#i want to get a ceramic bird bath

[teawithhazel]

How a Birdbath Changed my Witchcraft

This is a personal story that I wanted to share in hopes that it could help other new witches. It's a long one, so buckle up.

One of my goals this year was to forge a deeper connection to the land spirits around my home. I am still very new to the craft and this seemed like a nice way to dip my toes into spirit work while also creating an outdoor sacred space. Little did I know the impact it would have.

I did some research on offerings to land spirits and took into mind that critters may try to eat said offerings, and settled on just leaving water or inedible things. I also had to consider my less than open minded neighbors, they are decent people but I don't feel comfortable with them knowing I'm a witch.

A birdbath seemed like the perfect way to leave offerings as well as disguise the altar from my neighbors.

I set it up in early spring, after the frost was done. It was just a simple ceramic one with blue glaze (I wanted green, but they were sold out), I filled it with water and a small stone so insects could crawl out if they fell in, said a few words of thanks and did that everyday.

At first, it seemed like just a mundane task. I wasn't really feeling much from what I was doing until spring rolled into summer. I got the feeling like I had to keep that bird bath filled. I felt a pull in my gut that I still can't explain.

Then I figured out why.

Drought.

The worst my area has had in years with unbearable heat and humidity. We didn't get rain for months and when we did it was a tiny drizzle that barely dampened the ground. Most of the plants in my area dried up and went dormant.

My little birdbath was an oasis and was getting more than birds as visitors. Deer, squirrels, raccoon, skunk and opossum were using it to find vital water. I ended up getting a 5 gallon bucket to fill as well because the birdbath would get drained so quickly.

The deer got use to me and would wait at the edge of the woods for me to bring water in the mornings.

I could feel the gratitude every time an animal came for a drink. They had nothing but dry grass for miles and in their own ways they showed how thankful they were.

Yup, one of the deer stashed her kid right in my garden for a week. I usually don't read too much into animals as 'signs' from the spirits, but that is a little hard to ignore.

That was over 4 months ago. My garden thrived despite the drought. I had an abundance of cucumber, tomato, herbs, carrots, onions, and sweet potatoes this year.

Was my success because of my offerings to the land spirits? Some would say yes, some would say no. All I know is that I had the best producing garden in the neighborhood this year and a much deeper understanding of the importance of water.

[lemon-popp]

Spending time with the sith: episode iv

Pairings: Qimir x Black! female oc

warnings: Unprotected sex, Fluff, swearing, pining, slight rejection, Typos (sorryyyy)

words count: 5k

masterlist

Luna’s body is lifted onto the elevated bed with Qimir aiding her every move as if she’s some hurt bird while lifting each of her legs. Although she deeply appreciated his tender help, it wasn’t really necessary, it was just a twisted ankle. She wasn’t ran over by a ship and left completely disabled. But despite these thoughts, she basks in this feeling.

Back home she has always working. Never had a break since the day she was old enough to join the workforce. It was tough at first, but eventually she got used to it…because she had to. It wasn’t enough just living off the salary her mom made at the apothecary, she knew she needed to help. Though much protest from her mother, Luna insisted, Sacrificing her freedom to give her mom even just the slightest break from being the sole provider. Allowing her to reduce her hours so they can spend more time together.

As of recently though, her mom quit. Not by choice of course, but because of her rapidly declining health that caused her to even have difficulty standing at the cash register. The day her mom returned home with the news, Luna knew that she had to step up. She knew that she had new responsibilities on her dainty shoulders, responsibilities to which she took on with no hesitation. She would do anything for her mom, which meant picking up multiple shifts, getting another job and taking care of her mom’s every need. So it’s safe to say this girl was on the clock 24/7. So yeah, she’s definitely appreciating this treatment, ignoring the guilt that sat in her stomach, just for this moment.

“I’m gonna go make dinner,” Qimir’s pleasant voice seeps through her ears like a musical melody. Her big brown eyes meet his, and she almost completely forgets about relaxing. Her workforce robot brain rebooting into action.

“Oh i can help—,” Before the eager girl can finish her suggestion, Qimir’s places his large and on the top of her thigh, as a means to stop her.

“No,” His eyes glare deep into hers, his eyebrows low and face straight as if he was scolding her. Luna’s eagerness dissipates almost immediately and she cowers like a scared puppy, but a heat swells up to her cheeks, ”I got it. You just lay there, looking beautiful and rest. okay?”

The dominance oozes off his tongue as every word that was spoken enunciated meticulously in a stern tone.

He meant it

Qimir wasn’t sure where this came from. Any of this. The hospitality. The tender words. Just being giving in general. He just wanted to give to her. Whatever she wanted. He even wanted to give her everything he never received.

Luna nods in agreement, sinking back down into the cotton sheets that covered his luxurious bed. Qimir turns on his heels and makes his way to the kitchen, his large figure disappearing from her view.

With him gone, Luna takes this time to ‘tame’ her hair, or at least that’s what the people at school and work would say whenever she wore her hair out. She loved her hair, her mom always encouraging her to have her on style and to feel confident. It just so happens that when she felt most confident was when her curls framed her face like an angel in the clouds. The brown lengthy coils that resembled a male lion.

But right now, as her hair was still damp from the bath, took the opportunity to make a slick low bun with her hands. She didn’t necessarily feel like Qimir was unwelcoming to her hair, or her self expression in general. Especially after the way he manipulated it in his large hand, careful not to entangle is fingers inside the thicket. She decided to style her hair simply because she still had no bonnet and didn’t enjoy waking up with knots, tangles and dry hair.

After fifteen minutes, the slick back bun was a slick as it could be and as if on cue, Qimir entered back into the bedroom with one ceramic bo in hand. Steam escaping from the dish.

Excitement rushes through Luna, preparing her taste buds for the delicious soup she had yesterday until the bowl finally arrived in her hands.

vegetables? really?

Qimir catches how her face that was just bright with excitement, dropped when faced with the dinner for tonight. Her thick eyebrows furrow in confusion and plump lips pouting. He shakes his head at her in amusement.

Funny that she wants the soup now.

“What’s the matter?,” Humor coats his sentence in a teasing manner, a smirk crawling across his face, knowing exactly what is the matter.

Luna rolled her eyes at him, taking the metal fork in hand to stab the sautéed carrots, broccoli and cauliflower in spite. Masking the slight disappointment in her face and her annoyance at him noticing this disappointment.

Truth is she felt bad for judging his food so early. Granted it did look like a boil of green thick bile, but nonetheless it was still rude of her to have act that way. Luna sighed lightly, bringing the fork to her lips consuming the vegetables, which were perfectly seasoned.

is this man a chef? holy cow this is delicious.

“mm, never a chef. just had enough patience to learn,” Qimir answered the question that rang in her mind for the third time that day. Not caring about hiding his power anymore. Who he was. He trusted her.

Well, he trusted that she wasn’t working with the jedi. She’s far too emotional to be with them and there’s no way she’d just freely let him roam her mind if she were.

Luna’s eyes flick up to meet his, her almond eyes burning into his with a dissecting squint. Her mind ran a million kilometers per minute, trying to once again understand how. The question repeats around her brain as it attempts to make up reasonable answers, but to no avail. The only way is to ask.

“Are you a jedi?,” Her voice clear, eyes locked as she takes another bite of her food, awaiting for his confession.

Him being a jedi is the only possible explanation. Well…besides the fact that he’s alone, on this planet.

Qimir surprising breaks the interrogating eye contact with the beautiful girl in front of him, his gaze dropping along with his mischievous smile.

He figured this moment would come. I mean, he fully expected it with how he was recklessly answering the burning questions that played in her head. But the feeling that washed over him as the words left her sweet lips, was something he would never expect.

His stomach dropped, heart slowing to a deathly rate and his skin grew cold, but he still broke out in a light sweat on his forehead. The thought of telling this compassionate, caring, and charismatic woman that he was a fallen jedi, who murdered and felt no guilt, crushed him. The thought of her possible reaction crushed him. Her eyes succumbing to fear at the realization that she has been living with an evil sith. He feared this. But why?

she’s not yours Qimir. she was not and never will be yours. if anything this is for the best. Telling her will drive her back home, back to safety, back to her mother and away from you.

A lump forms at the back of his throat, this prominent adams apple bobbling as his tries to swallow it away. It lingers anyway.

With a sigh, he reaches out to grab Luna’s injured ankle to which she slightly winces at, but doesn’t protest as he places it across his thick lap. His eyes focus on the bare skin of her leg, avoiding the intense chocolate orbs that stared at him with concern.

Qimir’s large calloused hands caress her injury, his fingers massaging the tender bone. At first it just felt like a deep contusion, but at the seconds went by the pain that was once there is completely gone.

he just—he just healed me.

Her eyes widen at her realization as she slowly circles her foot, testing whether she’s being delusional or not. The bleeding organ in her chest thumps harder, her brain buzzing with questions all while her fingers grip onto the warm bowl.

Qimir softens the grasp he has on her ankle, letting his hands fall off of her smooth skin. Taking her sudden change in demeanor as a sign to give her space.

The burly man sighs, the most defeated he has looked in their shared time together.

“I am not a Jedi, Luna. Not anymore,” Qimir sighs but spoke directly, firm with his words. His hands that now sat on his lap, fidgeted the the hardened callouses that formed on his palms.

Luna’s brown eyes light up at his confession and small smirk forming across her lips at the thought of being right. Or so she thought.

“I was thrown away by my master. I was unable to tap into the power of the force with their methods. I was unable to cut ties with my emotions. Unable to let go of the life i had before them. My family. They just expected me to just…forget about them. But i did, to the best of my abilities.”

Although Qimir’s strong voice doesn’t falter while telling his story, Luna can sense how heavy it weighs on his heart. The way his dominant eyes that never shy away from intense eye contact couldn’t even meet hers. The way his heavy shoulders slumped in an egregious posture.

Luna takes the bowl in her hands and sets in down next to her to instead reach out for his large ones. Along with his hands, she also take his gaze. His saddened eyes finally met her warms ones that reassured him.

“Q, im so sorry,” Qimir flinches at the nickname. It may have been something so small, but that small thing lit his chest on fire and warmed his cheeks. His natural confidence started to sprout again thanks to her.

“I use the force on my own terms now. By using my emotions. my anger, my sadness, my passion. my desire. I use it. i have used it on you. to heal you. to read your mind. and I have used it on others. on the jedi”

Luna’s compassionate smile drops for a second, letting the last sentence register in her head.

i have used on others. on the jedi.

To luna it seemed very clear what he meant by that statement. Of course he wasn’t reading their minds to flirt with them easier or using it to heal them like he was doing to her. He used it for revenge.

The thought didn’t necessarily scare her, knowing that she personally didn’t need to fear him. But coming to the realization that this man that she has given her trust to has possibly killed, did shock her.

This is the same man who carried her bridal style over a twisted ankle. Who comforted her while ranting about her mother’s sickness. Who fed her meals, bathed her, and pleased her like no other, including herself. So Qimir being a murder definitely failed to run across her mind.

However, this realization didn’t change anything. “thank you for telling me,” she spoke gently, almost in a whisper-like manner.

“Why aren’t you scared?,” Qimir chews on his pink bottom lip, confused on how such a sweet soul like her isn’t running away at his confession.

i read your mind. i lied about my identity. i killed. why is she still sitting here, staring at me with those gorgeous eyes.

“Why would i be scared of you, Qimir. From the sound of it, you were taken away from the purest love anyone could experience and forced to sever those ties. You were never allowed to heal from such a traumatic event. Unable to build a potential relationship to fill that void. You’re not a bad person. You’re just hurting,”

Luna’s rogue thumbs draws a soothing pattern on the back of his veiny hands, making sure that he not only heard her words, but felt them too. Feeling how much she truly sympathized with him.

“i do have one question though," A small smile spreads across her lips. Curiosity and intrigue forming. "Outside of revenge on the entire jedi, what is it you desire most?”

Although the question was meant to be light hearted, the air grows thicker as she awaits for his response. The previous sympathetic gaze they shared was soon washed away, replaced with something else. Qimir’s eyes scan the woman that sat in front of him taking in all of her beauty. The way the curls that were once free and wet, was now pulled back presenting the masterpiece of her face.

“The power of two,” Qimir brings his gaze back to her chocolatey eyes, locking them in an intense stare off that neither of them backed down from. A look that spoke a thousand words yet nothing at all. The hands that once held his were now overpowered as he gave her dainty palms a knowing squeeze.

Now it's time for Luna to take her bottom lip in her mouth, chewing it nervously. The thought of him referring to her in the sense of the 'power of two' sending her mind in an overdrive, but so did the thought of him referring to someone else completely. While rather fearless, Luna was no fighter much less a wielder of the force, it would foolish of her to think he was making such an implication.

“Q—I hav,” Luna starts but is interrupted with Qimir's full plush lips against her's, the had that were once holding onto hers found its way to the sides of her head, keeping her hostage. Confirming that he was indeed referring to her.

The girl only takes a second to recover from the surprise of his lips before joining his feverish kisses, allowing herself to let her hands wander over his cream robe. Qimir's lips sizzled with desire and he sucked on her juicy ones, all restraint he had leaving his massive body.

Qimir was extremely skilled at keeping his cool, that was what most fear about him. The fact that it was nearly impossible to detect what he was truly feeling, unable to predict his actions. However, when it came to Luna. Her loving eyes boring into his soul, reassuring him and showing such loyalty only after these short two days, it made him lose it cool, to put it lightly.

With lips moving in unison and fitting together like cogs in a clock, Qimir crawls towards her, his lengthy body hovering over her tiny frame. Luna peers at him through her thick eyelashes, admiring the way his biceps bulged against the linen long sleeve cloth, allowing her fingertips to follow her gaze up his arm up to drape hers around his neck.

The oversized robe that enveloped Luna parted slightly at the neck, exposing her impressive décolletage. The threatening unveiling drives Qimir to insanity as he attempts to hold himself from ripping the thin linen from her body himself. But Instead he opts for soft kisses that trail down tantalizingly slow, tasting the sweet honey of her skin.

Luna arches off the bed, her back forming a deep curve that’s practically begging for qimir to take advantage of. Her chest fully pushed out as a result causing the robe to open up even more. Qimir groans at her reaction. pleased

all of this over some kisses. she has no idea.

Qimir loops his arms through the gap between the sheets and her back, allowing his arms to wrap around the girl’s waist. His pink lips reach the hilt of her covered breast before using his teeth to tug at the cloth that barely covered her hard nipples.

Luna gasps at the cool feeling of air that caressed her nerve as she stared down at the man who had hunger written all over him. He was a starved lion. and she was a gazelle.

His eyes meet her’s, stalling at her newly exposed skin 1) to check if she was okay with this 2) to see the pure bliss on her face when he latches his lips around her stiff brown nipple. Qimir starts with gentle licks which later progresses into sucking and nibbling while he frees a hand to pinch the other.

Luna’s eyes roll back, her hands dragging its way to his hanging hair, gripping softly. Moans escape her lips, her back arching even more into his mouth which Qimir takes note of.

she wants more

Q detaches from her swollen breast to kiss down even further, using the force to untie the robe and open it up completely. Luna’s full body now on display.

Goosebumps litter her golden brown skin that burned under Qimir’s gaze. Which were filled with nothing but admiration. If she looked closely she could see the hunger subsiding for a second being replaced with awe as he observed her.

