#and i am going to be very cross if those folks close down the library because of shitty empty moral panic

[magpiemood]

We had so many homeless regulars at the libraries I worked at. A lot of them were very nice folks who just wanted some place with climate control where they could relax and use the restroom without having to buy an overpriced latte. They would read the paper, use the computers, look at magazines, use the printer or copier or fax, browse our books. Same as any other customer. Sometimes I would help connect them to resources for places to stay or eat or even find work.

Sometimes we'd get someone having a real bad day and they would make trouble. Sometimes that might be our homeless patrons. But it was just as often any of our other patrons.

To me, keeping the library open and available to everyone, making resources and information available to those that needed them most, was and remains one of the most important functions of a library. That means letting homeless people hang out there so long as they follow the same library rules of behavior as everyone else.

I grew up and worked in a conservative area where we didn't have drag queen story times or pride month displays. But we had stern notes in some customers' files to remind staff about the correct pronouns to use.

And, yes, I would give kids books that they asked for, no matter what those books were. Because kids are also people and equal to our other patrons. Plus, it was not my job to make judgements on which books other people's kid were allowed to read. We were happy to work with parents/guardians who had restrictions on what their kids could read, but if you're not there giving us those restrictions, we were not responsible for guessing. I wasn't allowed to read scary books as a kid. But my best friend could, and did, frequently read horror novels from the general fiction area of the library. One of us had conservative, religious parents and the other didn't. Can you guess which one? (answer: not me!) So, yeah, I'm just gonna hand your kids the books they ask for without trying to guess which books their parents might get mad about. If you're going to get mad about the books your kids pick, you need to supervise them yourself.

Not all libraries can be open bastions of progressive values, but many of the staff were doing their best to treat every patron as if they had every right to be there. And we fought hard to keep "banned" books on the shelves.

The library in my hometown is funded by local taxes that come up for a vote every few years. Usually this is well-supported by much of the community. In the current political climate? I'm worried about it.

Libraries are one of the few "third places" folks can go to without having to pay for anything. And most librarians are advocates of freedom of access of information and vital resources to the whole community. If you can, please call or email your local library and ask them if they're facing any trouble because of outrageous claims about libraries and if there's something you can do to help.

Please also use your library. As said above, libraries have books and movies and more! Many things are available via digital services now so you can do most of your browsing from the comfort of your home, with things automatically returned so you never have to worry about late fees! Check out queer books and weird books and "banned" books. Request things you want your library to have. Believe me, our conservative customers sure put in requests for the books ghostwritten for Trump. And for every other shitty book you can imagine.

Shape the library by using it and requesting the books, resources, and programs you want to see available in your community. Protect it by voting for it and voting for local politicians who value its freedom, too.

So Fox News ran a story about how they think libraries are turning into drug-infested sex dens and I am shocked, shocked that I was never offered any drugs during my 15+ years working in libraries.

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 1 part 1

I’m not quite sure how to begin.

I’m not typically one for journaling but it would appear to be part of the gig, as it were. I found this book—the one I’m writing in, heavy and musty and leather-bound—sitting on the table when I arrived, open to a blank page. There are at least a thousand pages filled before it, and no matter how many blank pages I flip past this one I can’t reach the back cover without closing the book entirely.

Mòrag told me things that present themselves for investigation here tend to be worth exploring, and if my gut tells me what’s right not to stray from its guidance. But I’m getting ahead of myself—you don’t even know who I am.

My name is Fionn Gill, and I’m a witch. I know, I know, but I don’t get into all that “warlock” “wizard” shit. It’s just a way to separate and belittle the same practice based solely on the gender of the practitioner, in my opinion. My specialty lies in potion-making, though I’m not very experienced. I’ve really only just finished my training—I’m from Huntsmanland and they’re not nearly as magically-inclined there as they are in High Rannoc. This is the first part of the country I’ve visited other than my tutor’s homestead and I must say, it hasn’t made the most stellar impression.

My tutor Edith received a letter stating that services would be required in the town of Greenmoor, and since the letter didn’t specify her services, she sent me to take care of it. I don’t know if she expected it to be an indefinite position, but here we are.

I didn’t bring a lot with me—just enough for the journey. It was about all I could carry walking. I arrived in Greenmoor with just about the clothes on my back, hoping they had an apothecary of their own so I could get this over with.

I’ve never really been one for small towns, and nor do they have much love for me. I’ve always thought I was meant for adventure—movement, action, peril, all of it. Small town life just feels so… stagnant. Nothing changes, no one grows or changes or has anything interesting to talk about. It’s enough to drive you mad.

Not to mention the natural suspicion of outsiders. I could see it on Mòrag McKinney’s face, even as she greeted me at the edge of town in her official capacity as mayor. Her hair was done up in a huge bun of thick braids on top of her head—a hairstyle with a formality at odds with her armored clothing.

She seemed surprised when I told her I was the witch. That’s not uncommon—like most intellectual and healing work, witchcraft is traditionally the domain of women. Even in the relatively forward-thinking country of High Rannoc, I tend to get some variation on ‘oh, how progressive!’ when I tell people my vocation. Often if you get a man doing witchcraft, his neighbors will whisper certain things about him. My neighbors back home were whispering those things about me anyway, so that wasn’t much of a hurdle to me.

Mòrag (she insisted I call her by her first name once we’d been properly introduced) gave me a brief tour of Greenmoor. It is, to put it lightly, tiny. I’d estimate a population around fifty. Near everyone has a job that serves an internal function to the community, with maybe the exception of the innkeeper. There are blacksmiths, miners, a carpenter, a tanner… she didn’t indicate any artists or poets or anything of that sort to me, which was disheartening. Even when I thought I would only be here briefly, I was hoping to enjoy the finer things the locals had to offer. The closest this town comes is a library, but I sorely doubt they have any kind of collection of works by local authors.

Mòrag pointed out all the magical resources in town, and some of them impressed me—the lunar tower and ritual circle in particular looked useful. She did not show me any apothecary, and following her aforementioned advice, I took that to mean there wasn’t one. Can’t wait to go out and experience the joys of foraging in the wilderness myself.

Once we’d gone through the entire village, she showed me to the cottage where I’ll be staying. It’s a little ways away from the town proper, down a walking path through some trees. It’s little more than a one-room thing, with only the washroom closed off from the rest of the space. The walls and door are made of dark wood, and the outside still has bark attached in many places. The roof is sloped and overgrown with moss and ivy. Inside the main room there is a bed, a large set of shelves which ought to have reagents and potion-making materials on them but are mostly bare, and a table on which this book sits. The washroom has a tub and a latrine—no plumbing to be found. Out back sits the remains of a garden, only one plot of which looks salvageable. A ways back into the trees there’s a creek. Most of the rest of the clearing is in the early stages of becoming overgrown, with trees and bushes and flowers starting to stretch themselves out and remembering how to be wild.

Mòrag told me the witch who was here before me was a bit of a recluse. No one in town knew very much about her, and she seemed to prefer it that way. They came to her for her healing potions and never made it past small talk and kept inviting her to parties and festivals even though she never attended. And then one day nearly everyone in town woke up with a gift from her—the farmers received her animals, the barkeep her ferments, the innkeeper and bakers her crops. As the townspeople tallied their gifts they realized it amounted to nearly everything she owned. They went together to her cottage to ask her why she’d given it all away, and found her cottage—this cottage—empty. The ensuing search turned up no body, no note, not a shred of evidence to speak of. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. As the townsfolk talked and wondered what had happened, they quickly realized no one knew her well enough to provide any real insight. They couldn’t even come to a consensus on what her name was.

They had quickly moved on to discussing the more pressing issue: the town was lacking a healer. The general store owner had worked with my tutor Edith in years prior (Edith loved to tell stories of the time she spent pursuing the culinary arts). Thus, the letter and thus, my presence.

Mòrag told me she hoped I might be more engaged in the community than my predecessor. I decided to refrain from telling her not to get her hopes up, and instead expressed my confusion: I’d thought this was a single gig, that I was to heal someone of their illness and then leave.

She disabused me of that notion with rather more intensity than I think was warranted.

She told me that unless my predecessor reappeared, I was all they had. She said Edith had spoken highly of my abilities in her return letter (I doubted that—Edith never spoke highly of anyone). She told me I would receive a base pay of 20 silver per cure to start, and that if I did the townsfolk well and they grew to like me, they’d most certainly be willing to pay more. She told me that the folks of Greenmoor were good people, even if they were a bit disaster-prone and some of them could make good use of a little more common sense.

And, well, how do you say no to that?

When I asked where I would be getting my materials, she told me the areas surrounding Greenmoor were rich in natural resources. So it will be as I feared. I’m glad I brought my off-road boots.

Mòrag left me to get settled in and I immediately took stock. There are no reagents on the shelves (of course not! Why would there be?), but I did find a cauldron, mortar and pestle, and a copper alembic (which is used for distilling)—so at least once I have the reagents I’ll be able to do some basic cooking with them. I also found a small leather-bound book with vague descriptions of some of the areas surrounding the village. I should be able to cross-reference it with my notes on the environments where useful reagents can be found to make searching for materials a bit less painful.

I pulled a matted tangle of weeds out of the garden plot, but it looks like whatever was planted underneath already shriveled away to nothing. Well, at least the land’s clear now.

One thing that I knew I’d need if I was going to be able to handle this was a familiar. I’ve never been one for conjuration but in this case it’s an unfortunate necessity. I was supposed to be getting one within the next few weeks at Edith’s anyway, and I already knew the process. You’re supposed to have a more experienced witch observe your first time, but that’s just academic formality—there’s nothing actually dangerous about the process.

I found what looks to be a quarter cran basket (was my predecessor into fishing…?) under the bed, and set out around the property collecting small rocks and flowers and toadstools that had the right kinds of vibration. They were for use in the ritual, but also collecting them was a good start to cleaning the property up. Because if I’m going to be living here, it cannot stay looking like this.

I took the basket into the woods near the creek and laid its contents out in a circle as wide as I was tall. Before I placed each one down, I held it for a moment and asked it to help me with my task. Then, I sat in the center of my circle and closed my eyes and tried to meditate. Clearing my head has never been my strong suit, but I’m usually able to fudge the process enough to do what needs doing. This time took a bit longer than usual but eventually I managed. I felt my energy (spirit, consciousness, whatever) radiating out from me, pink and orange and bright and loud, first to the edges of the circle and then beyond. All of it asked a single question and listened for the answer.

The response came from much closer than anticipated, when I felt something small hop onto my knee.

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a frog staring back at me, blinking lazily and making small, guttural noises. Her back was green and rough and slimy. One of her eyes was milky, pointing vaguely off to the left, while the other gazed straight at me. The tips of her toes (three on each foot) edged closer to brown than the rest of her body.

Having clearly presented herself, she now asked if my gut said we would be good partners.

I’ve named her Ailean.

And now here I am, writing all of this down. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this every day. Whoever reads this may have to settle for a few times a week. With that said, I do think I’d like to go back and read what my predecessor wrote. Maybe it’ll give a clue as to where she’s gone, and help me escape this position sooner. She seems to have been quite the prolific writer—getting through her logs could take months, especially if the townsfolk keep me particularly busy with their various woes. I’ll have to start reading sooner rather than later.

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock on my door. It hasn’t even been a full day and I might already have my first customer. I’ll finish this later.

⇦●〇●⇨

[pocket-luv101]

First Impressions // Chapter 2

Fandom: Servamp Ship: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side), Tetsono (side), Jekuni (side) Characters: Hyde, Licht, Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: After Licht meets the wealthy bachelor, Hyde, she was certain that she could never be friends with him. Their paths continues to cross and she slowly comes to know him. Licht wonders if she judged him too quickly. (LawLicht, Pride and Prejudice AU, Fem Licht)

Ch.1 // (Ch.2) //

“Mother made it clear that she believes Sakura is the only one of us five who will catch the attention of a Servamp. Why must we waste time at this party as well? I would prefer to be home with my piano.” Licht lifted her champagne glass to sip her drink. She was stopped when Mahiru placed her hand over the glass and gently forced her to lower the cup to the table.

The town was holding a public ball to welcome the Servamp. The family was known for their wealth and generous donations so the mayor couldn’t be happier to hear that they rented the Hanafield manor. Licht thought the party was disingenuous at best. She didn’t enjoy crowds but their mother forced her to attend the ball. Their mother thought it was the perfect opportunity to meet the family. She sat at a table with her sisters and watched the others dance.

“This night will quickly turn to ruin if you drink wine, Licht. Not a single person in our family can hold their alcohol.” Mahiru warned her and swapped her drink for tea. “I understand that you find this party troublesome but it’s rude to refuse an invitation from the mayor. Furthermore, we should be here to protect our dear sister. Who knows what troubles mother will create to match Sakura with a Servamp? Mother considers her the most beautiful.”

Licht knew how modestly Mahiru spoke of herself and she didn’t know if it was for politeness or an insecurity she felt. She wanted to encourage her sister. “Sakura is beautiful but you’re more so. Your appearance can catch a man’s attention but it’s your bright mind that will capture their heart. Though, I would miss you if you decide to marry and leave.”

“Thinking simply, I cannot leave my sisters either. I would worry every minute I’m away from our home. You and Mikuni would set the house aflame the moment you two step foot into the kitchen.” Mahiru meant to joke with her sister but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She lifted her drink to her lips and sighed softly. The mention of their home reminded of their father’s will and how they could lose everything.

Licht could read Mahiru’s thoughts through her brown eyes. Even she knew that the ball was no place to discuss such a private matter. Her grip around the cup tightened until her knuckles became white under her gloves. She wished she could help Mikuni find a way to keep their home. She wasn't as knowledgeable about business or laws since her passion was music.

In the corner of her eyes, she noticed a group enter the ballroom. The entire room fell silent in awe of the family even before the footman introduced them. “Presenting the Servamps.”

The footman listed the siblings’ names but Licht barely heard his voice. She felt as if she was once again plunged into the creek and he was standing before her. The blond man who helped her the previous day was a Servamp and standing in the opened doorway. The cold shock she felt instantly became a burning rage when she recalled how he mocked her sister. She jumped to her feet to confront him once more.

“Do you intend to courtesy politely as they pass, Licht? If not, it’s best you sit back down. Let’s not cause a scandal.” Mikuni whispered the warning to her. They had told Mikuni and Misono about the encounter after they returned home soaking wet. She never expected the two men were a part of the Servamp family. “You may dislike him but open hostility is only excusable for men.”

Mikuni understood Licht’s anger but she also knew how the party would judge her sister if she attacked the blond Servamp. She leaned back in her chair and watched the Servamps cross the room towards them. She didn’t know why they would approach their table when they were a modest family with a more modest rank. Her voice lowered to a whisper as she addressed Licht. “It is unwise to confront him directly but I imagine you’re smart enough to think of other ways.”

Mikuni stood as the Servamps stopped before their family. She took the edge of her gown delicately into her hands and then made a shallow courtesy to greet them. She kept her thoughts hidden behind a wall of politeness and rehearsed greetings. “Welcome to the countryside, my lord. I hope you find our humble town to your liking. I am Mikuni Alicein Eve. May I introduce you to my sisters?”

“My brothers have already met two of your sisters. Though, they weren’t able to exchange a proper introduction. We wanted to come and apologize for the rudeness. I am the youngest, Snow Lily Olive Servamp.” He introduced himself and bowed. Then, Lily stood and light nudged his brother forward. “This is my eldest brother, Kuro Sleepy Ash Servamp.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Lord Servamp.” Mahiru greeted him politely and went on to introduce the rest of her family. Kuro bowed in return and Licht noticed how he had specifically regarded Mahiru with the gesture. “Thank you for stopping me from falling into the creek. Your brother saved my sister as well.”

“You may call me Kuro. I have so many siblings and our conversation will easily become confusing if you use our surname. I was never one for titles anyways.” Kuro told her. He hoped that he wasn’t being too forward with the offer. Often, only people who were close would casually refer to each other by their first name.

Mahiru appeared surprised at first but then her eyes softened into a smile. She held out her hand to him and said, “Then I insist that you use my name as well.”

“Mahiru,” He repeated her name. Kuro gently took her hand into his and lifted her fingers to his lips. The polite gesture left a lingering warmth on her gloved hand even after he let her go.

“Hyde, you should introduce yourself to the family as well.” Lily spoke to a shorter blond man. Mikuni interrupted them before they could speak.

“You’re the youngest of your family but remarkably polite and honourable. I would say that those are traits your older brothers have taught you. But, if your brothers knew their manners, they would have introduced themselves and apologized rather than having the role fall onto their young brother. As the eldest of my sisters, I would never ask them to apologize on my behalf.” Mikuni’s compliment to Lily was lined with barbed words.

“Mikuni, I think their good character was shown when they saved us.” Mahiru didn’t think it was fair for her sisters to antagonize the family after only one meeting. She understood that they mainly wanted to defend her honour and she tried to show them that she wasn’t affected by Hyde’s comment. “Kuro, I heard that your family will be moving into the estate next to ours and we will be neighbours. I would like to extend an olive branch between our family with a dance. Will you take a turn around the room with me?”

“It would be a pleasure.” Kuro held out his arm to her. She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and he led her onto the ballroom. Mahiru looked over her shoulder to silently speak with them. She mouthed for them to be cordial with the Servamps. Licht rolled her eyes at her motherly warning but she nodded in understanding. As much as she disliked Hyde for his comment, she wouldn’t make her sister upset.

Licht sat at the table again and only partially listened to Mikuni converse with the Servamps. She wasn’t as sociable as Mikuni or Mahiru and she found it difficult to join a conversation with strangers. She leaned towards Misono who sat next to her. “Both Mikuni and Mahiru are distracted. Perhaps, we can sneak into the library. I heard the mayor has imported a collection of Shakespeare plays.”

“They’ll eventually discover that we left the party and, no doubt, lecture us.” She whispered back.

“But we would already have our prize.” Her laughter was surprisingly light for the mischief she intended.

“Then, we must ask the caterer if they have sweets so we can return home with many treasures from our adventures.”

“Pardon me, Eve.” Hyde’s voice interrupted their conversation as he sat in the seat across from her. Licht was slightly irritated that his presence brought Mikuni’s attention back to them and they could no longer sneak away. He said, “I didn’t intend to insult your sister with my comment. But offense has been made and I would like to apologize. The next song will be starting in a few minutes. Do you dance, Eve?”

“Not if I can help it. Regrettably, I am not very graceful on my feet. I dare say that my dancing is barely a step above the way you floundered in the water yesterday.” Despite her comment, Hyde only laughed. She had expected him to be offended yet he wore an amused grin. “You don’t need to sit with us because you feel it’s the polite thing to do.”

“I find your family much more fun than the other guests here. I like that you speak your mind. It must be because you’re from a large family. We have that in common.” Hyde nodded towards Kuro and Mahiru dancing together. “They’re getting along. Our cross will pass more often if they truly become friends. Will you forgive me for my comment about your sister and forgive me?”

Her sister had already forgiven him and Licht didn’t have a reason to be upset on her behalf. Licht thought Hyde was rude but his family appeared kind. “You have four siblings. Even a large manor like Hanafield must feel crowded with so many people. Are you planning to live in the countryside? Wealthy folks like you tend to vacation here and spend the rest of your time in London.”

“There are actually eight of us all together.” He told her and her eyes widened. Licht had thought her family of five was large. Her reaction made him chuckle since he thought it was endearing and he wanted to see her other expression. “Three of my siblings decided not to come to the party. My brother, Doubt, has been working in this town for a while now. He said this is a quiet town and we decided to move here too.”

“Your family is rather famous so I’m surprised that we haven’t heard about a Servamp working in our town.” Misono said.

“He wanted to have a normal life so he changed his name before he moved here. We still keep in contact.” Hyde explained and Licht became curious about who his brother could be. From the way he smiled as he spoke of his family, she knew that he cared about them. “Doubt never enjoyed parties like this. Kuro doesn’t either but Lily convinced him to come.”

“Do you like parties?” Licht asked.

“With the right company.” He shrugged. “Though, this is the first time I’ve met someone interesting like you at a party.”

“Do you see Tetsu? I would like to ask him for another crab cake.” Misono asked Licht as they walked through the ballroom. She scanned the crowd and searched for the tall man. Licht knew that Misono’s true wish was to speak with the man rather than order food. Her sister could be shy and stubborn so she wouldn’t admit her feelings to others easily.

“Tetsu has many jobs, doesn’t he? He works at his family business, helps care for our horses and now he’s a waiter. He has a shift tomorrow but he’ll likely be tired after working throughout the night. You should talk to Mikuni and ask her to give Tetsu a day off. You and him can go horseback riding for fun.” Licht suggested and Misono blushed as she imagined it. It was clear to see that she had a crush.

“Do you think we’ll be able to convince Mikuni to let us ride into town? You know how protective she can be.” Due to Misono’s weak body, she could easily become sick and her sisters would fret over her. “I would like to buy a present for Mikuni. She has been stressed ever since she found Father’s will. The cakes that Eva sells always bring a smile to her face.”

“I can act as your escort during your walk with Tetsu. Mikuni can trust me to kick anyone who harms our precious little sister. Not even a giant like Tetsu is safe from a sister’s wrath. He might be a giant but we’re a family of angels.” Licht joked and patted her sister’s back. “I heard angel wings flutter when you dance with a person you love. You should ask Tetsu to dance with you.”

“That’s far too forward, Licht. I could never do that.” Misono’s face became red and she looked towards the ground to hide it. She was disappointed that she couldn’t dance with Tetsu because he was serving food to the guests. She admired how confident her older sisters were and she wished she could be more like them. They had always been supportive to her.

They stopped when they heard their mother’s voice. “Licht! Misono! I must speak with you two at this moment. Come with me.”

Their mother forced her way between them and took Licht and Misono’s arm. She dragged them to the corner of the room where the party wouldn’t be able to overhear them easily. Licht didn’t know why their mother appeared so frantic since the party had been uneventful. “Did something happen, Mother? I can find Mahiru and Mikuni if you feel unwell.”

“How could you not introduce your little sister to the Servamps when they approached our table? I heard rumours that Mahiru danced with Sleepy Ash. Do you know how sad Sakura was after she heard that? He would’ve danced with her if he saw how beautiful she was.” Her voice was a harsh whisper but it caused Misono to flinch slightly.

Licht stepped in front of her little sister to protect her from their mother’s glare. “Sakura was dancing and we couldn’t tell her immediately without being rude. I told you about my meeting with the blond demon who spoke poorly of Mahiru. He is a part of the family and I don’t think someone so rude will be right for Sakura. I’m certain that she’ll catch the eye of someone better.”

“You’re right.” Their mother nodded. “But I would still prefer to match Sakura with a prestigious family like the Servamps. She’ll be the one to save our family from destitution. Mikuni is much too focused on the business to find a family and Mahiru is such a wallflower. I doubt anyone will ask Misono to dance either.”

“Mother!” Licht yelled over her and her shout drew the attention of the entire room. She didn’t recoil from the stares and she kept her back straight. Even if she was her mother, she wouldn’t allow a person to insult her sisters. “My sisters are all brilliant and it’s a shame their own mother can’t see that.”

She turned away from her and pulled Misono away. Mikuni and Mahiru quickly joined them. She placed a hand on Misono’s shoulder. “This ballroom is too crowded. We should go outside for some fresh air.”

Before she could escape with her sister, Licht crashed into a person standing behind her. She felt something cold spill onto her dress and she looked down to see red wine staining her bodice. She looked up into eyes that were the same colour as the wine. Hyde smiled sheepishly and set aside his wine glass. “I’m sorry, Lichtan, I’ll pay for a new dress. For now, please take my napkin.”

“You don’t need to give me your napkin. I can wash this off better by myself.” She didn’t put much importance in clothes. She hooked her arm around Misono and walked away. “At least the demon gives us an excuse to leave.”

Licht held a candle close to the bookcase so she could read the titles of the book. After the scene in the ballroom, Misono was likely upset. She thought a book would help her feel better so she visited the library. Her friend worked at the library and he allowed her to search for a book to borrow. She walked around the bookcase and she was surprised to see a person sitting against the wall.

The lantern next to the man illuminated his face and she was surprised to see that it was Hyde. The library was closed and others shouldn’t be able to enter. He noticed her approach and he glanced up from the book on his lap. The room was dark with only sparse candlelight around them but he could see her shock. She had expressive blue eyes.

“I didn’t break into the library. I promised the mayor that I would make a generous donation to the library if he allows me to visit whenever I want.” He told her and closed the book. Hyde held up the library’s key to show her he was being truthful. “After a party, I like to read alone and a library after dark is the best place. Are you here in search of a book as well, Angel Cakes? I can help you find it.”

