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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

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Island Dreams - Chapter 12

Hello lovlies,

here we are with chapter 12. This should be, according to my plans, the last of the very angsty chapters. Now things should start to head towards fluff. I kinda plotted the ideas for all chapters and in a moment of inspiration I wrote a moment with plenty of fluff. They are getting there. Also, please don't hate Elias. He loves her. He really does. They are both just very impulsive.

At the very beginning Rowan says "mo chridhe" well, I am not going to give you a translation this time. Aelin will discover its meaning in the next chapter. You just have to sit tight a bit longer.

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Days rolled over quickly and Aelin’s d-day had eventually arrived. It was the day she was meant to meet with Elias. She had been nervous and in a bad mood since she had received the message and didn’t get any closer to figuring out a way to let the man down gently.

So that morning she had woken up as usual, scoffed the remnants of the chocolate cake she had bought from Maeve’s and tried to instil in herself the idea that everything will be okay. Rowan had given her again the morning off and she was quite happy since she had to go and get herself a laptop. She was quite serious in her goal of finding a job as a doctor on the islands and she definitely needed her own computer.

Elias had kindly recommended her a place in town and she decided she could go on foot. The day was going to be nice again and she craved the fresh air. With the address in her hands she was surprised that she found it without the need of the GPS on her phone and happiness took her at the realisation that she was getting very familiar with the town. A few more years, she told her herself, and I will be a local. Elias had been amazing as his usual and had given her some info on what to look for in a laptop and she was grateful for his help and felt horrible at the idea of how much pain she was going to cause him. Half an hour later she had a box under her arm and she was on her way to the bookshop. She missed Rowan. “Madainn mhath!” She greeted him with a huge smile, her mood suddenly improving at the sight of him. That day he was wearing a green hoodie that almost matched his eyes and her heart skipped a beat. “Madainn mhath, mo chridhe.” Aelin walked to him and dumped her box on the floor “What was the last part?” Rowan’s face turned red at the realisation that he had spoken too much “It means my menace.” He lied and she knew it. She was still learning Gaelic, but she had a feeling he had used a term of endearment. It was the loving tone and the hint of a smile that betrayed him. She just had to try and figure out the meaning on her own. Problem was she had no idea how to write down the word. In her basic lessons of Gaelic from Rowan she had soon realised that often Gaelic would pronounce far less letters than the ones written down and some sounds were not written the way she thought. “Sure, keep your secrets.” Gently she poked him on the shoulder. A totally pointless gesture. Given his muscles he probably didn’t even feel her. “What do you have there?” He pointed at the box. “I bought a laptop. You know… for work stuff…” grabbing her belongings she went for his office where she got ready for another day. Nervousness knotted her stomach. After the day had spent gallivanting around a part of Scotland she felt as if the energy between them had shifted again and she had no idea how to address it. “I phoned back the school and I told them that I will give it a try.” He said calmly while typing away on the keyboard. Aelin stared at him amazed “Ro, it’s wonderful.” And she meant it. He nodded timidly. “You don’t seem convinced.” She moved a step closer and her hand landed on his arm and the tightness in her chest loosened a bit when he did not shy away from that contact. He shook his head “I am okay. I really like the idea. It’s just the whole going back to a swimming pool without competing it feels alien.” “I am freaking out about the idea of going back to work in an hospital.” she confessed knowing exactly where he was coming from. The idea of being a doctor again was wonderful but a part of her was terrified at the idea that what happened in London might have broken her completely. He looked at her in understanding. “When it happens, you will be incredible.” He finally looked at her and she noticed the sincerity of his words in his eyes. “Sure, Buzzard, but for now I want to redo the whole fantasy section. It’s bugging me and we need a new display.” And she crossed her arms at her chest “You finish that paperwork. I am on a mission.” She added cracking her hands and marching to her favourite corner of the bookshop. Rowan laughed and kissed her head “Go, have fun.” In response she gave him a grin. Ten minutes later all the books were on the floor, the shelves in the Fantasy section were empty and Aelin was sitting down on the floor reading a book. “You are supposed to organise them and put them back, not read them.” Rowan admonished her from the counter. “Shhh… I am in the zone.” “No you are in the way.” And with his head he pointed at a couple of customers. “I am sorry,” she apologised jumping back on her feet “I am redoing this section. If you need any help, let me know, please.” “We were looking for the fiction section.” Aelin walked them to the correct area “If you need any recommendations, Rowan is your man.” The couple thanked them and she went back to her job. She picked up the book she was reading and gave it to Rowan, “set it aside. I am buying it later.” “You are just as bad as me.” “That’s why you love me.” Shit. “I meany you love working with me.” She corrected herself but the damage was done. So far, their plan of taking it slow did not include using the l-word. Yet. “Who told you I love working with you? Look at the mess you make of my poor books.” He pretended to be stern but she noticed the light in his eyes and the very slight uptick on the right side of his lips. He was trying not to laugh. “I should really start calling you menace instead of Fireheart.” Aelin stuck her tongue out and went back to work. It took her a few hours but the shelves were now more to her liking and she took a step back to admire her work. Rowan joined her to have a look at her project. “Right here in the centre at eye level I placed the book of the month. The two red bars at its side bring it out to attention and the plastic holder underneath has a message that says something about the book and entices the potential reader.” She explained to him “we should have more around the shop. More book recommendations.” Then she took a photo with her mobile “And this will be our official social media post. “I love it.” “And I am amazing.” He laughed “you are amazing.” His arms went around her waist. The two customer had paid and left and they were alone so he could let himself go with a bit of PDA. She stared up at him and his heart began racing and in that exact moment she decided to lean against his chest and hoped she could not hear his heart pumping hard “I love your hoodie.” “Well, you can’t have this one. Buy your own one.” She caressed his pecs and felt his muscles underneath “But if I buy my own one than it won’t smell like you.” Rowan’s hand went onto hers “You buy one, then I will wear it so it smells like me. How does it sound?” “Pinky promise?”she lifted her hand with her pinky extended. “What are you? Five?” She looked at him with puppy eyes and he rolled his in acceptance. “Fine.” He yielded. “Pinky promise.” He was doomed. He was so madly in love with her that he would even swear a pinky promise just to see her give him the smile that would melt his heart. “Ro?” He looked down to her while never breaking their embrace. “You know I have dinner with Elias tonight.” Rowan’s body went rigid. She had mentioned that. She had explained to him why she had to do it and although he had supported her, he had openly admitted to her that he was jealous. He wanted her to dump the guy and screw his feeling, but that was not what Aelin wanted. And doing that would make her miserable and that’s the last thing he wanted. “I remember.” That’s all he could muster. “And you are mad at me.” “I am not. I told you.” She pulled away from him and he missed the contact with her body. “I need to do this, okay? You know I have to do this if we want to… well… whatever is the next step in our relationship.” She sounded almost hurt and it broke his heart. “Aelin, I know. And I am not mad.” He pulled her to him again “I am just being selfish and a lot jealous.” “I don’t love him, Ro.” I love you, you idiot. “But I owe him. He has always been nice to me and he deserves the truth.” “I know.” He kissed her temple “I know.” They pulled apart as soon as they heard a customer enter the shop. The rest of the afternoon continued with them adding suggestions around the shop and Rowan beginning to post confidently on the shop’s Facebook page about all the books of the months they had chosen. Aelin had told him they already had five followers, but he had no idea what she was talking about, he just trusted her. “Go home.” He had told her later on that evening “You need to get ready.” “I can stay.” But he shook his head. “We are closing in an hour anyway. I will be okay.” She kissed his cheek “I will see you tomorrow.” He bushed her hand in response “I trust you.” She nodded, collected all of her stuff and left.