There was a goddess lied underneath him. Trusting him to please her. To serve her. And serve he shall.

Qimir swallows the sudden lump of shyness that formed at his throat due to the sight before him. The cocky confidence rushing back.

The burly arms release her from his unwavering hug around her waist allowing him to use his wide hands to wrap around her calfs, lifting them. Her legs now nearly reached her head, her womanhood fully exposed. At mercy to whatever he had in store.

Luna’s chest starts to pound in excitement, a toothy smile spreading across her beautiful face. Qimir looks down between the girl’s legs, catching her wide smile that caused him to grin with confusion. His thick eyebrows knit together at Luna’s untimely humor.

“What’s going on little one?,” He gives her a playful smirk as the hands wrapped around her calfs drag down the length of her legs, running over the developing goosebumps that littered her strong quads before stopping right at her inner thighs.

Luna's breath hitches at the back of her throat from the growing anticipation at feeling his warm hands touch her even warmer delicates, “I just— I’m excited.”

“Excited hm?," His lips latch on to her dangling legs, starting at her previously swollen ankle to which he littered clement kisses against before trailing down, his tongue slipping out to take the same path his hands took. The pink buds tasting the sweetness of her skin, only what Qimir could image to be just a snippet of what she really tasted like. The man stops only a couple inches away from her exposed core, the smell her dripping arousal filling up his senses. If he wasn't enjoying this teasing, she would've already been on her third orgasm. but the way her heart thumped in her chest, her mind already nothing but tv static and how she arched her back after every touch was something worth savoring.

Qimir inhales deeply, filling his lungs with her pheromone that sends him into a high to which he blows out with a dramatic sigh. The air that leaves his lips blowing directly onto Luna's throbbing clit.

Her body contracts, eyes shooting down to his with a pleading gaze. Begging to give her what she wants. Begging for his lips on hers. Qimir catches the sent glare, reveling in the power it gave him but only for second as his desire to please this gorgeous woman overthrew his need for power.

Luna throws her head back with aggression, her back lifting off the bed as if she was being possessed as she felt the way his tongue swirled and lapped at her bud. The hand gripping onto her left thigh moved to her core as he gently inserts two fingers in. The moan that escapes her mouth drives him crazy as he pumps his thick calloused fingers all while still obliterating her lit with his talented tongue.

Luna's hands find their way to his hair, pulling on the long hair that sat at the top of his head, begging for more.

It was nice feeling the way his lips sucked on swollen clit and how his fingers hooked inside of her. Hell, it was one of the best feelings she's ever experienced in her life. But somehow she craved more. She craved closeness. She craved him inside of her. She craved the feeling of them coming together as one.

"Q- Qimir, I nee-- I need you," She pants with closed eyes. the grip on his hair tightening attempting to lift him from his dinner. Qimir raises his head revealing his absolutely drenched chin and a slightly annoyed face. Luna giggles at his bewildered state before dragging him up by his wet chin to meet her eye level, "I need you Qimir."

Her chestnut brown eyes stare pleadingly through his oak ones, hoping that he would just use that awesome force power of his to read her thoughts. To save her from the humiliation that was starting to bubble up inside of her.

Lucky for her, Qimir didn't have to use it anyway, he knew what she wanted from her words alone. The playfully annoyed expression is replaced with a soft look as he takes in the current situation. He stares down at her, a swirl of emotions brewing in his chest. Lust, excitement, warmth, comfort…fear.

Qimir shakes the last thought out of his mind, narrowing his focus back on the beauty who was currently begging underneath him.

The distance is closed with a tender kiss to Luna’s full lips before pulling away just slightly.

“Are you sure?,” He asks just centimeters away, eyes locked in a unwavering gaze, both searching for signs of uncertainty. None arises and Luna nods, committing to her statement as the ache in her core grew exponentially.

Qimir mouths an ‘okay’ before sitting back on his knees to give him space to fully remove his robe. Unveiling his godly body that makes the woman shift up to get a better view.

A part of her felt like she needed to be pinched. That there was no way that she was experiencing the privilege of laying underneath him. His detailed abs and large biceps on display for her. His desire rock hard just for her.

Luna stretches out to run her delicate fingers down the length of his torso, feeling each ripple that decorated his abdomen in disbelief. He was real. Truly real. Too real.

A pleased smirk formed across Qimir’s pink, swollen lips, savoring the feeling of her fingers trailing down his body, nearing the lengthy member that throbbed for her. Qimir throws his robe off to the side and takes back his previous position hovering on top of Luna, as she continues her venture.

Without warning, Luna wraps her hand around his warm cock, taking in the size as her hand could barely fully wrap around him. Her jaw goes slack, mouth gapped open in surprise and Qimir’s smirk only grew wider.

He was going to enjoy tonight.

Qimir removes Luna’s grasp off of his member to instead pin it above her head by intertwining their fingers together. The head of his cock grazing her clit as he did so. She was ready for him.

and so was he.

Qimir takes his free hand, aligning his length with her begging entrance. He pushes in gently with a sharp inhale that is shared with Luna who tightens the grip on his hand. The thickness of his cock and the lack of experience on her end making it rather difficult to go fully in.

The burly man pulls out and pushes back in with the same technique as before, but this time Luna breathes out, fully relaxing into him. He slips in deeper than before, a strangled moan leaving Luna’s lips with an arch in her back.

Although he wasn’t fully in yet, it felt like she was full to the brim with him. The way his veiny length stretched her out further than anything else had ever before sent her to spiral. Her once strong eye contact, faltered with fluttering eyes that threatened to roll to the back of her head.

“You’re doing so good little one,” Qimir’s hips came to a stop, giving Luna some time to adjust to his impressive size. In the meantime, Qimir brings his free hand to her face, gently caressing the apple of her cheek with his thumb longingly. His eyes never leaving her just in case she shows any sign of discomfort before she mentions it.

While admiring her face, he is brought back to moments ago to when she comforted him. Validated his feelings. Understood him.

Heat starts to swell at his chest at the memory. A swarm of butterflies following right behind that choose to settle at his tummy. An emotion he longed to feel as a padawan in the jedi. An emotion he still denied himself of seeking until all of his business was taken care of.

Luna came back to her senses, catching Qimir’s lightly glossy eyes staring down at her so softly. Her breath hitching at the sight of him before giving a quick squeeze of his hands, bringing him back to reality.

“I’m ready,” She whispered between them with a soft smile. Qimir nods, pulling out and pushing back in repeatedly in a languid manner. Making sure he didn’t push too much of himself inside. At least for tonight.

His slow strokes drove Luna insane as they allowed for her to feeling almost every inch of him. Every throbbing vein raking the walls of her vagina.

Qimir dips his head in the space between her shoulder and head, his lips locking in on her neck. Kissing, nibbling and licking on her carotid artery.

He could kill her right now, the idea did cross her mind. He was a hurt, damaged man with nothing to lose, what would be stopping him from killing me? but that thought also drove her insane. That such a powerful, majestic man could end her like that, however chose to heal her. she felt like putty in his hands, at mercy to his touch. It made her wonder if it was because she was just an exception or he’s really just a good person. She hoped both were true.

Qimir’s thrust starts to pick up, his hand leaves her cheeks lowering to the round of her hip, his digits slightly digging into her skin. Luna wince at the increasing speed but soon adjusts with loud moans following suit.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” Qimir gruff voice groans in her ear through his kisses. The compliment ignites a fire pit inside her stomach, A fire pit that eventually evolves into a lit stick of dynamite. Her walls grip onto him impossibly tighter, pulling a gruttual moan from him.

They were like animals. In their most primitive human state as they filled the air with strangled moans and heavy breathing. Bodies colliding like the moon and the stars. Moving in unison. Hearts beating in unison while their hands grip and claw at each other. Luna’s untangle their way out of Qimir’s possessive hold and make their way to his muscular back, her nails digging into his flesh, holding on for dear life.

Qimir gives one last lick to her neck before lifting his head to level with hers that struggled to stay still. Constantly being thrown back with every powerful thrust. His now lonely hand finds its way to her jaw, holding her still with a tender yet stern grip. He held her captive, forcing her eyes to stay on his.

The desperation on her face sent qimir into orbit. His confidence through the roof at seeing her fluttering eyes, gaped lips and flushed face. He found her absolutely breathtaking.

Qimir’s lips take hers by surprise and they kiss. Slow and sloppy. Lips crashing together, tongues exploring the inside of each others mouths. lips occasionally being bitten, but soothed by a loving kiss.

Luna’s mind was now obsolete. Head empty. no thoughts running. All she could possibly think about was Qimir and his touch. He was all she could consume.

The ignited dynamite reached its end point. At brink of explosion and with every thrust, his torso rubbed the nub of her flower. It was impossible to hold on. No matter how badly she wanted to stay in this moment forever. Her body begged for release, thrashing underneath him chasing her high. Qimir takes notice, breaking the kiss to egg his girl on.

“Come little one. Come for me love,” And with that she did. Her barely open eyes rolled to the back of her skull as her body convulsed violently as a strong orgasm rushed through her. Her nails dragging down the length of his back, deep enough to draw blood, well if Qimir wasn’t…Qimir.

The mix of the stinging of his back and the relentless pressure wrapped around his cock, only sent Qimir to meet his own release. With haste, he pulls out, coating her stomach with his seed. Luna too busy coming down from her own high to even notice.

The man reaches out to grab the nearest thing, which so happens to be his robe, to wipe his cum off of her. While delicately cleaning the girl, who now seemed so relaxed that she sunk deeper into the bed, a vision of his seed dumping inside of her popped into his head. Her smooth stomach eventually rounding as she carried their creation. Their love child.

Never in his life, or as long as he had been sexually active, had the thought of impregnating a partner made him feel such a way. Typically the idea would come from the mouth of the desperate woman he chose from the bar, who extremely overestimated the extent of their relationship. Not him.

Aside from the fact that he never found anyone worthy of carrying his seed, having a family scared him. He knew he wasn’t fit for fatherhood considering the lack of representation and love he has received.

Qimir removes himself from his thoughts, knowing that if he kept going it would end with him spiraling. So instead he keeps his focus on her, thinking how glad he is that she cannot read his mind or else she’d probably be off running too.

The man throws the robe back on the ground and rolls off the girl onto the empty space in the bed beside her, lying in his back. He opens his right arm out, inviting Luna to snuggle up next to him. An invitation she takes with great pleasure as she places her ear to his chest, wrapping her bare leg around his.

The laid there in silence, skin to skin, breaths per second decreasing reaching ultimate relaxation. Both of their eyes growing heavy, and their hearts swelling with pure warmth. Qimir rests his chin on her slicked back hair, inhaling the coconut smell that emitted from her.

Luna felt like she was neck deep in quicksand, officially unable to claw her way out. Every second, starting from the moment she was brought back to this cave unconscious, she was sinking further and further. There was just something about this man. Even though he is practically a stranger, sooo much stuff still left to learn about him, she felt compelled to him. A strong desire to know him, all of him, and to accept whatever baggage came with it.

Her moms voice rang through her head, wise words breaking through her own consciousness. The honey voice filled her mind with a quote that never really made sense, until this moment.

They were watching a movie in the living room, as they did every friday night if they were working a night shift that day. A movie about a princess and a knight having a terrible first impression, resulting in mutual disdain for each other to then being engaged and in love in the span of a day.

Young Luna scrutinized the legitimacy of the plot. Screaming that falling in love in a day was impossible. Someone would have to be crazy to do that.

Until her mom dismantled her entire argument with one sentence. The sentence that played through her head now.

“Love does not deal with time, but with the connection shared between the two,”

Luna closes her eyes, taking in a deep meditating breath to calm the racing of her heart. She can’t push her feelings down, her mom wouldn’t want that. Plus the fact that Luna always leaned towards being outspoken even in situations that didn’t really call for it.

With a huge exhale, Luna breaks the comfortable silence.

“Q…I think i— i think i love you,” Luna declares with a shivering voice, the first time she has outwardly expressed her nervousness around him, as she waited for his response.

Qimir’s breathing stops, every bone in his body turning into titanium too heavy to move. Her genuine words falling to a void of silence as the only thing Qimir could register was the pounding of his heart. Sweat pricks at his forehead, unsure of how to respond. Literally.

His mouth parts, preparing to return the sentiment, to confess all of the emotions that he tried to bury. But the hand of fear restricted him from doing so. Its grip tightening around his neck in a death hold.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. i just— i just thought you should know,” Luna reassures, a hint of disappointment coating her tongue.

She wasn’t necessarily expecting him to say it back. Of course she hoped for that. Hearing that the feeling was mutual and that he didn’t view her as some delusional little girl would’ve sent her to the moon. However, she didn’t confess for the purpose of it being thrown back at her. She wanted to tell him the truth, she wanted to live her truth because life is far too short to live a lie. To not take chances.

Qimir’s heart clenches at the sound of her tiny voice. Wishing there wasn’t some unhealthy trauma preventing him from chasing what he really desired. Wishing he wasn’t the way he was. A piece of trash. A failed Jedi. A murderer.

With heavy eyes, Luna shoves the sting of rejection towards the back of her head as she flips her body, her back now facing Qimir. Figuring that he would want space after her pathetic confession, ignoring how her body turned cold once she left his chest. How she longed to feel his bare skin against hers. she just wanted to respect him.

Little did she know that this was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. Luckily, his fear didn't restrain his ability move anything else of his body as he flips on his side, his front facing her back. His bulky arms reaching from behind her to pull her body into his, spooning her.

A small smile spreads across Luna's lips as she slowly drifts off to sleep.

episode v

[tiny-lady-journal]

It's been 24 hours without her.

I threw the blanket she had nearly died on in the washing machine as soon as I got home. I didn't want to erase the memory of her loving that blanket, but I couldn't stand to see the dried vomit that had crusted on it. I still haven't moved it to the dryer.

My mom swiftly removed her items when I asked. I knew having to look at them, unused with a layer of dust, would break me into millions of pieces over time.

I slept with my door completely closed for the first time in 3 years.

I couldn't look at the foot of my bed when I woke up in the morning because I knew she wouldn't be there.

I struggled to answer my boyfriend's text this morning when he asked me how I was holding up; I sat and stared at a wall for what felt like too long, trying to figure out how to tell him that my world has flipped on its head and nothing feels right anymore. I settled on, "I cried and everything feels weird".

I had to shut the curtain to my closet, because her bed was on top of my dresser, and I couldn't bear to see that spot devoid of both small cat and small bed.

I cried over that, hard. I screamed that I had killed my baby, that I had made a mistake, that I wish I could have saved her, and that I wish she had never gotten sick.

I then had to tell myself, over and over, that I did the right thing, that I did all I could within my power to help her, and that taking away her pain was my way of helping her when she needed me most.

I shoved the churu and the water dropper in a box in my room, remnants of our last few heartbreaking days together. That, least of all, could I look at.

I deleted the Stardew Valley file I had made prior to her getting sick. I played it when she was getting worse. I didn't want it to exist anymore, not with the memory of it tainted with looking over at her every 5 minutes to see if she was still breathing.

I looked at pet urns, then had to take a break because it felt like my little lady was reduced to tacky cartoon cats and cheap looking ceramic pots, and it made me cry all over again. I would give her a sapphire-encrusted gilded urn if I could. I would have given her the stars if she asked.

