#dark brown shag rug

[rowbutt]

Dining Room in Salt Lake City Ideas for a medium-sized, rustic-style great room renovation without a fireplace and beige walls

[bluedoveyellowsun]

Transitional Family Room in Chicago

[belinda-amy]

Enclosed (Houston)

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Four

TW: NSFW, inappropriate use of handcuffs, angst

Tom picks you up from your shift, and you ride in silence. The uncomfortable, we need to talk, prickly silence that has your bones feeling weirdly placed and your teeth achy with unsaid words. His mouth and your mouth combined? Quiet between the two? Strange. You both know something’s up. Maybe even more than one something. 

When you get into your place, he goes to use the restroom, and you meander around cleaning a little bit—putting some dishes away and rearranging your coat rack and making sure your recently neglected plants aren’t dying dry deaths. 

“Sorry, guys,” you whisper, filling them up and eyeing the leaves for any browning spots, spraying the orchids’ tangled roots with water and a little plant food. You pause at the dark purple orchid from Julian, realizing there’s still a smear of your dried blood on the pot. Roses love to eat blood and bone. You’re not so sure about orchids. It’s hard not to think of Julian, when you look at the beautiful plant, but you can’t quite bring yourself to get rid of it yet. It’s not the orchid’s fault, after all.  

“You just keep getting cuter,” Tom says, smirking from the kitchen doorway. 

“They’re living things,” you reply, sticking your tongue out. 

“You know, I worked a case once where a lady had a lot of plants.”

You shoot him a raised brow. “Was she poisoning someone with one?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, that fast growing, uncut dark shag probably due for a haircut soon. Shame, you kinda like it a little longer. “See, it just makes me even more suspicious that you know that.” 

“Am I a suspect now, Officer Ludlow?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Easy, Poison Ivy, don’t make me get the cuffs.” 

“Poison Ivy, really?” 

He shrugs. “What? She’s hot. You’re hot. You both love plants. Got that fiery temper.” Wink.

“And you’re what, Batman?” You crinkle your nose at the comparison. Bruce Wayne ain’t got nothin on Tom Ludlow. Plus, you were never a big fan. Now, Punisher, he’s someone you can admire.

“No. I’m a side character. Poison Ivy’s boyfriend.” 

Do not engage. Do not interact. Do not make eye contact. Did he just call himself… You haven’t had a boyfriend in what, years? Tom Ludlow? Boyfriend? Dating? Your brain might be short circuiting, a rattling tool box of metal getting zapped with a cattle prod, and you stand there, frozen, looking dumb for a good minute until you can compartmentalize and rationalize. 

Tom Ludlow hasn’t really left since that first night you invited him in. His clothes are in your dirty laundry, his shoes are sitting next to yours on the entryway rug, making your sneakers look like kids shoes in comparison, his amazing smell is on everything, his indent is on your bed. He’s just settled himself right in here, and you didn’t even notice. 

“What’s a throw down?” You ask, stupidly, suddenly, not sure why you pick that moment to inquire about this. 

To your credit, it does take him off guard and make him forget about the whole boyfriend thing… For now. “It’s a gun dirty cops carry. Something to throw away in case they shoot someone...unlawfully.”

“Is that…what you have on your ankle?” 

His frown is like a thunderhead, and he probably would have started yelling, if not for how tiny your voice sounded, and the big-eyed bunny look on your face. “No, baby. That’s my backup. In case I lose my other gun. Which, I have. Why are you asking me this?” 

Oh fuck, this was a bad, bad decision. Maybe you should mention the dating conversation again? You turn to face him, trying to seem less suspicious and probably just ranking yourself even higher on his list of suspects. “Brixton, that guy that interviewed me, said you fired it in the store.” 

Nice save—never mind, looks like you’ve personally signed Brixton’s death certificate yourself. You jump in to appease that hostile look curtaining over his face. “It's just..I feel like there’s something up, Tom. Something you’re not telling me?”

You’re such a hypocrite. 

“What does that have to do with my backup?” He asks, great fucking detective that he is, and you’re caught like a rabbit in a metal fox trap, ready to gnaw off its own leg just to get free. And maybe, judging by that suspicious look on his face, you should start digging in sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You throw your hands in the air, maybe a little too dramatically. “I’m just trying to piece this whole thing together, y'know? And if you’re not telling me anything, how can I do that? I saw his face—the man who attempted to murder a cop in cold blood—and I’m scared.” None of that was particularly a lie, but you still feel bad for freaking out on him. 

You feel even worse, when his standoffish attitude melts immediately for you. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby, come here,” he says, holding out his arms to you. 

Once upon a time, with anyone else, you would be an ornery shit and refuse the respective olive branch. But with Tom…you melt too, and before you know it you’ve crossed the tiny kitchen to fill his arms. 

“You’ve taken this whole thing like such a champ, I fucking forget you’re not used to getting shot at,” he says to the top of your head. “M’sorry, baby. I’m working on figuring this all out. I promise you. I’ve got some leads. I gotta find a guy…” He shuts himself up out of habit, not used to sharing details of an ongoing investigation with a civilian. But then he seems to think better of it, considering you’re right in the fucking middle of it too. “I gotta find this guy who might know the shooters. I’m waiting on a call. Got a lead through an inmate in County.”

“Why would an inmate help you?” you mumble into the solid plane of his chest. 

“Because I put him there, and he’s not gettin’ out unless he gets me that name.”

You blink at that, craning your neck to look up at him. “Is that legal?” 

He looks down at you with that Come on look that makes you feel more than a little foolish. 

“Oh.”

You feel the rumble of his amusement from deep in his chest, more than hear it. 

“Is that…always how you really get things done?” you ask, at risk of being made to feel even dumber. “Like, are the official channels really that useless?”

“Pretty much, sweetheart. Learned it the hard way a long time ago. Too many bureaucrats in the LAPD. Not enough people actually willing to get the job done.”

With a long sigh you nod, utterly reluctant to vacate the depression between his pecs. You’re pretty sure it was made just for your head. 

You guess you're about to embark on some back channels of your own to keep him out of trouble. The thought of what Julian might have in store for you makes a shudder of revilement run through you. Tom cranes back to study you, those hawkish eyes narrowed. He knows something’s up. He’s too smart, and you can’t fathom how you’re going to trick him, even if it is for his own good.

You suppose your best bet is distracting him–so you stand on tip toe, and press your lips to his. 

***

He just will not drop it.

He drives you absolutely wild. To the edge of your sanity. To the brink of death. 

This man’s tongue should be considered a lethal weapon. It’s an absolute menace. 

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, yet you can’t help but think to yourself, this is how you die.

“Tom…” you beg. “It’s too much!”

You would have even tried to get up, to get away, to flee, you’re that desperate, but he’s been holding you down with those big beautiful hands, and you are just a quivering mess of a woman at his mercy. Plus, he’s got you cuffed to the post of your bed.

“You can cum anytime you want, sweet girl,” he tells you. “You know what I want to hear.”

“This is…interrogation…under duress.”

“Oooo, someone’s been studying up.”

“Hey, I know…stuff.”

He’s changed tactics, making slow, soft circles with his tongue, just shy of where you need him most. The keening whine it tears from your hoarse throat makes him chuckle against you; a deep, bone-melting sound that you think Satan could take some notes from. 

“You know what I want to hear.”

I’m yours.

“Torturing me into saying it won’t make it true.”

“I already know it’s true, sweetheart. Just want to hear you say it.”

You whimper, your head thrown back into the pillows. So keyed up yet exhausted, too stubborn for your own good. You sense Tom looking up at you, his cheek resting on the soft pillow of your inner thigh. 

“Scare you that much, baby?”

You have to try twice before you can find your voice, suddenly feeling like you downed a fat gulp of Mojave sand. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

He climbs your body, and you are relieved until he sheathes himself inside you, just like that, like this is the place where he belongs. You desperately try to grind against him, knowing you are so close to the edge, but he just pins you with his thick cock kissing your cervix and his elbows on either side of you. 

He kisses your forehead, and its all so tender you could cry.

“You know you’re safe with me?”

“I know.” You mean it, too, even if you sound pitiful.

He sweeps your hair from your face with gentle fingers, looking down at you with a little smile that wrecks your heart. It simply was not fair.

“Then tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure if he means your neuroses in general, or your earlier almost-slip, or…who knows? Discussing any and all of it aloud terrifies you. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Finally, you just frown, and fall back on your favorite word of all time.

“No.”

Miraculously, he doesn’t get mad, like every other man you’ve ever known would have. He just seems to think you’re cute. “You know what?” He muses, tracing your collarbones and making you shiver, “I think,” he follows the dip of your skin, down between your breasts, then under, slow and soft, over your rib cage as you make little strangled gasps, attempting unsuccessfully to writhe—get him frustrated enough to move. “I think you like it when I tease all your worries away.” 

Why does that infuriate you even more? “This isn’t teasing.” Your whining delights him and humiliates you. “This is tortu-ah.” 

He has your pert right nipple tugged between two fingers, rolling the sensitive flesh against rough calluses. The sensation swells into your pussy, and she clenches, exacting her own form of vengeance on Tom, for once on the same side as you—the cum or die side. 

A breath of air hisses from between his teeth, and you grin up at him in triumph. Sure, you’re the one handcuffed to the bed being edged out of your mind, but you know underneath all that cool, collected facade this affects him just as much as it does you. 

“You haven’t seen torture yet.” He says, his smile turning malicious.

“What?” You pant. “Can’t help it that my pussy loves your cock so much, baby.”

He turns peach again, skin absolutely betraying his attitude, and you let loose a sharp giggle that turns to a groaning snarl when he pumps inside of you, slow, not enough. The rhythm he adopts after a minute or two of equally frustrating practice is made for your destruction; more frustrating than just holding him inside, unmoving. 

That languid squelching rub, the slow strokes that make your cunt flood and fatten with plentiful cum, yield to and accommodate its bulky visitor like a good little host should—all of it gets both of you gnashing your teeth and growling like beasts.

In this feral, viscous slide of your bodies, Tom takes your mouth instead of talking, teeth and tongue and spit. None of it would be pretty from an onlooker's perspective, you think, as he swallows the bottom of your face into his big jaws, but fuck, it’s just what you need from him while he works your cunt to a slow, brutal end. 

La petite mort, your brain thinks, surfacing from the sluggish black haze for a moment before you lose it entirely again to a violent, slow orgasm on just his cock. You barely feel the scratchy tickle of his stubble as he buries his face into your neck, biting and licking at your collar, and ending right along with you. 

“Trickster,” he mumbles, hips twitching in finality, length already softening and settling inside you. 

“Who me?” You giggle. 

“Minx,” he growls. 

“Never,” you tease. 

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to say it baby. Might as well just get it over with.” 

“Say what?” You ask, now just trying to piss him off. 

He nibbles the skin of your neck, and you giggle-flinch away. 

“I have to tickle you?” He asks. 

“Swear to God, Tom, I will kill you.” Then, you pout. “These cuffs are kinda uncomfy.” 

He sighs and unlocks you from your metal, cold bondage, then rubs the blood and warmth back into your wrists. “Can I ask you something?” 

You flick your head at him, curious, and push the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you take a little vacation with me? After I’m done with this case? I’d like to take you somewhere. Just us. Anywhere you want. Beach, mountains. I know we’re already right next to the beach, but maybe one with calmer water? They have some nice little bungalows in Florida.” He’s cute, when he’s all rambling and shy and flustered. 

You lean up to kiss him, halting his nerves. “Yeah, I will.” 

“Really?” He asks, grin big and goofy and only missing a long tongue hanging from the side. 

He makes you laugh. The dichotomy of this man. God, you want to eat him. “Yeah. I have unused vacation time anyway. As long as you promise not to secretly be a serial killer.” 

He snorts, probably thinking of the same image that you are: Bull-in-a-china-shop, brutish, forceful, loud Tom trying to be sneaky and malicious in any capacity? It’s just not believable. What you see is what you get with this long, bronze man currently walking butt ass naked to the bathroom and retrieving a damp, warm towel for you to clean up with. 

***

“So, where do you wanna go?” He asks, once you're settled in his arms with the blanket wrapping you up. You think it’s just way too adorable, how he fusses over you. Pushes your hair back from your face, makes sure you’re adjusted and comfortable, makes sure your toes are covered, kisses your forehead. 

“I’ve never been to the mountains,” you suggest, nuzzling your face into his chest and inhaling, trying to memorize him—this moment. 

“Mountains it is,” he grins. “We’ll go hiking.” 

“Do you think we’ll see woodland critters?” You ask hopefully. 

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, “I’ll protect you.”

You laugh into his skin. “Tom, I want to see them. I’m not scared.” 

“What about, I dunno, bears?” 

“Bears are cute.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, as if you’ve really caught him off guard with that one. “You’re something else.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Am I gonna have to hold you back from trying to pet a 700 pound grizzly?” He asks, fingers playing with your shoulder blades. 

You pretend to think about it. “No, but maybe a raccoon….?” 

“Oh my god, go to bed,” he chuckles. “I’m rethinking the mountains.” 

“Oh c’mon!” 

It takes a good hour for you both to get tired enough to fall asleep. The witty banter keeps you awake, like you’re at a teenage slumber party with your best friend. It’s you that drifts off first, because if you don’t get your nine hours you emulate Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. 

[xxcocothekillerxx]

Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T CONTAIN NSFW!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋

💋Chapter 1: A new town💋

It's been over a week now since you and your father have moved to this small town. The feeling of warm, hot and heavy, air and slight stench of garbage filled your nose as you were cleaning and fixing up your room.

The house you and your father picked was interesting, to say the least. Its dull, gray and moldy wallpaper lined most of the walls around the house. Holes and cracks littered the corners of the old building, the windows barely holding up against the breeze that hit them from the outside. The rusty door knobs, simply waiting to give a poor unexpecting victim a staph infection, and the doors themselves are ready to fall off their hinges.

Although your father had fixed up the downstairs area pretty well, painting the walls in a faded out, pastel yellow. Re-painting the door to their original bright white, and fixing up the hinges so they wouldn't fall off. He also bought new kitchenWare, the stove and fridge were nearly brand new and he insisted they were 'fresh out of the factory'. A beautiful dark brown wood table, with matching chairs, sat in between the kitchen and the living room. A pot of lavender and pink poppies in a little white vase, with a sage green cloth underneath it, laid in the middle of the table. Family pictures hanging on parts of the walls, leading over to the living room where a shag carpet and old leather couch sat with those old style TVs.

