#like the hats? I hung my implement up after using it on both of you

[gonzodangerfeels]

The waveform of sperm

The majestic gravity of the center of the womb

[twunny20fission]

Books of 2024

Here are the books I read in 2024, with some thoughts on each

“The World We Make” by N.K. Jemison. A sequel to a book I was looking forward to, but found a bit disappointing. This one was fine. It really made the first book shine by comparison. The series was supposed to be a trilogy, but the author didn’t want to do it anymore. So this one felt rushed.

“Sweet Tooth, Book One” by Jeff Lemire. Visually great and well-written. Didn’t blow me away, but felt worthwhile. I’d like to read the next in the series, but it’s harder to find.

“Pageboy” by Elliot Page. This is one of those memoirs where you think, “well, they definitely didn’t hire a ghost writer.” Page is not a skilled writer. The stories he lived through were enough to be good nonetheless.

“Moon Knight, Vol. 1: The Midnight Mission” by Jed McKay, et al. Pretty tame for such an interesting character.

“Moon Knight, Vol. 2: Too Tough to Die” by Jed McKay, et al. Meandering, with a rushed ending. Meh.

“Safe & Sound” by Mercury Stardust. How to take care of a lot of stuff around your house. It was inspiring and affirming. Not a lot of it was necessarily useful to me presently. But it was still good.

“Usagi Yojimbo, Vol 6: Circles” by Stan Sakai. I love everything about Usagi. This is a strong volume.

“Evvie Drake Starts Over” by Linda Holmes. A great time. I took a swing on a type of book I don’t normally pick up, and I’m extremely happy I did. It’s a romance novel, but not AT ALL a bodice-ripper. A modern, thoughtful, realistic novel about an adult woman falling in love. Super good.

“The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck” by Mark Manson. Nowhere near as good as I wanted it to be. Very bro-ey, and not particularly resonant.

“Ms. Marvel Vol 5: Super Famous” by G. Willow Wilson, et al. A very middle-of-the-road entry in Wilson’s Marvel volumes.

“Making It So: A Memoir” by Patrick Stewart. Outstanding. Exceeded every expectation, and my expectations were high. Even the less-than-flattering elements of his life were handled well.

“Ms. Marvel: The New Mutant” by Iman Vellani, et al. This book really hung its hat on “Iman Vellani got to write this one.” Which is great, but it wasn’t a spectacular book.

“An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us” by Ed Yong. Very disappointing. It could have been very cool, but it was not.

“poyums” by Len Pennie. I dislike 95% of all poetry I've ever experienced. This book is in the other 5%. Even when I didn’t understand it (either because it was in Scots, because it was poetry, or both) it was great.

“Ms. Marvel Vol 6: Civil War II” by G. Willow Wilson, et al. Good art, mediocre plots, pretty decent dialogue.

“Camp Damascus” by Chuck Tingle. I listened to the audiobook, but I’m counting it. This was engaging start to finish. The creepy parts were good, and the sense of fun that the author brings to things was apparent throughout.

“Mighty Nein Origins: Beauregard Lionett” by Mae Catt, et al. None of these Origins books were great standalone stories. This one was *pretty* good.

“Sourcery” by Terry Pratchett. Another great entry in what might at this point be my favorite book series. Like ever. After I reckoned with the fact that I’d never read another Douglas Adams book, I figured that part of my brain would go fallow. Thank goodness for Sir Terry, and thank goodness he was so prolific. This one was exciting and emotional.

“Three Novels,” by Samuel Beckett. I don’t get what he was trying to do here. Beckett’s plays work for me. Whatever this was did NOT. I tortured myself into finishing it, after a months-long break.

“Star Trek: Lower Decks #1” by Ryan North, et al. Really enjoyable. You have to come into the book with a knowledge of how Lower Decks works. Which I have, and it was great. Ryan North has never missed.

“Survival Street” by James Asmus, et al. As with any good satire, this was hard to “enjoy.” It was too sharp an implement, but it was very well-executed. The idea is that the S*same St*eet m*ppets are real, living, immigrant people. And when the tyrannical government takes over and de-funds PBS and basically all non-propaganda children’s TV, they go HAM.

“Fourth Wing” by Rebecca Yarros. Very glad I picked this one up. I get caught in the “do I really have bandwidth for a long book, or to start another series right now” of it all. But this one was worth it. But I wish it had been a little less infatuation-obsessed. The romance makes sense, and is even relevant to the plot. But the “oh, how could I ever have denied myself the exquisite pleasure of having this person’s skin under my fingertips” is just…blegh.

“The Adventure Zone, Vol. 6: The Suffering Game” by the McElroys, et al. The comics are not as good as the podcast. Part of that opinion might be nostalgia for the golden age of “about 10 years ago.” But it’s how I feel. This one fits in nicely with the others, which is to say it’s competently written and arted. There are one or two great bits per book, but overall it’s fine.

“Wyrd Sisters” by Terry Pratchett. I look back on every Discworld novel with a sense of it being the best one and not as good as at least one other one. My favorite is constantly in flux. This one stands out for its treatment of the magic of theater (and greater magick of headology) and its deeper insights into the witches.

“A Wizard of Earthsea” by Ursula Le Guin. I should have read this sooner. It pretty much holds up, though the style is clearly of a type that no one really uses anymore.

“Priestdaddy” by Patricia Lockwood. Bit of a disappointment. It was like reading a clever blog of an autobiography. I didn’t really hold together well. A lot of it was entertaining, but it wasn’t Great.

“Legends and Lattes” by Travis Baldree. Right up my alley. A very cozy, thoughtful story in a kind of hand-wavy fantasy world. Really enjoyed it.

“The Theory of Everything Else” by Dan Schreiber. Wasn’t exactly a narrative, wasn’t exactly just a list of facts & curiosities. It was okay. I feel like Schreiber is at his best in the audio format, in the company of other weirdos.

“Pyramids” by Terry Pratchett. Very cool expansion of Discworld. I’m hoping it is a foundation to something ahead, as I liked the characters and the new elements of the plane.

"Iron Flame" by Rebecca Yarros. A stellar second entry in the series. It was infuriating how engrossed I was for the last 150 or so pages especially. The spicy scenes still seem to be...too much. They stick out as an insanely different experience than the rest of the narrative. Look, I liked the book a lot. I had a hard time telling certain characters apart sometimes, and some of the narrative bits were too confusing until they weren't. This series is A Lot.

Metrics!

Total books: 31 Total (non-graphic novels and other picture-heavy books) pages: 6450 Total pages: 8403 Highest-rated: Making It So Lowest-rated: Three Novels Very Glad I Read It Award: poyums Honorable Mention: Evvie Drake Starts Over Glad It's Over Award: The World We Make Most disappointing: Three Novels

[hyperpsychomaniac]

The Woodchuck Leader Assessment - Chapter 4

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: When Launchpad’s ability to supervise children is called into question, Dewey tags along on a Junior Woodchuck trip to support his best friend.

Chapter 1

Also cross-posted on fanfiction.net.

***

Dewey slipped into his and Huey’s tent. And found not only Huey, but Violet and at least a half dozen of the other Woodchucks.

“What…”

“Shh!” said Huey.

“Oh yes, I am claiming running through camp in my underpants,” said Doofus as he rubbed his hands together. “Back off; it’s mine!”

No one argued.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dewey snatched his pillow back from one of the other kids.

“We were discussing the implementation of stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols,” said Violet.

Dewey raised an eyebrow. “So what was stage 1?”

“Behaving for Launchpad.”

“And stage 2?”

The faintest smile touched Violet’s beak. “Only behaving for Launchpad.”

“Yeah.” Huey hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m not sure stage 2 is going to be enough, all by itself. I mean, LP’s great, but I don’t know if we can depend on him. If he can’t supervise us… it was like Mr Russell said, there’s nobody else. What am I going to do without my Woodchucks?!” He lunged at Dewey and dragged him towards him.

Dewey extricated his brother’s fingers from his shirt. “Calm down. I don’t care about your Woodchucks. But if what we’re talking about is going to help Launchpad…” Dewey chewed his lip. On the bus, Launchpad had just been, off. What the heck had happened between him and Mr Russell? It had to be something to do with the kid who drowned, but Launchpad didn’t want to talk to him. He was his best friend and Dewey knew if it was something important he’d want to share it with him. The fact he hadn’t… yeah, really off. “So, only behaving for Launchpad…?”

“A combination of multiple children needing walking to the bathroom, Doofus running around in nothing but his underwear…”

“Or, I could ditch the underwear.”

“No. … toilet paper, someone crying for their teddy bear, at least one item of Mr Russell’s clothing hung off a tree, and we make every attempt to respond to his orders with…?”

“Okay, Boomer,” said all the Woodchucks at once.

“Of course, the whole point is if Launchpad comes back we all immediately behave to prove he can control us,” said Huey, “or NO MORE WOODCHUCKS.”

“Boo,” said Dewey. “Huey may actually be right: it’s not enough. Launchpad needs better than that. You don’t just want to behave for him. You’ve got to prove he’s the sort of leader who would do anything to protect you. Here’s what we do: we set up a scenario in which some poor helpless child needs rescuing, because although we know Launchpad sometimes needs help with things, he’d never let anyone he cares about get hurt.”

“Yeah, who…” said Huey.

Dewey stood up and stabbed a finger into the canvas. “And I shall be your damsel in dew-stress!”

***

Launchpad flung the bus door open. “Aw man, LP. What are you doing?” He’d fallen asleep. Outside, the rain had lifted and the morning was wet and cold. “You can’t tell your Woodchucks they gotta sleep out in nature when you spend the night on the nice warm bus.”

He crammed his hat back on his head and jogged back down to the campsite. He slipped in the wet leaves and slid down a short section of the path, which resulted in a rather painful stop courtesy of a medium sized boulder, but at least it bought him a couple extra seconds.

Launchpad skidded into the campsite. It was quiet, too quiet. In his absence, Violet and Huey should have been awake and setting up a campfire for breakfast. But, maybe, he’d avoided the embarrassment of getting caught.

A tent flap opened and Jack emerged, rubbing blearily at his eyes.

Launchpad grabbed up a piece of firewood, then just pulled himself up short of pegging it into the firepit. He didn’t need to pretend to set up the fire.

“Well, there you are,” Jack grumbled. “When you said you wanted me to help I didn’t realise you were going to dump the kids on me for the entire night!”

Even with the realisation he didn’t need to look busy for Jack the man’s words made Launchpad’s heart sink. He’d messed up. He’d ditched his Woodchucks and even though an adult had been there to look after them… he’d left them alone with Jack Russell.

“Where are the kids anyway?” Launchpad lifted the flap to Huey and Dewey’s tent. Empty. Great. At least they knew how to take care of themselves. Nothing would be wrong. This was just something else for Jack to put in his report.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” said Jack. “I was up half the night telling kids to walk themselves to the toilet. And… where is my hat?”

Launchpad spotted it, swinging high up on a tree branch above Jack’s tent. “I think it fell into a tree.”

Huey exploded into the camp. “Launchpad! We went to get firewood… Dewey’s stuck on the bridge over the river!”

Launchpad’s heart caught. “Oh no, Dewey!”

“Wait, stuck on a bridge how?” said Jack. “Shouldn’t you just… go and unstick him?”

“He’s… really stuck,” said Huey, “Launchpad needs to come pull him out because, you know, he’s strong and a good Woodchuck leader, so…”

The other Woodchucks emerged from their tents, rubbing blearily at eyes, wondering what all the ruckus was about. Launchpad gulped. This was all he needed with Jack here. And then he felt bad, because this was about Dewey, not his assessment. He hadn’t been very nice to him on the bus last night. If he’d got hurt or got himself in trouble after how Launchpad had treated him, he’d feel terrible. At least being stuck on a bridge didn’t sound that bad. In fact, he did wonder why Huey hadn’t just pulled his brother off himself.

“Because he’s a good…” Jack slapped a hand to his forehead. “Launchpad, your damn kids are setting you up.”

“Just be quiet, my best friend needs me. Come on Woodchucks, to the river!”

Usually, it took a bit of coaxing to get them moving but they responded immediately. They all followed Huey, Jack trailing behind them and grumbling all the way.

The river was flowing fast after the rain last night and the roar made Launchpad’s guts tighten. This far down from the swimming hole the river cut through a gully with a rope bridge strung across, the water surging and gurgling beneath. Dewey was halfway across the bridge, his leg tangled in a loose rope, his top half hanging upside down from the bridge with his hands swinging. “Oh, help. I have fallen and my foot is stuck. I cannot get up.” At least he didn’t sound particularly panicked.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jack.

“Hang on, Dewey. I’m coming to get you.” Launchpad put a hand on the wooden stake that anchored the bridge.

“Wait.” Jack grabbed Launchpad’s sleeve.

Launchpad yanked his arm back, but slowed.

“Send these two out after them. They’re half your weight put together and their two pairs of hands will probably get that… classic example of a Woodchuck knot around that poor kid’s ankle undone a lot quicker.”

“That’s… a good idea,” said Launchpad, although the rope bridge looked sturdy and wouldn’t be in any danger of snapping under his weight.

Violet and Huey both exchanged glances. “It would be better if Launchpad did it,” said Huey, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Yeah, just as I thought. You cannot control these kids, Launchpad. You should’ve seen the antics they were getting up to last night. Pretty sure they’ve set this whole thing up to try and make you look good.”

“But I’m really stuck… urgh, forget it!” Dewey rolled himself back onto the bridge and tugged at the knot around his ankle.

Wait, he wasn’t really stuck? Oh. It finally sunk in. Launchpad turned to Violet and Huey as his chest tightened. “You two… set me up?”

“Stage 2 Competent Leader Protocols weren’t enough. We went to stage 3. Dewey’s idea… but yes,” Violet mumbled into her chest.

Launchpad squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “Dewey, come on, get off the bridge, its dangerous out there.”

“I’m fine. I just need to get this knot off… hang on…”

“And you two…” His two most senior Woodchucks looked at their feet. And though it hurt they’d pulled one over on him, Launchpad knew they’d only been trying to help. He swallowed, and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to set up something like this to help me, okay? I really thought Dewey was in trouble.”

“But it wasn’t just for you!” Huey burst out. “It was for all the Woodchucks. If they make you quit then no one will want us and we’ll have no more Woodchucks, and I… I can’t live without Woodchucks!” He fell to his knees and put his face in his hands.

“I too would find it quite devastating,” said Violet.

“Wait, who told you that?”

“I did, genius,” Jack snorted. “Along with a few other truths while you were pouting on the bus.”

Launchpad’s fists bunched at his sides. He’d left his Woodchucks alone with Jack. What had he been thinking? “Like what?”

“I explained how failure badges are supposed to work. Apparently you’ve been flashing yours around like some kind of trophy and giving these kids the wrong idea. Just like you did as a kid. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to get you to understand, I never could get the concept through your thick head.”

“Don’t speak to me like that. And how dare you make these kids feel like they should be ashamed of…”

“It’s not about shame! It’s about reality, and realistic expectations, and not setting these kids up for failure. I don’t know how you fluked your way through to a leadership role Launchpad, but when the cards come down you’re just going to get somebody killed! You know, like you did Calvin. At least then you were a kid; you had an excuse. Not anymore.”

Launchpad’s chest heaved, but this time he didn’t feel like running. “You have no idea, do you? We only went down to the river that night because we had something to prove. If you’d encouraged us instead of bullying us in front of the other kids, just because we failed a couple times, we would’ve waited until we had a chance to try for the badge again. We were kids, it was the only way we thought we could get you to stop. But it was never what were were good at or not, it was always you. You were in charge, Jack. You had the power. And you just used it to make us fell like we were never good enough no matter what we did!”

“Wait, Calvin… he was the kid who drowned?” said Huey tentatively.

Launchpad swallowed hard. “Yeah. He jumped in trying to save me.”

“Oh, Launchpad,” said Dewey. “That’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“I’m… I’m going to give you a hug.” Dewey picked himself up and rushed back, but tripped as the still tied knot brought him up short. He smacked face first onto the bridge, sending it swinging wildly, then rolled right off the edge.

Launchpad’s heart caught. “Dewey!”

The rope jerked taut and Dewey swung by his ankle above the roaring water below. “Oh, um, now I really do need help?”

Launchpad rushed out onto the bridge. He grabbed at the rope and started hauling it up arm over arm.

“LP, I’m really sorry,” said Dewey as he was slowly raised. “We didn’t think this out at all. I should’ve got stuck up a tree or something.”

Launchpad gritted his teeth and hauled on the rope faster. “Heh. Don’t worry about that, buddy. No harm done.” Come on. Come on. Because despite Dewey’s calm, Launchpad could see the knot he’d been picking at slowly start to unravel.

“Woah, maybe slow down? I’m getting dizzy.”

Huey and Violet must have seen it too. They rushed out onto the bridge and leaned through the ropes, reaching out for Dewey as he neared.

A frown creased Dewey’s beak. “Seriously guys, I’m fine…”

Launchpad yanked up another loop of rope and swiped at Dewey’s ankle. The bridge bucked, and the rope slipped free. Dewey’s eyes widened, arm outstretched, then his back smashed into the water beneath and he disappeared. He was gone for a split second, then he resurfaced. “It’s okay… can… swim…” He choked off as a slosh of water slapped in the face and went down his throat, and then the current pulled him away.

Launchpad’s hands tightened on the bridge. No. Not this time. He slid under the rope.

“Launchpad, you idiot!” Jack yelled. “You’re not going to be able to…”

The rest of his words were lost as Launchpad slammed into the water below. The shock of cold bit at him. The current snatched at him. Yeah. Far stronger than it looked. There was no way he was letting Dewey brave this alone. He spluttered, and surfaced.

“Launchpad! Violet and I are going to get a rope down steam. You got to get out before the waterfall.”