Aelin got home from the shop a bit early so she could have the time to take a shower and get properly dressed. She pulled off Rowan’s hoodie and stopped thinking about his expression when she reminded him that she was going out with Elias. He was aware that she wanted to let the man down gently and Rowan in the end understood. I trust you he had told her before letting her go. Aelin had been grateful for that week that Elias had been away because she had the chance to analyse her feeling, her growing feelings for Rowan. They had the best time together and she longed for the moment she would stop feeling like she was cheating on Elias every time she touched Rowan. She needed closure, but she also had to do it in a way not to break the man’s heart. At 7pm Elias rang the bell to her house and when she opened the door he was standing in front of her. He had a pair of jeans on, a shirt and a blue jumper on top of it, looking neat and very charming. But the pang of attraction she had felt at the beginning was not there anymore. She, had opted for a smart casual attire as well, not wanting to dress up too much and give the wrong idea. “Hi you.” His expression lit up with one of his bright and dazzling smile while his arm went around her waist pulling her close for a quick kiss that she allowed. “I hope you like seafood.” Aelin nodded scared about what emotions her voice would betray. “Then let’s go.” Once outside she noticed his car was not around. “We are walking,” he said when he noticed her looking for the vehicle. His hand was extended in front of him and she took it very reluctantly. “How…” she stumbled on her words “How was Glasgow.” “I love the city, but work was so boring but I had to do it. I spent the week in never-ending meetings. And missed you of course.” He squeezed the hand. “How was yours?” Shit. “Fine, I have been working at the bookshop and on Saturday and Sunday I was out exploring.” “Have you been somewhere nice?” Lie. Lie, her brain kept telling her. “On Sunday I went across the water to Ullapool and drove around a bit. I was reading my guide on Saturday evening and when it seemed doable I just went for it.” And she hoped he believed her. “I wish I could have come with you, I know the area very well.” So does Rowan. Ten minutes later they reached the restaurant: the Harbour kitchen, apparently a great place for seafood freshly caught. Or at least that was what the locals said. Elias had reserved a table and when it was time to sit down he was a proper gentleman and pulled the chair out for her “M’lady…” He sat down as well and the waiter brought the menu while Elias ordered a bottle of wine. “You drink, don’t you?” Aelin nodded. She looked at the menu and the food sounded amazing. ‘This is one of my favourite places, the food here is great.” She could see the joy in him. She kept her gaze on the menu, using the excuse she could not make up her mind. They were silent for a moment and she welcome the respite. How was she supposed to break up with him? Did she just tell him whatever there was between it was over? That she loved Rowan? She almost growled. She hadn’t been able to speak to Lysandra and now she had no idea on how to do it properly. “Aelin?” She looked up and noticed that the waiter was there at her side. Apologising, she placed her order and Elias extended his arm and placed his hand on hers on the table and she almost flinched. “How is the bookshop?” He asked and she noticed that it costed him to show interest in something he had clearly admitted to be against. “Busy. I have set up Rowan with a Facebook page and Instagram fro the shop and we are working on online ordering. Plus, tourist season has started, so nice and busy.” Her tone was flat and he noticed it. “You seem pretty invested in that shop.”and there it was, his hate for the choice she had made of working there instead of going back to her old job. A waste he had called it. “Just helping a friend.” And she looked outside the window ignoring his gaze. Ignoring the pain his words were causing. “Sounds like is not a good business manager if he needs a doctor to help him.” Aelin grabbed her glass and took a sip of the wine to try and hide her gritted teeth. What happened to the nice guy she met on the beach? Jealousy, her brain told her. “He just doesn’t use Facebook. Some people don’t feel the need to be on social media and there is nothing wrong with it.” She might have uttered those words with a bit more venom than intended. At her sharp tone his hand clench a little in annoyance and he was about to add another snarky remark when their food arrived and she thanked that now she had an excuse to stay in silence at least for a while. This was not going well, but he was clearly insulting Rowan and his job and she could not allow that. “Are you enjoying the food?” He added after five minutes of neither of them uttering a word. His tone had lost the loving edge it had when they first arrived. “Yeah, it’s nice.” Her response was almost devoid of all emotions. ‘What?” He asked when he noticed her reaction “Are you mad at me because I insulted you book buddy?” Aelin grabbed the glass and almost threw it in his face and stormed out of the restaurant but she could not cause a scene. So she breathed in and counted till 10 “Just tired.” “I have been looking forward to see you for days. I was not expecting this.” He whispered through gritted teeth. “I am sorry I forgot my red carpet and the roses, your highness, I am ready for my ten lashes.” And the fire-bitch queen, as Chaol used to call her, was back in full swing. Good job, Aelin. She hated the words as soon as they left her mouth. But the damage was done and once again she was going to pay for her inability to filter her thoughts before talking. She had not meant to fight with him, but apparently fate had other plans in mind for her. She was so tired of fighting. “You are not yourself tonight. Is it because of him?” Elias was jealous, that was blatantly clear. She might have been impulsive, but he had been downright arrogant. “I told you I am tired.” And she slammed her fork on the plate a bit too hard. “Well, take a day off. I am sure book boy can work on his own for a day.” Aelin stood and grabbed her bag.”You know what?” She whispered trying not to cause a scene. “If you can’t talk about Rowan without insulting him, we are done here.” She was about to leave when he grabbed her wrist but she pulled free and left the restaurant.

Elias went to pay quickly and ran after her “Aelin.” He shouted a few times but she ignored him. Eventually he caught up and gently grabbed her writs “Aelin…” his tone suddenly much more gentle than what had been in the restaurant. He had behaved horribly. All he wanted was a nice night with her. However, he could not forget that he had spent a whole week agonising over the fact that she was alone in the shop with Rowan and it drove him mad because, yes, he was so damn jealous. “I am so sorry.” When she turned Elias noticed she was in tears and his heart sank “Elias this is not working.” She blurted out while sobbing “Whatever this is… I can’t” “I love working at the bookshop and until I feel ready to be a doctor again that is what I will do. And I am tired of listening to you insulting the shop and Rowan.” He was not ready for the look full of hurt in her eyes. He wanted to see her smile and nothing more. “This is not working, Elias. We are not working and I am sick and tired of being in pain.” He stared at her and for a while he was immobile as if stunned by her words. “You love him, don’t you?” Elias’ voice was almost a whisper but she heard him nonetheless. In frustration his hands ran through his hair and he groaned “I have been such a stupid fool not to notice.” In the meantime, Aelin had taken a seat on one of the benches at the marina while Elias was not towering in front of her and she kept avoiding his gaze like the coward she felt. “That’s why you almost ignored me while I was away. And why your texts were cold all of a sudden.” Aelin didn’t answer and kept staring at the small fishing boats moored at the pier, while tears kept flowing down her cheeks “I had to sort out my feelings.” “Clearly not your feelings for me.” She clenched her fingers “Life happens,” her tone almost a growl. “No, annoying bookseller happened. You were fine until you started working there.” His anger back in his words. She finally found the strength to stand and face him “This is between me and you. Damn it, Elias we were not together, we were still trying to figure out things. It’s my feelings okay? I am the one who fell in love with him, so leave Rowan out of this.” She shouted, now clenching both hands in fists “I am the one who is so messed up and could not make up her bloody mind. Blame me for this.” Suddenly her back was at him again “This is not how it was meant to go down.” She leaned against the wall of the pier. She turned and he was in front of her. In a swift movement he kissed her “tell me you don’t feel anything. Have the guts to tell me that the time we spent together meant nothing. Be truthful, damn it. I deserve it.” Her hand went in front of her mouth to stifle the sob rippling through her “I loved the time I spent with you.” She finally looked at him and the pain she saw in his eyes almost broke her “But my feelings for Rowan developed before the ones I had for you had time to form.” It was a pathetic excuse but it was all she could give him just now. She started shaking and he offered her his jacket. “You are cold,” his voice soft again. “Don’t be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.” She refused the jacket. “Aelin… I am sorry for what I said.” He moved a step closer, he could not see her in that much pain. She did not answer for a moment “I didn’t want to hurt you.” She sobbed tears flowing again “I am so bad at this, but I didn’t want to hurt you.” “I know.” He pushed behind her ear a rebellious lock of hair “Let me walk you home, you are freezing.” Aelin nodded and they walked back to her place in silence. Once in front of her house they stopped. Aelin took out of her purse “Let me pay for half of the dinner.” His hand stopped her “Don’t even think about it.” “But… I have been horrible to you.” “I don’t care, I am not letting you pay.” And caressed her cheek “Can we talk tomorrow? In a more civilised way? I accept your feelings. I really do, but if we have to part I want to do it in a better fashion. Tonight’s fight was nasty and I’d hate to remember our time together having such a brutal ending.” Aelin managed a faint smile “Yeah. Yeah, it sounds good.” And Aelin’s heart felt all of a sudden lighter. “Good.” He kissed her cheek “I’ll text you tomorrow with an ETA of when I am meant to finish work. Is it okay with you?” “Yes, Elias.” He winked at her and left. Aelin stood outside the house and stared at the sea for a while, but when the wind picked up again she ran back in the house. She changed in her jammies and plopped on the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea. She felt horrible after the horrible dinner they had. But she was looking forward discussing things with him in a more civilised way. She hated the fight and all she had said. She did care about him, just not in the way he hoped. She sighed and grabbed the book on the coffee table. Her mobile lay beside it and when she retrieved it she found a text from Rowan How was the evening? Are you okay? Disaster was all she texted back. A couple of minutes later his reply came Would you like to talk about it? And laughed. Rowan was still coming to grasp the whole texting thing and she loved the fact that he always used proper grammar, punctuation and never contracted any words. Not yet she replied. Please, take the morning off tomorrow. I will handle the hordes of tourists on my own. I will see you in the afternoon. She laughed. K. <3 XOXO was her reply and she waited to see his. Is that a sort of secret code? Good night, grandpa. A smile appeared on her face. She adored their banter and mocking him for his limited knowledge of certain aspect of technology was fun, although she found it quite attractive and fascinating.