I cried when I got water from the fridge because there was no tiny lady getting under my feet, screaming at me and begging for nice cold water because she didn't care for the temperature of her water fountain.

I keep shifting in my seat, waiting for her to crawl up my chair, ignore my attempts at trying to interact with her, and climb me and the chair like a jungle gym so she could get to the windowsill to watch the birds or meow at passing cars.

I keep hearing the little tinkle of her bell, just within earshot. Either I'm hallucinating, or she's letting me know she's near.

A bird tapped its beak on my window while I was laying in a puddle of my own tears. I looked up a spiritual meaning behind it, and cried even harder at my search results.

What I did manage to do today though, despite it all:

I watched Twilight. I did psychology notes. I ate pizza. I brushed my hair. I brushed my teeth. I washed my face. I took a bath. I played Stardew Valley. I put Contrapoints on in the background for something besides my own thoughts to listen to. I drew a little, and got frustrated with it. I flipped off my Canvas notifications (my cat just died, fuck off, I don't have the emotional capacity to think about the anthropological origins of religion right now). I answered texts. I existed. I survived day one.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Whirling in Rags, 12 PM

2. The boots are *really* disgusting. Pour some dish soap *and* the bottle of white vinegar into the pot.

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - The delicious smells of cheap soap and vinegar waft up from the pot.

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] - Alright now, chef. Light the stove up and boil them.

Add water -- and the boots -- to the pot. Bring it all to a *nice* boil.

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - The strong smell of vinegar forces you to step away from the pot. The water slowly comes to a boil.

Wait...

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - Strips of polymer fabric and human tissue separate from the lining of the boots. They float to the bubbling surface.

Beautiful.

Wait some more...

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - A two course dinner of rotting flesh and hardened ceramic.

Wait some more...

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - The boots look cleaner and cleaner. Those bits of human flesh are beginning to look *cooked*. You can smell it too.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] - Just like beef stew.

A little more...

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - That's it, chef! The boots are as clean as they're going to get. Steam dense with the smell of strange meat disappears into the vent above the stove.

Dump the sock and flesh stew -- and examine your new boots!

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - A pair of real beauties! The boots are shiny, hot and reek of vinegar. Just perfect.

Item Gained: Fairweather T-500 Greaves

Task complete: Getting the Hanged Man's boots

+30 XP

Master chef out. [Leave.]

FAIRWEATHER T-500 GREAVES

+2 Authority: Put your foot down -1 Composure: Shoes too big too fill

These greaves are light as feathers - and just a tad too big for you, but don't let that bother you. With these on, you look like some kind of future-warrior! *And they'll keep you safe if you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot. So worth it.

Now that that's taken care of, there's almost nothing left to do to today. I made an attempt to wake up Kim so he could take the corpse off for processing, but his door is locked.

BATHTUB - This is not the cleanest bathtub in the world, but it's cleaner than you are right now.

We still need to wash that corpse smell off of us.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Medium: Success] - Ah, that soap scum smell. It smells like life. At least compared to you.

Run yourself a bath.

I want to live forever with the corpse smell. Memento mori and stuff. [Leave.]

BATHTUB - The bathtub slowly fills with water. The water beckons.

Undress, close your eyes, and submerge.

BATHTUB - The water is only lukewarm, but still comforting, like amniotic fluid. A few beer cans are bobbing up and down along your flanks like sad duckies.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - You feel nice and lonely. And so, so tired.

Take the beer cans out.

Leave the beer cans in.

BATHTUB - The cans continue to bob, as do your thoughts, aimlessly splashing up against the sides of the tub.

Linger in the tub a little.

Imagine something.

Get out. (Conclude.)

BATHTUB - Your fingers grow pale and are covered with tiny whorls as the water cools.

+1 Health

2. Imagine something.

BATHTUB - You see the corpse. You can still smell the cadaver on you. It's going to take more than one bath to get rid of that stench.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Easy: Success] - Then -- houses along a narrow street. A video rental. Darkness on the planet's curvature.

3. Get out. (Conclude.)

BATHTUB - The water line recedes as you stand. You are cold now. Your clothes stick to your still moist skin.

Task complete: Wash off the death smell

+30 XP

BED - The bed is still cold from the broken window, and not too inviting. But it's yours. You've earned it.

Go to sleep.

No time to rest yet. [Leave.]

BED - The bed is still cold from the wind blowing in from the broken window. The mattress creaks as you close your eyes and try your hardest to fall asleep...

...

🎵 Tiger King

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Here we are again, my broken bird. The waves are coming... carrying you away... but you can't go. No -- you have to stay. Always half-aware of yourself.

You're not *cooperating* brother-man.

Why?

LIMBIC SYSTEM - It's your disgusting *body*. Even through your sleep, you feel a vague discomfort suffusing it. Your belly and your sides are unpleasantly tender. You wish you could curl up into a foetal ball of safety, but you cannot -- because of the PAIN.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Every cell in your body is moaning in agony, asking, "What did we ever do to you?"

I'm sorry, cells! It's all me! It's my fault!

It's all the system's fault. The system failed me.

This body's worthless anyway... no one does anything nice to it.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Yes, your body is a system, and and it's failing you because you're failing it.

[zhooniyaa-waagosh]

I've been going outside every single day, except when I'm too sick to actually get out of bed, to water my plants and refill the bird baths and wash and refill the feeders and quickly weed the garden.

I drag around the hose to water the front garden and pick up the heavy ceramic bath basin to wash it and admire the bees in my flowers and lug out the stepladder to get to the bird feeder hanging from the maple tree even though I am absolutely petrified of heights. I get to see chipmunks and squirrels and toads and rabbits and moths and butterflies and spiders and wasps and little native bees and too many kinds of birds to list here. I'm getting sunshine and vitamin D and it's forcing me to get up earlier.

And it's been good for me mentally but. It sorta sucks to realize that it hasn't been great physically. My pain isn't any better, I'm not any more energetic, I still struggle to walk comfortably, my head pain is just as bad (maybe even worse with the light exposure), and my hands and knees are even worse in the mornings.

I'm not surprised by this, because I've tried the whole physical exercise thing as relief for chronic conditions and it isn't terrible but it's never helped the way people said it's supposed to, even when I'm consistently every day for months when I really just want to lie down and cry. I just. . . wish it was different. I hate being the exception to these kinds of things, especially because when I try to explain it even to other disabled people, they always think that I'm just not trying hard enough.

I am. I really am. I'm just so tired.

[tohakumaru]

Getting there, I hope to finish it this week, but I won’t push it because I’m tired. Garden’s done up, a pair of ring neck doves come by every day to eat seeds. Aggressive robins and shy wrens. Finger crossed a magpie or crow would visit, but with Liam, Atreus and Buttons all camping out the feeder daily, I don’t think that will be the case.

[screechesincoherently]

Bookworm

Jake Kizka x Reader

Request: Saw you were asking for requests, could you maybe do something where the reader is a big bookworm and loves reading sad angsty books. And either Jake or Josh come home one day to see the reader just sobbing cause of the book and it's all super fluffy and domestic

Uh- yes. Yes I can

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 1,535

Waking up alone on Saturdays was always a bittersweet thing for you. As soon as your eyes were open, you’d scan the bed to see if he was there. Whether he was in your presence or not you’d get up to finish household chores so you two could spend as much time together as you could.

This day wasn’t any different.

You threw the comforter off of your body, debating for a minute whether you should really sacrifice your warmth for cleanliness. Glancing out of the bedroom window, your eyes were met with the slow fall of thick snowflakes. You loved winter, but you hated the feeling of not being able to do as much as you could during the warmer months.

Sliding your slippers on from the edge of your bed, you made a mental note of all of the things you needed to do. Dishes, go through the fridge, shampoo carpets, scrub the shower, and the week’s worth of two people’s laundry sitting against the wall of your bedroom.

Once your house was clean and everything was put into place, you decided that it would be best to at least shovel a pathway from your garage to your doorway. As you did so, you noticed slight, and almost jerky movement out of the corner of your eye, turning to find a little rabbit hopping along the perimeter of your yard.

As you watched the animal hop through the inches of thick snowfall, you heard birds chirping from the tree above you.

You’re not sure how long you stood there for, in the middle of your driveway, but in your mind, it didn’t really matter. The main tasks of the day were complete, what would be a few moments stolen by nature and all of its beauty?

You inhaled the crisp, stinging air of winter, matched with the refreshing gentle prickling of the freezing wind. Everything was gorgeous and untouched, just like how it was all meant to be- at least for now. Later there would be car tracks and other forms of disruption in the smooth blanket of snow, but for now, it was natural and pure.

You could have stood outside for hours, and god only knows, you might have. You have a tendency to have your phone on you in cases of emergencies, but you refrain from using it otherwise on the weekends. You simply want to be your wholly, unadulterated self whenever you can, so you only get sucked back into reality when your stomach let you know that more than enough time had passed since breakfast.

You stepped into your house, the heat from your radiator beating at your skin in a stark contrast to the chilly sensations you experienced outside.

You made your way through the house to your bedroom, grabbing your favorite loungewear and heading towards the bathroom to prepare yourself for a bath. As you walked alongside your dresser, your eyes were caught by the glimmering gold edges of the book you had thrifted days prior.

After you started the water, you began to rid yourself of the damp and cold clothes that had been occupied by the snow and wind, and stepped into the steaming water.

You dipped your toes into the water in an experimental fashion, letting them absorb the heat until you were comfortable enough to lay the sole of your foot against the ceramic tub, and following that pattern until you were mostly submerged under the water.

Almost instantly, your body was overwhelmed with goosebumps and shivers from the drastic changes in temperatures your body had just experienced, but you leaned into them. Inhaling deeply as if to let the steam work its way into your soul, and exhaling, letting all of the stress and tension you had carried out with the used air, sinking further into the water.

You had brought the book into the bathroom with you just in case you got bored, but you weren’t going to force anything on yourself the rest of the night. You decided you would let fate do its thing and whatever happened would happen.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling washing over your body, opening to find yourself looking over at the book.

You were a sucker for the classic looking novels, with the gold page edges, and rustic-esque covers, whether they were worn by time to arrive at the stage, or they were printed to appeal to the senses.

You grabbed for the hand towel drying the appendages, not wanting to ruin the object of your attention. You read, and you read until the water started to become lukewarm, bringing small shivers across your body once again.

Setting the book down on the closed toilet seat, you stepped out of the tub, enclosing yourself in a towel and draining the water. After you pulled on your clothes, you trudged into the living room, book in tow and began the fireplace to help keep the room warm while you continued your book.

As you read, the pages seemed to consume your mind, and suddenly you were sucked into the content of the novel. It was the best feeling in the world for you to choose a book off of a shelf and be entranced and brought into its world, feeling every emotion the author had intended for its reader to perceive.

Once you had been fully immersed into the story line, you had lost track of all reality. The plot was full of angst and sadness, the perfect contrast from the stories you normally read. You hadn’t noticed the extent in which you fell into the fabricated world until you choked out a breathy sob, the tightness in your throat and the headache that was forming suggesting that you take a break from the book, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to set it down. You pushed through the beautifully formed sentences, each one affecting you so much more than the previous.

Even when you had felt the presence of your boyfriend coming home and placing his hands onto your shoulders and lightly massaging them sensing your tension that had built up in the last couple of hours. You stayed completely encapsulated in your book, only acknowledging him by placing your hand on his.

He knew that you wouldn’t want to be disrupted, so he left you be until he returned to the living room after his shower to find you up from the couch, now with your back against the wall. The tears were violently falling down your face at this point.

He couldn’t stand to see you this torn over a book any longer, so he took it upon himself to walk over to you, gently taking the book from your hands, and pulling you into his chest.

“Baby, I love you, I really do, but it’s just a book.”

“But it’s such a good one Jake.” You gasped into his shirt, trying to catch your breath.

“I know, honey. Breathe please, okay?”

You took deep breaths matching the strokes he was placing on your back.

Inhaling when his hand moved up between your shoulder blades, and exhaling when he lowered it.

After a few minutes when Jake had felt your heart rate steady out, he removed his chin from on top of your head.

“Do you want to talk about it? Would it make it easier for you to return to it later?”

You shrugged, staring at where your tears had left a wet mark on his chest.

“Okay, you don’t have to. I think it would be a good idea if you took a break from the book for a while.”

You nodded in agreement, letting him guide you back to the couch, him against the arm, and you leaning against his free side.

“If this makes you feel any better, the house looks nice.” Jake complimented your previous day’s work with a cheeky grin.

“Thanks Jakey.” You replied, placing a soft kiss to his shoulder and being met with his hand rubbing up and down your arm in support.

“What do you want for dinner? I’ll order something for delivery. Whatever you want.”

You thought in contemplation for a moment, before quietly suggesting just a pizza for the two of you to split.

-

The doorbell rang signaling that your food had arrived, so Jake allowed you to sit up before he removed himself from his rightful spot between you and the arm rest.

“Your dinner has arrived, my emotional little bookworm.” Jake said making a grand gesture out of presenting the pizza to you.

“I hate you.” You told him with a laugh, letting him know that you weren’t serious, although he knew you would never mean it.

Nights like these, you were reminded of why you were okay with the Saturday mornings in which you woke up by yourself. Because as long as you both had patience and trust, this support and love would last a lifetime.

He was like the spine of the book, holding you together– allowing you to open and close yourself away from the world as you please, but not letting you ever forget that he was there hold you up.

[space-blue]

Sevika's PoV chapter is done! Polished and double betaed! It's huge (4.5k) and starts right after episode 3 and past the present point of the fic. Guess what? Among other things, she takes Ran, Vi and Powder to some public baths! That's right. Big brain author over here loves japanese style baths, and figures that given the crowded conditions and scarcity in fresh water, it would make sense for a LOT of Zaunites to not even have home baths/showers, and rely on public baths. I assume all the decent ones would be up top...

Since the chapter is more than a week away... Here, enjoy a snippet :

'You said you don't like the public baths, last time,' Powder notes, sidling up to her as she pays for their entrance fees. 'What's different now?'

'Silco isn't with us,' Sevika tells her with a devious smile. 'If you annoy me I'll fucking drown you.'

Powder laughs, that little unhinged cackle of hers, head tilted back, and punches Sevika's arm like she's a riot.

'I don't like the public baths because they're public,' Sevika tells her when she has calmed down. She hands her a cog for a locker. 'When you know the right people you can get into the private baths, on the upper levels.'

'Like the ones that chembarons have?'

'That's right. Just you and your friends... If Silco could be bothered, he'd buy us one.'

'There's a shower at the Drop though.'

'Dream big, kid.'

The four of them go to the indoor ladies bath. The rooms are small, lit with warm chemlights, the walls tiled in blue, green and white, mosaics of waves and Janna's blue birds in geometric patterns.

Sevika hounds the kids about proper shower etiquette before they all go hog one of the smaller baths, discouraging anyone else from joining with pointed looks, Ran clicking her metal fingers on the ceramic edge and looking a lot more threatening than she actually is.

Powder asks them to rate her impression of a dead body and starts floating face down.

'Too many bubbles,' Ran tells her.

'Alright, I can be a log—'

'What's the occasion?' Vi asks, coming to sit next to Sevika, her towel folded over her head.