Your room had (color) wallpaper, with old CDs and photos hung on the walls. You had a nice window and strung a spider plant about it, pinning some of its vines to the side with some books and some toys sitting on the window sill. Your bed was a decent size, enough to hold two people comfortably, and had soft and cozy (color) sheets. The wooden floor was covered with a shag rug, and large plants sat by your doorway and against your bookshelf. You were just finishing up cleaning up and lighting a candle when your father knocked on your door, slightly catching you off guard because you had music playing on your old radio, you quickly turned your music off and opened the bedroom door.

Your father stood there, he slightly adjusted his almost cartoonishly large glasses and then gave a gentle smile. "Hey sweetie.. sorry I don't mean to bother ya' , I just wanted to know if you wanted to come shopping with me real quick?" He joyfully explained, his goofy smile nearly going ear to ear as he looked at you.

"Uh…sure why not" a small smile appears on your face and you gently put down your headphones onto your desk, brushing your (color), hair back behind your ears. You really haven't been out much this week, and it could do you some good to get out for awhile. Your father gives an almost triumphant look as he quickly turns to walk down the hallway, his footsteps getting quieter as he gets further away.

You walked over to your dresser picking out a simple outfit, a teal color tie dye T-shirt, tied at the waist to give a crop top feel and bell-bottom jeans with little colorful flowers near the bottom of the legs and on the back pockets. You then put your white shoes on and headed downstairs to meet up with your father, grabbing some hair ties on the way out and putting them on your wrist before shutting the door behind you. Your father was waiting at the table while looking at a newspaper, his large glasses slightly tilted downwards as he read. His gaze lifted as he heard your footsteps, a gentle and warm smile appearing on his face as he got up from the table.

"Ready?" He says, keys in hand as he tilts his head slightly towards the door. You nod in response, walking towards the door as your father opened it for you. Walking down the steps of the porch, a warm and comforting breeze hits your face. The fresh air quickly running up your nose, a sense of relief from being so cooped up all week makes you feel good and refreshed. The bright blue sky and the sun, only covered lightly with scattered puffy clouds and chirping birds. You take in your surroundings for a brief moment. The sounds of the wind and birds filling your ears as your father walks past you towards the car, his bright striped shirt regaining your attention as you walk to catch up to him, making your way to the passenger side door and opening it. Your father started up the old, Cherry red, 1973 Pontiac Astre. The engine rumbles to life as your father rolls his window down to place his arm on the door, he adjusts the radio to his favorite channel and some new station comes on.

A man starts to speak through the light static “The search continues in Muerto County for a missing University of Texas student. The Sheriff’s department says that Maria Flores, a native of Uvalde, was last seen near the town of Newt more than two months ago. Her vehicle was recently discovered abandoned along Country Road 172, with officials reporting no signs of foul play. Authorities are hopeful that the expanded search into the nearby communities of Harlow and Chinatown will unearth new leads. Family and friends are urging anyone with information regarding her disappearance to please come forward.” The man then proceeded to introduce the forecast of the week and then quickly cut to a popular music station playing 'Can't get enough - Bad company'. You and your father give a concerned glance towards each other before your father starts to drive out onto the road. The wind blowing through your hair, the comforting breeze making you close your eyes and enjoy the ride. Aside from a few random roadkill on the road, the music played loudly in your ears as you slightly danced to yourself as your father jammed to the song and you enjoyed the car ride into town.

Soon you and your father enter the town. Your eyes couldn't help but look around, an old gas station and mechanic shop sat on the right side with some small buildings and stores littered behind them, a few apartment buildings and roller rink sat on the left side with a large school and church sat behind them. You took in the view, not many people were walking around except for a group of teenagers and some adults, some with their little ones, you then noticed the missing person posters scattered on the telephone poles. 'Must be that poor girl from the news station they mentioned' you thought, a sense of sadness slightly washed over you as you felt bad for her family and friends. Your eyes soon wandered over to an older gentleman, he was smiling as a few older lady's. He wore a yellow button up with a blue and red plaid coat, a yellow hat covered his brown hair that clearly was receding and was graying. He had a cane in his hand that he was slightly leaning against as he was, somewhat in a creepy way, talking to the two old ladies. His smile reminds you of a beaver as he talks, however you notice his gaze quickly rising to your car as you drive by, his smile quickly disappears as his locked eyes with you. You quickly felt yourself look away and down at your lap, you felt embarrassed for staring and quickly looked over to your father who was simply paying attention to the road while trying to find a parking spot.

As your father parked the car, he looked over and noticed your uneasiness. "Y/N? You alright?.." he opened the card or on his side, yet waited for your response and sat there. "Y-yea.. sorry" you chuckled, trying to push off the fact you stared at a random old man and got creeped out. Your father nodded and got out of the car, quickly meeting you on the other side as you got out yourself. "Well, I need to grab a few things from the general store and then the post office. Why don'tcha you go take a good look around town… I might be while so." Your father explained, and a big smile on his face and he gently patted your shoulder. You simply nodded as your father walked away to the general store, your eyes quickly wandered over to a clothing store and its bright luring colors. You started to walk down the sidewalk, humming to yourself when you take notice of the same old man you saw before, now sitting on a bench reading a newspaper, except you can't help but notice him side eyeing you from behind the newspaper. You felt a knot in your throat as you started to get close to him, he was sitting next to the store you wanted to go in. You have no clue why he was giving you the creeps, however you swallow your fear and give a warm smile towards the old man.

This seemed to slightly catch him off guard however and nearly made him shove his face into the newspaper, starting to grumble things underneath his breath.

"H-hello sir!" You slightly felt your heart race as the man raised an eyebrow and slowly looked towards you, his dark eyes giving a questionable look as if he was wondering why you're trying to talk to him. However he quickly snaps a smile at you and puts his newspaper down on the bench as he reaches his hand out for a shake. "Nice to meetcha lil' lady.. new around here?" His voice semi cracked as he spoke, you could hear a slight lisp too. "Yes I am.. My name is Y/N!, my father is also here with me.. he's just grabbing a few things" you nervously stated, you quickly shake his hand before politely cupping them together in front of you. The old man nodded as if he understood and or cared before standing up and giving that creepy beaver smile towards you. "Names Drayton, Drayton Sawyer.. My family lives in this town. Though most em ain't the social type…except that boy Johnny." He gave an annoyed look as he rambled, quickly stopping before giving an almost serious look towards you. "Welcome to the town.." he said, his eyes almost dark as he spoke. He then tipped his hat before walking away, you watched as he almost waddled away and then disappeared behind some buildings.

You calmed yourself down slightly before walking into the clothing store, a nice old lady behind the counter gave you a warm and welcoming smile. "Hello dear! Welcome.." she said, her gray hair in a bun behind her head, her sun kissed skin covered with wrinkles. She wore a pretty blue blouse with a blue floral skirt that hit her ankles and her dark blue flats, she adjusted her glasses to better see you as you walked in. You nodded as you looked around the shop at all the cute and somewhat old fashioned clothes, soon you hear three girls walk into the store. A red head wearing a pink plaid button that was tied up slightly above the waist and jean shorts, a dark Brunette with tanner skin wearing and baby blue blouse with a white floral pattern on the chest and tan bell-bottoms, and a dark Brunette wearing a red tank-top with a deep v-neck and yellow sunflower on it and blue jean bell-bottoms. The girls were talking and somewhat giggling to themselves as they walked around the store, although they looked like they were also seriously discussing something as well. They kept quietly chatting to each other before they took notice of you, giving small waves and warm smiles as they began to walk over towards you. The ginger girl quickly speaks up and puts out her hand "hello! My name's Connie! Are you new here??" Her smile warmly grew as you took and shook her hand, you gave her a warm smile back. "Yea.. me and my father live slightly out of town but we're practically on the edge." You said nervously, not knowing if they knew what you were talking about. Quickly the girl in the red v-neck tank top spoke up and said, "oh that old house!? I remember when a lil' old couple used to live there! Gosh! They were so sweet..my name's Julie by the way!" She giggled, and she gave a girly wave at you. You couldn't help but look at the middle girl, your brows slightly furrowed in worry at her quietness before Connie spoke up, "oh.. that's Ana, her sister went missing.. I'm sure you've already seen the posters around town by now." Her smile quickly faded while she spoke, Ana gave a quick half smile before turning around to look at the clothes on the wall. Julie gave a slightly worried look back at Ana before looking at Connie then back at you, "yea.. she's been in rough shape ever since. But she's been determined to find her…" Julie explained, before giving a big smile, "you should meet up with us at the roller rink tonight! It's always Nice to have new friends!" She yelled excitedly, jumping excitedly. Connie also seemed to get excited by this and nodded in agreement, her smile nearly blinding you with excitement. You smiled joyfully at the idea and soon nodded and agreed to join them later at the roller rink. You wanted to explore a little bit more before meeting up with your father again to tell him the news.

A few minutes pass and the three girls soon leave the building with you before they split off into a different direction than you, leaving you alone. You look around and decide to walk down towards the post office to meet up with your father, however as you were walking you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Your eyes darted around and yet you couldn't see anything, you looked behind you and still nothing. You started to walk slightly faster down the street, pushing the feeling off as just being in a new town. Soon enough you make it to the post office as your father is walking out the doors, mail and other papers in his name. He walks slowly as he's ready the envelopes and other pieces of paper, his glasses at the end of his nose and his eyebrows slightly raised as he reads and mumbles to himself. He quickly takes notice of you and fixes his glasses as he opens the car door and puts the mail in the glove compartment, a large smile on his face as you walk over towards the car. "Soooo?!... Anything exciting happens sweetie?" He smiled, his hand on the top of the car door as he leaned against it slightly. You nod and smile, opening your door on the passenger side and getting in. Your father soon follows and sits in the car, closing the door behind him. "Made some new friends!.. they want me to meet up with them later tonight at the roller rink.." you smiled, your father giving you a big hug before laughing triumphantly. "OH! I knew you could do it! Making me so proud.." he smiled before starting up the car and started to drive, you leaned up against the car door and let the wind start to blow through your hair, the feeling of being watched still stayed as you were starting to leave town. Your eyes widened and noticed a figure watching you pass by, an almost sinking feeling as you drove by filled your stomach. Soon the feeling leaves as you drive out of town, the radio blaring music and your father embarrassingly dancing to you. You chuckled to yourself bringing your attention to the sun as it slowly went down, the sky starting to turn pink and shades of purple, A smile slowly appearing on your face as you drove home.

Today was a good day, yet you couldn't shake a weird feeling about that town.

END OF CHAPTER 1

If you got his far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed chapter 1! I know nothing "exciting" happened in this one, however I promise it'll get more interesting as we continue! 💋💋💋

Special Thanks and inspiration - @lil-spider 💋❤️

//CHAPTER 2//

[crystal-cliffs]

I’ve been working on this AU for awhile now and whilst the first chapter is not anywhere near done, yet I wanted to share a snippet from the beginning since I am quite proud of what I’ve managed to write down so far. 👍✨

It’s still subject to change though ofc

Emily pressed her wings flat against her back as she looked at Lute who was a few steps ahead of her. She had been deathly quiet as she led her to her apartment which put Emily on edge. The trial was definitely…a lot, but Lute was so loud then and now she seemed to have effectively shut down. She didn’t really know Lute but it seemed relatively out of character for her.

Lute stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Emily poked her head around and looked into the room as the former exorcist flipped a light switch on. “So this is where you live?” She stepped into the apartment behind Lute.

To her direct left was a small kitchen and to her right a dining room with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It wasn’t the aesthetic Emily expected from Lute but it was still very pretty.

“It’s nice.” She closed the door behind her and set the suitcase she brought against the wall.

Lute stared at her before walking over towards the coffee table without a word.

Emily followed her into the open living room which had a white sectional sofa, a white shag rug, and a light brown coffee table. A large TV was perched above an unlit fireplace and just to the side was a wall of windows with blackout curtains pulled back enough that you could see the bright lights of heaven shine against the dark sky. Further back was a hallway that led to three separate rooms from where Emily stood.

“Why are you so quiet?” Emily stopped behind the couch, her head tilted.

Lute still didn’t respond, instead clicking a lighter and hovering the flickering flame over three candles in the center of the table. Her black wings shuffled around her to obscure herself from Emily’s view. Emily’s gaze traveled over them and her stomach churned at the way the long primary feathers had been clipped away. Maybe she was being too casual for everything that just happened.

“Okay…that’s okay.” Emily leaned back and tapped her fingers on the edge of the couch. “I was only trying to make conversation.”

“Well stop it,” Lute bit back and sent a quick glare at her before she clicked the lighter closed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

She clicked the lighter open again.

“…I know you don’t want me around, I wouldn’t want to be constantly looked after either if I was you, but that was the only way I could get Sera to let you stay. Did you want to fall?”

[orphanheirs]

OC Character intro~

Thank you @drchenquill !!

I plan on posting an official intro for this guy soon enough, but this is a good trial run/first look for that!

Name: Tristan Learmont

Nickname: Had no familial nicknames. Crispin calls him "the fop" before getting to know him better (fop being an old word for a dandy). The demon sometimes calls him "puppy" in reference to his young age and, at the time, another word for a dandy/effeminate male.

Kind of being: Human. Some distant fairy ancestry (he's unaware of this).

Age: 12

Sex: Assigned male at birth. Definitely not cis. If he lived in modern times he might call himself trans or nonbinary.

Appearance: Thin and frail-looking. Very, very pale from lack of sunlight. Dark circles under his eyes from poor health and disinterest in sleeping much. Icy blue eyes. His hair is so dark brown it looks black, and is slightly wavy. The longest part of his hair brushes his shoulders. It's basically a historic shag/mullet. A rather prominent and pointy nose. A slight under-bite which is noticeable from his lower lip protruding further than his upper lip, making it look like he's pouting all the time.

Occupation: Nothing since he's a kid! I guess technically you could say he's working for the demon.

Family Members: His parents are Loftus Learmont and Cassandra Learmont (maiden name Coffin). They are landed gentry, and very wealthy. Loftus is Scottish in ancestry, but they live in England. Tristan also has 12 older siblings. From oldest to youngest, they are: Anquetil, Frederick, Julietta, Lorin, Evelina, Matilda, Florentia, Theodosia, Menander, Presley, Harcourt, and Lenore. Tristan is the only child younger than Lenore.