Of course there was a waterfall. Launchpad saw a flash of blue ahead and struck out with strong strokes, not so much moving himself through the water, but keeping his head above it as the current propelled him along.

Jack was right; there wasn’t a swimming badge on Launchpad’s sash. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to swim. Six months after everything had happened with Calvin, and after he’d convinced his parents he did in fact want to return to Woodchucks now Mr Russell was gone, he’d earned it. He could still remember Ms H, who was much nicer than Mr Russell, congratulating him and pressing the badge into his palm.

He’d stared at the embroidered circled as tears filled his eyes. “I… I don’t deserve this.”

She’d got down on her knees and put her hands on his trembling shoulders. “Sweetheart, its okay. I get it. You don’t have to put it on if you don’t want to. The badge isn’t the important bit. You’ve still got the skill, and as long as you know that’s there whenever you might need it you don’t have to prove that to anyone else.”

Launchpad choked as a wash of water slapped into his face. Keeping his head above water became harder and harder as the current picked up. He spotted his friend ahead, clinging desperately to a rock. This close to the waterfall, roaring clearly ahead of them now, the water snatched at Dewey and he whimpered as his fingers slipped across the rough surface. Launchpad let a really vicious snarl of water grab him and hurl him towards the rock. He grunted as his shoulder slammed into it and pulled Dewey into his chest just as the boy’s numb fingers lost their grip.

“LP…” Dewey immediately grappled for Launchpad, his fingers digging like claws into his neck.

Launchpad spluttered as he was shoved under. He heaved himself up out of the water with one arm on the rock, and clutched Dewey to his chest with the other. He hauled them both up high enough they were no longer in danger of getting dunked and the force of the water wasn’t strong enough to pull him away. “It’s… it’s okay… I got ya.”

Dewey’s breath came in spluttering gasps. “Sorry… I… trying to make you look good…”

“I know.”

“It’s cold.”

Launchpad started to shiver as the ice water bit into his skin. “Hey, Violet and Huey are working on it. They’re going to get us out. Probably use maths or something. They seem to be good at that.”

“LP, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you… I didn’t know about your friend…” Dewey sniffed, and pressed his face against Launchpad’s neck.

“Right now I’m only thinking about you.”

A rope, attached to a short fat log, sailed out over them and hit Launchpad in the back. He grabbed it.

“Tie it to Dewey!” Huey yelled from the bank.

Launchpad untied the rope and looped it about Dewey’s waist. “You’re not going to drown,” he said, looking his friend right in the eye as his fingers automatically tied the knots he’d done a million times. “I won’t let that happen.”

“LP, look out!” Huey shouted.

A log spun down the river towards them. Launchpad jerked the knot tight about Dewey’s waist, then shoved him off towards the bank. He pushed his friend clear of the log, but it collected Launchpad across the middle, swept him off the rock, and dragged him under. The quickening torrent grabbed him, and suddenly Launchpad was back in the hell of breathless tumbling terror he’d found himself in as a child.

But at least he’d got Dewey out.

***

A long way below the waterfall, Launchpad pulled himself up onto the bank and heaved out a stomach-full of water. Clear of the torrent he gulped deep breaths, his head resting against his forearms, too heavy to lift.

It had taken every ounce of his strength to reach the bank. His body trembled with cold and exertion. He’d been tossed at the whim of the current, slammed into anything and everything. Even as an adult, as strong as he was, it had been terrifying. He’d thought there was no way he’d be able to save himself, right up until he’d felt the pebbles of the shore beneath his feet. He hadn’t drowned. But all he could think was how much scarier that ordeal would be for a child. How scary had it been for Calvin to fight to save himself in the darkness, and fail? Launchpad shuddered, and as he finally caught his breath his gulps for air became sobs.

“LP!” Huey skidded to his knees at his side. “Thank goodness, you scared us. Are you okay?”

“Dewey?” Was all he had the breath to say.

“It’s okay. We got him out.”

Launchpad whimpered and let his head drop back against his arms.

The pebbles crunched around him as the rest of his Woodchucks caught up with Huey. Launchpad felt small hands squeeze his arms and press against his back.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Huey. “Violet and I have everything under control. She’s called for help, and… all you gotta do is catch your breath.”

Chapter 5

[fullmetaldevil-blog]

A Devil Can Be Cupid Too

Valentines rolled around and both Henry and Tom are trying to figure out what to do for their wives after the events of the studio. Two little demons decide to help their respective dads out.

This one actually have drawings mixed in so I hope you all enjoy.

On with the show~

Tom paced to and fro around the house, worry written all over the man's face, he had the look of contemplating his entire life's decisions in a single moment. He paused his wearing a groove in the floor to glance up at the calendar then resumed his pacing at a faster rate. The calendar served as a grim reminder that it was Valentine's day, a day for couples to show one another how much they love each other. Tom never really gave the holiday much thought since he felt that love is something you show someone year round, which he always did little things to show Allison how much he cared for her. Despite them having been married for so long, it was that being trapped in the studio for 30 years. That meant 30 years without being able to show someone how much you love someone without fear for your life.

It would be the first Valentines spent together after the studio and Tom wanted to make it special, but being out of touch with the new trends he had no clue where to start. He thought he could get some ideas from his coworkers at his construction job but all he heard were over priced lavish gifts and dinners, things he never really did even before he was trapped at the studio. He needed to do at least something, but what?

Tom thoughts were ground to a halt when he heard the door bell ring. He opened up the door and was greeted by Benny and the care giver at the nearby nursing home Janice.

"Morning Mr. Conner" The woman smiled at him. " I brought him home, safe and sound."

Benny beamed up at Tom holding a few bags and a wore backpack on his back. "Morning Tom!" The toon happily chirped.

Tom smiled at Janice "Thanks for bringing him home safely." He waved for Benny to come inside, which the toon happily ran inside. Tom chuckled and turned to face Janice.

"You're welcome, he's always welcome at the home. The ladies had themselves a grand old time with one of their grands" Janice hugged the man briefly before she spun on her heel and strode down the walkway to the street heading home.

Tom waved good-bye before closing the door to look down the hallway where Benny had run off to, the toon already heading to his room to put his things away. He nearly forgot that Benny was spending the weekend at the elderly home with the Grandmas, the only reminder that he was gone was the unusual quiet in the house hold. Something that Tom admittedly didn't like, he had grown fond of the bustling noises of the toon. The man chuckled to himself and strode down the hall to check up on Benny and to see how his weekend had gone with the ladies.

He came to the doorway to see Benny pulling out small rolls of fabric and placing them in his storage dresser along with wire and threads. Tom chuckled 'judging from the look of things it looked like the ladies had him helping them with their craft projects' he thought to himself as he observed Benny unpacking. Tom gently rapped his knuckles on the doorway letting the devildoll know he was there.

"Hi Tom." Benny turned his head to look up at him, flashing his trademark grin.

"How'd your weekend go?" Tom slowly walked into the room and sat down on the chair at Benny's desk facing him.

"Well it started out kinda scary." Benny fiddled with the contents of his bag not looking Tom in the eye, concern all over his face.

This got Tom's attention and he raised a brow. "Scary how?" He leaned down to be near eye level with the toon.

"Well the first night when I was sleeping in the living room I was woken by some strange noises coming from the backyard. I got up to check it out, and there were two strange adults climbing the wall into the area by the pool. They were wearing black and were prowling around the yard." Benny looked up at Tom "Then they moved out of the pool area to the side of the house and they looked like they were trying to open up Grandma Louise's window. I didn't know who they were so I..." He looked back down and wrung his gloved hands nervously.

Tom held a gentle tone and rest a hand on Benny's shoulder. "What did you do?"

"I was scared so I kinda went rag-doll form and used my threads to ensnare them and hung them upside down. I made sure they couldn't escape and went to go wake Janice up, but I accidentally scared her doing so. I guess she never saw my other form, but I told her about the two people I caught and she called the police. They came a short time after she called and then they took them away."

Tom grinned ear to ear "You did good considering the situation." He patted Benny between the horns getting a small purr.

"Even if Janice told me play with the two people first before the cops showed up? She told me to pretend to eat one with my second mouth and they screamed a lot. The guy I had screamed really high pitched and for a second I thought I was holding a woman, but then his eyes rolled back and he passed out. The other guy soiled himself then passed out." Benny rocked on his heel looking nervous.

Tom went wide eyed at Benny's story and mumbled to himself. "For how sweet Janice is, she has a sadistic streak a mile long". He ruffled his fingers through Benny's horns getting a pleased purr from the devildoll. "Well despite all that happened, did you have fun?"

"Yep!" Benny piped up all grins "The Grandma's taught me how to make blooming silk flowers." Benny reached into his bag, and pulled out a single white silk rose bud. He reached towards the stem of the flower and pulled on a string, Tom watched as the flower went from a little bud to a fully bloomed rose in a few seconds.

"Oh wow!" Tom held out his hand so he could see the rose and Benny happily handed it over. Tom carefully examined the rose in his hand, turning it over very carefully. "How do you close it?"

Benny took the rose from Tom "Like this" he pushed up on a small stick in the base the the rose folded back up into a bud.

Tom watched with awe and admiration, Benny had a real talent for making little crafts. Then again he was a living doll, he knows how to repair himself if he gets damaged, and if he didn't know how to make small crafts it would be a shock. Tom's eyes soon lit up in realization. "Hey Benny you know how to make the roses right?" Benny nodded and tilted his head wondering where Tom was going with his question. "See there is a holiday called Valentines day and that's today, and I was wondering if you could show me how to make some roses. If that's ok with you."

Benny was overjoyed at the thought of the two of them doing something together. "Certainly!" Benny paused in his excitement and frowned. "But I don't have anymore material to make the roses."

A grin swept across Tom's face "No worries. We'll go out, just you and I, to get the materials needed." Toms answer was immediate as Benny happily clung to the mans pant leg making happy squeaky toy noises. "First get dressed so we can go."

"Yay!" Benny hopped off the mans leg and darted to his walk in closet to rummage around for a coat and hat. While Benny was busy in his closet Tom carefully examined the rose to get an idea as to where he should go to get the material. "I'm ready!" Benny's voice broke Tom out of his investigation.

"All right, lets go”. Tom gestured towards his leg.

Benny clung happily to Tom's leg making the mechanic laugh. The toon was always clinging to Allison and it took a lot of talking and persuading to get Benny to go with the man alone. Tom couldn't lie that Benny gave him the cold shoulder at the start of living together hurt, but now their relationship was repaired. The toon was now over zealous when it came to doing things with Tom, and he couldn't be happier. He had a small friend and son that liked to work with his hands as much as he did.

Tom walked to his room with the plushdemon koala on his leg and grabbed his coat and car keys. Once he got out to his car he helped Benny in and made sure he was buckled up before getting in himself and started the car. Benny eagerly chatted the entire trip about how to make the silk flowers, he only stopped talking to watch Tom shout at a vehicle that cut him off then crawled at a snails pace. Tom did his best to curb is swearing since Benny had a nasty habit of repeating anything foul he said to Allison later. He was tired of his wallet constantly being emptied into the swear jar she implemented.

Tom pulled into the parking lot for the town center right next to the art store. The lot was pretty full and had many lovers and potential suitors scrambling to get last minute displays of affection for their significant others. He thought he spotted a familiar SUV but shrugged it off and helped Benny out of the car.

Benny's eyes were lit with excitement at all the art supplies and fabric. Tom chuckled at the eagerness of the plushdevil, but made sure Benny didn't stray from him. Tom grabbed a basket and held Benny's hand and they slowly went up and down the isles. Benny would gently tug at Tom's hand leading the mechanic around the store and grab and occasional item and explain what it was for. With all the necessary items gathered Benny asked if he could look at a different section for 'little bonus touches'.

Benny stepped off to look at the embroidery beads for a moment when something the same size as him tackled him. Benny squeaked in surprise but soon pushed back against his assailant. "Bendy, you jerk! Where'd you come from?!"

Tom turned to see Bendy whom he was not expecting to be there at all, had tackle hugged Benny whom was spooked at the encounter. The ink demon laughed as his plushdemon counterpart pushed him off and socked him on the shoulder pouting.

"Bendy?! There you are!"

Bendy flinched at hearing the clearly winded voice. Tom turned to see the voice belonged to a worn out Henry just barely catching up to his energetic demon, the animator also sporting a basket full of art materials.

"Hey didn't think to see you here." Tom called out to the animator who got Bendy by the scruff of his sweater and held him there.

"Hi Thomas, and Bendy what did I tell you about running off?" Henry looked down at his toon companion whom was now looking remorseful in his creators grasp.

"Sorry Henry, but when I saw Benny I had t' say Hi" the toon mumbled out while he wrung his gloved hands.

Henry sighed and knelt down to look at Bendy eye to eye. "Look I'm not mad, but I was worried. This is a big store and you're pretty small, I don't want to lose you. You could have easily told me Benny and Tom were here, and I would have happily helped you look for them together. So next time you have to tell me. Ok?"

Benny nodded "ok"

Henry smiled before ruffling his fingers between Bendy's horn and stood back up "Hey Tom, what brings you here?" The older animator turned to face his old friend.

"Came to get some materials to make some flowers for Valentines. It's been awhile so trying to get back to the swing of things." Tom scratched the back of his head in embarrassment "and yourself?"

Henry chuckled "Same as you, except Bendy and I were gonna draw something together for Linda. We ran out of ink so we needed to stock up."

Tom snorted at Henry's story "Henry how do you run out of ink when you have Bendy? The toon is a walking inkwell and doesn't seem to ever run out."

Henry laughed "True, but I don't want to treat Bendy like an art supply for his ink when I can simply go to a store and get some. Besides I'm getting colored ink, not just black."

Both men laughed and started sharing Valentine ideas while two little demons were having conversations of their own.

"So you're tellin' me you an' Tom are gonna make some flowers for Valentines?" Bendy tilted his head at Benny's explanation. "An' they can open up?"

"Yep! Tom said he wanted to make some, but he doesn't know how, so he asked me if I could show him." Benny beamed at the thought. "What are you and Henry doing?"

Bendy flashed Benny his classic grin "We are gonna draw somethin' together for Linda. Then she and Henry are gonna have dinner and a movie together".

Benny tilted his head "Wait, you're not gonna be there? It's just gonna be Henry and Linda?"

Bendy stopped his smiling when the realization dawned on him. Valentines is for couples and both he and Benny would be left out of the activities. "Well... Valentine's is for couples and you and I have no one." Bendy's voice trailed as he pondered what to do.

"Well you are the dancing demon, so why don't you have them dance with you or something so you're not left out." Benny offered.

Bendy snapped his fingers "That's it! While they are having dinner I can dance around them showering them with paper hearts! I'll help Henry show Linda how much he loves her, if he has hearts around him I'm sure it'll work, after all it worked in the cartoon shorts." His grin returned brighter then ever with a hint of mischief mixed in.

"Yeah and you can be dressed like that guy" Benny pointed at a drawing of cupid.

Bendy looked up at the cherub with the hearts and then back at Benny "what are you gonna do then?" This caught Benny by surprise and he tilted his head from side to side trying to think of what he can do. Bendy's voice brought him out of his thoughts "what's in your hammerspace? Maybe something in there can help."

"Well I have a sewing kit, some fabric, cotton, a violin and a banjo, but that's about it." Benny looked back at his counterpart.

Bendy's eyes lit with excitement "you can sing right?" Earning a nod from Benny. "Then serenade them while Tom is trying to give the roses to Allison, after all wouldn't that be why he's asking you how to make them?"

Realization dawned on Benny. Tom wanted to give Allison a gift of affection in the form of flowers that they will make together. So what better way to help them then by setting 'the mood' as he saw on T.V. Both demons giggled at the ideas and ran up to their respective dads.

"Tom can I go with Bendy for a minute? We would like to get a few things."

"Henry can I go with Benny for a bit? We're gonna go grab some stuff."

Both Tom and Henry looked at each other in confusion before they both agreed, but under the condition that Benny and Bendy stick together. Both demon's eagerly agreed and took off leaving the confused men behind whom resumed chatting.

Bendy and Benny eagerly ran to isle after isle to look at fabric and paper, each snickering about what they were gonna do. Some of the other patrons of the store moved away from the mischievous demons concerned about the constant chuckling escaping from the pair. With their respective objects of interest Benny and Bendy ran to the register to purchase their items. They were both thankful of their pocket money earnings from their respective families and made their purchases. Benny ducked out of sight and hid his purchase inside his hammerspace while Bendy hid his under his sweater. Both returned to their fathers each wearing a large grin as they greeted the chatting men.

"Got every thing?" Henry broke away from his conversation with Tom to look at Bendy who beamed up at the man.

"Yeup!"

"And you?" Tom looked at Benny who was also grinning up at him.

"Yep!"

"Well I guess we got to get going." Henry scratched the back of his head as he looked at Tom. "We'll catch up later."

"Yeah right behind ya. I think we got all that we needed." Tom held his hand out which was met with Henry's as the two gave a brief parting hug before turning their separate ways.

"Let me know how it goes!" Benny shouted down the hall at Bendy as he was being lead out the store.

"I will!" Bendy spun around shouting in turn.

Tom lifted a brow at the exchange between the two devils. He knew full well that if Benny and Bendy were doing something together the outcome can't be good. "Alright Benny, what was that about?" The man lifting a brow at the toon now holding onto his hand.

"Nothing". The little devildoll wore a huge grin nearly splitting his face.

Tom's brow lifted even higher, but decided to let it go. As long as he wasn't on the receiving end of the two demon's game then he was fine with that. He took Benny's grabbing his hand as a sign that they were done with the store and had gotten all that they needed. He went to the register and paid for their things then headed to the car to return home. Benny all the while hummed to himself with his head bouncing to the beat in his mind.