Sevika closes her eyes and lets herself relax. It feels like heaven, her tension unknotting, her metal prosthetic weightless in the warm water.

'It'll help loosen your muscles,' she says.

'No way,' Ran snarks. 'I heard you in the lobby! I bet you're hoping if the girls bitch enough, Silco will finally get us a bath down in the Lanes too.'

Sevika gives her a chilly glare. 'Forget it. Can you imagine the amount of pipes he'd have to run down to get clean water to the Drop?'

'It's a pipe dream,' Powder declares smugly.

Sevika can't help her snort but she kicks the girl under the water. 'Don't jinx it, I want to believe. He could still buy us one up top. I'd take a fucking lift for the privilege.'

'What would Silco do with a bath anyway?' Vi asks.

'Who cares what Silco would do? It's what we would do!' Ran whines. 'Getting a steam after every workout? Fuck yes! Full on parties in there? Yes? Just relaxing like this, but for free? Ooh... Yeah I mean, it'd be a fucking treat.'

'Maybe Silco would even use it and relax for more than five minute,' Sevika adds. 'A woman can dream.'

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Try Again (Cordelia Goode x Reader)

Synopsis: You’re having trouble sleeping because of a certain witch.

Words: 1940

Warnings: none

**GIF not mine**

Dappled sunlight filtered through the window, the old sycamore tree swaying in the breeze. You stood at the kitchen counter, cup of tea clasped in your hands, shawl wrapped tight around your shoulders. The old house creaked above you, the sleepy silence setting in around you like an old worn blanket. You watched a raven hop on the green grass, it’s head tilting at something you couldn’t see.

“You’re up early.”

You turned your head slightly, not able to see the blonde witch in the doorway but acknowledging her presence. You let out a long breath, a mixture of contentment and excitement settling in your belly.

A soft hand grasped your shoulder and you turned, leaning back against the counter. Cordelia, pale skin, blonde hair, and beautiful brown eyes, was looking down at you, smile on her pretty pink lips. She cupped your cheek, a thumb running over the dark circle under your eye.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. She lent forwards, looking in your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You shivered, tilting your chin up to give her a better look, to better gauge your state.

“Nightmares?” she asked. You shook your head.

“Too many thoughts.”

Which was mostly true. Too many thoughts were clouding your brain, making sleep an impossible fantasy, much like the thoughts running through your head. Images of Cordelia hadn’t been leaving your mind all night. Images of her in the warm sunlight, of her with her hands buried in soil in the greenhouse, of her sitting at her desk with that welcoming smile on her face. You hadn’t been able to get rid of them. It was like a sweet kind of torture,

“Would you like the day off to catch up on your sleep?” she asked, her thumb still running over the dark circle.

“I’d rather keep busy,” you replied.

“I could use some help in the greenhouse,” she said, “that should keep you busy.”

She offered you a smile and despite the way your stomach clenched you smiled in return.

“Is there any more of this?” Her fingertips brushed against your knuckles and you looked down at the mug in your hands.

“In the teapot,” you said.

She turned away from you, her skirt swirling around her calves. With graceful actions you’d never quite managed to emulate she reached up to the cupboard above her head. She poured herself a cup of the tea, steam swirling up around her hands. You turned away from her, looking out the window again. The raven was still on the lawn, staring through the window at you.

“I see Edgar is here.” Cordelia’s arm brushed against yours as she stepped up to the window.

“Edgar?” You kept your eyes trained on the bird.

“He’s here every morning. I thought I should give him a name,” she said, “I know it’s cliched but it made me smile.”

“No I like it,” you said hurriedly. You glanced up at her to find her already smiling at you. She nudged you with her elbow.

“I’m going to go get started. You might want to get dressed.”

And just like that she was gone in a waft of perfume that curled around you. You took a shuddering breath in before steeling yourself. You poured the rest of your tea down the drain and left the cup in the sink.

When you entered the greenhouse half an hour later Cordelia had her back to you, her nose buried in a bud of a flower. You coughed. She turned, a smile already there to answer your questioning look. A dark swath of dirt was on her cheek, clinging to her peachy skin.

“Are any of the girls up yet?” she asked.

“I thought I heard Zoe stirring and Mallory was looking for a book when I passed by. I think Queenie might have it,” you replied with a small smile.

“Did you tell her that?” she asked, quirking an amused eyebrow at you.

“I suggested she ask the other girls,” you replied with a shrug.

She chuckled, turning back to her work. You came up beside her, watching her sure hands repot the flower in one of the painted ceramic planters gifted by one of the girls. You felt your face flush at the way her fingers curled around the roots of the flower, protecting it with her cupped hand.

“There are some vials over there,” she said, vaguely gesturing to one of the side benches, “can you bring all of them over here?”

It took a couple of trips but you managed to bring the thirty or so vials to the bench she was working at. Her fingers were plucking leaves from one of the plants, crushing them between thumb and forefinger to release the scent into the air. She took your hand as it released the final vials, her thumb running over the skin of the back of your hand.

“Thank you for the help,” she said.

“Anything for you.”

Her answering smile was as bright as the sun, filling you with just as much warmth.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to earn so much loyalty,” she said.

“You’re the Supreme,” you replied, your cheeks growing warm under her scrutiny.

“Plenty if people wouldn’t do anything for their Supreme,” she said, “many wouldn’t do anything for my mother.”

“You’re not your mother,” you replied.

“I should hope not.” She laughed, tipping her head back. You gave her a hesitant smile. She pressed your palm to her cheek. Your thumb, without thought, brushed the dirt from her skin. Her eyes sparkled and a hint of pink tinged the skin under your hand.

“What thoughts were keeping you up?” she asked.

“They’re not important.” You shook your head, your hand slipping from her face. Her fingers twitched but she let you take a step back.

“I’d like to help. If you’d let me,” she said.

Her face was a picture of earnestness. Your eyes skittered down, not wanting her to see in your eyes the exact thoughts that were that kept you up at night. The way that her room being close enough to yours that you could hear her in the evenings made you burn from the inside out. The way that with a brush of her fingers she could turn you breathless. The way you were panting for praise from her lips.

The way you dreamt about kissing those lips.

“What did you need help with?” you asked instead of giving her a proper response.

You looked down, playing with a fallen petal, velvet against your skin. You squeezed it, feeling the give against your fingers, the way your skin grew damp.

You didn’t hear Cordelia walk to your side of the bench but when her fingers circled your wrist you took a sharp inhalation of breath. The petal fell from your fingers, fluttering to the floor. You looked up into her brown eyes, feeling your mouth fall open. You bit down on your lower lip. Her eyes darkened.

“I want to help,” she murmured.

You grasped her face, pulling her to you. Your lips crashed into hers, harsh and demanding. She froze and you pushed her away before fleeing from the greenhouse.

You stayed locked in your room for the rest of the day, watching as the sun rose then fell, the light fading around you sitting on the bed, staring out the window. You could hear the girls through the walls, laughing, talking, shouting. But none were the one woman who was stuck in your brain.

You fell back, staring up at the canopy above your bed. Running through your head were a series of beratements, telling you everything you had done wrong since arriving at the Academy. You already had half a plan to leave this place to keep your shame buried deep inside.

You didn’t hear the knock on your door, your thoughts too loud to be able to hear anything but your heart beating hard in your ears. You missed the door creaking open and soft footfalls making their way towards you.

A soft hand brushed the hair back from your face and your eyes snapped open. You hurried to sit up, your hands scrabbling on the comforter. You pushed yourself back from the woman standing before your bed. She sat, as elegant as always, blonde hair grey in the moonlight.

“Cordelia,” you breathed, wiping a tear from your face, “what are you doing here?”

“I think we have some talking to do,” she said, a sad smile on her face.

“We can just forget about it. It’s fine. In fact I’d prefer if we did. We never have to talk about this ever,” you said, a desperation clinging to you tight. If everyone involved could just forget about it then it would be like nothing had happened.

“I would like to talk about it,” she said, putting a stop to all the arguments on your tongue.

You averted your eyes from her, closing your mouth, giving her the option to continue.

“You caught me by surprise earlier,” she said, “I wish you hadn’t.”

It was like you’d been doused in a bath of cold water, your body going numb. You didn’t need her telling you she didn’t feel the same way. It was obvious enough to you. It would have been better if she had allowed you to ignore it. You jerked back from her.

“If I’d been more prepared I could have kissed you back the way I wanted to,” she said.

You dragged your eyes up to her. She was looking at you with an intensity you were unused to. Your breath shuddered in your lungs, stopping as one of her hands reached out to you. She cupped your cheek but you remained frozen, back pressed against the headboard.

“Can I try again?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you want. I don’t understand.” You shook your head, your eyes slipping away from her again.

“I have feelings for you. More than that, I’ve fallen in love with you. I hoped you felt the same way but I wasn’t willing to say anything until you did. I didn’t want my position, my power, to influence you,” she said.

“So you let me think you had no feelings for me?” you asked.

“I tried to show you in my own way,” she said, “but I hoped you’d come talk to me.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you replied.

She gave a short dry chuckle. Looking up, you saw there was no humour in her. Her thumb ran over the apple of your cheek.

“It looks that in trying to look after each other all we’ve managed to do is hurt each other,” she said.

“You can try again.”

A smile broke out on her face. She drew closer, hovering a hair 's breadth away from your lips, her breath ghosting over your skin. You shivered, closing your eyes.

Her lips were soft against yours, but sure. You surged forward, wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing yourself to her, any semblance of self control gone. She kissed you deeper, hungrier, consuming you. Her hand pressed to the small of your back, keeping you close to her.

She pulled back, pressing her forehead to yours. Her eyes were closed and her breathing heavy but her lips were smiling.

“How about you try again?” you murmured.

“Was it not good enough for you?” she asked, her eyes blinking open.

“Much too short,” you replied.

A smile broke over her face before you kissed her again.

[the-puffinry]

hot tip (very literally); don't forget to regularly mist your bird with cool (not ice cold) water if you're also experiencing a heatwave without AC today. Or soak them regularly with cool water if they tolerate it and aren't stressed by it yet unlikely to take the initiative to bathe themselves (not on their faces! You don't want to get water into your bird's lungs by accident. I let Vaiya sit in my cupped hands beneath a running tab every hour or so, but the water only hits her body. If she wants it on her face she'll take care of that herself).

And very basic, but please make sure they're not left out in the sun. They can't sweat, and while your parrot's species might be from a tropical climate an individual raised in a temperate one will likely be adapted to it to some degree, and not to extreme heat. Even tropical birds in their native habitat tend to prefer the shade, anyway.

They can lose some heat through their feet. Consider occasionally letting them play/forage on a ceramic tile cooled in the fridge. This works to cool birds scared of playing in water. If you use two ceramic tiles you can alternate and put the one that's been played on and has warmed up back into the fridge and use the one that's been cooling in the meantime again. You can mist the tiles with cool water, also.

And...even if your bird doesn't like bathing try if they will still let you gently putting some cool water on their legs and feet with your fingers.

- your bird might enjoy a cool slice of watermelon from the fridge! Generally putting their food and treats in the fridge is a good idea, and even a better one now. I give my bird small bits of cool fruit throughout the day.

- give them a bowl of icecubes to lick and explore! They might just enjoy playing with them, or actually try to eat them.

- try freezing a bit of broccoli. They might enjoy nibbling on it as it defrosts.

and of course regularly refresh their drinking and bathing water as well; the warmer the weather, the easier it is for it to spoil when things get into it. Try to change 4 times a day at least, if your schedule allows for it.

take care everyone. 💙🐦💞

[freelancearsonist]

Scavenger Hunt

Richard Alonso-Muñoz x fem!Reader

Rated R for an orgasm at the very beginning and then pure fluff the rest of the way

2,468 words

A/N: This is a not-so-surprise birthday gift for the love of my life @pascal-isaac​ 🥺 thank you for helping me with all the small details for this, ilysm and I really hope you enjoy 🥺💛 (I know this moodboard looks hella confusing but I promise it’ll make sense when you read the fic 😂)

You awaken with a start... and a finish.

It’s a beautiful morning—the sun is shining and you can hear birds chirping outside the window, but you can’t register any of that immediately because you can feel a familiar thick mustache scraping lightly against your clit and everything in your body is clenching as your orgasm tears through you, accompanied by a loud whine of your undoer’s name.

Richard grins up at you triumphantly as his tongue gently works you through your high—he’s even more in tune with your body than you are, and he pulls away just before his ministrations become too much for your sensitive cunt to handle.

“Good morning,” he hums as he plants gentle kisses along your thighs.

“It definitely is,” you pant, letting out a breathless chuckle before reaching for him and dragging him up for a kiss. He moans into your mouth—he does every time you kiss him, and it’s one of your favorite sounds.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbles against your lips. He tastes of you—it makes you feel as if you’ve claimed his mouth. You love it.

“Thank you,” you smile softly as you pull him in for another kiss.

“I’m sorry I can’t spend the day with you,” he smiles sadly. “I tried to take it off, but since there’s no one else in communications at the moment—“

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, gently silencing him with a kiss. “You know I don’t like to make a big deal out of my birthday, anyway.”

He smiles at that—you’ve been telling him for weeks not to bother with gifts or anything out of the ordinary. All you want is a normal day.

“Okay.” He dips to kiss you one more time before standing up—already dressed and ready for work in his uniform. He looks so good in it; you always want to tear it off of him. “I love you. I’ll be home for dinner. We can order in if you want?”

“Sounds good,” you affirm with a soft hum. “I love you, babe.”

“I know you didn’t want gifts, but... I couldn’t do nothing,” he chuckles softly before turning your attention to the nightstand next to you. He made your favorite breakfast and your favorite tea, arranged in a surprisingly aesthetic fashion on a small tray.

“Baby—“

“Don’t be upset, it’s already done,” he chuckles softly. “I know you don’t normally eat breakfast, but it’s the most important meal of the day. It’s the bare minimum I could do.”

That’s pretty fair, and you love him all the more for respecting your wishes of not doing anything over-the-top expensive.

“Have a good day, mi amor,” he whispers and dips to kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you tonight. Te amo.”

“Te quiero mucho,” you reply, tugging him in for one more proper kiss before he has to leave.

You take your breakfast into the bathroom and draw a bath—dropping in one of your favorite vanilla-scented bath bombs because it’s a good day to treat yourself. You settle your breakfast onto the bath tray—another gift from Richard, from a Christmas a few years back—and soak pleasantly in the water for as long as you can until you’ve finished eating.

You notice something strange in your mug once you’ve gone through your tea—writing on the bottom of the ceramic surface.

Check under the bed :)

For a moment you’re a little upset, worried that he got you a gift after all. It’s not that you don’t like getting gifts—quite the opposite actually—but birthday gifts aren’t your forte. You’ve never really liked celebrating the fact that you’re a year older because you already feel old enough.

Regardless, you decide that if he’s gotten you something, it would be rude not to go after it.

You soak in the warm bath water for a few minutes longer before you drain the tub and towel off, throwing on your favorite sweatpants and one of Richard’s large flannels.

There’s a small box under the bed with a note taped to the top.

Happy birthday, my love. I know you didn’t want anything, but I didn’t want you to be bored without me all day ;) in case you haven’t figured it out already, this is a scavenger hunt :) put the puzzle together to find the location of your next clue ♡

Sure enough, the box is full of puzzle pieces that you spread out on the bedroom floor and start piecing together.