Pets: None. He wasn't allowed any growing up.

Best Friends: Crispin, who is also his only friend. They don't really become friends till well into the story though.

Describe his room: When he was living at home, his room was large, with high ceilings. There was a large fireplace, and a huge four poster bed with an even huger canopy. There were also tall windows with deep casements, in the fashion of the day, but these were always shut tight and often covered with heavy drapes. The room was lit primarily by oil, candles, and the fire. It was often shadowy and gloomy. But still the walls were papered beautifully, the drapery on the bed and windows was of the finest material, the bed was furnished with the finest quality linens, and the floor was covered in an expensive rug. There was a table and chair of polished wood where Tristan did his lessons, writing, and sometimes his reading. When he was little the floor was strewn with an exorbitant amount of toys, and later the floor was strewn with books, sheets of paper with writing on them, and various contraptions. Any clean-up of this by the servants was quickly undone as soon as they left the room. The walls were covered in portraits, all of them of Tristan at different ages.

Way of Speaking: He speaks softly, and his voice sounds sweet even as he's saying something awful or mean. It has a frail sound to it, as if he can't speak any louder, but this is partially an act. He can be ear-splittingly loud when he wants to be. His voice is also very nasally, which adds to its shrillness when he raises his volume. He speaks in an overly formal, literary sort of way, as he's read far more books than he's had social interaction. He has the accent of an upper-class English person of the early 1800s. This is quite different from the modern upper class English accent.

Physical Characteristics (Posture, Gestures, Attitude): Holds himself rather languidly, like he's slightly bored by everything. This is partially because of actual fatigue due to illness. Leans a lot on things and sits on things that aren't meant to be lounged on/in (windowsills, tables, the nook of a bent tree trunk). When he's arrested by passion for something he seems possessed by a manic energy and perks up significantly. He has a gliding, elegant way of movement. If not for the awkwardness of being 12 it would verge on graceful.

Items in his Back Pocket/Purse: He keeps an enchanted pocket watch given to him by the demon on his person at all times. It tells him how much time he has left to fulfill the tasks the demon gave to him. He also keeps scented water to perfume himself with, and a handkerchief to cough into. He also keeps some medicines with him, or what passed for medicines at the time (they're probably actively making him worse). He keeps these things in his pockets if he's wearing boy clothes, and carries a reticule if he's wearing girl garb.

Hobbies: Reading is a big one, and so is dabbling in the occult. He went through a long phase of trying his own scientific experiments, and even building simple machines. He adores fashion, and enjoys writing, whether that be in his diary or short stories. He also loves dancing, and singing too. Once he runs away from home, he loves exploring nature.

Favourite Sports: He wasn't allowed to engage in physical activity growing up due to his medical issues, so he's never really played any. He doesn't have a huge interest in it, though. He really would love to ride horses, and to hunt. He would love to shoot a gun.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: He's very smart for his age, and has a higher-than-average propensity for retaining information he learned from books. Has some natural knack for doing magic, and somewhat of a sixth sense (he's seen/sensed spirits his whole life). Quite talented at writing and being creative in general. Naturally good at dancing.

Relationships (How they are with other people): He was raised with a mixture of emotional neglect, isolation, and being spoiled rotten and never disciplined for bad behavior, so he's uh. A Lot. He has no idea how to be considerate and show care for another person, and he doesn't see a reason to do so either. He's annoying, invasive, rude, condescending, selfish and cruel towards others. Even if he likes someone, he still sees them as a toy or pawn to get what he wants rather than a separate person as human as he is. On a more subconscious level, he doesn't believe he's likeable anyway, so why try to be nice? The trouble is he is likeable to some: he's also cute, funny, smart and interesting, so he can charm certain kinds of people despite his best efforts. When someone likes him he's really taken off guard; it's probably the only thing that can make him quiet and awkward. He forms the first real bond of his life with Crispin, quite unconsciously and over a loooooong period of time.

Fears: Before leaving his childhood home, it was dying before he's gotten the chance to live some life in the outside world. Now it's not achieving what he wants to and needs to in the short time frame he has.

Faults: Many, lol. As I mentioned above, he's selfish and cruel, and also imperious and condescending. He thinks he's smarter than almost everyone and acts like it. He's also reckless, impatient, and quick-tempered. He lies a lot, and can be quite manipulative and pushy. Won't do anything he doesn't want to. Harbors a lot of the prejudices his class held in the time period (e.g. thinks the "lower orders" are inherently inferior etc).

Good Points: He's creative, imaginative, brave, smart, determined, passionate, and has a great capacity to care about others. His sentiment and empathy betrays itself in his rapturous response to romance and tragedy in literature.