“I’m not much of a reader but my sister likes them. The only writers I know are the popular ones like Shakespeare. I wanted to borrow one of his plays from the library for her.” Licht ran her fingers over the spines of the book and she searched for the section that held the plays. Hyde stood and then he took down a few books.

“Shakespeare is famous for his tragedies but he has written a few comedies as well. They might cheer up your sister. Here, this is Midsummer Night’s Dream. She might also like this one.” Licht took the books from him and read the summary on the back. He mentioned that the book would lift her sister’s spirits and she wondered if he was referring to the scene her mother caused. He didn’t push the subject though.

“Thank you. She’ll like this one.” Licht slipped the books into her bag. Hyde leaned against the bookcase and stopped her from leaving immediately.

“I overheard your mother’s words to your sister. They were unfair. I planned to ask her to dance to prove your mother wrong but I ruined your dress instead.” Hyde had seen Licht defend her sister and he was impressed by her passion. “My siblings thought you sisters were wonderful when they spoke with them. You already know how great they are, don’t you, Lichtan?”

“I am an angel and it’s my duty to protect me sisters.” Licht’s voice was firm with her conviction. Hyde smiled at her declaration and he pushed himself off the shelf. He returned to the candle where he was reading earlier. He was much kinder than she first thought he was but she didn’t know if she should change her first impression of him yet.

[slytherindisaster]

NOT A DATE

I’ve been in a very soft mood for these two for a while now (I mean I’m sure everybody’s already noticed lmao), so enjoy this little winter-y kinda fluff featuring Roxariel (and some other folks). Also one of the dialogue lines was heavily inspired by this.

Roxie belongs to @weasleysandwheezes, Danny belongs to @catohphm, the Gryffindorks (who are mentioned) belongs to @unfortunate-arrow, @cursebreakerfarrier and @words-and-wands.

Word Count: 3,887

Wednesday, 18.15

Hogwarts’ Library

But I believe in Love

And I know that you do too

And I believe in some kind of path

That we can walk down, me and you

-

Someone snapped their fingers right in front of Gabriel’s face.

“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”

Gabriel slightly lifted his head and looked at the boy in Ravenclaw robes. He was sitting at the opposite part of the table and was surrounded by a large amount of books.

“Where had you go?” he asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Gabriel was zooming into his own world again and this time Danny was having none of it.

“I think I’m gonna ask her out” mumbled Gabriel, still looking somewhere beyond the reality he was currently in.

“Who? Elladora Ketteridge?” Danny asked snarkily.

“What?” Gabriel looked at him in confusion as if he finally realised, that not only there’s someone sitting in front of him, but that he’s also asking him questions “What are you talking about, mate?”

“Elladora Ketteridge” Danny repeated, extremely calmly. “The one we have to write an essay about? The essay we need to submit by tommorow morning?” his left eyebrow risen up “Does it ring any bells to you?”

Gabriel looked around at his surroundings, noticing that while the parchment laying in front of him was nearly empty, Danny’s were quite the opposite.

“Yeah, forget it” he waved his hand dismissively and closed the nearest book. “I’m going to ask out Haley.”

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”

“Yeah?” he shrugged.

“When are you going to give up eventually?”

“What do you mean give up?” Gabriel looked at him triggered “I thought you out of all people would be supportive! You basically bullied me into having feelings for her, with all your admit that you like her already bull-crap talks!” he said imitating his friend’s voice.

“I do not sound like that.” said Danny but he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Whatever, my point is — you succeeded. I do like her and now I’m going to take her on a date, because it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, for Gordic’s sake!”

With each word he was speaking louder, which eventually catched the attention of the librarian.

“Mr Sapieha!” she scolded him.

“I am incredibly sorry m’am.” he answered immediately, as if he knew it was going to happen.

Danny sighed.

“You’re aware that she must agree to it first, right?”

“Oh, she will” said Gabriel with the amount of confidence as if she already did.

“Right, just like all those times before?” his friend rolled his eyes with a slight smile.

“Look, she will go out with me this time. I mean, let’s be honest — for how long you can resist this pretty face?” he gestured at himself.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her yourself?” Danny pointed the quill he had in his hand at the library door, that just opened.

Gabriel turned around and leaned back in his chair, trying to get a better look.

“Haley!” he called out.

This time the librarian just glanced at him angrily.

“Right, my bad. I apologise” he said and sent her a charming grin.

Roxanne Haley, who just stepped into the library, was a girl that possesed both incredible wit and the privilege to call herself definitely more than pretty. That blond-haired Ravenclaw were — in Gabriel’s eyes — practically a perfect match for him. The only minor obstacle for them living happily ever after were the fact that she seemed to have a deep aversion towards him. And she wasn’t shy to show it.

Not that he was actually bothered by it.

Roxie crossed the whole library looking like she knew exactly what she needed to do and how much time it’s going to take her. Gabriel could sewar that this girl even sneezed only when she planned it before.

“Hello Roxie” said Danny when she stumbled past them.

She paused at the sound of her name and took two steps backwards. She smiled when she saw that it was Danny who called her.

“Oh hi! I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, I’m kinda busy actually” she said in one breath “I need to finish all the assignments for the week if I want to have the time do go to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Let me guess, you’re all out of quills already?” asked Danny in a tone that implied he knew the answer already.

“If only of quills!” she laughed and turned her head slightly to see that there’s another person listening to this conversation. Her laughter immediately died out. “Sapieha.” she said acknowledging his presence.

“Haley.” he responded with a playful wink. “Fancy to join us?” he asked, still leaning back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant.

“Are you daft? Why would I want to willingly spend time with you?” her brows furrowed as she spoke. “Besides, I was just saying that I am busy.”

“Come on!” he groaned “You can admit that you enjoy our study sessions.”

She blinked couple of times, as if she didn’t quite catch what he said to her.

“Danny and I have study sessions. You just so happen to be there everytime, just to annoy the shi—“ she cleared her throat. “To annoy me.”

“Well if you’re really so bothered by me why do you keep showing up?”

“Because I’m friends with Danny, genius!”

“Well he’s my friend too” he put his hands up in defensive gesture “so, it looks like we’re stuck together!”

“Mister Sapieha, Miss Haley, for the last time—“

Roxie opened her mouth to apologize, but Gabriel was faster. He put his chair back on it’s four legs and turned around to look at the visibly irritated woman.

“I am so sorry m’am, It’s utterly my fault” he said with a sheepish smile on his face, looking right at her “What about I stay around to clean this place up after you close? You really deserve some time off, after putting up with all of us all day m’am.”

The woman’s expression softened a little.

“Or you can just keep quiet from now on?” she said but this time there wasn’t any anger in her voice.

“Of course!” he said loudly “I mean— from now on.”

He turned back to his table, only to see Danny looking at him with disapproval.

“You need to stop doing this.” he said.

“Doing what exactly?” asked Gabriel, trying to appear clueless.

“You know what.”

“Okay first of all —“ he began, leaning back into his chair again. “it’s not like I can control it completely. Sometimes it just... happens naturally. Second of all— I’ll remind you about this conversation next time you will need something from the restricted setcion” he gave him a knowing look and the he turned Roxie. “Haley, you were saying?”

“Do I— do I want to know what was this about?”

“I have a better question” said Gabriel, grinning “Do you want to know what we’re doing this weekend?”

“We?”

“Yeah, we” he nodded in agreement “I’m taking you to Hogsmeade.”

“Not in a milion years, Sapieha” she snorted.

“You said you were going to do some shopping anyway, right? You might as well kill two hipogriffs with one stone.” he winked at her again.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes...” she rolled her eyes.

“Actually we can all go together” Danny swooped into their conversation “I need to take care of some stuff there too.”

Roxie sighed heavily, and shoot Danny a disappointed look.

“Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

“Quite the opposite actually” he chuckled “It’s simple, I like to spend time with both of you” he shrugged. “Please, don’t let me ask you twice, Roxie.”

Roxie took a deep breath, reviewing her options. She looked at her friend after a while, visibly tired.

“Fine. Don’t make me regret this Danny.” she said and walked away, leaving them alone.

Gabriel glanced at his friend annoyed as soon as she left.

“What? What did I do this time?”

-

Saturday, 12.45

Outside The Hogwarts Castle

The excited chatter could be heard from a mile away, as always when it came to Hogsmeade weekends. Hogwarts students were all around the place, not even bothered by the cold whether of late December.

Gabriel was looking around the courtyard, now filled with the school’s carriges with no carters, trying to find his friend. Although he and Danny didn’t really established where they’re supposed to meet, Gabriel was hoping to see him sowhere between the groups of other students, trying to get nice spots for the road.

Finally he spotted a familiar streaks of blonde hair, blowing in the wind, which of course haven’t belong to the person he intended to find, but nevertheless the search turned out to be a success. The girl he was watching, just walked towards one of the carriges that were left on the side of the courtyard, as if she was sure that it’s empty.

“Oi, Haley!” Gabriel yelled and jogged up in her direction. She pretended not to see him and tried to quickly close the carrige door, but he managed to catch it just in time. “Hey, where’s Danny-boy?” he asked, catching his breath, when he noticed that she was the only one inside.

“He said that he’s feeling sick and isn’t coming” she said casually, although her expression looked like she was holding back a couple of curse words.

Oh, he did, didn’t he? Gabriel thought to himself. This sneaky bastard! And just when I started to doubt him.

“Although I think it’s pretty weird, because he seemed perfectly fine when I saw him at breakfast today!” Roxie continued to rant, as Gabriel tried to swallow a cheeky smile that was crawling up on his face.

He slowly climbed the carrige steps.

“So...” He said as he sat himself at the couch across from her. “Looks like it’s just you and me then” he stated and closed the door.

“What?” she looked at him shocked. “Oh, not a chance, Sapieha, you’re walking out of this carrige right—”

They both felt a small bump and the carrige started to move slowly. This time Gabriel couldn’t help but smile.

“You were saying?” he asked, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“We’re parting ways, as soon as we walk out of this carrige.” she said in a cold voice, looking outside the window, at the road.

“Oh, come on, Haley!” he groaned “Let me take you on a date. Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for!”

“Not in this life. Or any other for that matters.”

“Why not?”

“Because” she said, finally turning to him, the look of her eyes seemed to be way colder than all the snow laying outside the road. “I have utterly no interest in you whatsoever, and even if I did, which is impossible and not going to happen, I do not have time for this kind of stuff.”

“Ouch” he laughed putting a hand on his chest, in a place when his heart was “that’s pretty harsh, even for you, Haley.”

“Ugh, grow up.” she rolled her eyes and returned to looking out the window.

“Okay, no dates then. But let me just tag along while you’ll do your chores. I mean we were supposed to spent this time together anyway, remember?” He changed his tactic. “Also I have nothing to do there anyway, all my friends stayed in the castle.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw the Ellison boy, along with the others — how do you keep calling yourselves? Massive dorks? — outside the castle, betting if they can spent the whole ride to Hogsmeade at the roof of the carrige.”

“Gryffindorks” he corrected her “And it could be anyone, really” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“They were yelling to you, about why aren’t you coming” she raised her eyebrows in a pretentious manner.

“I— I’ve never seen those guys in my life before” he said in full seriousness.

“Whatever.” she said rolling her eyes again, but he could swore he saw a shadow of a smile passing by on her face.

“So, how’s it gonna be?”

“Why would I even want for you to come with me anyway?” Roxie asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Um, besides the fact that you can enjoy the company of yours truly?” he teased, but the look on her face made him quickly regret that sentence. “I’ll carry your stuff or something.” he srugged.

She remained silent, thinking intensively about an answer, and it looked like she was searching for any reason why she would agree on it. After what felt like forever she finally announced:

“Fine.”

-

17.26

Hogsmeade Village

Roxie stepped out from another shop with, yet another paper bag full of school supplies. She went trough the list she made in her head and checked if there is any place she forgot to visit. When she finally established that she was, in fact, done with shopping, she realised that something was missing. Or rather someone. And as she would normally be pleased to be finally left alone, he had all her stuff with him.

“I’m sorry, were you waiting for long?”

She turned around and was more than relieved when she saw that he was still holding her bags as she left them. To her own surprise she was actually kinda glad that he was back at all, and the stuff he was carring had nothing to do with it.

She quickly shook her head, trying to repress those thoughts.

“Where were you?”

“Why, you missed me?” he smiled cheekily but her face remained unimpressed. “Uh, I got kinda hungry so I stepped into Honeydukes, while you were shopping for quills at Scrivenshaft’s.”

“You got hungry, so you went to buy some sweets?”

“Um, yeah? Oh, right” he digged into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small blue box. “Here.”

“Wha—“

“I wasn’t sure if you preferred the regular frogs or the white chocolate ones, so I bought both” he said as he handed her the box “...but then I kinda ate the white chocolate one, so, I hope you like the regular ones.”

They both started to walk slowly, although neither had the idea where they were heading now. The freshly fallen snow was creaking under their boots.

“Right. Thank you, I guess?”

“Just take the frog” he said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Fine.” she shrugged and stared to open it but then she suddenly stopped. “Wait— how do I know that you didn’t fill it out with some love potion or something?”

Gabriel’s smile disappeared. He furrowed his brows and said with all seriousness:

“I feel deeply offended by that, Haley. Merlin, I know you don’t think very highly of me, but a love potion? Seriously?”

Her already rosy cheeks, slowly turned into a shade of red.

“How could I know? You’re kind of a wild card, aren’t you?” she said defensively.

“Well, do you really think I need such thing as a love potion? Have you seen me?” he laughed suddenly, his expression softened.

“First of all, how can one person be this full of oneself?” she asked snarkily.

“Haley, I am just messing with you—”

“Second of all” she continued, ignoring him. “I rather be safe than sorry. Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of something like this!”

Gabriel slowed down a little, processing what she just said.

“So, you think I’m handsome, huh?”

“That’s— that’s not even near the point I was trying to make! Is this all you got from my words?”

“Well, do you?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself down. A little cloud of steam escaped her mouth when she exhaled.

“Just for the record — yes. I think you kind of fit into the conventionally attractive category. Although I am positive, that the simple fact of you having Veela genes heavily influenced this opinion.”

He looked at her in full suspicion, his brow furrowed again.

“Wait, how do you even know about that?” he looked her up and down, but her expression, as always, wasn’t telling him anything. “I thought it weren’t a public knowledge? Don’t get me wrong, I am not ashamed of it, just— I’m not going around the school telling that stuff to everybody I meet.”

“I just always do my research well.” she said casually, not looking at him.

“Research? You were doing research on me?”

“I— I like to know the enemy well enough!” she tried to explain, but in result she buried herself even deeper.

“Merlin, are you even hearing yourself right now? Haley, I hate to be the one breaking the news for you, but you’re totally obsessed with me!” he laughed, noticing that her cheeks got even more red.

“That’s not what—”

“I mean, not that I mind” he shrugged his shoulders.

They walked in silence for a some time. Roxie’s face went back to her normal color or, at least, as normal as one can be during a winter afternoon. She looked at him from the side, shaking her head, but her lips were curled into a small smile.

“You’re a weird one, Sapieha” she said after a while.

“Hey, look who’s talking. Do you have, like, a file on me or something?”

“You’re still onto that? I’ve told you — it’s not like that!”

“What’s it like then?” he asked, looking genuinely interested. “How do you know about me being a quarter-Veela?”

She sighed heavily, before answering.

“I think Danny mentioned it to me at some point.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying that you’ve been talking about me with Danny? That’s interesting.” The shit-eating grin once again crawled back onto his face.

“Don’t start it—!”

“No, no— I’m quite flattered actually.” he said quickly, cutting her off. “You see, I’m always interrogating my friends about the people that I deeply despise too.”

“Yeah, right” she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“It’s true, though. That’s how I know that you’re a Capricorn for example.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess that makes perfect sense given that you’re willing to give up basically everything just to be at the top of the class.” he chuckled to himself “I should probbably been able to figure it out myself. Feel kinda stupid now, honestly. Although I still have no idea what’s your rising sign, or moon for that matters—”

Gabriel finally spotted her confused look. A cold wave of embarrassment went down his spine. His confidence melted almost as fast as the snowflakes falling onto his head.

“It’s just— kind of my thing, you know? Or I like to think that it is. Astrology, I mean.”

With the corner of his eye he noticed that she shivered a little. Seeing it as the perfect opportunity to drift the unwanted attention away from his stupid babbling, he took off the scarf, that was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Here.”

He overtook slightly and stopped right in front of her, forcing her to do the same. Before she got a chance to protest, he carefully wrapped the scarf around her neck.

“Shut it, Haley, will you? I can see that you’re cold.”

“It’s— Actually it’s surprisingly thoughtful of you” she said, with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“What? I can be a gentleman!” he angrily tucked his hands back into his pockets.

She started to laugh at his frustrated reaction.

“No, I mean— It’s seems weird that you’re so concerned about me being cold, while you are the one walking around in an unbuttoned coat” she said as she grabbed the flaps of his coat, pulling him a little closer.

“Well I just—” he swallowed the words he wanted to say. Instead he just looked as she started doing up the buttons.

“Done�� she said after a couple of seconds but, to both his and her surprise, she didn’t take a step back.

“Perfect” he murmured as a thank you, although he haven’t took a single glance at his coat. He was looking at her instead.

She lifted her head a little and finally locked her eyes with his. He was sure that somehow she got even closer, though he wasn’t really confident if it was her who moved or if he did it himself. They stayed like this, caught up in the moment, for a little while. Then, Gabriel managed to gather all the courage he had left in him, and just as he leaned in to cut the distance between their lips—

SMACK

— something hard hit him in the back of his head, and almost immediately shattered in pieces.

“Ha! You missed!”

He turned around, his eyes glowing with anger. Two third years freezed with the laughter on their faces. The one standing farther realised that the snowball he send seconds ago didn’t miss after all.

“Oi! Watch out you two!” Gabriel yelled in their direction, annoyed.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” the one who hit him yelled back.

“Well, I sure hope you didn’t, mate!” Unexpectedly, a chuckle escaped Gabriel’s mouth. “Otherwise I would have to challenge you to a snowball fight. And let me tell you, I’m incredibly good!”

The boys both smiled with relief, when they realised that he wasn’t mad. Or at least he didn’t sound like he was.

“Right, I can’t imagine the defeat I would face from your hands!” the boy said cheerfully, the other one started to laugh.

“Yeah, you never know when you accidentally hit a snowball fight champion!” Gabriel laughed with them “So try to be more careful next time, will you?”

“Sure thing!”

Gabriel nodded towards the opposite side of the street with a playful smirk.

“Now, get outta here!”

The two third years ran off with laughter trailing their way.

Gabriel turned back to Roxanne, only to find her standing at much bigger distance than she was before. Despite that though, he was able to notice that she was heavily blushing, and again it wasn’t because of the low temperature.

“Remind me to never challenge you to a snowball fight, Mr. Champion” she said with laughter.

“Hey, I am really good at it, okay?” he pretended to be offended. “Although I must admit that he had a good hand too, it hit me pretty hard” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Baby.”

“Well aren’t you moving fast, Haley. Are we in the pet names stage, already?”

“What? No. I was insulting you!”

“Could’ve fooled me” he sent her a playful smile.

“Shut up” she shoved his shoulder, but a small smile was present on her face.

“You’re the one who started it.”

She rolled her eyes and begin to walk again.

“Come on, move it, Sapieha!” she called, without looking at him.

“Wait, where are we going now?” he asked trying to catch up with her.

“The Three Broomsticks are just around the corner” she said over her shoulder. “I think I might let you buy me a Butterbeer.”

A wide grin appeared on his face.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Right” he nodded as he walked up to her side.

He extended his arm to her, and even though Roxie rolled her eyes at first, she tucked her hand under it. They haven’t really talked until they reached the Three Bromsticks, but for some reason, the silence hanging between them wasn’t awkward at all.

Actually, it felt just about right.

-

So keep your candles burning

And make her journey bright and pure

That she will keep returning

Always and evermore

Into my arms

— Nick Cave, Into My Arms

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Body Stealing Black-Eyed Bitch (2) // Jack Kline/Belphegor X Reader

A/N: This is part two so make sure you go read the first one in order for this one to make much more sense lol. This one is actually a lot longer than the first one because me being stupid didn’t equal it out.

TAKES PLACE DURING 15x01 (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: Kinda...people wanted this second part but I was gonna make it anyway

Warnings: Blood, some forms of gore, some angst, and some heavy makeout session

PART 1

Not my gifs!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

-

The guys ran to the doors to check the outside while you stayed back and stared down the demon. He noticed you looking at him and smiled.

“What? No thank you?”

You scoffed. “As if I’ll ever thank you.”

You and Belphegor followed the older men to the outside. You exited the tomb and saw that the sky was still an eerie dark black, but the several dead walking bodies had collapsed on the ground, lifeless once more.

“Hey, it worked! High five!” Belphegor cheered, lifting his hand for high five that one paid any attention to.

“The spirits have been destroyed.” Castiel said, looking around the graveyard.

“No, I actually just blasted them out of those bodies.” Belphegor walked past the four of you.

“So where are the ghosts, then?” Dean asked.

Belphegor didn’t really give a proper answer and you all just sighed then headed toward the chevy impala. As always, Dean was driving and Sam was in shotgun. You, Castiel and Belphegor sat in the back, much to yours and Cas’ distaste. It was a bit worse for you since you were trapped in the middle of the two, meaning you were closer to the demon.

The five of you drove down the dark road as Sam checked online if there was anything on the news. Belphegor was checking out his vessel in the car’s mirrors.

“I mean, come on. I look good.” He said while fumbling with his glasses.

“Don’t get used to it.” You barked, your arms crossed and face blank.

“I’m gonna have to, sweetheart.”

“Anything?” Dean asked his brother, changing the subject.

Sam glanced at Dean with a strange look. “No, not yet. I mean, the news, they didn't...it just... I'm not seeing anything about a worldwide zombie apocalypse.”

“So... Ghostpocalypse. Maybe it's just happening here.” Dean suggested.

But Belphegor shrugged from the backseat next to you.

“Eh, for now. I mean the souls gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, how many are we talking about, by the way? Souls?” Sam asked, turning his body to face Belphegor.

“In hell?”

“Yes.”

“Two...three billion.” The demon shrugged nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened while Sam and Dean shared a dour face. They knew lots of souls escaped from Hell but not that many.

“Alright. Let's just stick to the plan, alright? We head back to the bunker, figure out how to close the rift.” Dean said.

Belphegor sucked in a breath. “If you can.”

You glared your eyes to him.

“Yeah well, you got a better idea?” You snapped.

“I do not. But if you wanted to buy some time, you could always contain the ghosts.” He told you.

“Contain them how?” Asked Sam.

“Magic.” He answered, as if it was obvious.

“And you just happen to know the right spell?” Cas pointed out.

“Lucky you.” Belphegor said, smirking at you.

You just rolled your eyes and sank back into your seat.

“What do you mean by "contain"?”

“Imagine a salt circle a mile wide. No ghosts get in, no ghosts get out.”

“No,” Castiel interjected. “That town, Harlan, Kansas is less than a mile from the cemetery.”

“Then we get everyone out.” Dean deadpanned.

“How?”

“We lie.”

-

It was already light once you guys arrived back in the town. Sam left the car to speak to the sheriff about the town’s evacuation, you, Dean, Cas and Belphegor were left in the car.

“We can handle the evac, so why don't you grab Crowley Jr. here whatever he needs for his spell?” Dean told you and Cas.

“No.”

“I’m not doing that.” You both protested at the same time.

“What?” Dean confusingly asked.

Castiel looked anywhere but Belphegor. “Dean, I can't. I-I...I can't even look at him.”

A terrible silence went through the car before Cas finally just sighed and left the car. Dean just turned back into his seat and pulled out his extra pistol, opening the glove compartment and shoving it in there out of plain sight. Belphegor took notice and looked over the seat to see what he hid.

“Uh, what’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, cool.”

Dean looked at you in his rearview mirror and sighed.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna need you to help...Belphegor find his supplies and seal up the town. Once you finish the spell, come find us, okay?”

“I am not dealing with him...I can’t. This demon is inhabiting Jack’s-” You stopped. “He’s using his body, Dean.” You confessed to the eldest Winchester brother.

“Sorry, but I’m not asking, Singer.” Dean scolded you, using your last name.

Whenever he used it, you knew he meant business. No one ever called you by your adoptive father’s last name but the Winchesters and that only happened in times where you really pissed them off. You just scoffed and scooted farther away from the demon next to you.

Being near Belphegor kept reminding you that the love of your life was gone forever. Every memory, good and bad, about Jack replayed in your mind. From when you first found him, to teaching him to control his powers or even when he ran away. Your heart and mind ached, ached for your love back.