In the end she decided to go to bed instead. And before switching off the light she flipped through the pictures she had taken of their adventure and chose one of the two of them together as a home screen. “Night, Buzzard.”

#rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowanwhitethorn #aelin galythinius #fanfic #throne of glass series #angst #fluff

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

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The Muddy War of The Twins

Young twins Roman and Remus are playing in the mud! It's King against Duke in a War against the Mud kingdoms. Which twin will be victorious? Or, will the twins become one kingdom?

Tickletober day 21: Playing Dirty

“I AM REMUS! DUKE OF MUDDY CASTLE!” Remus shouted, standing on a pile of mud.

“WHAT?! WHAT ABOUT ME?!” Roman shouted, standing on another castle.

“You’re the king, silly! BOW DOWN TO THE KING OF DIRT STAIN!” Remus declared, bowing down himself as well.

Roman giggled and cheered. “Yes! Thank you, thank you all! As your new king, I will give you all farm jobs! So you can become rich!” Roman declared.

“Or, you all can join ME! Where you can become rich, WITHOUT working hard!” Remus declared right after him.

“But- you get to work with animals! What could be fun about NOT doing work? You’d get bored!” Roman reacted, feeling annoyed.

“Not if we have mud wars to start…” Remus replied as he made multiple mud balls. “I DECLARE WAR ON DIRT STAIN!” Remus shouted.

“COME ON, MEN! LET’S SHOW MUDDY CASTLE WHO’S THE #1 KINGDOM!” Roman shouted to his fake audience. Roman and Remus both let out loud war cries and started throwing mud balls at each other.

The creative twins were shirtless and completely drenched in mud! The mud ball war only made their muddy exterior even worse. Roman kept throwing mud balls at Remus’s chest and legs, while Remus was aiming for his chest and face! While Roman was well aware getting mud in the eyes really hurts, Roman was also aware of how strong he was! So, he could handle some muddy eyes!

It didn’t take long for the kingdom leaders to gang up on each other. “Surrender now, King!” Remus ordered.

“NEVER!” Roman shouted back.

“Then I shall unlock my most powerful weapon…” Remus warned.

Roman giggled as he went along with it. “oH nO! It CoUlDn’T bE…” Roman reacted.

“That’s right, King Roman…” Remus said with an evil giggle as he rolled up his mud-made sleeves, “Fear! My! FINGERS!” The Duke shouted.

Remus started squeezing Roman’s sides and tickling Roman’s belly button! “hehEHEHEHEY! NOHOHOHOT THIHIHIHIHIS!” Roman shouted.

“But of COURSE! The most evil of weapons MUST be used to take over your mud kingdom! My weapon? TICKLING!” Remus declared proudly.

Roman squealed and only squirmed around more in the mud. “REHEHEHEHEMUHUHUHUS! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHES!” Roman laughed.

Remus gasped. “WhAaAaAt?! It’s not SuPpOsEd To TiCkLe! It’S sUpPoSeD to HuRt!” Remus reacted sarcastically.

Roman shook his head and tried getting him back. He reached his arms up and managed to give him a hip squeeze! “aaaAAAH! Ohoho!” Remus jumped before grabbing his wrists. “Not happening, bro!” Remus said with a smirk.

In an attempt to get the upper hand, Roman placed both his feet against Remus’s chest and gave his body a push! It actually worked miraculous wonders and managed to push Remus right off into the mud puddle!

SPLASH! Remus went! If he wasn’t covered in mud before, he DEFINITELY was NOW!

Roman quickly crawled himself on top of Remus and started successfully squeezing his hips. “Wahaha-HAHAHAHAHAIT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! UHUHUHUHUNFAHAHAHAIR!” Remus shouted.

Roman scoffed. “Since when was war ever fair?” Roman reminded him.

Remus guffawed at that statement amidst his laughing. Remus knew very well that Roman had a point. But he couldn’t actually tell him that because of Roman’s constant tickling. “THAHAHAHAT’S TRUHUHUHUE, IHIHI GUEHEHEHESS.” Remus managed to tell him.

Roman smiled and gave Remus a small break. “Glad to know you agree!” Roman reacted.

“Joseph Stalin, tho! He was the most unfair of unfair people!” Remus added.

Roman tilted his head and upper body back and forth in uncertainty. “Eeeehh...Adolf Hitler was also pretty bad.” Roman added.

“But Stalin killed SO MANY PEOPLE!” Remus added. “But someone else managed to beat Hitler AND Stalin COMBINED:” Remus added.

Roman dropped his mudball. “...Who? And how many?” Roman asked.

“Mao Dezong. And 78 million people were killed in 33 years.” Remus replied.

Roman widened his eyes and looked down. “I don’t wanna play war anymore.” Roman told him.

“Those wars happened decades ago.” Remus added, before looking at Roman and noticing his fearful face. “Hey...we can join forces if you’d like. We can be the Dirty Castle.” Remus suggested. “We can be the ultimate duo kingdom! And the best part?” Remus declared.

Roman looked up in hope.

“Little bloodshed!” Remus replied.

Roman smiled and stepped on the mudballs he had created earlier. “It’s a deal, Duke.” Roman replied as he shook Remus’s muddy hand. Remus smiled and made an official shake before taking a bit of mud and rubbing it on his forehead like a type of ritual. “King Roman of Dirty Castle.” Remus declared, holding his muddy arm up. When Remus let go of Roman’s hand, Roman bowed to the new mixed kingdom and put his right hand up. “I, King Roman of Dirty Castle, promise to be a loyal, brave and intellectual leader alongside the Duke.” Roman said to the invisible crowd.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” someone shouted from a few metres away. Roman and Remus looked to the right and widened their eyes:

Patton had found them! And Logan was with them! UH OH!

Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. “Boys, boys, boys...What am I going to do with you?” He asked rhetorically in slight annoyance but mostly amusement.