What they want more than anything else: Freedom and life. Deep (deep deep) down he wants love.

~~~

Sorry this is SO long!! I have a lot to say about this lil guy.

Tagging: @vesanal, @avaseofpeonies, @transthadymacdermot, @tragedycoded, and @kaylinalexanderbooks !

Tell me about your lil guys!!!

[uniqueinterior5]

Curating Comfort: How to Make Your Home a Cozy Haven You Never Want to Leave

There’s nothing like the feeling of stepping into a home that wraps you in warmth and comfort. A cozy haven isn’t just about plush furniture or soft blankets—it’s about creating an atmosphere that makes you feel at ease, relaxed, and completely at home. Whether you’re in a small apartment or a spacious house, the right touches can transform your space into a sanctuary where you can unwind and recharge.

In this blog, we’ll explore how to curate comfort in your home through thoughtful design choices, personal touches, and a few simple tricks that make your space feel inviting and cozy—all the time.

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1. Embrace Soft Textures

One of the easiest and most effective ways to make your home feel cozy is by layering soft textures throughout your space. Textures add depth and warmth, making a room feel more inviting and comfortable. Think of the things you love to touch—soft throws, plush pillows, and cozy rugs.

Throw Blankets & Pillows: Pile your couch or bed with fluffy pillows and a cozy throw blanket. Choose a mix of materials, such as velvet, knit, or faux fur, for added visual interest and tactile comfort.

Area Rugs: A large, plush rug can immediately soften a room and create a sense of warmth, especially if you have hardwood or tile floors. Opt for deep, comforting materials like wool or shag for a tactile experience underfoot.

Why It Works: Soft textures help create a sensory experience that encourages relaxation and comfort. They also add a layer of visual warmth that invites you to sink in and feel at home.

Pro Tip: Opt for fabrics in warm, neutral tones like deep browns, creams, or soft grays to create a cozy atmosphere that’s easy to mix and match with other elements in the room.

2. Warm Up the Lighting

Lighting is crucial in setting the mood of a room. Harsh overhead lighting can feel cold and uninviting, while soft, ambient lighting creates a warm and welcoming environment. The goal is to layer your lighting, using a mix of soft lights and task lighting to achieve a cozy, relaxed feel.

Table and Floor Lamps: Use lamps with warm-toned bulbs to create soft pools of light. Lamps can be strategically placed around the room to add a warm glow and eliminate dark corners.

Candles: Candles are a great way to add instant warmth and coziness. Whether you opt for scented or unscented candles, their soft flickering light and comforting scents can make a room feel intimate and peaceful.

Why It Works: Soft, warm lighting creates a relaxing atmosphere that helps you unwind and feel at ease. It also makes your space feel more inviting and intimate, perfect for curling up with a good book or relaxing with friends.

Pro Tip: If you don’t want to commit to wall-mounted lighting, string lights can be a playful and cozy alternative. Hang them along the edges of shelves or windows for a soft, twinkling effect.

3. Layer Up with Soft, Inviting Colors

Color plays a huge role in creating a cozy atmosphere. Warm, muted shades tend to evoke feelings of comfort and relaxation, while bright, bold hues can be energizing but might not foster a sense of calm. To make your home feel like a sanctuary, consider using a palette of soft, earthy tones.

Warm Neutrals: Shades of beige, taupe, or warm grays create a calm and soothing backdrop that works well in any room. These neutral tones help ground the space and provide a flexible base for other design elements.

Deep Accent Colors: Add depth and richness with deeper accent colors, such as forest green, navy blue, or rich burgundy. These colors are inviting and cozy, perfect for creating a relaxed, comfortable environment.

Why It Works: Soft, warm colors naturally encourage relaxation and calmness. They provide a sense of shelter and security, making your home feel more like a retreat.

Pro Tip: Experiment with color gradients by using varying shades of one color throughout the room. This creates a sense of flow and cohesion without overwhelming the space.

4. Incorporate Natural Elements

Nature has a way of calming the mind and grounding the spirit. Bringing natural elements into your home not only adds texture and interest but also creates a harmonious, calming environment. Think wood, plants, and natural fibers.

Wood Accents: Natural wood furniture or wooden beams can warm up a space, adding texture and richness. Whether it’s a wooden coffee table or a pair of wooden shelves, the organic feel of wood adds a sense of groundedness to your home.

Plants: Indoor plants are an easy way to bring life to your space. Plants not only improve air quality but their green hues and natural shapes can have a soothing effect. Consider low-maintenance options like snake plants, pothos, or succulents.

Natural Fibers: Materials like linen, cotton, and wool are naturally soft and breathable, making them perfect for bedding, cushions, or curtains. These materials add a tactile layer of comfort that’s both aesthetic and functional.

Checkout this page: interior design company in bangladesh

Why It Works: Natural elements add warmth, texture, and life to your space, helping to create a harmonious and peaceful atmosphere. They remind you of the outdoors and create a connection to nature, which can have a calming effect on the mind.

Pro Tip: Arrange your plants in varying heights and sizes for an organic, layered look. Don’t be afraid to go for a mix of both large statement plants and smaller potted plants to create balance.

5. Personalize Your Space

Your home should feel like an extension of yourself—full of things that bring you joy, comfort, and nostalgia. Personal touches are what make a house feel truly like a home. Incorporate items that have meaning to you and reflect your unique style.

Family Heirlooms & Personal Art: Display family photos, heirloom pieces, or artwork that resonates with you. These elements tell your story and create a deeper connection with your space.

Books and Collectibles: A shelf full of books, trinkets, or collections can add personality and warmth to a room. Not only do they provide visual interest, but they also create a sense of comfort by reflecting your interests and memories.

Favorite Textiles: Consider adding a few cherished, well-worn items like an old blanket, a cozy chair, or a beloved vintage lamp. These pieces make your space feel lived in and personal.

Why It Works: Personal items make a space feel unique and special. Surrounding yourself with meaningful things creates a deep emotional connection to your home, making it a place you want to return to every day.

Pro Tip: Don’t be afraid to mix and match styles. An eclectic approach to personal décor creates a cozy, lived-in vibe that feels comfortable and welcoming.

6. Create Cozy Nooks

One of the easiest ways to make your home feel cozy is by creating little pockets of comfort. Cozy nooks are perfect for reading, relaxing, or simply enjoying a quiet moment. These spaces can be tucked away in any corner of your home.

Reading Corner: Create a reading nook with a comfy chair, a soft blanket, and a small side table for your favorite books or a warm beverage.

Window Seats: If you have a window with a good view, turn it into a cozy nook with cushions, a throw, and a small table. Natural light combined with soft furnishings makes it a perfect space to unwind.

Cozy Bedroom Retreat: Make your bedroom a sanctuary by adding extra cushions, a soft duvet, and soft lighting. Consider a soft, warm color palette and incorporate personal touches like family photos or art prints that evoke relaxation.

Why It Works: Nooks provide a sense of privacy and intimacy, creating a space for you to escape from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Whether you’re curling up with a book or sipping your morning coffee, these spaces make your home feel more peaceful and personal.

Pro Tip: Keep your cozy nook clutter-free and focused on comfort—think plush pillows, soft lighting, and a few simple décor elements that bring joy.

Conclusion: Curate a Haven of Comfort

Curating comfort in your home is all about creating an environment that nurtures your well-being and makes you feel truly at ease. By layering soft textures, incorporating warm lighting, embracing natural elements, and personalizing your space with meaningful touches, you can create a home that invites you to relax and unwind.

Whether it’s a cozy reading nook, a warm color palette, or the perfect plush blanket, the key is to make your home a reflection of your personal comfort. After all, the more you feel at home in your own space, the harder it will be to leave.

Related Post:  interior design company in dhaka

[taeyongeomma]

Discount Area Rugs - Where To Find Great Arrangements Online

If you are moving into a home interestingly or are hoping to decorate your home you should go with numerous hard choices. One thing you should contemplate is how to cover your floors. If you live in a home with hard surfaces then you will presumably need to consider buying a couple of area rugs. An area rug is a carpet that covers a part of a floor. Finding smart thoughts for such things at discount prices can very challenge. On choice is to enlist an inside decorator. This can be extravagant. Another great option is to attempt to find discount area rugs on click here to learn more the most popular online shopping locales. Here you will realize where to buy area rugs online cheap.

The main site which you might consider is called AreaRugs.com. This organization has been in the area rugs business for more than 30 years. The organization highly esteems its mastery in area rugs. The greatest benefit to shopping on this site is that you can speak with its sale staff by means of the phone or email. The site is exceptionally easy to use and simple to explore. You will see that it separates its items into classifications of rug styles and brands. The site's most popular styles incorporate Southwestern, Surya, Sphinx and Shag area rugs. It conveys the following driving brands: Capel, Couristan, Mohawk, Momeni and Radici. At long last, one more extraordinary viewpoint about this site is that you can get free delivery and a free rug cushion with each buy.

A second site worth considering is Amazon. To arrive at the page where you can begin perusing area rugs click on Home Nursery and Pets, Furniture and Decor and Rugs. When you are on the page you will see that Amazon works effectively sorting its area rugs. At the highest point of the page you will be capable select colors. You will see that the site offers a wide assortment of colors with the most popular ones being red, brown, beige and dark. You'll see that the site likewise has less popular colors like pink and gold. Look down the screen and you will see Amazon's included classifications. Here you can pick the most popular sizes, for example, 8x10 or 9x12 and shapes like round and square shape. Look down a touch more and you will see more popular including material like cotton and silk and different driving brands like Shaw, Couristan and Surya. One more phenomenal perspective about Amazon is that the site does a generally excellent work posting its smash hit things and giving top to bottom customer surveys and evaluations. At the point when you land on the area rugs page you will find the top-merchants on the upper right-hand corner of your PC screen.

[im-so-far-away-without-you-now]

Rugs That'll Create Your Bedroom A Great Deal Cosier

Picking a rug is actually hard. To stay away from the hated rug order-and-return battle, our experts have actually pivoted up some ideas as well as rugs to look around therefore you may observe what the general result will certainly be actually in your bedroom prior to you reach investment. White is actually excellent for a light and also fresh area, however to maintain it coming from appearing very blah, make an effort a formed rug in differing neutral tones. If you may match it right into your toss cushion and also quilt, also much better. You can not make a mistake along with a shag rug. It is actually a traditional, as well as very most notably, comfortable, in a bedroom, however make an effort a designed variation to maintain it coming from really feeling extremely retro. A rattan bed structure as well as seagrass rug incorporate seaside aspects to your bedroom. Regardless of where you in fact reside, you may think that you are actually due to the ocean. Offer a white bedroom a bit much more personality through selecting a formed, vibrant rug. Sulky, abundant colours will definitely possess a jewel-box impact versus the white background. Go all out as well as create a claim along with an every bit as daring rug if you have actually obtained a whole lot of colour in your bedroom. Merely decide on neutral colours like white & dark so it does not encounter your various other design. Boost. Soften up a much more commercial bedroom along with a formed rug in light colours. It creates the area experience a lot more welcoming, while still maintaining the trendy variable. Absolutely nothing epitomizes bohemian design like a designed rug. The additional dynamic the colours, the much better. Cancel pinks as well as whites along with a white and also dark formed rug. The area still experiences light as well as orderly, yet the darker rug maintains it coming from approaching shoddy trendy. This delicate blue rug creates the space experience clean. It is actually best if you desire to produce a beachy artistic, or even only intend to incorporate an understated, gender-neutral stand out of colour. A brown rug grounds an or else even more womanly bedroom, along with great deals of florals, blues, and also whites. Select a formed design to separate that dark colour. Opting for a rug is actually hard. To stay clear of the hated rug order-and-return battle, our experts have actually pivoted up some ideas and also rugs to purchase therefore you can easily find what the total impact will certainly be actually in your bedroom prior to you strike investment. You can not go incorrect along with a shag rug. It is actually a timeless, as well as very most significantly, relaxing, in a bedroom, however make an effort a designed model to maintain it coming from experiencing very retro. If you have actually acquired a whole lot of colour in your bedroom, go all out and also bring in a claim along with a just as strong rug. On that particular note, shop our choice of one of the most trendy rugs to buy right now at Rugs Luxury

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Room 104 (Spencer Reid x gn!MC)

Summary: After some complications with the hotel’s computer system land Spencer and Parker in a one bed hotel room, confessions are made (featuring Garcia being iconic at the end because she’s an absolute queen and a legend)

Content: IT’S THE “THERE’S ONLY ONE BED” TROPE BABYYYYY also just kind of awkward fluff I guess (nothing sexual)

Warnings: Swearing, like once, also they’re both awkward as hell

MC’s name and pronouns: Parker, no pronouns specified

Word Count: 2008

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

“I’m sorry sir, it looks like room 104 is one of our king suites. Perhaps you mis-clicked while booking?”

“I didn’t book the room - is there any way we could upgrade? We’re from the FBI, you see; our unit chief Aaron Hotchner was actually the one that booked the room in the first place.”

The woman at the front desk turned back to her computer screen, clicking a few more things before addressing Spencer again. 

“Unfortunately it looks like the only rooms we have available right now are single bed rooms, either king or queen beds. Though my computer is acting really strange - would you like me to call my manager and see if there have been any system glitches recently?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to bother them… what do you want to do?” He turned to me. I’d been standing behind him, letting him sort out the room, but I just shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“We’re friends. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“Friends. Right. Yeah,” He echoed my statement, a strange look overtaking his face only for a moment before he turned back to the front desk woman, “104 works.”

“Wonderful. I’m sorry again for the confusion,” She said, typing up something before grabbing a key off of a board on the wall behind her, “Checkout starts at 8 tomorrow morning. If you need anything, please feel free to call room service, or come down here. Have a nice night!”

Spencer took the key from her with a half smile and a nod, and I followed him as we set off towards the room. 

“Reid,” I had to pick up my pace to keep up with his long strides, practically jogging next to him, “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? You seem off.”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah. No issue,” He replied unconvincingly, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bad liar?”

“I’m fine, Parker. Really.”

“Ok… ‘cause I know you have some issues with germs and that kind of stuff -”

“It’s fine. I’m all good.”

“... Ok. Cool. Because I’m all good too.”

“Yeah. We’re friends, right? No big deal.”

“Exactly. Friends.”

We walked the rest of the way to the room in silence, stopping at a dark wooden door with a gold placard reading 104. He slipped the key into the lock, swinging the door open to reveal our room for the evening. 

It was nice, albeit very old-fashioned. It gave off the same “I haven’t been updated since the 70s” energy as the rest of the hotel, with brown shag carpet offsetting beige striped walls. There was a dresser in the same dark stained wood as the door, also matching the headboard and two nightstands near the bed. The bed provided a pop of color in the form of a royal blue and tan comforter, the blue being presented in large polka dots swirling over the fabric. The aggressive brown on the carpeting was broken up by a circular blue rug to match the bedspread, and the whole thing was just overall an assault on my eyes. 

It was clean, though, and it was a place to sleep. At this point that was my only standard, as I could already feel myself struggling to keep my eyes open.

Of course, there was only one king-sized bed in the center of the room, which made my stomach flip. Without a word, I glanced over at Spencer, who had already headed into the room, setting the key on top of the dresser next to the old TV. The thought of spending the night laying next to him… it made goosebumps race up my arms. 

Because there was no denying he was attractive. Everyone would admit that. But his smile made my heart soar, and every time we touched all the air rushed from my lungs. And that’s what scared me. 

We worked together. We were friends; co-workers. Nothing more. 

We couldn’t be anything more.

“Um,” Spencer cleared his throat, his attention on the bed, “I can take the left side, if you want? I don’t really have a preference…”

“That’s good with me,” I offered him a small smile, before pulling my backpack off and rifling through it for the pair of pajamas I packed with me. I stepped into the small bathroom to change, brushing my teeth and considering washing my face before deciding I was way too tired to deal with it. 