You can’t help smiling at how sweet and thoughtful it was of your boyfriend to put this together for you. It doesn’t really feel like a gift even though it technically is—but the fact that he put so much thought into it doesn’t make you feel bad. It’s the kind of gift that you’re sure he had as much—if not more—fun planning than you will unraveling it.

You’re surprised, as the picture starts to become more and more clear piece by piece, that the final image appears to be a shot of your favorite store.

You weren’t really planning to leave the house today, but now it appears that you’re going to have to. You throw on some sneakers and grab your keys—it’s a short drive to the store, one that you drag Richard to for hours at a time every opportunity that you get. He’s always so patient and wears a soft smile as you pick clothes off of nearly every rack and try them all on, nitpicking the small details of how they fit on your body. He has never-ending compliments for you then never fail to lift your spirits when something doesn’t fit exactly like you want it to.

You don’t recognize the bright-haired employee at the counter, but she apparently recognizes you. She calls your name, and when you respond she hands you an opaque garment bag and a piece of paper before returning to her work like nothing even happened.

The page is a crossword puzzle, with certain boxes highlighted, and there’s a note from Richard scrawled across the top of the page in his neat handwriting.

Don’t look inside the bag until you get home :) fill out this crossword puzzle and unscramble the letters in the highlighted boxes to find the location of the next clue ♡

You’re baffled once again by the time and effort he’s put into this, but you decide not to waste any time. You carefully lay the bag down in the backseat—although the urge to peek inside is overwhelming, you can be a good girl when Richard depends on you to be.

You grab a pen from your glovebox and get to work. All of the words are snippets from your relationship with Richard—how many dates you went on before he finally worked up the courage to kiss you (three), how long it took him to win over your parents’ approval (a year and a half), the name of the beach where you gave him his first public blowjob—you can’t help but laugh at the fact that he included that last one.

This puzzle is a little more difficult than the last, but when you finally unscramble the letters, you immediately recognize the name of the restaurant where he took you for your very first date together.

It’s only a short drive to the restaurant, and you smile when you see a note from him taped to the door.

Take a photo of this cipher and solve it while you enjoy lunch ♡

There’s a collection of random numbers underneath his handwriting, and you take a quick picture of the note with your phone before going inside.

It’s been a while since you’ve come to this restaurant, but it brings back so many good memories—of your first date, and also of the handful of dates since that’ve happened here, too.

For nostalgia’s sake you decide to order the same thing you ate on your first date—a generously-sized steak that Richard now says contributed to him falling in love with you on the first date. Why eating a giant slab of meat makes you worthy of his affections, you’re not entirely sure... but you’ll forever be grateful for it.

It takes you a little while to solve this cipher—you’re starting to realize that the clues get harder as you go. Your boyfriend really is a genius, and you can’t wait to see him tonight and properly thank him for this adventure.

It’s a simple number substitution cipher that spells out the name of the movie theatre when Richard finally kissed you—in the dark during one of the most boring movies you’ve ever seen—on your third date.

You’re surprised to find that your meal is already paid for when you ask for the bill—Richard really put a lot of thought into this. Your heart swells with love for him yet again as you get into your car and type the movie theatre into the maps app on your phone.

Your jaw physically drops when you literally see your name in lights on the marquee sign outside of the movie theatre, accompanied by instructions to “pick up your favorite snack inside”.

At the concession stand, another person that you don’t recognize calls your name, and this time the employee hands you a small container of popcorn and a box of your favorite candy.

To your surprise, there’s no note attached to the containers you were given. You almost wonder if you have to eat your snacks to find your next clue before you notice the sign behind the counter.

Go to the ticket booth for most recent showings Exact change appreciated Let us know how to make you feel at home :)

It seems normal besides the fact that there are four words in red while the rest are plain white letters.

Go change at home

The message is clear, and you leave with a smile, excited to finally find out what’s in the garment bag that you’ve had with you all day.

Your smile is constant almost all the way home, and it only grows when you see what’s inside the bag.

It’s the softest white sweatshirt you’ve ever felt in your life and a black corduroy dress—two items that you’ve had your eye on for months but have always ultimately decided weren’t necessities. Again, your heart swells at how attentive and in tune your boyfriend is.

They’re perfectly your size when you slip them on, and infinitely comfortable—if he had to get you a gift, you’re glad it was these.

As you finish changing, you notice a note on the bed—something that definitely wasn’t there this morning. How did he manage to put it there? Isn’t he at work?

There’s no puzzle on this note—just an address that you don’t recognize. You change into some more outfit-appropriate shoes before typing the address into your phone. This one is a longer drive—a little more than half an hour. You’re a bit worried because it’s starting to get late and you want to be home when Richard gets off work, but you’re eager to finish the scavenger hunt that he’s set up for you.

Your GPS guides you to the edge of town, and you recognize the building when you arrive. It’s a small villa on the lake—the place where you took your first vacation together. And there’s another note on the door.

I’m in the back ♡

Your heart beats with anticipation—does this mean Richard’s waiting for you? Did you arrive too early?

There’s a small enclosed patio on the backside of the house—you have to go through the house and down the stairs to access it.

The sight that meets you when you jog down the steps brings instant tears to your eyes.

Richard looks handsome as ever, curls gently slicked back and forearms exposed underneath the rolled up sleeves of the white button-up shirt that he wears tucked into a pair of gray slacks. You would almost feel underdressed if you didn’t know that he picked your outfit out specifically so you would feel comfortable.

As handsome as he looks, that isn’t what brings you to tears. The fact that he’s down on one knee with a small velvet box in his hands is what causes your breath to catch in your throat.

“Richard—“

“Hold on, let me give my speech,” he chuckles brightly, grinning at the way you nod as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

“Mi amor, I feel as if I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. Every day since I finally convinced you to be mine has gotten better and better. Even when we fight, they are some of the best days of my life because I’m with you.” He chuckles tearily as he looks up with you. “You found your way into my heart for life faster than you found all the clues today. And I don’t want to waste anymore time not knowing that you’ll be mine until the day I die.” He flicks the box open—the sizable diamond inside brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. “Will you marry me?”

You drop to your knees before he’s even done asking the question, a sob wracking through your body and your face burning from how wide you smile as you tackle him and press your lips to his. He moans and immediately wraps his free arm around you, drawing you tightly against his chest.

You stay in each other’s arms on your knees like this until you’re both completely breathless, and he chuckles softly when he pulls back for air.

“So... is that a yes?”

“Yes!” You practically squeal as you tackle him again. “Yes, I wanna marry you so bad.”

He grins as he slides the ring on your finger—he gives you a moment to admire it before he gently pulls you to your feet.

He wraps you in his arms and slowly starts swaying with you, to music coming from a speaker on the picnic table that you hadn’t even noticed until now.

“I know you didn’t want anything for your birthday, but it just felt like the right time,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against yours.

You can’t help the soft laughter that bubbles from your diaphragm at that. “I could never be mad at you for this. I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you more.”

You continue swaying together as the sun sets on the lake, wondering how you got so lucky to be with this perfect man.

THE END

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[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eighteen: Faith 

A/N: This is the Eighteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-18 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 4199

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The rapping of knuckles against the old oak door echoed throughout the potions master's office. Breaking through the thick silence that had engulfed the room, a wave of anxiety washed over Severus Snape.

"Can I not go one day without you bothering me, Miss Dumbledore." Snape complained, trying to hide slight crack of nervousness in his voice.

"Sadly, Severus, it is not your beloved Miss Dumbledore." A thick Bulgarian accent announced.

Admittedly disappointed by the unveiling of his visitor, Severus lowered himself back down into his chair, not willing to make an effort for anyone but his apprentice.

"Why are you here, Igor. You should have learned your lesson by now to leave me alone." He said, rubbing his eyes back into focus and running a hand through his hair lazily.

"I have something you'll want to hear." Karkaroff divulged mysteriously, plopping himself down on the chair across from the professor.

"I do not imagine anything you have to say is of any interest to me."

"Then lucky for you Snape, I won't be the one talking."

Unbothered by the man's deliberate awkwardness, Severus allowed him to ramble on, too exhausted to argue with him.

With a flick of his wand and a small puff off smoke, the space between the two men began to whirl and spin, slowly forming a picture-like image in the air, the scene beginning to unfold. Revealing a staff room full of unusually dressed professors, the focus turned to a small cluster of teachers gathered in the centre of the room. Recognising both Igor Karkaroff and Aria Dumbledore sitting side by side on the old couch, Snape grew suspicious of the man's intentions.

"Why are you showing me this?" Severus asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"Just listen." The Durmstrang headmaster hissed.

~

"How do I feel about Snape?" Aria wondered, the scene enclosing in on her.

"He's... curious. He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited."

~

"I don't want to hear this." Snape declared, turning his eyes away from the woman.

"You must." Igor demanded.

~

"...he can be mean and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to say I'd live a happy life if I were to never see that man again."

~

Severus felt his heart drop in his chest, unable to process what he had just heard. Slowly a sharp ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, deafening him to the scene before him, as well as the reality in which he existed. He refused to believe the woman he cared so much about, the woman who had demanded to be his friend, had lied about everything. Did she truly hate him beneath her annoyingly cheerful demeanour, was it all a façade?

He wanted to insist Karkaroff had fabricated the whole thing, but he knew exactly what spell he had cast, there was no way he could have faked it.

A deep rage grew within the man, an anger he had not felt in a number of decades. Severus Snape prided himself on having a monotone disposition, void of all emotion. But that familiar feeling of being betrayed by someone he trusted brought forward a plethora of pent up emotions, namely anger and frustration.

A wide, devilish grin spread across Karkaroff's face, satisfied by his colleague's reaction.

"You see now what she is truly like, Severus. You see now that she was playing you all along. That girl pretends to be your friend to keep her job, not because she likes you." Igor laughed maliciously. "You and I both know what is coming, and when it does, Dumbledore is prepared to replace you. Even he knows where your true loyalties lie. Do not be fooled into thinking the Dumbledore's are your friends. They use you for their own advantage, but the second you are no longer useful, or you become a threat to them, you'll be taken down by any means necessary."

"You're lying." Snape tried to convince himself, refusing to meet the professors gaze. "You're scared of what he will do to you if he returns. You need an alliance with someone on the inside."

"He has returned, you must feel it just as I do." The ex-deatheater practically screamed.

"I will not be manipulated by you Igor. This changes nothing, the girl was nothing but a distraction."

"We both know that isn't true." He sniggered, attempting once last time to convince Snape. "Do you know what she said to me, the last time I was in this office? She told me she could never be with a man like you, she told me your actions were unforgivable. I can prove that as well if you don't believe me."

"Get out, Igor. Just leave." Severus exhaled, starting to pace slowly behind his desk. He knew Karkaroff was trying to manipulate him, he was not stupid enough to fall for that. But proof does not lie, and the facts remain. Everything he was saying true, there was no denying it.

With a short bow, Igor danced out of the room. Completely satisfied with the havoc he'd reeked. He'd successfully toyed with what little emotions the great dungeon bat had left. And who's to say what can happen when Severus Snape's feelings get hurt?

*

Hoot. Hoot.

The bird bleated as it swooped through the open window.

"Another letter for the pile?" Aria sighed to herself. "Will he ever stop?"

Whoo.

It purred in response.

The witch couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.

"You know exactly who." She giggled, plucking the envelope from the creatures beak, and throwing it on the ever growing pile.

"I just wish he would give me some time to think, you know?" She asked turning back to the barn owl, only to witness it taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Look at me. I'm talking to a bird. She thought with a roll of her eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Catching a glimpse of herself reflection of the window, Aria decided she needed to freshen herself up with a little pamper time, finishing the day off with a very long and well deserved nap.

Dumping almost a whole bottle of bubble bath into the tub, topping with springs of lavender and dried chamomile, Aria plunged herself deep into the warm water.

Relaxing for approximately 2.5 seconds, the woman flew out of the bath, her naked body sopping with bubbles, dripping puddles of water as she explored her quarters impatiently.

"Why can I never find any of my books when I need them most!" She groaned, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as goose bumps formed all over her arms and legs.

Letting out a single yelp of excitement, Aria grabbed the first book she laid eyes on and dived back into her tub.

"Pride and Prejudice, of course." She mumbled, thinking back to that night Severus visited her quarters.

As she read and her mind wandered, Aria found herself making unconscious comparisons between the infamous, brooding Mr. Darcy, and her stern, yet lovable Potions mentor, Severus Snape. They were both mildly rude and arrogant, determined to never show their true emotions, but deep down it was quite possible that they loved more fiercely than anyone ever could.

Elizabeth Bennet enchanted Darcy mind, body and soul. If only there were someone brave enough to do the same to Professor Snape. Aria thought, as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the water.

Hours later a thunderously loud 'Bang' frightened Aria awake.

Although not positively sure of how much later it was, she could be certain a decent sleep was had given the icy temperature of the water.

Aria allowed herself a moment to come to, bracing herself against the cold, her was body aching from the ceramic constraints of the tub.

A series of bangs came this time, chapping very loudly on her chamber door. Who ever it was was clearly extremely impatient, forcing her to hurry herself up.

Wrapping herself in nothing but a white cotton towel, the witch slid her way through her rooms to the door. Clearly she wasn't even awake enough to remember where she was, and that answering her door half naked wasn't exactly professional.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The knocks reverberated through her body, sending shivers down her spine.

Gingerly she opened the door, revealing a more than pissed off Severus Snape.

"Severus." She yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't act dumb with me, girl. I am not falling for this act any longer." He snapped.

"What act, Severus? Why are you here?"

"Just tell me why?" He seethed. "Why did go to so much trouble trying to convince me to be your friend, only to confess to Karkaroff, as well as the rest of the Hogwarts staff, your true feelings. Why couldn't you just leave me alone."

"Severus listen, I think we need to talk about this in private. Please come in."

"So you can try and seduce me again? I don't think so. Jesus, look at the state of you, are you really that desperate to entice me? What's next, showing up to dinner completely naked? You really are just as I thought." The potions master growled, his pitch back eyes looking her up and down.

"Severus stop" Aria begged. "I thought we had moved past all this."

"So did I. But considering you have deemed me as "unforgivable" then there doesn't appear to be much point in trying to redeem myself, does there?"

"But you're only going to make everything worse. Let me explain myself, please."

"There is nothing to explain, I shall be putting in a formal request for the headmaster to employ a separate tutor for your apprenticeship in the morning, so you never have to see me again."

The professor stormed off, just as quickly as he had arrived, achieving exactly what he had come to do; humiliate Aria Dumbledore.

Desperate to apologise for her cruel words, Aria made to follow Severus to his classroom.

Forgetting her attire, or rather lack of, she was soon reminded of it when a crowd of Slytherin students erupted in a fit laughter with its fair share of cat-calls and whistles. Clearly they had emerged from their common room to investigate the noise, but stayed for the show of the two arguing potions professors.

"Nice legs, Miss." One of the older boys called, sending a wink in her direction.

Shit. She mumbled under her breath, rushing back to her quarters to change.

Hair still dripping wet, Aria shoved it into a bun on top of her head and pulled on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, before hunting down the potions master.

"Severus, open the door." She called, upon initially finding it to be locked.

He didn't even bother to reply.

Fine. She thought. I'll do it myself.