Patton stormed up to them. “You two are covered in mud! Honestly!” Patton reacted, rubbing the mud off Roman’s forehead. “Some of it is already dried onto you!” Patton added in horror.

“Aww, come on Dad! We were having fun! We were having a mud kingdom war, and we just made a truce when you came out!” Remus reacted.

Patton groaned. “War games?” Patton whined in worry.

Logan nodded his head in curiosity. “Hmm...Sounds like you two signed an Act of Union and became one kingdom then.” Logan reacted. He giggled as he pointed at Remus. “Scotland, I’m guessing…” Logan then pointed to Roman. “And England.” Logan assigned.

“Awww yeah! I’m a SCOTTISH VIKING!” Remus shouted in a mediocre scottish accent.

“And I’m the Biscuits and Tea Country, known as England!” Roman declared in a fairly accurate english accent while lifting his pinky finger up and pretending to drink a cup of tea.

Logan was giggling at the two, before he was elbowed in the shoulder by Patton. “What?” Logan asked.

“We need to get these two hosed down.” Patton told him. “Where are your shirts?” Patton asked.

Roman and Remus both pointed to the car. Sure enough, their black and green costume shirts were laying on the engine hood of the car, slightly wet and dirt-stained. Patton sighed and decided to grab both kids hands and drag them to the water hose.

When the water hose was turned on towards their bodies, Roman full on shrieked and started shivering right away! “IT’S FREEZING!” Roman shouted.

Meanwhile, Remus didn’t mind it and actually tried to drink the water despite the mud from his face running down into his mouth. “Remus, stop drinking the water. It’s not drinkable!” Logan ordered.

Remus just laughed. “Tastes fine to me!” he declared back, sticking his tongue out to him. Logan rolled his eyes and continued to wash the kids off.

When the water reached their bellies however, both of them bursted out laughing and squirmed around like crazy! “IHIHIHIT TIHIHICKLEHEHES SOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUCH!” Roman shouted, struggling to cover up the ticklish spot with his hands. Logan kept constantly moving the hose around, making it almost impossible to cover up any ticklish spot!

Remus had already collapsed onto the ground, and was kitty fighting the air while he flopped around and rolled all over the place. “Remus, hold still!” Patton begged, bringing the hose water to Remus’s legs and aiming at his thighs. Remus went BALLISTIC after that! “NAHAHAHAHAHA! THIHIHIHIHIHIHIGHS TIHIHICKLHLHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus shouted at Patton.

“I know, but this would go a lot quicker if you stopped moving!” Patton told Remus.

At the same time, Logan was washing the back of Roman’s scalp off. This was making Roman all giggly and super squirmy. “Ihihihihi cahahahahan’t! Tohohohohohoo tihihihicklihihihish!” Roman giggled.

“Funny...Your brother is getting tickled even worse than you. I don’t think you should be complaining, Ro.” Logan warned.

When the kids were hosed down enough, Patton and Logan summoned them some towels and let them dry off. The kids were all giggly and squirmy by the time the tick-I mean hosing down, had finished. Thankfully though, the giggles seemed to die down by the time they got into the bathtub.

Logan and Patton were both washing the twins. Patton was washing Remus’s hair, while Logan was rubbing a sponge on Roman’s back.

Roman let out a relaxed sigh. “I feel like a king.” Roman told his brother.

“Me too, bro.” Remus said, melting from the scalp massages.

Patton rolled his eyes but giggled at the silly kids. It didn’t take long for the calming bath to turn playful as Patton tickled Remus’s neck. “Mmmm...this feels- BAHA! HAHAhahahaha!” Remus said before being interrupted by surprised laughter.

Patton was smirking and scratching at the back of Remus’s neck. “Feeling relaxed yet?” Patton teased.

“NOOOHOhohohoho! Come ohohohon!” Remus begged, reaching his arms up and over his head to grab Patton’s hands.

Roman couldn’t stop the evil snicker from leaving his lips as a mean idea came to mind. Roman poked Remus’s right armpit and scratched a finger on Remus’s left armpit.

“HahahAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ROHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Remus shouted to him, dropping his arms down and squishing Roman’s fingers. Remus’s laughter and Roman’s evil giggles echoed through the bathroom more, thanks to the poor soundproof walls. Not only that, but the water was causing the sound to bounce all over the place as well! That just made the room almost chaotically echoey!

“OHOHOKAHAY, OHOHOHOKAHAHAHAHAY! YOHOHOU CAHAHAN STAHAHAP!” Remus ordered. “WEHEHE UNIHIHITEHED, REHEHEHEMBEHER?!” Remus asked as well.

“Oh, I remember. I just wanted to tickle you.” Roman teased before retreating his fingers.

Remus’s laughter slowed to giggles a little and went slightly limp. But the giggling continued to plague him, thanks to Patton’s nimble fingers STILL tickling his neck.

“Okay, Patton. You can stop now.” Roman suggested.

“What if I don’t wanna?” Patton asked.

Roman sat himself up straight and made himself look triumphant. “I, King Roman, order you to cease your tickle attacks on the Duke of Dirty Castle!” Roman ordered proudly.

“Oh?” Patton reacted with a smirk, before looking at Logan.

Logan gave him a smirk back and wrapped his arms around Roman’s bare chest. “Now YOU listen here, King Roman of Dirty Castle! I am a king too! King of this household! And YOU shall bow to me!” Logan ordered, tickling Roman’s upper ribs in the process.

Roman shrieked and bursted out laughing! “BAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEYYY!” Roman laughed, squirming everywhere and splashing water all over the place.

“Goodness gracious! We have a fighter here, Padre.” Logan warned. “Should I cease or continue? If I continue, you may end up getting wet or worse: get your glasses wet.” Logan warned.

Patton bursted out laughing at that and leaned back. “You have glasses too! And they’re gonna get wet as well!” Patton added.

“Well, looks like we’ll both have to sacrifice our sight to conquer THIS kingdom…” Logan decided.

Roman and Remus looked at each other with confident smirks on their faces. “I’ll get Logan!” Roman declared.

“I’ll get Patton!” Remus declared back.

“rrRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWRRRR!”

The twins screamed to their older sides and started tickling the daylights out of them! Their wet and soapy fingers only increased the ticklish sensations, and made their fingers more slippery while tickling. It didn’t take long for Patton and Logan to fall onto their back, and for Roman and Remus to jump onto them and continue their war against the other kingdom!

Even after being hosed and bathed...the twins never truly forgot about the war games they played. The only difference was:

There were more players! ...whether the adults liked it or not.

#kid creativity twins #kid roman #kid remus #king roman #duke remus #parent logan #parent patton #ticklefic #switch!roman #switch!remus #switch!patton #switch!logan

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laminy · 5 years ago

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Could you do something with Joe/Gwil? Writer’s choice!!!

“Joe.”

Joe murmurs, shaking his head.

“Joe, we have to get up.”

“No, leave me alone.”

Gwil grins, leaning in to press a kiss to Joe’s shoulder. “Joseph.”

Joe groans, rolling away from Gwil. “It’s a hard no from me, Gwilym, I’m going to stay right here. Where my toes are warm and my neck remains unbroken.”

“You agreed to come skiing, why aren’t we going skiing?” Gwil asks. “It’s literally a ski resort, there were no surprises on this trip.”

Joe groans and pushes himself up, looking out the window. “It’s snowing.”

“A ski resort.”

“Gwil, I’m cold,” Joe says, and he rolls towards him, snuggling towards him.

“Yes,” Gwil says, “because it’s—”

“Gwil!” Joe says, pushing at Gwil, climbing onto his lap. “If you say ski resort one more time I swear to god.”

“I was going to say Scotland, in the winter time,” Gwil says, smiling up at Joe, resting his hands on his hips. “But also yes, a ski—”

“Shh,” Joe says, putting his finger to Gwil’s lips, which just makes Gwil smile even bigger before he playfully nips at him. “Gwil, seriously. You can choose between me—”

“I’ll always choose you,” Gwil says.