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Spencer took my place, and I immediately flopped down on the right side of the bed, burrowing under the covers and waiting for him to get out so I could turn out the lights.

After a moment, he joined me in bed, staying as close to the side as he could and clearing his throat again, his words coming out in an awkward stutter.

“Are you good with me shutting the light off?” He asked.

“God, yes. I’m exhausted - night, Reid.”

“Goodnight, Parker.”

We both flipped the lamps on our nightstands off, plunging the room into darkness. I noticed Spencer had left the bathroom light on, and I smiled to myself. Sometimes I forgot about his fear of the dark. 

As much as my body was begging for sleep, I couldn’t get my mind to stop racing, my thoughts dominated solely by the man laying next to me. Even through the torrent of thoughts in my mind, I could hear one thing very clearly.

Say something say something say something say something -

“Spencer?” My voice was harsh in the still room, seeming to echo off every surface around us. For a second, I thought he might’ve been asleep, but after a moment he replied.

“Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, but he responded again after another lapse of silence.

“Thinking about the case?”

“Not the case. Thinking though.”

“About?”

It crossed my mind that this was the moment that could ruin everything, but the word slipped out before I could stop it.

One word. 

“You.”

I heard him take in a sharp breath, and with every beat of silence I felt more and more nauseous. 

Take it back no say something else no just hang on wait take it back -

“I’m thinking about you too.”

I heard him roll over, and I rolled over to face him as well. 

“Really?” I asked. He rolled his eyes.

“Hell, Parker, I’m always thinking about you. I always thought I was so obvious.”

“I felt the exact same way,” I laughed, and he smiled. It lit up his whole face, and I felt like my heart was going to explode. 

“I guess we’re both just oblivious then.”

“Apparently.”

We lapsed into another spell of silence, both of us staring at each other as our laughter faded, uncertain of what to do. It was only when his gaze flicked down to my lips that I knew we were both thinking the same thing. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it.

“... Can I kiss you?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that,” I said.

He closed the gap between us quickly, not wanting to waste anymore time as he pressed his lips to mine in a soft and gentle kiss, stealing the air from my lungs. It sent a thrill straight through me, and I couldn’t get enough when his hand reached up to cup the side of my face as he moved his lips against mine. I realized very quickly that he was an incredibly good kisser, and I threaded one of my hands in his hair, pulling him even closer to me.  

When we finally broke the kiss, both of us were breathing heavy, foreheads still touching. 

“Spencer, will you lay with me?” I finally mustered up the courage to ask, and he grinned, nodding. I pressed another kiss to his lips before laying my head on his chest, feeling him wrap his arms around me in a warm embrace. 

I pulled the comforter over us, and before we knew it we’d both fallen into a fast and peaceful sleep.

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

We’d just gotten back to the local police department, ready to send off someone else to go try and get some rest. We’d been sleeping in shifts, so we were only getting like three or four hours, but Garcia was still hyper as ever when we came back in. Her and Derek were standing in the doorway of the room we’d set up in, but spun around when they realized we were there, subsequently blocking us from getting inside. 

“Hey, how’d you guys sleep?”

“Great - lord knows Reid needed some,” I teased. He just jokingly elbowed me in response before looking over Garcia’s shoulder to talk to Hotch. 

“Yeah yeah whatever - hey, Hotch? Why’d you only book us a single bed room?” 

I expected him to apologize for some kind of mistake, but he just looked confused. 

“Reid, I specifically booked a room with two beds so that two people could go to the hotel at the same time. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because when we showed up, the front desk lady said that the room we’d booked was a king suite. They didn’t have anymore double bed rooms available, either -”

“Man, that’s crazy - you know, now that you guys are here though, our lovely lady Jennifer Jareau found out some more information about the case that I think you guys will want to hear,” Garcia cut off Spencer’s comments, ushering us into the room where JJ was standing by the board. 

“You got more information on the case and didn’t tell me?” Spencer rushed over to where she was standing, leaving me lingering closer to the door. 

“I knew you’d try to come back in,” I heard JJ start to argue, but my attention had been captured by someone else.

I guess they thought I was out of earshot, because immediately Garcia leaned over and whispered something to Morgan.

“Five bucks, you know the deal.”

“Technically, they haven’t confirmed anything yet. I’m not paying you until I know - wait, you didn’t do anything illegal, did you?”

“Despite what my past actions may indicate, I don’t break the law every time I hack something, Derek.”

“Hey, I’m just checking! It wouldn’t look good for an FBI agent to be party to criminal activity, you know.”

“I don’t think that hacking a hotel computer and altering one of their records is going to get me in any trouble.”

“Whatever you say, babygirl.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Why don’t you go find out?”

I heard her walk past him and come stand next to me. 

“So…” She said, in a singsong voice that was clearly trying to prompt me to say something. I just laughed, though I could already feel myself blushing.

“So…?”

“Haha, I knew it!” She laughed triumphantly, and I rolled my eyes. “You kissed him, didn’t you?”

“How the - literally how could you possibly know that?”

“Trust me, I have very good intuition when it comes to romance,” She joked. I just shook my head with a laugh, and she turned to Derek, grinning. 

“Alright, cough it up chocolate thunder!” 

She held out her hand, and he groaned, pulling out his wallet and slapping a $5 bill into her outstretched palm. 

“Happy now?”

“Very.”

Her and Derek continued talking, but I headed across the room to where Spencer and JJ were standing, talking about the case. 

“Can I get a recap?”

“Yeah - hey, what was Garcia so excited about?” She asked. I quickly glanced over at Spencer before smiling and shaking my head.

“It was nothing. Just this dumb bet her and Derek had going about when this moron would finally sleep. They needed my honest report.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” She laughed before turning back to the board. Spencer looked at me, and I bit back a smile.

“I’ll tell you later.”

[radioduo]

fight back || dsmp become human au

word count: ~1,480

description: tubbo gets into a bit more trouble than he meant to. lucky for him, he has tommy by his side. (after this part, there might be a short dream team/feral boys ficlet! if not, we’ll go back to ranboo’s pov :])

warnings: death, violence, and mild blood descriptions. if you want to avoid, skip the paragraph surrounded by the red dashes (————)

first // prev // next

Tubbo didn’t want to die.

O Fight back

He managed to take a shallow, shaky breath, and he closed his eyes. His LED was flashing bright red, a sign of danger. He felt time slow down around him, and Tubbo weakly blinked open his eyes again. In front of him were bright red letters that cast an ominous red light onto his face. He shook his head as he stared at them. Do nothing, he scoffed to himself. Fuck no. He placed a hand on the translucent sign and pressed against them with all the force he could muster.

Tiny cracks formed under his palms, and he pressed his hands forcibly against the barricade. Come on, come on, he pleaded silently. He shoved himself against the barrier and listened to it fracture and break with a satisfied smile. The barrier shattered, and Tubbo was almost disappointed he couldn't hear the sound of glass crashing to the ground.

He returned to reality with a jolt and realized where he was. There was a hand to his throat and very shortly about to be a fist in his face. Tubbo narrowed his eyes with anger and shot out his feet with more force and aggression than he had ever used before.

Lukas let out a grunt of surprise and pain and he stumbled backward. Tubbo dropped from the attacker's grip, and he fell to the floor. He rubbed at his neck, gasping for breath, but didn’t have time to recover. A kick came flying towards his face and he quickly rolled out of the way.

“Tubbo, be careful!” Tommy called to him.

Tubbo scrambled to his feet and narrowly avoided getting a fist to the face as he quickly dodged. “Don’t you think I’m trying, Tommy?” he yelled back. He yelped as Lukas grabbed his arm and pulled him backward. Tubbo’s LED was flashing red rapidly. He was in danger.

“Nowhere to run, eh?” Lukas muttered. He shoved Tubbo backward and into the wall once more. “You’re done for, tin can.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Tubbo replied, venom dripping from his voice. He jerked his head forward and slammed it into Lukas’s forehead harshly. Tubbo only felt mild discomfort, thankfully. He shook his head to clear it and grabbed the man’s shoulders. With a vicious shove, Lukas flew backward. He had just enough time to turn around and try to brace himself as Tubbo quickly looked away. The sound of shattering glass rang out around the living room. Silence fell over the Crafts. Nobody moved a muscle.

————

Finally, Tubbo turned to look at the table and winced. In the middle of it lay Lukas sprawled out on a pile of broken glass. Shards of the coffee table littered the carpet, and a dark crimson stain was beginning to form on the beige shag rug beneath the disturbingly still intruder.

————

Tommy was the first to speak again. “Holy shit! Bleed red, dickhead!” he shouted.

“Tommy, be quiet. Don’t you realize what happened?” Techno said firmly. “I think we just witnessed a murder,” His words hung in the air heavily. “What did you just do, Tubbo?” He knelt next to Lukas to put a finger to his neck, checking for a pulse.

Tubbo took a step back. His hands were shaking. “I-I don’t know, I just had this feeling that I-”

Wilbur looked at him. His brown eyes flashed dangerously. “What do you mean you had a ‘feeling,’ Tubbo? Androids don’t have feelings.”

X Obvious

O Stay silent

Tubbo balled his hands into fists.

O Stay silent

The android didn’t say a word as he watched Wilbur’s face. The other boy's expression changed to one of realization, only to quickly be replaced by fear. “You deviated,” Wilbur breathed. “You fucking deviated, Tubbo.”

Wilbur

Relationship - Wary

Tubbo’s LED flashed again. “I didn’t know what was happening, Wilbur!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I knew I couldn’t stand by and let myself be k-” he swallowed and took a breath to calm himself. He didn’t want to process what had just happened. “I didn’t want to die. I’ve never been afraid of death like that before, Wilbur. I couldn’t just do nothing,” he whispered.

Wilbur started to respond but Techno interrupted him. “He’s dead,” he announced. He wiped a smear of blood from his fingers. “The table shattered underneath him as he fell. He didn’t stand a chance.”

Phil stayed silent as the twins whispered to each other. Tommy walked over to where Tubbo stood and put a hand on his shoulder. Tubbo appreciated the gesture but moved away. He didn’t think he could handle physical touch at the moment. He looked at Phil with desperation in his eyes. “Phil?” he asked.

Phil’s blue eyes shifted from staring at the coffee table remains to where Tubbo stood next to Tommy. “Why did you not do what I told you to?” He asked. His voice was calm, but Tubbo could feel the tension beneath his civil exterior. “I told you not to do anything, and then you go and fucking kill someone?”

“Look, it was a mistake, okay?” Tubbo said. His voice was strained and scared. “That sounds so stupid considering what happened, but I promise I didn't mean to.” He gave Phil a steely look. “Do you know what it’s like to have your life in danger like that? To feel helpless and trapped and unable to move?”

Phil falls silent again and rubs his temples. He didn’t seem like he was going to say anything more when the sound of sirens was suddenly audible from outside. “Shit,” Phil muttered through gritted teeth. “The police are here. How the fuck are we going to explain this?” The question was rhetorical. Nobody bothered to try and answer him.

Tommy turned to Tubbo. “You need to get out of here,” he said. “We need to get out of here.” His tone was more severe than Tubbo had ever heard it. “You can’t stay here, you’ll be arrested and destroyed if the police find you,”

Tubbo felt icy fear seep into his veins. “Where would we even go?”

“There are so many places around Detroit for us to go, Tubbo,” Tommy replied. “We could find a hotel for the night and figure out where to go from there.” The blond boy frantically rushed up the stairs and disappeared, leaving Tubbo at the base of the stairs with Phil and the twins. The others were stalling. Nobody was ready to face what lay on the other side of the door.

Tommy came thundering back down the stairs with a bag in his hand, and Phil rushed over to talk to him. “Tommy, what are you doing? You can’t just run off like this,” he said in a hushed voice. “You need to stay here,”

X Silent

O Fear

☐ Unfair

Δ Together

Tubbo shook his head at Phil.

Δ Together

“We have to go together,” Tubbo insisted. “I have to leave, Phil. I'll be arrested and destroyed if I don't escape, and I don’t know my way around the city like Tommy does.”

“I won’t leave him to die, dad,” Tommy stepped in. “You’re not changing my fuckin’ mind,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Phil grimaced. “You’re right. I can’t stop you,” he admitted. “Just promise me that you’ll be safe. That you won’t get into any trouble,”

Tommy, despite the weight of the situation, gave Phil a smirk. “I can’t promise you anything, old man,” Tommy began walking towards the glass sliding door. He paused and looked over to Tubbo, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs. “Come on, Tubso. Out the back door and over the fence. These three can’t stall for much longer,” he said. Tommy opened up the door and ushered Tubbo out with him. The two stepped into the cold night air and shut the door behind them.

While Tommy hopped the fence, Tubbo turned to look at his house. His home. It was the one place he’d ever felt truly at peace, and he was being forced to leave it behind. He let out a shuddering breath. Why did he have to have feelings and fears all of a sudden? Why couldn't he just stick with his orders? Why-

“Tubbo?" Tommy whispered loudly from the other side. A tuft of his hair poked up from over the tall wooden fence. “You coming, man? Are... are you okay?”

X Lie

O Truth

☐ Wilbur

Δ Phil

Tubbo paused. The sound of police radios filled the silence and Tubbo watched as officers swarmed inside the house. They hunched over the coffee table, shouting to one another and looking around frantically. The android didn't hear them, but he saw the lieutenant bark an order at the officers and point outside into the darkness. His stomach dropped. He looked back at where Tommy stood.

O Truth

“I will be,” he said at last. “Hopefully.”

[wishing4nuclearwinter]

You, Me, and the Gun Between Us

Whumptober No.2 - Talking Is Overrated

Garrote (with a side of haunting) ft. Benny

[warnings: suffocation, ghosts, blood, visions, violence, guns, bindings, death (... maybe)]

His knees are killing him. How long are the bastards going to make him wait before they finally let him eat a bullet? The rug they spread over the cracked earth is filthy, more stain than carpet. Benny suspects it had once been shag, before it was matted flat. No way his suit pants are surviving this one. 

But, then again, neither will he. Hope springs eternal, but he’s convinced he’s teetering on the edge of eternity, waiting here like this. When he tumbles over, then what?

Whoever Caesar had summoned is either dead, stupid, or insanely foolhardy - emphasis on the insane. Their seat at the table sits empty, mocking. Benny’s caps are on all three. 

His throat burns. A thirsty man in the desert, that’s exciting and unique. Oh, he’ll be sure to tell this story at parties if he manages to get out of this mess. He briefly catches the eye of a praetorian, the guard sneering at him before he can open his mouth. Fine, he didn’t want whatever passed as water to these creeps anyways. 

He dares a glance at the guard to his left, but he’s gone. The person - thing - standing in his place is barely there, a dream walking among the waking. It takes far too long for the pieces to click. He should have known sooner. Blood still pours from the bullet holes. 

“What in the -”

He blinks and she’s gone. Again and something wraps tightly around his throat. Feels like metal, a thin cord digging through his skin, snapping his windpipe shut. 

He claws at it, his bound hands finding only bare skin. It pulls tighter. 

A sigh ruffles the back of his hair. It’s cold, too cold, burning worse than the metal slicing his neck. 

“Time to cash out.”

Caesar’s tent melts away and a new scene forms. This one he knows like the back of his hand. He spent far too many hours watching Jessup dig that damned hole. 

He doesn’t want to be here, to see this. He can’t stop it, the thoughts aren’t his own, the memories watch him from below. On the ground, on his knees. He doesn’t beg. She didn’t beg. 

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?”

Eyes that should be his, aren’t his, whisper everything his mouth won’t. 

Now it’s your turn. Look at me.

He can’t look away even if he wants to. He doesn’t.

The tent comes back into view, however distorted. A brief reprieve, long enough to feel the cord tighten. He can’t think, can’t breathe. A horrible crunch reverberates up his neck and through his skull, as if his spine is fracturing under the pressure. 

There are hands on him; warm, living hands. He’s vaguely aware as they try to haul him up, but he’s glued down. There’s nothing. He’s dying and there’s nothing, only the gash on his neck that grows, blooming under nurturing guidance. 

They can’t save him from nothing.

“You’ve made your last delivery kid.”

The Benny that watches him is warped, an impossibly wide smile plastered on his face with teeth that he just knows are sharp enough to glide through flesh. 

“Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”

He’s covered in blood, saturating his checkered jacket, caked in his hair, coagulating where it pours from him into the dry dirt. He can’t tell where it’s coming from.

Miles of empty graves stretch behind him, waiting patiently for their offering, sacrifice. 

On the edge of it, Vegas burns. Black ash eats at the sky, swallowing the world in one bite. Never satisfied. It settles on his tongue, burns acid holes through it. He chokes. The cord tightens. 

“From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck.”

He can’t beg. He has to. He can’t. 

“Truth is -”

It’s her, it’s him. The courier’s bullet wounds are embedded in his skull, dark blue eyes replace brown. 

“The game was rigged from the start.”

“The game was rigged from the start.”

Both speak in unison, the false Benny’s words frostbitten, listless, cruel. Hers seethe, rip him apart fiber by fiber, slow and methodical until he’s empty. She replaces them with fine, jagged glass just under the skin. He screams and it’s hollow, silent.