You noticed that Dean and Belphegor stepped out of the car so you followed on your side. Dean gave you strict instructions about the demon (mainly on making sure he didn’t go rogue and kill you) and then left you alone with him.

As you walked down the street, Belphegor walked next to you and watched several people who walked past you two. He eyed their appearances then whispered to you.

“So, people are, like, crazy good-looking now, eh?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in a mix of irration and confusion. “What?”

“I mean, the last time I was on Earth, when I was human. Ah, it was a while ago. I mean, but, you know, we were all worshipping this giant rock that looked like a huge penis, and...”

“Ew, dude, TMI.” You grimaced. 

“It’s true! Anyway, folks back then, they were, uh, ugly. You know? Had a lot of humps. I mean, a lot. Look at 'em now,” Belphegor stared at your body and smiled. “I mean, look at you. I mean, you're, uh, you know, beautiful.”

You halted in your tracks and a memory popped into your mind.

“You’re very pretty, (Y/n).” Jack told you.

You looked up at him in surprise. The two of you were just in the middle of searching for a case in the bunker’s library when he broke the silence with his words. Jack was just staring at you with a lovestruck gaze and you blushed heavily.

“Thank you, Jack. I think you’re very pretty, too.” You replied, trying to focus on your computer.

“No, no, I mean it.” You looked back up at him, staring into his piercing eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

A tear escaped your eye before you had a chance to wipe it away. Belphegor saw you had stopped walking so he looked to you and saw your bleak expression.

“Um... you good?” He asked, going to shake your shoulder but was stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

“Never touch me. Never call me beautiful. And don’t you ever ask me if I’m good,” You furiously wiped at the tears in your eyes. “Because I am never good.”

You could see out of the corner of your eyes that some people were starting to stare at you two. Although you were still angry, you let go of his wrist.

“Let’s just get your shit and get out of here. Wh-When are you gonna get out of that body, anyway?” You asked.

“Eh, when I find another one. I mean, I would've jumped at the cemetery, but all those meat suits were a little too, uh, you know, wormy. Difficult to blend, if you will.” Belphegor droned on.

“Yeah...sure.”

“So, uh...who was...he, anyway?”

You turned to him but continued walking. “What?”

“Well, I know he was your boyfriend and all but uh...who was this kid?” He curiously asked.

You hesitated before answering.

“His name was Jack. He was a lot of things. To the boys he was their kid. Kinda. But to me,” You swallowed. “He was important. My love, my light, my everything. And now he’s gone, with you inside his corpse.”

The demon could see the emotion in your eyes, even if you did try to keep a straight face, Belphegor could see what you were truly feelings.

“Oh. Uh...sorry.”

You shook your head and carried on.

“So, what do you need for this spell?

“You know, nothing much. Big bag of salt.”

“Easy.”

“And a...and a human heart.”

You physically groaned. You really need a break from death.

-

You exited the convenience store with a huge bag of rock salt. Turning to your left, you entered an alleyway where Belphegor was leaning against a brick wall. He noticed you coming toward him and brushed off his vessel’s clothing.

“Here’s your salt.” You said, handing him the bag.

“I’m going to call Dean about the heart. Maybe he knows a way to get one.”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and began to search for Dean’s number in your contacts until you saw Belphegor staring at you. For a moment, he reminded you of Jack and his innocent gazes.

“Is there a problem?” You asked. He shook his head.

“No, no, it’s just...you’re very popular in hell.”

“I am?” You asked, pretty curious.

“Yeah. I mean, you may not be Winchester famous but still really well known.” The demon affirmed.

“And how exactly am I “well known” among Hell? I’ve been with the boys for almost eight years now and no demon has ever told me that I’m popular.”

“Kevin Tran, duh. He always talks about you, talks about how you were his best friend and how much he missed you- god he was so whinny.”

You stared at the demon with a blinking look, not sure if you had hear him correctly.

“K-Kevin? Kevin Tran?” You wanted him to confirm. He nodded.

“But God said- Chuck said he was going to Heaven. Kevin is supposed to be in Heaven!” You fumed, getting angrier by the second.

First that son of a bitch messed up your lives for his own entertainment, then he kills Jack, and now apparently he didn’t even send your old best friend to Heaven like he said he would! That lying bastard.

“I’m going to fucking kill that bastard of a writer.”

“Woah, woah, chill. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to be calm! My best friend is in Hell!”

Your breathing started to pick up, your mind clouded by anger and you paced back and forth in the ally way. You didn’t even notice Belphegor come up to you and grab you by the shoulders.

Not really knowing anything else to do, Belphegor lifted your chin and smashed his lips onto yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and didn’t even have a chance to respond to the kiss. Because he was using Jack’s body, he tasted like him, felt like him and even the way he held you felt like Jack. For a moment, you forgot that it wasn’t Jack in his body, it was a demon.

After feeling you not freaking out anymore, Belphegor let you go and stared you in the eyes, you staring at your shocked reflection in his sunglasses.

“You calm now?”

You weren’t even thinking anymore. It had felt like forever since you kissed Jack, and even though your mind knew it wasn’t him, your body still craved for his touch again. Without even thinking, you forced your lips back onto his.

Belphegor responded almost immediately, kissing you with just as much passion as you did. His kisses were different, not the soft and sweet kind that your Jack and you always shared. No, this was different, what you felt was true lust and roughness.

You felt him push you up against the brick wall he was leaning against and you could feel his hips grind into yours. You moaned into the kiss, feeling Belphegor’s smirk against your lips. One of his hands found their way from your hips and almost up your shirt.

The hot and heavy kiss had only lasted for a while until Belphegor let your lips go. His stupid and cooky smirk was plastered on his face.

“Come on, we got a bunch of souls and ghosts to seal into this town, right?”

The demon walked past you and out of the alleyway, standing at the end and waiting for you. After everything that’s happened to you in the past couple of days, you managed to make a tiny smile at him.

-

Later, after calling Dean, you told him about the heart you needed for the spell and he suggested you going to morgue. You and Belphegor walked down the empty street, heading to your destination.

“So...about that heart.” He brought up the subject again.

“On it. Dean said that we could probably just head down to the morgue.”

You saw the demon shrug and scrunch up his face.

“Hmm. Fresh, it'd be... it would be better.”

You were about to answer when a man screaming in the distance caught your attention. Immediately, you ran towards the sound with Belphegor following behind you. You went down the street and around the corner to see the town’s sheriff laying on the ground, dead.

You kneeled down to the body and saw a closer look to his neck. There were deep scratches that cut deep and blood drained from his body onto the pavement.

You internally gagged, but managed to keep it down and covered your mouth with your hand. Belphegor wasn’t very affected from the dead man on the ground.

“Hmm, cool.”

You looked up to him with a weirded out face, he just shrugged as if it was nothing. Then again, he was a torturer in Hell for thousands of years.

“Fuck...”

“Yeah. Yeah, poor guy.” Belphegor said with no sympathy at all.

He leaned down toward the body and pushed his hand into the man’s chest, you backing away in disgust and shock. Belphegor pulled out a fresh, bloody heart and showed it to you.

“Well, I got a heart,” Bel smirked and held the organ out to you. “I would give it to you but-”

“I don’t care.” You deadpanned.

He raised his hands up in defense.

Suddenly, the air around you turned cold and when you exhaled, your breath turned white. You knew what this was, a ghost was near.

“We need to move. Now.” You commanded the demon until you heard a voice from behind you.

“Can you take me home?”

You turned around to see the woman in white that Sam and Dean had told you about, the first hunt they went on that started them on this journey together. She whipped her hand out and you went flying towards a nearby dumpster and some boxes.

You took a moment to breath and saw the woman walking towards Belphegor, ready to attack him. The demon backed away, still carrying the heart.

“O-Oh, hey. Look, okay?” He stammered, putting his hand out in front of him.

“Bad ghost! Bad!”

She once again swiped her hand at his lifted hand and created deep scratches into his palm. He winced at the pain and held his hurt hand close to his chest.

Just as the woman was about to pounce on him, you quickly grabbed an iron pole from the boxes and swung at the ghost with all your might. She disappeared right away but you knew she would be back.

“Bel, spell, now. Let's get the salt.”

After running back to grab the salt you had left in the alleyway, you grabbed it and poured it all into a large pile in the middle of the now deserted street. Belphegor then set the dead man’s heart in the center of the salt.

“We good?” You asked.

“We’re good.”

He stood firmly and began to chant the spell. 

“Animi...infernorum...spiritus abyssi surrecti...defigo...vos intra confinia. Vinciamni!”

As the salt and heart began to glow red, Belphegor set his hand firmly into the street in front of the ingredients. A powerful wave washed over the whole town then everything went back to being quiet once more.

-

After meeting up with the boys, along with a mom and her young daughter, you all rode back into the high school to drop off the little family. There wasn’t enough space in the backseat of the impala so you kind of just ended up sitting on top of Belphegor’s lap.

Dean stopped the car in a parking spot and him, along with his brother, turned to face the five of you in the back.

“So, what now?” The mother asked.

“Okay. You two go inside. We'll take care of the town.” Sam told them.

“And maybe don't tell anybody about the whole ghost thing.” Dean added.

“Or the angel thing.” Cas said, looking towards the girl and her mom.

“Yeah, that... that might freak them out.”

Belphegor scoffed from beneath you. “Uh, might?”

You elbowed the demon in the stomach, causing him to groan in pain. You then smiled softly towards the two.

“You’ll be okay, stay safe, alright?”

The mother and daughter left the car and you finally were able to get off of Bel’s lap. It was pretty uncomfortable for you but obviously, Belphegor had enjoyed every bit of it.

Dean drove off to the middle of the parking lot and stepped out of the car, everyone already had gotten off as well. He walked up to you standing next to Belphegor.

“Good to know that the spell worked. He cause any trouble?” Dean questioned, nodding towards the demon who just waved at him.

You looked at Bel then back to the tall man and shook your head.

“No. No, not really. Surprisingly, Bel is pretty okay for a demon. He can’t replace...”You stopped for a moment. Then you remembered the kiss in the alleyway, feeling guilty. “He didn’t cause any trouble. We’re fine.”

Dean looked suspiously between you and Belphegor but nodded and walked over to Cas. You turned over to the demon who was leaning against Baby.

“Bel, what happened in the alleyway...that can’t happen again. I-I mean, I just lost Jack and I can’t-”

Belphegor interrupted you before you could continue.

“Calm yourself, sweetheart. What happened in the alleyway can be our little secret, all right?” He raised his eyebrow in a sly manner, making you slightly giggle, something you haven’t done in a while.

“Our secret.”

You saw his left hand and remembered how the woman in white did some damage to it. You held your hand out so you could take a closer look at it.

“Let me look at your wound.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been through worse.”

“Don’t care. Give me your hand.” You persisted.

Belphegor sighed and lifted his hand to allow you to grab it. You looked over the three deep scratches in his palm and bit your lip in slight disgust. You dropped his hand.

“Let’s clean that up.”

You grabbed some supplies from the Winchester brothers since they were fixing up Sam’s almost infected bullet wound. Taking a piece of bandage, you cleaned up Bel’s scars then wrapped his hand.

“You really care about me, don’t you?” He teased, cockily.

You scoffed.

“You’re in Jack’s body, I don’t anything happening to yo- it. You’re still a body stealing black-eyed bitch, Bel.”

-

A/N: Oh my god, it’s like 7am and I have been up working on this since 1am. I really need food and sleep. Stay safe, loves!

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my Supernatural stories!

Someone messaged me and asked me if I could tag them but I completely forgot who so whoever messaged me, please do it again so I can add you!

TAGGED:

@shortwinchester​

@coltcas​

@urlaslongasafalloutboysongtitle​

[queerchoicesblog]

An Unexpected Turn of Events

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapter: The Understudy

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

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A couple of days later I go back to Melchiorri for another session as planned. He is inflexible that I allow my voice to rest at least one day before practising again not to damage it. As I observe the streets of Vienna passing by from my carriage, I wonder if the little fugitive will visit us today too and a tiny smile crosses my lips. I should be bothered by such unprofessionalism but surprisingly I enjoyed the interruption. A private comedic enteract. It also reminded me the maestro is human: I stole a glance of the domestic, family life people like me is generally unfamiliar with. I don't plan to marry anytime soon honestly if I can avoid it, despite what my Aunt claims. I owe her and my uncle, the wealthy side of my family, everything. She brought me away from the small town by the Alps I lived with Mom, Dad and Hans, my little brother in a wooden cottage by a stream. We weren't indigents, we owned a small typography in town that mainly served the local journal of the valley and well, the church crafting the prayer books you would find on the bench every day at mass. We weren't rich with either: you don't exactly became high socialite with so little. Hans is now running the typography as my father's eyes are not the ones he used to have since he got sick. I don't envy my poor brother; I am glad I got my way out of that life. I am eternally grateful to Auntie Helga for insisting to drag me to Graz and deciding to turn me into a star of the opera after hearing me perform a solo in the church choir during one of her - not so frequent, actually - visits.

Auntie built her fortune over a good marriage with a promising young lawyer who couldn't resist her charm and eventually allowed her to live in sober luxury and even be invited to court. But that seemed to be her sole aspiration in life: she left the small town and never looked back. I am an opera singer, I want more. My career comes first and I have yet to meet a worthy match honestly. And no, I don't want to be a puppet, a doll to a man who will eventually ask me to leave the stage and my beloved arias to look after a child or be a proper wife, whatever it means. So, no, thanks, I chuckle in my head while taking the hand the driver offer me to get off the carriage. When I knock at the door, I am considering that maybe Herr Giorgio is not that bad, even if I didn't like the way he addressed the maid and the poor naughty boy. Nor the lusty looks he throws me. The maid welcomes me with a smile and a little reverence. Good girl, probably she expects me to chastise her too. As if I had any intention to do so! She takes my fur and quickly disappear into the wardrobe room before walking back towardsme. I thank her for her zeal but I know the way to the music room, the maestro is surely waiting for me, I say. I start walking but what she says next makes me freeze, confused. "Actually, Miss...the master is not here today. I'm very sorry. His wife is waiting for you in the tea room". What? That...that must be a joke. The maestro hired to prepare me last minute disappears before the official rehearsals. I turn and throw a bad look at the poor maid, who doesn't deserve it in the least. She's just a messenger, her eyes beg before lowering them to her feet. She's right, my anger is all for Mister Melchiorri. What do I do now? "Whatever, lead the way then" I exclaim, following her. "I can't wait to hear what the fair lady has to say about this". My voice is cold, sardonic; the girl doesn't say a single word while we walk in the opposite direction than my usual route in the house. She's certainly too afraid to dare say a thing. When we finally arrive to the right room, she knocks politely at the door and steps in when a female voice comes from the inside. She bows her head and announces my presence before disappearing back down the corridor. She stops only to let the door open for me. I let out an annoyed sigh and enter. The room is significantly different from the maestro's studio. No instruments, only paintings at the walls and fresh flowers on the little tables around the room. The perfume is delicate and inebriating: are they orchids, I wonder? A neat wooden library holds the place of honour on the main wall, opposite the fireplace and framed by windows that fills the whole room by natural light, even if the sun doesn't shine today: it will probably rain soon. Letting my eyes wonder outside I spot green and a carousel: I didn't realise we were so close to a park! Unlike the music room, here even if the furniture, the velvet armchairs, the Persian rugs, every decor are certainly expensive, the atmosphere is surprisingly...cozy, an adjective I would have never thought of associated with Melchiorri's place. It's almost inviting, calming? "Miss Bauer, I am so incredibly sorry for the the latest developments and all the trouble they must bring on you...but please, take a seat! Franziska will be back soon with fresh tea". I turn to see a woman gesturing me to join her by the fireplace. Her German has a thick Italian accent which gives her "a bit of exotic" as they say at court. She doesn't wear a wig, her long raven hair are done up in an elaborate grateful chignon and two curly strands frame her visage. She reminds me one of those shepherdesses portrayed in bucolic frescos at the Emperor's Palace. Her dress is not in character though: a plain, cerulean dress which is not necessarily cheap but does nothing to enhance her figure. Poor taste probably: even money can do little about it sometimes. She must be in her early thirties or so I wager and thinner than most ladies I know in her standing...I wonder why Melchiorri chose her if he's so clearly fond of female curves. Maybe it's another arranged loveless marriage. I wouldn't be surprised. I oblige and thank her politely, forgetting my anger for a moment. It surprises me, it must be a reflex, a natural response the soothing silky voice of the lady. Like the feral beasts tamed by the gentle melody of Orpheus' song, I think trying to shake away such thought. I suddenly realise that I don't know her name. Melchiorri never talked about her. But I don't want to tell her: it's not a nice thing to say to a wife, right? As if reading my thoughts, she shakes her head slightly embarassed. "I forgot my manners, didn't I?" she sighs. "You must forgive me, Miss, I do not receive many visitors lately and I've never been introduced to famous opera singers...nor any of my husband's pupils. My name is Cecilia, Cecilia Melchiorri". I feel a pang of sadness for this lady excluded from the theatre world his husband works in. I don't get why she has to be cast out like that. I've met other illustrious wives at social gatherings around Vienna or at court. I offer her my hand, gesturing no apologies are needed, and repeat her name. "Cecilia...". Sadly, I completely butcher it: I studied Italian for the opera but my Austrian tongue is still incapable to recreate the sweet sounds that comes so natural to her. It must not be the first time because her lips curl in a quick understanding smile. "You can call me Lia, if it's easier for you. My family used to call me so". Lia...what a pretty little name. I smile, grateful. "I will then, if you don't mind...Lia. You can call me Constanze: it seems only fair". "As you wish, Miss Bauer!" she says before realising her mistake. We share an amused look, even if hers is a bit more bashful. In that moment, after another polite knock, Franziska returns with the tea and some butter biscuits. They're different from the ones Mister Melchiorri usually offers me in his studio. She's serving the tea when a familiar figure materialises on the threshold of the room at my peripheral. Lia is giving him the shoulders so she can't see him. I turn in his direction with a smirk. "I believe we've already met, right, Sir?" The two women turn at unison too and the kid childishly hides his face but doesn't move. After a moment he spies us through his fingers and retrieves his hands, smiling. Franziska puts the tray underneath her arm and tells Lia that she will bring him to his room, making the boy pout. He's quite the character. "Maybe he followed you because he just wants a biscuit" I say, my eyes wandering between them to check if I'm overstepping. "Maybe you're right...but only if he doesn't bother you" Melchiorri's wife concedes with a tired smile. I shake my head and take the decorated plate in my hands. "Would you like one?" I ask in Italian to her son, not sure if he speaks proper German. His face brightens up and he nods enthusiastically. We share a soft laugh, even the maid joins. He gets ready to speed across the room when he stops, considering. He searches his mother for approval. Lia nods, asking to behave like a good boy though. So he approaches slower than he wanted, with great effort to refrain himself, and grabs a biscuit from the plate. Before taking a generous bite, he mutters a quick thank you. "Mystery solved" I comment, placing the plate back on the table. "You must excuse him, Miss Ba- Constanze" Lia say, gently pulling him closer. "Nino is not a bad kid, just a bit of a rascal at times". "A rascal with a sweet tooth" Franziska adds and we share another laughter. "I'm so sorry he interrupted your private session the other day. Franziska had quite a fair share of work to do and I was indisposed in my room, I couldn't look after him as I usually do". I dismiss her apologies, taking a sip of tea. "But it was fun, wasn't it?" I wink at Nino who chuckles. "Yes and she sings very well, Ma" he says, turning to his mother. "Of course, I heard her too from my room" she smiles. "She's a promise of the opera, it's written on the newspapers". "Sing again?" the little boy begs, expectantly. His childish enthusiasm amuses me. "I cannot do those trills now, I need to warm up my voice first" I apologise, before winking. "Another time, I promise". Lia whispers something into his ear and he thanks me, concealing his disappointment. Crumbs are stuck on his lips and make the smile that follows a bit funnier than it was supposed to be. "Now, sweetheart, why don't you follow Franziska back to the kitchen?" She says, stroking his curls. "Take another biscuit and she will give you a glass of milk, just as you like it, huh?". She doesn't have to say it twice: while the maid gently places and arm around his shoulders, guiding him away, he takes not one but two biscuits in his hands. He throws me a conspiratorial look before chuckling. Then he turns towards Lia and stretches his neck to kiss her cheek. She caresses his face and tells him to be good with Franziska. When the two of them are out of the room, she meets my gaze again, shaking hear head. "Apologies, Miss...I sent Franziska to buy these for you this morning and he managed to put his eyes on them. He became obsessed". "Kids" I shrug, unbothered. I am pleasantly impressed that she had such a kind gesture towards me. I mean it could be a way to get on my good side because of the news she has to give me...but after all, this situation is not her fault. Her husband left her to deal with this and me all alone. She turns serious and sighs. "Anyway, have you heard of the flooding near Salzburg?". "What?". "Torrential rain lead to conspicuous floodings in the area surrounding Salzburg. I don't know if Giorgio mentioned it to you but he head there after your session for a family emergency....his brother lives there". "I'm afraid he didn't say a thing about his little journey" I say, trying my hardest not to look angered, even if I am: I would have rather be informed sooner of such details. By the look on her face I can tell she expected such an answer. "He surely thought he would be back in time today, he didn't mention staying for long. But during the night the weather deteriorated and the roads are pretty much impracticable, so to speak. We've just received a note saying he will be back as soon as travelling conditions are restored and the emergency solved. Probably a couple of days...maybe more? He must have sent you a similar one, you just missed it because you were on your way here already". "A couple of days? Maybe more?" I exclaim. That's not promising... "The rehearsals start in a week" I frown. "I still need to practise...". "You are free to do it here if you wish, Miss" she suggests, apologetic yet encouraging. "I am perfectly aware this is a hideous setback for you with such a tight schedule. You must believe me when I say I wish we never put you in this situation...if there's anything I can do, Miss, ask away. I'm not my husband but...". I consider her words for a moment. My mind runs wild to find a solution for this unexpected unfavourable circumstance. I could find another maestro maybe but how, within such a short notice and little time before official rehearsals begin? I could do it on my own but another sudden foolish idea crosses my mind. "Do you play the cello, Mrs. Lia?" I must have taken her by surprise by the look on her face. She tries to conceal it, refilling her cup. "Why, yes. My father was a musician, I took cello classes in my youth but I don't see how this-". "Excellent! Then you can take your husband's place until the he’s back" I exclaim, cutting her short. My words must come as a shock: she almost spits her tea. "Beg pardon, Miss?". "You will be my maestro, well understudy maestro for the time being" I smile, explaining. "You said yourself that you can play the cello, you can assist me as I practice". "But...but I don't have my husband expertise" she objects, at loss of words. "You heard me practicing with your husband, right? So you must know how it should sound. And that aside, you can even tell yourself if my performance is good or not: you have ears too, if I am not mistaken". She opens her mouth to say something, anything to make me change my mind and spare her such thing...but nothing comes. Her lips presses together for a moment before she places her cup back on the table. "Very well, then...if you think it would work" she smiles weakly. "Just be patient with me: I do not usually play opera arias".

[ask-de-writer]

THE HOUSE, (part 3 of 3), a tale of Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

THE HOUSE

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7357 words

© 2017

Written 1990

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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I was still curious about the rest of the file in the town library, so I decided to take a break and go into town. As I stepped out the front door, I felt the wind. The trees along the road were still, yet I was buffeted from all sides at once by a wind that did not swirl but pressed my clothes tight to me from all sides at once. I felt more like I was being held comfortably than pushed like a wind usually would. It was warm, where the day and been chill. When I got into the car I left the door open to see what would happen. The wind closed it. This time there was a perceptible pause before the glove box opened.

When it did, a rush of wind gusted out and raced about inside the car. Once again, there were five of the odd gold coins within it. As before, I thanked whatever Power had put them there. Though brisk, the day seemed clear enough to risk the walk into town after all, so I got out of the car strolled down the road to town. Having everything that I needed within walking distance was one of the reasons that I liked the small town of Flocking Bay so much.

The Flocking Bay Bank of Maine was my next stop. I had some difficulty getting them to accept the coins for credit to my account. They insisted on a slate test by a local jeweler to ascertain the purity of the coins. They were twenty four carat. Then they wanted to take the coins at current spot price less ten percent, which was fine with me. They also wanted to count the coins at three to the troy ounce, as Hiram Wickes had counted them in the 1850’s and 60’s, which was not. I insisted that the same jeweler weigh the nine coins that I was depositing. With gold at nearly four hundred dollars to the ounce, the six tenths of an ounce per coin seemed worth the effort. The business was finally done to the satisfaction of all.