Joe smiles, shoulders slumping a bit as he sort of melts against Gwil. “Really?” he asks softly. “Gwil, that’s so—”

“Except today,” Gwil says, and he guides Joe off his lap, sitting up.

“Gwil!” Joe exclaims, looking up at him. “What are you doing? You’d rather go out in the snow than stay in bed all day with me?”

“Yes.” Gwil grabs his boxers off the floor, tugging them on. “Joe, it’s a ski resort. Snow is sort of a pre-requisite.” He grins, walking around the bed, leaning down to give Joe another kiss. “What’s the word, ski bunny? You can be my ski bunny!” Joe’s mouth falls open in surprise, and Gwil starts to laugh. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“You,” Joe says softly, slowly trailing his fingers down his chest, wetting his lips.

Gwil looks at Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Nice try,” he says, and Joe sighs, dropping his hand to the bed.

“Fine,” Joe says flatly. “What are you making?”

Gwil shrugs. “Just bacon, eggs, toast.”

“Sounds good,” Joe says.

“Why’d you come if you didn’t want to ski?” Gwil asks, pulling on a sweater, looking over at Joe as he walks to the kitchen area of their small chalet.

“To spend time with you, obviously,” Joe says, rolling onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “And I thought maybe I could trick you into just spending the entire day in a hot tub with hot chocolate and your hot boyfriend.” He gives Gwil a wink when Gwil looks over at him, smiling.

“That does sound pretty nice,” Gwil says, opening the refrigerator. “Will you make the hot chocolate?”

“Is that what it will take to get you stay in bed with me?” Joe asks. “I’ll make you a million hot chocolates.”

“That’s a bit excessive,” Gwil says, cracking a couple eggs. He leans forward, looking out the window over the sink, pushing the curtain aside. “It is snowing,” he says softly.

Joe pushes the blankets off his lap, climbing out the bed, walking over to Gwil. He wraps his arms around his waist, snuggling against his back, pressing a kiss to his spine. “It is,” he says. “Ew, gross.”

Gwil sighs, smiling. “I like snowboarding, Joe.”

“I like it too!” Joe says. “But tomorrow.”

“And what happens if you say the same thing tomorrow?” Gwil asks.

“I promise I won’t,” Joe says. He holds his pinky up, and Gwil sighs, hooking his pinky around Joe’s.

“I’m going tomorrow, regardless,” Gwil says.

“Understood,” Joe says. “I promise, I’ll behave.” He nuzzles his nose against Gwil’s back, inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes for a few moments, resting against Gwil. “No,” he says, “let’s go today.”

“Really?” Gwil asks excitedly, turning around to look at him.

“Yeah, of course,” Joe says. “You were willing to stay in for me, I— I should be willing to go outside for you. And it will be fun. You’ll keep me entertained at least.”

“I will,” Gwil says, nodding. “And you’ll be rewarded later.” He leans down, giving Joe a quick kiss. “Promise.”

“Oh trust me,” Joe says, “I know. I better be.”

“You’ll look so cute in your jumper and your ski goggles,” Gwil says.

“I look cute in everything,” Joe says, and Gwil laughs, wrapping his arms around Joe.

“You do,” he says, giving him another kiss. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Joe says. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Gwil says. “How do you want your eggs?”

“Fertilized,” Joe says, and Gwil snorts, turning back to the stove. “Wait, I guess that only works for women, huh? Fried, whatever you want.” Joe wraps his arms around him again, snuggling back against him. “Tell me if this is bothering you.”

“You don’t bother me,” Gwil says, briefly resting his hand on Joe’s before he goes back to getting their breakfast ready. “Never have.”

“I don’t believe that, but okay,” Joe says, and Gwil chuckles.

“Okay, maybe once or twice,” Gwil says, and Joe grins. “But that’s all.” Gwil looks out the window, and then glances back at Joe, smiling. “It looks beautiful out.”

“Something looks beautiful in here,” Joe says, looking up at him.

Gwil smiles, and twists a bit in Joe’s arms to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Yes, it does,” he says softly, going back to the stove, and Joe just smiles, squeezing Gwil a little tighter.

#answering asks #snippet headcanon #mazzlee #leezello #fluff #obviously not itbasm

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imagineclaireandjamie · 8 years ago

Note

I'm in dire need of a fluffy scene where Claire tries to read the lines on Jamie's palm and she ends up failing miserably.

Liv says: So this isn’t fluff, so to speak—but I hope it’s still fun! Set about 2-3 years before puir Frank the Mailman died in the Three Witches AU. No worries if you haven’t read it. This one stands alone! :)

Intersection: A Three Witches Story

Claire knew this was against coven rules. Like, totally outside the realm of acceptable witch behavior.

To dole out one’s magical talents—particularly at the county fair—was a bit manipulative (in regards to the customers), a bit sad (in regards to Claire). Still, she liked to think she was working for a kind of greater good. Ensuring the happiness of all mankind! And that was almost admirable, wasn’t it? Giving hopeful glimmers of adulthood to the stork-like teenagers, comforting the mopey singletons who trudged around, heads bent? She’d offered such assurances as:

“A new man will come into your life. A handsome one—with a huge prick! His name…I think his name begins with a ‘T’.” (This to the recent divorcee, clutching her naked ring finger like a burn. She hadn’t known what a “prick” was but was no less forthcoming with her money.)

Or this, to the bucktoothed 16-year old picking at his acne scars: “You’ll be the coolest person in college. Captain of the ultimate frisbee team!” He’d been disappointed at that one, enormous chompers clamping over his bottom lip. “Ho ho ho there, young man!” she’d said then. “Ultimate frisbee is cool where you’re going. The coolest cool.” And then he’d smiled, a patchwork of teeth and holes, which Claire hoped someone might find endearing. A nice and wholesome blind girl, maybe.

And then this, to the both of them: “For just $5 more, I can guarantee it! All you have to do is buy this magical rock and carry it with you wherever you go.” Nevermind that said magical rock was actually from Claire’s backyard. Nevermind that several of them were speckled in bird shit. Maybe some cicada guts.

But that was the thing about desperate Mortals. Metaphorically speaking, their whole lives were a succession of bird shit plops and smeared bug guts. So they didn’t even notice when it was covering their $5, not-magical rock.

“Yes please! I’ll take two!” the divorcee had cried, handing Claire a ten dollar bill. (Did she think this would bring two men into her life? Because that’s not how Claire’s bird shit rocks worked.)

“Um. Yeah. That’s sounds pretty sick,” said Beaver Bobby. “I’ll buy a rock.” He’d paid in all quarters but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

If her best friend Gillian were here, she would likely call this “an exploitative farce,” two terms she would’ve picked up from her beloved Word of the Day calendar.

“Claire,” she would hiss, “this is such an exploitative (Wednesday’s word) farce (last Friday’s word).” And then she’d pull out her Moleskin, update her word count with a self-satisfied tick. Her record, she claimed, was sixty words in a single morning, and Claire imagined a horrible plague descending upon their town, zombifying everyone until they could only grunt “verisimilitude.” Gillian thought an expanded vocabulary made her smarter but, really, it just increased her smart-assedness to a barely tolerable level.

Luckily, Gillian wasn’t here to offer one of her impressive synonyms because she’d bailed on their plans. If Claire could place money on it—and she couldn’t, with only $7 to her name, the very reason for this “manipulative/sad/exploitative farce”—Gillian was protesting GMO’s one county over. Perhaps arguing for the rights of beluga whales. Or, and this was the most likely, she was loitering at the Creamy Whip, breasts thrust at a very specific angle so that customers’ cones would find their shirts and not their mouths.

Psh! Now if that wasn’t an “exploitative farce” then Claire didn’t know what was. Gillian had mosquito bite boobs and a push-up bra more magical than her own powers.

