#i say like I don't have a huge bag and a drawer full of stuff for textile crafts and other things scattered elsewhere

[umbracirrus]

Trip to the city today... Might be able to buy some more stuff for cross stitching :3

[normal-internet-user]

Hi there! i read your percy one and it was sooo so good, i was wondering if you could do “I didn’t know where else to go” with a percy x reader. and it could be like some sort of an enemies or rivals to lovers, i’m also a huge angst girlie and idk why.

thx so much hope you’re doing so well and have the best day!!🥰🥰❤️❤️💙💙

I'm a total angst girlie too, make me an emotional mess please and thank you-

....................................

SCARED FOR YOU

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: Percy Jackson shows up at your front door bruised and battered, god this boy was going to scare you to death..

Warnings: Angst; mentions of injury (not very descriptive); Hurt/comfort; No mentioned godly parents for reader.

Requested: Yea

GN Reader!

The last thing you ever expected to see at your door was your very own son of Posiden on the verge of unconciousness.

"Percy?! What the hell happened?" You let out a low grunt when he practcally collapses into your arms.

"I didn't know where else to go." He whispers, shuddering.

You huffed, hauling him into your apartment. Luckily your parent was at work, so you didn't have to worry about explaining anything.

You moved him to the couch as gently as you could, finally taking in the full stretch of his injuries.

"Oh for the love of Zeus, Jackson." You mutter, your heart racing, "Just- sit still. I think I have some ambrosia squares in my room."

"'Kay..." Percy mumbles, his hand pressed tightly to his side while his face was twisted into a grimace.

You rushed to your bedroom, digging around in your bags and drawers until you found the little tupperware container that held your emergency ambrosia.

You then moved to the apartments small bathroom and grabbed as many medical supplies as you could carry.

With your arms full, you ran back to the couch, nearly tripping over the rug in your hurry. You haphazardly drop the bandages and other stuff onto the coffee table, handing Percy afew of the ambrosia squares.

You decided to speed up the process by getting Percy a glass of water, but with the state he was in, he'd still need patched up.

"Were you followed by anything?" You asks quietly, lifting his shirt to clean one of the larger cuts the ambrosia couldn't deal with.

"No, I wouldn't have showed up here if I was." Percy says, setting the now empty glass on the table, "Thanks. For helping me."

"Well I'm not just gonna let you bleed out on my foorstep." You grumble, wrapping his chest, "You're an idiot. Ya know that? What were you thinking? You know what, nevermind. You weren't thinking."

"Aw, are you worried?" Percy asks, seemingly amused at how upset you were.

"Of course I'm worried!" You snap, glaring up at him, watching the amusement fade away. God he was so insufferable. Stupid Percy Jackson and his dumb pretty face.

"You could have died, Percy." You say angrily, pushing alittle harder than you mean to on one of his bruises, "But everythings just so funny! Haha I'm Percy Jackson and I don't care if I get eaten by a friggin' monster! Everything's just dandy!" you rant through gritted teeth, stomping over to the trash can to toss out the bloodied cloth you'd used to clean his wounds.

Percy stares at you for a second, before guiltily looking down at his shoes, "Sorry..." He mutters, "I uh.. didn't mean to freak you out."

"Well mission failed, Percy." You say, before taking a deep breath and sitting next to him on your couch, "I just... dammit- your really important to me, okay? If something happened to you-" You cut off your own sentence, crossing your arms.

"You scared the shit outta me.." You whisper, wiping away the building tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

Percy sits silently for a second, then he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so your pressed flush against his chest.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, his head tucked away in your shoulder, "I'll... be more careful.. just please don't cry..."

You sniffle, wrapping your arms tightly around him, careful not to irritate any bruises that still remain after the ambrosia. You press your face into his hair, the few tears that escape your eyes getting caught in his black curls.

The two of you sit there like that for gods know how long, just seeking the familiar comfort of each others touch...

....................................

This one took me a minute, but I think it turned out well. Lyn Lapid is the best writing partner ever, her music helps me focus SO MUCH-

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 21

Words: 2.6k

Lyla puts her dangerous plan into motion…

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

I never found it easy going home. The good memories still stung and the bad ones festered in dark corners of the huge house that was now only occupied by my mum. She rattled around inside like some kind of ghost, clinging on to a long gone past, always dressed immaculately with her make up and hair just so, like at any moment my dad might suddenly materialise and whisk her off to a fancy restaurant or a dinner dance.

She looked surprised when she answered the door, even though to my knowledge she rarely had visitors and I'd promised her that I'd come. "Lyla! You came... I thought you'd be too busy."

"I said I would didn't I?" I replied, entering the hallway as she stood back to let me in, her eyes flicking down to the holdall that I was carrying. "I... errr... thought I could stay... just for tonight."

My mum didn't protest, but I saw her stiffen as I walked past her. I chose to ignore this, setting my bag down on the floor and making straight for my dad's study.

The sight that greeted me made me suck in a breath, surfaces were littered with sheets of loose paper and the floor was covered too. Every drawer had been removed and emptied of its contents and then strewn aside to leave the empty carcasses of the desk and cabinets.

"I didn't realise how much stuff dad had. Didn't the agency want all this lot back when he died?" I finally turned to my mum.

She stood there, hands limp at her sides, glossy eyed. "Well... you know your father. These were all his own files. I think he might have taken copies, made his own notes. I'm sure he wasn't supposed to but he was so dedicated..."

A wistful smile found its way on to my lips as I looked back through the years, picturing my dad sat at this very desk, head buried in a mountain of paperwork, trying to make connections. My mum always used to ask was he married to her or to the job? It made me think of my own dedication and the information I myself amassed on cases. Whoever coined the phrase 'the apple never falls far from the tree' wasn't wrong when it came to me and my dad.

"What did the police say? Have they got any leads?" I said, stepping forward to leaf through the papers on the desk top.

"They didn't say a lot. They didn't even dust for prints. When I said nothing valuable was taken they just scratched their heads. I wondered if I should call Paul... get someone down here from the agency..."

"I'm here now though aren't I mum?" I quickly interjected. "Don't worry. Just leave it with me. I can do all that needs doing."

I turned to carry on looking through the files, expecting my mum to leave me, but I could feel her presence there as she lingered. I turned to see her face etched with worry. "What's up?"

"Is there something that you're not telling me?"

I felt the tension run instantly through my muscles, but tried to stand loosely. It wasn't at all like my mum to be intuitive about my feelings, usually she barely noticed... or appeared to care.

"No," I lied. "I mean yeah... there's a lot I'm not telling you, but you know full well the rules of the agency. There's stuff you don't discuss, even with family members."

I watched my mum carefully, suspiciously.

"Because you're acting very jumpy. And there's been a car sitting outside the house since you arrived. A Range Rover."

My heart lurched as she started to speak but by the time she'd finished I knew that she was only talking about George. Paul had insisted that he'd come along when I'd told him that I was visiting my mother's for the weekend and I'd not argued. To be honest, after the break-in I was relieved that George would be there to protect my mum rather than me, and also he'd be the perfect unwitting alibi to the reckless plan that I'd cooked up.