The duo returned to the house to find Allison had returned home before them and asked where they went. Tom told her that he and Benny went to the park which got a look of confusion from the devildoll, but was waved behind the panicking mechanic so Allison wouldn't catch on to Benny's confusion and ruin Tom's lie. Tom hastily scooped Benny up and set him in his room while he retreated to his room to make a phone call. Allison was about to enter Benny's room to talk to him when the phone ringing caught her attention. To Allison's surprise it was the care giver Janice asking her if she could help out at the home since the grandma's have been busy and wanted company. Allison happily agreed, but told her that the ladies would have to wait a minute so she could feed her family first before leaving.

Allison retreated to the bedroom to find Tom relaxing on the bed and was involved with a book. She told him about the request for assistance at the home and that she would go after she made lunch for them, but Tom encouraged her to go anyways telling her that he can handle feeding himself and Benny and that she needed to focus on the 'energetic old ladies'.

Allison grabbed a coat and kissed Tom good bye before she stopped at the living room where Benny had relocated, telling the toon where she was going. Benny happily wished her luck and to tell the ladies 'hi' for him and Allison strode out the door and down the street. Upon hearing the door close, Tom sprang from his bed and ran down the hall to the front door past Benny and peered from behind a curtain to make absolutely sure Allison was gone.

"Good, the coast is clear" Tom grinned as he released the curtain and turned to see Benny standing behind him confused.

"What do you mean the coast is clear?" He tilted his head.

"Oh I called Janice and begged her if she could have Allison come over to help her out for awhile, so you and I can make the roses." Tom gave Benny a mischievous grin.

Benny's eyes lit in realization, Bendy hit the nail on the head about Tom trying to give Allison a gift for Valentine's day. As a little devil, it was his job to make sure things go right. Benny puffed out his chest a little in pride before going to his room to grab all the necessary materials. He will make sure Tom's plan succeeded.

Benny returned to the living room with two bags in hand "Tom" catching the mans attention "ready?" He held up the bags for Tom to see. His answer was a nod and Tom lifted him up to head to the kitchen, setting him down at the table while Tom sat next to him.

Benny pulled out the thin fabric and wire explaining what needed to be done, all the while Tom listened intently. Every cut, fold and stitch Benny did Tom was right behind him, although a bit awkward since Tom had never really sewn before. The man would occasionally stumble over the delicate craft for which Benny gladly stopped what he was doing to help him. The two happily chatted while they worked and after an 3 hours of cutting, sewing and threading each individual held up a silk rose to the light admiring their work.

Benny chose a soft blue that faded to a much darker blue. Tom told him it wasn't a real color for roses, but the toon didn't care. It was a color scheme he wanted regardless if it were real or not, it reminded him of the late evening sky just as the the first few stars would appear. Tom chose a pink that faded to a lush red. He wanted something that looked like a warm afternoon in comparison Benny's cool evening colors. His rose was a bit awkward in small spots where he made a mistake or pulled on fabric too hard, but Benny was right there to help repair the mistake. Both man and toon looked at each other, both wearing a grin that matched the other.

----- At Henry's house-----

Henry and Bendy both sat at the table gingerly working on the shared drawing between the two of them. The picture was drawn like a portrait with Henry, Linda and Bendy all together in a field of Linda's favorite flower; Lavender. Henry had done the sketch and was coloring Bendy and the field, while Bendy worked on coloring in Henry, Linda and the sunset. More ways then one Henry was thankful Bendy had the ability to manipulate ink and the two were surrounded by droplets of colored ink floating in the air, each would occasionally dip their pen or brush into the floating orbs. For every stroke of the pen done by Henry, Bendy was right behind him. The toon's drawing skills nearly on par with Henry's which to the former animator made it all the better, he now had an inseparable friend, family member and fellow artist.

Henry knew how much he loved and appreciated his wife, especially after what was supposed to be a short trip to the studio. When he came home with a exhausted and injured Bendy in his arms and explained what happened he feared Linda would run from Bendy, but she had the opposite reaction. Wary at first, but she cared for the toon whole heartedly and stayed by his side to help him recover. She spent many sleepless nights in the toon's room caring for his injuries or calming him down after a nightmare.

Bendy never forgot Linda's kindness and treatment of his injuries. He was convinced that no one cared for him, even his creator. He was shocked that Henry loved him despite his actions at the studio, and more so that Henry's wife Linda loved him as well. He never expected to be brought home with his creator and to be shown such love and care. He begged Henry asking him if he could help him with his drawing. He wanted to help give Linda something nice too as a way of showing how much he appreciated her care.

After spending a good chunk of the day drawing Henry held up the finished picture for both he and Bendy to see. Both grinned at each other, their work here was done.

------ Later That Evening At The Connor's-----

Allison came home to find the house was dark and no sign of her husband or Benny, despite Tom's car parked in the front. She was about to call out in the house when she spied a single red cord that led further into the home. She carefully picked up the cord like thread realizing it was one of Benny's ink threads he creates when he is defending himself, but she questioned why was it red? Benny's threads were always black as the night and he rarely used them outside the studio.

"Tom!? Benny!?" Allison listened intently, but, no answer. Her heart raced at the lack of noise and with thread in hand she traced it carefully following it's trail. She could only hope that something hadn't gone terribly wrong in her absence.

Allison followed the thread as it wound throughout the house being joined by several more which confused her since they were now sporting shades of pink and the occasional white. She could only take it as a sign she was at least getting closer to Benny, and hopefully her husband. The multicolored threads lead out the patio door where there appeared to be a light coming from the side of the house. Allison rounded the corner and was stunned by the sight before her.

Threads were everywhere making a strange red, white and pink cocoon like structure with silk flowers tied in as decoration. In the middle of the threaded structure sat a table with dinner and Tom who was fidgeting in his seat. As soon as he saw Allison he immediately got up from his seat.

"Happy Valentine's day honey." Tom nervously grinned at Allison.

Allison had to stifle a laugh at Tom. He was so out of his element since elaborate wasn't his middle name and was more used to practical displays of affection. She couldn't help but smile at him. Tom was trying to make the holiday special, but Benny playing music on his violin was by no sense of the word helping him. The toon completely oblivious to his dads discomfort, but Allison had to give Benny credit. He was trying to help.

Tom led Allison to the prepared dinner and she was pleasantly surprised by the salmon steaks served with a side of steamed vegetables accompanied by a small glass of wine.

"The dinner looks lovely. Thank you." Allison leaned into Tom before he pulled out her chair for her to take a seat.

They enjoyed dinner while Benny played one soft tune to the next and when Benny spied Tom reaching for the present he started singing "That's Amore" by Dean Martin and switched to his banjo. Tom fumbled the present when he tried to set it on the table turning to face his little 'song bird' with a scowl who didn't even seem to notice what was going on and kept singing.

Well this was the straw that broke the camels back. Allison laughed whole heartedly at the scene before her. Tom was completely red faced from a mix of frustration and embarrassment while glaring at Benny who was happily swaying and singing the amusing love song. Her laughter broke Tom out of glaring at his little helper and he turned to face her completely shocked by the turn of events.

"Thank you. This has been the best Valentine's in a long time." Allison leaned over and kissed Tom stunning the man. When she broke the kiss she picked up the present and opened it to reveal the two budded roses. Her eyes were wide in awe and she carefully lifted roses out to examine them.

Benny had finished his song putting his banjo away and walked up to her. "Pull on the string" he pointed at the base if the rose.

Allison turned the rose in her hand to look at where he was pointing and saw the small cords hanging out of the roses. She held the rose stems firmly in one hand and gently pulled on the cords opening the roses from a bud to a full bloom. Each rose had tiny embroidery beads laced on the petals that sparkled like stars. Allison was absolutely shocked at the simple beauty of them and she reached out gently grabbing Tom and Benny pulling both into a hug. "I love them. Thank you so much"

Tom returned the hug resting his head atop hers. Both felt something wrap around them both and they looked up to see Benny in his rag-doll form purring while he laid his head between theirs. The couple chuckled and each if them rest a cheek against Benny's hugging the toon in turn.

Tom had to admit while this wasn't exactly his plan for the holiday, everything worked out in the end and he couldn't be happier.

------ Later That Evening-------

Allison heard the phone ringing and answered it, she chuckled at the caller and clapped her hand over the mouth piece. "Tom, phone for you!"

Tom grumbled, but got up from the couch gently scooting a sleeping Benny off him and retreated to the kitchen to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, its Henry" The animators voice sounded tired.

Tom leaned against the wall "Hey you alright? You sound tired."

He heard a small chuckle and a sigh "Tired is one word, exasperated is another."

"That good huh?" Tom chuckled. He had a feeling he was gonna be in for a good one. He leaned himself against the wall to get comfortable.

"Well here is what happened" Henry's voice trailed off as he began his story.

--- Earlier In The Evening At Henry's House---

Henry had just finished setting up the table with the steaks he grilled earlier and he had yet to see any sign of Bendy. Linda sat in the living room reading while Henry manned the kitchen to give her a break from cooking for which she told him he didn't have to, but he insisted. He wanted it to be a special day for her and he was no stranger to the kitchen. He finished setting up and wandered to the living room to let her know dinner was ready when Bendy finally came out if his room bearing the present Henry had him hang onto.

Bendy watched Henry and got a small nod from his creator and walked up to Linda holding out the flat box. "Happy Valentine's day Linda."

The older brunette woman smiled at Bendy with warm green eyes. "Thank you Bendy." she reached out and took the present from the happy toon who rocked on his heel while he watched her look at the tag reading 'To Linda, from Henry and Bendy'. "Henry and I did it together." the toon beamed up at her.

Henry walked over to her side to better watch her reaction to the gift and was by no sense of the word disappointed. Linda's eyes lit up in joy at the beautiful ink painting before her. The vibrant purples and oranges of the sunset filled the page and what really drew a smile from her was the image if all three of them sitting as a family amongst the flowers. It was a simple drawing but it radiated with warmth and care that went into creating it.

Linda reach up and kissed Henry and then pulled Bendy in for a hug. "Thank you boys." She couldn't have been happier, a home made gift is the best kind of gift. It shows the dedication and appreciation the person has within a home made gift. At that moment it showed how much Henry and Bendy both loved her. It was better then anything that could ever be bought with money.

"C'mon dinners ready." Henry gestured towards the kitchen. Linda gladly took his hand after setting the painting down and followed her husband into the kitchen. Both sat down and were enjoying the peaceful dinner, that is until Bendy came in.

The little ink demon set several bottles of colored ink all around the room while the couple continued chatting away. Henry watched Bendy out of the corner of his eye wondering what the devil was up to. "Hey bud, what are you up to?" Henry's curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh just this." Bendy turned and flashed a cheeky grin. The demon threw his arms up into the air and ink floated out of the bottles. Bendy turned on the faucet and had the ink bubbles disappear into the water only to float back out far bigger and resembled large glass beads. He made the ink bubbles divide and collide as they floated around, some even passed under the the kitchen light occasionally changing the color of the room. It was a beautiful spectacle of color making both Henry and Linda lean back in their chairs in awe.

Henry's admiration didn't last long until he heard "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller being played on the record player and Bendy came back to the table now sporting paper angel wings, a pink tutu and was holding a gaudy pink basket full of small objects. His heart dropped in realization at what the demon was about to do.

Bendy tap danced to the beat of the song all around Henry showering him with paper hearts. Henry buried his red face in his hands to feebly hide his embarrassment. He wished to be a million miles away and not having one of the most embarrassing moments of his life unfold in front of him and not have anyway to stop it. The minute Bendy had appeared in the get-up he knew what was going to happen. It was one thing in a cartoon that he was animating to please someone else with the funny gesture, not when he himself was the recipient of the gag.

Linda covered her mouth to stifle laughing at the misfortunes of her husband. Bendy truly thought he was helping with his usual cartoon antics. While in a cartoon such shenanigans work, but this was the real world and such behavior only resulted in embarrassment. She decided to relieve her husband of his little tap dancing cupid.

Bendy tapped danced close enough for Linda to gently grab his arm pulling him out of his dance and to her. "Bendy, do you want to join us for dinner? It's not fair if we eat without you."

"Yay!" The demon cheered at being allowed to join in.

Linda grabbed him a chair setting it between her and Henry's seat while she went to make him a plate. Bendy eagerly ditched the basket, wings and tutu sitting at the table flashing Henry a huge grin.

Henry slowly removed his hand from his face eyeing his toon. "You little devil" he ruffled his fingers through Bendy's horns getting a chuckle from the demon. He couldn't be mad at Bendy, it was his nature that he created, it was like dealing with a far younger mischievous version of himself and he couldn't fault Bendy for it. If anything he found the true nature of the demon very endearing if not embarrassing at times.

Linda came back with a plate for Bendy and the three had a lively dinner with Bendy happily explaining his adventures with Henry to Linda. After dinner they enjoyed a movie on the couch for which Bendy fell asleep half way through. The little demon was tuckered out from the days events. Henry took that opportunity to slide Bendy onto Linda's lap while he slipped into the kitchen.

Henry picked up the phone and called Tom, wondering if the mechanic had a similar day to himself. He suspected that Benny had something to do with egging Bendy on since getting both demons together yielded very amusing results. At the moment Henry was hoping he wasn't the only one subjected to toon antics and silently hoped that he had another whom shared his misery. After all misery loves company.

------ At The Connor's------

Tom listened to Henry's story and nearly choked when he laughed, he then told Henry what happened to himself and both men were wheezing at the others misfortunes. Both Benny and Bendy conspired together on what the holiday meant and both were horribly skew yet at the same time on the mark. It was their own unique way of interpreting what the holiday meant and they went above and beyond the call of duty by using their abilities to help.

Each man leaned over at their respective homes to look at their sleeping demons and chuckled at how much they hindered and helped make their Valentine's day something to remember.

[poppyknitt]

Bio-Bots- A JSE Egos Fanfic

Android!Chase AU

-Post explaining how the hell i came to make this beautiful, blessed, but also cursed au in the first place

-Canon developments in the story as of writing this

[April 11th, 2017, our time]

Schneep and Jackie knew Chase wasn’t going to make it. His head was shot clean through, and his brain was damaged badly. Even if it did heal, he’d be in so much tremendous pain that he’d probably be begging to be “put to sleep”, as they call it in the veterinarian world. They stared hopelessly at the heart monitor next to Chase’s bed, which had a relatively steady pace at the moment, but, on occasion, faltered.

“... What should be done, Jackie..? He only has a little bit of time left. You and I, we-.. we both know this.”

“... I say we work together on blueprints.”

“Blueprints? What-Whatever for?!”

“... An android, of sorts. One that works and looks totally human. It may take a few weeks, but we’ll make it happen.”

“And what would I do? You are the one with the technological know-how; I, on the other hand cannot configure even a Raspberry Pi for the life of me!”

“You’ll help me make him look human. You’ll help me pull this off. We can do this, Henrik. Nothing is holding us back. No one will have to know that he died.”

“... Alright, then. Just give me heads up, yes?”

Jackie smiled sadly, “Will do, ‘doc’.”

~~~

[April 24th, 2017, our time]

Chase woke up groggily, his head spinning as his vision flooded with blindingly bright light, and he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. The heart monitor on his left beeped steadily, and his head was wrapped in bandages.

“Chase! You- You’re awake!” A voice, similar to his, cried out in joy, and next thing he knew, he was being glomped by a man in a black cape and strangely colored cat mask.

“Wh..Who..?” He slurred, taking a moment to figure out that this was Marvin, “Oh! ...M-Marv..?”

“Yep! That... That’s my name! Don’t.. wear it out!” Marvin said, putting on the best cheerful face he could, thought, Chase knew it wasn’t sincere, even as he laughed wryly in response. He could tell that the magician was distressed greatly by his attempt to kill himself.

~~

“Okay, so, he’s gotta be good at reading people, right? I mean, come on, even if we are just doing this to prevent further heartache, then why not take a few creative liberties that chance making social interaction and stuff like that easier?”

“Is up to you, Jackie. I for one did not know him very well beforehand, so you may wind up on your own for the programming part of this.”

“M’kay. Cool. I’m gonna do it.”

~~

[April 30th, 2017, our time]

“Stacy? Hi... It’s me, Chase... I was just calling to ask when you’re gonna let me see the kids next... I really miss them... S-Sorry for bothering you... I’ll... just go now..” He sighed, and hung up the phone.

“She still being petty?” Marvin asked, his face reading nothing but slightly amused sympathy.

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Well, cheer up, pal! She’ll have to listen to ya some day!”

“Maybe...”

~~~

“Greetings, Chase. I’m Jackieboyman! But, uh, I’d prefer being called Jackie.”

“... Uh... hey..? Good to meet you!” As the android spoke, his face lit up, as if he were just registering the name, and felt like he recognized it. Or something. Either way, it seemed like a good thing that he showed recognition, because it meant that at least one of the features he’d implemented into the android was working.

Jackie grabbed his clipboard, and checked off “Name recognition” from the list.

“What is that?” Chase asked, peering over his shoulder from behind. Jackie hadn’t even noticed him move! Weird. But cool!

“Um, it’s a list of functions you’re supposed to have. I have to make sure you function like a normal human if we’re gonna get the others to believe there’s nothing wrong.”

“Oh. Is silent footsteps one of them?”

“Not intentionally, no. I think it’s a byproduct of the materials we used.”

“Cool.”

“Hey, not to change the subject or anything, but how’re your tricks for the bro average channel going so far?”

“Pretty good! I can do a triple flip now! Wanna see?”

“Heck yeah, man! That sounds epic!”

Chase grinned cheerfully, and, going a fair bit back so he didn’t risk bumping into his older brother. He jumped up several feet, backflipped, landed on one hand, and did it twice more, landing on both hands the second, and on his knees the third. Jackie watched, eyes wide in awe, and applauded him excitedly when he finished.

“Wow! That was awesome!”