He’s shattering, he’s dying. He’s dying. 

I’m going to die.

BANG BANG

The cue. In a blink he’s knitted back together, whole and unbroken. Vegas, his doppelgänger, the graveyard, the ash, the sky are all gone. It’s her and him and Maria. The rage has dissolved too and she watches him with something akin to pity. Her grip on the gun loosens and it clatters as it hits the nonexistent ground, metal meeting metal. 

They don’t say a word. There is nothing left to say, because he knows. He knows her terror and her agony and it’s more suffocating than the cord that refuses to let go. 

He empathizes. He’s sorry. 

He doesn’t regret it.

Something snaps.

[rohad93]

Worth the Fight: Ch9

Everything hurts.

And she does mean everything...

It took a herculean effort for Amity just to pry her eyes open the moment she came into consciousness. Even just laying still in her bed, her body throbbed with every beat of her heart and she groaned to herself.

Everything was sore and she winced with every movement as she slowly pulled herself to sit up in bed.

Her muscles screamed in protest as she stood from the bed wincing. Even her hands hurt. She glanced down at her palms to see the new raised up blisters across the pads of her fingers and at the base of her palm from holding the training sword, they were soft and tender.

All she wanted to do was lay back down in bed, and she would have, had she not remembered that she had training again with Luz today, at her own insistence as well...

It occurred to her that this was probably what Luz had been trying to tell her yesterday, not that she didn't think she could do it, but that they would need to take a break because she would be much too sore to continue on today.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes as she remembered what Luz had said yesterday.

‘Okay, we train tomorrow; no matter what’

She knew, she definitely knew this was going to happen and had let Amity run herself right off a cliff with her mouth. She groaned to herself.

She wasn’t going to get out of this by hiding in her bedroom, well, she could, but she’d have to face Luz eventually if she wanted to continue training, and she did, though not at this very moment.

She’d made this bed, now she would have to lie in it.

With a pained grunt, Amity made herself climb out of bed and get ready for the day to come, grabbing her training clothes and hiding them in her skirts before finally leaving her bedroom to face the day.

Her siblings were already sitting at the table having their breakfast when she walked into the room on stiff and sore legs that protested every step she took, wincing.

Edric snorted to himself and Emira just giggled.

“What?” Amity barked, looking between her snickering siblings as she plopped herself down at the table.

“Nothing!” The two chirped much too quickly to be believable.

Amity just grumbled and started to eat the food laid out in front of her, while she wasn’t exactly eager to get to training, she was eager to get away from her siblings, who both kept looking at her and each other between snickering to themselves.

“What?!” She finally growled again after five minutes of the same thing.

“You seem a little…,” Edric started.

“...sore, today,” Emira finished with a grin.

Amity narrowed her eyes at the two of them. They couldn’t possibly know, there was just no way they could know she had started sword training with Luz.

“I am, I fell harder than I thought I did,” she said, turning back to her food, ignoring her brother’s quiet snickering.

“I’m surprised your ‘guard’ didn’t catch you…” Emira was smirking at her and Amity can't even begin to guess what her sister seems to think based on that comment. Her brows furrowed between her eyes as she looked at her sister who is giving her the most salacious smirk she’s ever seen and it made her frown.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” She couldn’t stand the knowing looks the two are giving her.

“We know, Mittens.” Edric only grinned at her.

“What, exactly, do you know?” she growled, stabbing at a piece of fruit sitting in front of her with her fork.

“About you and your little guard, what you were really up to on your ‘walk’.” Emira set her chin in her palm and is still giving her that infuriating smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…,” she started but the twins are both giving her tired, but amused smiles and Amity is starting to sweat.

“Aw, come on, Amity.” Edric snorted. “It was obvious what’s going on. You didn’t want us to come, you were gone for hours…”

“Impressive, by the way…” Her sister cocked a brow and pointed at her.

“You came home all sore, sweaty, and disheveled…,” he went on. “It’s obvious to any idiot what’s going on,” Edric huffed and Emira shot him a disbelieving look but didn’t say anything.

Amity clenched her hands into the skirt of her dress. How the hell had they found out? She had been so careful, she thought, anyway.

“Please don’t tell, Bump…,” she mumbled, shoulders sucked up to her ears. The twins shared a look.

“We would never do that,” Edric assured her and Emira nodded.

“You’re a grown woman, these things are bound to happen…,” she trailed off.

Amity looked up at them, relieved at their words, though Emira’s confused her a bit.

“But…,” Emira trailed off, cheeks a little pink. “How was it?” she asked quietly and Amity cocked a brow.

“Um… tiring,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect stamina to play such a large part, though I should have guessed, I didn’t realize I’d be this sore either…” She rubbed at her arms as she looked back up at the twins.

“Ah, yes, you gotta work on your stamina.” Edric nodded knowingly, crossing his arms. Emira rolled her eyes at him.

“Luz said as much…” Amity frowned.

“Was it like you expected, or?” Emira asked curiously. She’d always wondered if her sister would trust her enough to share such things with her when the day finally came.

Amity pursed her lips, she didn’t think her siblings would be this interested in her desire to learn swordplay but she certainly didn’t mind, so long as they kept their word, which was hard to get, but once had, was neigh unbreakable.

“It wasn’t exactly what I expected,” she admitted. “But it was still quite enjoyable, I learned a lot, and I’m looking forward to our next meeting… when I’m not so sore that is. Maybe I’ll be able to keep up with her.”

Edric choked on the water in his mouth.

“She was that good, was she?” Emira cackled.

“She’s very skilled, yes.” Amity nodded, “A little rougher than I expected…,” Amity grumbled, remembering all the times Luz had jabbed her with that stupid stick while trying to goad her into attacking. She had bruises all across her torso from the knight’s rough handling.

“I don't think I want to hear any more of this…” Edric made a face and Amity looked at him confused while her sister just laughed.

“She had a good time, Ed, leave her alone.” Emira waved him off. “Girl had some muscles on her, I imagine she was a little rougher than our Mittens would be accustomed. She is really cute though…,” Emira admitted.

“What?” Amity blinked at that, what did Luz being cute have to do with sword fighting?

“I just mean I understand why your interest in sex was finally piqued with that woman, she’s quite attractive.” Emira shrugged and watched in fascination as her sister's confused face slowly turned pink than red and then even redder as a look of scandalized outrage took over her face, mouth hanging open in an odd mix of rage and shock.

“What!?” She screamed, standing up and slamming her hands on the table, completely forgetting about how sore she was for a moment. Her face is so hot she can feel her heartbeat in her cheeks.

The twins both jumped, glancing at each other with wide eyes before turning back to her.

“You think Luz and I were..!” she stops herself, they’re alone in the dining hall but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a servant nearby who could hear. “That is NOT what happened!”

“Then… what were you two doing that left you all…” Edric made a motion with his hands. “Sore and tired and sweaty?” he asked and if possible Amity turned even redded now that she hears what she said in a whole new light.

“Luz is teaching me swordplay!” she hissed.

“Swordplay…,” Emira mumbled and is going over their conversation in her head. “So you’re not shagging the cute guard?”

“NO!” Amity is so red she could double for a tomato.

“Well, that’s not half as interesting.” Edric pouted.

“Kind of disappointing… Oh, can I have her then?” Emira cocked her head.

“Ugh!” Amity turned and stomped out of the room, heading for the front doors without a backward glance.

She has her training clothes tucked away under her dress and doesn’t even stop as she passes through the gate where Luz and Jerbo are standing at attention and she doesn't even spare Luz a look. Luz instead shared one with the other guard before shrugging and following after her. They walk along in quiet for several moments, Amity stewing and Luz watching her grumble to herself.

“Are you okay?” Luz cocked her head at the very obviously irritated noble who was stalking down the road not paying attention to anything, much less where she is going.

“I’m fine!” she snapped. She couldn’t even bear to look at Luz after what her brother and sister had said. She only went a few more feet before she noticed the footsteps following along behind her had stopped. She turned to look at Luz, standing a few feet away and frowning.

“I thought we’d come to an understanding about treating each other with some basic respect, especially if we’re going to be teaching each other…” Luz pursed her lips as they locked eyes and Amity took a deep breath. Her embarrassment with her siblings isn’t Luz’s fault, though now she finds it hard to look at the other woman without seeing what her sister must-see.

Tall, lean, and solidly built with bright eyes, dark brown hair, and soft features despite her outwardly rugged appearance. Amity mentally shook herself, damnit Emira!

“You’re right… forgive me… I don’t want to discuss it, but I’m fine,” she mumbled, looking at the ground.

Luz made an agreeing noise as she walked over to Amity.

“Well, are you ready to train then?” She crossed her arms and Amity grimaced, which only made Luz grin. “What’s wrong...are you maybe… sore?” Luz asked in a knowing tone that made Amity’s cheek turn pink for the second time that day as she pointedly refused to look at Luz.

“A… bit…” she admitted, making Luz chuckle. “But yes, I’m ready…” She nodded. She knew this was her punishment for getting ahead of herself yesterday. Luz just smirked and nodded as they made their way to the same clearing they had trained in yesterday. She made quick work of changing and received the training sword from Luz.

Her hands protested the tight grip on the hilt, rubbing on her new blisters painfully as she practiced strikes against Luz, who blocked them effortlessly with her own sword.

“I think that’s enough,” Luz called after no more than ten minutes of watching Amity wince with every movement.

“What?” Amity looked up at her with wide gold eyes. “We just started!” she exclaimed and Luz shrugged.

“I said we’d train today no matter what, as you requested,” she reminded, making Amity frown. “ but I never said how long we’d train for…,” she trailed off, the corners of her lips quirked up into a smile and as annoyed as Amity was by that smile and tone, she was more grateful than anything. She had insisted they train and Luz had indulged her, she was well within her right to make her train till she dropped, but she didn’t. “You're too sore and tired to train. I told you, if you overwork your body you’re going to end up hurt, I was trying to tell you that yesterday…, but you insisted.” She planted a hand on her hip as she gazed over at Amity, who flushed at that, embarrassed, looking elsewhere.

Luz was the one teaching her because she actually knew what she was doing and she probably needed to listen to her if she was to get anywhere with this.

“You’re right, I’m sorry… I should have waited to hear what you were going to say yesterday before I jumped to conclusions…,” she conceded, crossing her arms.

“Ya know, you wouldn’t have to say sorry to me so much if you just listened before you started yelling at me,” Luz chuckled. She suddenly knew how Eda had felt many times over the last five years, and Amity scowled face pink.

“Three is hardly a lot,” she huffed.

“Yeah, but I get the impression that you don’t apologize very often…” Luz grinned and Amity’s face only darkened further but she said nothing; Luz wasn’t wrong. The knight just winked and Amity huffed, turning her head away as her face turned red, thinking again about her and her sibling’s misunderstanding this morning. Luz seemed to sense her discomfort, even if she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“It’s okay.” Luz smiled. “I did the same thing when I first started, Eda tried to warn me too, but I didn’t listen. She made me train all day... It’s a learning process.” She shrugged. “We should head back so you can rest,” Luz said, sheathing her sword and walking over to lean on a tree, facing away from Amity so she could change.

The noble watched her back for a moment before changing as quickly as her sore muscles would allow.

Amity is silent for the walk back, in her own thoughts.

Maybe, objectively, the knight was attractive, but Amity was looking for so much more in a partner, and unlike her parents, those things weren’t wealth and power. Kindness and intelligence were at the top of her list, maybe someone who liked to read and learn as much as she did. She pushed those thoughts aside for now as the manor came into view.

She had other things to occupy her attention, and now that she thought about it, she still had her own end of their deal to keep.

“I’ll meet you tonight in the stables for your lessons,” Amity said without preamble, making Luz turn to her, confused.

“Huh?” is the eloquent reply that made Amity roll her eyes.

“You want to learn runic, your first lesson starts tonight,” she informed, and before Luz could think of anything to say they were standing at the front gate and Amity was walking through them toward the manor, leaving Luz at the gate with Jerbo.

“Huh?” is all she can say again as she watched her disappear inside.

~ ~

Luz hummed to herself as she laid back in the hay, one leg crossed over her knee to hold up the basic runic book she was still trying to decipher. A small fire she had built was burning nearby, lighting up the small stall with its warm glow.

The sun had set not too long ago, but being summer, that meant it was still fairly late, how late she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t tired anyway and she was still waiting for Amity. King was snuggled up to her side, his massive head thrown across her stomach. She scratched the space between his ears and horns.

“Are you going to behave when Amity gets here?” she asked, eyeing the beast, who slid a single rust-colored eye open to look at her but said nothing, naturally. “You better,” she warned and King snorted, like a petulant child.

Luz rolled her eyes at him.

“Are you in here talking to yourself?”

Luz looked up and smiled as Amity appeared, a book and some parchment under one arm and a quill and inkpot held in the other.

“I was talking to King.” She gestured to the wolf who growled at her before getting up and stalking away to the other side of the stall in a huff. “He’s grumpy…” she shrugged and scooted over to make room for Amity, who looked disdainfully at the pile of hay before sighing and sitting herself down near her.

“Where did you even get that… thing…?” Amity eyed the massive wolf out of the corner of her eye. King growled in response.

“He’s my buddy!” Luz insisted. “He was following around my mentor and I dunno, we bonded, so when I set out on my own he came with me,” Luz explained and Amity hummed.

“Are you ready?” she turned to Luz who was looking at her with a wide smile and bright eyes.

“Yes!” Is the eager reply.

Amity nodded and can’t help but smile as they cracked open the beginner runic book and Amity wrote down the basic runes. The main elements that all other runes were built on.

Luz is a quick study and memorizes the base elements and their runes quickly, jotting them down and Amity can’t help but admire her beautiful penmanship. Just another strange thing about the woman to add to an ever-growing list.

“I’m surprised you don’t know any of these, usually the first things someone training to be a knight does is learn runic for the enchanting aspects of fighting.” Amity looked up from the book and looked at Luz, who had her nose buried in another, one with a dark brown cover and gold inlay on the spine as she jotted notes in its margins. “I hope that isn’t a book from the archives you are defacing either…”

“No,” Luz chuckled. “I bought this, and I never bothered learning since I couldn’t do magic until recently…,” she said distractedly as she finished writing whatever she was in the book.

“What do you mean you couldn’t do magic until recently?” Amity’s brows furrowed between her eyes.

“I’m human, I don’t have a bile sac,” Luz finally looked up at her. “I can’t absorb the natural magic of the world like a witch can, so I had to get creative…” Luz grinned at her.

“How do you do magic then?” Amity tilted her head.

“I’ll show you!” Luz perked up excitedly as she took the ink pot and a piece of parchment and carefully inked a glyph onto the paper, it began to glow in bright blinding light.

“Ta~da!” she grinned.

“I’ve never seen a light spell cast like that before…,” Amity mumbled in awe at the glowing paper. “Do all humans do magic this way?” she turned her gaze back to Luz, who frowned and shrugged.

“I dunno, I learned from this book.” she gestured to the heavy, ancient tome in her hands, turning it around to show Amity the glyph on the paper. She took it and looked over the pages. The glyphs make no sense to her, she’s never seen such a thing before, but the runes around them explain just what it is and what it does. Or rather, what elements are incorporated within which tells her exactly what spells she’s looking at.

She explained it to Luz, holding the book to her.

“The runes around this glyph read as ‘mirage’, which means it’s a basic illusory spell,” she explained.

“Ohhh,” Luz jotted down the runes on the paper she is using to take notes. Luz for her faults is an apt and studious person.

“If you humans don’t have magic, how did they ever almost destroy witch kind?” Amity asked, which made Luz’s head shoot up, eyes wide.

“What?” she blinked.

Luz was the only human Amity had ever met, and there really wasn’t much information on them. Just the stories their parents or grandparents told about the round-eared race that had tried to push witch kind to the brink of extinction by overpopulating their own kind and trying to push witch’s out until they had begun to push back in equal measures of fire and blood. It seemed like a far-flung tale to Amity, considering humans were all but extinct, and according to Luz, couldn’t do magic, and she told the human as much.

“Humans are all but extinct, huh?” she repeated, frowning. She had kind of started to figure that out considering that the more she thought about it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing another human outside her mother, who told stories about humans and everything they did, but Luz had never thought to ask where they were and now any information she could have gotten from her mother is unreachable.