"It's just this case we're working on, it's... hotting up I guess you could say. Paul's just being cautious and getting someone to watch the agents whilst they're not at work. There's nothing for you to worry about."

This didn't seem to appease my mother. If anything she looked even more on edge. "That's exactly what your father said. 'Things are hotting up.' A week later he was dead."

With that statement she turned to leave and I resumed my task of trying to sort through the pile of loose papers when I heard her voice carrying to me from just outside the door.

"And look out for that silver framed photo of you and your father that he used to keep on his desk. It's disappeared but it must have been knocked off. It's my favourite one of the two of you. I didn't want to disturb anything to look for it but it must be there somewhere."

I worked tirelessly all afternoon, and by the time the sun had started to dip below the horizon I'd managed to sort all of my dad's files into some kind of order that made sense. There was plenty there about the Chappells which I'd been expecting. I knew my father's involvement with ending the family's reign of terror which culminated in the head of the family, Tommy Chappell's death. I'd heard the stories of my dad's bravery countless times and the accolades he'd received for his part in it.

It had become one of my favourite bedtime stories too as a child. My dad would perch on the edge of my bed and recount the tale of the hair-raising pursuit through the streets of London. I'd lie there, listening rapt as he told how he'd finally caught up to Tommy after pursuing him doggedly for years, then his demise as the chase ended with Tommy's car plummeting into the frosty waters of the Thames. It had been a winter like no other, the relentless bad weather meaning that the river had burst its banks. It was so bad the divers had to wait days to retrieve Tommy's car and his body along with his associates were never found, washed away in the icy currents out into the estuary.

To my frustration the files stopped right there. The rest had been taken. There was a gaping hole from around six months before my father had been killed, leaving me blind to what he'd been investigating in the lead up to that fateful night. I sighed, slamming my hand down on the desk in exasperation, the motion sending the computer keyboard sliding across the desk. It released a scrap of torn and crumpled paper which had been caught underneath which now fluttered down to the floor by my feet.

I stooped down to pick it up, noting a sliver of an image that looked somehow familiar to me on the twisted edge, and as I smoothed it out on the desk, my breath caught in my throat.

It was the same image Andrea had shown me of six year old Van, recently bereaved and haunted looking, his blue eyes full of unimaginable horrors. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Van's family's slaughter would have been among my father's investigations, but seeing a picture of him here, like this, in my father's recently ransacked study, just set the hairs raising on the back of my neck. It felt like the truth was dangling in front of me but every time I reached for it, it just moved further away.

The rest of the evening was just killing time. I sat down for dinner with my mum and she took great delight in telling me all about the successes of my school friends who I'd long fallen out of touch with. The tales of whirlwind romances, grand weddings and arrivals of little bundles of joy went straight over my head. I wasn't interested in any of that. All I could think of was my plan for that night and how I was going to execute it.

I feigned a headache and excused myself up to bed early, taking a long, hot shower. I tried to tell myself that my reasoning behind going to see Van alone wasn't due to my own selfish desires, but more to protect my fellow agents from danger. Maybe if I'd dressed more practically than the sheer lingerie and figure-hugging dress that I slipped into I would have been slightly more convincing.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. With every passing minute my heart raced that bit more and my gut clenched with anticipation. I gave myself a last look in the floor-length mirror, satisfied, slipping into my boots and long coat, wrapping it tightly around myself.

What was I really hoping to achieve? It was ridiculous to think that I could somehow entice Van to give up his murderous ways with some kind of cheap seduction. I was no better than some of the junkies that I dealt with on this job, sweeping my good judgement and morals aside just for the price of a fix. But Van was the ultimate high and I knew that I was powerless to resist.

My mother retired to bed early just as I knew she would, and as soon as the house was quiet and settled I crept stealthily down the wooden staircase. My misspent youth afforded me the knowledge of every step which creaked and every floorboard that groaned under my feet as I made my way unnoticed through the house.

I'd purposefully parked my car around the back of the garage, ensuring it was masked by the heavy foliage which grew there. Whilst George sat like a sentry at his guard post at the front of the house I released the handbrake and let my car roll down the shallow sloping back driveway to the lane which ran along the end of the rear garden, and I didn't fire up the ignition until I was a good distance from the house.

It was a clear night, the moon a perfect sphere in the sky, it's luminescence coating everything in a silver sheen. I drove in the direction of the city centre, past the cemetery, trying to will away the thoughts of my dad resting there. What would he think of his precious little girl, hellbent on self-destruction, walking willingly straight into the lion's den? Van had warned me countless times not to go to him and I knew damn well that he would be angered by my foolish actions. More than that. He would be incensed. But that didn't deter me. I was in far too deep for that.

The city thrummed with life, especially this part which was crammed with bars, nightclubs and casinos. I parked my car on a side road a few streets away from Main Street and made my way there slowly. It should have been easy to blend in with the crowds of late night drinkers spilling from doorways, but I felt like I stood out, like people might take one look at me and see my shameful secrets laid bare. Guilt did strange things to a person.

I kept close to the buildings, using entry ways and overhanging awnings to shield me from anyone who could be watching from a high vantage point.

I heard the club before it came into view, the low throb of the bass like some pounding heartbeat, matching my own. Then as I rounded the corner, slowly, keeping my back against the wall, the gaudy neon lights beamed out, illuminating the queues of customers waiting in line to enter.

I checked my watch. Still an hour to go before the target was expected to make his arrival, but I knew Van would already be lying in wait. He was a professional and he wouldn't leave things to chance. Still keeping close to the wall I raised my head, peering up at the derelict building opposite the club. I pictured him up there now, head cocked whilst he looked through the rifle's sights, finger poised on the trigger. The thought of him being so close brought on that familiar ache, spurring me into action despite my nerves.

I back-tracked down the street that I'd come from and took in my surroundings. I'd studied a detailed map of the area and I knew that the disused building, an empty department store, had a loading bay at the back. It would likely be the easiest way to gain entry.

I located it easily, stepping as softly as I could as I advanced into the darkness. The glow from the streetlights didn't reach into the murky depths and I soon found myself in complete blackness as the concrete awning above me blocked the moonlight too. I moved further forward, my arms outstretched, blindly groping. It was a relief to feel the solidness of the brickwork under my fingertips and I moved carefully along until the texture of the brick gave way to smooth wood. I let my hands move over the door, cursing softly when my fingers caught on a jagged edge. This was hopeless, I couldn't see a thing.

I was loathe to bring any sort of attention to myself but I was totally blind, eventually giving in and locating my phone in my coat pocket, aiming the glow from the screen at the door. It had been prised open, the padlock that had fastened the door hanging off the fractured metal clasp. That just made my heart thump even faster, imagining Van standing at this very spot recently as he forced his way in.

My foot caught on something which skittered across the tarmac with a loud metallic thunk and I froze, ears straining for a sound, terrified that I'd given my presence away to someone hiding in the shadows. There was a faint scuffling sound some distance away, like boots scraping on tarmac.

Fuck! Why hadn't I brought my gun?

My only weapon was a knife that I'd slipped into a holster strapped around my thigh.