"Alohomora." The lock burst apart, allowing the door to slowly creep open, revealing a dishevelled and distressed professor sitting at his desk.

"Severus, please." She whispered softly, realising he had clearly come down from his short outburst of rage.

"Get out." He commanded, though he didn't make any effort to remove his head from his hands.

"Let's talk about this." The woman pleaded, pulling a chair up next to the man. "Let me explain everything."

Snape stirred from his position the closer she came, until finally he was able to look her in the eye.

"Go on." He droned. His eyes red and blood shot, whether it was from lack of sleep or tears was unclear.

"You know more than anyone that Karkaroff cannot be trusted-"

"Don't try and lie to me, Miss Dumbledore. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes." Snape snapped.

"Will you let me finish. I'm not lying to you, Severus." Aria promised. "I said what I said because I didn't want them to know the truth, Karkaroff especially. I don't know what his problem is but I know he's up to something and it involves you. You really think I'd answer any question he asked me truthfully. You're my friend, Severus, I care about you, and that man is a snake for trying to turn us against each other."

"Why should I believe you. I've barely known you a few months, I've known Igor decades."

"That is precisely why you should believe me. He's not your friend, Severus. If he was he'd be able to see the real you; the man behind the mask." She urged, begging for his trust.

Reaching out her hand to take his, Aria stroked a thumb over the cold and calloused hand of her friend.

"And who might that be?" Severus questioned in return, feeling slightly nervous under her touch, but not enough to want to pull away.

"A man." She stated simply. "Not a beast, as you and many others may presume. A good, and decent man. Perhaps he's a even a little bit scared, of what I'm not entirely sure yet. But I will find out one day, if you'll allow me, that is. Let me be your friend, Severus. Let me see what you hide from everyone else. And I promise, I'll be there for you when it matters most."

Her sweet soft tones encapsulated Severus. He had become so lost in her words and her touch that without realising he found himself falling for her speech wholeheartedly. He even risked settling his remaining hand upon hers, clasping her delicate fist between his palms.

"Well then I suppose an apology is in order. I believe I may have acted rather rash and unprofessional."

"There's really no need. You reacted just as you should have to the things you heard. I would have done the same thing in your circumstance." Aria admitted, removing her hand from his, as she made to stand up. "Though there is one thing you could do to make it up to me." She suggested.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus joked.

"I want to know what Karkaroff's after. Tell me how you know him. Why does he care so much about your life?"

Snape practically laughed in response.

"We may be friends now, Miss Dumbledore, but I'm afraid that information is rather personal. And I am not convinced we are quite at that stage in our friendship, just yet."

"I respect that." She shrugged, knowing he wasn't about to give in that easily. "I suppose that just means we'll have to get to know each other a bit more." She smiled almost ear to ear at the prospect.

*

"What do you have planned for your lesson today, Professor Dumbledore?" Severus queried, finally using the woman's rightful professional title.

"Ooooh 'Professor' now, am I?" She smirked, sashaying in front of her co-worker, balancing a handful of potion ingredients in her arms.

"I suppose that is your given title after all, I might as well start using it."

"Hmmm I'm not sure. I think it make's me sound too much like my grandfather. I'm not sure I could pull of the beard quite as well, what do you think?" She giggled, holding her long hair in front of her chin, imitating the old wizard playfully before clumsily dropping another dozen bottles on the table.

Severus tried his hardest to conceal his smile, busying himself with paper work, but however hard he tried he could not hide it from Aria. Every so often she managed to catch him off guard, with a silly joke, or a quick witted comment, in those rare times he allowed himself a glimmer of emotion she always managed to notice. Most of the time Severus found himself smiling at the woman for no reason other than she was simply smiling too.

Finally turning her attention away from the potions master, Aria finished setting up her table full of small bottles and vials.

"We're going to play a game." She announced cheerfully spinning on her heel.

"A game?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself turning his nose up at her idea.

"Yes. It's like a test, but more fun." She persuaded, sensing his judgement.

"And what, might I ask, is wrong with a traditional test."  He queried bitterly.

"The students need motivation, Severus. The word 'test' makes people nervous. With nervousness comes panic, and with panic comes mistakes. Fear is not an accurate motivator, however competition is. The students will be less inclined to make mistakes, if they are rewarded for their efforts." The apprentice hypothesised.

"And this reward is?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes, but allowed her to do her thing uninterrupted.

Since their little 'heart to heart' that night in Snape's office the two professors were finding working with each other a lot more amiable. Severus had given Aria a little more free reign with her portion of the lessons, which in turn, allowed her to respect Severus' strict theoretical practices without causing too many interruptions. The pair had almost started to enjoy working together.

Student by student the class trickled in, each of them intrigued by the new set up of the class room.

"Everyone please take your seats, do not touch the table at the front of the room, class will begin momentarily." Miss Dumbledore announced.

A moment of panic set in as Aria scrambled around Snape's desk, looking for her list of possible potions. This may not have been her first time teaching solo, but it was, however, her opportunity to prove her practices are successful in front of her mentor, Severus Snape. The man in question could see the fear in her eyes, and that she was desperate to impress.

"Here." He mouthed, handing her the piece of parchment. "Relax."

Brushing fingers, as she took the parchment from him, Aria grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered, once again turning to face the class, now with a little more confidence.

"Now today, as you may have guessed, we are going to do something a little different. Professor Snape and I have chosen to take this opportunity to allow you, our promising young N.E.W.Ts students, to show off your skill set to the best of your ability's. On this table in front of me you will find a select variety of potions ingredients that correspond to a number of potions all very much within your capability, your task is to complete one of these potions within the allotted time, at the end of which, a winner will be selected by us."

"What do we win then, professor?" One eager student asked.

"A potion of their choice." She declared, impulsively.

A murmer of chatter instantly broke out among the class, intrigued at the prospect of winning such a thing.

"That all sounds very exciting, Miss Dumbledore." Snape cut in, unwilling to take a backseat quite so easily. "However, sadly as an apprentice professor you are not permitted to take anything from my stores to use so frivolously. The prize will have to be decided at a later time."

Unsurprisingly the students weren't too pleased with Snape's intervention causing for a series of disappointed groans and heckles.

"Then I shall make it myself." Aria concluded.

Another bout of cheers erupted.

"Collect your ingredients, light up your cauldrons, your time starts now!"

Immediately the students jumped from their seats, swarming the table to get what they needed. The professors moved away from the crowd, giving the class a moment to get started.

"Miss Dumbledore, this is not a wise decision." Severus spoke in hushed tones. "I understand entirely the prize of a potion chosen by you, but to give them a choice could be extremely dangerous, think of the chaos that will ensue."

"How about you have a little faith in them for once. Trust that they will make the right decision."

Looking down on the woman, Severus couldn't help but trust she would be right.

"I have faith in you. Not in them." He made clear.

Severus made to walk away, leaving Aria to relish in her small victory, until he was suddenly pulled back by the young woman's hand in his. Not saying a word, Aria Dumbledore gave him an appreciative squeeze, before releasing him back to his desk.

The first hour of the classes passed by effortlessly, the students worked quietly and Severus found no reason to complain. All in all, Aria was quite pleased with how her lesson was going.

That was until...

"Oh shiiiiit."

"Language Mr. Lawrence." Severus warned, briefly looking up from his marking.

"Right, sorry sir. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when this thing starts bubbling like crazy." He freaked out, completely ignoring the potions master's warning.

"What?" Aria gasped, only just becoming aware of the situation.

"Yeah like this thing looks likes 'bout to blow, to be honest with you." The seventh year Hufflepuff boy informed nonchalantly.

"Step away from that cauldron students, quickly!" Aria ordered, ushering them to the sides of the classroom.  "You were attempting a wit-sharpening potion, is that correct?"

"Yup."

"I'm afraid there's no saving it now, Mr. Lawrence, the best we can hope for is that it does not turn to acid and burn through bench."

"Out of my way." Severus huffed impatiently, forcing his way through the crowd of students that had formed around the cauldron.

"Pass me that root of ginger" Snape demanded, positioning himself in front of the ever growing cauldron of bubbling green liquid. Aria obeyed hastily, as the professor performed what she could only describe as a miracle on this horrifying concoction. "Some more newt spleens." He requested, holding out a hand expectantly, while the other gripped onto his wand, casting an enchantment over the potion.

The potions master continued adding a bit of this and a dash of that to the potion, all ingredients Aria Dumbledore would never have considered to associate with this particular brew. Jars of herbs, spices and animal parts were passed through the classroom in order to reach Professor Snape who continuously stirred the potion, muttering all sorts of charms and spells.

However skilled Aria had assumed she was at the art of potion making, it was made clear to her that she was no match for Severus' skills, brewing potions was second nature to him now. Within minutes he had achieved what Aria Dumbledore had deemed impossible, and thus the potion was brought back to it's natural state.

"Severus..." The apprentice gawped. "That was amazing."

"That was nothing." He replied curtly, removing himself from the scene. "Everybody back to work, this is not an excuse to slack off."

Still in awe at the pure artistry she had witnessed, Aria trotted sheepishly back to the front of the class.

Blissfully unaware of the pure talent they had just seen, the students continued on with their work. The Hufflepuff boy did not even have the decency to thank his professor for salvaging the mess he called a potion, let alone be grateful he never received a detention, or deduction of house points.

"What are you staring at, Miss Dumbledore, is there no better way you can spend your time?"

"I'm sorry Severus, but that display was just... brilliant." She beamed.

"Like I said, it was nothing. It comes with the job, I refuse to have any of those delinquents burn through my entire store cupboard because they cannot brew a simple potion, a year below their level no less."

"Well, at least we know who definitely won't be winning anyway." Aria giggled.

"The most we can hope for from that boy is that he manages to finish his potion, god knows he'll need it."

Playfully slapping Snape on the arm for his cheek, the witch perched herself on the edge of the professor's desk, attempting a quick sketch on a scrap piece of parchment, while the students begun to finish off their potions.

"Professor Snape, the winner?" Aria asked, turning to her colleague for a verdict once all of the potions had been completed.

"You want me to choose?" Severus replied, skeptical of her offer.

"Of course. I don't think it would be fair of me to do it, considering I've been giving all of them tips this lesson."

"Very well." He droned, stepping forth to analyse the contents of the cauldrons.

"This one." He announced, pointing a single finger to the cauldron of a young Slytherin witch. "Given that it was the only potion brewed to complete perfection, there is no other possible candidate. I suggest the rest of you get studying before your N.E.W.T's exams, at the rate you lot are going, none of you besides Miss Johnstone here is likely to pass." Snape scolded.

"Well then, congratulations Miss Johnstone, you are the winner of a potion of your choice. See me after lessons tomorrow and let me know your decision."

The girl practically beamed with pride, expecting nothing less than first place.

"Class dismissed."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

[theramseyloft]

What is your opinion on The Crazy Pigeon Lady on youtube? Also I'm sorry for what you're going through, hope you get through it just fine.

OohI looked her up, and thus far like her over all.

We have a few differences, but they are thus far location relevant.

In the first episode, she discusses the difference between a pigeon and dove from a purely taxonomical and linguistic stand point, with out any apparent regard for the possibility that the person asking may have been asking about how to differentiate between the different domestic species.

It may not have dawned on her that that was a possible aspect of the question.

She is in the UK, where all white pigeons are colloquially referred to as Doves, and colored birds referred to as Pigeons, giving rise to the common misconception that colored and white pigeons are two different species.

In regards to whether or not pigeons are dirty, she defines ferals as “Formerly domesticated, now wild birds” which is not true in North America, because there are no wild populations of rock doves for ferals to get any fresh infusions of wild blood from.

There are unaltered, still wild native Rock Dove populations in the UK with which ferals can interbreed, making them at least some degree of genuinely wild there.

Her answer concerning pigeons as a disease risk was accurate and thorough.

I’m going through their pigeons as pets series, presently.

Episode one revolves around why some one might want a pet pigeons that is very detailed and largely accurate.

She is not correct in Ringnecks or other species of doves having similar temperaments to pigeons, or in them being more than minorly social (other columbid species pair bond exclusively and do not flock year round the way domestic Pigeons do).

I like that she differentiates Pigeon vs. other columbid species cooing. ^v^

I also like that the why you would want one is followed by “here are some potential issues to consider to make sure this will be a good pet for you before you get one.”

She goes into cleaning, briefly, but succinctly.

And a bit about social needs and commitment.

And considering whether or not you want to breed.

Great introduction, with minimal inaccuracy.

Episode Two is focused on selection and aquisition of the bird.

Ooh! She begins by discussing pros and cons both of purchase from breeders and adopting from a rescue.

Most of the pros from a breeder are excellent and correct, but she does mention among the cons “A pigeon purchased from a breeder takes a home away from a rescue, so consider that if that’s important to you��, which is not true, as people choose to go to a breeder or a rescue for entirely different reasons.

A particularly excellent con she mentions of going to a breeder is that breeders tend to breed in very large numbers, and probably won’t have spent any real time getting to know any individual bird, so the individual’s temperament may be a bit of a crapshoot.

This is something we ae trying to change, but is still very much true of the vast majority of pigeon breeders, and is a fantastic point to consider for looking into the acquisition of a pet.

Their pros and cons of adopting from a rescue were accurate and balanced.

And acknowledging that it is a responsible action for a first time pigeon owner to take time to consider whether or not they can care for a traumatized, disabled, or special needs bird is something I greatly appreciate.

She goes from here into pros and cons of different types of pigeons, categorized as Exhibition, performance, utility, and rescue.

Her assessment that healthy performers can’t or should not be kept indoors (only disabled or geriatric individuals) is inaccurate.

As many of you have seen from my own birds, Homers and Rollers can be perfectly happy indoors, so long as they are not caged in anything smaller than a pigeon proofed room.

It is not a requirement that they be allowed free flight outside to be physically, mentally, or emotionally healthy.

Interesting side note: Apparently, meat pigeons eaten in the UK are more often sourced by hunting than farmed, so commercially bred utility birds are not much of a thing there.

She also goes into whether to start with a single bird or a pair, in excellent detail.

She also lays out that housing and a carrier to bring the bird home in should be prepared before going to get the bird.

She discusses checking the claenliness of the breeder or rescues loft (I like that she specifies to also check a rescue’s cleanliness, rather than assuming a rescue will be clean because it is a rescue.)

Her advice to talk to the breeder or rescue is excellent.

And she goes into a lot of detail of what warning signs to avoid while trying to select a healthy bird.

Going into detail about what healthy poop should look like is an excellent and often overlooked addition that I am especially pleased she has not missed.

She even goes into sexing, meds, and vaccinations.

The discussion of acclimating a  new bird to the changed environment is excellent.

One week is WAY too short a time to isolate a new bird from previous residents. Most pigeon diseases take two to three weeks to develop symptoms, so my minimum quarantine is four weeks.

Their acclimation advice otherwise is fantastic.

Episode three focuses on enclosures and equipment.

Fantastic point was made that there is not an indoor cage large enough for a pigeon to live in full time, and flight time outside of it is a must for several reasons.

Considerations for what type of enclosure of what size in what location is excellent.

Planning for enclosure maintenance is excellent.

Would have liked for her to have shown the enclosures she uses for her birds, but the descriptions are detailed and accurate.

She includes that perches need to be flat on top and not too crowded or numerous.