My steps now lead me down aged, tree lined streets to the library. Mrs. Alderman had set out the file in readiness for me. I added the tenth coin and a notarized account of its origin and the number of coins to date.

“You have been so helpful, she said brightly, “setting things in order the way you have. Do you know, I’ve been studying some, after hours. I hope that you will have a great book.”

“Mrs. Alderman,” I said in a confidential tone, “I’ve allowed you to deceive yourself. See, I too, put something in your file. I’m not a writer. I’m John Peaslee. I live in the old Wickes place, and I wanted to find out about its history.

My uncle, Gordon Wetherbee, is a scholar at Miskatonic University and he may indeed wish to publish a book or monograph on the subject of my house.”

She looked like a person seeing a ghost. In a faint voice, she replied, “Oh, my! I had hoped it was not you. You were such a nice young man, too.”

Noticing the past tense, I chided gently, “I still am, Mrs. Alderman. I live yet and I have not changed from the person that you first met. The nice young man who set your file in order is not dead.”

“Yet,” she said firmly. “Nobody as lives in that house does so for long. None has ever escaped it.”

“Yet,” I completed with a smile, and crossed the room to the battered pine table by the old mullioned window.

I had put the botanical report off until last, not knowing anything about plants. The report described in dry detail what were called “some of the most unusual genetic monsters that I have ever seen.” The report was issued by Miskatonic University. It described roses that were nothing of the sort. The “rose” plants were carnivorous. There were low pansy and violet-like plants that were some strange form of thallophyte. The mycelium of these fungi was linked in some fashion to the roots of the “roses.” Both forms died instantly upon being plucked and began rotting with almost supernatural speed. No pressings were possible due to the rapidity of decomposition, so only photos and rapidly drawn pictures of what was seen by microscope were included. The grass was as unusual as the “pansies” and “roses.” The leaves all rose from rhizomes, which spread from a central node, like some ferns. This “grass” was no fern, however. None of the plants could be cultivated away from the Wickes house. “The plants fit no known classification and must be regarded as unique to science,” the report concluded.

That evening the wind came again, and blew at my back all the way to the house, like a great friendly beast hurrying its master home. I had forgotten to buy batteries for my flashlight, but I did not turn back.

I resumed my search of the library. The evening passed uneventfully, I did not finish with the library that night. I was feeling restless.

So were the rats of the spectral brigade. I could hear a few upstairs but most were in the basement. Taking a candlestick, I worked the hidden spring of the concealed door to the basement. I could hear the rats below.

The stair was longer than I remembered it. The basement was larger than I recalled it being. The corners were dim in the candlelight. The spectral brigade was upstairs, of course. Still no dust or spider webs. I nearly dropped the candle in shock when I saw it. There was a table in the corner. I knew that the basement had been empty. Bare stone.

My curiosity led me cautiously to the table. It had on it a candlestick with a burned-out stub of candle, a box of papers, and six largish portfolios of leather, each labeled with the name of a continent. They also were filled with papers. A cursory examination revealed that I had found Hiram’s correspondence. There was a lot of it. It was clear that he had the habit of making copies of his missives and attaching the replies to the letters for easy reference. He may have been messy but his mind had been well organized. Taking the folder marked Australia because it was the smallest, I went back up the stairs. I placed the folio on the desk in the study to read by tomorrow̓s daylight. In checking my calendar, I noticed that tomorrow was the day of the new moon.

Bed was welcome, after the tension and labors of the day, but not a relief. My night passed in troubled dreams. It was a place of incomprehensible, invisible obstacles and wind. The wind blew at me from all directions at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. Resisting the wind caused it to go away. It came back with gold for me. As I refused the gold, my frustration mounted. It was not what I wanted. My tears spilt forth in a flood. I wanted something else - and I could not remember what.

The morning light awakened me on sweat-drenched sheets. Slowly, as dreams will, the terrors faded. I got up and began my day.

As I had begun to expect, the books did not materialize. None of the books in the library was a rebound Necronomicon or Black Book. I reshelved the last book with a sigh. The precious books appeared have eluded me.

I turned my attention to the Australia folder. Its pages yielding information for the first time in about a hundred and twenty years. Apparently, Hiram had a number of correspondents in Australia. His questions ranged from searches for rumored ‘houses of stone’ in the outback to tracing the aboriginal folk carvings and paintings and asking about the most secret rituals and ceremonies of the aboriginal Australians. His questions, piercing and analytical, illuminated every subject with stark clarity, like flashes of lightning. He had known exactly what he was looking for and was not at all afraid of finding it.

Now, with the day beginning to close, there came a knock at my door. Opening the door revealed a postman with a bulky Next Day Letter envelope. Signing for it, I noticed that it was from Miskatonic University. Uncle Gordon had responded almost the instant that he had received my letter, and by the fastest possible post. Impressed, I opened the flap of the letter. A single sheet was all that the large envelope held. Uncle Gordon̓s hasty scrawl read:

Dear John:

It is with simple horror that I have read that you have purchased the house of Hiram Wickes. Delay not an instant! Get out of that house! Leave before the new moon! I pray that this reaches you in time!

Come to me in Arkham! There, I will tell you all that I know of this matter. I hope that you are still alive and well and will come to hear my reasons for so urgent a request.

You are involved with Powers beyond imagination. Things there are that are worse than even what is in the Necronomicon. Hastur, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, is involved, and Cuthulu, as well, whose coin you sent a tracing of.

This must sound mad to you. A very hodgepodge of fear. And it is. Fear for you. Come to me at once! Upon your life it is necessary!

In regard and fear for your life,

I remain,

Gordon Wetherbee

It was remarkable. I had never seen evidence of such agitation from uncle Gordon before. This, along with all that I had learned, made up my mind. I would take his advice. Packing my few clothes took almost no time. Seeing the Australia folder, I realized how important Hiram’s letters could be to uncle Gordon. I placed it with my bag, by the front door.

I raced to the library, took up a candlestick and plunged down the long flight of stairs to that huge gloomy vault of a basement. As I gathered the box and folders into my arms, I saw them at last! Among others, the Necronomicon and Black Book had been hidden behind the letter portfolios. Putting down the letters in the face of a far greater treasure, I examined the precious books. There was what had to be the only complete 1784 edition of the Necronomicon. Priceless. Also, there was the almost as rare 1635 edition of the Black Book. There was an apparently genuine medieval Latin Philippus Faber. Last was a hand-bound copy of a manuscript, written on a fine supple parchment of a type that I could not identify, labeled in Hiram’s now familiar script, Pnakotic Manuscripts, subtitled, “Being a Collection of Ante-human Lore.” The writing in this last volume was of a sort that I had never seen before. It was disturbing just to look at. The very notion of actually reading it made me shudder.

Knowing that I should not tarry, I placed the books with my other burdens and gathered them up. There was a sudden rushing of wind from all sides at once, forcing me away in a direction that was not a direction. The candle in my hand burned bright and unwavering, despite the wind. It did not blow out.

In a blind panic, I ran up the long, crumbling, dusty, spider-bedecked stair. I found myself back in the basement. I no longer had my load of letters and books. Two more attempts to go up the stairs left me still in the vast, dusty crypt of a basement… Raising the candle high, I looked intently up the stair, trying to see why I could not get to the top. After a few minutes, or perhaps hours, I got my eyes to work properly and the nausea stopped. The stairs offered no escape.

In searching for a way out of this vast stone lined vault of a basement, I found all of the fifty nine other people who had vanished. They are all dead. They have dried to sere brown mummies. Many still show signs of bleeding from eyes, nose or ears, as if their brains had burst within their skulls. It seems that transport to wherever this is, killed the others outright. Some were in bed, others at table, some at other tasks. Each family or person seems to have their own area. The next group is in a different spot. It helps me to sort them out. All of my goods are by the stair.

Examining the bodies so closely may seem to be a ghoulish exercise but it gives me something to do.

I do not need the candle. There is a pale sourceless illumination everywhere. Dust is thick on the floor and everything else. Cobwebs shroud everything.

There, in the corner lies what was Hiram Wickes. The notes and papers with him tell the story. Unable to stand his own mess, he had the house cleaned attic to basement. The yard was manicured to perfection. He then made the simple blunder that has cost so many lives and so much misery.

He bound Hastur of the Winds, Whose Name Must Not be Uttered, to keep his house and grounds exactly as it was on that day in 1866. Every new moon, everything that does not fit goes to the basement but that too gets cleaned. Hastur has no choice but to sweep the excess to someplace else…

I am lucky. I have the opportunity to starve. I was in the basement when the cleaning came. I was pushed through a distance too short to kill. The unvarying light seems to erase time, except that I am getting hungry.

Uncle Gordon has solved many occult mysteries and seems to know something of this one. I know that he will come soon. I wonder if he can do anything.

I found a pen among my things and paper from the possessions of the many dead. I have determined to make this account.

I leave my curse on Flocking Bay Realty. They knew that this would happen. They have sold the house many times, without warning. They have been battening on this evil since 1908.

I have found the rats. They are everywhere here. They do not touch the bodies or Hiram’s books and papers. They are disgusting. If I get hungry enough, I shall eat them.

-THE END-

<==Previous

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

[thatesqcrush]

First Time Hijinks

Harvard! Rafael Barba x Reader. Using two prompts from here: # 6. “I wasn’t expecting it to be… THAT big.” and #28: Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.” as requested by @garturbo - companion piece to Study Buddies, found here.

AN: To avoid any squick, I am placing Rafael/reader in their early 20s.

CW: language, making out/suggested language. 

Word count: 1827

Tags: @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @niyashell @tropes-and-tales - anyone else just ask.

“So, is today the day?” your roommate Sheila asked you, as she grabbed her books. As she shoved the books in her bookbag, she looked over at you. You looked at her quizzically.  “You know! You and Rafael...” she clicked her tongue while giving you a playful nudge. “I don’t know. I hope so. We’ve been taking things slow,” you replied, as you shrugged on your Harvard sweatshirt. “I am about to combust if I had to be completely truthful. He’s so...! One look with those green eyes and I want to melt.” “Make the move! He’d be nuts to turn you down,” Sheila replied, grabbing a water bottle. “You know my folks are coming into town tonight and I am going home for the weekend. So you’ll have the whole room to yourself.” You nodded as you pulled your hair into a ponytail. “Okay; we’ll see.” *** Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you approached your boyfriend who was sitting against a tree in the main quad. His nose was deep in Legal Ethics, a highlighter hanging off his mouth. “Hey there stranger,” you greeted. Rafael looked up at you and his green eyes lit up at the sight of you. He dropped his book, and put the cap on his highlighter so he could stand. He tossed the highlighter to the grass. “Hey,” Rafael acknowledged. He pulled you in for a chaste kiss on the lips. You looked up at him, and smoothed his hair which was tussled, likely due to him running his hands through his hair when he was stressed, which for him, was often. Your hand grazed his cheek and you ran your thumb against it, stroking it softly. Rafael closed his eyes and turned his face into your palm, pressing a kiss into it. Smiling, you pulled away so that you could walk past Rafael and sit on the blanket he had been sitting on. “How goes the studying?” You asked as you opened your own books. Rafael sighed, frustrated. “It’s going.” He sat next to you and the two of you began to do your work. “We look like an old married couple,” you murmured as you reached for your glasses in your bag and slipped them on. Rafael pressed a kiss to the top of your head, chuckling. An hour later, your eyes were beginning to glaze over from reading and re-reading your notes for your upcoming quiz. Rafael was still in deep thought, and you watched him cross reference his notes with the textbook. Looking around to make sure no eyes were on you, you cuddled closer to Rafael and raised the bottom half of the blanket so that it covered you. “Cold?” Rafael asked, still engrossed in his work. “Something like that,” you purred, remembering your roommate’s advice. You slipped your hand to the front of Rafael’s jeans, and rubbed. Rafael shifted and looked at you, his eyebrow raised. You could feel him harden your palm, so you continued your ministrations. “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that,” Rafael coughed, shifting once more. “Well, why don’t we go back to my dorm, and we can finish there? Sheila’s gone for the weekend.” You moved your hand and Rafael bit the inside of his cheek at the loss of contact. Rafael let out a deep breath. He looked at you intently, “Are you sure?” You nodded. “Never more sure.” Rafael pressed a kiss to your lips. “Then tonight. I really need to finish this though.” Seeing your crestfallen face, he added for good measure, “I want our first time to be special; not rushed. Plus you have a quiz to take in 10 minutes. You pressed another kiss to his lips and then gazed at your watch. “Shit, you’re right. I have to get to class. I’ll see you tonight. Wish me luck.” You both said your goodbyes. Rafael watched you take off. He had a nervous knot in his belly. The last person he had been with was Yelina right after graduation. Alex’s family had thrown a graduation party for Los Tres Mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue. They all got drunk on peppermint Schnapps and Coronas. Yelina led Rafael to the bathroom and against the sink, among the shampoo bottles and mouthwash is how he lost his virginity. On and off, the summer leading to college, they continued but once Rafael left for Harvard, Yelina had no further interest in pursuing anything. All Yelina had done was criticize him. The one saving grace, in his own personal opinion, was that he happened to be well endowed. And now, Y/N, his wonderful girlfriend wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Rafael ran his hands through his hair, stressed. He was your stereotypical broke college student without two pots to piss in, at Harvard on a full ride. “How on Earth,” he wondered, “...am I going to make it special?” Sighing, he found he couldn’t concentrate any further. Initially he decided to head back down to his room, but then he decided to take a detour to off campus. He was going to make tonight special, regardless of whatever Yelina thought of him. *** You sighed, as you swiped your key card to your dorm. Your final year meant tons of seminars, each class longer than last. You had gone to Rafael’s room but your knocks went answered. You assumed that your boyfriend was busy at the library. You were tempted to find him and distract him, but you didn’t dare. You knew for Rafael, his studies were important. So imagine your surprise when you walked in to your room and found your boyfriend sitting in the common room, with flowers in hand. “Rafi? What’s going on?” you questioned. “I - I hope you don’t mind. You said I could use your key code anytime,” Rafael replied. You look at the room, there was at least two other bouquets set up. And candles. Lots of them. “Of course not. Wait, what’s going on? I thought you’d be at the library,” you continued shutting the door behind you. You dropped your shoulder bag to the floor and placed your ID on the top of the mini fridge. “Earlier, I thought you wanted to... so I...” Rafael sputtered, his cheeks flushing. You smiled brightly. “That’s right.” You approached Rafael, placing your hands on his chest. “I did. And I do.” You sealed the distance between your bodies and pressed a kiss to him. The kiss was hesitant at first, but grew with intensity. Rafael reached down to grab your butt, squeezing tightly. You groaned and pressed into Rafael. As Rafael began to kiss down your neck, you realized something smelled awful. You pushed Rafael away. “Do you smell something?” Rafael crinkled his nose, and covered his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I do...” He searched the room with eyes, until he noticed the source of the offending smell. “The candle!” he shouted. One of the candles was just a little too close to wall hanging, which started to catch on fire. Before either of you could react, the alarm signaled and the overhead sprinkler system went off. You both yelped as water came down from overhead. Rafael climbed onto your desk and reached up to turn off the knob. By the time it was off, the door had swung open and you found yourself staring face to face with your RA and a public safety officer - they were both less than pleased. *** You and Rafael were both written up and you were on the hook to pay for any damages incurred. Luckily there were nothing major, just a damp carpet and some wet textbooks that would eventually air and dry out. Rafael sat on your now damp bed, his head in his hands. “I just wanted to make tonight special for us.” You sat next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Oh Rafi, I know. But, it will be special because it’s us.” You looked up and gave him a sympathetic smile. Rafael looked down at you and smiled. “You’re absolutely right.” “Of course I am,” you teased. “Obviously,” you added for good measure, rolling your eyes. You stood up and grabbed clothes from your drawer. “Let me change and lets get out of here.” Rafael nodded and watched as you stripped off your soaked clothes. He swallowed hard as he took in your semi-nude form. You caught him staring in the mirror that hung off your door and you smirked. “See something you like?” you turned, slipping on your jeans, slightly bouncing as you did so, as you shimmied them on. You thought it was absolutely endearing how Rafael’s ears turned pink. “Yes,” Rafael quipped in return. “Very much so.” “Then lets get out of here.” You pulled Rafael up and the two of you headed to his room. *** You groaned as Rafael sucked on the hollow of your neck. Rafael gently leaned you back so you were laying on his bed. He pulled back up, his arms outstretched on your sides. Rafael looked down upon you, your hair had fanned around you, creating an almost halo like effect. Your lips were parted, slightly swollen from your make out session. Rafael’s gaze moved further south towards your rib cage, which expanded and deflated with each breath. You breasts were encased in a soft pink bra and Rafael was eager to see the flesh the encased. His erection strained painfully against his jeans. He went to kiss you once more, but Yelina’s words rang in his ear. You noticed Rafael’s hesitation and could see something was worrying him. You pushed yourself so you were sitting up, leaning on your elbows. “Rafi, what is going on? Are you okay?” Rafael sighed, before proceeding to spill everything about Yelina. You sat fully up and drew your knees to your chest, listening to Rafael intently. By the time Rafael finished pouring his heart, he felt deflated - both physically and emotionally. Your eyes narrowed. “Whoever this Yelina chick is, she can go fuck right off,” you replied sternly. “She should be so lucky that I haven’t met her. She is missing out on someone so wonderful! Better for me,” you finished with a chuckle. But then, you softened, and reached for Rafael’s hand. “Rafael, I am not that experienced either. We will figure out a rhythm, so to speak.” Rafael gave your hand a squeeze. “Are you sure you want to do this? No pressure, I promise.” He searched your eyes for any hesitation. You pushed Rafael back, and climbed over him. Reaching behind, you unhooked your bra and flung it to the floor. “What do you think?” *** You stroked Rafael’s chest hair, as you laid on his chest, listening to his thumping heart. Both of you were sweaty and out of breath, from your intimate actions. “That was... wow,” Rafael managed to get out between breaths. You nodded. “Yes. Yes it was. But, can I just say, I wasn’t expecting it to be… THAT big.” Rafael moved so he was sitting up, propped on his side. “Are you complaining?” His hand ghosted over your abdomen and you could feel your skin prickle. You smiled and wrapped your arm around Rafael’s neck, simultaneously pulling him down while you leaned up to kiss him.

FIN

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7,

Chapter 8 "Easy, son. We'll take this one step at a time. Just watch were yer walkin'," Daniel said to his son as they carried a wagon wheel over to the craftsman shed. "I'm fine, father. It would take quite a lot for my wounds to spring any leaks."

"That's what they all say until it happens. Exercise is good for mendin' the body. But the way you abuse yours, those wounds might not ever heal properly."

Kaleb helped his father hoist the massive wheel onto the augur then placed a securing pin through the vertical spindle. He looked over the array of tools then picked up one of the rawhide mallets and began vigorously tapping some wooden pegs into place.

"I'm just trying to get back into the fight, that's all. Once this thing heals, I'll be good as new," he said while pointing his thumb towards his back.

His father just shook his head and scoffed. "No question where you get your tenacity from, that's for sure."

"Hey. Once I'm done here, I would very much like to head on over to see Ulfgar. I haven't seen that old norn since before my deployment."

"He'll be delighted to see ya of course. Go right on ahead, son. I'll take care of things from here."

The elder Grimwald waved for his son to leave just as the youngest member came rushing out from the back kitchen door.

"Kaaaleeeb!"

"Katie! Hi sweetheart." His youngest sister rushed up to him then gave him a big hug.

"My goodness. You have the strength of a bear. Did some norn kid slip some animal spirit ale in your drink?" Kaleb laughed as he spun his youngest sister around. Within seconds, he winced in pain forgetting that the war wound was still quite painful.

But in spite of his injuries, he made absolutely sure to hold onto Katie as he gently brought her down to the ground.

"Awww. Does it still hurt? You don't need to spin me around if it hurts you."

He knelt down to look her in the eyes. "You don't hurt me one bit. I'm just a big, dumb brother who sometimes forgets his own limits sometimes. Isn't that right dad?"

Daniel smiled and waved to his youngest daughter then beckoned for her to come to him.

"C'mon, darlin'. Wanna help me fix up a wagon?"

She nodded then ran off to greet her father. Kaleb headed back inside to get into some better attire.

Several things had changed in the Grimwald household since Kaleb was away. For one, their family was one of the first to have indoor plumbing with hot and cold running water. And secondly, Rachel was taking a serious interest in attending one of the Asuran colleges in Rata Sum.

The warm shower felt so relaxing against his skin. A days' worth of grit and grime all washed away in a matter of minutes plus he never had to leave the house.

Warmth. He missed that sensation when she held his hands those five months ago. Her smile, although not human, was enough to bring a glow to his heart. Those amber eyes... how he longed for a chance to stare into them more deeply.

Kaleb closed his eyes as the steaming water streamed down his face. He could see her feline form lying on the bed, grooming herself. His mind began to wander, imaging other possibilities.

How would it be possible?

He pondered as he could feel his manliness rise to its fullest potential.

How would we be able to...

"Kaaaleeb. How long are you going to be in the bathroom?"

"Ahhh! Wait! Hold on just a minute Katie. I've gotta get dressed."

Jeese! Can't a man be left alone for just five minutes to contemplate carnal thoughts?

***

Kaleb headed to his familiar haunt, the Jotun's Corpse. If there was anyone in town who had connections to getting in touch with Amalthia, it would be him.

As he walked through the doors and towards his favorite barstool, he was immediately greeted by the mountainous norn who gave him the biggest, but one of the gentlest, bear hugs he had ever experienced.

"Welcome back to the lodge, boy! If I didn't know better, I swear I was looking at another norn."

"It's good to see you too, Ulf. So what makes you say that?"

"My boy. Tales of your ferocious battle have reached all the way to this humble watering hole. Normally I reserve bragging rights for myself, but today is your day."

The old norn grabbed a large copper goblet and spoon then started rapping the base of the drinking vessel with all his might. Everyone immediately took notice as the thunderous echo of his voice resonated throughout the tavern.

"Here ye. Here ye! Good denizens of Claypool. A newly minted town legend has returned and is standing before you today in these very halls. Kaleb Grimwald, a boy whom I knew since he was a wolf pup, has returned from a great battle and I am here to tell everyone of his heroic deeds."

"For it was those many months ago that he, and four of his bravest comrades faced and army of thousands of ravenous centaurs who were bent upon their total destruction. Did they falter?" Ulfgar paused then inclined his ear to the audience.

"NOoo!" The patrons shouted in unison.

"Did they shirk their duties?"

"NOo!"

"Were they victorious?"

"YESss!"

Kaleb stood there looking like a midget, compared to the norn, and just smiled. He knew that Ulfgar's days of adventure were long behind him and being able to tell a vicarious tale helped the old norn return to his glory days.

After the highly embellished account was finished and the merrymaking festivities had subsided, Kaleb sat down on his ever-familiar stool then soaked up as many lagers as his body could handle. He waited for a break in the revelry before asking the shaman about how to get in touch with a certain someone.

The old norn could sense that Kaleb had a question to ask so he went over and waved for the patrons nearby to leave. With the two of them sitting side-by-side Ulfgar folded his massive arms and smiled.

"What's on your mind, lad? You've got that I've-got-a-favor look on your face."

Kaleb knew that whenever Ulfgar referred to him as 'lad' it was on a much more serious and heartfelt note.

"First, I wanted to thank you for boasting about my heroic tale. And second, the numbers were just a wee bit inflated. It was hundreds of centaurs, not thousands."

"Bah. Just numbers. The people here know of your deeds and that is what they appreciate the most. Anyway, what was it that you really wanted to tell me?"

Kaleb traced the top of his stein with his left index finger before downing a draught. "Our suppliers were a couple of charr. The owner's daughter was the one who saved our lives. I just wanted to get in touch with her."

"Charrs, eh? Give me names, boy. That would be a good start."

"Let's see. The daughter's name is Amalthia. She has no last name since she's a gladium. And her father's name is Ludrick Crushsomethingorother."

"Crushblow! Centurion Ludrick Crushblow of the Fifty-First Blood Legion Brigade. Now that's a name I haven't heard mentioned by anyone in ages."

"So you know him?"

"Know him. Boy, he and I used to hang out all the time back during our great hunts. Every other week back when I lived just outside Hoelbrak, we could get together at the local pub and exchange some amazing tales. He's a good soul, lad. Don't let his fearsome appearance deceive you. He will stand by those who have honorable hearts," Ulfgar smiled as he took another drink.

"He always seemed like a grumpy old charr to me. But then, I never really got a chance to know him on a personal level like I did his daughter."

"Is that so? Well, what I can tell you is that there is more to him then you can possibly imagine. But in time, and if you are patient, you will learn these things."