“You didn’t know?” Amity started at her with wide eyes as Luz shook her head.

“Before I started traveling with Eda I just lived alone in the woods with my mother, after she died it was just me for two years.” she shrugged. “I was too busy trying to figure out where my next meal was coming from to worry about why I never saw other humans.”

“Oh…” Amity isn't sure what else to say to that.

“It’s okay…” Luz smiled, but even Amity can see it’s not half as strong as it was before.

“Here.” Amity handed her the book, now that you have the basics that the book skipped over you should be able to decipher this.” Luz took it and hummed as she distracted herself with deciphering the runes on the page.

After a while, Luz finally jerked up.

“I think I got this! It’s the glyph for an ice enchantment!” she exclaimed with a grin. Amity looked over it and the runes did seem to agree with Luz’s assessment.

After a few minutes of carefully studying the glyph, Luz took the quil and carefully inked the glyph onto a blank piece of parchment, and hesitated only a moment before tapping it. Ice erupted across the paper, thick and heavy in a symphony of crystalline sounds.

Luz didn’t expect how heavy it would be and the slippery, solid chunk of ice paper fell from her hand, Amity jerked out of the way as it landed where her leg had been only a moment earlier, a sharp corner sunk into the ground. Amity winced as she thumped onto the ground, sending painful vibrations through her whole body but especially the tender raw spots on the palms of her hands as she caught herself.

“Sorry!” Luz grimaced as she held out a hand to Amity, who took it, again, wincing, though Luz didn’t seem to notice as she helped her to stand. “I didn’t expect it to be so heavy… or slippery.” she chuckled, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“It’s alright, Luz,” Amity assured her as they both settled themselves back down in the hay pile. “It did work,” Amity said, looking down at the paper. “You are picking up the basic runes rather quickly…” she praised and Luz smiled brightly at her.

“Well, I do love to read… though usually, I’m just rereading Azura…” she mumbled and Amity blinked at her.

“Azura, the good knight?” she asked and Luz turned to her with wide eyes.

“Yeah!, do you read it too?!” Luz leaned in closer, excited.

“I’ve...read them…,” she hedged, cheeks pink. She had them all and had read them so many times now she could probably recite them from memory.

“Oh, which one is your favorite?”

“I’m partial to the third in the series…” a small smile pulled at her lips.

“Oh, I think the fifth is my favorite,” Luz hummed thoughtfully.

“Ah, I haven’t had a chance to read it yet…” Amity frowned, looking down at her hands. It took a long time for books to be published and she hadn’t been quick enough to get her hands on a copy when the first batch had come out.

“Do you want to borrow mine?” Luz asked and Amity’s head shot up.

“You have a copy?” she asked hopefully and Luz grinned.

“I do, I couldn't carry a lot when I was traveling, space being a premium and all, but whenever the new ones came out I would sell the old one to a bookshop to make room for the new one.” she leaned over and dug through her bag before pulling out a book with a familiar green binding, grinning. “I wish I could have them all to reread whenever I want, but…” she shrugged.

“I have all the old ones…” Amity found herself saying. “If you’d like to reread one of them…,” she trailed off.

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.” Luz smiled and handed her the book.

Amity winced as the book’s spine hit her palm and Luz noticed this time. She sat up fully, setting the book aside, and grabbed one of Amity’s hands, making her jerk, looking at Luz with wide, surprised eyes.

“Ah, sorry! May I?” she held out a hand and Amity blinked at it for a moment before, reluctantly, setting her hand in Luz’s, who turned her hand over to look at her palm and frowned at the large blisters, several of which had popped and oozed across her skin and were covered in dirt from her fall moments earlier. She took Amity’s other hand and looked at her palm, finding much the same.

She hummed as she let go of Amity’s hand and leaned over to her bag, digging through it for several moments before coming back with a small glass vile full of pale blue liquid and some strips of bandage.

“This will help with pain and help heal them quicker so long as you keep them clean,” she said as she popped the cork out of the vial and took hold of one of Amity’s hands again, and poured a drizzle of the liquid into her palm before carefully setting the vial aside and gently rubbed the liquid across the blisters. It was cold and numbed the raw spots of skin, but as cold as it was, Amity’s face was hot as Luz administered the tender care.

The light of the fire camouflaged the color erupting across her cheeks as Luz delicately rubbed the liquid in with gentle circles of her thumb before taking a strip of bandage laid across her knee and wrapping it snugly around Amity’s hand before repeating the process with the other hand.

Once both hands were bandaged, Luz sat back, satisfied.

“There ya go!” Luz grinned as she corked the vial and held it out to Amity who blinked at it before taking the proffered bottle. “Use that, and when it hurts just rub some in and cover them for a few hours. Eventually, they're going to callus, like mine. but for now, it will be a little painful, sword training is just like that,” she admitted and held up a hand, and even just with her eyes, Amity can see the hardened skin on Luz’s palm. She shouldn’t, knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t stop herself as she reached up and ran her fingertips across the skin of the hand Luz is holding up to her. Her palms are rough, with callus’ at every junction of her fingers and across the meat at the base of the digits. There are a few soft places in between and Amity ran her finger through the hollow junctions of soft, warm skin at the center of her palm, almost in a trance, but it’s broken when Luz jerked back and Amity flushed, about to apologize but Luz only giggled.

“Sorry, it tickled.” she smiled and Amity swallowed thickly.

“You should keep this for your use.” Amity managed to get out around a tongue that suddenly felt too swollen to speak correctly and tried to hand back the vial of magical liquid once she could get a grip on herself, but Luz just shook her head.

“Naw, I went and got that for you, I knew you'd be needing it.” Luz shook her hand and smiled. Amity didn't know what to say to that. Luz could have easily just told her what she needed, she didn’t need to get it herself.

“O-okay…,” she mumbled, slipping it in her dress pocket as they sit in the warm, dim, yellow, and red light of the fire. Luz’s brown, half-lidded eyes shine like embers in the flickering light that is casting soft shadows across her face. Amity swallowed. “Thank you…”

Luz smiled brightly at her in response and Amity felt a hard twinge in her chest that immediately set her heart to beating faster in her ears and her palms grew sweaty.

‘Oh no’

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Part 14!

Another chapter for tonight!! :)

Three months earlier:

The flight to Bulin was cramped. Sweaty and hot passengers all stacked on top of one another. I had no idea so many people visited Krudia now. Though I guess I wouldn’t know considering how long it’s been. Liana sat next to a window six rows back in economy class, wearing a blank expression on her face. Growing up she had always flown first class with her family but now she thought it best to have a seat near the back of the plane, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to herself.

The sound of a baby’s cries echoed through the cabin, joining that of the engine rumbling and passengers snoring as they slept. Liana let out a sigh. Children, though at times a joy to have and be around, often served as a source of annoyance. Especially when it came to crying children on a flight. Her thoughts were interrupted as a voice came from the seat beside her. “So what brings you to Krudia?” 

Liana looked over at the older woman and smiled. “Business, and yourself?”

“I’m actually returning home. I just visited my daughter and her husband. They live in Hungary. Every time I visit they keep trying to convince me to move there. They’re always saying how it’s so much nicer and a much better place to live than Krudia. I know they’re right but Krudia is where I’ve lived my whole life. My family’s ancestral home. There is so much history, you know?”

Liana nodded. “I understand.”

“Whenever I visit them I make sure not to stay too long. Otherwise, I’m afraid they’ll persuade me to move.” She chuckled to herself. “Is this your first time visiting Krudia?”

“Yes. It’s my first time.” Liana lied. She hoped she sounded convincing enough.

The older woman seemed to believe her words as she nodded her head. “Well, I hope that you’ll find your stay here pleasant and enjoyable.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Liana turned to look out the window, hoping the lady would take it as a sign to end their conversation. But the woman continued to chatter on.

“If you have the time I would highly recommend visiting the Izmirlian Square. It truly is magnificent. The marble statues and fountains. The Ionic columns.” 

Liana turned back to the woman. “Oh it sounds…wonderful” she replied in a disinterested fashion.

The woman clapped her hands once in excitement. “I didn’t even mention the square’s historical significance. You seem like a girl who likes history. I mean, who doesn’t like history. My ex-fiancé was actually a history teacher…” The woman continued to prattle on. Liana quickly looked at her watch and sighed. There were still nearly five hours left for the flight. I should have traveled in first class instead. “Though it may be somewhat difficult to have the best experience at the square, what with all the rallies and loud marches of Dalmar’s supporters.” Liana sat up in her seat as she heard Dalmar’s name.

“Dalmar? As in Davit Dalmar of Dalmar Petroleum Corporation?”

“One and the same.”

“I think I remember hearing that he announced a run for parliament and that it was met with a mixed reaction.”

“I’ve never seen a group of people more devoted to a person. And I’ve lived quite a while.”

Liana looked ahead, lost in thought. “You ever wonder what causes that much loyalty…devotion in a person, that they’d stay by someone’s side  no matter what.” She said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. 

“Hmmm,” the woman thought for a moment. “Either love or desperation I suppose. Though in Dalmar’s case I’d be surprised if it wasn’t the latter.”

Liana glanced out the window again. “I have a feeling it doesn’t matter which one it is to Dalmar.”

…..

Present-day:

The moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the forest and the security guards with a pale, bluish light. The strong scent of pine filled the air, reminding Jason of the smells of Christmas time. All around he was surrounded by an assortment of trees, pine, birch, and conifer. He continued to follow the men as quietly as possible, careful not to step on any twigs or branches lying on the ground. The lights of the mansion had long before faded away into the black of night. Jason guessed that he’d come about three or four miles as he’d been walking for almost an hour. I just hope this isn’t a wild goose chase. Just then the security guards came to a sudden stop. Jason ducked behind a pine tree, keeping his eyes fixed on the guards. The two of them walked toward what looked like some sort of structure. Jason leaned forward trying to get a better look. It appeared to be an old warehouse. He made his way closer to the building and then darted to the trees on the south side of the structure. He reached the edge of the tree line and looked around in all directions. Seeing no one in sight he headed for the south wall of the warehouse. Carefully, he made his way along the side of the building towards the entrance. As he walked he heard male voices, he assumed from the two men he’d followed, grow louder.

He peered around the corner of the building and saw the guards by the metal door. One of the two men typed in a code on the security keypad. The door slid open and the two men entered. Jason waited several minutes to make sure no one else was around. He glanced around once again, before heading to the door. Jason quickly punched in the code he’d seen the guard type in the pad. Good thing I have Mom’s photographic memory. The metal door opened and Jason stepped inside the warehouse. He nearly flinched as the door shut behind him, leaving him in the dark. He still wasn’t entirely sure of this plan but it was too late to back out now. 

He took a deep breath and walked further on. He anxiously looked around trying to locate any armaments that could be there or something that pointed to its location. Jason stayed on high alert, knowing that at any moment he could be spotted. 

Near the middle of the corridor, Jason saw a door leading off into another room. He stepped through the doorway and scanned the space inside. The room was filled with lab tables and accouterments, mainly of a chemical nature. Beakers, tubes, and burners were strewn all over the tables. Some were broken, but it appeared most of the lab equipment hadn’t been touched. In fact, much of it still was contained in boxes stacked against one of the walls. The floor was covered in broken glass and what appeared to Jason as a reddish-brown “dirt.” The lab tables and equipment were also covered in the same substance. Well someone forgot to clean in here. He then saw what appeared to be traces of blood splattered on the floor and walls of the room. One could only imagine what horrors had taken place where he was standing. He swallowed as he felt an eerily sense of uneasiness begin to wash over him. He shook it off and made his way to one of the tables and quickly browsed the items placed on it. Finding nothing he dusted his hands off and headed back to the corridor. 

Jason looked through the other rooms off the hall but found nothing except empty cardboard boxes. At the end of the corridor, he came to a stairwell. He quietly made his way down the stairs to the level below. At the last stair landing, he spotted the two guards he had followed walking down the hall in front of him. The hall was dank and dark, with two doors lining each side of the aisle. Warehouse pendant lights flickered from above, the only source of light in the hall. The only sounds were the scuffling of shoes against the concrete floor and voices coming from farther down the aisle. Jason didn’t know what was said as the conversation was in another language, he assumed Krudian. The security guards entered a side door on the left side of the corridor, the source of the discussion, and shut the door behind them. Jason waited a few seconds and then descended the rest of the metal stairs. He went inside the room to the right.

The room was small and box-like. A metal desk, layered with dust, filled the room. Under the desk was a gray shag rug that looked like it used to be white. He began cautiously pacing the perimeter of the room and walked to the desk, which he began searching through. All he found was some old tattered notes, crumbled together, in a drawer. Jason unfolded and laid them out on the desk. He couldn’t decipher much, but from the chemical formulas they contained, he guessed they probably were reports and results of the lab tests carried out. He placed them back in the desk and took his time closing the drawer. Jason started to exit the room when he felt something blow against his foot, a draft. He knelt down to the floor and saw that part of the wall did not go all the way to the ground. The gap was so obscure you’d never notice it unless you were actively looking for a hidden room or place where something could be hidden. He wasn’t entirely sure but there seemed to be another room behind the wall. Jason examined the wall and the floor carefully, trying to find anything that would open the door. 

He spotted something, a mark on the wall. At first glance, it looked as though only a scuff or screw but if you looked closely enough you’d see that it was a very tiny button of sorts. Jason pressed the button and was rewarded with a metallic click. He took a few steps inside and saw it was a tunnel. Inch by inch he maneuvered his way through the boxes that lined that shaft, checking them each as he went along for any evidence he could find useful. At the end of the long shaft, he saw a door with a frosted window over which “Private” had been printed in gold lettering. Jason stopped at the door and twisted the knob. It didn’t open. He tried again, this time straining with the effort. It still didn’t budge. “This guy sure is a security freak” he muttered under his breath. “Good thing I came prepared.” Jason reached into his right shoe and pulled out a lock picking device under his foot. He inserted the device into the keyhole of the door handle and twisted it to the side. The door swung open and Jason stepped inside the office. 

The room was covered all around with wooden panels and on the wall, directly in front of Jason, was an oak bookcase that took up its entire length. In the center was a large worn mahogany desk, its veneer long ago rubbed off. Behind it was a tattered leather chair. The only things Jason saw on the desk were a hand-blown glass lamp at one end and stationery and a pen on the other. He noticed that the top drawer had a keyhole in its center. He pulled out his lock-picking device again and placed it in the keyhole. The drawer came open and Jason peered inside. It was empty. He felt around the drawer trying to see if there was perhaps something he was missing. He found it. He discovered that the back of the drawer felt slightly different than the rest. The other part of the surface felt wooden while this section was smooth, almost like plastic. Jason decided to investigate further. He pulled out his trusty pen from his suit pocket. He clicked the bottom metal button and a blade released. 

He started cutting around the suspect area. Once he was finished he pulled that section of the drawer away and discovered that it was a computer. The top of it had been made to look exactly like the wood of the desk. Jason laid it carefully on the desk, opened it, and turned it on. The computer screen flickered to life. On the login screen, Jason saw the computer was protected by a passcode. Thankfully, he had much experience when it came to computers and codes and was able to bypass the system in a few minutes. After accessing the home screen of the laptop Jason looked at the names of the different files. His eyes landed on a file titled “Feuersturm.” Meaning “Firestorm” in German which he then clicked on. Jason could sense that he was very close to the intelligence he and Tasha desperately needed. As the file loaded he silently prayed that it was what he was looking for. Even more fervently he prayed that he wouldn’t be caught. That was the one thing they couldn’t afford. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the file finished loading. Jason quickly scanned it. Unsurprisingly, yet still, frustratingly to Jason, the file was encrypted. He sighed. Well, this is going to take a while. 

…..

“And this portrait,” Dalmar motioned to the piece on the wall, “depicts General Davit Ajemian.”

“Davit?” Tasha smiled. “You weren’t by any chance named after him were you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was.”  He leaned in closer to her. “My mother was a historian and said she wanted me to be imbued with the qualities and traits that he possessed.”