“Aw, shucks, Jackieboy! You’re too kind! Too kind!” Chase grinned, bowing humorously.

~~~

[Sometime in August, 2017, our time]

“Seán... Please... I-I don’t know if you can hear me, but... please... wake up.. We need you now, more than ever...” His voice broke as he pleaded for his old friend to wake up. Between the loss of Henrik, and Jack’s coma, he didn’t know if he was gonna be able to keep it all together.

~~~

Jackie watched Chase from a ways back, his heart breaking at the sight of his youngest brother melting down by the side of their creator’s bed in the hospital. He was about to go hug him and tell him it was gonna be okay, but Marvin ran in, pushed past him, and practically glomped poor Chase. The magician was clearly upset about the loss of Henrik and Jack, but he seemed to understand that the best they could do about it right now was help each other keep it together. Chase seemed shocked by the sudden hug, but he quickly returned it, appearing to be holding back tears.

~~~~

“Hey! Jackie! Look over there!” Chase exclaimed gleefully, hoping his brother was gullible enough to fall for it.

“What? What am I looking for?” Jackie asked in confusion as he looked where Chase had pointed. Chase grinned mischievously, and ran up to him while he was distracted, grabbing the hero’s goggles and yanking them down so they covered his eyes. Jackie yelped in surprise, and scrambled to adjust the goggles so he could see, as Chase made a break for it, darting away from him as fast as he could. Jackie yelled at him, and gave chase, catching up to him quickly, and tackled him to the pavement.

“Hey! No fair! Let me go!” Chase yelped, surprised by the strength of Jackie’s grip.

Jackie grinned, and stole his hat, letting go of him as he spoke, “Fine! But you’re still gonna pay for that”, and shot up, darting off in the direction of home. Chase laughed, and ran after him, yelling for him to give his hat back.

~~~~

[October 2018, our time]

Chase clutched onto his abdomen, coughing every now and then, as a strange, orange-ish liquid oozed around his arm. He didn’t understand why his blood looked so unnatural, but he didn’t think about that, as he let himself sink into a blind rage, and ran at the foreign glitch that was attacking Marvin.

“Chase, no!” Jackie screamed at him, desperately trying to drag himself after him, but the hero collapsed, his own wounds making him too weak to hold himself up anymore. Chase’s instincts screamed at him to go back for Jackie and flee this place, but he had to save his other brothers, too. Everything he knew about biology told him he shouldn’t even be able to run right now, but he didn’t care; Obviously, he could, which meant he was the only one able to do anything right now.

He tackled the glitch to the ground, and started throwing punches at his face, glad he was able to take him by surprise, since he probably wouldn’t have been able to pull that off if he hadn’t. The Anti screamed in anger, violently throwing him off, and stood up, as Chase caught himself. The vlogger stood as well, his eyes burning with hatred.

“Chase..! You..! You’re hurt! Wh-What-?!”

“He’s an android, Marvin.” Jackie wheezed.

“W-Wh-?! S-Since when?!”

“Since April...”

“W-Who else knew?!”

“... Henrik knew. He helped me create him...“

“Where- What happened to the Chase we knew?!”

“... He didn’t survive. The day Chase woke up was really just... the day after he had died..”

Chase listened silently, his heart heavy. He’d always had an underlying suspicion that he wasn’t as human as they’d said, but he didn’t realize he wasn’t human at all. He sighed, and opened his mouth, interrupting the conversation, “Marv, take Jem and the doc, and run. Don’t go home. Just... run. Make sure you never look back, and most importantly, don’t stop running until we meet again, okay?” The order came out dry and empty, his hate-filled gaze never leaving the glitch as he spoke.

“B-But what about you and Jackie?!” Marvin yelped, eyes wide, as tears began spilling from his eyes in small streams.

“... We’ll be fine. We’re gonna fight this guy off, and then we’ll run, too. I dunno how, or where, but we’re not stay here. Our world might as well be toast.”

“Chase..” Jameson’s speech slide appeared, and Chase gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he, too, began to cry.

“Go, god damn it! Go before I do something really fucking stupid!” He sobbed, not paying any mind to the sadistic grin plastered on the glitch’s face, as his voice cracked and broke. At that, Marvin didn’t take another warning, and, as he helped Schneep up, he cast a spell. Soon enough, it was just him, Jackie, and the monster that had invaded their world.

Speaking of the damned, the glitch began laughing his mentally unstable laugh, and held up his knife, which was stained with orange, “Oh̶,̧ ḩo̧w҉ a͟do͝rable̢!́ You real̴l̷y ́t̀h̨ìnk͜ ͜they̶ ̴c͢a̕n ͠ęsc͟ap͜e̡ me f̨o̵r l҉o̡n̢g͢ ̨j̀ust ̶bec̸ausę ̷y͘o͞u ͢tol͟d́ ̸t͡he̵m to҉ r̷u͏n?! ̨Oh, ҉d͢e͏a͏r͞ ̀r͡ób̶ot̛, ̕I ͞h҉àte to ̡say ̀ít,̢ b͘u͘t́ ̡as͜ ̢s͡o͜on͠ ̢as̵ I͏’m done ͟w̵i҉th̀ ́yo҉u? I’̀m̛ g̷o͏i͡n̴g straight for ͡t͏h̀em̸!̛”

“That’s why you’re not getting a chance to do that.” Chase said, smirking a little. The Anti paused, looking utterly dumbfounded by his statement. They stood there quietly for a moment, until Chase subtly signaled to Jackie, and the hero yelled at the glitch.

“Hey, doofus! You forgetting someone?!” Jackie taunted. The glitch growled in annoyance, and turned to him. Chase took the chance his brother had given him, and used his soundless footsteps to his advantage. He sprinted at the glitch, and withing moments, he was on top of him once more, punching the ever living hell out of him once more. It took until Jackie yelled for him to stop for him to realize he’d knocked the Anti unconscious.

He got off of the demon, and ran to Jackie, picking him up in an almost-bridal style fashion, despite his brother’s adamant protesting, “Shut up, dad. You’re too weak to walk.” He joked, knowing Jackie would be embarrassed by the spontaneous new nickname.

Without looking back even once, he used a little spell Marvin had taught him a while back, and opened a portal to another world.

———————————

Help i’ve been writing this story practically nonstop for like 8-9 hours and i’m already attached to Android!ChaseSo, yep! This is basically all of the super major parts in Android!Chase’s story that I’ve made yet! Also, random note, but uh, the Anti that came in at the end was indeed Monitor (the anti from one of my other aus, if this is the first fic of mine that you’ve read), and he most definitely destroyed the universe they came from. Whether Chase & Jackie ever reunited with Marvin, JJ and Henrik is currently unconfirmed, but don’t loose hope, because I’d absolutely love to be able to expand upon their stories later on! Though, I think my favorite part of this au is Jackie and Chase’s QPR father/son dynamic-

taglist:

@antis-loyal-puppet @tiny-septic-puppet @chaoticcrimsonrose (yes i know you hate the angst but this is only like 50% angst) @rorald-spooks @septic-dr-schneep

Additional tags:

@hotcocoachia @insaneangel18-blog @aquaticember06

[artemis-entreri]

Sellswords Self-Care, Part 2 (complete version)

[[ So Tumblr ate a big chunk from my post last night. :’C I’ve deleted the original post. This should be the correct version of the story, assuming Tumblr behaves this time. ]]

"You reek!" said Jarlaxle, crinkling his nose and adopting an exaggerated expression of disgust.

"I do not." replied Artemis Entreri, standing (though it scarcely seemed possible) a tiny measure straighter than he already was.

"Perhaps you've been mired in your own filth for so long that you can no longer smell yourself."

"More likely that you douse yourself with so much perfume that you can't stand breathing in anything not similarly slathered."

Despite his complaints, the assassin allowed the mercenary to lead him down the busy city street. Jarlaxle was wearing his ridiculous human disguise again, and Entreri scowled at the dark, wavy strands that bounced against his companion's back. 

At least he's decently clad, Entreri thought to himself, and winced as his mind inevitably painted for him the selfsame scenario, but with Jarlaxle wearing only bandoliers and smallclothes again. The assassin suppressed a shudder and reflexively surveyed their surroundings, but found none of the pairs of eyes glued upon them from his imagined scenario.

Indeed, the citizens of Waterdeep were all busy tending to their own affairs. Merchants issued their final offers of unbelievable deals, couples hurried their children home, and street-lighters rushed from pole to pole. None spared more than a passing glance at the pair of "humans", even with the distinct scalawag appearance of the one in the lead. However, the handsome man was too finely-dressed and well-groomed for the self-respecting citizens to decry him as a pirate, and his companion was so nondescript that there was hardly any point to sparing the latter any attention. 

Nonetheless, Jarlaxle tipped his fabulous hat each time a wandering pair of eyes met his own, and by the time that they'd reached the bathhouse, Entreri had lost count of how many times the feather had bobbed on his companion's head. 

"I strongly wish not to do this," the assassin grumbled as the mercenary opened the door to the establishment and stepped inside.

"Fear not, my abbil, I shall be with you every heartbeat." Jarlaxle beamed as he held the door open.

"That's precisely why I fear." Entreri stepped past the threshold to find himself in a large antechamber. A large, empty antechamber. "Wait, where is everyone?"

"Everyone?" Jarlaxle quirked an eyebrow.

Entreri's brow furrowed as he looked around. The establishment was respectable, and he didn't dislike it, but because of its well-earned reputation, it was never without patrons, even in the early (or very late) hours of each day.

Yet, all the baskets that would normally hold the possessions of the patrons were empty and stood in neatly-stacked piles. All the towels were clean and similarly stacked, with not a single one discarded in the laundry hamper. 

The assassin covered his face with one hand. "You've bought the place?'

Jarlaxle's laughter lifted Entreri's eyes from underneath his fingers. "Of course not, my abbil! I am not that much of a spendthrift, nor am I imprudent enough to attract unwanted attention, given what I'm trying to accomplish in this city."

"Why is it so empty, then?"

"I rented it for the night!"

"I see. Yes, very frugal of you."

Barely had the quip left Entreri's lips did the assassin realize that the seeming spontaneity that led Jarlaxle to drag him out was actually yet another one of the drow's machinations. Entreri’s arm dropped back to his side, his chin snapping against his chest as his head hung in defeat. "You'd been planning this all along."

"But of course, my abbil! After all, are you not the one who does not believe in coincidence?"

"With you, there is never coincidence," Entreri intoned sarcastically.

Jarlaxle dipped into a quarter-bow. "You do flatter me so."

The assassin snatched the hat from atop Jarlaxle's lowered head and stalked to one of the doors leading to the next room. The transformed drow's skin instantly reverted to its usual ebony, the dark locks disappearing and the ridiculous mustache disintegrated from view just in time for him to catch the hat that the human tossed back at him. He set it upon his head again, but his appearance didn't change.

"Let's just get this over with," Entreri said as he entered the steamy main area, instantly regretting his words as he did. Floral scents saturated the thick air, but amidst the countless exotic notes was the distinct scent of lavender.

The assassin reflexively began to backpedal, but his progress was impeded by a pair of delicate yet strong hands set against his back. 

"No." The assassin's tone was firm, but it wasn't steel in his eyes when they gazed back at the mercenary. Jarlaxle resisted a chuckle and willed away the recollection of a girl he'd seen attempting to bathe her cat. His eyes had met with the feline's, and the resemblance between what he'd witnessed then and what he saw now was too striking to not remember.

"Don't be so stubborn," the drow chided as he pushed against his companion's back. Despite Entreri's best efforts to dig his heels in, the smooth floor was slick with moisture, and the human could find no purchase. 

"You will not release me unless I submit to your ridiculous request?" The assassin was trying to back-step now, to no avail. It hardly surprised him that Jarlaxle's boots locked against the floor while his did not.

"I will not." The mercenary finally stopped pushing, for they were but a few feet away from the largest basin in the room. Entreri felt the drow's arms encircle his neck before he saw the ebony digits work at his cloak clasp. 

The assassin slapped the delicate fingers away. "I can undress myself."

Jarlaxle touched his slapped hand to his heart and feigned a hurt look. "You do wound me so!"

Entreri snorted as he shed his cloak. "If a gentle blow so wounded you, perhaps you should rethink all of your ambitions and how frequently they put you -- put us -- in harm's way."

"Ah, but I simply wished to pamper you a little!"

"Jarlaxle does not 'pamper' anyone but himself, not without costs too high for my appetite," Entreri retorted with a mirthless chuckle. He kicked one boot off, then another, both shoes landing sequentially next to his cloak. His shirt followed, then his trousers, the last to land on the pile his weapons belt, both blades falling upon the makeshift cushion with naught but a soft "fumph". 

The mercenary shrugged, turned to retrieve two baskets, then pulled the assassin's shed attire into one of them. His naked companion was kneeling by the side of the largest basin, a palmful of water held up to his nose. The ruffling of cloth drew Entreri's attention, and when he glanced behind himself, he was surprised to see Jarlaxle disrobing as well.

"What are you doing?" Entreri scowled.

"Undressing," Jarlaxle answered without pause.

"I can see that!" 

Jarlaxle halted. The corners of his lips turned up impishly. "If you're going to watch, I could make it more interesting for you."

Entreri's head snapped forward, but not before allowing the drow to see a roll of his dark eyes. Entreri then focused his attention on lowering himself into the hot water, resisting the urge to plunge himself in over his head so that he didn't have to listen to his companion's musical laughter.

By the time that the assassin had fully immersed himself, the soothing hot water already chased the flamboyant mercenary's antics from his mind. Entreri hadn't realized how tense his muscles were until each fiber relaxed, the heat permeating his body and lifting the strain away. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the edge of the basin, his throat as bared as his any of his victims' when he'd tugged their head back by the hair to press his dagger in. Yet, right then, Entreri didn't feel vulnerable so baring himself, and he lifted both arms onto the edge as well, so that his body could float within the calming water. He lingered there  for he knew not how many heartbeats.

A sudden abrasion against his forearm snapped the assassin’s eyes open, and he withdrew his arm with a mighty push away from the edge. From the center of the pool, Entreri glared at the mercenary with narrowed eyes, one hand rubbing the abraded forearm. Jarlaxle was kneeling on one knee, a porous object held in his hands. Although he pouted, merriment danced in his ruby eyes.

"What is that?" Entreri demanded, still rubbing his assaulted forearm.

Jarlaxle blinked and tilted his head. "This?" He held up the porous object.

"Yes."

"A luffa."

It was Entreri's turn to blink. "Is that not the name for a vegetable from the far east?"

Jarlaxle nodded. "Aye, this is one and the same."

Entreri held his forearm closer and squinted. "Why were you rubbing me with a vegetable?"

Jarlaxle chuckled and set the porous object down. He pulled a basket from around behind him, from which protruded other porous items, but these were items that Entreri recognized. Corals, lava stones, and other bathing implements that he'd seen in the Pashas' palaces. 

"I imagine that you're more familiar with these," Jarlaxle explained as he lifted a piece of coral, "But I've never been fond of them. Too coarse, suitable for a woodworker to rough-finish a beam perhaps? Hardly appropriate for cleansing skin!"

"It was good enough for Pashas and nobles."

"I am not a Pasha, nor am I a human noble. You are neither as well." The drow gestured at his companion to return to the edge. "Come. You'll like it, I promise."

"When you put it that way, it makes me even more uneasy," Entreri grumbled as he dubiously waded toward his companion. Upon reaching the mercenary's toes, the assassin was instantly filled with regret, for the drow, kneeling as he was at the edge, towered over the human from the elevation granted to him by his perch. As Entreri met his companion's eyes, his circumspection took in more details than he'd intended, and he wasn't able to stop himself from observing that Jarlaxle's skin was smoother and silkier than that of any of his former lovers.

And then, there were those ruby eyes. Deeper than blood, warmer than melted wax, more tantalizing than the richest velvet... the assassin felt lightheaded, and wondered if craning his neck back to look only at his companion's face was restricting the flow of blood through the rest of his body. Or, perhaps it was the blackness of the drow's skin, juxtaposing strongly against the light suffusing the room, causing his eyes to strain. 

"I'm getting out, it's too hot," Entreri decided aloud, and pushed himself up onto the landing next to his companion. He started heading for a stack of towels, but a dry hand on his arm stopped him. 

"Not yet," Jarlaxle bade.

"'Yet'?" Entreri echoed.

Jarlaxle nodded, smiling with an innocence that Entreri couldn't help but wonder if it was false. 

"What now?" Entreri asked, worn and exasperated.

"Sit," Jarlaxle instructed, pointing at the floor.

Entreri raised an eyebrow.

"Or you could stand, although that would make it more difficult for me."

"That makes me more inclined to stand." 

"Oh, do sit, my abbil. The quicker you do, the quicker we can be done with this."

Entreri lowered himself and crossed his legs. "What are you going to do?"

"Pamper you, of course!"

Entreri snorted. However, he only looked on curiously as Jarlaxle lifted the same arm that he'd been working on before, and began rubbing it with the luffa. Entreri wasn't surprised to see suds rise with each stroke, and although the friction made him want to retract his arm, the disciplined human held still, repeating Jarlaxle's promise to be done with it all as a calming mantra.

By the time that the mercenary had finished with the other arm, and was applying the vegetable to his back, Entreri was relaxed again. He didn't want to admit it, but the drow's ministrations felt good. Furthermore, his soak in the hot water allowed the scrubbing to lift the dirt, oils and dead skin that he knew had accumulated in his negligence, and the thorough cleansing made him feel almost as though he were being born anew. His tight-fitted leathers had begun to feel more than a little uncomfortable, just on the cusp of threatening to distract his perfect focus, but after this treatment, Entreri suspected that he wouldn't need to worry about the possibility of such a distraction for some time. 