My vision had become slightly more accustomed to the gloom and I caught sight of the object that was now lying by my feet. It was a rusted crowbar, presumably what Van had used to prise open the lock and then discarded. I instantly stooped down to pick it up, holding it poised as I turned slowly in a circle, ready to swing it in an attack if needed.

A shrill cackling laugh suddenly sounded followed by high-pitched excited chatter and I whirled around just in time to catch sight of a group of tipsy, giggling girls, all high heels and shimmering dresses, walking past on the street beyond. Lives flowing on, completely oblivious to the crime and corruption that was under their very noses, lurking in the shadows.

I supposed I should envy the girls and their Saturday nights spent sipping cocktails and drunk dancing and flirting with cute guys in bars. In contrast here I was, dicing with death and risking it all for a dangerous man that I barely knew. Any semblance of a normal life just seemed a world away now. Irretrievable. But I'd made my choice.

Quiet fell over the alleyway once more and a small amount of relief gave me my breath back, but it was short-lived as I contemplated what came next.

Still gripping the crowbar I stepped forward and used my other hand to ease open the door. It swung open surprisingly easily with no more than a whisper of a creak. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Slushies and Chalk

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I have special markers that only color in the book they come with, some chalk that Em says has to wait until we get to the house but that I can decorate around the pool any way I want, some little plastic dinosaurs that I love so, so much, and some glow bracelets.

They're for tonight too.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah grasshopper?"

I'm a little wiggly but not bouncing.

My seat belt is on.

"How much longer? Can we go to the beach when we get there?"

We crossed the bridge already and that feels like hours ago.

"Can't see the GPS from back there? Twenty nine minutes and no... no beach today. You needed a break from the sun so we are going to stay at the house, unpack and play for awhile and once the sun is less intense we'll play in the pool, okay?"

I kinda wanna beach but I wanna play in the pool and use chalk too.

"Okay. Can we order pizza?"

"No, I'm gonna cook. Let's save pizza for tomorrow after we've been at the beach all day. We'll be tired."

He has good plans even though I want pizza now.

"Oay. Hey Emmett?"

He chuckles.

Maybe I'm asking too many questions.

"Yes?"

"Are we gonna see Rhys and Quincy tomorrow?"

"Do you want to? Tomorrow's their last full day, said they're leaving Friday around lunch. Probably checking out at eleven a.m."

I want to do everything.

I want Emmett all to myself but I also want to see Rhys.

I want to spend a whole day in bed sleeping and having lovies but also want to go to the beach and eat ice cream and go to the arcade and show Rhys my dinosaurs and play in the pool and play more games and do chalk and and and...

"If they're leaving I wanna see them."

"I'll text him tomorrow morning and see what they're up to. If you change your mind before then just let me know."

Perfect.

"Okay."

Em always makes things work.

"I want a slushie. Can I have a slushie or a milkshake or something?"

"Oooh, frozen coffee sounds good. Dunks it is. They have strawberry and I think orange, we'll have to see when we get there."

Ten minutes later I have a strawberry slushie in my hands.

It's big and has a huge straw and the best part?

Whipped cream on top.

We pull up at the house and I grab my stuff and Em's backpack and go unlock the door while he gets all the heavies.

Walking back in feels like we never left.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah?"

"We left the floaties in the pool."

The beach ball is stuck in the corner and the little tube is upside down.

"I was hoping we'd be back and if not, figured the next folks might like them. I have two more in my bag, I'll blow them up too."

Emmett saying... 'blow them' ...makes me giggle.

He's emptying the cooler and I carry my suitcase upstairs and start putting things back in my drawers.

It's easier than hanging.

He comes up a few minutes later with his suitcase in his arms.

"I'm so glad we could come back."

"Me too. I have to take my dishes downstairs."

I want to use them for dinner.

"I wanna chalk, please? It's shady outside."

It is too, mostly.

Okay only a little bit.

"Wear your hat and keep your shirt on and sure, go ahead grasshopper. I'll come out when I'm finished in here and get your neck and legs with the spray."

It's mostly my cheeks, nose and shoulders that are still a little pink so I'll be fine.

"And blow up the toys," I remind him.

"Yes. And after dinner we can swim and if it gets dark you can put on your glow bracelets."

"And you. So I don't lose you."

"Sure, you can decorate me however you want. Wait, I take that back. I forgot who I was talking to. I will wear some glow bracelets if you want, Finn."

That reminds me.

"My tattoo, Emmett. I need to find a place and make an appointment."

"If you're sure, I'll look around at reviews and make you one. How big?"

I run inside and upstairs and bring down my bag of shells.

I pull my favorite out and show it to him.

"I want this," I tell him, holding it against my arm.

"Same size."

"Is this something I need to ask Finnegan about?"

Huh? Oh, he means...

"No. Same me and I want it."

He holds his hands up in surrender and laughs.

"Okay, just checking. Go make me a chalk picture."

"Okay."

I make a rainbow because I wanna use ALL the colors and a flower and then I remember my dinos.

I run back in to grab them and make some trees and a lake and a volcano for them to play in.

Daddy comes out after a million years, grabs the yellow and makes a sun.

"Dinner's in the oven, we've got forty five minutes to play."

That's a long time.

I hand him my triceratops even though it's one of my favorites.

"Here you go."

[letsdeclutter]

Reaction: The Home Edit

So I swore I was going to talk about decluttering books I read, then worked myself into a state of paralysis for fear that I might express dislike for some element that someone else found incredibly inspiring.

Disclaimer: Any decluttering book you're inspired by, that's awesome! I'm talking about my own reactions and experiences. I am not you. You are not me.

The Home Edit: A Guide to Organizing and Realizing Your House Goals, by Clea Shearer and Joanna Teplin, was a mixed experience for me. The book is so hugely popular that I had to wait about a month to get a copy sent to my local branch library because the reserve list was deep.

It's a gorgeous book. It's a glossy tribute to putting things neatly in categories, in matching containers.

After a year of dealing with my mother's endless quantities of everything -- dolls, room fresheners, jewelry, beads, scissors, colored pencils -- some of the photos took me right to the edge of panic.

Some of my reaction is that years of choosing to live in tiny apartments -- and of choosing to not be Mom -- has left me calibrated way, way lower on Tolerance for Stuff than the typical American. I consider myself to be kicking over the traces at considering owning a fifth pair of sandals, even though I live in a climate where I wear sandals 7-8 months of the year.

If you're coming down from 3x this much clothing, that closet is a miracle. If you own maybe 1/4 as much, it's excess.

Also, everyone has more tolerance for quantity in their hobbies. This book is ultra-gorgeous for hobbies. The Home Edit holds out the prospect that you can have all the wonderful hobby supplies that you want, if you just get rigorous on containers.

As it happens, even with a 90-95% cut from what was here a year ago (almost entirely Mom's stuff, but a little of mine), I still have enough fashion doll and dollhouse gear to benefit from being in clear plastic containers. And I had, in fact, done the cull-and-sort routine a month or two ago, so I'm happy with the container sizes.

However, the containers are unlabeled, and when it comes to the happy plastic drawer units for accessories, that lack of labels inspires dread. So into the guest-room closet we go.