"I hope to be that patient. By the way, what do you know about his daughter Amalthia?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. She was sent off to a fahrar before I really had a chance to know her. What I do know is that she was exiled from her warband for being unable to save one of her bandmates. It was supposedly due to her small physical size. Her warband leader blamed her for the death of their comrades and cast her out when she was nineteen. She's been living with her sire ever since."

"What about her mother? Amalthia mentioned her several times and in a none-too-good light I might add."

Kaleb downed the rest of his stein.

"Siri Blastfuse. Now that's a dam who has a heart as cold as Jormag itself. My advice - never cross her path."

"That bad, huh? I do know that Amalthia mentioned her mother more than once when listing off the negative things that went on in her life. She must have been a real bitch."

"Aaww. Now don't go insulting wolves that way, boy. My mother was Wolf Clan."

Kaleb looked at him sheepishly. "My apologies. I think the lager is taking effect. But I understand if you are unable to get in touch with her."

"No worries, lad. I'll find a way of keeping you and her in contact with each other."

"Good. If you can, I have a letter here that I've already written to her. If you can find a way, I would really appreciate it if you could forward it to her."

Kaleb handed the old norn a sealed envelope.

Tucking it into his shirt pocket, Ulfgar responded. "Consider it done, lad."

Feeling the effects of the alcohol, Kaleb tried to steady himself as he got up from his stool.

"Oh. One other thing... where is the nearest library?"

For the first time in their many years of knowing each other, Ulfgar was completely dumbstruck by the question. He scratched his beard for a moment with his fingers while pondering the question.

"Only one I know of is at the center of town. Why are you needin' a library for anyway?"

"Um. Learning new cooking recipes for when I get back into the army?"

"I think you've had too many lagers, boy. Go home to your folks and sleep it off. I promise it will all be better in the morning."

[stragglewort]

Cure for Ildryn -- “A Meeting in the Twyllo”

        Picture by Library of Congress (https://www.loc.gov/) -- “ Fairy tales everyone should know,” (Little Red Riding Hood)

        The first sound to come back to her was the whisper of a crackling fire.

        After that came taste – there was something sweet and metallic on her tongue. After the realization of taste came sensation. She could finally feel again. Her hands came to and a heat spread over her skin on just one side. Battling with a mellow chill gusting from somewhere else in the home.

        “Oh, you’re finally awake.” That same harsh voice from before, now a bit mellow, echoed. The stranger came into the room as they spoke – ducking under a curtain-lined, crooked doorway they were nearly too tall for. They had rather broad shoulders but a slight, tucked waist. A face marked with streaking scars that wrapped their head, interrupting their blonde hair with irregular streaks. They were both very fine but very harsh all at the same time – between their face and their handwoven, nearly formless shawl – she couldn’t quite peg what they were. Human or otherwise.

        “…’scuse me?”

        “You went and poisoned yourself with a nice mouthful of Lulgar blood.” They sighed. “I can’t imagine that tasted pleasant.”

        “It didn’t.” She coughed. Moving to wipe her face she found her hands weren’t just asleep – they were bound. “I, uh. What is this?”

        “Those are ropes. I decided you’re going to sit there very calmly and kindly until you tell me why you’re here.”

        “Wait, why?”

        “Because the last thing to stumble into my home came here after my head.” They paused. “Or my soul. Maybe my hands – I don’t know. You fair-folk aren’t picky.” 

        “I can promise you I’m not here for your head, soul, or hands. I don’t even know who you are.”

        “I’d really love to believe you.” They sounded painfully genuine – a little sad, even. “But woe be us! I don’t.” They finished rather bluntly.

        Elyra paused for a second, the stranger had said something odd. “One moment – fair-folk like me?” She asked.

        “Or whatever you call yourselves.”

“Whatever we call –?” She said, her voice shot. “Now I believe you’re confused, the only fae here is you!”

        “Please don’t go insulting me.” The stranger ticked, pacing to her. They knelt and stared straight into her eyes – scanning – looking for some sign Elyra couldn’t place. “I’ve been here since I was a child and above the Lulgar worms, Brekin beasts and all the other blasted things out here – those fair-flying folks have been the one great nuisance.” Their face turned harsh for a moment before they sighed, letting go of the rant that boiled at the tip of their tongue.

        “You don’t say…?” The shock on Elyra’s face was blatant – enough that the even the stranger was surprised.

        “I can’t believe myself...” They mumbled, massaging their temples. “You’re really not from here, are you?”

        “The Fairlands? No, no – I’m not.”

        A short laugh escaped their lips. “Now I haven’t heard anyone call it that for some time. You’re good, you know that? Very convincing.”

        She didn’t take that as a compliment. “Look – please. I don’t have anything to hide - but I’m not saying a word until you let me go.”

        This spark of something lit up in the stranger’s light – vividly green eyes. “Would you consider a deal, then?”

        “…that would depend.” She bit her tongue.

        “If I offered your freedom for an explanation – would you consider it?”

        “…Possibly.”

        A look of relief washed itself over the stranger’s face. “Oh, now I know you’re not one of them. I’ve never seen a fair-folk pass up such an easy trick!” They started. “Alright, fine – let’s get those ropes off you.”

        The stranger sighed before they clapped their hands together – “Down.” They commanded. A faint light flickered from under their feet as the rope stiffened then untied itself, slithering off her wrists and coiling itself in a neat pile on the floor.

        “What in the – who are you?” Elyra stammered, pulling her hands to her chest.

        “Rionnach Hum; though I go about changing that every once in a while.”

        “Right.”

        “Now please – if you’d be so kind, I am very curious as to why you’ve come around here.”

        Elyra took a moment to think, trying to figure out how to best tell the story. “…Have you ever heard of Ildryn?”

        “The kingdom?”

        “Yes! Right on the border –“

        “Aye, aye – spires to the heavens, population the size of imagination itself – all very kindly and whimsical. Dreadful place. Why do you ask?”

        “Something happened.” Elyra paused – the words caught in her throat. “They’re dying – we thought it might’ve been the rats, maybe something with the crops. But something, something’s taken over and my people.” She paused. ”They’re getting killed like game.”

“…Like a dictator? Some kind of war?” Rionnach leaned in, listening to her speak. This flash of worry came over their face.

        “No. An illness.” She bit her lip, grit her teeth and took in a steadying breath. “No doctor, wise-man or scholar in the kingdom has any clue as to what’s happening – people started falling asleep, really asleep. They’d stay down for days and either come back completely catatonic or…”

        “Or?” They urged.

        “...They wouldn’t come back at all.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stifled back the bitter sobs. “I read something in a book some time ago. When I was a child there was this story about some plant, a berry I think – the Heilíðan.” Her eyes grew wide, this newfound glimmer in them. “There aren’t many poems written about it; believe me, I’ve searched! But what I did find went on about how Fyriauði – Death – gave us human’s something to… to –“

        “Hold it back.” Rionnach said, finishing the sentence for her.

        She nodded. “…’To die is waste, your soul is true’ – ‘Do keep my might away.’” Elyra recited, digging up some old poem from the back of her memory. “There isn’t any magic in Ildryn – the border was forced closed – there’s not supposed to be sight of monster or fae, let alone magic berries. But everything’s failed. We needed an alternative.”

        “So, you opened an illegal portal into the grand land of Tylwrnas, following an old-wives tale in hopes that you’ll find the plant and... what? Slice it into little pieces to share with the with the whole kingdom?” Their eyes narrowed. “Do you even know where to find this ‘Heilíðan’ you’ve come all this way for?”

        “I hoped that it grew in the forests. But I wasn’t holding my breath.” Elyra looked down at her wringing hands. “I know it sounds foolish, but there was just no other –“

        They interrupted her. “This whole plan – there’s no talking you out of it?”

        She sighed. “…Not a chance.”

        Rionnach laughed. A light, airy laugh she would’ve never guessed could come from such a serious person. “You’re right. It is quite foolish.”

 …

           “You really don’t need to come with.”

        “Normally? I wouldn’t.” They started, making their way through the crooked doorway, stepping out to the cool forest. “But I don’t normally meet children so keen to get themselves killed.”

         Now that she was up and walking around Elyra could see the hut Rionnach brought her to. It was a stout building, ramshackle and moss-covered. The windows, instead of glass, were covered with old branching vines. And twisted, winding chimney let off colorful smoke – putting a smell in the air she just couldn’t place.

        Rionnach looked over the young girl’s clothes. “Is that bag all you brought?”

        “It was all I could sneak across the border.” She said. “A bag and a cloak.” She paused. “Wait, where’s my cloak?” She’d used the thing as everything from a dress to a tent – a flag to a blanket. The last thing she wanted it to be was missing.  

        “Don’t worry, it’s in the pot.” Rionnach motioned to a cluttered fire pit; pointing to a boiling, bubbling cauldron propped over top of it. Rushing over, Elyra found her quilted cloak churning in a bath of boiling water.

        “Why on jörðinni would you boil my cloak?” She yelled from across the garden – looking for something to grab at the fabric with.  

        “That cloak was the only thing saved your skin from that Lulgar worm’s blood. I’m shocked it’s even held up – let alone stayed together enough to be cleaned!”

        Elyra thought for a moment while she pulled the fabric from the water with a short branch. “If you thought I was trying to kill, steal you, or take your hands – why did you bother?” She paused. “Better yet, why did you save me in the first place?”

        Rionnach’s harshly confident face faltered for just a moment. “Even I allow myself to be optimistic, sometimes.” They flashed the girl a short, wavered grin before spinning back around – rifling through a misshapen garden. “You seemed human, I had hope. And more selfishly I thought that we might help each other.”

        “Help each other how, exactly?” Elyra asked.

        “You seem kind. I’m sure death or enslavement by a horrifying beast would put a damper on your cause. And it just so happens that I’ve been trying to cross that grand, magical border you apparently know how to open.”

        She thought for a second “…And you know this land?”

        “I have a foggy idea.”

        Elyra laughed. “I have so many names, but I can’t deny I have no idea how to get to any of them.” She paused. “…And it wasn’t too difficult opening the barrier – I can’t see the harm in bringing someone else across.”

        A wash of relief came over Rionnach as a sigh escaped their lips. “That would be very kind. Let me pack and let’s work out where exactly you’re itching to go.” They tossed through leaves and herbs, grabbing the stem of some tap root and ripping it from the ground. They did this a few times – stuffing the roots into a sack. “These are Eernjn. They’ll keep us fed for some time if we cook them right.”

        “And if we don’t?”

        “Then we won’t have the need.”         

        “Oh.” She paused. “I’ll leave that to you, then.”

        They continued rustling about the yard, moving in and out of the house in a hurry. “This plant. I can’t think of a time when it grew in the wild but it certainly sounds like something the fair-folk might grow in their own gardens.”

        “Would you happen to know how to get into those gardens?”

        “Even if I wanted in, I doubt they’d ever let me.” They hummed. “ But you…?” They looked her up and down, really looking. “If I had my way, I’d suggest you’d forfeit trying to work with them all together. But I’m sure we could figure out a way. You’re small.”

        “A little rude.” She interrupted.

        “I mean it in the nicest way possible.” They stopped to think. “Now the fair-folk aren’t picky over who they let in and out of their kingdoms – we could get in. But without wings on our backs or tusks in our mouths we’re targets for all sorts of mischief. There’s a reason they never war against the hum. They’re too busy tricking us. Indebting.”

        “You seem very sure.”

        “I’ve lived here a long time.” They shook their head. “And I haven’t seen a living or free human in these parts since I settled myself. As wild as they are with their Lulgar worms and sprites – the fringes are safer for the likes of us than anywhere near civilized life.” Rionnach clapped their hands together, having collected a whole barrage of things. A large backpack they tied the sack of Eernjn to, some clothes, cloths and other things they’d picked up. A real adventurer’s kit.

        “So what did you have in mind – we’re in the Twyllo now, but I can find us a path into any of the forest from here to Moetrn Dru.”

        “I was hoping to find a city, actually – Pont Haf?”

        Rionnach let out an involuntary, pained groan. “Surely not.“

        “Surely so! In the stories I’ve read when Fyriauði created the Heilíðan, there was a battle over it between –

        “The Spring and Summer courts, yes. And those Summer folks won quite well.”

        “And their winning means they’re my best chance at finding what I’m looking for.”

        “Yes… I see that. I just – I don’t have a great reputation with any of the courts. But the Summer folk and I have never gotten along. And for good reason, they’re a terrible lot.”

        “What have you done?”

        Rionnach huffed. “It’s… a story.”

        “We have time.” Elyra chimed.

        “Probably not.” They shut her down, making some last leaving preparations in waving their hand – causing a soft glow to erupt from their feet and fingertips. Vines and roots climbed up the sides of their home, clinging to the frame of the door and blocking it, tightly. They hesitated, closing their eyes and stifling a series of quiet curses under their breath. “…We can certainly try – but the second we hit their gate we speak to no one, understood?”

        “Of course.” Elyra agreed, only half-genuinely.

[jensengirl83]

What He Lost

Dean x reader

Word count-2564

Warnings-Angst, a little fluff, character death?, mild language, implied smut

Summary- Dean thinks back on memories with the reader. Replaying what brought about the end of their relationship

A/N-Inspired by the song Call Me by Shinedown. No happy ending here today folks. Sorry not sorry lol

Another night that sleep eludes me, memories of you haunting my dreams. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that night, beg you to stay instead of driving you away. You still here with me, sitting at the library table, drinking, laughing. Your laugh, I can still hear it echoing through the bunker when I close my eyes, still see that radiant smile that could bring me to my knees. Your y/h/c tied up in a messy bun, big y/e/c eyes looking into my very soul. I can see you chewing on your bottom lip when you get nervous, the way your tongue would peek out between those pouty lips when you were in deep concentration, the way would scrunch up your nose when I said/done something stupid. Which was quite often come to think of it. Sometimes when the whiskey is flowing heavy through my veins, I still hear your voice. That is the memory that hurts the worst, I think. Not hearing my name pass your lips anymore, whether it was you scolding me, laughing at me, breathlessly whispered as I made love to you.

I shake my head like I can just erase the memories, downing the last of the whiskey in my glass. I wish I could erase you, but then again, I could not make it through another day without being able to see you in my mind. Missing you like this is absolute torture. The cross I must bear for the rest of my life. The last conversation we had driving you away, taking you from not only me, but Sam too. That is another guilt to add to the others. Sam loved you too, not like I do, but you were a sister in his eyes. Now he must live without you because I was a coward.

I run my hand down my face in frustration, feeling tears on my cheeks I did not know I had shed. That is a common occurrence these days. Sammy doesn’t even mention the tears anymore. They are a part of my daily life at this point. I wish everyday I could tell you how much I miss you Y/n. The bunker, the family, this life is not the same without you here. Oh, the memories we made, so many good, but also a few bad. The bad ones, of course, my doing. The day I first kissed you one of the best.

You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner, singing and dancing to the music blaring from your speaker on the counter. I was leaning against the door frame, unable to take my eyes off you. You are so beautiful, in one of my T-shirts you had stolen at some point, pajama shorts giving me a small peek when you moved the right way. I watch as your small but supple body sways to the beat of the music, your voice singing a little off key, but still beautiful.

“You just going to keep staring Winchester?” You ask with that smile I have fallen so hard for.

“If you keep dancing like that, then yes.” I reply with a grin, flirting a little hoping you get the hint. I have been throwing them at you like a major league pitcher lately.

“Well, Dean Winchester, are you flirting with me?” That mock look of disbelief making me laugh.

“What would you say if I was Y/l/n?” Please let this be the moment she finally gets it.

“I would say it is about damn time Dean.” She laughs with her hands on those full round hips. How many times have I imagined grabbing her by them, pulling her body to mine? With out hesitation, I am standing in front of her, my hands on each side of her face. Her skin is so soft, her smell invading my senses, driving me wild. I lean my forehead to hers, a very important question passing my lips.

“Can I please kiss you sweetheart?” I hold my breath waiting on her to answer me. She replies, but not with words, her hands are fisted in my shirt pulling my lips to hers. Her kiss is even more incredible than I ever imagined. Her soft full lips moving with mine like they were made just for me. Our need for air breaking us apart, but not moving an inch away from her.

“That was amazing Y/n.” My pure admiration of this woman I can’t think of anything else to say.

“I know Dean, I am quite amazing, am I not?” The laugh from us both filling the kitchen.

The memory bittersweet, causing more tears and heartache, but flooding me with the love I still have for you. Poor Sammy has tried to get me to move on, Cas too, but I will never be able to get past you. You came in my life like a twister, turning everything upside down, but in the most fabulous way. There was never and will never be another woman in my life that can compare to you. Sweet and sassy, but bold and daring. Loving and caring, but also hard and dangerous. You were a force to be reckoned with for sure, but that is why I fell in love with you. I remember when I first told you I loved you. That was a great day.

“Good morning beautiful.” Looking over to you, your hair splayed across the pillow, you are an absolute vision.

“Morning handsome. Now let me go back to sleep.” I laugh wrapping my arms around you to keep you from rolling away. A morning person you are not.

“Don’t think sweetheart.” You huff at me but with a smile on your face.

“But Deeaannn. It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I get to sleep in?” The way you drag out my name would annoy me if it was anyone other than you. You, it drives me crazy.

“Don’t you want your gifts?” I smirk knowing that will get your attention.

“Gifts? I only seen the one wrapped on the dresser.” You are so damn cute when you are confused.

“Yeah sweetheart. I couldn’t wrap the second one.” I raise one eyebrow hoping you will catch on.

“Hmmm I think I’ll pass.” I know I must look like a kicked puppy; you are laughing none the less. I really thought that would work.

“C’mere…” You have your hands in the hair at the nape of my neck, scratching lightly, making me moan into your shoulder. I kiss your neck slowly moving up to the sensitive spot behind your ear, nibbling and licking making you arch your back in pleasure. No woman has ever turned me on like you do. Every breath, every touch, every kiss, making me insane with lust.

“Dean..” Your voice just a whisper of breath. I would keep you here in this bed forever just to hear my name fall from your lips that way. I have never been one for the mushy chick flick moments in the bedroom, but with you, I live for them. We lay like this for what seems like an eternity, kissing, touching, sweet whispers of affection. I look into your soft y/e/c eyes and realize, you are my world, my everything. The words leave me before I can stop them.

“I love you Y/n.” I will never be able to forget the look of adoration on your face. Like I am your world, your everything too.

“I love you Dean.” Your hand cups my cheek and I can’t help but to lean into your touch. Ours lips meeting in of the most passionate and needful kissed we have ever shared. The way we made love that morning, like we were the only two people on Earth.

I have never tried harder to be the man you deserved than I did after that day. Swearing to you that I would change my ways. God knows I tried, doing anything and everything to show you that I was a different man. I was in many ways. I no longer had an eye for a woman that was not you, the need for whiskey to make it through the day, diminishing greatly. It was like I could see the world through new eyes, ones that knew what happiness was, what true love felt like. That was until that day, the one that was the beginning to our end. The hunt had been a bad one. I remember it clearly. You had gotten hurt trying to back us up. Which was no one’s fault, but I just could not get the picture of lying there dead out of head. The what ifs getting the best of me.

“What the hell were you thinking Y/n? Do you have a death wish?” My temper out of control, I knew it was, but there was no reigning it in.

“No Dean! I was doing my job. You know, killing monsters!” We had our arguments, but I already knew this one was going to be the worst.

“Well how about next time you kill them without almost getting yourself killed too!”  I knew you were angry now. Your cheeks flushed red, nostrils flaring, clenching your jaw.

“You know what Winchester? How about you do not tell me how to do my job! I was hunting before I ever met you!” You were a great hunter, rivaling both myself and Sammy. Before I fell in love with you, I would have been bragging how you handled yourself today. That was before my heart is now tied to yours. The thought of losing you making me insane with fear, making me say things I know I shouldn’t.

“Yeah? I’m surprised you were even alive for me to meet you then sweetheart.” Sweetheart, the term I used with love for you, but today it was laced with venom. The derogatory way the word left my lips visibly making you flinch, putting a crack in my heart. At this point I just want you to tell me it’s over. I don’t want you to hurt, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing to break your heart.

“Dean….” Sam, always trying to fix my messes. My fear of losing the people I love has done me in this time. Deep down I know I am pushing her away, but the anxiety from the hunt spurring me on.

“No Sam! She was reckless. No care about what could have happened. I can’t hunt with someone like that!” Oh shit, I really put my foot in my mouth this time.

“Really Dean? Then you can find someone else to help you and Sam. I will not hunt with you again!” I can see her trembling, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. I have went this far, why not put the final nail in the coffin.

“Fine, do me one better and just be on your way. I don’t need you anyway.” The audible gasp from her and Sammy was deafening. I had gone too far but there was no going back now.

“You don’t need me?” The pain and heartbreak in her voice, the tears now spilling down her cheeks.

“Not if that is how you are going to act Y/n.” They are both staring at me like I am a stranger. At this point I am, even to myself.

“You are evil Dean Winchester!”

“Call me a sinner, a saint, your favorite, the worst, whatever makes you feel better.” I don’t even recognize my own voice, so much disdain and bitterness being spoken to the woman who I love so much.

She turns without a word heading down the hallway. I am motionless, still standing there stoic, my dumb pride keeping me from going after her, dropping to my knees and begging her to forgive me. Sammy is beside me, looking at me with shame and disappointment clear on his features. That hurts almost as bad as the pain on Y/n’s face.

“What have you done Dean? Are you really going to let one bad hunt get to you? I can’t look at you right now. You just broke her Dean, you know that, right?” I do not utter a word, too ashamed of myself, how I acted.

“I’m going out. Let me know when she is gone.” With those words I am on my way to the garage. Needing to get out of here before I break. The last thing I want is for to leave, but after what I said to her, I can’t bring myself to stop her. She will be better off with out me.

I have been at the bar for who knows how long at this point. My mind going back over our fight. The regret swallowing me whole. I should have stayed at the bunker and stopped her, instead of running away. Dean Winchester, the ultimate runaway. Never staying to face my problems but running and trying to drown them in cheap whiskey. My shame is keeping me from calling her, but maybe she will call me, yeah, she will call me. Like she read my mind, my phone rings, her picture flashing across the screen.

“Oh god sweetheart I’m so glad you called.”

“Dean Winchester?” It isn’t Y/n on the phone. The instant feeling of dread filling my body

Standing up harshly, my chair crashing to the ground behind me, I grab my jacket and keys. I have to go see her, the memories finally too much. I make my way to the garage and jump In Baby, sticking the key in the ignition and putting it in drive as soon as the engine starts. I am on the road going straight to her. I know this is going to hurt but I need to talk to her. Tell her again how much I love her and miss her.

I pull up and turn off the car, slowly opening the door, knowing the pain that is coming, but needing to do this. I walk up the path, looking at all the different flowers. You always like bright and colorful flowers of all kinds. I should have brought you some, but being in a hurry to see you, it didn’t cross my mind. I sit down in the grass, slowly lifting my head to look at your tombstone. The biggest reminder of the deadly mistake I made. You had been crying when you left and had lost control at some point. The last phone call from your phone being from the officer to inform me you hadn’t made it.

“Hi baby, sorry it’s been awhile. This is just so hard. I love and miss you sweetheart, so much. You are still the first thought when I wake up and the last thing I see as I go to sleep. I am so sorry that your last thought was that I didn’t need you. I’ll always keep you inside my heart and mind. You healed my heart and my life by just being in it. Cas told me that he came to see you in heaven and that you forgive me. Now if I can just forgive myself. Anyway, please know that I love you Y/n, always have, always will.”

I reach to run my fingers over the picture I had placed on her tombstone. Her beautiful smile, forever reminding me of what I lost.

 Tags: @flamencodiva​ @sorenmarie87​ @foxyjwls007​ @waywardbeanie​ @emoryhemsworth​ @voltage-my2dlove​

[draw-you-coward]

ao3

headcanon that i’ve warmed up to: autistic urianger?

~

“I fear thou art mistaken, good ser. Ne’er was it mine intent to do thee or thy lady ill.” The voice is gravelly, quiet, and straining with weariness.

Thancred looks up from the book he had been thumbing through. He hadn’t expected to hear that familiar baritone this far away from its chosen place of residence. Curious, he reshelves the library book and steps to the edge of the balcony, peering down over the gilded railing.

“Well, ill you’ve done!” A red-haired mystel is standing on the floor below as if hoping to embody the concept of a restlessness, ears folded back and tail slowly whipping in agitation. Beside him is a flaxen-haired woman in a similar, although less flustered, state. “And I’ll thank you to apologize, I think! Why, I thought the elves were supposed to be—supposed to be gallant folk, high in virtue and deed! It seems I was mistaken.”