A bucketful of water suddenly emptied over the assassin's head. It shocked him, but Entreri didn't grouse. The water was drawn from the basin next to them, and Entreri could guess readily enough why Jarlaxle was pouring bucketfuls of water over him. Even had he not, the return of his companion's attention to his back fully explained the situation.

"How did you think of using a vegetable as a bathing implement, Jarlaxle?" Entreri murmured, the softness of his voice surprising himself. 

"I learned it from another," the drow cooed, "One of the people who also employed it in delectable dishes. Versatile, is it not?"

Entreri chuckled. "I know how much you enjoy versatile things."

All that the assassin received in response was a soft push on his back. He understood his companion's meaning, and scooted to the edge of the pool. It took some time to lower himself in again, for despite the steamy air, he'd cooled, and had to readjust to the perpetual heat. 

Finally managing to re-submerge himself, Entreri lifted both arms onto the edge and began to tilt his head back to re-assume his earlier floating repose. He was surprised when the back of his head met with something higher than he'd expected, a soft something that wasn't the hard floor. The surprised man opened his eyes, only to find the ruby gaze capturing his own. He instantly understood from the way that his companion hovered over him, as well as the smooth incline pillowing his head, that Jarlaxle now knelt with both knees, and sat back upon his heels. 

"Jarlaxle..." Entreri began, but a soft "shhh" quieted him. One elegant ebony hand swept over the assassin's eyes, and Entreri obediently closed his eyelids. His lips parted when he felt ten delicate digits press lightly against his scalp, but their soothing massage stole the surprised utterances from his mouth. Jarlaxle's fingers worked in unison, deftly stroking, kneading, and -- Entreri realized -- scrubbing, as he felt foam grow out from underneath his companion's digits. 

The assassin's eyes fluttered, and he might've been embarrassed for it, if not for the last of the strain departing his body. He knew not for how long Jarlaxle worked at his scalp, but a regretful tinge pricked his chest when he felt his companion's fingers disengage from his short locks, which they'd pushed into disordered spikes. Feeling the foam beginning to spill over his forehead, Entreri moved to swipe it away before it got to his eyes, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. The hand then moved to tug on his bicep, and Entreri compliantly lifted himself out of the pool. The suds had now drifted over his eyes, forcing the assassin to keep them closed, but Jarlaxle's hand was still on his arm, and he trusted in his own careful footing.

The assassin allowed himself to be led away from the main pool to where he guessed was one of the auxiliary pools. The scent of lavender was stronger here, but he paid it no mind, figuring it to be an effect of the concentration of smells in the edges of the room. Entreri was surprised to hear the splash as, he guessed, Jarlaxle entered the basin. He crouched, then sat, dipping his legs into the pool, and felt the drow take his hands. He allowed himself to be pulled in, for the heat of this pool was similar to that of his body. However, as he slipped in, his feet didn't immediately touch the bottom, and a momentary panic seized him as his head dipped below the surface. Entreri shoved Jarlaxle away as he beat his arms to bring his face to the air, and when he opened his eyes, again, they were again captured by his companion's ruby gaze, which was regarding him curiously.

"I did not know that you feared water," Jarlaxle quipped.

"I was surprised," Entreri admitted before realizing the words had escaped him, and his face heated, but not from the water.

Jarlaxle simply smiled, and caught a wooden bowl floating nearby. Entreri paddled quietly while Jarlaxle lifted scoop after scoop of water to rinse the last of the suds from his hair. 

His task completed, the mercenary leaned back and allowed himself to float away like a leaf on a quiet pond. Entreri regarded the drow curiously. 

"What are you doing now?"

"Replenishing my scent."

"Replenishing your scent," Entreri repeated quietly to himself. "Replenishing..."

The assassin's eyes grew wide. He sniffed at the water, but he couldn't discern whether the concentration of lavender originated from it, or hung in the air. Turning swiftly, Entreri kicked at the water fiercely until he was at the edge, then lifted himself out with a single swift heave. His expression filled with dismay as he sniffed his forearm, shook it off, then sniffed it again. 

"You'd planned this all along!" Entreri shouted at the languidly floating figure.

"Perhaps," the muffled voice responded.

Shaking his head with disbelief, the assassin stalked to the main pool. 

"Don't do it, you'll regret it," sing-songed the voice from across the room.

Entreri plunged his entire body into the hot water.

"I told you that you'd regret it. There's good reason for cooling baths, especially as autumn draws to a close," Jarlaxle chided as he pulled the warm wet cloth from Entreri's forehead and replaced it with another one that he'd just wrung the water from. The mercenary straightened his companion's covers, and not for the first time, for the shivering man kept bunching it up around his smallish form.

"Shut up," was all the assassin could manage from between his chattering teeth.

[[ I was apparently more tired than I thought I was when I posted this, to have completely missed that they went from fully clothed to naked without the in-between, when I’d written out the in-between. =_= Hopefully it all hangs together better now.

This is a companion piece to both the unnamed Sellsword Self-Care Part 1 and The Color Between the Lines. The plot of Waterdeep: Dragon Heist takes place 5 years after Timeless, and, if I’m being serious, I don’t see this level of comfort between Artemis and Jarlaxle in the current novel timeline, but I think it’s definitely plausible to get there in 5 years.

Otherwise, it’s just some warm, intimate, soft and whimsical Sellswords shenanigans. o: ]]

[anothercuppatea]

My Monster needs a Vet

Working on a story strangely close to home. I love Monsters, my parents are vets, combining the two naturally. Hope you enjoy!

“Cassie,” whispered Mrs Wimple, “want to see some Cerberus puppies?”

     Whether it was the mention of Ceberus or Puppies, Cassie was out of bed like it had shocked her. It was so early in the morning it was still dark and even the early morning birds weren’t singing yet.

     “There’s only time for your coat, it’s not too cold out tonight,” said Mrs Wimple.

     Cassie pulled on her favourite mustard yellow wellies over thick green socks then finally her dark blue and white striped rain coat, her warm, fluffy winter pyjamas underneath.

     It was a short drive to her parents’ veterinary practise; it was an earie sight to Cassie seeing the small gravelled car park empty save for one car, the practise’s car, which her Dad mainly drove. The sky was clear from clouds and glittering with stars, without the moon Cassie could just about make out the two stone dogs permanently sitting on opposite sides of the car park; She couldn’t make out the crack up the side of the one closest to the Practise door. Cassie still felt both a conflicted sense of guilt and pride each time she saw it.

    “Dad’s already inside,” said Mrs Wimple as she locked the car.

    This was not the first time Cassie had been invited to see a procedure done by one of her parents. Cassie’s sister, Lily, had been invited one time but the sight of blood had disagreed with her so Mr and Mrs Wimple decided no to encourage her in the profession any further.

     Inside, Cassie washed her hands and kept to the corner of the operating room like a houseplant. She had made the mistake of hugging her Dad on sight when he had his scrubs on, because of the risk of germs she might have given him by touch he had to change his medical gown again or risk those germs going inside the animal when operating. That could not be allowed to happen. Cassie and her Mum hung their coats by the back door, an area only permitted for staff, then Cassie exchanged her wellies for one of her Dad’s pair of shoes. They were too big and clunky, but she wasn’t planning in moving fast in them for the length of their visit.

     The operating room, like the rest of the practise, was clean and fresh, like a dentist’s. The smell of cleaning chemicals tickled the back of her nose. When she entered the room, Cassie saw the pregnant Cerberus already on its back, unconscious on the table. Each of the three mouths had its big, pink tongue tied to their bottom jaws, with a ripped cloth, to clear the airways for the tube providing both oxygen and anaesthesia to keep the animal asleep. Each breath from the three heads was slow and steady. Its upturned bulging belly, dotted with three pairs of teats, unshaven under the fluorescent light above. Apart from the Cerberus, the room was devoid of colour except for the labelling of surgical items, drugs, cleaning sprays and chemical wipes and the two bins for certain wastes. Everything else was a dotted grey, pale blue, white or metallic silver from the walls to the operating table. Everything was tucked neatly away.

     Cassie knew one draw of the operating room well and was the only one she was permitted into to and that was the one with the plastic syringes (without needles) and the things that looked like tiny basters, like small versions of the big one her Mum uses for the Christmas Turkey. Cassie and her sister would use the syringes as water guns. When Lily grew out of it, Cassie continued to use them, playing surgery on her toys. Mrs Wimple also gave her gloves, a surgical mask and hat, bandages and stethoscope to play with.

     “Morning Cassie!” Mr Wimple chirruped as he entered the operating room full in scrub and his forearms bent and gloved hands up in the usual fashion. His voice muffled slightly behind his surgical mask.

     “Morning Dad,” said Cassie, supressing the need to pat his arm, “what type of dog is this one?”

     “I’m going to let you try and guess,” Dad said with a wink.

Mrs Wimple was in the other room getting her scrubs on too and shouted, “Go on Cass!”

Cassie circled the unconscious Cerberus and took in its detail. It was a very large dog, with light sandy brown fur except for around its snouts and ears which were dark brown. For the size of its build had medium sized legs and paws but big heads and wide jaws and the ears naturally folded, dog-eared.

     “British Bullmastiff?” Cassie asked uncertainly.

     Mr Wimple gives her the double thumbs up.

     “Did you get it?” asks Mrs Wimple as she enters the room in full scrub.

     “Course she did,” interrupts Mr Wimple, then clears his throat, “now to the patient my dears,” and with that Cassie saw her parents flip into work mode.

     Now Cassie observed. Her parents shaved the lower belly of the Cerberus, disinfects the area, places the blue square of tissue over the dog so only the path of body being operated on was seen, and then prepares to make the first incision. Mr Wimple drew his scalpel through the skin as easy as a finger in the snow. Cassie doesn’t know how there is no bloody leaking out like in the movies, but she trusts there is a reason, good. No one wants to see a dog bleed to death let alone bleed, especially a pregnant one. Clamps were rigged on either side of the opening of the belly, meaning Mr and Mrs Wimple didn’t have to hold it open constantly and they could focus on finding the uterus full of puppies in need.

     Within the minute Mrs Wimple had located the uterus and brought it closer to the incision surface. The uterus was purple and moved like a water-balloon. Mr Wimple made another incision, this time into the uterus. Cassie was fascinated in their confidence that with each incision they weren’t risking cutting the puppies inside.

     Suddenly, Mrs Wimple pulled away from the Ceberus, a tiny three headed puppy in each of her gloved hands. In less than half a minute she removes another one from the womb.

     “There’s one still in there,” said Mr Wimple, standing back as Mrs Wimple removed the puppies.

     “Is it ok?” Cassie asks and slowly moves over to the where the three puppies lie, in a small open glass box padded with pink and blue towels. Puppies eyes are closed when they are born, after a few more days developing they eventually open. So they were slowly, blindly, crawling around the box, making soft mewling noises that made Cassie want to cuddle all three. Distracted, she was did not notice her parents had not answered her.

     “Got it,” said Mrs Wimple as she removed the last little puppy, and Mr Wimple began to stitch the Cerberus back up. He never used his hand directly, he held the thread with one surgical implement and a curved needle with another which looked like hybrids between tweezers and scissors. It was his fluidity and skill in doing so that impressed Cassie so much, she was mesmerised and nearly forgot about the fourth puppy which still wasn’t breathing.

    Eventually, minutes later, “Poor thing,” said Mrs Wimple, shaking her head. The fourth puppy was put into a separate box and covered with a lid and towel.

     “What happened?” Cassie asked.

     Mrs Wimple removed her mask, her face still upon the towel covered box, she said bluntly “We believed a puppy was the cause of the obstruction, we managed to get the other pups out in time but this one was just unresponsive,” she removed her bloodied gloves.

     Cassie held her hands together and bowed her head, “I’m sorry Mum,”

     “It’s alright Cassie,” said Mrs Wimple, managing a faint smile.

     “We managed to get the other three out,” said Mr Wimple cheerily, also removing his gloves. He had finished neatly stitching the Cerberus back up and removed the tissue from the body and threw it in one of the waste bins.

     “Cass,” Mrs Wimple said, leading her back to the three puppies.

     “Yeah Mum?”

     “You know your Dad and I have been talking about us getting a dog?”

     Cassie’s eyes widened at the leading question, she looked at the three living puppies still crawling around in their box, only minutes old.

     “We’ve talked about it with the client, the owner of this Cerberus and they’re happy for us to have one,” explained Mrs Wimple, “now of course we wouldn’t be able to take it now, they still need to be with their mother for a while and when they are, you and Lily are going to come and you’re both going to choose which one we’re going to keep,”

     “Sound good?” asked Mr Wimple, patting Cassie on the back.

     “Oh Yeah!” squealed Cassie and she began to hysterically jump up and down, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

     Mr and Mrs Wimple left the unconscious Ceberus in one of the caged kennels on a drip, the puppies were left with her to wake up to and start nursing if they did not manage naturally locate the milk themselves beforehand. It was beginning to break dawn as they left the surgery, sunlight was warming the sky to a gentle pink behind the trees in the East, waking the early birds up which began to sing. Cassie could now make out the large crack up the side of the stone dog by the door, but she was too excited to come up with the name for their new dog to consider anything else right now.

[suggestionsofthecaribbean]

Tortuga: James and Elizabeth

After separately brooding on these events, Elizabeth returns to her room with James and a confrontation occurs over the nature of their relationship, both personally and professionally.

Featuring @norringtonsuggestions and @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions.

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions: hey

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: how did it go with Giselle?

@norringtonsuggestions: Sorry to have missed these; I was distracted.

@norringtonsuggestions​: Nothing you intended.

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: Not anything bad, i hope?

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: I take it she was not the distraction.

@norringtonsuggestions​: We spoke.

@norringtonsuggestions​: She’s enlisting on the Gloriana.

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: Oh, is she really

@norringtonsuggestions​:: I’ve no idea if she’ll be of any use, but she spoke so wistfully of having wanted to go for a sailor as a young girl that I suppose I was moved.

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: she and i talked about that

@norringtonsuggestions​: I’m not leaving for some time- she needs more of a crew. She was understaffed when I took her, and she cannot last with only seventy-five men onboard including myself.

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: at least i have you a little while longer to myself, then

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: Although i do not know if you saw but there are already rumors about that

@norringtonsuggestions​: How could I not be aware.

@lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: You were right, they absolutely did not say you lay at my feet, who could have foreseen this, it was just you @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions​: Backgammon though!! I don't even know how we would

---

James never returned her texts, and after a few minutes stretched into an hour Elizabeth accepted privately that James was taking the accusation of being a backgammon player - at least, the implications of his being the passive player - much more poorly than she was.  She wished she had done more to refute it in Red Jenny’s room, instead of merely deflecting it to….well. She was having her dinner now in order to progress more quickly to sobriety precisely in memory of that deflection.

She brought up a little bit of dinner with her when she returned, at very late an hour, to the honeymoon suite.  Of course, they could be asleep - or if she were fortunate, it would just be him and she would not have to ask the girl to leave - but she was nonetheless apprehensive that she might have to share with Giselle: dinner, her bed, or worse, her new captain.

On the contrary, however, James was awake, and making notes in a small leather-bound book pressed against his knee when she entered. He acknowledged her with a glance upward and mildly raised eyebrows, then returned to his work. The room smelled of rum, but he was sober.

“Good evening, Elizabeth.”

That was not where she wanted his eyes, since it was nowhere near her.  Elizabeth approached him wordlessly, stuck her foot on the frame jutting out from beneath the mattress, and ceremoniously pulled her coat off, before hanging it on the bedpost.

“James, it’s 3 in the morning.”

“I’m used to keeping odd hours.” He pulled a leather strip sewn to the book’s binding down in the gutter of the page on which he had been writing and shut it. “However, the rest may wait, if you need the candle extinguished to sleep.”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

She was annoyed at him for still not looking at her, particularly with this pose.  She took her hat off and tossed it proudly onto the floor, letting the braid fall down her back, then made something of a show - as subtlely as possible, which was not very - of pulling her fingers through it, letting her hair loose and free.

He had been midway to the candelabrum anyway when he looked back at her and paused.

“Er,” he said. “How was your evening, then?”

“Wretched,” she supplied, before sinking onto the bed beside him, rather too closely beside him, and asking, “So how was yours?  What did Giselle do with you?”, while sliding one hand through what was left to his hair.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Let’s talk about Giselle, shall we?”

James turned his whole body to face her this time, with one leg swung over the other, just a bit too friendly to presage anything but a scolding.  Elizabeth took note of this before it reached her consciousness, and pulled back from him.

“Please explain to me what I was meant to take from your decision to pre-pay some town girl to come and wait for me when half of the island and probably most of the Internet believes you’ve already made me into your…”

It took him a moment; there were no good words for this with the gender configuration at hand, so when he settled for “catamite” the effect was rather undercut by the uncertain way his brows had drawn together even more than their usual resting position.

By this point Elizabeth had resumed standing, and undressing for her comfort, removing bits and pieces of weaponry from her belt and tossing them onto the foot of their bed.  Now she unbuckled her belt, and when she removed it the gesture was markedly lewd, suggestive of both violence and otherwise.  

She let that suggestion percolate a moment before it, too, joined the cast-off assortment of implements.

“I thought you could use the company,” she said coolly, gathering her things up in her coat like a girl might do with her apron, and hauling them into a trunk of clothing where the rest of her things were kept.  “Not to mention the opportunity to assert your maligned manhood.  God knows how you look after your reputation.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, then, but nothing happened save a few minutes’ fully dressed conversation,” James said flatly. “She’s joining the Gloriana when we depart- as a sailor, thank you. It was apparently an ambition of hers, before the matter of her sex dashed it. You might understand that, I hope.”

He gave her a very severe look to emphasize this last point, and hopefully give her at least a little shame at the position in which she had placed Giselle.

“I suppose an illegitimate crew cannot help a few illegitimate hands, and it’s better than leaving her in… this place.”