Can we get an "oh crap!"? Not only is the labeling haphazard, but in the rush to "finish" the guest room, I'd shoved in here a number of unmade decisions that I'm not happy to be reminded of.

First, I made a list of what's in each box, so I could write legible labels.

This is where the observant person notices that I collect Jaydon vintage dollhouse furniture, which means I'm a glutton for punishment who'll likely never find a living room sofa or a full kitchen and bath.

If I ever regret this decision, at least I know what box to grab to start healing.

The box is not entirely Jaydon, but that's enough label to direct me to the box I want.

Similarly, not everything under Strombecker is Strombecker, but it heads me in the right direction. (That green grandfather clock is from a Christmas Store in Mystic Village.)

Can we get another "oh crap!"? The contents of the bin labeled "Metal and Resin" are somewhere between "random" and "dismaying." I clearly need to do a second pass at this bin. There is metal or resin furniture toward the bottom.

I'm not showing you the interiors of the fashion doll boxes because all of those clothes are neatly organized into separate plastic bags by size or theme, so all you see is a blur of plastic bags with vague colors.

At this point, I looked at the gray flowered boxes, the quasi-Chinese hats, the tray that says "Paris" on it (all Mom's tastes, not mine) and remembered that the only reason I had kept them is that they might "work" somewhere as we redecorated. We now have redone the guest room, and I don't feel a yen to use them. So down they went to the donation pile!

Here's the result of this effort. It does look better.

it still feels like "a lot" to me, but there's nowhere further that I'm ready to cut, and we do have the space. Except for the 1:24 bin (a category where I just have a large reserve), everything in the dollhouse bins is slated for specific, real, upcoming projects, so it's not going to stay at this level of stock forever.

I feel like I accomplished something, but I'm also not about to go decant all of our pantry stock into matching glass containers. Heck, I even vetoed continued decanting of cat food into the plastic pitcher thingies Mom used, as every time I went to pour food out, the top would come off and spill dry cat food all over. Turns out Dad knew the top always fell off and nobody warned me. We now buy bags we can lift and pour from the bag.

[anne-white-star]

Vampire pertwee x reader my love

Notes: reader is a recarnation of jon his past wife takes place during 2021 the pandemic never happend au

Prompt line : 51. I thought you died (alone a long long time ago).

Tag: @watermonkeystuff

Warnings : mention of blood, murder and death

Words: 1920

1871

The life of a vampire can be lonely specaly in a big cold castle. But that changed when he met you, you came at his door wounded, bleeding and close to passing out from the bloodloss.

"Excuse me sir but could you please perhaps help me i was atacked by some robbers they took everything and killed my horse" she was swaying on her feet

"Of course" the tall man said "tell me whats your name ?"

"My name is y/n and i came from (your home town)"

"My goodness thats far away please come in then i can take a look at your wounds".

"Thank you" she started to sway even more with eatch step

"Let me carry you, you clearly arn't able to walk up the stairs"

"Thanks sir"

"Please call me jon" The man picked her up And brought her to one of the many rooms.

That was the night he met you changed him forever

The day he lost you was one of the days he lost his happiness.

You had gone to the market that day to get food for dinner when there was an atack and got slain in the battle it was absolutly horible, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jon was absolutly heart broken about the news he got, the men who had killed you left the town and flet, he felt anger to those men and went in search. When jon found them he kiled the men he took plesure in their screams of agony as they lay dying on the pavement of the coblestone road. After that he swore to never kill anyone ever again simply because you would have wanted that.

That was 150 years ago.

2021

Jon had viseted your grave many times after your death, he took care of the plants and brought new flowers everytime the old once had died. "Oh i miss you so mutch my darling, no words can say how mutch i miss you, i just wish that i was there to protect you" he brushed his hand over the beautyfull headstone engraved with your name and a tiny little portrait.

Jon had a broach that was decorated with locks of your hair (that was costume to do back in the day when people were mourning a loved one) he had it pinned on he his white blouse just above his heart, jon dint look out of place of course he stil lived in the old castle and somethimes enjoyed to wear his old outfit but he needed to get with the times he had no Idea what those little boxes were that people used what were they called again? Phones or something.... nevermind he thought

"Thill next time my dear y/n"

He stood up And left your grave, When jon walked out of the cemetery he walked right trough the park, he was looking around at people relaxing and playing until his eyes fell on a woman who sat under a big willow tree that was near the lake, she wore a long back summer dress had (your color and lenght hair) next to her lay a summer hat and in her lap was a sketch book.

Jon took a second good look at her he wasn't dreaming the woman looked exactly like you , it was rude to stare he knew that but he just could't take his eyes off you, he was thinking should i aproace her or not? He srugged and went to her. The woman looked up at the sound of somone walking up to her.

"Hello miss i saw you sitting all alone drawing and i was wondering if you would mind me sitting here with you"

"Oh not at all please sit down"

"Thank you, tell me what are you drawing?"

"I saw a few birds sitting in the tree and i got some insperation to draw them "

"May i see it?"

"Sure" she handed him the book

"It looks amazing mind if i look through the book?"

"Not at all go ahead"

"My my you quite got the talent miss?"

"Oh y/n y/l/n" she held out her hand

"Jon, jon pertwee" he shook her hand

"Nice to meet you jon, tell me have we met before? You look familiar".

"Umm no? I don't think so" of course he knew that they met before you had the exact same name as his wife.

"Oh what a shame I really could have sworn i have seen you before"

"Its fine, tell me dear are you perhaps intresed in taking a walk? "

"Sure why not" y/n put her stuff in a bag and hung it over her shoulder and put the hat on her head.

Jon grabed her arm and leaded the way "tell me y/n What do you do in your daily life?"

"Wel i have a job that im working for and some studdys inbetween"

"Ah i see, what about hobbies?"

"Oh i enjoy drawing in my free time and love music"

"Oh lovely, i had a wife who enjoyed the same hobbies as you"

"Had?"

"Yes unfortanetly she past away some years ago"

"Im sorry to hear that, i bet that the time she spent with you were some of her best"

"Yeah i hope so she was the light of my life, Anyway miss y/n would you like to come with me i really Would love to hear more about you and see more of your art"

"Sure why not " y/n started to pack her things,

Y/n wasn't afraid of him for some reason the felt save with him "so tell me where do you live jon?"

"Wel do you know the old land house up on the Hill outside of town?

"Oh yes i do, sinds a young age i felt drawn to the place even if i have never been inside there"

"Do you have the feeling that its familiar to you in one way ?"

"Now you say so yes i do, i had a dream once that i was inside the house reading infront of the fireplace and then a pair of arms wraped around me and huged me close it was very comforting"

"Hmm strange oh wel, Ah it looks like we are here" Jon opend the door and let her in

Y/n gasped it was exactly like her dream a coutch infront of the fireplace a rug lay on the floor embroidery with flowers, red curtans and beautyfull paintings, what caught her eye was one particular painting wich hangs next to the window, it was one painting of a woman in a victorian dress her hair fell in curly locks over her shoulder and her eyes looked at her.

"She looks just like me"

"That was my wife her name was (your full name) she was the love of my life until she got killed by some robbers"

"When did she die?"