Urianger, for it is indeed him, draws in a deep, coarse breath. He lets it out as more of a roughened sigh than is polite. “I apologize, dear lady, for my malintent,” he says to the woman. “Though it was indeliberate.”

“Dear lady?” The man’s cry is indignant. “Why, she is neither dear to you nor is she obligated to take whatever that is supposed to be as an apology!” Then, sharply and swiftly, “I’ll thank you to look at your conversation partner when you are spoken to, young man! How terribly rude.”

Urianger pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Thancred turns and retreats into the building, silent and graceful.

“It’s alright, Vas, darling.” The lady speaks in a high and reedy voice. “I’m sure he meant nothing by it. Isn’t that right, er…?”

“It is,” Urianger replies. “’Twas foolish of me to supposition that mine aid in the matter would be welcomed, let alone hearkened to.”

“What? Why, you—!”

“Vas. Vas! It isn’t worth it. No, don’t.” A clacking footstep upon stone tiles.

“Is there a problem here, good folk?” Thancred appears in the archway of the alcove. Urianger's pale eyes fix on him and hold. The pair of mystel look over, clearly startled. The woman is clutching at the man’s arm, but upon spotting Thancred, she lets go and smoothes down her blouse.

“It pains me to interrupt,” he continues with an amiable smile, “but I will humbly request that, since we are in a library, you keep it down. I doubt this man has done aught to earn such ire, unless he has committed some grievous crime…?”

The man huffs in irritation, but eyes Thancred's gunblade warily, and eventually shakes his head. “No, no. Not enough to start trouble, I suppose. Come along now, dearest. We’ll go to someplace more… civilized to get what we need.”

With a sniff and an unnecessarily pretentious ear flick, they stalk past Thancred and out of the room. He watches them leave with raised eyebrows, then turns to Urianger.

“And just how did you manage to step on their toes?” he asks, crossing his arms.

Urianger's mouth twitches downwards, then evens out. “I did offer but a simple suggestion,” he mutters. “They wert searching for knowledge beyond their purview. The beginner’s tomes art yonder,” he points, “Where ‘tis more acceptable to be… raucous.”

Thancred's eyebrows arch. “Did you honestly tell them that?” he asks, amused. “Oh my. What crawled up your skirts and died today, eh?”

Urianger's eyes flash with annoyance. “A library serveth its purpose best as a domain of learning, ergo of peace and quiet,” he says, a little waspishly. “’Tis doing its residents ill to disrespect said purpose.”

Thancred leans against the wall. “Well, we’re not being very respectful right now, if that’s the case. Be any snappier and you’d be a crab.”

Urianger pivots on his heel. “Begone, then!” he says harshly. “If thou wouldst do naught but pick at my temperament and drive me to quarrel.”

He pushes a book back in its place far more aggressively than is necessary. Definitely far more aggressively than Thancred would ever think he would treat one.

“Are you…?” Thancred steps forward, laying a hand on Urianger's arm to turn him around. He does so, albeit with a stiff jaw and a warning behind his eyes. “Twelve above, alright. Alright.”

He glances around, mentally plotting the path through the library that would walk them past the quietest sections on the way out. “Come on then,” he says when he has it, letting go of Urianger to beckon. “The noise levels are more even outside of the building. You can take my arm if you like.”

Urianger eyes him suspiciously, but follows as Thancred leads him out of the alcove, and after a few seconds, tentatively settles long fingers around his shoulder. His grip is a good indication of his reaction to the current noise level, and Thancred re-charts their walk a couple of times when it tightens, at one point near-painfully. It is oddly loud today, although he remembers hearing something about some writing competition recently starting up in the newsletter. Perhaps people are doing research for that.

The whispers, giggling, and awkward coughing fade out as they near the exit. They push past the main entrance doors, and the background chatter of the Crystarium seeps in to fill the holes of silence they leave behind.

Thancred waits until they are some ways into the street before he glances up at Urianger. “There. Is this better?”

Urianger looks somewhat surprised, but nods jerkily. “Aye,” he says after a beat. “I… thank thee.”

Thancred crosses his arms. “You aren’t used to anything that isn’t either pure silence or consistent background noise,” he explains. “Even when we were back on the Source, you would only sit with the rest of us if there was enough chatter, although not so much as to be disturbing. Anything you could zone out to, but nothing that would interrupt your train of thought.”

“Thou… art more observant of such things than I grant thee credit for.” Urianger clears his throat and closes his eyes, then opens them to look askance over his shoulder. “Furthermore, I… would have remained thither were it not for thee. The library is customarily my place of solitude. I apologize for my vexation. And I… I thank thee.”

“You already did.” Thancred smiles mildly. “Think nothing of it, my friend. You must be having a stressful day indeed if it got to you this much. What say you to… hm, I think I saw a quaint little sweets shop open up the other day. What do you think? We can see if they have macarons.”

Urianger looks taken aback for a second, as if the thought that Thancred could possibly know his favourite sugary treat (never mind that he lives with their resident baker and has full access to his secret list) is really that shocking. Then his face creases into a smile, if one that is still a little tight from residual tension.

“I… would fain agree to that suggestion,” he says tentatively, which is Urianger-speak for ‘I would like that’. “If thou hast not business elsewhere.”

“Not for a while, I don’t.” Thancred pats the hand that is still on his shoulder. “Come along then, my gallant elf. My treat.”

~*~

“Can I take a pink one, or am I going to upset your piles?” Thancred asks blandly.

Urianger, who is staring intently at said piles, does not respond to him, but after a second he slides over a green macaron with his forefinger.

“Lovely.” Thancred picks it up to study it. “What is this, mint or pistachio? Is mint even something you’re supposed to put in sweets?”

“Honey dew,” Urianger rumbles without looking up.

“Oh, well then.” Thancred takes a bite. It is indeed honey dew. He finishes it in another.

“I daresay you could put your sweet tooth to use more often.” He begins to slowly reach towards the lavender pile. “It wouldn’t hurt to have dessert, you know, at your place. A man gets tired of eating like a rabbit.”

Urianger's hand closes around his unsubtle wrist. “Ryne is a growing girl. She needeth nutrition, not sugar,” he intones. Thancred wiggles his fingers tauntingly, and his eyes narrow. “Hmph.”

“She is, but I’m not.” Satisfied, Thancred tosses the pink macaron he had swiped with two quick fingers of his left hand into the air and catches it in his mouth.

Urianger's eyes dart to his pink pile, which is indeed two telling ilms short. “Thou art a fool,” he mutters.

Thancred swallows and gives him his most saccharine smile. “But…?”

Urianger sighs, releasing his wrist. He slumps into his chair. “But a dear one.”

Thancred snatches another macaron and stuffs it into his mouth before he can so much as blush at that. Urianger only watches him in resignation, the many years they’ve known each other having tempered him to this behaviour.

“Fine, I shall bake dessert for thee and thine once.” He sighs again, puffing out a strand of hair that has fallen in his face. “If thou wilt refrain from pilfering the blue pile. Those are my favourite.”

Thancred kisses his fingertips and presses them to his heart. “Thief’s honour,” he promises with a wink.

~*~

[lettersnorth]

October Prompt: Silence

Music Theme (First part) Music Theme (Second part)

The crushed stones crunched under her boots as she made her way up the walk. Pushing against the manor’s heavy oak doors, Aislinn shouldered her way inside. The Company manor appeared to be blissfully quiet. The caretakers were certainly around somewhere but the manor was a big place. No one came hurrying to greet her and given her current state of mind, that was just fine with her. 

She paused in the foyer, her senses stretching in the quiet. Soft murmurs and tinkling of silverware came from the cafe. So, someone was home. She stared at the grand staircase for a long moment, torn between going directly upstairs to the library or her room. Travel worn and weary in more ways than one, she could use a bath. And a change of clothes. But she had always found solace and wisdom in those old tomes and her mind needed that as much as her body needed rest.

She swayed there, next to the marble fountain. Tired and wrung out like a threadbare tea towel. In the end Bertram hadn’t needed saving. She had told Ren, relayed the message. There was no need to track down another thrall. Her work on this particular project would cease. She still wasn’t sure if he had taken the news entirely well, truthfully she didn’t expect it of him, knowing what it meant for the brothers. But it was neither hers or Ren’s decision to make. It was Bertram’s and they would need to abide by his wishes. She would have to check in with Ren after he had some time to process. He was a system without a pressure relief valve, she reminded herself. As hard as this was for her, it was likely harder for him. 

“I do applaud your juvenile efforts.”

A wave of prideful anger washed over her as she recalled Garrett’s sneering words. Mostly because she saw the truth in them now. That is what it all amounted to, wasn’t it? A fumbling, misguided, juvenile attempt to do what she thought was right. 

Casting a forlorn look up towards the library, Aislinn sighed. She was exhausted, body and mind. Chances are, the words on the page would all run together anyhow in the state she was in. Best to regroup and tackle the problem fresh in the morning. 

So she went to her room, unlocking the door, shuffling inside and dropping her pack on the floor. As she shut the door behind her, she heard the crackling of a fire in the fireplace. She hadn’t been home for weeks, the caretakers never wandered into personal rooms, there should be no reason for a fire to be lit. And yet. She felt as if the pressure in the room had dropped suddenly. Her ears popped. This sensation of hers came on suddenly and usually with only one purpose. Pressing a hand against one ear, she slowly turned and reached for the nearest light. 

Her spine shot ramrod straight and she took several steps back, towards the door, all the while conscious of her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest like a frightened animal. 

“How did you get in? Why are you here?” 

The languid midlander currently reclining in a lounge chair, watched her reaction with interest. “Your Company runs a cafe. Anyone can walk in. As for your room, simple three pin tumbler lock on the door. I expected more.” Sterling said, stretching out his long legs before the fireplace, looking for all intents and purposes, most comfortable. “Don’t be so coy, Aislinn. Obviously, I’ve come all this way to see you. Sit down, let’s have a chat.” 

“If you’ve something to say, say it and leave.” she stiffly replied. 

He tensed in the chair, subtly, but Aislinn noticed. She took another step back, her innards growing cold before swiftly reminding herself her chakrams still sat on her hips. 

“Such hostility.” he sighed. “Let’s get down to it, then. You’ve gone and attracted yourself some attention. Seems the Blades have suddenly renewed their interest in you. Why is that?” 

He leaned forward in his seat and tossed a flyer on the coffee table. With one eye on him, she moved closer and looked down at the parchment. A wanted poster. A fairly accurate sketch of  herself, right down to the scar across her face. She cursed under her breath. She told the lieutenant it wasn’t a good idea for her to be in Ul’dah. She told him. He had said she was the only engineer they had without Tyr. They needed her for the job. He was right. But look at what it had cost her. 

“Do these people you’ve surrounded yourself with know? Your history, I mean. How you made ends meet in Ul’dah. The cartel. The drug running. That unfortunate issue with the Blade. You spent time in the gaol for that, didn’t you?” 

There was no need to ask Sterling who he meant. He had obviously been watching her for awhile now. That was his way. Patient and unhurried, thorough so that when he did pounce it made the biggest impact. She was unnaturally still as he ran down the list of her past sins. 

“In case you hadn’t noticed, this is Limsa Lominsa. Smuggling is par for the course. No one’s going to bat an eye if you mean to spout off.” she said, quiet but unsure. 

He shrugged, hooking his claws into her uncertainty and dragging her down. “Let’s say, purely for example, I find you Ala Mhigans are rather simple folk that fall into two categories. Those mule-headed enough to stick to their principles and those that will toss them to the wind in favor of food and gil. That friend of yours seems to be the former.” he said as he rose from the chair. “Let’s also say, again, for example, that this Company you’ve found is full of disciplined, decent folk.”

Aislinn watched in silence as he slowly began to amble around her apartment, idly touching things as he went. It made her want to scream. 

“You haven’t been honest and people like that hate dishonesty.” he picked up a half-built servo, studied it intently before putting it back in its place, all the while knowing he had her full attention. “I could help, if you like. Sit down and have a heart to heart with them.” 

“That’s very obliging of you.” she said tightly. “But I’d rather you didn’t trouble yourself.” 

“What about your Company Commander? Does he know he’s harboring a fugitive?” 

The Commander. She hadn’t exactly made the best first impression with him, had she? Tyr had smoothed it over but now he was blowing in the wind. No one knew where. 

“5,000 gil a moon and I keep this all quiet.” he stated. “That’s my price.” 

“5...that’s ridiculous!” she started. “I’ll tell them myself before I give you one coin.” 

“You could. But life’s not been kind to you, Aislinn. Can you really afford to lose the ties you’ve made here? And let’s not forget the Blades. I’m sure they’d be interested in your whereabouts. It’d be my sworn duty as a citizen of Ul’dah to convey such information.” 

“Unless you were too busy. Extorting me and spending the gil.” she dryly replied. “The sum is too much.” 

“Don’t give me that. You’re a smart one, you’ll find a way.” he said, with a shrug. “And if not we can come to some other arrangement.” 

She jerked back, the blood draining from her face. Her thoughts must have been clearly written and on display because in the next moment he passed her a look a disgust. 

“Not that. No one wants a cold fish in their bed. Gods.” he gave a sharp shake of his head as if the very idea repulsed him. “Just what kind of monster do you think I am?”

Her heart resumed its steady beat in her chest. She worked quickly to rally and recover. “An audacious plan coming from a man whose hands are no cleaner than mine. Blow me in and I could tell the Blades everything I know about the cartel.” 

He hardly looked impressed with her threat. “How’d that go last time, telling the truth?” He asked, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned to face her fully. “I assume that when they threw you in the gaol you must have been shouting from the rooftops that their man was forcing himself on ‘innocent’ girls. And yet you still found yourself on the docket for a hanging.” he tilted his head, his tone turning reasoned and cogent. “This is a discussion between old friends. I see no reason to drag the cartel into this. You know how they can be, surely you remember.” 

She remembered. Some days it was all she could do to forget. She would never be free of it, Aislinn realized with a sudden riptide of certainty. Of Ul’dah. Of the cartel. Of him. For every strike, he had a parry. Of course he did. This was Sterling. He never engaged in any fight he wasn’t absolutely certain of winning. The truth was a crushing weight bearing down on her. This was the rest of her life. Penance for surviving. 

Without a word, she crossed to the cabinet near the door and pulled open the drawer. She took several small pouches of gil she had saved up and dumped them into one larger one before turning and tossing the purse to him. 

He caught it with ease and tucked it into his riding coat with a smirk. “It would seem this concludes our business for now. I’ll show myself out.” 

As he moved past her on his way to the door, he paused and studied her. Raising a hand, he motioned with one finger to the scar across her face, stopping just short of touching her. “That really didn’t heal up well at all, did it? What a shame.” 

He never could resist a parting shot. She didn’t trust herself to reply but stared resolutely ahead, her fury written in the sharp lines of her clenched jaw and squared shoulders. The shutting of the door behind Sterling rang hollow in the otherwise silent apartment. Aislinn found herself unable to move, rooted to the spot, not knowing what she might do if she did. 

She closed her eyes and reminded herself she’d walked through fire and escaped it. Not unscarred, but tempered, like steel. She could bend, but she wouldn’t ever break. Not again. 

[ps-nippets]

WIP Progress as cake baking:

1. Grocery shopping (you have the basic idea, a general sense for the main characters & a few jumbled scenes which you’ll have to sift through)

2.  Scattered Ingredients (You have nailed down the setting, the plot direction, the names of the main characters and an outline)

3. Raw Batter (You’ve combined the  ingredients. You’re steadily working on the first draft and have a few thousand words on it.)

4. Half Baked (Halfway or mostly done. Struggling with how to wrap things up or just feeling unmotivated. At the stage where you are doubting your ‘cake’)

5. Frosting (Done with the first draft, editing in progress or if you’re like me and you edit as you go along then you’re on 5th draft)

6. Taste testing (Looking for betas and feedback)

7. Packaging (You’ve followed the general formatting guidelines and your book baby is ready to be set out to publishers, editors and agents)

Thank you so much @thescribesloft for tagging me! Be prepared this is gonna be long!

1. Tunnel at the End of the Light:(Raw Batter)

Genre: Low Fantasy, Political Form: Novel POV: Third Person Limited Main characters: Yan, Zor Synopsis:  The empire’s conquests have ceased, a semblance of peace made home in its heart. Yet one day, out in the open for everyone to see, two Ministers of the Royal Council were executed. Accused of helping the revolutionaries that The King dismissed as useless peasants. Yan Krylin, the young Director of the most renowned trading company, curious for the truth, chooses to investigate. His choices send him on a path that he desperately tried to escape all his life, but his best friend Zor Grizeis, hungry for the power and promise of a better future, burns all the bridges they cross. 

2. Valse Macabre:(Scattered Ingredients minus the outline bit)

Genre: Fantasy, Political, Romance Form: Novel POV: Third Person Limited (or First Person I haven’t decided yet) Main characters: Venera, Dragomir Synopsis: Every person, had the Gift, the gift of shape-shifting into a unique animal which manifested by the time they were eighteen. Those who didn’t were outcasts. But that was how society worked, technology flourished, wars ended and begun. Since Venera was 10 she knew what she had to do. She had to sneak into the palace and kill the King. She is now twenty and the first part proved to be easy just a few days ago... She had the rarest gift of all. She could shape-shift into people. But does she have the willpower to kill the person who truly sees her for the first time?

3. Avelin:(Scattered Ingredients and again minus the outline bit)

Genre: Low Fantasy Form: Graphic Novel/Comic POV: Third Person Limited Main characters: Cissa, Volshe Synopsis: Cissa, a deaf Vietnamese girl, was always determined to capture the world around her: Photographs and Art. Those were her domains and she was determined to be the best. It is days before she has to submit her project to one of the most prestigious universities in Prague. So she goes out hunting for inspiration in the maze-like streets of the old city. In an odd, tucked-away antique store, she finds a ring with what the store owner assured her was a natural garnet stone. In the comfort of her home, she accidentally shatters the ring and is transported into a world of colors and blank eyes, ruled over by the Volshe. The Volshe is but a man trying to escape the world he had created and the only way he could be freed... is for a person to fall in love with him, and be the one to kill him.

4. Spice Boys:(between Grocery Shopping and Scattered Ingredients)

Genre: Crime/Heist/Comedy Form: Script/Screenplay POV: First Person Main characters: Meric, Ender, Kesar, Vasily, Pepa, Ani Synopsis: This was a spontaneous idea, a very very ambitious one too. Steal the cursed crown jewels, which are kept under seven locks in the Prague Castle Treasury, whose keys are carried by the seven most influential people of the country. They had a plan, one that would have worked. But the jewels have already been stolen just as they managed to infiltrate the last security barrier. On the stand, lay a pack of spices: Turmeric, Lavender, Saffron, Basil, Pepper and Anise. The infamous trademark of the a band of thieves nicknamed by the authorities “Spice Boys.” But they were not the ones to steal it. They got caught at the crime scene without committing the crime. They escape and are competing against the police to find out who was the one who framed them. 

5. Tale of the White Cathedral:(Grocery Shopping)

Genre: Folk Tale Form: Screenplay/Animation POV: Third Person Limited Main characters: Father, Mother, Daughter, Slavic mythical figures(clearly haven't decided on the names yet) Synopsis: A girl blessed by the Moon and the Sun was born to an old couple. She was perfection, golden curls, silver eyes, laugh as bright as the moon and heart as warm as the sun. Her family was as happy as they could be living close the edge of the forest, tending to the fields. She falls ill, nearly dead. Her distraught mother cannot bear to leave her side. The devastated father begs for guidance from the Knower of Paths, the Crescent. The Crescent promises to help his godchild, by guiding the man to the only place he would be able to get a cure: a flask of water from the spring of the White Cathedral.  But all the perils of the path, the Father must face on his own.

6. A Drop of Ink:(Grocery Shopping)

Genre: Fiction Form: Poem(short novella) POV: First Person Main characters: Idea, Boy Synopsis: An angry apprentice to the Church hides away in the dusty library from his father. He hears the rustle of the words jamming themselves into his mind, none of them making sense. A faint clarity in the chaos shines through he follows it to a dropped book on the floor. A voice now loud and bright, inside his head tells him of a beautiful future where no one needs to be hurt, where he can be the best. But as he grows, he gives his own meaning to the pure Idea, corrupting its words, twisting his world... becoming a monster, the one whose name people would whisper forever.

So these are all I have for now and a lot of work is meant to be done. Although, I am mainly working on Tunnel at the End of the Light, I am so excited to see them all through :D

I tag: @odessawrites, @phoenix-the-write-thing, @phoenix-the-write-thing, @crossyoursins, @blueinkblot, @incognitxburritowrites, @nappyfreesince2003, @theollinshist

[maiden-of-wolves]

Here I am again :D but this time for ArielxFenris. So this time lets go with 3, 14, 22, and 37 (also 4 if you feel like it ^^')

I’m SO glad you came back for this - it’s well known about ArielxZev, but ArielxFen gets far less notice. One of these days I should do one of these to myself for ZevxFen in this AU. Or you’re welcome to if you feel so inclined. xD

We’ll go in the order of the sheet again and I’ll put things below the cut for those reading on mobile!

3) Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

Well honestly they are both very in denial for a while. It doesn’t help that Dorian picks on Ariel about it, so they kinda have to face it every so often and choose to actively pretend otherwise. Mostly because they both believe they’d ruin what relationship they do have by adding that kind of intimacy to it, though for very different reasons. xD

Once they’re both comfortable with each other, Zev comes back into the picture and Fenris isn’t sure how to feel for a bit. Once things settle in and they really discuss it with each other, Fenris is keen on holding hands or just always standing close to be sure he makes it clear to others who Ariel’s with. Ariel will often lean into his shoulder and is happy to hold his hand (at least for a little while, until it gets too sweaty ‘cause she’s always warm). Kissing is very, very rare, but they’ll sometimes get swept up in the emotion of a reunion or sometimes Fenris pulls it just to annoy racist folks who look down on the idea of a human woman being with elves and she’s fine with showing their relationship off to spite racists.

4) First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

Neither of them are love at first sight, though for very different reasons.

At first Fenris feels like she’s just a know-it-all mage and dislikes her, even comparing her to Solas (which would’ve really hurt her if she’d been present to hear it). But as he continually runs into her in the library, he realizes that she actually can barely read and is impressed she knows as much as she does without being able to read. Eventually offers his help to tutor her, since he knows what it’s like to learn to read as an adult. He also realizes that her magic isn’t really like everyone else’s and almost feels sorry for how she suffers from it.

Ariel is in the same boat, honestly, that she was with Zevran - she’s still learning about how she’s actually worth someone else’s time/interest. She’s very impressed that Fenris would be willing to help her learn Common, but continuously apologizes until he essentially scolds her for it. Since he ends up being interested in her writing, she teaches him, too, which is partially how she gets over her guilt of him having to tutor her. They pass notes throughout the day (only sometimes through couriers because Cullen gets on them about wasting resources) and write to each other when Fenris is off on missions, switching between Common and English.

14) Anything they both dread?

The inevitability of death for either of them, mostly.

They also dread having to argue because usually it’s very clear who’s right and the other person hates feeling dumb about being stubborn later.

Goodbyes. They know they have to part sometimes, but knowing where the other one is (at least in general) is very comforting.

22) Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

Of course. Fenris is consistently in danger and Ariel worries about him to no end, though she does still manage to get work done until he comes back - at which point she usually insists that he go to the clinic to get checked over (and if he’s in a decent mood he’ll just rebuff with “and me having to remove clothing articles for you to check has nothing to do with it?” Of course she denies that strenuously). If Ariel’s ever taken somewhere that’s dangerous in order to help Venna and he’s not involved... let’s just say he resembles a tiger pacing in a cage. Later he’s better if Zevran is involved, since he trusts his abilities, but he’s still concerned unless he’s involved.

37) How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

They are both essentially ride-or-die partners. There’s only one line that either will never cross - and that involves slavery. If it came down to either saving their life or preventing others from being sold into slavery... they would both tell the other to let them die to prevent it.

[harttohartforever-blog]

I Left My Hart in San Francisco

Jennifer hugged her pillow, dozing lightly. Jonathan had left early this morning and promised to have Max bring her breakfast on a tray so she was trying to get back to sleep for a few more minutes. The sun streaming in the big windows was making it difficult. Then the phone rang. She had ended up over on Jonathan's side of the big California king so she grabbed his extension without opening her eyes.

"Yes?" The smile spread across her face at the sound of his voice. "Hello, Darling."

"Have I thanked you for starting my day off in such a lovely way?" He asked her from somewhere on the 405.