“Well, I am happy for her, though departing on a ship with you is hardly the only way a woman can achieve her dreams,” said Elizabeth, with a shocking lack of regard for how he might feel about it.  There was altogether something hard and unkind in her manner that had not been there the night before, let alone in his company at any point in time.

“And God only knows if she shall,” said James, as he stood to remove his coat at last. “But we cannot all be as fortunate as you or I, leaping from success to success until it fails us.”

He gave her a look that was nearly a glare over his shoulder as he hung it up.

Elizabeth spread her arms haughtily and looked around the room.  “Have I done you some wrong?”

“Of course not,” he said, crossing his arms. “I am your dog, am I not? To be summoned and sent away as it should please your highness? And thrown treats, it would seem, when you feel generous.”

Elizabeth stalked across the room to him, every step a pointed challenge.

“What do you expect me to say?  That I am not your king, and you are not my dog? That you are only my oldest friend?  That I am only your only friend?”

She did not stop until she was far more in his space than necessary.

“Besides, I could not do it myself,” she said haughtily, and, turning around to walk away again, tossed her hair so that it flew into his face.

After the instinctive flinching that came with that, her meaning became clear. James clenched his jaw.

“Excuse me if I do not find Tortuga an amorous destination.”

It was her turn to glare at him over her shoulder.

“Your loss,” she said lightly.  “She was very pretty.”

“And quite probably ill,” he added, “though that’s scarcely her fault. She’s not likely to remain very pretty here. The sea is hardly kinder, but at least she may derive some greater joy from it.”

“I expect she will,” said Elizabeth, no longer radiating fury, but still decidedly cold, now merely businesslike about it.

He stared at her.

“Are you- is this envy?”

She looked up at him much too sharply, and all of her anger returned.

“How dare you.  I hired her!”

“As some sort of proxy, is that it?” he continued, fairly certain he had struck gold. “Or as a test, perhaps? Heaven forbid I don’t want to go about having a tumble with some Tortuga dock-girl who sounds nearly relieved to speak of her ambitions and desires, especially after my previous ignorance of yours-“

“A test? A test?” Elizabeth yelled over him. “If it had been you would certainly have failed it - this is why there are rumors about you, captain.”

She started angrily unbuttoning her shirt, though this time she did not instruct him to look away. In fact, she seemed to silently, provocatively dare him to, instead.

“There are rumors-“

His jaw clenched, and he had to force it open again with some effort.

“There are rumors because there are in fact very few boundaries a man will not cross to survive, or to merely forget that he ever had reason to wish for his survival, in a place like this when he is both destitute and unable to return to civilization,” he very nearly spat, “and it would appear pirates have good memory for such things. I’m certain there are plenty of gentlemen on this island who would be all too happy to tell you what the ex-Commodore who washed up on these shores some time ago was willing to do for a bit of coin. Forgive me, my king, if testing the resolve of some little doxy hanging about the harbor for a similar prize is an unsavory idea to consider.”

“I will not be scolded like somebody’s little sister because I made a transaction with an honest woman for her services,” said Elizabeth, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice that conveyed more venom than facts. “As a counterpoint to your flimsy self-righteousness, might I point out that she would not have joined up with your crew if she had not been here tonight to meet you, so all in all it seems my attempt to do you a good turn did her one instead.  Am I not magnanimous, James?”

“Yes, I suppose we’re all quite lucky,” James said heatedly. “Turn away; I don’t wish to sleep in this shirt again.”

She turned around, deliberately slowly.

James blew out half of the candles in the candelabrum to avoid giving her too much of a presumed unwanted glimpse of him in such a state of undress and finished pulling his shirt off, dropping it on the bedside table as he did.

“‍There. I’ve finished. I can keep my back to you if you wish.”

She had her arms folded, her shoulders hunched in vulnerability and much discomfort with it.  The sound of his blowing out the candles had finished her; she was no less irritated than before, but the desire to solve the problem by shouting at and belittling him until he dropped it had ebbed away into a miserable sense of his physical presence and its distance from her.

“I do not wish,” she said in a haughty, but brittle, voice.

He turned in the half-darkness to face her again, as though challenging her.

“I’ve finished, then. You may turn around.”

Elizabeth, hugging her arms in what remained of her poor mood, reluctantly turned around to see him. She ended up swallowing hard and turning away again.

“May I speak frankly with you?”

He sat warily.

“Proceed.”

Now she turned to face him.  She had gotten so far as removing her shirt, but no further; her stays, which had been loosened and pulled off beneath the shirt she’d worn the night before, were still on, and so was her chemise, but this was a pitiful sort of decency nonetheless.

“I thought you would like it. I hoped you would like it. I don’t know what you fault me with.”

“I do not enjoy being treated as a favored pet,” James said, a little coldy. “Least of all at the expense of another. If perhaps she were of a different caliber- if they had a proper pleasure house around here- but some poor creature haunting the Tortuga docks, bought and sent up like a packet of snuff as a present for your faithful dog?”

“I made a general post online about seeking a woman’s particular services and she was the only woman who answered it who didn’t ghost me when I mentioned your name,” said Elizabeth icily. “We had dinner and a chat first.  I did not get so pitiful an impression of her as you did.”

“Then that, at least, is fortunate,” he conceded. “I’m sorry- I just…”

Some of the tension released in his shoulders. James sighed and let his head rest against his hand.

“I hate this god-damned island. I was a fool to come back.”

“Yes, of course,” said Elizabeth in a mockingly delicate and polite tone of voice. “How terrible for us to meet again.  You know -”

She realized what she was about to say to him and bit her lip on the information, uncomfortable but still angry enough to have nearly said it: this is why I did not want to marry you.  I knew you would be all appropriate, flowery affection from afar, and a miserable failure when it came to the actual act.  

“Would that we might have met anywhere else,” James said as he watched her, recognizing her temper and moving to defuse it. “I had not intended to see you so soon. Your messages were full of such pride that I would have preferred us to reunite after having done enough to sustain it.”

“You are simultaneously insisting I see you as my dog, which you find to be an insult, and then saying this - as though you prefer our relationship be exclusively that of some monarch and their favorite,” said Elizabeth angrily, putting her hands on her hips.  “It is not my fault you want and don’t want to be my pet.”

“I had hoped I might come to you as a friend, and a companion-in-arms,” he said. “I cannot be expected to deny my affection for you, and though I carry it without expectation I had hoped that at least I might have your respect.”

“Why do you think you are not those things?” she said in clear frustration, and, it was beginning to be clear even in the low candlelight, hurt.  “Does it mean I do not respect you because I - I - hoped to send you company for the evening?  That I hoped you might enjoy it?  Pardon me if I was wrong, but as far as I know being wrong is not the same thing as intentionally causing insult!”

“This is not about Giselle any longer. This is about ‘there he is, my faithful dog’ and all that followed,” said James. “This is about my apparent status as a lackey passed from Beckett to you with no thought of my own on the matter-“

“That was meant entirely in jest!” said Elizabeth, brow furrowing, her manner moving swiftly down the line from formidable and menacing, as it had been earlier, to righteous, but not irrational anger, to finally agitated pouting.  She was even fidgeting with the lacings on her stays, and looked like she might cry.  “You don’t understand- you don’t-”  Elizabeth blinked back tears and stubbornly looked up at the ceiling so they would not fall. “Surely you must understand that our lives depend on our reputations in this profession. I am not merely trying to look cool.  James, they want to kill you.  I saved your life by making murdering you not worth the risk of angering me - and I deflected their anger at me, for threatening them and for protecting Beckett’s loyal dog, by making it clear you won’t go unpunished.  Do you think you can defect from working for someone as cruel, as hateful, as evil as Beckett and appear to come through it unscathed?  They would despise you still more, and me with you!  How do I protect you then, if they loathe me more than they fear me?  If I look weak? If I look like a simpering little daddy’s girl with an infatuation for one of Beckett’s officers, and let him lord it over them that he is free while anyone they have ever loved could be dead in a mass grave somewhere in Port Royal?  Oh, I admit it, I was teasing you, and I had fun doing it; but I am not a cruel and giddy little girl.  I am not Cutler Beckett! I am trying to keep you safe - the only person left for me to love and care about. The only person left who cares about me.”

Abruptly she turned away from him and wiped furiously at her eyes, more out of frustration than unhappiness - so she told herself.

James fell silent, and then made room for her on the bed.

“All right, come here. I apologize; I spoke too rashly.”

She did not want to sit down, pausing as though she would do it anyway, and ultimately deciding to pace the floor instead.  She did not want to be still.  She also found it too painful to sit near him.

“I have to work - ten hundred times harder than anyone else here does to be taken seriously.  It would be bad enough if i were another rum runner, but I’m the Pirate King.  You’ll never understand it, you’ve been in the Royal Navy since you were twelve years old. I had to have a chaperone everywhere I went until two years ago - and believe me, that only let up because I started simply flouting rules I no longer wanted to follow and I had a very indulgent father.”

She stopped and stood in front of him.

“Do you fail to see the reason they delight in mocking how far you’ve fallen?  It’s because they were all terrified of you!  Do you think it will be hard for you to get that back again?  Why do you think Beckett wanted you in his pocket? He could have simply hanged you! What do I have to recommend myself? Hm?  Please, enlighten me.  You had so much sympathy for Giselle.  Can’t you show me any?”

“Beckett wanted me in his pocket because he’s a pathetic little wretch who thinks he can make the world his toy after Daddy didn’t give him enough of them,” James said vehemently. “It’s why he thought to dwell so often on the Admiral, to feel as though he had leverage on my own history so as to blot out his own. Anything to bend the whole damned world around himself, anything to create debt. Keeping me alive, hearing me call him my lord every time I entered the room- it was debt.”

“And that is what you think of me, too, then?” asked Elizabeth, hands falling to her sides.  She couldn’t disguise the tears in her eyes now, but she wouldn’t bury what was left of her anger, either.

“I don’t know what you want or think of me,” said James, “aside from thinking me to be a fine man, whatever that means anymore. I have never held you in any expectation after understanding where your path lay, but I think it is no great request to ask you to not treat my heart as something you may toss about lightly.”

She looked indignant, even disgusted.  “I don’t!”

“It’s a recent development,” he countered. “On the Pearl, I cannot say I enjoyed watching you grow hot for Sparrow, but at least it was not mixed with periods of false hope-“

“False hope- here’s one for you,” countered Elizabeth, after walking away from him in irritation and then turning back abruptly.  “Will and I annulled our marriage in part because I could not stop thinking about you.”

“What?”

He had been reclining, rather moodily at that, but this made James sit up again. The anger had vanished from his face entirely, leaving only abject confusion in its wake.

“...Elizabeth, you cannot be serious-“

“I cannot give only half of my heart - I couldn’t to you two years ago, and I couldn’t to him two nights ago. I suggested we had married too early and should date longer first, but I hurt him too much and he left.”  A curse word formed in her mind; Elizabeth was really in tears now.  “He said he saw no distinction; either I wanted to be together or I didn’t. What could I say to that?  I knew my heart was torn after the battle between the Dutchman and the Empress - well, such as it was a battle - and we reconciled.  You must remember that night.  I couldn’t sleep afterward.  All I could think about was you.”  Her mouth twisted in an affectionate, miserable smile. “I tried to remain distant but I knew I had to talk to Will about it before I could possibly see you face to face.  Well, talking about it ended everything.  Does that satisfy you?”

“...Elizabeth,” he repeated.

James stood again and lifted a candle from the candelabrum. Carefully, he used it to re-light the candles he had extinguished and then set it aside, brushing the melted wax from his fingers onto his trousers as he turned away from the night table.

He crossed to where Elizabeth stood and touched her under the chin with two gently curled fingers. He wanted to see her in the light.

“May I?” he asked.

“If you’re asking to kiss me, you’re two years too late,” she said bitterly, though she lifted her head with no small degree of cautious, tightly-wound pride.

For a moment, it looked- and probably felt- very much as though James were leaning toward her lips.

He hesitated, though, a breath away, looking away uncertainly and then lowering his eyes altogether. His head bowed, his mouth moved away from hers, and he put his hand in her hair instead and simply held her in silence, disregarding his own shirtlessness.

Elizabeth startled, and then relaxed against him, insofar as she was capable of it.  He was a distraction from her misery; he was her misery.  She put her arms around him and they trembled.  She pressed her face against him and breathed hesitantly, only to be bothered by the smell of him.  

“God, James,” she complained.

“Hmmm?”

He leaned out to look at her, though he had his back to the candles himself and was difficult to make out beyond the shape of his shoulders and neck and the stubborn tousle of his hair, as though it were rejoicing in its newfound freedom.

She smiled an absolutely miserable, absolutely radiant smile, and reached up one unsteady hand to brush over his hair.

“I’m growing accustomed to it,” he admitted, leaning into her touch. “I don’t think I shall be purchasing another wig.”

“I must apologize to you again for the encouragement of the dog epithet,” she admitted with a wretched smile.  “I admit that while it was sincerely meant as an albeit calculated joke, there was… another side to it.”

His hands very comfortably settled on her waist. It was broader than he recalled- but of course, that would be the muscularity she’d taken on since their engagement. And the absence of that wretched corset.

Had she not worn that corset, he wondered, might she have been- not his, surely; Elizabeth had always been her own. He had always loved her for it, even before the nature of that love changed. In another life, she could have been very easily as a younger sister to him. But were it not for that corset…

In some other life, perhaps they were happy.

“What’s that?”

She flushed with embarrassment.

“....I rather like the imagery,” she whispered. “A lapdog, a protector.  Someone to ‘fetch’ me victories and return to be shown off for his good behavior.  A companion of unconditional trustworthiness to sit at my heels - “ She cut herself off, letting her hand slide from hair to stroke his throat distractedly, before forcing herself to meet his eyes with a flustered smile.

“Is it so much to ask that that be kept between us?” he asked, a little desperately.

She bit her lip, then shook her head, her eyes locked on his hopelessly.

“...unconditional trustworthiness,” he repeated distantly.

He broke the gaze between them. Unconditional had about as much of a history as Giselle, at least where he and Elizabeth were concerned.

Elizabeth let go of him, shaken. The night had been long before she’d gotten back to this room; now it had extended to twice that length.

There was something in the close repetition of these events - hurting Will with her budding feelings for James and hurting James now with her remaining feelings for Will, or merely the knowledge she had felt for Will first - that made both of them look even uglier.  Now she had something she’d done to another woman to add onto that.  

Many people on the sea would have killed for compass like Jack’s, but Elizabeth just wanted to hold it.

To see where it would point.

“...I’m sorry, James,” she said, sounding far away herself.  A solitary tear trickled down her cheek and disappeared beneath her chin.  “I don’t know how to behave myself, it seems.  Not exactly brand new information.”

She walked to the other side of the room; it didn’t matter that it was dark there. She needed to be away from him to say this.

“...and you were right,” she said finally. It was an admission to herself as much as to him.  “I want you but I can’t have you; I thought if I facilitated a night between you and another woman, it would be…. Very nearly like having you myself.  But I mean it when I say I thought you would enjoy it.”

She looked to the side; not quite behind herself, not looking over her shoulder, but she could have seen him if she’d looked.

“I wanted you to be happy.”

James waited to see if she had anything to add, and then crossed to where she stood, in the dark.

“Forgive me, please, the demands I have placed on you. I misunderstood your intentions.”

“If anyone should ask for forgiveness it is me,” said Elizabeth, turning around to face him.  “I’ve had a beastly day and I’ve come back here and taken it all out on you.  That is why there are rumors about me,” she said, pulling a face.  “I….” Care about you, she wanted to say.  I care about you beyond words.  I love you.  She could not say anything of the sort.  She did not even know if it were true or not, and it would hurt him worse than any whip or harsh word ever could.  “God, I missed you, James,” she whispered. That was very much true.

She still had the benefit of candlelight on her face. He clenched and unclenched his jaw again as he studied her. She was crying, and it was his fault.

He should have gone with her. He should never have given Beckett the heart. He should never have sailed into that hurricane. He should never have hesitated from saving Turner. He should have kissed her on the Dauntless. He should have proposed when he made Captain...

“...forgive my impudence,” he said, after a long silence. “I have always been a loyal dog to someone or another; it is not so terrible to at least perform service at which I have excelled in the service of the woman I love.”

He wanted to kiss her. He knelt instead, and swallowed every objection he could think of for later.

Elizabeth gasped, and looked anywhere but down at the man kneeling at her boots.  The sight of him doing so gave her the sharpest and most wretched sensation she’d had all night, and she couldn’t scrub her mind of how much she wanted him.

She took a step back and faltered, then she knelt beside him, cupping his face a little harder than she meant to.

“I want you,” she said, her voice quiet and barely steady; she felt if she spoke any louder that it would come out in a way she did not intend for him to hear. “But I want - when I give myself - when I love - to give myself unreservedly.”

She chewed on her lower lip, searching his eyes in the dark to be sure he understood her.

“...well,” he said, “I don’t see reservations as cause enough to go sailing away into the night.”

He kissed her.

She touched his chest to push him back, but that was not what she ended up doing.  She broke the kiss after only a moment.

“I can’t help myself,” she said, now clearly out of breath, nearly panting in fact. “This is…. James, you should know, I was kissing somebody else only two hours before I returned to this room-”

“Who-“

He was still close, but frowning in- not confusion, precisely, but just wondering how deep this went.

Elizabeth blushed enough that even in this lighting it was visible.

“.... Jane Redding,” she confessed, after a moment of speechlessness.  “I don’t know- I don’t know why or how. It was - I don’t know - I wanted to, and I don’t feel I can take anything back. It’s like a performance.  And she wanted to - I don’t pretend to understand it.”

She bitterly followed up with, “Of course the rum did not help.”

“Rum does that,” James said darkly.

“You don’t deserve me,” she blurted. “You’re too good of a man, whatever you may think.  I’m not your equal at all -”

“Is this a refusal?”