But here was the thing: Claire wasn’t completely faking it. She wasn’t, so to speak, wearing a bra with three inches of padding. She could read palms, see futures unfurl, weblike, across strangers’ skins. Forks, divots, complex branches—each had such a distinct voice, that Claire had no doubt as to whether or not, say, Mr. Duncan over there would choke on a hot dog and die very suddenly. Or whether young Malva—that girl with the cotton candy and ruffled socks—would pop out a kid by the time she was 17. Claire, being a witch, knew precisely what would befall her clients by simply looking at their hands.

But of course, teenage pregnancy and death by synthetic meat logs weren’t exactly good for customer satisfaction. And so Claire would read Mr. Duncan’s palm, and she would see Mr. Duncan’s red face, gasping on a particularly troublesome bit of hot dog, but say he’d live until he was 85. A little white lie for a happy client. And a happy client meant A) money, B) a potential second visit, and thus C) more money. The $5 rocks weren’t scams, just for-profit business cards.

So she was lying, but not, y’know, totally lying. She’d deal with the prevention of hot dog-induced deaths later, when it better benefitted her monthly budget. (Because just as she wasn’t a complete liar, she wasn’t a complete asshole either.)

The fair had died down to a trickling of stragglers: mostly drunks, a couple of junkies who’d staggered into Nayawenne County for cheap-rate smack. Sighing, Claire stood to begin packing up, turned off the moody sound effects, gathered Gillian’s stack of Tarot cards (all hand-painted variations of herself: man Gillian; tree Gillian; Gillian with bigger-than-mosquito-bite boobs).

In the five hours since Claire had arrived, she’d made $120. Not a terrible turnout if one compared it to last year’s fair, when an angry swarm of Bible-thumpers had tossed her earnings into the funnel cake fryer. Sally Bain—or, as Claire called her, Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence—had rallied her troop of Jesus warriors and thrust crucifixes into Claire’s face, chanting things like, “Begone Satan!” and “This is God’s land!”

Which was kind of funny when you thought about it. If God wanted to claim ownership of Nayawenne—out of every other place in the universe—then he was pretty damn stupid.

Fortunately, Claire had suffered no further Bible-thumping, crucifix-wielding disturbances. Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence had fled town once she’d discovered her husband had fucked the organ player up in the ass. And in the church rectory, no less. (Such irony! Claire’d had absolutely nothing to do with it. Ha.)

It had been a windy afternoon, and Claire’s crystal ball was now coated in a fine layer of dust. Though it was only for decorative purposes—for customer satisfaction!—Claire decided she ought to give it a nice shine, make it look at least halfway capable of revealing visions of tomorrow.

Witch Tip #1: Unbeknownst to Mortals, crystal balls were like kisses from a true love. Which was to say, not powerful in the slightest. The most a kiss could do was give you mouth herpes. And, at its highest power, a crystal ball would fly across a room, break a window and the pinky toe of an irritating significant other. Not that Claire had experience with either situation. Certainly not the mouth herpes.

Claire ripped off a paper towel and went to grab the Windex, only to realize she’d left the Windex at home. Had, by a stroke of poor planning, only brought the herbal tonic she sometimes had to spritz into her eyes when they got a bit cloudy.

Witch Tip #2: Seeing the future had its drawbacks. Your eyes would get all crusty if you did it too much. As if your body was punishing you with goopy morning blindness. Honestly, it was pretty gross.

Well shit, Claire thought. She spat on her hand and rubbed the ball, hoping the couple beside “Whack-A-Democrat” wouldn’t think she was, like, doing something sexual to an inanimate object.

But whatever the couple thought, they were watching her, whispering behind their hands and giving her darting glances. Oh God, Claire thought, Bible-thumper radar blaring. Did Sally Bain send them? Did she organize a sabotage via prayer? Was it possible to raise an army of vengeful Baptists an entire state away? (Claire wouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard of stranger things. Done some of them herself. See also: anally-fucked organ player before he was anally fucked.)

But no, the couple wasn’t looking at Claire with the fury of God in their eyes—but fascination. The woman, a petite but sturdy thing, was shoving her partner in Claire’s direction. Making a not-so-obvious pointing gesture, like, Her. Her! that he seemed somewhat reluctant to obey. Still, he did, and soon he was striding towards Claire, long legs stomping up clouds of dirt dust, red hair matching the synthetic blood of a “whacked” Bill Clinton.

“Are you…” the man began, looking nervously over his shoulder. The woman pursed her lips, arched her brow like, Do it, you pussy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, defeated. “Are ye done for the day, lass?”

“I was just about to pack up, but I’ve time for another reading if you’re interested.”

“Aye…” he said, completely unconvincing. “Aye, I suppose I’m interested.”

“Well then, take a seat, Mr…?”

“Fraser. Jamie.”

He was huge. Like, mega huge. Like, he could probably eat her. He was also ridiculously attractive, which meant that if he did eat her, Claire would ask him to do it again. She most definitely would not mind being inside his mouth.

“So what’s it going to be this evening, Jamie? Tarot? Crystal ball? A pal—”

“My sister says as I should have ye read my palm.”

“Oh! Splendid. Is that your sister back there?”

“Aye, that’s Jenny.” Again, he looked over his shoulder at the woman, her eyes unblinking despite the tidal wave of dust. As if to explain her behavior, he said, “We just moved here from Scotland. Only been in Nayawenne County for a few weeks now.”

“Dear me,” Claire replied, and then cringed. Attractive, mega huge men made her nervous—and sometimes her nerves made her sound like a 50’s housewife. It was a problem, she now realized, she ought to fix. “I mean, like,” she continued, “bloody hell. That’s a long way.”

“Family orders.” He shrugged. “But yer not so close to home yourself. British, by your accent.”

Claire nodded. “I’ve been here for a while now. Packed my bags when I was 20 and moved for…” She floundered for a plausible explanation. “Well. A guy.”

This, like Claire’s palm reading, was not a total lie. She had, indeed, come to America for a man: Ray, one of her classmates, had sought her input on a new enchantment in ‘04. A healing spell—Claire’s specialty —prepared from some rare fungi found in the hills of Appalachia. But Claire had about as many romantic feelings for Ray as she would a toad. Too many all-nighters spent with his warty nose and her (she liked the think) perfectly attractive nose stuck in the same spell book.

She’d stayed, though, after that. Anything—even bumfuck Ohio—was better than going back to England, where every witch wanted to hex her…

But that was a story for another time.

This story, right here, continued with a ripple of concern across Jamie’s face. Claire regarded him, wary, but glad Gillian wasn’t here to ruin their conversation with Words of the Day, beluga whales, or push-up bras. Jamie was, at the moment, only hers.

“He’s out of the picture now,” she said. “The guy, that is.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’m just out of a break-up myself. One of the reasons I was none so unhappy about leaving Scotland.”

“Oh, well…” She looked down as if expecting two beverages to materialize, waiting to be held aloft. Instead, she grabbed her bottle of eye tonic. Lamely spritzed it into the air. “Here’s to being single then!”

“Aye, to being single,” he said, the mist falling slowly between them. Claire had never heard a proper guffaw before, but the sound that came from Jamie’s mouth was what she’d always imagined a guffaw to be. Warm, kinda strange, totally hot.

“So,” she began, getting back on track. “You said your sister put you up to this? Any specific reason for that?”

“Dinna ken,” Jamie replied, smiling a little beneath his (also) perfectly attractive nose. “I dinna question Jenny when she tells me to do something. She’s into this kind of…” He looked at the crystal ball, the cards, the rather tasteless turban sitting lopsided on Claire’s head. “Weel, whatever you call this.”

“How wonderful,” Claire said, giving Jenny another once-over. Adorable, really, when Mortals got caught up in the craft. One minute they were watching Oprah, swallowing her New Age-y drivel, and the next thing they thought they were gods. Practicing divinations, performing séances in the streets with Glade candles and getting hit by Aramark trucks. (She’d read about it in the paper once.)