Jon sighed and looked down sadly "she died (your birthdate) in 1871"

Y/n looked at him in shock "hold on somthing is not adding up here, you said she died in 1871 but its now 2021 thats 150 years ago????, what are you?!"

Jon looked up in embaresment "wel the true is that im a vampire i have been alive for over 300 years now"

Y/n was backing away but stoped in her tracks when she got an other vision "Oh my god!"

"Whats wrong? "

"I saw her again and you were there, you took her in she was wounded you took care of her"

"Y/n do you believe in recarnation?"

"Yes"

"When were you born?"

"(Your birthdate) why"

"Because its the exact same month and day that she died but its more than 100 years apart"

"It al makes sens now the visions, the feeling to be drawn to this place seing you in some of my dreams but with blury face my goodness"

"Y/n i hope its not weird but i would love to get to know you better if you don't mind that "

"No of course i wouldn't mind i just need time" she softly smiled

"Are you feeling scared?"

"No not at all i feel really save so save i have never been in my entire life"

"Come with me i want to show you something" jon softly grabed her hand and took her upstairs, they both stoped at a door "this was my wife her bedroom before we got married, i havn't been in here for a long time". He opened the door and they both were greated by a big canopy bed made up with silk (favorite color) sheets

"You can stay here as long as you like y/n, in the closet are some of her dresses they might fit you"

"Thanks jon, is it alright if i look around?"

"Sure dear go ahead, dinner wil be ready in an hour"

"Alright thanks " she smiled once jon was gone y/n started to look around, she aproched the wooden closet that stood against the wall once she opend it She was greated by dresses in all kind of difrent colors and materials " oh my gosh" she wispered she took some of them out the closet

but what was weird to her is that the clothes din't add up with the time line because there were some clothes from the 1880s 1890s and 1900s thill 1910s in there "hmm thats weird oh wel never mind a dress is a dress after all" she took a dress from the late 1880s and a pair of shoes and started to undress

Y/n was suprised with how well it fitted the corset wasn't to tight and she could move freely "it must be faith" she giggled "now lets see what els there is to find"

Y/n aproched the desk that stood in the corner of the room, she sat down in the chair and opend one of the drawers and was greated by art suplise "oh wow" she opend an other one and in there wer some hard cover books y/n grabed one and opend it, it was a portrait of jon then y/n remembered a dream she had once but the thing is that it wasn't a dream but a memory she sat in the garden sketching jon while he sat in the shadows reading a book.

"I really am the rencarnation, my love" she wispered

An hour went by and y/n went down stairs for dinner

"Ah my dear do you Enjoy your new room?"

"Oh its absolutly perfect i love it thank you"

"Its alright dear, now come on lets get dinner i bet that you are starving"

"Jon i got a question"

"Yes"

"What if im in deed a rencarnation of your late wife what then?"

"Then i wil make you imortal so that we could live together forever"

She looked at him '"jon c.. can i kiss you?"

"Of course"

Y/n stood on her tiptoes and placed her lips on his, memories from her past life came back to her "Oh my God i remember everything"

"I thought you died A long long time ago" jon cried softly

"I did but i got a second chance and i promice that this time it Wil be forever"

"Glad to know that dear" he huged her "now comeone lets have dinner"

And both of them knew now that no matter what they will be there for echoter the end

I hope you enjoyed reading 😊

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 24

I should really put effort on summaries, right? Anyways... Enjoy! ❤️

Table of Contents

Going Dark - Part 3

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow, Scotland

Roach never would have guessed that MacTavish was a big time. Their 'old' house was already a mansion, complete with guest rooms, extravagant furniture and even an outdoor pool. Roach could stay here forever.

He was laying on a queen sized bed relaxing after a tiring chase earlier when Ghost knocked on his door and let himself in.

"What's wrong mate?" he asked, lifting only his head. Ghost leaned by the door and crossed his arms.

"You know how I got into a little argument with France back in Brazil right? Well, I still regret it ever happening…" he frowned, as shown by the way the fabric of his mask twitched.

"You regret which part? The fighting or the telling her what you feel?" Gary asked, cornering the ever vague Simon. He always does that when it comes to asking for advice.

Ghost ran a hand across his face and groaned.

"Bloody Hell, mate. Why do you have to ask those kinds of things?" he complained.

"So I could be clear as to which one I should recommend you to do." He replied quickly. He was very willing to help, but if Simon refuses to cooperate, then maybe he could handle it on his own.

"There's still one thing… I've been meeting with Alexandra not just for intel… " the tone of his voice was hesitant but he took a sharp inhale and continued.

"... we've also been sleeping together. No strings attached. For her it eases her tension from all the work while I try to forget about my feelings for Francine."

Gary didn't know what to say. Simon wasn't the kind of person to give up easily, and he fully understood the reasons for his latest actions.

"Well, it looks like Francine already made her choice, right?" Gary asked, trying to confirm from Simon that he already lost the battle.

"I'm not quite sure. Everytime I see her, she's physically distancing herself from Soap but later that night, they actually slept beside each other. She's making me confused and it still makes my heart beat for her…" Ghost admitted. As tough as he is on the battlefield, so was his admiration toward Francine. Gary pondered on how to help out his friend in this love triangle situation he caught himself in, but every direction he thought of would result in Ghost actually ending up sad.

The discussion was interrupted when a plane was heard from the distance, as it approached the nearby open area. It looked like the girls made it home.

"Looks like they're here." Roach sounded excited while Ghost looked worried.

~

It was impressive how they managed to bring most of their stuff from Brazil here in Scotland. It wasn't that much but the idea of packing things for six people in a hurry made Roach impressed.

"How did you bring most of this stuff?" Roach curiously asked Maxine as he helped her carry her stuff.

"Well, Samantha asked for help from his Dad and they immediately flew to Brazil." Maxine replied cheerfully, Roach loved how she managed to see the bright side of everything amidst the panic.

"So will Samantha-"

"No. They had a long talk with his Dad and she felt much safer back here with us. Her Dad wanted to offer help now that the New York Attack was over, but Samantha insisted, especially now that they're out hiding."

"Doesn't he have the power to like, pardon us for being wanted? That would make life much more easier for us."

"I thought of that too… but they're seeing Shepherd differently now. He's gone mad. And they want to corner him. Any action involving him may result in a global cripple. And I just heard all this on the plane ride here." Maxine frowned.

"Then that makes our job of locating him all worth it." Roach smiled giving hope to Maxine.

Maxine just nodded, her face was full of fear and doubt. She just wished all of this was over.

With Soap probably asleep, Roach had the liberty of touring the girls around the house, it was huge and spacious that each of them could occupy a room with about two more rooms to spare.

"Man, I could stay here forever." Roach mused as they walked the halls of the second floor. These four rooms are already occupied, most of the empty rooms are over there…" Gary pointed to the other end of the hall. Maxine looked at France and nodded as they both agreed to stay in one room.

"What about you, Miss Samantha?" Gary asked with sophistication, imitating a butler. Samantha giggled and blushed.