He sounded exhausted, and far more literally looked it.

“Because you are at least a good enough woman to have twice saved my life in this wretched place, and to have earned my fealty.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but stare at him, all of him, looking him in the eye in abject misery and apology before her own eye wandered yet again.

“...I want you, James,” she repeated, feeling quite stupid now. She did not know to tell him, so she touched her own throat, her own décolletage, meeting his eyes while she did so.  “Just awfully.  But I don’t think - I don’t think it would be fair. I think I would be using you.”

“...Elizabeth,” he said, and he took the hand she had touched herself with. “Elizabeth…”

He kissed her hand, lingering over it. It was a rough hand, and understandably so- as callused as his own by now, and (at least currently) more browned by the sun. He kissed along to her wrist, to her pulse-point.

“...at least grant me the autonomy to let this be my fault.”

Elizabeth gasped in surprise, and something else.  She felt so hot that it was difficult to think, let alone to be pragmatic about where this was going.  She cupped his chin with that hand, rubbing his lip with her thumb, then leaned in to kiss his open mouth.

James fell back and caught himself, and her, so that she was now pressed against him in the kiss. He laughed as he curled his free arm around her, and as the kiss broke he met her lips again, but much more lightly this time, and teasingly.

Elizabeth unlaced her stays through the kiss and tossed them aside, then fumblingly guided his hand to her chemise, pulling back just enough to give him a purposeful look, with just enough desperation to hint at him to show her what to do.

She had brought his hand right to her breast. James took this in with a considering sort of look, and then gently pulled her hand to his mouth again.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “come to bed.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted in unfeigned shock.  She did not need him to repeat himself.  She scrambled to stand and to pull him to his feet and with her to the bed, where she kicked her boots off with a clumsy, vulnerable eagerness; her hands were busy, as she wouldn’t take them off him.

“There we are- be careful-“

He kissed her again, at her hairline, and scooped her up to carry her to the bed, where he lay her down again with a reverent smile on his face.

“Elizabeth…”

She kissed him on the chin, on the throat, on the lips - on the lips repeatedly, and her hands were all over his chest.

“Can I take you out?” she asked sleepily.

“Not tonight,” he said. “You have had a terrible day.”

He kissed her again, and released her to walk around to the other side of the bed, where he pulled the shirt back on without tucking it back in and began pulling off his boots.

Elizabeth was, frankly, too out of breath and too unfocused (or rather, too singularly focused on one clear object) to understand what had taken place until she saw him dress for bed.

Smarting very sharply - primarily between her legs and from a pain in her chest that only threatened to grow larger every day - Elizabeth abruptly rolled over in bed and crossed her arms in a visible sulk.

Her unsteady breathing was still audible.  Even with the distant tavern sounds below them, it was easily the loudest noise in the room.

James sat beside her and touched her arm.

“You told me yourself, you’re still unplucked,” he said, and it was terribly affectionate. “If it happened tonight, I fear you should despise me in the morning.”

“Fear not,” she muttered; “I despise you now.”

For a moment she really believed so, and then, her face still red and her whole body still one single loud heartbeat, she sat up in bed and pitched herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck.

He let himself fall back and brought her with him, pressed against him regardless of anything else that could have happened, or that they were both prepared for. Her being pitched against his chest while he lay down would hopefully distract from the current goings-on in his trousers, but it would, frankly, be far from the first time James had just waited for such things to go away. It was another kind of stamina, really.

“Mmf. Good night, Elizabeth.”

“It certainly has not been,” she rejoined instantly, though her voice came out muffled. “Can we kiss again, at least?”

“Very well, if you insist. Come here.”

She leaned on his chest and gazed into his eyes for a moment, lips parted and expression faintly wondering.  Then she kissed him again, trying to convey with the depth of her passion and the slowest possible kisses how much he was missing out on.

“I do love you, you know,” said James, in a muzzy voice between kisses. “That’s why…”

“Hm,” she hummed as though considering it.

After several long, glorious minutes of kissing him, Elizabeth decided to straddle him to improve on the angle at which they were kissing. The improvement was sudden and merciless, and Elizabeth made quite a noise at it-

And just as abruptly, James picked her off of himself and set her aside.

“Good night, Elizabeth,” he said again, though not unaffectionately, despite roughly turning on his side and away from her.

Elizabeth, for her own part, stayed on her back, and it took at least ten minutes before she was no longer gasping for air.  She glared at his side of the bed as though he had done something to anger her that she could no longer quite remember any of the details of, until finally she dozed off and fell asleep.

[lupienne]

Sometimes You Just Need A...

A little drabble for ya’ll! Ok, maybe longer than a drabble. 3,829 words. Set after Issue #174. Fluffy/maybe slightly angsty drek that is highly unlikely but I like it anyhoo. (Maybe that’s why I like it. LOL) Platonic Regan. :)

Story under the pic/cut.

Sometimes You Just Need A... by Lupienne

"Is this a good idea?"

Rick looked back at Annie as he tightened the strap on Silver's saddle. He'd loaded her saddlebags with supplies, and informed Heath where he was heading.

"I said I would." He patted the mare's nose. "And it's been three weeks."

"But alone?"

"I'll be fine. If I'm not back by morning, then you can worry."

"Sure thing, Mr Grimes." She stood by, ready to open the gate.

He struggled to pull himself atop the horse. She stood patiently as he adjusted himself in the saddle. He'd gained a new appreciation for the gentle old mare. She was slow and worn, just like him.

He urged her into a light trot, leaving Alexandria behind at a pleasant pace.

And what a pleasant day! The fringe of autumn, with just the slightest nip in the air. His chest tightened and he swallowed thickly. He tried not to think about it – how this was just the sort of day Andrea would have loved to go riding. He could imagine her beside him, her hat pulled low and her poncho fluttering in the wind.

Don't. She's gone.

He bowed his head. Lately, there seemed to be a bubble trapped in his trachea. Right between his voice box and his ribcage. Lately, there had been lots of pressure behind his eyes.

If he kept it down long enough, maybe it would just ebb away.

A few tears leaked and he wiped them, straightening up in the saddle. He nudged Silver back onto course. Dwight had given him rough directions: head east, look for this tree, look for that house. Dwight had also given him a thinly-disguised look of disgust, which Rick had chosen to ignore... for now.

He slowed Silver to a walk when he reached the neighborhood where Negan was staying. He didn't know if the ex-Savior was still here. If he wasn't – call it a wasted trip.

Maybe not a total waste. The ride had been relaxing, a nice get-away from the pitying gazes of his fellow citizens. Andrea would have approved. You need a little 'me' time, sometimes, she would say.

That fucking bubble reappeared. He swallowed hard, blinking away a stray tear. He had to gasp, raggedly, through his mouth. Sometimes the bubble hurt terribly. But no doctor could alleviate this pain.

He shook his head. He had to keep his eyes peeled. His hand near his gun. Undead could be lurking, and he had no clue how jumpy Negan would be. He knew the big fucker had a rifle.

As he approached the last house on the row, he smelled smoke. This house was set apart from the others and he paced around the side.

A small fire was stoked in a circle of stones, and a pot of water was heating above it. There was his ex-prisoner, kneeling down by a patch of greenery. He thought at first that Negan was planting a garden, but all he saw were a few ratty daisies and a half-dead sunflower.

He opened his mouth to call, but Negan must have heard him. He quickly turned on his heels, a trowel held out before him.

"You'd better back off, you dead fuck, or -" Negan jumped to his feet. His eyes squinted as his lips pushed upwards into a huge, stupid grin. "Well, Jesus Shittin' Christ! It's Rick Motherfuckin' Grimes!"

Rick slid from the horse with an embarrassing lack of grace. His bad knee buckled for a second before he forced it steady.

"What are you doing here? Change your mind about locking me up? Come out here to kill off your loose ends?"

Rick thought he detected a hint of hope in Negan's voice. He shook his head, both at the notion, and at the fact the big bastard was practically wiggling like a puppy at the sight of him. Maybe Annie was right about this being a bad idea.

"No. I'm doing what I said I would. Bringing you supplies," he said gruffly, gesturing towards the saddlebags. "Consider it your monthly tribute..."

"Cute." Negan scratched at his beard. It wasn't prison-level stages yet, but it was getting there. "And real fuckin' appreciated. Uh...how'd you find me?"

"Dwight told me where you headed. Took a chance you'd still be here."

"For now I am." Negan's eyes narrowed. "You still keeping that little cockroach around?"

Rick answered that glare with his own – the Motherfucking Rick Grimes death stare.

"Fine, fine. Do what you want. Rick knows best." Negan huffed a breath. "You wanna tie her up over here?"

"She won't go far." Silver wasn't very adventurous. "Just help me carry this stuff."

Together, they unbuckled the bags and headed towards the rundown house Negan was apparently calling home.

"I brought you a razor too." Rick said. He'd felt a little foolish when he'd thrown the shaving implements in the bag. He considered it an unspoken thanks for Negan's positive actions in the past few months. Unspoken – because it still burned his throat to give Negan any sort of compliment.

"That is fucking awesome of you." Negan nudged the door open with his foot. "Even though I'm rocking the shit out of this hobo look."

Rick frowned as they entered. Speaking of hobo...

Negan appeared to have made his home in the large foyer, and it was a mess. His sleeping pallet was a disheveled heap of blankets, his leather coat folded up as a pillow. There was stacks of shit everywhere.

A stack of dirty pots and pans.

Canned food strewn along one wall. Most empty, and some not, one tipped over and spilling creamed corn on the floor.

Dead flies all over the windowsill. An array of half-melted candles (with dead flies embedded in the cooled wax.)

A messy stack of firewood and twigs.

Wood dust and dirt and dead leaves all over the floor, while a broom sat propped against the wall in mockery.

In the corner near the pallet, was a pile of tissues that Rick was sure hadn't been used to blow Negan's nose.

The smell wasn't exactly great either.

Negan shuffled his feet, knocking even more dirt onto the floor. "Sorry. Uh...it's a bit fucking disgusting. My wives used to be the housekeepers. Especially Sherry...she'd kill me if she saw this place."

Rick cringed at the name.

"But she was a psycho bitch, so... yeah." Negan went silent, setting down the saddlebag and crouching to open it.

Rick tried not to think about that, nor about how untidy his own house had become over the past few weeks. He wasn't quite at this level of not giving a shit. He looked for the one thing Negan wouldn't just toss around – the mangled remains of Lucille. He didn't see her – it – anywhere.

"Aww, Rick, you're fucking spoiling me." Negan extracted cans of food, a few bags of dried beans and rice, bullets, matches and a bag full of travel-sized toiletries. He should have packed a bottle of bleach for this pig-sty.

The room wasn't the only unkempt thing. As Negan set the supplies into yet another messy pile, strands of his black hair fell onto his forehead, another sticking upwardly awry. His t-shirt wasn't the impeccable white Rick was used to seeing. His former nemesis was practically shabby. Negan rose from his crouched position with a little groan.

"Think I said it before, but fuck. Crouching. Murder on the knees." An evil little smirk played the large man's lips. "Guess you know all about that."

"My knee would have been fine....if I'd let you bleed out on the ground."

"Maybe you should have. Doesn't seem like it was a great trade-off."

Rick narrowed his eyes. The smirk eased off Negan's mouth, and his dark eyes were unreadable. Rick was noticing things – how the dingy t-shirt hung looser off Negan's shoulders, how his collarbones seemed more prominent, and above the beard there was a subtle hollowness to his cheeks. His release from captivity didn't seem to be agreeing with him.

"Are you doing all right out here? Are you eating enough?" Now that no one is handing you shit on a silver platter?

"Oh, I'm doing fuckin' fantabulous!" The reply was so bright Rick was sure it was utterly sarcastic, but when Negan paired it with that cheerful grin, it was hard to tell.

"Uh-huh."

"You brought me more pork n' beans...I'm almost sporting the world's biggest woody right about now." The nearly-rabid look Negan shot the canned food said it all. The bastard was not doing well.

It couldn't be helped, though. Jailing him again was unacceptable. All Rick could do was supply the bare minimum and leave Negan to his own devices. He didn't even need to do that, but he felt obliged. He'd promised.

Here I am, willingly forking over shit to this guy now.

But the tables had turned. Negan wasn't taking from him as a greedy tyrant – Negan was a fucking beggar accepting meager charity.

Rick wouldn't lord it over him, though. He could appreciate Negan's humbleness. At least the man had admitted he was wrong – not that it changed the past...but it was something. And as obnoxious as Negan could be – Rick found his company to be... refreshing. Negan didn't view him in the same way others did. He knew the dark part of Rick, but he didn't judge it. He was too much a devil to judge the sins of others. He just simply saw Rick... for Rick.

It was nice, for a while, until he rode back through the gates of town – to be able to drop his pretenses.

He sighed. Maybe he'd break for lunch on the way back. Prolong his return just a bit. He began to hobble towards the door.

"What happened to your badass cane?" Negan asked, following with the empty saddlebag.

His new cane was plain wood and tailored for someone shorter than him. A woman, maybe.

"Lost it when the Walker herd broke in. Carl sent me a note, he's making some kind of quote-unquote badass one for me at the Hilltop. Should be done soon."

"He called it badass too?" Negan was wiggling all puppy-like again. "How's he doing?"

"Fine," Rick said shortly. That deflated Negan's stupid enthusiasm. The large man was silent again as they went outside.

"I'll be back in a few weeks with your shit." He paused, giving the flower garden a critical look. It was definitely a memorial of some sort. The ramshackle cross seemed to say 'Duh, Captain Obvious.'

"Thanks. I really do appreciate it. Hell, the pork n' beans and the razor alone deserve an epic, slobbery knob-job."

Rick never knew what to say to those weird come-ons, and he was never entirely sure if Negan was joking either. He ignored it as usual.

The memorial, if that's what it was, was a place Negan must linger. The grass in front of it was trampled flat and worn to the earth in spots.

"Um..." Negan rubbed the back of his neck. "That's uh... where I buried her."

"The bat?" Rick tried to keep the disdain from his voice. Negan and that stupid bat. Of course he would bury it.

"Well yeah...but it wasn't just for her." A soft cough escaped the large man, and he squinted his eyes. "For uh...for um...my real Lucille. Because I didn't get to bury her..."

The Captain Obvious brick knocked him right over the head. Lucille. Worst thing I ever did was leave my wife to rot. The rabid attachment to the baseball bat. The lunatic rages whenever 'she' was disrespected. She's the only bitch I ever truly loved.

He imagined how he might have been...back in his dark days...with Lori. The phone. The phantom voice. What he might have done if someone had tried to wrest that phone away from him.

No. I don't want to think about this!

Goddamn Negan! Why did he always manage to mindfuck him somehow?

Unwanted images flooded his head. Running up a hill, with Carl ahead of him. 'Don't look back. Don't look back.' Lori, gunned down behind them. Lori and Judith. Left behind.

Rotting.

She's a pile of dry bones rotting on a fucking floor...my wife. Because of me.

He wasn't sure what compelled the words to trip from his mouth. Negan was staring at the grave, his shoulders slumped, and something dead and lost clouding his eyes. Rick had seen that look in the mirror. He suddenly beheld the obnoxious smiles and the bright booming glimmer of Negan's voice in a new fashion. A cover-up, a shield. That's all they were.

"I never got to bury my wife, either, Negan."

The brown eyes snapped to his. Negan's eyebrows furrowed quizzically.

"Not..." Andrea. He couldn't say her name. The bubble swelled inside his chest and his eyes burned. "...My first wife. Lori. C-C-Carl's... Carl's mother. We were running from a madman. We couldn't stop...we had to leave her." He took a ragged breath.

Negan nodded, staring down at Lucille's crude memorial.

A painful silence stretched between them. The bubble swelled like a water balloon. And it was moving upwards, like a surge of vomit. Panic gripped him. He swallowed hard, trying to force it down. He had to get out of here. Blinking hard and blurry-eyed, he looked around for Silver.

"Rick..." Negan's voice was so soft he barely recognized it. He jerked his head back towards the man in surprise, even more startled to see wetness pooling under the weary brown eyes. Negan bit his lip. "Do you need a hug?"

Silence again. Rick's body froze, except his damnable knee. It buckled and he forced it straight.

"Do you need a hug?" Now Negan's voice had a noticeable waver. "Because I could really fucking use one."

Rick gripped his cane hard.

Negan's face fell into that stupid look - parted lips and wide eyes – that childish visage he took on whenever Rick chastised him for his idiotic ways. Rick opened his mouth to again reprimand him, to say – 'Of course not, of course I don't want a fucking hug!'

But something in his aching heart propelled him forward into the opening embrace - or maybe it was just his knee caving again. Negan scooped him up against his broad chest. Rick blanched for one second, before sinking as if into the warmest of pillows, with the thud-thud of a pounding heart singing a lullaby.

He tentatively wrapped his arms around the other – more to support his bad leg than anything – his hand sliding over hard muscle and a ladder of prominent ribs.

Maybe he was the foolish fly submitting to the spider's trap, but the moment Negan's hand dropped to his back and rubbed softly – just the lightest human...humane... touch – he didn't care.

He pressed his head against this warm breathing body, this body who understood. The tidal wave of grief spilled over the breakers of his eyes, and that swelled bubble exploded into sobs. He tried to stifle them with teeth sunk into his lip, but his body shook from the force of it.

"I know," Negan rasped. "It hurts. It hurts so fucking goddamn bad."

Damn the big fucker for instigating the flood of tears! And a flood it was. Levies broke. The sounds that came from him were horrible, poison – and he felt ashamed. Again, Rick tried to stifle this weakness, but then over his own sobs he heard grief in another voice, just as wounded, just as drowned in long-simmering pain. Negan was crying too.

The shame melted away, and he gave into the racking sobs, the tears that burnt like fire.