“Well, I suppose we should get on with it then. Will you open your hand for me? Palm up, please.”

Jamie laid his hand on the table. It, like the rest of him, was huge.

The last man Claire went out with had also had large hands. He’d taken her to the theater and—there was really no other description for it—had swallowed her with his bulk. Sucked her face, handled her boobs like a hungry squirrel might stockpile acorns. She could still taste his buttery-saltiness on her tongue, the little bit of crunched kernel that had slid from between his teeth to the back of her throat. She’d coughed, choking, and when he’d reached to pat her back, he’d decided to take a handful of her tit instead. Just held onto it, leech-like, while the fugitive kernel slowly killed her. (Luckily, his other hand—the one not squeezing her boob—handed her the Diet Coke, and she survived.)

Jamie wouldn’t do that, she thought. His big and gentle hand would pat her back first, then return, lightly graze her tit as if by accident. It would, quite possibly, be the most artful tit-graze in all of human history.

And sitting here, trying to read Jamie’s palm, Claire realized she wanted his hand, right there, quite badly. To have his thumb teasing her nipple through her shirt, maybe traveling a bit lower. Slipping beneath the elastic waistband of her panties, to her crotch, which Louise at Louise’s would’ve waxed just for the occasion. The noises she would make would disturb the other viewers, but Jamie, with those big and gentle hands, would not muffle them.

“D’ye see anything interesting?” Jamie asked now, and the image of his hand on her tit, while fingering her in the 13th row of the Regal Cinema, vanished. Was promptly replaced by worry.

“Well, it’s funny, really…”

The true answer was: nope, nada. Nothing. Not even a flicker of Jamie wrapped around a toilet bowl, vomiting bad cheeseburger on a Saturday night. Jamie Fraser’s palm was like one of those ancient texts she and Ray had pored over, all bizarre hieroglyphs and nonsensical syntaxes. But while they had managed a crude translation, this was something entirely different. Jamie Fraser’s palm, Claire knew, would never reveal its secrets—no matter how hard she tried.

Which was why Claire swooned a little bit, and why Jamie had to reach over to keep her from toppling to the ground. His hand, though it did not brush against that sacred spot of her breast, did find the small of her back, stayed there a touch too long. Through her fog of shock, Claire thought: There’s some sort of time etiquette for this kind of thing, right? A three-second max before it veers from a purely platonic gesture into something kinda sexual?

“That bad was it?” Jamie said, smirking.

“Sorry,” Claire replied, leaning into him. She lingered over his face but found no indication that he was feeling the same way, or even thinking, Blimey! That just veered from a purely platonic gesture into some thing kind of sexual!

“Fine. I’m fine. Peachy keen as they say!” Claire cleared her throat to keep her voice from cracking. “It’s just—your hand is a bit unusual is all. I’ve not seen anything like it.”

“Is ‘unusual’ a good thing or a bad thing?”

Well, Claire thought, that depended on what exactly was being called “unusual”. Because what she was feeling was really fucking unusual, and what she was feeling was a bone-deep, stomach-fluttering ache. Like Cupid had shot his arrow straight up her ass, punctured all her gory insides and skewered her heart like a shish kebab.

“I dunno, really. I guess it means—”

“I’m special?”

“You could say that.” Was she blushing? She was blushing. “Mr. Fraser…”

“Jamie.”

“Right. Jamie. I’m afraid—God, this is a little embarrassing—I can’t actually read your palm. There’s nothing there.” She slid the fiver across the table, feeling too frazzled to consider spinning one of her lies. “These things happen from time to time. I’m, uh, probably just tired. But you can have this back. I won’t take your money.”

“‘Nothing,’ ye said? You didn’t see a thing?”

“Afraid so. Nothing to worry about though. It’s not necessarily a bad omen…It’s—it’s hard to explain.”

For a man being given a very sincere and full refund, Jamie’s face was abnormally pale. The color had drained from his cheeks, and his hands—so incapable of leech-like grabs!—began to tremble. Two crooked fingers beat a nervous rhythm into his pant leg, and he quickly got to his feet.

“Keep the money, lass,” he said, “You can pay me back later.” And if he wasn’t in such a rush, Claire would’ve been able to confirm that she had, in fact, heard him say, “I’ll see you soon, Claire.” That her name wasn’t a tacked-on politeness, but something he’d said with the utmost tenderness.

And if Claire had been an upstanding member of the Coven Coalition— a studious practitioner of spells—she would’ve been able to hear Jenny and Jamie’s conversation from 50 feet away. Instead, she was forced to define Jenny’s smug whoop as if it were Gillian’s Word of the Day.

Jenny’s Smug Whoop (n):

1) a victory celebration, i.e. I told ye so, did I no’?!

2) proof of a mutual understanding of Witch Tip #3, i.e. A witch cannot see her own future (yet another palm-reading glitch). If, for example, Claire read a client’s palm, and her reading was filled with blips of blankness, then she had likely stumbled upon a deep intersection. Or, rather: a point in time where her future and the client’s were so intertwined—beyond family, beyond friendship—that Claire could not see the specific event due to her involvement and the aforementioned glitch.

And so there was one reason—one very momentous reason—that Claire could not read Jamie Fraser’s palm. He had a future, no doubt about it, but every second was marked by a certain curly-haired, British witch. (Refer to: a deep, ongoing intersection.) She, Claire Beauchamp—who was not at all an upstanding member of the Coven Coalition but who would certainly enjoy having those big, gentle hands in her underwear for the rest of her days—was Jamie Fraser’s future. You could, if you were of the romantic persuasion, even say they were soul mates.

The discovery of one’s soul mate has adverse effects on one’s respiratory system, and so Claire found it hard to breathe. She scrambled through her purse, found her flask, and took a hearty pull.

“I take it yer off duty, then?” said an unfamiliar voice. “Claire, is it?”

Claire looked up to find Jenny Fraser, that same smug wash of victory tugging at her eyes.

“Aye, but of course it is. I ken that already.” Jenny cleared her throat, expanded her chest like a sermonizing Sally Bain. “You’re Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, born October 20th, 1989 in Oxford, England. Parents, deceased—verra sorry for yer loss, by the way—and an uncle, missing in action. Yer also currently broke, by the looks of it, which is why yer selling wee pebbles covered in shite.”

Claire, utterly speechless, simply said, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” through a mouthful of gin.

“Christ, to be sure. Sadly, Mr. FDR is a bit worse for wear. Got a proper skelping back there.”

Claire looked around wildly and found Jamie watching them—albeit, still visibly flustered—by the freshly bludgeoned Roosevelt.

“Did the Coalition send you?” she asked, frantic. “Am I in trouble? Because…Look! I’ll stop selling the bird shit rocks, all right? Just please don’t report me.”

Jenny shook her head, laughing.

“Nay, it’s nothing like that. It’s only—weel, it appears you’ve just confirmed something I’ve suspected for some time now. About you and my brother.”

Witch Tip #4: Magical beings—witches, wizards, fairies, vampires, etc. etc.—are everywhere. The old woman throwing Reese’s Pieces at the ducks could very well be a shapeshifter. Your random client at the county fair could have a witch for a sister.

“If you’re referring to how I couldn’t read Jamie’s palm, then yeah, I—”

But Jenny interrupted, happily offered her hand for shake.

“I’d say that settles it,” she said. “If yer going to make a lovesick fool of my brother, then I think we should be friends, aye?”

#kaitrionabalfe #apologies for the profanity #three witches au #;mod liv #featuring: geillis #featuring: jenny #how many times have i written jamie and claire's first meeting?#TOO MANY FAR TOO MANY

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randallvangundy · 5 years ago

Text

Golden Retriever

Golden Retrievers are medium-sized dogs initially bred for bird hunting specifically for waterfowls. They are famous for having a dense, lustrous coat of gold, hence the name. They are one of the most popular dog breeds in America.