Pleased by the recommendation of at least one brick. ^v^

I would not advise lining a pigeon enclosure with a towel, because of the ease with which strings can be picked out of place with their claws in the course of just walking over it, which could tangle around the toes and cut off circulation if the string comes free of the towel or break the toe if it doesn’t, and the tangled bird panics.

Fleece is a safe alternative that doesn’t come apart in full threads and will not tangle this way, if you like the idea of a fabric floor.

She details news paper, puppy pads, wood shavings, and sand accurately.

LOVE that she detailed deep ceramic ramekins as being ideal for water, while preferring shallower ones for food and grit.

aaaand there she goes into what to use to feed greens. >v<

Pigeons cannot digest anything but seeds. 

Please do not feed them greens, roots, tubers, stems, flowers, or fruits. 

Yes, there are nutrients in those things, but they do the pigeon absolutely no good if they cannot process those items to get to those nutrients.

This is a very common misconception stemming from parrot care.

The discussion of carriers is succinct and accurate.

Gram scales, claw clippers, measuring equipment, and bath dishes were also discussed in excellent detail.

The next does into diet, and I expect to do a lot of yelling about the addition of veggies. >v<

But, at this point, I think I’ve sampled enough to give a verdict.

The vast majority of what I have seen on care of pet pigeons is accurate, and she breaks things down in perfect detail for beginners looking into getting their first pigeon.

There are a few linguistic and location-specific differences between UK and North American pigeons; things that apply in one that do not in the other. For example, meat pigeons being bred for consumption vs hunted, and whether or not ferals can accurately be described as Wild or semi-wild.

One potentially dangerous bedding material being recommended, one misconception about recue versus breeder, and further perpetuation of a very common dietary myth are the only inaccuracies I have seen so far.

This woman pays close attention to her birds, and they are comfortable and happy in her company, which speaks volumes for her relationship with them.

Her advice for starting to build a relationship with a newly acquired bird is absolutely spot on.

If you, or any of my other followers, would like me to continue reviewing her care series on pigeons as pets, or any other pigeon related content, you are welcome to submit videos for commentary in my ask box.

I greatly respect blogs like @is-the-owl-vid-cute and would not mind providing a similar service in regard to pigeons.

[pixieminutes]

Love Sick | HRJ

genre: fluff, non-idol!au

members: huang renjun x reader, lee donghyuck, na jaemin, lee jeno

warnings: swearing

“y/n! we’re going on a trip—”

“a roadtrip!”

“shut up, donghyuck,” renjun said with an eyeroll, “a kind of roadtrip. want to come? we can sit together in the backseat.”

“and i’ll be sat in the middle!”

“no jaemin, the fuck you won’t,” renjun swore, glaring at the younger boy, “y/n?”

you giggled, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s friends, “i’d love to.”

“she said yes!” renjun shouted, the boys cheering in the background.

“wait!” you laughed, “i’d love to, but i can’t.”

“what? why?” renjun asked, “if this is the stupid fucking project again, i swear to god. we have six months, y/n, six months.”

“no,” you shook your head, “i’m ill, junie. i’m currently under three layers of duvets and a blanket and i’m still shivering. i am also sweating. and a sick bucket is ready beside my bed.”

“huh?” renjun asked, suddenly serious, “are you alright? really?”

“i’m fine,” you chuckled, “go on your kind of roadtrip, okay? make sure you eat healthy things, not just mcdonalds.”

“what the fuck kind of roadtrip would that be?!” donghyuck exclaimed.

“not right now!” renjun scolded his friend before coming back to the phone, “y/n, i’m coming over.”

“no,” you frowned, “renjun, go with your friends.”

“you’re more important than my friends, bubs,” renjun sighed, “i’m coming over and you can’t stop me.”

you chuckled, “i wouldn’t even try.”

renjun smiled, “don’t strain yourself, okay? i’ll be there shortly.”

~

“do you think she’s on her period?” renjun asked absentmindedly as he wondered around the drugstore.

“i don’t think periods are that bad,” donghyuck scoffed, “are they?”

“you’d be surprised,” jeno shrugged, the only other boy out of the four with a girlfriend, “dahee throws up sometimes.”

“from her period?!” jaemin exclaimed.

“shh! this seems very sus!” donghyuck scolded, “four teenage boys talking very loudly about periods.”

renjun rolled his eyes, “no, you’re just uncomfortable talking about periods.”

“am not! i’m a feminist i’ll have you know,” donghyuck said.

“yeah, yeah, we get it, we are all for women’s rights—”

upon the strange, passing look of a middle aged woman, the four boys stopped, nodding and smiling nervously.

“no, i see it now,” renjun nodded, “i’ll just grab some medicine.”

“here, tea,” jeno said, “this one’s healing for headaches.”

renjun smiled appreciatively, jaemin and donghyuck both also piling cuddly toys and chocolate into the mix.

“sorry i can’t go on the roadtrip,” renjun said, pulling out his wallet and paying the cashier.

jaemin laughed, “renjun’s just the best boyfriend!”

donghyuck rolled his eyes, shoving the blonde-headed boy, “shut up, jae. it’s fine. we can all go next week, with y/n.”

“and dahee,” jeno said, smiling at the thought of his girlfriend popping into his head.

jaemin slapped his best friend’s cheek (though some would argue it was barely even a pat), “simp.”

“ya,” jeno laughed.

“well, renjun’s going to look after his sick girlfriend so who’s the real simp?” donghyuck teased, the three already leaving the shop as renjun scrambled to bag his goods.

“ya!” renjun yelled, “lee donghyuck!”

~

“gorgeous!” renjun shouted, “renjun who brightens the world is here!”

a soft giggle came from under your blankets, renjun’s footsteps coming closer providing you with an exciting heart flutter, one that appears every time your boyfriend comes close.

“my baby!” he cooed, rushing forward and cupping your face in his hands, “you’re so cold.”

you nodded, “i woke up sweating and then suddenly needed 10 million layers.”

renjun pouted, “did you eat something funny?”

you thought back slightly, shaking your head.

“are you on your period?”

you shook your head.

“just finished your period?”

“nope.”

“about to start your period?” renjun asked, his eyebrows raised.

you clicked your fingers, nodding, “that could be it.”

renjun chuckled, stroking your hair gently.

“i think i have a flu as well though,” you sighed, “my throat hurts like a bitch.”

“do you need anything?” renjun asked, looking around at the used tissues and empty cups and bowls on your bedside table.

you shook your head slightly, afraid that anymore would disrupt your headache, which had seemed to have calmed down for the moment.

renjun nodded, “just sleep, love. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you tried to smile, tried to nod, but nothing wanted to happen. you just closed your eyes slowly, the corners of your lips twitching upwards as renjun pressed soft kisses to your closed eyelids.

“ah, jeez,” he sighed, looking round.

he started to collect up the used tissues, grimacing as he threw them in your bedroom bin. then, as quietly as he could, he collected up all your plates, bowls and cups; the glass on glass and china on china noises making him grimace as he tiptoed out of your bedroom.

placing them all in the kitchen, he then moved to your bathroom, running warm water to fill up the ceramic bathtub.

“there were birds in the sky, but i never heard them singing. no, i never heard them at all, till there was you,” renjun sang as he arranged his convience store goodies on a tray, placing them on the end of your bathtub, “then there was music, and wonderful roses...”

you smiled, appearing in the doorway with small steps.

“and what is this?” you asked with a slight smirk.

renjun sighed, looking you up and down. you were wearing one of his old t-shirts, he was about to throw it away when you snatched the entire ‘chuck’ pile, and kept them all to yourself. underneath, nothing but a pair of your underwear (your comfy ones, not your sexy ones) and some small white socks.

“how are you still the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen, even with the flu?”

you laughed, a smile lighting up your face, no makeup gracing your features and greasy hair tied up in a half-ponytail.

“i ran you a bath,” renjun said, still taken aback by your visuals, “and i bought you some stuff on the way here.”

“ah, that’s my favourite chocolate!” you gasped, “thank you, junnie.”

renjun smiled, kissing your nose before beginning to lift his t-shirt off your head, “you’re welcome, bubs.”

you took off all your clothes slowly before sinking into the warm liquid, spreading it all over your body as renjun sat on the closed toilet seat, watching in wonder.

“shall we watch a movie this afternoon?” he proposed.

you nodded, sniffling and coughing, both actions setting off the other.

“do you need a tissue?”

you nodded, sneezing, “please.”

“well if you look at the handy pile of things i bought for you,” renjun said proudly, picking up a packet of tissues and placing them into your hands.

you laughed, “wow, my boyfriend’s so amazing, huh?”

renjun nodded with a smile, “so amazing he’ll even wash your hair.”

your eyes widened slightly, your body filling up with love, “you will?”

nodding proudly, renjun sat beside your bathtub with his already-prepared jug to pour water through your hair. he ran his fingers through it as he went, making sure it was smooth and wet enough for your tropical-scented shampoo.

“leave the conditioner in,” you said, taking a sip of the banana milk your boyfriend had so kindly bought you, “at least for a bit.”

“yes ma’am.”

you laughed, shaking your head at renjun’s stupidity as his hands massaged your scalp gently.

you moaned, “you’re amazing. i love you, renjun.”

he just smiled and decided not to dwell on the fact it was the first time you’d said those words.

~

“renjun!”

“coming!” he exclaimed, coming through into the living room with a measuring spoon full of red liquid, “here, take your medicine.”

you frowned, swallowing the liquid with a pained expression.

“big baby,” renjun chuckled, walking back to the kitchen and collecting the bowls of ramen he’d prepared.

“you’re the one who wants to watch mulan!” you protested.

“mulan is a great, educational movie with a strong, feminist lead!”

“and a talking dragon.”

“mushu is a bonus,” renjun said, glaring at you.

laughing, you shook your head and pressed play on the movie.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you sighed, snuggling into his embrace.

“thank you for loving me. and for saying it out loud,” renjun smiled, kissing the top of your head, the tropical scent lingering in his nose, “but you’ll never know how much i love you too.”

you laughed, watching as you nudged his feet slightly with yours, “wanna bet, lover boy?”

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 11 of A Rockwaller Christmas Carol

FFNet Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14005722/11/A-Rockwaller-Christmas-Carol

Chapter 11 - The Second of the Three Spirits - Part IV

The Spirit Brick took Bonnie to another part of Middleton.

"Spirit...where did you take me to this time?" Bonnie asked, looking at the houses around here. "These houses seem to be...old."

"Exactly!" the Spirit Brick replied, "We're in the Garden District area! These houses were built between the era of the Great Depression and the Second World War."

Bonnie observed the architecture of the houses.

"Yep...they look old alright..." she replied.

"I want you to focus on one house in particular." the Spirit Brick replied. He pointed to a house that had white siding on it and it looked weathered.

"When was this house built?" Bonnie asked about the house the Spirit Brick pointed to.

"That house was built in 1937." came the Spirit Brick's reply, "That is the house of one of your overworked and underpaid workers at the tabloids, Emily Cratchit."

It was indeed a 1,450 square foot two-story house with four bedrooms and two baths.

Bonnie and the Sprit Brick peered through their house, looking at the kitchen.

"Her husband, Bob, just came back from his job at Smarty-Mart after a 12-hour shift, since all Smarty-Marts are closed for Christmas." the Spirit Brick explained, "And there are three of their four kids."

Bob was wearing khakis and a white button-down shirt with the famed orange Smarty-Mart vest and his manager nametag on it. Emily, in the meantime, changed from her pantsuit to a pair of baggy Blue Star overalls over her white oversized Oh-Boyz t-shirt and worn sneakers. The left buckle on the bib was bent so it moved up and down against the button.

Bonnie also saw three children, one male and two female. The eldest brother was wearing a blue T-shirt with the Nakasumi Toys video game logo on it with blue jeans. The elder sister was wearing a white t-shirt with worn jeans with holes in the kneecaps and the younger sister was wearing a pink t-shirt with warmups.

"Peter is the oldest at 17 being a senior at Middleton High, followed by Martha at 13 years as an 7th grader at Middleton Junior High and Belinda is a 11-year old 5th grader at Middleton Upper Elementary." the Spirit Brick explained the ages and which school in the MUSS to Bonnie.

"What is taking your dad so long to take the Christmas turkey out the oven?" Emily asked.

Peter interjected, "Surely he's trying to put on the 11 secret herbs and spices on the bird. Martha was the one who was supposed to keep an eye on the turkey last year and it got burned."

"Where is Tim, by the way?" Martha asked.

"He should be heading downstairs." Bob replied as he applied the herbs and spices to the turkey. "Just give him a few minutes."

And then, coming down the stairs was the smallest of the four Cratchit kids. He was struggling to get down the stairs due to an infection in his leg, having to use a small metal crutch.

"That is Tiny Tim, the youngest of the four kids." the Spirit Brick said, "He is a six-year old first grader at Middleton Lower Elementary School. But the Cratchits had to pull him out and homeschool him."

"Peter, can you and Emily grab the turkey? Bob's gonna hold him." Emily suggested.

Peter and Emily grabbed the turkey from the kitchen as Bob held Tiny Tim, all up his shoulder while holding his small metal crutch. Bob was muscular as he could lift 50-pound boxes with ease so holding his youngest son upon his shoulder was easy for him.

"How did little Tim behave today?" asked Emily. Bob then put down Tim and hugged both his daughters.

"As good as gold!" replied Bob. They all heard Tim's metal crutch on the linoleum floor before Tim himself sat down on his chair. Emily then set the ceramic plates on the table and as she did so, the left overall strap slipped off the button and the bib curled forward. Emily decided to simply let the strap fall behind her back.

The Christmas turkey was itself sufficient enough to feed a family of six with apple sauce and mashed potato mix, all from Smarty-Mart. After about 25 minutes, they managed to consume about 75% of the turkey with the remaining leftovers going into the fridge. In terms of drink, they all had primarily Smarty-Mart brand sodas.

They then had chocolate pudding afterwards with imitation whipped cream for dessert, again from Smarty-Mart because their competition, the M-Mart, was too expensive.

Bob proposed with "A Merry Christmas to all, my dears. God bless us!" All of the Cratchit family re-echoed what their father said.

"God bless us everyone!" said Tiny Tim, last of them all. He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held his hand to his son's withered hand, as if he deeply loved the child and wanted to keep him by his side.

"Why did they pull him out of school?" Bonnie asked, looking at Tiny Tim in particular.

"It is because the disease in his leg is progressing." the Spirit Brick replied. "There is only one type of medicine that can get rid of the disease. The major downside to it is that it cost ten thousand dollars."

"And how much were the Cratchits able to raise for their kid?" Bonnie questioned.

"Only $1,400 to be exact because they are barely able to scrape by with what they have." the Spirit Brick answered.

"Spirit..." said Bonnie, with an interest she had never felt before, "...tell me if Tiny Tim will live!"

"I see a vacant seat..." replied the Spirit Brick, "...in the poor chimney corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If the Cratchits are unable to raise the remaining $8,600 for the treatment and if these shadows remain unaltered by the future, the child will die."

"No, no!" Bonnie exclaimed with tears in her eyes, "Oh no, kind Spirit! Say he will be spared!"

"If these events are unchanged, none of my ghostly friends will find the child here." the Spirit Brick said, "If the poor die off in the cold winter, they'd better do it and decrease the surplus population of this damn planet!"