"The pleasure was all mine." She assured him. Her voice still held that same sleepy arousal he had heard an hour ago. The voice that caused him to delay his shower for thirty minutes or so and make love to her even though it meant he had to forego his breakfast. Max had smiled knowingly and handed him a foil-wrapped package on his way out the door.

When he had realized Jonathan was running behind he had brought the Bentley around and had it idling by the front door. His regular Tuesday morning omelet had been wrapped in a warm tortilla to become a Tuesday morning burrito instead. Barring any traffic incidents, Jonathan should still make his meeting. Assuming of course, that he could resist the siren song of his sleepy wife.

 The meeting with the Chinese team had gone well, Hart Telecomm would be expanding into the Asian markets in the coming year. Jonathan had just finished dictating some correspondence for Deanne when the intercom buzzed.

"Mr. Hart, I have a Sister Domenica from the Mission Street Orphanage on line two. She says it's an emergency."

"Put her through Deanne." Jonathan hadn't spoken directly to Sister Domenica in several years although they still exchanged Christmas cards every December and Jonathan paid the tax bill on the orphanage he'd grown up in every April.

"Jonathan, I need your help. I don't know who else to turn to. There's a young boy, Charlie, who lives here. He's very bright. Actually, he reminds me a lot of you. He's disappeared. The local police aren't doing anything about it, they think he's just a runaway. But I'm worried.

"His parents have been coming around lately, ever since the judge placed him here permanently. They have substance abuse issues and Charlie was dreadfully neglected when he lived with them. They were using him to panhandle on the streets. Imagine, eight years old and he'd never been to school. I know you have some pull with the police and I was hoping you could make a phone call." The kindly nun sounded frantic.

She had been the one to recognize his talent with electronics and had encouraged him. She had often brought him various gadgets that had been donated or she found at the Salvation Army, helping him take them apart and explore how they worked. She took note of his boundless curiosity and took him to the library every week. She had urged him to read up on all sorts of topics and learn everything he could. By the time he had left the orphanage at seventeen, his education would put a third-year college student to shame.

He owed a large part of his success to Sister Domenica, that was part of the reason he paid the property taxes for the orphanage and the convent it was attached to every year.

"I'll take care of it." He promised the Sister now and hung up the phone. "Deanne, would you get Mrs. Hart on the phone. And ask Stanley to come up as soon as he can, please." He clicked off the intercom and looked at the scant information he had gotten about the missing boy. If San Francisco cops were as overworked and understaffed as Los Angeles police the boy might never be found. Just then his phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts.

"Darling, do you have anything pressing in the next few days? I need to go up to San Francisco to look into something and I'd like your input as well." He paused a moment then smiled at her response. "Aren't they always? I'll tell Frank to get the jet ready and be home in an hour or so. Yes, I love you too Darling." He clicked the disconnect then asked Deanne to call Frank for him. He was just hanging up again when his office door swung open and Stanley stumbled in breathless.

"Stanley, I need you to do some digging for me. I have a police case number. I need all the files related to this case from San Francisco PD. Make sure you cross-reference any files on the parents as well. And there should be a family court file too. I don't know if it will be linked to this case number or not, you may have to access the court records separately. And I need it as fast as possible."

"Right away Mr. Hart." Stanley tripped on the rug as he turned and hurried out of the room.

 Jennifer hadn't asked any questions, she simply packed a bag for each of them. Whatever was going on, she trusted that he would explain eventually. Once they had made their way to the airport and Frank was winging them up the coast, Jonathan filled her in. He didn't have much to go on yet.

Charlie Grant, eight years old, removed from the custody of his parents, Willie and Crystal Grant (current address unknown) and placed in the temporary care of the Mission Street Orphanage eight months ago. Stanley was trying to get the court files unsealed. He couldn't go through official channels but there was always a backdoor into any computer system, he just had to find it.

By the time they landed at SFO Stanley had emailed the Grant's criminal files to Jonathan. It was mostly small crimes, petty theft and panhandling. Crystal Grant had several arrests for prostitution but the charges had always been reduced to misdemeanor solicitation, probably due to Charlie's existence.

At the orphanage, Sister Domenica was able to fill in a little bit more. The Grants had been arrested panhandling in Russian Hill. Charlie, ill-dressed for the November night, had been standing on the center island at Van Ness and Lombard streets holding a ragged cardboard sign, Willie and Crystal were passed out under some shrubs on the corner. The boy was filthy, malnourished, and very nearly illiterate. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten and he coughed terribly from chronic bronchitis brought on by sleeping outdoors.

The Sisters had fed his body and mind with as much as he could hold. He was still small for his age, and very thin, but he had lost that pinched, skeletal look and he devoured books as fast as he could get his hands on them. Sister Domenica had recognized the boy's potential and had been shepherding him gently, just had she had steered Jonathan all those years ago.

But over the past few weeks, the nuns had seen Willie and Crystal loitering by the gates, watching Charlie play. They had tried to lure him away when the nuns' backs were turned on several occasions and Sister Domenica suspected that was what had happened this time. The police had no time for one missing boy who probably ran away. She gave Jonathan a photograph, one of those stiff posed, plain background school pictures. Of a solemn-looking boy with grey eyes and a shock of dark brown hair sticking up in the back.

"He's a delightful boy, a little withdrawn still, but he always tries hard. Sister Dorcas was teaching him to play her guitar."

"May we keep this?" Jennifer held up the photo.

"We are going to the police station next. Harry Grey has given us the name of a local detective to speak to." Jonathan added.

"Thank you, Jonathan, Jennifer. It means so much to me that you would drop everything to come up here and help." Sister Domenica clasped each of their hands in turn and made a sign of the cross as they turned to leave.

 "I'd like to speak to Detective Montgomery, David Montgomery," Jonathan told the desk sergeant.

"Please let him know that Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Hart would like to speak with him." Jennifer knew that Jonathan was reticent to trade on his name but something in the boy's thoughtful grey eyes had gotten a hold of her and she would go to any lengths to find him. On the plane, she had told Jonathan that she didn't want to find the kid's body in a dumpster but now she knew they had to try.

Predictably, the desk sergeant perked up at the mention of Jonathan's name and they were ushered past security to a gritty bullpen crowded with battered desks. Detective Montgomery had a desk under the air register, his craggy face looked tired in the harsh fluorescent lights. But by the time he had crossed the room, with an armload of file folders, to where they stood his smile was right out of a press release.

"Mr. Hart, Mrs. Hart. Why don't we talk in the conference room." He led the way to a small room at the end of the hall and closed the door. "So what can I do for you folks?" Jonathan filled him in on everything they had learned from Sister Domenica and added their own concerns for the boy's safety.

"So you see Detective, my wife and I would consider it a personal favor if you would make every attempt to locate Charlie forthwith."

"Mr. Hart, I can assure you that everything possible is being done to find Charlie Grant. It was, even before I got a phone call from one Lt. Grey. He spoke in glowing terms about your assistance with some of their cases and asked that we extend you every courtesy.

"Now I can't share case files with you because of privacy laws so I'm going to have to ask you not to open these while I am getting a cup of coffee." He patted the stack of files, "the coffee maker on this floor is crap. Philz Coffee Truck is usually down in the courtyard by now. I guess it will take me about fifteen minutes." He glanced pointedly at the thick stack again and walked out of the room.

"There is no way we can read all of this in fifteen minutes." Jonathan worried.

"I know," Jennifer said. "I can take a photo of each page with my phone and we can blow them up and read them later. Here, you turn the pages and I'll take the pictures." She quickly adjusted the settings on her phone and started snapping a photo of each page. They made it through a little more than half of the stack before they heard Detective Montgomery's voice approaching the door.

"I'm sorry about that," He told the Harts. "If there is nothing else I can do for you folks? Thank you for coming by, and we will keep you posted." He escorted them back to the lobby then winked and added: "and I hope you will keep us posted as well."

When they arrived at the Fairmont Hotel Jonathan asked for a printer to be sent up and they spent a couple of hours printing the pages and looking for clues.

"Ah-hah," Jennifer yelled triumphantly. "There's a notation here in the CPS report that the parents are known to sleep in an encampment next to the reservoir a few blocks from where they were arrested." She pulled up a map of the area and printed it while Jonathan called a car service to take them to Russian Hill.

When they pulled up near the encampment Jonathan had to do the old tear-a-hundred-dollar-bill-in-half number to get the driver to wait and Jennifer had to stifle her giggle while he did.

"I thought they only did that in the movies." She spoke quietly, moved by the extreme poverty she saw. Only a few blocks from two and three million-dollar homes were people who were so destitute that they often didn't even have a tent, just a ratty tarp spread over some boxes or stretched between signposts. Even though the Harts had dressed down for this excursion they still stood out simply because their clothes were ironed and in good repair.

They walked up and down the rows asking about the Grants and pressing folded bills into the hands of anyone who had information. Or, at least Jonathan did. Soft-hearted Jennifer was giving money to anyone who had children with them whether they had information or not.

"Darling, come on," he urged. "Mike here says that he saw the Grants panhandling by the cable car turn out a couple of blocks east of here. He said they will sleep here if they don't get enough to rent a motel room for the night." They hurried back to the car but when they arrived at the cable car stop the Grants were already gone. Another panhandler was able to confirm that they did have a young boy with them in exchange for another of Jonathan's folded twenties.

"Come on Darling, there's nothing more we can do tonight. Let's go back to the hotel. We will try again in the morning. Since their driver had actually waited, twice, Jonathan gave him the other half of the c-note and then tipped him a second one when he secured a promise to return in the morning and drive for them again.

"Darling, what would you say to some room service supper and early to bed?" He asked her as they walked through the lobby.

"I would say 'hello lover'." She smiled her saucy smile at him and entered the elevator. They dined on grilled ribeye steaks with potatoes lyonnaise and Caprese salad, with chocolate cake for dessert. Then Jennifer went to run a bubble bath.

"Jonathan, it's deep in here. What if I drown? There's not even a lifeguard." Her laughter floated through the air and he quickly shed his clothing to join her in the big tub. Jennifer looked fantastic in bubbles. She was right, the tub was deep. And plenty large enough for two.

"I'll save you, Darling." He promised as he stepped in opposite her.

"Jonathan, move your foot."

"Sorry." He assumed a look of fake contrition and she leaned forward to kiss him. They soaked until the water began to cool and Jennifer very deliberately stood up. Bubbles and foam slid sensually down her body, drawing his eyes up her legs, her flat stomach and high breasts, the heat in her eyes nearly enough to rewarm the water. He stood and pulled her into his arms.

"You are so lovely." He spoke as if he was seeing her for the first time. She loved that about him. He always made her feel cherished. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him very sweetly. The fluffy white bath sheet was big enough to wrap around them both and their drying each other off looked more like dancing in the steamy bathroom.

The big bed felt like an island and there was just the two of them in the whole world. They made love slowly, continuing the dance they had started. Wrapped in their own universe that expanded beyond the joining together of their bodies.

The next morning after breakfast they met their driver again and returned to the homeless encampment. This time they were lucky. Many people remembered their prior generosity and were more willing to talk to them today. The Grant's tent was pointed out in fairly short order. Willie and Crystal Grant were nowhere to be seen but Charlie was sitting just outside the tent flap reading an old paperback.

"Darling, get a little ahead of me and go make conversation with the boy. See if you can move him a little bit away from the tent. I've called Detective Montgomery to meet us here but I would rather Charlie not have to see them arresting his parents. I'll hang back a ways as not to frighten him."

It was a sad commentary on the state of young Charlie's life that he assumed Jennifer was another social worker and expressed no fear, only a tired sort of resignation when she began to steer him away. It broke her heart to watch him not showing any emotion when the police arrived and his parents were arrested. Crystal was as apathetic as her son but Willie Grant broke free and made a run for it. A high school track star before the drugs had taken hold, he was able to pull away from the pursuing uniforms until he broke free of the encampment and straight into oncoming traffic.

Jennifer twisted Charlie against her as the sickening thud echoed back to them. She held him tightly in case he tried to run but the child wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face deeper into her waist. Something shifted in her as she awkwardly patted his head and she decided that she would speak to Jonathan about establishing a trust for the boy, perhaps something Sister Domenica could administer so the mother couldn't touch it.

The look on her face was as clear as neon to Jonathan. There was no mistaking her arms wrapped around the child so he approached Detective Montgomery and secured permission for them to drive Charlie back to the orphanage. The smile on Sister Domenica's face when she saw Charlie was worth everything they went through. He launched himself out of the Towncar and raced across the blacktop to hug her.

"It's a terrible thing when a child is better off in an orphanage than with the people who brought him into the world." Jennifer spoke quietly but her low tone only enhanced the importance of her words. Jonathan made no reply but to reach for her hand. They stood like that, watching the children play, for a long time without speaking.

Detective Montgomery met them in the hotel lobby with bad news.

"Crystal Grant committed suicide in her cell an hour ago. She hung herself with her bedsheet."

"Oh no," Jennifer cried.

"Detective, what will this mean for Charlie?" Jonathan asked.

"He will remain at the orphanage until a suitable home can be found for him. Unfortunately, prospects are not good for a boy his age. There aren't enough foster homes to go around and most adoptive parents want babies, not older kids."

"Has Charlie been told?" Jennifer asked.

"I called the orphanage before I came over. A Sister Dorcas said they would handle it. I came by because I wanted to let you know personally. I'll be going now. Thank you for the assistance finding Charlie." Jonathan signed for the check as soon as the detective left them in the lounge and took Jennifer upstairs.

"Jonathan ...?" He cut her off before she could finish her thought.

"I already spoke to the bank and set it up." He assured her.

"Set what up?"

"A trust for Charlie. I named the orphanage as his trustees. They can always reassign it if he gets adopted. I knew from the look on your face at the reservoir that you were thinking about it."

"That's lovely Darling, but it isn't what I was going to say. I ... I was wondering ..." Jennifer bit her lips. Jonathan couldn't recall ever seeing her look nervous before. " ... Well, I was thinking about what Detective Montgomery said about there not being enough foster homes, and that Charlie would probably have to stay at Mission Street ... couldn't we take him home with us?" She finished in a rush.

"He seems like a fine boy Darling, but we don't actually know anything about him."

"But Sister Domenica does and she thinks he has real potential. You heard her, she thinks he is a lot like you." She argued. When they had decided not to have children it had seemed an easy choice. They didn't live a life that was exactly baby-friendly. But something about Charlie wouldn't let her go. Maybe it was because of what Sister Domenica had said, or maybe just his dark hair and quiet manner, but she fancied she could see the young Jonathan in him.

"It would mean some major changes in our way of life. And we don't know how Max would feel about having a kid in the house." He cautioned.

"Protest a little longer before you agree, Darling." She patted his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss. Jonathan opened his mouth to say something more then shut it abruptly. He knew that the boy needed a family, he just hadn't let himself consider it before now.

The thought of having a child had sort of been in the back of his mind for several years, ever since Jonathan Jr. had stayed with them for a few days. He had known he wasn't that boy's father no matter what the mother had claimed in the beginning. But the way it had felt when Jonathan Jr. kissed him goodnight and called him Dad had made him wish the boy was his.

"How about if we go see him tomorrow, spend a little time actually getting to know him. And if you still think it's a good idea then I'll make some inquiries. Sound good?".

"It sounds wonderful. Thank you, Darling." She hugged him tightly then kissed his lips again and again. The sweetly innocent kisses deepened into something more. There was a need in their caress. Their kisses grew hungrier, their touch more heated. The desire which had brought them together all those years ago had never waned. no matter the years that passed between them, Jonathan had never stopped wanting his hands on her body. Jennifer never stopped needing to feel him moving within her, the heat in his gaze scorching her.

They came together now. Leaving a trail of clothing and mild disaster in their wake as they moved blindly across the suite. They couldn't bear to stop kissing, stop touching each other for even a second. His senses were filled with her, her thoughts overwhelmed with him. Something soft bumped their knees and at first, they didn't know if it was bed or sofa but they tumbled onto it just the same.

Jonathan had the presence of mind to twist their bodies on the way down so that he absorbed the impact and she landed safely on top of him. Protecting her was something he did as automatically as he breathed, it didn't require thought or intent, it simply was. Now as they sank into the bed together he fell even more in love with her again. Every time he thought that he loved her as much as one human being was capable of loving, he found a way to love her more.

Jennifer felt his love, the tenderness in his care, no less than the heat in his kiss. He was her safe place as she was his wild one. This was the true strength of their marriage. His need to protect her made her stronger, not weaker. And now, as he moved over her, and in her, she looked in his eyes and felt the love they were making expand into something so much larger than just the two of them. Their joining made them part of the river of life, rushing, tumbling, ever-flowing to the ocean.

They fell asleep still joined together, only slipping apart after hours of sleep. And in the morning their bodies found their way together again almost before they were fully awake. There was a sweetness in their lovemaking as the sun rose through the window, no less intense than last night, but slower, richer. They dawdled over their waking just in case they were dreaming together.

Breakfast was a hurried affair after their slow waking up. They both knew without speaking that they wanted to spend this day with Charlie, and Jonathan called for the Towncar again as soon as they finished eating. Mid-morning found them sitting in the Mother Superior's office at MIssion Street, inquiring about taking the boy out for the day.

It was Sister Domenica who brought them to the large sunny dayroom where the children passed their non-school hours. Charlie was draped over a squashy chair, the same paperback in his hands and Jennifer marveled that only 24 hours had passed since their first meeting.

"Hello, Charlie," Jennifer spoke with quiet confidence in their decision. There would be paperwork, and interviews, and the inevitable delays of any governmental bureaucracy, but she knew this child would be theirs, that he was meant for them as surely as if he had been born to them. She only hoped that yesterday's trauma hadn't linked them forever with pain in Charlie's mind. "Jonathan and I were wondering if you wanted to come out with us for a while. Maybe see a movie and have some lunch." She deliberately didn't touch the boy, wanting to give him time to process his feelings. But Charlie had no such reservations, he dropped his book and ran into her arms. Unlike her fears, Charlie saw them as his only shelter in a horrific day.

Many foster kids wanted only to return to the family of their birth, preferring the familiarity of chaos and pain over the unknown even when it was pleasant, but Charlie was different. He had harbored no desire to return to his parents. He had only approached them at the gate that day to tell them to leave him alone. But they had grabbed him, covering his mouth so he couldn't cry out and dragging him away before the Sisters noticed what was happening.

Sister Domenica and Sister Dorcas and the others had opened his mind to a world of possibilities and he knew he didn't want to end up like Willie and Crystal. Jennifer and her husband were kind. They obviously didn't have to beg strangers for change or scrounge through dumpsters for food. He hoped they would take him to the library, or maybe the zoo. He had read about all the animals at the zoo when he was first learning to read, Sister Domenica patiently waiting for him to sound out the names under each picture.

"Yes, ma'am." He answered politely the way Sister Rebecca had taught him. He couldn't know how the simple phrase would affect Jennifer, his 'ma'am' sounding so similar to 'mom' but worlds apart. She hugged him close, furiously blinking back a sudden rush of tears before anyone could see. Only Jonathan, who knew her body language better than his own, noticed the sudden tension in her body and laid a steadying hand on her shoulder.

After the zoo, with a lunch of hot dogs and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets with french fries, they stopped by the Barnes & Noble. Jonathan had decided that Mission Street should have a library of its own so that all of the children could have free access to books. He had spoken to Sister Domenica to confirm how much space they had for such a venture and ordered shelf units, now they faced the pleasant prospect of stocking it.

"Charlie, would you please take Jennifer upstairs to the kid's section and help her start picking out some good books? I'll be up as soon as I speak to the manager." Jennifer loved the easy way he had with Charlie. The way he knelt down to the boy's level, and how he put Charlie in charge to make him feel important. She knew she already loved the child but it would take her some time and practice before she could just reach out and casually tousle his hair the way Jonathan did.

Charlie was having a blast. Jennifer had staked out an unused table in the children's area and started stacking up all of the books he selected. Every time he found a new one he liked he would bring it to her and shyly ask if he could add it to the growing pile. Every choice had a small story of why he chose it and who it was for. She learned a little bit more about him with each small confidence.

For herself, Jennifer made it a priority to seek out the series' and chapter books that she had loved as a child. Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prarie. Madeline, and Mark Twain, and Marguerite Henry. By the time Jonathan appeared with a manager pushing a wheeled library cart, the small table was almost visibly groaning under the piles of books.

"It looks like I got here just in time," he exclaimed.

"Is it too much?" Charlie looked suddenly worried.

"No it isn't, we have a lot of shelves to fill. I promised Sister Domenica enough books to fill a library and she assured me that you are the man for the job." The fearful look had melted off of Charlie's face as soon as Jonathan had begun to speak. By the time he finished, the boy was grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, yes sir. I can do that." He scampered happily back into the stacks.

"You are so good with him." Jennifer marveled.

"He's a great kid. I think your instincts were right on, Darling. He's very easy to love."

"He's so bright too, Jonathan. Sister Domenica said he couldn't read at all nine months ago, now he's reading young adult novels, two or three a week. And he can read music also."

"Speaking of Sister Domenica, I spoke to her about the possibility of adopting Charlie. It turns out that the Mission Street Orphanage is a private agency, not a state institution. That means they have the power to expedite the process somewhat given our history with them. It will take a few months for all of the paperwork, and we still have to do some interviews. But we can take him for a weekend visit if you would like."

"Darling, that would be wonderful. That way he can meet Max and Freeway."

"Tomorrow is Thursday, We can fly out in the morning and bring him back Monday," Jonathan promised.

Charlie had finally succeeded in filling the rolling cart thoroughly. Jonathan handed the boy his credit card prompting another huge grin.

"Why don't you and the manager take these down to the register and get started and we will be along in a minute." Jonathan suggested.

"Your credit card?" Jennifer asked dryly. "Aren't you a little worried he might lose it?"

"I guarantee that card will still be clutched in his fist when we get there. It's going to take at least thirty minutes for them to ring up all those books. I thought we could select a few to keep separate so he will have some at our place. Sister Rebecca says he has only read the first two Harry Potters and none of the Hunger Games yet. Or maybe some Isaac Asimov, apparently he is a big fan of sci-fi." They quickly selected the chosen novels and Jennifer took them to another register while Jonathan went to join Charlie at register one. As predicted, the cashier was only halfway through the great piles of books and Charlie held onto the credit card tightly. He looked so proud of himself that Jonathan gave the clerk a nod when they finally rang up the last of the books.

"Thank you, Sir. May I have your credit card please?" The young man said to the boy. Charlie's grin threatened to split his face in two as he puffed out his chest and looked for Jonathan's approval before he handed the card across the counter. Once the receipt had been signed for and Jennifer had rejoined them with her own bag of goodies, Jonathan confirmed the delivery address. The manager assured them the boxes would be delivered to the orphanage by 6.

Charlie couldn't stop talking about the books he had chosen, who would be most excited about which ones, and how they would arrange them on the shelves. The Harts took him to a restaurant that specialized in build-your-own burgers and super-thick milkshakes for supper. Back at the orphanage, they arrived to happy chaos as children carried boxes and stacks of books from the delivery truck into the new library.

Workmen had spent much of the day turning the former storeroom into a bright, cheerful space, with shelves along the walls and comfortable chairs and beanbags scattered around. While Jennifer had been helping Charlie choose books Jonathan had arranged for several new computers to be delivered with study carrels and an assortment of learning software and games. But for Charlie, the best moment was when Sister Domenica revealed to lettering freshly painted on the door, which read 'The Charlie Grant Library'. Tears filled the boy's eyes and he buried his face in Jennifer's jacket again.

Once things had calmed down as much as possible. The Harts sat down with Sister Domenica and Charlie in the little sitting area of Mother Superior's office.

"Charlie, Jonathan and I were wondering if you would like to come and spend a few days at our house?"

"That would be super! Oh wow! Can I? I mean ... Sister, may I go, please?" The nun kept a tight rein on her smile as she nodded at the boy.

"You may go, but you must pack tonight as the Harts will pick you up quite early in the morning. Say your goodnights and run along now."

"Goodnight Mr. Hart, Goodnight Mrs. Hart, thank you for such a great day." As he addressed each of them he shook Jonathan's hand and gave Jennifer a big hug. "Goodnight Sister, thank you for letting me go."

After he left and closed the door, Sister Domenica opened a file folder and handed over a sheaf of papers for the two of them to sign granting them temporary guardianship of Charlie. Jonathan noticed that she filled today's date in the first space but wrote 'until revoked' in the second space before she passed the stack across to him. Once the papers had been signed, copied, and filed, with a set of copies handed over to the Harts, they said their goodnights and returned to their hotel room.