"I'll actually be sleeping with Alex, thanks Mr. Sanderson." she replied, playing along with Roach's role play. For a short moment, Roach felt relaxed. He hasn't felt like this for a while and it was too overwhelming. But while the enemies hid in the shadows, he was sure the team would be up for a tough fight anytime soon.

Despite being tired, Roach couldn't sleep. He felt that there was something or someone else he needed to consult. So, he decided to get up and get himself a glass of water down the kitchen. While he could hear himself gulping down a glass of water, he could also hear faint thumping from the basement. With high alert, he began descending down the stairs to investigate the source of the sound.

It was Simon. He was still up and doing sparring rounds with a red punching bag, each of his punches sent the bag swinging violently.

"You okay?" Gary finally asked, alerting Simon of his presence.

"Can't sleep." he said nonchalantly, giving the punching bag another mighty punch. Roach took a minute to admire the huge gym Soap had, each piece of equipment probably spent a fortune. He slowly paced to the small area filled with equipment and grabbed himself some boxing mitts and a protective helmet.

"So, why don't we resume our little talk?" Gary called as he presented himself to Simon on full boxing coach gear. Simon immediately positioned himself and Gary did the same as they began training with the intention of talking it out.

Simon's punches were heavy, Roach could feel a little emotion on each hit he made and it was starting to make him unstable.

"So, anything you'd want to discuss?" Roach initiated, his hands carefully met his punches as they circled around the area.

"I've been trying to ignore her, Gary. You see me try right? But the more I don't think of her, the more excited I get when I accidentally see her. It's frustrating." He explained in between his punches. There it was, the thing bothering him the most.

"What did she say back in Brazil? She probably said something that kept you from moving on. I can't think of anything else that might cause you to feel this way, unless you're lying." Roach tilted his head so he could see Simon's reaction. His punches stopped coming and he just stood there, his hands dropped to his sides.

"She… she didn't say anything… but she distances herself to John while I'm around."

"John MacTavish or John Price?" Gary interrupted, in an attempt to brighten up the mood, but instead all he got was Simon's 'are-you-kidding-me-right-now?' look.

"But when I'm not around, she finds time to see him…" Simon continued. Gary took off his gloves and tapped his shoulder.

"She… she was being considerate." Simon concluded. It looked like Gary did his job. He could feel Simon's shoulders relax upon realizing what was actually going on.

"Despite all that… she sacrificed a little just to not hurt you." Gary added, he had no intention of making Simon guilty but now that he realized it, he was making an impact toward the relationship that was blooming between Soap and France.

"Thanks, Gary. For being a great friend…" Ghost took off his gloves and walked out of the gym.

"... and the worst therapist." He joked with a grin as he walked up the stairs and left Gary in the gym.

"I hope you find your peace, Simon." Gary muttered.

The following morning, the team was already busy walking around the house. Soap was on the phone with a long list of things the girls ordered for their restock. It was planned that for the time being, the team was to stay in the MacTavish residence while Nero and Shepherd were off the grid.

Price and Jack started their own little command center inside Soap's father's office just by the living room. They began creating connections to their closest contacts to track activity from their enemies. Ghost seemed to be not around at the moment and Gary guessed he's still asleep.

Soap nodded a greeting to Roach as he walked by him on his way to the kitchen. Maxine and France were out opening drawers and anything in the pantry to clear up space for supplies. From the kitchen window, Gary spotted Samantha, Alex and Nikolai in front of a truck. Gary overheard that Nikolai wanted to go back home and he guessed today was the day he'd do so.

"I didn't know what kind of sugar you needed so I kinda ordered a bunch of em." Soap announced to the sisters and they laughed.

"The clerk kept asking me of brown, white, confectioners and some other and honestly I don't know which." he shrugged and scratched his head.

"Hey man, I was just wondering… why did you choose the risky life? When you had everything you ever needed here?" Gary asked the question that has been bothering him since he got here.

"I dunno Roach. It's just that I knew it was calling out to me… You also sound like my Mum when I told her I'm joining the force." he chuckled. Gary just nodded but still didn't understand his logic. But he dismissed the thought as soon as Maxine and France asked for his help reaching something by the cabinets.

The rest of the day was busy. Once supplies arrived, everyone else was preoccupied. Lifting boxes, arranging items, looking for intel. It was like they made their own 141 base inside the house.

By the time they're almost free, Roach and Maxine were already in the kitchen preparing for dinner.

"So, any new dreams lately?" Roach initiated as he sliced through the vegetables they're cooking.

"Piece by piece. Last night I remembered having gum stuck on my hair on picture day. I cried a lot." she giggled. Roach smiled, he was glad she's getting her memories back which made him remember of Samantha's case.

"Ow!" Gary winced as he accidentally cut a short scrape on his thumb. He was so busy staring at Maxine that he forgot he was chopping.

"Don't worry. It's just a small wound." Gary assured as Maxine pulled his thumb close to her mouth and blew air through it, just like when you're a kid and you do that to ease the pain.

Gary couldn't help but smile at her immediate action. She also looked concerned and worried about his welfare.

"Hey Max." he whispered, making the girl turn to him, her face was so beautiful in Gary's eyes.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing… It's just that…"

"What is it? You're making me worried"

"I really really like you, Maxine Winters."

Maxine looked at him in the eye, the eye contact they were doing was starting to make the world fade behind them.

"Guys! I have bad news." Soap interrupted, causing everyone to form a small circle by the living room.

"Ghost left. With a note saying he'll try to gather more information on Shadow Company with Alexandra's help. He says thanks and that he'll see us all soon." Soap summarized the note. The room fell silent.

Next Chapter : Off the Grid

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[rewind-on-purpose]

Storing Food With 'No Space'

So, my last commentary on keeping several months worth of food in your home got me thinking about people who, like me, live in small apartments, but are probably not as fortunate as I am to have an actual pantry built into the kitchen. They're probably thinking "that's great, but I don't have that kind of space". So I wanted to take a moment to talk about ideas for making space for food.

I am not a doomsday prepper, but as I said previously, I live in an area with unpredictable/severe weather, so having food on hand in case of emergencies is necessary. Combine that with Corona and our lovely American political climate, and I believe that not having a few months worth of food on hand is a huge risk. That being said, let's get started:

Get a free standing buildable pantry like this ClosetMaid pantry, and put it wherever it will fit. Livingroom, dining room, heck, put it in your bedroom. This particular one pictured is the cheapest of the cheap particle board garbage (I would know, I had one at one point; got it for $50 on sale at Walmart, it promptly fell apart when I tried to move after having it for 2 years), but nicer ones are available if you have the cash to spend. I'm just trying to think very budget friendly. Don't forget to check out thrift stores for this kind of thing too which brings me to my next idea:

Repurpose an old bookcase, entertainment center, or dresser. This is the same idea as the pantry above, just a different shape or no doors. If you already have a bookcase or dresser or other piece of furniture that can hold other things, fill it with canned goods, bags of rice or beans, boxes of pasta, etc. Just because it was made to hold books or clothes, who says you can't put food in it? And if you don't have an extra piece of furniture, thrift stores are a great place to look.