Bonnie hung her head to hear her own words quoted by the Spirit Brick and was overcome with penitence and grief.

"Bonnie, will you decide, in your wicked heart, which people should live and die? It may be, in the sight of the Man Upstairs, that you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like Mr. Cratchit's kid." the Spirit Brick continued.

Bonnie bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and cast her eyes on the ground. But she raised them speedily upon hearing her own name.

"Miss Rockwaller!" Elizabeth exclaimed, "I'll give you Miss Rockwaller, the founder of the feast!"

"The founder of the feast indeed," Bob cried with his cheeks reddening, "I wish I had her here. I'd give her a piece of my mind and I hope she likes its aftertaste."

"Bob, you do know that Christmas is tomorrow, right?" Elizabeth asked.

"It should be Christmas Day, I'm sure!" Bob replied, "on which one drinks to the health on an unfeeling bitter woman like Miss Rockwaller. You know how she is, Elizabeth, since you work for her in the tabloids. A long life to her! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"

After the Cratchit parents drank their sodas from the plastic cups, the kids drink it next with Tiny Tim being the last one. Bonnie was the ogre of the family. The mention of her name cast a dark shadow on the part, which was not dispelled for 5 minutes.

Then, the Cratchits were merry again, despite the fact that they were lower-middle class. Of course the Cratchit kids had to go through the MUSD. They could not afford the two private schools that were in the city: Middleton Prep School or St. Francis of Assisi Catholic School because of the high tuition rates.

They were happy, grateful, and pleased with one another and contented with the time.

Bonnie had her teal eyes on them, especially on Tiny Tim until the family faded from his view.

"I should definitely give my workers a much better Christmas bonus than in years past..." she muttered "...and especially Emily. She needs the money more than I do..."

By this time, it was getting dark and snowing pretty heavily. Bonnie and the Sprit Brick went along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in the kitchens, dens and living rooms were wonderful.

"Spirit..." Bonnie mustered the courage to ask, "...is there any other house we should stop at?"

"We're gonna stop at one more house." replied the Spirit Brick. "Again, Bonnie, touch my robe!"

Bonnie touched the Spirit Brick's robe again and they both disappeared.

[sophisticated-creepy]

Daybreak was bright, crisp, and exhilarating, Lola feeling every fiber of her being humming with excitement as the brisk autumn sun kissed her face. She was inspired and playful, eager to attack the morning as she initiated day one of her research plans. The more she thought about the Hobblin’ Goblin for her story, the more she realized she didn’t know the essentials to his origins. She was completely attached to the idea of him being her “Mr. Goblin”, the imaginary friend and childhood companion, and never dove deeper into why he played his pranks, only that he did, and therefore, negated any notion for further investigation. He simply existed, and her imagination conceived the rest. Even Raphael, she discovered over breakfast, wasn’t fully aware of the iconic legend’s origins, and he was a history Professor.

“I guess I don’t know him as intimately as I thought,” she said, stunned to the awakening of her own ignorance regarding the goblin.

“Don’t feel badly,” Raphael had comforted. “I have no doubt you’ll turn this story of yours into an adventure yet.”

Taking her beloved’s advice to heart, Lola got into the proper mindset for delving into the task of research. Her deadline was fast approaching, and she wanted to make as much headway as possible in gathering her facts before putting pen to paper. Five hundred words held the capability to be irrevocably profound. This challenge was an opportunity to showcase depth instead of fluff, so today was all business, strictly pounding the streets for information, putting in the hard work of sleuthing, deducing, and discovering what exactly made the Hobblin’ Goblin tick.

Since the town was saturated in claims of the goblin’s mischief, Lola decided that she would first get as many personal testimonies from the victims of these pranks as possible. Then, upon more research, she would be able to see what connections in claims could help in unlocking the mystery of the Hobblin’ Goblin, allowing her assignment to look into the character of the people affected by the imp, and give her plot heart. Her own opinions were too biased in a light-hearted, flouncy sort of parody she perceived of the goblin’s personality, and while in some cases that may translate well in a fairytale aspect of playful misdemeanors, Lola wanted substance, something tangible to pull in the judges’ interests. As she gathered enough information, she would know in which direction to craft her words.

One such person she wanted to interview first was her former retail manager Stacy. Lola had spent a sizeable amount of time as an associate of the boutique Lotions and Potions, and had a few experiences of her own in her pocket to pull from if need be, but Stacy swore up and down that the place was actively haunted, sharing her stories daily of what went bump in the night. Stacy tended to lean on the side of over-exaggeration, but Lola wouldn’t discount any leads if the potential to find a nugget of inspiration rested somewhere in the spinning of a yarn, so onwards confidently she marched, notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, and entered the establishment filled with buttermilk and bubble bath.

The familiar chime sounding as she walked through the door brought a smile to her face, however, seeing Stacy on her hands and knees in front of a cabinet of decorative glass bottles had her frowning. A clumping of paper towels and a wastebasket at an elbow told Lola that, at least, nothing dire had happened.

“Do you need some help?” Lola asked, setting her belongings on the checkout counter as she fully entered the store. Stacy glanced up from her position, giving her head a slight shake, crookedly smiling at the former employee.

“You don’t work here anymore, Lola, it’s no longer your job to help clean up spills,” Stacy remarked, carefully scooping up a glob of lavender scented lotion mixed with glass shards.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend.” Lola went to get the cleaning supplies on hand stowed in a nearby cabinet drawer for emergencies such as these. She handed the bottle of cleaner to Stacy while she herself took up a broom to gather fly away chunks of glass. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Stacy sighed, spraying down the ceramic tiled floor, cleaning up the last of the mess. “A bottle of lotion leapt off the shelf is all.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Lola grasped the broom tightly to her chest in delight, a beaming smile lighting up her eyes as she turned excitedly to the woman still crawling on the ground.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Stacy informed. “I mean, product isn’t cheap, you know. I’ll be out of business if things keep flying off my shelves only to have them break on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lola frantically apologized. “It’s just…I couldn’t ask for more perfect timing. May I record you?”

“Record me? What…?” Stacy watched flabbergasted as Lola rushed to her purse resting on the checkout counter, rummaging deep within the numerous confines before emerging with a portable tape recorder. Lola immediately rushed back over to her former manager, sliding to her knees, shoving the recorder up close to a bewildered Stacy’s face.

“How did the bottle fly off the shelf? Did you hear a noise prior to it falling, or after? Like, maybe a thumping, dragging sound? Was there an ominous presence before it happened? Did you see a shadow figure? Do you believe this was the work of the Hobblin’ Goblin?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stacy laughed, rearing back on her haunches, straightening away from Lola’s tape recorder and barrage of strange questions. She couldn’t help but find humor in Lola’s exuberance. “Ease up there, gumshoe. Are you playing detective now, or something?”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation for the creative arts,” Lola declared seriously.

“Sounds important.” Stacy got to her feet, taking with her the wastebasket and cleaning implements, stowing the items behind the main counter, Lola a closely following shadow.

“So, about this incident with the lotion bottle…do you think it was a prank caused by the notoriously reputable Hobblin’ Goblin?” While leaning over the counter, Lola held her tape recorder out to Stacy. “Try to speak slowly and clearly. And enunciate,” she added, demonstrating her instructions in the same manner she wished her friend to speak.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the Hobblin’ Goblin? And why are you using a tape recorder? Do they even make tapes anymore? There is a thing called ‘digital’, you know.”

“First of all Stanley,” Lola began, indicating her tape recorder’s name, “has been with me since the beginning. He was there when I got scared by a bird that one time during an evening stakeout.”

“When did you---?”

“Secondly,” Lola interrupted, “I’m asking these questions because I’m working on a story about the Hobblin’ Goblin. Weird things happen in here all the time, and I wanted to get some of your stories and see if they line up with our local legend and his patterns for hauntings.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’d be glad to talk about the hauntings that happen here. I have plenty of stories to share.”

“Great!” Lola cheered. “Let’s get started with what happened right before I walked in.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Stacy stated, waving her hand dismissively at the cabinet full of fancy lotions. “That was probably a case in gravity, if I’m honest. The truly weird things come about in the early mornings when I’m trying to get the store ready to open.”

“Tell me about these weird things.” Even with her recorder rolling, Lola still took handwritten notes to capture important details in the moment so as not to miss an idea that could be overlooked when reviewing the tape several hours later.

“For starters, it’s like I’m being watched,” Stacy described. “I can feel eyes on me, observing me, and it’s very unnerving. Sometimes I hear footsteps following behind me, and when I turn around to look, there’s no one there.”

“What kind of footsteps? Is there a limp? Are they heavy set? Quick?”

“More of a gentle shuffling,” Stacy clarified. Lola frowned while marking in her notebook.

“The Hobblin’ Goblin is supposed to walk with a crutch, so his step pattern should be different than ‘normal’ sounding footsteps,” Lola voiced her thought aloud. “Is there anything else out of the ordinary that you can think of? Maybe something that pertains to the goblin himself?”

Stacy thought hard, trying to recall occurrences of the abnormal befalling her boutique. “Sometimes I hear breathing,” she said at last. “And sometimes, things will fly off the shelves. I’ve had the record player cut off on me once or twice as well.”

All of Stacy’s stories sounded more of a casual haunt than specifically that of a trickster, the activity appearing more benign as opposed to mischievous. Lola wanted to stay as open minded and unbiased as possible as she asked her questions to help form her story, but she was honestly hoping for something more lively and extraordinary. “Can you tell me of anything…fun?”

“Fun?” repeated Stacy.

“I mean, has anything…I don’t know…silly…happened in the time you’ve experienced these haunts? The Hobblin’ Goblin is a light hearted trickster, he plays pranks. Do things go missing only to turn up in the most random places? Do the lights flicker as if to say ‘hello’?”

“I had a pen thrown at me,” Stacy shared. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘fun’, but it was the most out of the ordinary incident to have happen to me.”

Lola perked up at hearing the news. “What were you doing when that happened?”

“Actually, I was talking with a customer about the Hobblin’ Goblin a few days ago,” Stacy recalled, the memory of the conversation returning to her mind. “When it happened, I just laughed, figuring he must not have appreciated what it was I had been saying.”

“What did you say?” Lola’s sparkle was back in her eyes as she eagerly listened to what Stacy had to tell.

“I said I thought that he was childish, and that there were a lot more scary things out in the world than an imp who merely liked to play tricks.”

“Oh, Stacy,” Lola admonished, clicking her tongue reprovingly. “That was cruel.”

“How was I being cruel?”

“You said his pranks were childish like it was a bad thing,” Lola pouted. “Goblins are generally mischievous, and you insulted him. I think you might even have gone as far as to hurt his feelings.”

Stacy laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you would defend the Hobblin’ Goblin?” The door chime announced a new arrival walking into the boutique as the friends were sharing a laugh. Stacy looked over Lola’s shoulder to greet the person, smiling friendly as she recognized the mail carrier. “Good morning, Joyce.”

“Good morning, Stacy. Morning, Lola,” the mail woman greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while, little miss. How’s tricks? Staying out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lola jest. “Hey, Joyce, do you have any stories of being pranked by the Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola turned her recorder towards the mail woman, prepared to document the newest insights into her subject matter.

“I have no time to deal with pranks,” Joyce stated. “I deliver the mail, and go about my day peacefully. I don’t call upon the Hobblin’ Goblin to play his tricks on me.”

“Meaning, she’s afraid of him,” Stacy snidely commented good humoredly.

“I respect the spirits, Stacy,” Joyce quipped in return with a smile, no malice exchanging between the two friends. “Why are you asking?” she then asked Lola.

“I’m doing research for a story about the goblin, and I wanted him to have some authenticity to his character,” she answered.

“I see. Just be careful where you go poking around,” cautioned Joyce. “You don’t want to inadvertently stir up trouble.”

“Actually, I think she does,” Stacy teased.

“More or less,” Lola agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Joyce. I’ll make sure I’m careful,” she promised.

“You’ve got a good heart, Lola, I’m confident you’ll be safe.” Reaching into her mailbag, she passed a handful of envelopes and a newspaper to Stacy. “You be careful, too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stacy defended.

“Yet, but I know you also like to go looking for trouble. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a tip of her hat, and a wink of an eye, Joyce left the boutique.

“I should probably get going, too,” Lola sighed, shutting off her recorder and gathering her belongings. “I was going to see if maybe Mr. Jasons would be interested in sharing some of his stories next. Thanks for letting me bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me in the slightest,” Stacy assured as she began filing through her mail. “Oh, hey, look at this,” she said, unfolding the newspaper to read. “The old train yard at the Miners Museum made the front page.”

“Neato,” Lola responded automatically, only half listening as she slung her purse over her shoulder, her mind already on her next objective.

“Oh, my God! Someone was attacked!”

“Wait, what?” Stacy’s declaration fully captured Lola’s attention. “What happened?”

Stacy’s eyes furiously scanned the front page, speed reading as much of the information as she could. “The police aren’t sure,” she shared after a breathless pause. “They say a security guard was pushed down while chasing away some kids during the middle of the nightshift rounds. He hit his head on the railway of the old mine train. He has a major concussion and a fractured skull.”

“That’s horrible,” Lola gasped.

“It continues to say that another guard found him in the train yard shortly after he fell. No evidence, however, of the kids, allegedly, playing around the site could be found,” Stacy concluded.

“Poor guy,” Lola sympathized. “Are they sure it was kids mucking about, and that he didn’t just accidently trip?”

“Looks like it,” she validated, continuing to rove the paper. “The second guard states the first guard, the victim, went to go chase away the kids playing by the mineshaft when they saw flashing lights from the security monitors. Here’s a picture of the scene.” Stacy turned the paper around for Lola to see the front page where a photo of the old steam engine and mine were pictured, and with it, just on the outer margins, was the backdrop of the Dead Forest. Lola felt a chill creep down her spine as she looked at the newspaper. Something ominous radiated from the main image, and she squinted critically at the photo, taking the paper to examine the image closer where a shadowed form blending into the tree line, a darker mass of shapes, hovered half-cropped out of frame. The anomaly warranted further investigation, and Lola knew just the person from whom she wanted a second opinion.

“Do you mind if I hang onto this?”

“You can keep it,” Stacy offered. “I don’t read much from the paper anymore.”

“Thanks,” Lola said distantly, her eyes glued on the blurry, pixelated blob. She began to turn and leave when Stacy summoned her back.

“Little witch,” she called. Lola blinked, focusing on Stacy. “Are you planning on flying out of here, or may I have my broom back?”

“Hmm? Oh! My bad,” Lola chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” Lola leaned the broomstick she had been holding onto since helping clean up the broken bottle against a cabinet. “I didn’t even realize I’d still been holding it.”

“It’s hard for a witch to hide what comes naturally,” Stacy joked, giving Lola a look that spoke of amusement.

“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” Lola kidded back. “And thanks again for sharing your time and stories with me, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.” The two waved their goodbyes, and Lola stepped out onto the historic cobblestone, once more lost in the picture of her newspaper.

“There’s just something ‘off’ about this picture,” Lola murmured to herself. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m hoping Modesta can.” Folding the newspaper back into its original shape, Lola cradled the bundle into the crook of her arm along with her notebook, her coffee in one hand, and set her confident march towards her friend’s shop of Curios and Oddities.

~~~~~~~~~~