“Oh?” 

“Courage. Perseverance. Ambition.”

“You certainly have those qualities and then some.”

“Why thank you.” He took a sip from his glass. “There was a famous battle. The Battle of Sommone. Sommone is a small town about an hour or so away from here. It was the First World War and the Turks had invaded our country. They had nearly taken it over and all hope seemed lost. The country, the army, was prepared to surrender. Except for Ajemian. He led his troops bravely at Sommone and defeated the Turks. That marked the turning point in the war.”

“I can see why he's admired so much.”

“His philosophy on life, especially on that fateful day, is one I have taken to heart. Never surrender. No matter what setbacks, no matter what obstacles, I don’t accept defeat.”

“It seems you and I are kindred spirits. I don’t accept defeat…and I don’t take no for an answer.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re trying to tell me something.”

“I am. You’re just trying your hardest not to listen.” Tasha sassed.

Dalmar smirked and took another sip of champagne. Try as he might not to be, he found himself fascinated by Tasha. The way she matched his fire and wit. Others would find themselves intimidated by his words, and even by his mere presence, but not her. He knew she had her eyes set on learning more from him. And he for his part was reluctant to give her that which she desired. It appeared they were at an impasse. Involved in a sort of dance, going back and forth.  Caught up in a game few knew the rules of, but that they each were determined to win. It was only a question of who would prevail. 

“Speaking of listening. I would love to hear your thoughts on the orchestra.”

“They are incredible.” Tasha glanced, beyond the men and women waltzing, towards the orchestra in the corner of the ballroom. “The musical selections for this evening have been wonderful. I especially love the piece they’re playing now, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The way the music slows almost to a standstill and then how all the sections come join together into a crescendo. It truly is a masterpiece.”

“Mozart was indeed a musical genius.”

“He certainly was,” Tasha responded.

Dalmar placed his champagne glass on a marble table and extended his hand to Tasha. “May I have the pleasure of dancing with you?”

“Of course,” Tasha answered. Dalmar took her hand and the two of them made their way into the center of the ballroom. Tasha placed her hand on Dalmar’s shoulder while he wrapped his arm around her waist. Dalmar pulled her in closer towards him and they began to waltz across the dance floor. Tasha felt unnerved and even disgusted by being in Dalmar’s arms however as they danced she made sure to smile and laugh. As though she truly was enjoying being with him. Tasha knew that she couldn’t let her true feelings and emotions be seen while on this mission or any mission for that matter. It was part of her basic training as an agent. Repeated over and over to stress its importance. Whatever happened on the field, no matter how horrific or unsettling, you couldn’t let your emotions control you or your actions. That choice alone could be the difference between whether or not your cover would be blown. 

Tasha’s thoughts once again drifted to Jason. He had been on her mind ever since she saw him sneak off into the woods earlier that evening. She had tried not to think of him, to not be affected by his actions, so she could stay completely focused on the task at hand. But so far that had proven to be impossible. She couldn’t help but wonder about him. What he was doing. If he was alright. Be angry at him for putting their assignment and lives into jeopardy.

I just don’t understand why Jason had to go off on his own like that. Is he trying to blow our cover? I guess Donovan was right about him. Most first-time agents are too eager to prove themselves. I just had to brush Donovan off, didn’t I? If this whole thing blows up. If we’re discovered…stop it Tasha. You can’t think about the worst-case scenario. Not now. I have to focus on Dalmar. Get the info we need…that’s the only thing that matters right now.

Dalmar looked Tasha up and down, and then glanced deeply into her eyes. “I have to say you look stunning. That color looks divine on you. It brings out your emerald eyes.”

Tasha looked down to the side and gave a slight smile. “I had to look the part. I’ve never had a gala hosted in my honor before. Or at least partly in my honor.”

“For you, I’d host a hundred galas.”

Tasha furrowed her brow “Really? A hundred huh?”

“Or a thousand. Whatever you’d like.”

Is this guy really acting like a love-sick puppy? I’m seriously not getting paid enough for this. But I might as well use it to my advantage.

Dalmar held his arm up and twirled Tasha. “Yet you can’t find it in your heart to even consider my request.” 

“As I said before I’m in the habit of-”

“Not disclosing much to those around you. Though I must confess I don’t understand why. If you look at the great men of history they all had someone they could rely upon. Someone to confide in. Julius Caesar had Cleopatra. King Ferdinand, Queen Isabella. FDR, Eleanor. Nothing would satisfy me more than being that to you. Are you truly going to say that possibility doesn’t even interest you?” She paused. “Besides, I always have my way…eventually.”

Dalmar stopped dancing and thought for a moment. Tasha could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She waited anxiously for his reply. Hoping her words had been enough to convince him.

“One condition”

“And that is?”

“You promise to visit Krudia…and me…as often as you can.”

“As if you could keep me away.” Tasha flirted.

A huge boyish grin spread across Dalmar’s face. “It looks like we have a deal.”

“It appears so” she smiled.

 “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have a limo ride I need to arrange for us.” Dalmar slowly released his hand from Tasha’s waist and walked over to where Wilhelm was standing in the corner of the ballroom.

As Dalmar walked away Tasha let out a breath she’d hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. Yeah, I’m definitely not paid enough for this.

[throwaway3844893]

Imagine: Katniss and Peeta struggle with memories of the rebellion and the thought of having children. Set 15 years after Mockingjay and from Katniss’ point of view.

Note: I wrote this almost four years ago, so it’s pretty choppy and out of character. I decided to post it anyway! 

There are nights where I wake up and not even Peeta can calm my screams. Those nights are the worst of all. But, it takes more of an emotional toll on him, though, the thought that even he can't cure my misery. The problem is, I can't tell him what I dream about. Or I'll risk breaking his heart.

Last night was one of those nights.

My throat is hoarse as I step out of bed, careful not to wake Peeta. I chug a glass of water I leave on my bedside table every night, but my throat still aches.

My covered feet patter down the stars, and I tiptoe quietly into the small kitchen. I pop a toaster waffle into the toaster and prepare myself another glass of water. The chilly air of the refrigerator makes my hairs stand on end as I grab the maple syrup, but I warm up as soon as I close it. Beeping sounds come from the black microwave as I set the time for the syrup to heat up.

I move to open the white-trimmed window, and hear the songs the birds sing in the morning. Warm air filters in through the screen with a light breeze.

My waffle pops out of the toaster and I grab it while it's still hot, and cut it into six individual pieces. I then drown it in syrup, chewing slowly to savor the taste.

When I finish eating, I put my plate into the white sink and tighten my olive green robe. I turn around and gasp as I see Peeta standing at the archway, and he is fully dressed already. I try to ignore the redness under his eyes

"Good Morning," I say cheerfully, smiling at him. I walk towards him and he just stares at me with this blank look. Funny.

I snake my arms around his waist and look at his blue orbs. They gleam like a child's who's played too many video games in a day. And that seems very off.

"Are you okay?" I ask, resting my head in the spot where his heart beats. I feel as his chest rises then sinks as he takes deep breaths. Suddenly, the motion reminds me of the time he almost died in the arena, where Finnick saved his life. The thought of Finnick reminds me of his death. I grip Peeta's shirt, forcing the memories away.

I look up, and see his eyes turning dark. Like they always do when he has a flashback.

I let go of his shirt and take a step back cautiously. He looks up at me, half hijacked, half him, but the real him is falling before my eyes, no longer fighting the mutt inside him.

"I'm a..." he mutters quietly, looking down at his hands, then up at me again. A face of confusion stares back at me, and I have nothing to do.

"I'm a mutt," he says, a look of anger growing in his eyes. I take a few more steps back, but my back hits the corner. If he goes full-out, I'm screwed. The door is all the way to the left, and if I bolt he will run out and we can't have civilians at risk.

"I'm a mutt," he cries again, louder, "I'm a mutt, I'm a mutt! I'm a mutt! I'm a mutt!" He yells, walking towards me at an increasingly fast pace. His hand shakes as he picks up the glass of water I took downstairs, and it shatters into a million pieces next to me as it launches across the room.

"You're not a mutt!" I yell, as he starts walking even faster towards me. The fear grows in me when he's only three feet away and I can see the absolute blackness of his eyes.

"Peeta, you're not a mutt, I promise, you're the boy I love. Please, you're not a-"

He shoves me back into the counter, and I cry out in surprise. He grabs me by the hair and brings my face to his.

"You made me a mutt! It's your fault, my family is dead because of you!" He screams, his fist connecting with my eye. I yell out, and my hands reach to cradle the spot he punched.I manage to break free of his grip and grab onto his arms, struggling to hold on.

"You're not a mutt! You're Peeta Mellark, you're not a mutt!" My voice breaks at "Mellark," and he seems to calm down a small bit.

"You're a baker, a painter, you always double knot your shoelaces, you sleep with the window open, no matter how hot or cold it is," I whisper into his ears.

He manages to sink down to the floor and just starts muttering about how he's a mutt.

"Peeta," I cry, "you're not a mutt."

He doesn't look up, he just puts his hands to his ears and starts rocking, the same words repeating over and over.

I sink down next to him, grabbing one of his hands. My eye throbs violently and aches where he punched me, but my only focus is getting him back.

"I'm a mutt, I'm a mutt..." he says, his voice slowing at every word.

"Shh," I say, cautiously bringing my free hand to his hair, stroking it as he rocks. "You're not a mutt."

When the worst of it passes, and I know he's coming back, I stand up and walk to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, my eye looks terrible. It's bright red and swelling, and there is a small cut where his knuckles touched right below my eyebrow. Makeup won't cover this up. Meaning he'll have to see what he did. That's not what I want. I don't want him to know he hurt me, however much he did.

As I'm gently patting my eye with a wet wash cloth, the door bursts open. The action is so sudden I drop the wash cloth to the floor. It hits my foot and makes me uncomfortable but I'm frozen.

Peeta rushes in, and I can see in his eyes he's him again. I quickly look down, hiding the right side of my face from his. But I can't hide forever.

I blink a long blink, wincing a bit as I do so, since my eye feels like it's on fire. His feet make loud noises as he walks up to me, until the small rustle of the shag rug I'm standing in silences his steps.

"Katniss, are you okay?" He asks, taking another step towards me. I move my head, opening a white drawer and pretending to be busy looking for something.

"Moderately," I say, and as I feel his hand touch the exact spot where my back hit the counter I tense up. "F..." I whisper quietly, not wanting to say the full word.

Taking notice of my tenseness, he moves his hand to my shoulder. "Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, a little less convincing. And I'm a terrible liar. Sometimes I wish I had his skills at painting and lying. Both would be handy at this point.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you're okay."

Now I've really blown it. Peeta's going to know either way. Slowly, achingly slow, I turn to look at him. My eye throbs as I meet his eyes.

A look of guilt floods his face when his eyes meet mine. They slip towards the wound he gave me during a flashback.

"You said you were fine," he says angrily through gritted teeth, his fists clenching together.

"I am fine," but my voice is small, like a child's. And as if the world was against me, a shooting pain goes through my back as I lean, making me wince very noticeably.

"Your eye isn't okay. Your back isn't okay, what else isn't okay? What else did I do to you, Katniss?" He's in tears now, fighting down cries as he realizes what "he" did to me.

"Peeta, it wasn't you, it was Snow, it was all Snow, but he's dead now, we're safe, I promise you I'm okay," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"No," he yells, shoving me off him.

"Peeta-"

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep waking up to you in so much pain and not being able to help you. That hurts me, Katniss, and it makes me feel so guilty because I know you're dreaming about me when I'm having a flashback, and you dream about me killing everyone you love. And... and I just can't live with that. I can't live like this. Not knowing after a flashback if I hurt you or not," he says, looking at me with the ultimate guilt and hurt in his eyes. My hand rests on the marble counter top, and I grip it hard for support.

I never realized I hurt him this bad when I wouldn't let him comfort me.

"I..." I stutter, my voice low and quiet, "I never realized that... that it affected you so much. I'm so sorry, Peeta, I really am. I just..." I don't know what to say. There are so many things he needs to know, that he needs to be told about how I feel, but how am I supposed to bring those problems up when they don't even relate to this situation?

"Katniss, are you not telling me something?"

I let go of the counter, sliding down until my bottom hits the shaggy rug underneath my feet. Peeta kneels down beside me, looking at my face in a concerned way. I look down, not meeting his eyes.

"I don't dream about you having flashbacks. I don't dream about you killing people. I dream about..." a lump starts to form in my throats, the guilt setting in. This will crush him if I say it, because this is the one thing he's hoped for, and asked for, in the fourteen years we've been married.

"What is it that you dream about, Katniss?" His warm hands reach mine, and he holds both in his lap. The white rug's soft spirals are the only thing I look at. I will myself to look up, and the look in his bright blue orbs completely breaks me. It's as if my heart shattered in my chest. I know, I know, if I tell him he will feel the same way, only ten times worse.

The dreams are so vivid. Him, sitting in the meadow behind our house, laughing as he watches our daughter dance and run, her long, dark hair trailing in a braid that mimics mine. Her blue eyes shining with happiness as she plays. Our son, only three years younger than her, his small and chubby legs struggling to chase his sister. His blonde hair shines in the sun, and he is a replica of his father except for my gray seam eyes. And then me, sitting on a small blanket next to Peeta, watching them as he does. Our hands are intertwined, and my head is leaning on his shoulder, covered in a white shirt that buttons up three times at the top. I look at his prosthetic leg, and it reminds me of what we have overcome. We have beaten this world, and now we can enjoy peace.

The girl with the brown hair leaves her brother and comes up to me. All that fills my sight is her beautiful face, her eyes so innocent, burning into mine with wonder and curiosity. As I stare into her, or Peeta's, eyes, she begins to speak.

"Mommy, what do you know about the Hunger Games?"

That's when I wake up. Those are the nights Peeta can't help me. Every time, the same dream. The same fear that consumes my entire being.

"Peeta... I dream about us. Our future."

"Our future? What's bad about that?" He asks, real worry in his voice. A finger gently strokes my cheek, wiping a tear away.

"It's not... it's... Peeta god damn it, I know this is going to break your heart and I just can't say it," I sob, the blue eyes of our hypothetical daughter burning into my brain, filling my entire mind with "Mommy, what do you know about the Hunger Games?" Echoing throughout my head, engulfing me with her voice.

I finally crack. "I dream about kids! Our kids, the one you've been asking and asking for ever since before we were married. That's why you can't help me, because it breaks my heart knowing I'm breaking you're heart in the process. I dream about how beautiful they are, how happy we are, but then she comes up to me every time and asks me about the Games and I just cannot have that!"

He doesn't even try to hide the hurt and disappointment in his voice, "You don't want kids."

He's crying now. It makes me feel like the single worst person on this planet. I made my true love's heart shatter. I look down at my hands, ashamed, and start picking at the rug.

"I-I should've told you before, I just didn't know how because you were so hopeful and you want them so, so badly."

"If you didn't want them, why wouldn't you just tell me from the start? Why did you have to put me through all of this and get my hopes up?" Peeta yells, snot dripping out of his nose. His voice is cracking, like his whole world was just destroyed.

Maybe it was.

"I didn't know. It's not that I don't want them, Peeta, it's the fact that they're going to have to learn about the world we lived in, about the Hunger Games, and I can't have that. I want kids, so, so badly but I just don't know if I could do it. I'm sorry."

He just shakes his head, and hot tears drop into his hands, and the cheeks that have always been so soft are a bright red.

"Peeta, you're the love of my life and seeing you like this... if this is what my decision is causing you to feel, I'll have children," I whisper, putting my hand on his shoulder, and I realize he is wearing the shirt he wears in my dreams.

I think about it. I want kids, I've always wanted kids ever since I was a kid. I just didn't want to bring them into a world where the Hunger Games existed. That world doesn't exist anymore. I live in the New Panem, where everywhere is even. There are no Hunger Games or President Snows. There's only dandelions in the spring that bloom in the meadow and beautiful leaves in the fall that illuminate the forest behind. Yes, they will have to learn about our past. They will have to learn about how Katniss Everdeen, at age 16, competed in a fight to death and started a war. About how their father was captured and tortured to the point where he only remembered the things Snow lied about to him. They'll see the scars on us, they'll hear the scars left on us as we hold each other or scream from the nightmares that have plagued us for years. But they won't feel the pain Peeta and I felt. They'll feel the joy of love and peace.