Repurpose your linen closet. I have never lived in an apartment that didn't have a linen closet in the hallway, usually by the bathroom. It's normal purpose is for holding your towels, extra sheets and blankets, and whatever else you want to stuff in there. From what I've seen of friend's apartments, it usually turns into a kind of giant junk drawer, full of rarely or never used odds and ends, extra cords for who knows what, that weird small kitchen appliance that your mother got you but you haven't even opened, etc. If this is you, then go through the stuff, get rid of what you'll never use, and make room for food. Tada! Now your apartment DOES have a pantry, it's just not next to the kitchen.

Slim rolling racks. This one was found on Wish for $26, but again these can be found at thrift stores, and they're not all that difficult to make yourself if you prefer. These come in many sizes and are designed to roll into slim spaces that normally don't get used, like in between the fridge and the kitchen counter, behind the sofa, behind your bed, even in your closet behind your clothes. Just use your imagination and you could probably find quite a few places to stash these.

Under the bed storage. The above are a do it yourself from The Budget Decorator, but there are plenty more designs that can be built or purchased, from cheap plastic bins for a few dollars to big wooden rolling drawers, and even mattress platforms with built in drawers. As always, check out your local thrift stores.

Wall shelves and organizers. This particular organizer is a do it yourself from shtf preparedness (and several other places, I noticed), and again, there are purchasable options as well. This is something that literally just goes wherever you have wall space and a wall stud (because cans are heavy), whether that's in the kitchen, dining room, livingroom, bedroom, whatever. Put them above other furniture like dressers or couches to make use of all your space. Shelves are a great option for less standard items like bags of rice or beans, other sizes of cans, jars, or boxes of pasta. Regardless of which option you choose, just don't discount your wall space. Note: I realize that not all apartments will allow you to put holes in the walls to hang things, so make sure you check first.

Behind your books on your bookshelves. If you're a bibliophile like me, you have shelves and shelves of books. But often those shelves are designed to be deep enough for large coffee table books, which means you have quite a bit of room left in front of or behind your paperbacks.

I mean, look at all that space! And that's just one cube in a 9 cube case! I managed to fit 16 standard 15 oz. (give or take) cans in this (just under) one square foot shelf. If you used all 9, that's 144 cans, and that's not counting using the space on top. This can apply to other display shelving if you have room behind the items, and if you don't want to see the cans behind whatever it is you're displaying, put a piece of neutral colored fabric over them.

I'm sure there are other places I'm not thinking of, so feel free to reblog this with your own suggestions, because I'd love to hear them. Just be creative and don't let a lack of space keep you from being prepared!

[lovelystarlings]

Chapter Five - Neville’s Very Clumsy

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The next morning was, eventful, to say the least. Camille had always been an early riser, her parents had insisted on her and sisters waking up at 5 am on the dot every morning, they had said it was to prepare them for when they themselves had families to wake up for but Camille knew it was just to torture them more then her parents already did. So when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in the velvety covers that they were provided, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her. There was no nagging mum leaning over her, no crying Gabrielle in the bed next to her and no annoying perfect Fleur singing in the shower for everyone to hear. It was quiet.

Just how she liked it.

Spinning her legs over the edge carefully, trying not to wake up the sleeping Hermione next to her, Camille walked over to the bathroom door that was left open on the opposite side of the strangely large dormitory.

Picking up her uniform on the way, Camille entered the bathroom quietly, looking around in awe at the extravagant manner of the simple room. On the wall facing the door stood four separate sinks, each having a mirror on the wall above and a small chest of drawers underneath them. Seeing as no one had claimed one yet, Camille chose the one closest to the shower, for once getting first choice of something. Placing her wash bag next to the sink, she carefully hung her uniform over the railing by the shower, not wanting to crease it straight away.

Grabbing her hairbrush out of her bag, she began to run it through her hair gently. Having slept with it in plaits had done her a huge favour, the usual straight and thick mess had been tamed into ringlets that now sat elegantly on her shoulders. Pinning her hair back with a clip, leaving the bottom layer down, Camille felt at peace with how she looked today. Sure, she wasn't as beautiful, after all she was only young, but she wasn't necessarily ugly (dear god did she hate that word), and that was enough.

Hearing movement from the room next her, and the familiarity of the other girls voices, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt quickly over her hips, Camille turned to the door smiling at Hermione, who seemed shocked that someone was up before her.

"How are you up so early?" She spoke, her hand running through the bundle of curls that sat on top of her head. She walked over to the sink beside the French girl, placing her own stuff down gently.

"You know what they say," spoke Camille, brushing past Hermione with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. It also didn't help that Camille knew where none of her classes were. And neither did Hermione, Or Ron. Or Harry.

Though after fumbling about the school for a long time they had managed to find most of their classes. And Camille had discovered a lot about her teachers.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Camille had noticed that Neville particularly enjoyed this one.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up, which didn't help Camille in the slightest considering she had no idea who either of them were.

Professor McGonagall had to be Camille's favourite, however. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Camille had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Camille a rare smile, both girls giving each other a proud look as they linked arms and skipped off to the next lesson , leaving the boys and their matches far behind.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Camille vaguely remembered her father telling Fleur (and Fleur told her) about an encounter he had with a vampire once, a very lovely vampire he had told her. His name was Carlisle, and he was a doctor. Camille had been shocked that a vampire could be a doctor, but her father had never lied to Fleur once.

Professor Quirrell's turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Camille had befriended the Weasley Twins then and there, she thought they were charming and funny, and rather attractive if she was honest. They could well be veela, she thought, despite knowing that they were pure blood. She wondered what their mother and father looked like.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Camille and Hermione had been lucky enough to grab seats at the front, neither girls wanting to miss a thing. However, if Camille had known who their Professor was, she would've sat at the back, or even better out of the classroom.

His name was Professor Snape, and he was a tall man, who always seemed to be dressed in a black coat that billowed behind him like the wind itself followed him. His hair was pitch black and greasy, like it hadn't been watched in months, years even.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, Hermione scribbling down most of it, the sound of her quill annoying Camille slightly, though she didn't say anything. She'd hate to insult the girl. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Camille heard a loud noise behind her, and turned round to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, shaking with laughter, and she had to hide a snicker herself. The three looked like utter pillocks.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling, despite Camille's attempts to calm her down, not wanting her friend to embarrass herself more than she had. She had the feeling someone was gonna snap, whether it be Harry or Snape.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Camille laughed harmoniously at the sass Harry held in his voice, drawing the attention of the class to her. She had forgotten that most of them had probably never heard veela laugh before, and hers probably had a strange effect on the bunch, considering the majority of them were pre-pubescent teenage boys.

"Sorry," she squeaked, and slumped down in her chair. Hermione patting her head patronisingly. Though she too felt strange at the heavenly sound that had escaped the French girl's mouth.

"Sit down and be quiet," he snapped at Camille. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, though Camille had already been making her notes during the commotion. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Idiote, thought Camille. The poor boy had been living with muggles his whole life, how could Snape thing he'd know the simplest thing about potions. Idiote, she repeated.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Camille who had been paired with the blonde boy, the only two whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Camille flinched, seeing the hurt look on the poor boy's face, unlike Malfoy, or rather Draco as he had asked her to call him, who had laughed.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Camille and Hermione left the dungeon as soon as they could, both wanting to avoid the catastrophe of cleaning up the spilled potion.