They are known as serious workers at hunting and fieldwork, blind guides, and even in search and rescue. They are also very obedient, enjoy competition, and love life when they’re not working.

Golden Retrievers are outgoing, trustworthy, and eager-to-please. They make great family dogs and are also easy to train. They are joyous, playful, and even maintain their puppy behavior until they are an adult.

Golden Retriever Statistics

Dog Breed GroupSporting HeightMales range from 23-24 inches and females range from 21.5-22.5 inches. WeightGolden Retriever males range from 65-75 pounds. Golden Retriever females weigh between 55-65 pounds. LifespanGolden Retrievers live approximately 10-13 years, on average.

Golden Retriever Ratings

Energy level Exercise needs Requires attention Playfulness Trainability Shedding Grooming Friendly with family Friendly with strangers Friendly with other dogs Prey Drive

History Of The Golden Retriever

There was a legend that Golden Retrievers descended from Russian sheepdogs, However, this is far from the truth.

Golden Retrievers originated from Scotland in the mid to late 19th century at the highland estate of Lord Tweedmouth.

During those times, hunting of wildfowl was highly popular among the wealthy Scottish Gentry. However, hunting grounds are marshy and have ponds, streams, and rivers scattered. The existing retriever breeds at those times lacked the necessary skills they needed to retrieve birds from land and water.

Lord Tweedmouth, just like any Gentry, bred a lot of animals to get that perfect breed. And in the year 1835 to 1890, he started aiming to produce an ardent fowl hunter, one with a keen sense of smell, attentive as a human hunting companion than the other breeds used at the time. He also wanted the breed to be loyal and even-tempered.

To try and breed a working dog with these specialized skills, retrievers of those times were bred with spaniels. So, in the mid-1890s, Lord Tweedmouth acquired Nous, a yellow wavy-coated retriever. He then bred Nous to Belle, a Tweed Water Spaniel, which produced four puppies, which became the basis of the breed we know now as Golden Retrievers.

These descendants are then crossbred with wavy- and flat-coated retrievers, tweed water spaniel, and a red setter. Of course, Tweedmouth kept the yellow puppies and gave the non-yellow ones away so he can continue breeding.

Golden Retriever Temperament

Golden Retrievers have a well-mannered temperament, which makes them great family pets. They are generally friendly, playful, obedient, and intelligent.

They are extremely active because they love to play. They enjoy morning walks, so you should give them at least two brisk walks in a day. You can also play fetch (since they are hunting dogs), and go for a run at least once in a week.

One great thing about this dog is they mature slowly. Their puppy-like personality will remain with them for many years, so you should instill good manners at an early age.

Their playful personality would require you to bring them on family vacations as they can quickly get sad without people around them. You don’t have to worry about them surrounded by strangers. Goldens are friendly dogs, and honestly, you can’t expect them to be good watchdogs.

As you might observe, Golden Retrievers always appear smiling, and they usually wag their tails in happiness. Also, keep in mind that they love to chew, so always have a toy near them if you don’t want your furniture to be their next target.

They are eager to please and are responsive. However, they can also be easily distracted by exciting sights and sounds.

So, if you want to have a Golden Retriever, prepare to be patient and persistent.

Care Requirements For A Golden Retriever

Nutrition

Golden Retrievers are large and active dogs with a big appetite, too. Make sure that you feed them with a high-quality diet that provides all the nutrients they need.

You must watch their calorie intake so they won’t get overweight. The National Research Council of the National Archives recommends between 989 and 1,272 calories a day for non-active golden-retrievers. Active ones will need to intake between 1,353 and 1,740 calories a day.

For feeding choices, you can give them the following:

Dry kibble to keep their teeth clean

Canned foods to provide additional moisture in their diet

Usually, commercial dog foods labeled “complete and balanced” already meet the standards of the Association of American Feed Control Officials, and already ensures that your dog will receive a balanced diet.

However, if you want to feed homemade diets, you must consult your veterinarian before trying to feed them anything.

Grooming

Golden Retrievers have great flowing, golden, thick, and soft fur, and this usually sheds once or twice a year. To keep the coat shiny and beautiful, it will also require regular grooming. So how do you do this?

Start by brushing your Golden Retriever from head to toe. Remember to spend more time in areas with thick fur. Brush your dog every week to prevent the coat from getting matted. But if there is, remove them with a pair of scissors (be careful).

Then, bathe your golden retriever with warm water and dog shampoo, rinse thoroughly, dry them, and comb them again. If your golden retriever is too dirty, then you can bath them first before grooming them. And if they’ve just been recently cleaned up, no need to bath them. Bathing them once or twice a month is already enough.

Clean up your Golden Retriever’s eyes and ears too. But, if you need to trim your Golden Retriever’s hair or cut their toenails, it’s best to take them to a grooming shop to be handled by experts. This way, your dog remains safe.

Exercise

Golden Retrievers are originally bred as hunting dogs, so it’s natural for them to need exercise too. Plus, with their playful personality, it would be impossible that you won’t end up playing with them in a day.

For puppies, they would only need less than 5 minutes of exercise each month he is alive. For example, a 2-month-old puppy would need no more than 15 minutes of exercise, while a 5-month-old puppy would need no more than 25 minutes of exercise. The exercise is generally brisk walking, and you can play fetch too.

For an adult golden retriever, a good one hour exercise every day is needed. But also, it depends on how healthy your dog is. Energetic dogs might require 2 hours a day, while those that have low energy can only take 45 minutes of exercise. Whichever doesn’t matter, the only important thing is that you take your golden retriever out for a walk regularly.

Health

Golden Retrievers are playful, and they require a lot of attention to stay healthy.

One of the most serious diseases that Golden Retrievers can get is cancer. According to statistics, 60% of golden retrievers die of this disease. So, if you’re getting this breed, you might need to take them to the vet twice a year.

Another disease is hip and elbow dysplasia. This is an abnormal growth and development of the ball and socket joint in the hips. For Golden Retrievers, they might continue to act playful despite being in pain, so they also need to be checked if you observe sudden stiff and slow movements.

The last serious issue is something that you can do something about, and that is separation anxiety. Being playful, loyal, and courageous, they love being around people. If possible, they shouldn’t be left alone in homes as they easily get lonely.

Other health problems that can occur are hypothyroidism, eye disorders, and seizures.

Lifespan

The lifespan of Golden Retrievers is between 10 and 13 years.

Famous Golden Retrievers

Tucker Budzyn: One of the most famous Golden Retrievers right now. He has more than 3 million followers on social media.

Golden Loutriever: A funny golden retriever who loves hiking, spending time outside, and swimming. He has more than 218k followers on Instagram.

Pinkie: Won the Best Breed at the Westminster Dog Show. She is beloved because of her high-class lifestyle and beauty ritual. But the most impressive thing that Pinkie did is that she served as a surrogate mother to three orphaned tiger cubs who lost their mother.

Buddy the Dog: Played two-major dog roles in his lifetime – in the series Full House and Air Bud.

Bailey: One of the first pets to become Insta-famous with his human-like content. Sadly, he passed away last 2016.

Liberty: A gift for late American President Gerald Ford, and quickly became a beloved addition to the presidential family.

Ray Charles: The Blind Golden Retriever that still manages to enjoy life.

Brandon: The sidekick and closest friend of Punky on the television series Punky Brewster

Fun Facts About Golden Retrievers

Golden Retrievers rank third as the most popular dog breed in the US.

Golden Retrievers can take care of other animals, such as cats (and tigers).

Being bred for hunting, golden retrievers are great hunting companions.

Golden Retrievers love to swim.

Golden Retrievers are great therapy and service dogs.

Golden Retrievers can also do great in search and rescue missions.

Golden Retrievers are the fourth smartest dog breed.

Their coat is water-repellent and sheds seasonally.

President Ford and Reagan had Golden Retrievers as pets while in the office.

Golden Retrievers are very easy to train, which is why they are the most popular choice to be cast in movies.

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