Jonathan was already in bed when Jennifer emerged from the bathroom in a short robe of dove grey silk. It was one he hadn't seen before. That in itself was a surprisingly rare occurrence, as he bought her so many negligees that she rarely needed to add anything to her lingerie chest. She must have been saving this one for a special occasion and he took the time to admire it thoroughly. The silk was so finely woven as to be nearly sheer with dyed-to-match lace trim on the hem and sleeves.

She paused by his side of the bed for dramatic effect and he saw his opening. Reaching for her waist he untied the sash very slowly, letting the silk ribbons slide through his fingers as the robe fell open. Her hair had gotten long again he noticed, and the thick red curls fell past her shoulders. He loved her hair long like this, it framed her face so softly.

She moved slightly and the robe slid down her arms to land in a puddle on the floor. His heart was racing a mile a minute and his mouth was suddenly dry at the sight of the slip-style gown skimming over her curves. She reached to click off the bedside lamp, leaving only a soft glow spilling from the bathroom, the outline of her legs backlit through the fine silk. She stepped out of her slippers and into the bed and his waiting arms.

The traffic sounds outside the window were soon drowned out

by his breathing. He moved to lie down but she stilled him with a touch, so he was sitting upright, pillows piled behind his back to soften the heavy wooden headboard. She knelt over him, silk sliding beneath his fingers. the scent of her perfume driving him crazy.

Her kisses were sweet on his lips. He couldn't stop running his hands over her body. Going from cool, slippery silk to her warm skin, his fingertips were sending braille messages of pleasure to his brain. And he touched her as a blind man would. Gently. Devouring her with his fingertips as if seeing her anew. She sat quietly, watching him, watching his hands moving on her body.

There was a time not long past when she would not have been comfortable just letting him look at her, or having the lights on when they made love. But since she had hit the backside of her 40's things had changed. She realized that she truly didn't care what other people thought. The only people she had to please were Jonathan and herself. Jonathan already thought she was beautiful so she really only had to accept herself. It hadn't happened overnight, she still tended to see only the flaws when she looked in her mirror. And Jonathan's gaze still made her blush and want to squirm but she took a deep breath and forced herself to remain still.

Jonathan didn't know what had brought about the recent changes in her attitude. He only knew that he liked looking at her. Whether she was puttering in the garden, reading aloud to him, or making love like they were right now, he couldn't help but stare. She was so lovely. Even after eleven years of marriage, he was still floored by her beauty.

It took only a slight shift on her part for him to slip inside her, his hands skimming under her gown, once again letting his fingertips guide him. Inch by inch he stroked her soft skin, watching the way her eyes flared when he touched her like this, how her pulse raced when he kissed her that way. They moved together with the ease of old lovers seeing each other with new eyes. They fell asleep tangled together in the middle of the big bed.

 Jonathan awoke to the sensation being watched. Jennifer, never an early riser at the best of times, was staring at him. A glance out the window showed an indigo sky, barely touched with pink and gold.

"What are you doing awake so early?" He groaned and tried to pull the pillow over his head.

"I can't help it, I'm excited."

"Well go back to sleep. It's too early."

"No, it's not, the sun is coming up. What time is it anyway?"

"It's half past too damn early." But she would not be swayed and eventually, he gave up and got into the shower.

"Darling is the shampoo out there? I can't find it."

"Here you go." Her slender arm thrust the black bottle past the curtain.

"Why don't you come in here and soap my back for me?" He teased, but she moved out of reach.

"I want to get going. I'm going to order room service. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Darling, the kitchen won't even be open for another forty minutes. Besides, I'm sure Charlie is going to be hungry so we will get some breakfast after we pick him up. At worst, we can eat on the plane. I know you are excited, I am too, but we cannot pick the boy up at 5:15. I told Sister Domenica we would be there around seven."

"Seven!" She exploded. "What am I going to do for another hour and a half?"

"See. Back to my original suggestion. I could still use some help washing my back." He pulled the curtain open and dangled the loofah. She sighed theatrically then dropped her robe with a teasing smile.

 "Didn't I promise you we'd be on time?" The Towncar pulled up in front of the orphanage at four minutes to seven.

"Well, we wouldn't have made it if there had been an accident or something."

"But there wasn't."

"But there could have been." She insisted with a teasing smile, unwilling to concede that he had been right.

"Oh, you ..." He playfully reached to throttle her which somehow became a kiss. She jumped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop, even before he could come around and open the door for her. Charlie was waiting just inside the lobby, a suitcase at his feet and the floppy ear of a stuffed toy hanging out of the zipper of his hoodie.

"You came back." He hurried to hug Jennifer and shake Jonathan's hand.

"Were you afraid we wouldn't?" Jennifer asked him now.

"Well, I hoped you would." He was staring at his shoes like he had never seen them before and Jennifer's heart broke all over again for him. She knelt down on the floor heedless of her skirt and gathered the boy into her embrace.

"I will never break a promise to you." She told him solemnly. "Neither will Jonathan. Not ever. Okay?"

"Pinky swear?" Charlie asked just as solemnly, holding out his fist.

"Pinky swear." She hooked her little finger around his and their smiles looked remarkably similar as Jonathan helped her to her feet. They both turned to say good morning to Sister Domenica.

"I won't keep you, I know you have a schedule to keep. Charlie, behave yourself and be helpful. Go with God" She made the sign of the cross as they moved back toward the car.

Suddenly a boisterous crowd of kids spilled through the doors, surrounding Charlie and the car, all of them telling him good-bye and thanking the Harts for their new library. Sister Domenica gave them a chance to say their piece and then blew two short blasts on the whistle hanging around her neck. The kids obediently lined up by the door and waved excitedly as the Towncar pulled away.

Jonathan was correct about Charlie being hungry, the boy had been too nervous to eat much breakfast. Rather than continue to keep their driver tied up, he called ahead to the Amoura Cafe inside the airport terminal and ordered a selection of breakfast sandwiches to go, then called Frank and asked him to pick them up en route to the plane.

Charlie had never flown and he was craning his neck wildly trying to see everything as they approached the airport.

"Hey, look. That plane says Hart Industries on the side. That's like your name."

"That's our jet," Jonathan explained. "Hart Industries is our company and we do business all over the world. The jet lets us get wherever we need to be."

"Cool." The boy sounded awed as they pulled up next to the rolling staircase. The tarmac was already smelling hot and sticky as Frank came down to help with the luggage and Jennifer took Charlie aboard. They were sharing bacon and egg sandwiches and a bowl of grapes when Frank and Jonathan came aboard for takeoff.

After the jet had reached cruising altitude and they were able to move around Jonathan took Charlie on a tour of the plane culminating in the cockpit where Frank let him sit in the co-pilot's seat and 'fly' the plane. Charlie often seemed older than he was but this morning Jennifer glimpsed the little boy who had just embarked on what would become a lifelong love of flying. Jonathan looked almost like a little boy too, introducing the next generation to his favorite hobby.

The two of them spent most of the flight in the tiny cockpit. Jonathan gallantly folding himself into the tiny jump seat so Charlie could stay in the co-pilot's chair.

"Missus Hart, Missus Hart. Mr. Hart and Captain Frank showed me how the plane works and I got to help FLY!" Charlie's hair was even more disheveled than usual from the headset and he was hopping from one foot to the other in his excitement.

"Mrs. Hart sounds awfully formal. How about if you call us Jennifer and Jonathan." She suggested.

"I don't think Sister Rebecca would like that." He told her seriously. "She says it's disrespectful to call adults by their first name."

"Well then, let's compromise and say Aunt Jennifer and Uncle Jonathan? I'm sure Sister Rebecca would agree with that. And when we land you will get to meet our good friend Uncle Max, he takes care of us. And our dog Freeway will be at the house."

"Oh wow, a dog! You guys sure are lucky."

"I wasn't much older than you when I learned that the harder I worked, the luckier I got," Jonathan said, coming up behind him.

"What's that mean?"

"I'll explain it later. Right now we need to get this luggage unloaded. Do you think you can carry Aunt Jennifer's suitcase if I carry your's?"

"Sure but how come Aunt Jennifer can't carry her own?"

"She could, but we carry it for her because it's polite to always help a lady if you can. We do nice things for people to show them that we care. Just like you did such a good job picking out those books for your friends because you care about them." Jennifer watched him struggle manfully with her heavy bag, but when she would have intervened to help him, Jonathan held up a hand to stop her.

"Let him try." He told her quietly. "He'll ask for help if he needs it."

"But, the stairs, they're so steep. What if he falls?"

"He knows how to be careful, Darling. Besides, Max is there." He kissed her thoroughly then grabbed his own suitcase and Charlie's much smaller one and followed the boy down the stairs.

Her 'menfolk' were already in the Bentley when Jennifer exited the jet. Once again, Charlie was in the front seat and Jonathan in the back. Max let her into the back with Jonathan then sat down behind the wheel. Jennifer leaned forward and tapped Charlie on the shoulder.

"Put your seatbelt on, sweetie."

"Yes, ma'am" Once they made it to the northbound 405 Jennifer quietly asked Jonathan about her suitcase.

"He carried it all the way to the car and even insisted on putting it in the trunk by himself. He may not be very strong yet but he is tough and that's even better. A man can become strong but tough is something you are either born with or you're not."

 Predictably Charlie loved Freeway and Freeway loved Charlie. They had to play fetch and run around for an hour before they were both worn out enough that Jennifer could show Charlie his room and where to put his things. She put the new books they had gotten him on the nightstand and helped him put his clothes in the dresser. He was excited about reading the next Harry Potter book and asked if he could start right away.

"Of course you can. You know, there's a really comfortable reading chair downstairs, next to the fireplace. Why don't you check it out and I'll call you when lunch is ready. And think about what you would like to do tomorrow."

"Do you think we could go fishing? I've seen it on TV and I've always wanted to try it."

"I think that sounds like a great idea." Jennifer left him to explore the magical world of Hogwarts and she went to seek out Jonathan.

"We can go to Calabasas Lake or Echo Park." He suggested.

"Oh Darling, let's go to Calabasas. Echo Park always gets so crowded. After lunch, we can take Charlie to the sporting goods store and pick him up a fishing rod and waders."

"You know what, I have an even better idea. We haven't taken the Romance out in a while. Why don't we make a night of it? We can sail out to Catalina Island tomorrow, do some fishing, and spend the night on the boat. We'll sail back on Sunday. You think Charlie will like boats as much as he likes planes?"

"I think Charlie will like anything you show him. He seems to have taken a real shine to you." Jennifer smiled. She could already picture them out on the Romance, Jonathan patiently teaching Charlie how to sail. "We had better pick up some deck shoes for him too. His sneakers won't do once they get wet. I wouldn't want him to slip."

"You figure out whatever he needs, Darling. I'll fill Max in on our plans and then I'll call Sal at the marina to get the boat ready."

"Oh Jonathan, this is going to be so much fun. What a wonderful idea you had."

"Well, what can I say? When I'm inspired, I'm inspired."

"Don't I know it." Jennifer quipped with a smile.

  The day was perfect, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The sun was blazing hot but there was a fresh breeze blowing over the water that kept the temperature comfortable. Charlie was entranced by everything, and he soaked up Jonathan's instructions like a sponge. In the six hours it took to sail to the island he learned to tie a Bowline and a Sheet Bend almost better than Jennifer. And he didn't mix up his 'ports' and his 'starboards' the way she did either.

Max had packed them a picnic hamper with enough food to last two weeks, not two days. They dropped anchor in Big Fisherman's Cove and Jennifer taught him to fish for yellowfin tuna.

"Yellowfin can grow to be as much as 400 pounds." She explained to Charlie. "But the biggest I ever caught was 86 pounds."

"86 pounds! That's heavier than me!" The boy enthused, looking particularly cute in his bright yellow life jacket.

"The next time you come we will have to go snorkeling," Jennifer told him.

"Really? You'd let me come back again?" The combined look hope and fear on his face broke her heart.

"Of course we would. How else would we be able to go snorkeling?" She tried to keep her tone light even though everything in her wanted to grab him and never let go. It was an odd feeling for Jennifer. She had never expected to want a child. But then Jonathan Jr. had come into their lives for an all too brief period. His mother had claimed he was Jonathan's son and for a few weeks, he had stayed with them even though Jonathan knew the boy wasn't his child.

They had even talked about taking him in permanently, but his mother had admitted the truth and he had gone home with her. But something about the way he had hugged her goodnight. Or thrust his hand into hers before crossing the street, like it was the most natural thing in the world, had set off all these new feelings in her. She thought maybe if she ignored it, it would pass eventually. But now she knew, it hadn't passed at all, only gone dormant for a time.

She suspected it was much the same for Jonathan. She recognized that far-off look in his eyes when they visited with friends who had children. It was probably harder for him, she reasoned. He had known for years that he couldn't have children. At least she got to make the choice. And now she thought, maybe it had worked out for the best. Maybe Jonathan Jr. was never meant to be theirs, only to pave the way for Charlie. After all, Jonathan Jr. had a mother who loved him very much. Charlie had no one.

Suddenly her line twitched and the rod bent sharply.

"Come here," she said to him now. "Help me land this one." He obediently took his place in front of her and she showed him how to let the line play out a ways and then reel it back in until the fish got tired. She kept her hands on the rod to make sure the fish didn't pull him overboard but otherwise let him reel it in to where Jonathan was waiting with the net.

That night they dined on fresh tuna steaks that Jonathan grilled on the little hibachi grill and some fresh zucchini that he and Charlie sliced from Max's picnic hamper. With a little more digging, Jennifer unearthed a bag of marshmallows and chocolate bars. Max's care package was looking more and more like Mary Poppins' magic bag. They sat up on deck making s'mores and looking at the stars until Charlie was falling asleep against the railing.

In the morning they docked in the marina to do a little sightseeing on the island and had lunch at the Harbor Reef restaurant before sailing for home. Charlie was so excited, telling Max all about reeling in the tuna and roasting marshmallows and his first time tasting crab at lunch. He fell asleep soon after a late supper, and Max and the Harts held a quiet meeting in the kitchen after he was put to bed.

"If you're not ready to make a decision that's fine, but I wanted to see where we all stand on the subject. Jennifer?"

"I vote yes, but you knew that already. Max? You are the one who hasn't had a chance to spend much time with him."

"Well it doesn't take much does it? He seems like a great kid. I say yes. Mr. H?"

"I guess that makes three yesses. I'll talk to the Mother Superior when we fly him back tomorrow."

"Oh Jonathan, do we really have to take him back there? He feels like part of the family already. I don't want to give him up." Her eyes were suspiciously bright all of a sudden, he could see how hard she was trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry, Darling. I'll miss him too. But that was the agreement. We have to follow the rules." He came around the table and stooped to wrap his arms around her. "We will talk to the Mother Superior tomorrow and find out what we need to do next. Come to bed, Darling. Everything will happen the way it needs to." Max got up and began closing up the house as Jonathan took her hand and they walked up the stairs together.

Charlie was sound asleep when they looked in on him. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban open on his chest. Jonathan slipped the bookmarker in and laid the book aside on the night table while Jennifer bent down and kissed the boy's sun-browned cheek. She was starting to understand what people meant when they said that a child was a choice to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

It was inconceivable that a boy she hadn't even met a week ago could have become such a huge part of her life. She waited in the doorway as Jonathan bent and kissed the boy's cheek as well and clicked off the bedside lamp, casting the room in shadow. They left the door open a crack so a tiny bit of light from the hall spilled in just in case he woke in the night.

In her dressing room, Jonathan handed her a large, pale pink gift box that she immediately recognized as being from the seamstress who made all of her lingerie.

"I was saving this for our anniversary but I think you need it more tonight." Jonathan always knew how and when to cheer her up. She lifted the lid off the box and folded back the tissue to find a negligee of the sheerest silk she had ever seen, in a delicate rose gold color that shimmered softly as the light played over the fabric.

Bias cut, it draped into a soft vee between her breasts when she dropped it over her head. It was so sheer that he could have counted her freckles through it if it wasn't also backless all the way down to her dimples. It was in the simple column style of a 1930's evening gown with a slit up one thigh. It was at once incredibly elegant and sexy as hell. She spent an extra moment primping in front of her mirror, putting on a fresh swipe of copper lipstick and adding a spritz of Jonathan's favorite perfume in her hair. The extra effort was worth it when she saw the look on his face.

"I knew it would be beautiful on you, but Wow." She performed a small pirouette for him, the back view rendered him incapable of further speech. She somehow looked even more nude than if she had actually been naked.

"Dance with me," He said.

"There's no music." She countered. He held up the little remote control to the stereo and the soft strains of Ed Sheeran's Perfect began. They danced so often that now they looked effortless moving together. But after the first chorus, the song shifted. The new voice was deeper, richer somehow. And singing in Italian.

"Bocelli?" She asked

"Is there any other?"

"Spero che un giorno, l'amore che ci ha accompagnato. Diventi casa la mi famiglia, diventi noi." She sang quietly to him.

"You are so beautiful." This was one of a thousand reasons why she loved him. He told her constantly how beautiful she was, but somehow he always sounded like it was the first time he was seeing her. His heart was pounding when she laid her head on his chest and the scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. He breathed deeply. That sweet, slightly spicy scent never failed to affect him.

To him she was beautiful. Not beautiful like those vapid, empty faces in magazines. She was beautiful for the fire in her eyes and the kindness of her heart. She was beautiful for the way she made people smile, even though no one was allowed to see her cry. She was beautiful beyond the transience of her physical attractiveness. That was what he saw when he looked at her.

"You look so lovely that it's almost a shame not to take you out somewhere, but in this outfit, you would start a riot."

"Just take me to bed, Darling. You are all I ever need," He did as she asked and they made love to the music of Jennifer's favorite Italian tenor.

  The Harts tried to maintain a cheerful atmosphere on the Gulfstream the next morning. They didn't want to distress the rest of his holiday with their dismay at having to give him up. The flight north was made even shorter by a tailwind coming up from Baja, an early precursor to the coming Santa Anas. Fortunately, this time Charlie spent much of the trip with his nose in his book.

"I'm trying to finish before we land." He told Jennifer earnestly. "I've got to see how it ends."

"Charlie, are you under the impression that you have to give your books back?" She asked him. "Those are yours, we got them for you. Plus, there's a complete set in the new library as well."

"Really? I can keep them? That's so neat. Thank you."

"I wish I could satisfy you that cheaply." Jonathan teased her quietly when Charlie had returned to his pages. "That whole stack of books cost less than one of your handbags."

"I don't know, I think you satisfied me pretty well last night. Several times." She whispered back with a smile. Once they were back at Mission Street, Charlie was excitedly telling the other kids about his adventures. When he told them about flying the plane and sailing to Catalina some of them didn't believe him until Jennifer handed him the thick envelope of photos she had taken, thankful she had the foresight to order an extra set.

The shot of him sitting in the co-pilot's seat, wearing the enormous headset and backed by fluffy clouds through the canopy drew envious comments from several children and a very admiring look from one little girl. Jonathan noticed her staring and nudged Jennifer.

"Looks like Charlie has got himself a girlfriend."

"Whether he wants one or not." She responded just as Sister Domenica came in with the Mother Superior.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hart, would you step into the office, please? I don't need to ask if young Mr. Grant had a good time. What about you two? Did you enjoy your visit with him?" The Reverend Mother asked them.

"We hated to see it end. Charlie is a wonderful boy. We have already discussed it and we would like to know what our next steps need to be in order to adopt him permanently." Jonathan took Jennifer's hand as he spoke.

"I know that Sister Domenica told you a little bit about our vetting procedures and policies. This is rather a special case given your history with our agency. That, combined with the lack of any remaining Grant family members does simplify things considerably. So the question I need to ask you now is, How soon would you be looking to take custody of him permanently?"

"Today!" Jennifer interjected quickly. "We would like nothing more than to take him back home with us."

"Is that your feeling as well, Jonathan?"

"It is, Reverend Mother."

"If you both are certain this is how you want to proceed then we can move forward immediately. There will be the necessary follow-ups and interviews before it will be finalized. It takes a minimum of one year because we are required to conduct interviews at six and twelve months before the judge will sign the adoption decree but we can transfer Charlie's custody to you as 'pending' adoption."

"We would appreciate that very much, if Charlie is willing to have us."

"I don't think that will be a problem. Sister Domenica, would you fetch Mr. Grant for us please?"

"Of course Reverend Mother." It only took a few seconds since the kids were all still clustered in the lobby passing around Charlie's photos.

"Mr. Grant, I take it you enjoyed your time with the Harts?"

"Yes, Reverend Mother. It was loads of fun! And they have this dog named Freeway, he knows how to play fetch."

"That sounds lovely. The Harts have expressed an interest in having you visit again, maybe permanently. Do you think you would like that?"

"Oh yes, Reverend Mother. That would be neato. I mean ... I would like that very much, ma'am." Charlie corrected himself. He had moved closer to Jennifer as the conversation progressed and now he was standing right beside her chair.

"Reverend Mother, if I might say something." Jonathan waited for her nod before continuing. "Charlie, I'm sure you would like time to say goodbye to your friends and pack your things. And Jennifer and I have a couple of errands to run. How about if we come back at, let's say four o'clock. We can have supper together here and leave after that. Does that sound good? And would that be all right with you Reverend Mother?" She nodded once more, but Charlie pressed even closer to Jennifer, his eyes glistening. Jennifer took both of his hands in her and looked straight into his eyes.

"Charlie, I promise you we will come back. We are not going to leave you. We will not leave you. You can go get your things packed and we will come back in a few hours and we'll have a little going away party for you and your friends. Okay?" He nodded and hugged her tightly before he turned and left the room.

"Mrs. Hart, that was lovely, you handled him just right. You are an excellent mother." Now it was Jennifer's eyes that watered at the older nun's praise.

"Reverend Mother, we would like to bring some food and treats for all of the children tonight. Would that be all right?" Jonathan spoke for both of them.

"That sounds lovely. I'm sure the children will enjoy it."

They said their goodbyes and left the orphanage. It wasn't until they were pulling out of the driveway that Jennifer turned to him and asked the question that had been on her mind for the last 20 minutes.

"What errands do we need to run? I hated to leave Charlie there."

"Darling, he will be fine. He needs a chance to say goodbye to his friends and that wouldn't happen if we were there hovering over him. Besides, I thought we should do something special to mark the occasion. Charlie isn't a puppy we are picking up from the pound. He deserves a special memory of the day."

"You're right, of course, I hadn't thought about it that way. I am just so happy to be taking him home with us."

 When the Harts returned to Mission Street at four p.m. it was clear that all of the children were excited at the prospect of a party. Hastily colored construction paper signs had been taped up on the cafeteria walls saying 'GOOD LUCK CHARLIE' and 'WE'LL MISS YOU'. Jennifer brought in a cake and Jonathan carried a large stack of pizzas for everyone.

After the leftover pizza had been cleared and the last slice of cake eaten, Jonathan selected several of the oldest kids to help him bring in 'a few more things'.

"Since this is kind of like a birthday but not exactly, we thought there should be birthday presents but not exactly. So today we are giving the presents to you instead of the other way around." Jennifer announced as the first armload of gaily wrapped packages was brought in. Silently she blessed the extremely organized nuns who had provided them with a list of all the children's names and ages along with a brief description of their interests and hobbies.

It had been a hectic few hours at a large warehouse store purchasing everything, and then they still needed to have time for the additional stop Jonathan wanted to make. But they had managed. There was one little high school girl at the warehouse store who heard what they were doing and called her whole squad of cheerleaders to come and gift wrap all of the presents in record time.

Once all of the gifts had been handed out and opened, the Reverend Mother called for silence and asked Charlie and the Harts to come to the front of the room.

"Charlie, when Jennifer and I were married we gave each other rings as a symbol of our commitment to each other. Today we are committing to you. So we want to ask you 'officially' if you would accept us as your parents?" As Jonathan finished speaking Jennifer slipped the little box from her purse and opened it. It was a simple gold band very similar to Jonathan's wedding band, sized down to fit a child's finger. The jeweler had managed to rush the inscription, winding around the outside of the ring because the inside was too small were all three of their initials, as well as their signature double heart symbol. But now that double heart had a plus symbol next to it and a third heart.

Charlie couldn't speak but he nodded his head fiercely as Jennifer slid the small band onto his ring finger. Sister Domenica was especially moved by the little ceremony. She had cared for many children during her years at Mission Street and had been especially attached to a few, but only Jonathan had given her a sort of roller coaster and lightning feeling in her stomach. That was until Charlie Grant had come to the orphanage. She had only hoped to convince Jonathan to mentor the boy, but apparently, God had bigger plans in mind. She had no doubt that Charlie would go on to make as big an impact on the world as his new father had.