[aleatoryw]

I'm only part way through Marie Kondo's Netflix series but honest to god her method of reassuring you that you're not obligated to keep things you don't want and that they will actually keep you from displaying and seeing what you really love has been revolutionary to me. I've been hanging onto so much stuff I never used because I felt like I might as well have it or I've had it for such a long time it felt like I couldn't not have it. saying thank you for the time we've spent together and then giving it away has helped me clear two huge garbage bags and counting of clothes from my bedroom and now I can more easily find what I actually want to wear. a lot of it didn't fit anymore since I've had it over a decade and looking at it, trying it on, and giving up my drawer space to it would make me so unhappy, and who needs that?? I got five or six new shirts to replace the huge pile and I'm actually excited to have them in my wardrobe. so anyone who's upset that Marie "tells you to get rid of your stuff" is full of shit, what she's really doing is helping you get rid of what you already don't want but don't know how to get rid of.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Best and Worst - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

Finn is back and I open the door as soon as he knocks and he comes in smiling.

"Hey darling."

"Hi Emmett, mind if I change?"

Out of a monkey suit?

"Never."

"Are we going anywhere, do I need clothes?"

"Do you want to?"

He might not want to sit around my house all afternoon.

I'm going out later so I'm more than happy to be lazy for a few but I'll suck it up if he wants to go out.

"Not really, honestly."

He strips and then walks over.

"Rule number two, isn't it? You get to manhandle me a little bit now."

He kisses me then and I love that he initiates it and I am more than happy to wrap him up a little and let my hands roam.

I like my rules.

A lot.

I'm not a huge fan of rules in general but these two have my full support.

I'm glad he doesn't have a problem with them either.

"Was it a nice service?"

"It was," he mumbles into my neck as he leans against me.

"Glad you didn't mind me coming back, thanks."

"You're welcome anytime, darling, anytime."

The dryer buzzer goes off and I have to let him go.

"I'll be back in a minute, make yourself at home."

When I come back upstairs he's in the kitchen munching on apple.

"I needed a snack, hope that's okay."

"That's what it's there for. There's watermelon and some strawberries in the fridge, too."

He's eyeing up the blueberry muffins that are on the counter.

"Those are for your rushing to work mornings, save a couple."

"You're sweet but I told you, Emmett, you fill me up plenty."

That boy.

"Finn, do NOT start anything."

"I'm not, I'm just saying. I'll take one tomorrow, they're gonna ask if I've eaten breakfast for the blood draw and I don't think I should tell them about my morning endorphin shake."

Morning shake. I internally groan.

"No, please don't. I have to take these upstairs."

"I'll come. Hey, I was thinking that if I wash the stuff I have here I could just leave it?"

I like the sound of that and it'll be easier on him.

"Sounds good, just toss it in my hamper and I'll wash it for you."

"I can do it Emmett."

Apparently just a look stopped him, interesting.

"Put it in the hamper."

"Okay. Thank you."

He goes through his bag while I fold and put my stuff away and I make a drawer for him in my dresser.

He objects to that too but he doesn't need to live out of a bag.

He finally agrees when I tell him that I'll need somewhere to put his washed things.

"Can we talk about last night yet?"

I don't want to have to cut it short to head to Dad's.

"Sure."

He sits cross-legged on my bed and grabs a pillow to put in his lap.

"I'm fine though, are you fine? Or are you not and that's why you're asking?"

He's worried and it's cute but that doesn't mean I'm not going to put a stop to it.

"I had a blast, darling. I'm not sure where I came up with that stuff, I do NOT usually talk like that but I guess reading erotica helps. But you're the one I'm worried about."

"I'm fine. Sore, I'll admit that I'm a little bit sore but other than sitting very gently on the pew at church and wondering if I was the only one there with a sore ass, it is soooo okay because it's worth it. Really."

Good. Okay.

"So, favorite part?"

"Oooh, fun game but you have to answer too, okay?"

I nod and he continues.

"It was my fantasy, I loved all of it but hmmm, let me think. Oooh, when you said you were gonna hurt me, damn, all the master talk, honestly. I mean, crap I'm getting hard again and my balls already ache. Threatening to do it again, that's my favorite part. Can we? Sometimes?"

Was that an 's' on sometime?

"Your turn."

"We can do it again sometime if you want but it'll be your decision, you just let me know if and when, okay?"

I get a big smile and an enthusiastic nod.

"I guess the sounds you made, your whimpering sort of made me crazy. Okay, really made me crazy. All of it, I just got so wrapped up in the whole thing, Finnegan. Scared me a little that I was so into it but I knew you were loving it even with all that begging me to stop. It was hot as hell, really. And I loved playing with you beforehand, a lot."

"I liked that too. My imagination was going wild and I loved being at your mercy like that. I have to admit that I sort of liked not having to do anything, either. Like I didn't have to worry about pleasing you, is that awful?"

He needs reassurance but I know exactly what he means.

"I understand, we did have the whole 'topping is hard' talk, remember?"

"Exactly. Yes, like that but even more. I don't have everything figured out yet but I do know that when I'm in headspace I don't like to think too hard about anything, I just want to relax and if you want to touch me I'm happy to let you as long as I can just not really worry about it. It's nice. It's really, really fucking nice."

"Good. Okay, harder question. Least favorite?"

It's important but that doesn't mean it's easy to ask him that.

"It being over?" he teases.

"No, I'll try, let me think. But honestly Emmett... I liked all of it. Whatever I manage to think of is still going to be good. Um, hold on."

I'm more than happy to wait.

I'm glad he's giving it some thought.

"Am I allowed to say the nerves? I was worried I would go too far and that you weren't enjoying it as much as I was. I was worried I'd freak you out or that you'd stop. Is that a fair answer? I would tell you if anything made me uncomfortable but really Emmett, I promise, it was amazing. Maybe the spankings if I have to choose a real thing. I mean, in the scene they were great but damn, they sting. Now you."

No spanking outside of rough scenes, got it.

"That's fair and it's my answer too. I mean, I was in charge and saying all that shit and I was scared I'd actually scare you or push you too far. I didn't really want to hurt you and I still did, I'm sure."

"Not much, really. Yes, the end was really intense, my ass got a thorough fucking, but I liked it. It fit, you know? Um, maybe too much info but we need to figure out a way to get me really well prepped without so much work, maybe, you know what I mean?"

God he's cute when he blushes.

"We could just plug you for awhile first."

He's even redder now, it's adorable.

"True story, I've never used toys. I wouldn't even know what to try, or use but whatever you think."

"I'll put some of that huge wad of cash you left me into a few toys for you then, darling. Not even a vibrator? Anything?"

I'm going to get him a plug set, that's for sure.

Work him up slowly while he's watching a movie or something.

Damn, now I'm getting stiff.

"I'm not a prude I guess I just never really needed them or, I don't know. But no, nothing, so surprise me."

"Okay, I will." 

I don't love shopping but this will be a lot of fun. 

Hopefully I can get stuff here before next weekend. 

The sooner the better.