Negan had said they would never share a meal, nor their deepest darkest secrets...but this was closer. This was a true passing of knowledge.

His knee began to quake under the weight of standing thus. He forced it straight, ignoring the pain. His arms tightened. Just hold on. Just let go.

Finally, his sobs ebbed to a few hoarse gasps, and died into fine quivers echoing through his body. Negan gave one last choked hiccup, and a shaky sigh. Still, Rick was afraid to let go, to see where this left them.

Negan's arms began to loosen, and his voice rumbled through his chest to Rick's, sounding thick as honey. "You might want to let go now. I'm starting to get an erection."

Oh, for fuck's -

Rick let go, tottering so abruptly he nearly toppled into Lucille's cross. Negan pulled him upright and Rick steadied his cane under his palm.

They caught sight of the mess of each other's faces. Twins of red, swollen eyes and scarlet cheeks, beards wet with tears and snot.

Starting to get an erection -

Rick bent double – and began to laugh. Huge laughter that killed his ribs and cleansed the toxins from his chest. Negan joined in, and his laugh was the sort that added gasoline on the fire of hilarity. Infectious. Rick wound up on the ground when his knee gave, gasping for air under the sunflower. Now he was really sore, his leg aching and his eyes raw and his ribs throbbing...but... it felt good.

"Are you...fucking..." Negan was still chuckling as he caught his breath, "...ok...old man?"

"Shut up..." Rick grimaced, rubbing at his ribs. "You're older than me, Grandpa."

Negan reached a hand down, but Rick waved it away, climbing painfully to his feet. He accepted his cane as Negan shoved it into his hand.

"Shit, I never thought I'd see the fucking day. Rick Grimes...laughing."

"Oh, I laugh. I've just never found you amusing."

"And how was your first time with me?"

Rick decided to ignore that one. He cleared his throat, wiping his coat sleeve over his wet cheeks. Negan pulled up his dingy shirt, getting it dirtier still as he scrubbed at his own face.

Rick squinted at the sun. He still had plenty of daylight left. And Silver was happily grazing on the house's patchy lawn. He approached her, opening the smallest saddlebag, one they hadn't touched. "I brought a sandwich for my lunch. I don't think I'll finish it all. You hungry?"

He knew what Negan was really hungry for. No, not that. It was so obvious, even as the man's eyes lit up, grasping onto the delay of his lonely solitude.

"I am fucking famished. It was a lot of hard work planting those fuckin' flowers today. Those white ones there."

"They're called daisies."

"Yeah, those things."

"How about we eat by the fire?" Rick didn't really want to go back into Negan's pig-sty. The big man nodded, and headed into the dump, returning with two mesh chairs.

"Need a tissue?" A handful of white was extended to him.

Rick shuddered. "No fucking way."

Negan shrugged, blew his nose, and threw it into the fire. They sat, and Rick split the large sub down the middle.

While they ate, Rick offered a grudging tidbit or two. How Alexandria was starting to come back together. How Carl was doing at the Hilltop, helping to rebuild and planning his future as a master blacksmith. He didn't give much, but he knew Negan appreciated it all the same.

Negan told him how he'd eaten a dog and still felt bad about it, how he'd gotten the shits from ‘a motherfucking piece of shit can of Dinty motherfuckin' Moore‘ and how he'd found another baseball bat but hadn't kept it. Rick raised an eyebrow to that.

"It wasn't the same. Didn't feel right." Negan shrugged.

"I guess not."

It also didn't feel quite right...but Rick believed him. He sighed inwardly. Negan was getting his way, after all. The wily mind-fucking fucker. The trust was building between them.

He threw the parchment paper wrapping his sandwich into the fire, brushing crumbs off his hands. Negan did the same, letting out a satisfied belch.

"Thanks, Rick. Fuck, it's been a while since I've had something fresh like that. You know... I'm starting to miss prison. That fresh bread you brought me every now and then? Fucking awesome. Also, you cleaning my shit bucket."

"I don't miss your shit bucket." Rick gave a half-smile.

"Yeah, me neither. I have a shit hole now." Negan chuckled. "And I don't mean the house."

"Maybe I'll bring a maid next time." Rick rolled his eyes, pushing to his feet. "It's time I head off. You should be good for the next few weeks."

"You can't hang out a while longer? I promise, that's not a sexual proposition, although at this point, your bony ass is looking mighty tempting."

"No, now I think it's definitely my cue to leave. If I head back now, even if I hit a delay, I'll make it home before dark."

"You want me to come along? In case you run into trouble?"

"Now you're insulting me. This 'papaw cripple' still has some fight left in him." If Negan was thinking of his ass now, he didn't want to imagine the sordid thoughts the big bastard would have riding horseback with him. "Besides, you aren't to go near Alexandria, Negan... I mean it."

Negan bowed his head, muttering. "Yeah. I know." He snorted. "The rules keep me alive."

Whatever that meant. As long as he understood. Rick clambered atop Silver with a stifled grunt. It looked like an afternoon rain was gathering on the horizon. He almost wanted to stay, here in this commiserating bubble outside his empty, wifeless home. Here, where he had laughed until his ribs hurt, for the first time in a long time. Here, where he was understood.

He looked down at Negan's hopeful eyes. No, he'd better not. Negan would start to think he actually liked him, and that wouldn't do.

"You let me know if you need me to take care of your cockroach problem, huh?" There was that insufferable Negan-grin, and then the bastard gave Silver a smack on the rump. Rick yelped as she startled forward.

"Asshole. That just pushed your supplies back another week. Better make that food last!"

"Sure, sure. See ya, Prick." Negan gave an overly animated wave goodbye.

"See you, Negan." And Rick made his way back home, already pushing Negan's next supply drop ahead of schedule in his mind.

After all, there was no way those pork n' beans were going to last Negan a whole three weeks. He'd have to come back much sooner.

Maybe two weeks.

Maybe one at the most.

[alishbakhanus]

26 gorgeous wedding ideas that will completely amaze your guests

Wedding plans may be short-lived for some couples, but sometimes a little extra time for planning is not bad. Wedding trends come and go, but there is one tried and tested style that remains somewhat timeless – country. The word “country” can mean many things to many people, as this is exactly what will translate to your wedding vision? To refine your search, we’ve put together some of the best rustic wedding ideas from real couples that will inspire your own ceremony and reception. Your decision to go to the country can help communicate everything from wedding shower ideas to your honeymoon!

The easiest way to ensure your big day is filled with country spirit is to place it in the bridal wedding venue. But if the location of the barn is impossible, do not despair. You do not need a family farm to create a charming wedding. Haystack seats, lights with lights for masonry and other small details are sure to give you the mood. And let the season affect the decor. Autumn wedding cakes, topped with autumn flowers or apples, are sure to make guests suffocate. No matter where and when you spend the romance, a country wedding is a place where you show off your love for everything rustic and vintage in scenery and style.

How cute is that

Have you ever seen a more perfect wedding cake than this one? We not only go down over the tight-fitting chocolate trim, but the floral decorations (especially sunflowers) only enhance the elegant coziness of the confectionery vibration. Let’s not write a wooden cake stand that complements the coloring of the cake like nothing else.

Add seedlings of color to the barn

Yes, the perfect barn really does exist! This one is at Hammer Sky Vineyards in California. A festive garland of honeycombs in the color palette of the wedding – all that this barn should be ready for the party (well, a ladybug at a party in a ladybug won’t hurt!).

In a good way

Before embarking on your married life with your new husband, allow your loved ones to lay any wedding bills in a vintage suitcase at the reception. Mark the area with a small “map” sign obtained from pieces of heart-shaped burlap.

No rain on my parade

The most ingenious contrasting vase substitute? Mini rain boots that can be used as table decorations for guests, or as an addition to the decor. And you know what they say: rain on your wedding day means good luck. So whatever the weather, let it be a barely noticeable nod to your future.

Fun and festive on the farm

Keep the jewelry simple! Straw bales, draped with cloth or cloth napkins, loose compositions with bright flowers and holiday honeycombs – all you need to start the party.

Message in a bottle

Standard books for wedding guests have brought a little recipe to the pass, with more relatives looking for creative alternatives. Enter a message in the route from the bottles, which can double as a newly decorated house even after the wedding day. Guests have the opportunity to write down their wishes, but this format makes it more enjoyable.

A trip for life

Any young wedding party attendees to walk down the aisle, seek the help of a harbinger to pull them in the village carriage and make sure they still have a radiant moment. The teddy bear with the streamer “Here comes the bride” makes the setting even more convenient for the wedding.

No turning around

Say “I” on your family’s farm? Especially ideal for autumn weddings, the corn maze with decorative hay entrance will delight guests of all ages. Whether it’s the main entertainment during a cocktail hour or you even plan to exchange vows in front of the cornfield itself, nothing can achieve that.

Nature is done

A mason’s jar, pieces of wood, twine and lace: This central part has all the elements needed for a rustic chic wedding. Also, a combo of shorter embellishments means guests can still get confused from behind the table, without any coordinators interfering with their gaze.

Pop out fresh

Bring in a rustic fair atmosphere the old-fashioned popcorn bar. Offer balls with popcorn as well as fresh nipples with various condiments for guests to snack on before taking. You can also send friends and relatives home with an extra bag – because no one can resist an edible wedding service.

Bee mine

Thank you to the wedding guests for coming with an exciting sweet treat – tiny pots of local honey. To ensure that the gifts for the house merge with an attractive village wedding, however, display them on pedestals from village boxes.

Pastoral perfection

The blanket is covered with hay bales, umbrellas, yellow streamers and horses?! It couldn’t be more perfect, especially with the natural passage of dirt and the tree-bound promises.

Circle up

Half a circle of hay bales surround the village altar Saturated with burlap and wooden vines creates an intimate place of rite in the open air – each has a beautiful view of the future bride and groom. This pair covered bales of hay with pieces of old lace and embroidered tablecloths of their grandmothers and aunts to create comfortable places for guests.

I take off my hat

Of course, the flower girl needs to throw the petals out of the cowboy hat while the wearer of the ring gets dressed. Cowboy boots are also a must for both mini wedding participants in addition to colorful accessories.

Love potion

Entertainment click when you have an outdoor beer bar so guests can serve themselves as at this wedding on the ranch, where the groom’s homemade beer was for everyone who could enjoy. Use the labels on the board to give everyone a head up on what kvass they’re sipping, and instead of beer glasses you need to have Mason jars.

Under your spell

The letters of the sketches, hung under lanterns, announce you’re LOVE on this barn wedding, which is magical and simple. It’s also an amazing background photo for guests that can be posted and tagged along with the wedding hashtag.

Happy trails

Give your loved ones a healthy snack with a homemade trail mix bar stocked with nuts, popcorn, pretzels, chocolates and more to fill cellophane bags. For maximum edge work, use barrel sets as the base of the station.

Candy Land

A similarity may be the range of vintage dressers and tables under the wood dessert buffet for each type of sweet tooth. Fill pharmacy jars with candy, top pie stands, wells, pies and layered trays with paws. Use one surface for strokes and lemonade to constantly moisturize guests while dancing under the stars.

Initial exposure

Bring gorgeous bales of hay to the wedding farm to an impressive decor with a flower monogram for Mr. and Mrs.

Site sweet

Lay the groundwork for a festive show, using a wheelbarrow full of soil and seed packs, perfect for an intimate wedding in an apple orchard. Support the hand sign on the rake and put a couple of other farm implements for extra village vibration.

Mix and match

A village wedding in a family barn is the perfect place to overcome the official rules of sitting at a wedding. Mix and match the design and color of the chairs for a home feel; maintain a style, such as back stairs or size, to be purposefully eclectic. Try also to give your dishes the same discrepancy.

Vintage threads

Don’t let Aunt Mae get into the unprepared for the plumbing that she will definitely feel watching you say “I will”. Assemble simple and embroidered porches – anyone before the competition, anyone? – And set a small basket for guests to capture their upcoming “tears of joy”, as in this composition, seen on 100 layers of cake.

Mood

Built-in window frames create an attractive focus for the altar when hanging from a rustic wooden structure. The simple seat installation also looks incredible with the beautiful stretch marks and colors that work in the aisle.

Bar None

Cultivated wood is the main product, and this village bar from Archive Rental proves that it can be raised from a pile of rubbish to style stars. A garland from Chloe + Mint adds country chic. Aside from the dance floor, you can expect it to be the most popular venue.

Farm to become

Who needs fancy floral centerpieces when you can fill rustic wooden boxes with lush farm generosity? As for the dinner menu itself, bonus points for serving any dish on a fresh farm.

Jarring experience

There is no more dreamy way to get married than standing under a tree filled with Masonic pendants hanging from candlesticks, especially at dusk. Such a décor scheme makes a huge statement without spending too much budget on the wedding.

Courtesy: best banquet halls in Lahore

[talesofmundanemagic]

Gertie gets her license

Gertie looked up at the entrance to the Skyline stadium. Normally, when she was in the sports arena of the magical city above the clouds, it was to see a game of basketball with virtually no limits on magic, or a gladiator battle (with safety spells implemented and a healer present), or a dragon presentation.

This time, all the bleachers had been pushed back into the walls, and the floor was lined with little sound-proof cubicles. Inside each was a mini kitchen set up via magic, and a proctor waiting for their examinee.

It was the day of the Enchantment Apprenticeship License Exam.

The exam was an international event, spanning across more than seventy locations throughout the twenty countries that recognized the exam as a fitting qualification for an apprenticeship. All over the world, hopefuls were taking the test that Gertie was about to embark on.

Gertie checked herself in for the afternoon test block she had signed up for. It was right after the lunch break in the test schedule - there was no way she was risking the license she’d been working towards for the last two years on a cranky proctor who was daydreaming of macaroni and cheese.

The man at the sign-in table took her cellphone and backpack to be locked away and gave her her assigned cubicle number. Gertie thanked him, took a deep breath, and descended the stairs to find her testing spot.

She had stored plenty of power in her keychain accessories, practiced her planned enchantment hundreds of times, and wore her lucky cloche hat. It wasn’t magical - that wasn’t allowed in exams - but Gertie always did well on tests when she wore it. She was ready, she told herself. She would be fine.

“Miss Mallon?” asked the woman standing in her assigned cubicle with a clipboard.

Gertie nodded.

“I’m going to scan you for magical objects.” She held up a wand to do so.

“I have my keychains, for power, since I’m not a witch,” Gertie said, pulling them out for the proctor to see. She had written this on her application, so it wasn’t a surprise.

“Set them down there.” The proctor nodded to the table where a whole slew of potion ingredients sat.

Gertie did so.

The proctor took her wand and did a quick scan from the floor, over Gertie’s left shoulder, head, right shoulder, and back to the ground.

She then waved the wand over Gertie’s keychains, testing them for any enchantments as well.

“Looks good. Let’s get started.”

Gertie picked up her keychains again and put them back into her pocket.

Her proctor read from a clipboard. “Your self-selected enchantment is the Floating Bag. We have provided you with everything you will need. You have an hour and a half to complete your enchantment. Begin.”

Gertie went straight to the stack of equipment in the corner. She chose a cast iron cauldron that was the same size she’d practiced with in her dorm room. She put it on the stove and cranked the heat to medium.

A bottle of cloud extract was sitting, tall and with a no-drip spout, on the back corner of the table laden with ingredients. Gertie picked it up and coated the bottom of her cauldron with the wispy white gel. Next, she measured out the moonflower pollen, according to the recipe she had memorized, and put it in the extract to sizzle.

While that was going, she started chopping, skinning, and grinding everything she needed. Gertie had found the electric mixer and was whipping up cream from winged cows when disaster struck.

The pollen in the cauldron started popping.

Gertie dropped the bowl of whipped cream onto the table and stared at the pollen that was jumping out of the cauldron. What was going on? She put a splatter screen over the top of the cauldron to keep the pollen from escaping, and picked up the jar she had measured from.

She felt her ears roaring as she stared at it blankly.

Moonflower pollen, aged ten years, the label read. Ten years.

She had been practicing with five.

The pollen popped so high the splatter guard jumped before settling back.

She glanced up. The proctor was taking notes, frowning.

Gertie grit her teeth until her head hurt. She could fix this. She didn’t know much about creating new spells, so she wouldn’t be able to change the actual incantation to suit this new recipe. But maybe she could add something that would counteract the effects of the extra aging.

The test had provided her with more ingredients than she needed, to throw her off in case she hadn’t memorized the right recipe. Maybe something they had given her would actually help.

Gertie glanced over the plethora of ingredients. Snake venom, no. Pie crust, what would that even-? Rice? Yes! Plain old rice! A common ingredient in underwater potions, it normally would do the exact opposite of what Gertie’s enchantment needed.

But normally, she would have used the right pollen.

Carefully, after triple-checking the label, Gertie measured out the proper amount of rice to counteract the aging of the pollen and poured it into the pot.

She turned up the heat and added the rest of the ingredients.

Gertie left her potion to boil and turned to chop up the last item - lavender.

After that was done, there was nothing to do but wait. Well, wait and clean up the space. That was what the provided sink was for, after all.

Once the chopping boards, bowls, knives, and peeler were all clean, the timer rang.

The next step was to soak the bag that she was enchanting in the potion.

But before she did that, Gertie sprinkled the lavender into the mix. The aroma of the herb filled the cubicle, chasing away the odd scent of burnt pollen and silkworm saliva. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Gertie prefered the smell of her enchantments to not render the objects unusable.

Gertie killed the heat on the stove and dropped her bag in.

She stirred it into the potion with a wooden spoon, drawing power from her keychains as she spoke her spell clearly, since the proctor would grade on pronunciation.

The potion glowed a clear and brilliant green. Perfect.

Gertie used the spoon to fish the bag out of the potion.

There was one last step. Gertie took a deep breath. She used this specific spell every morning when she dried her hair after getting out of the shower. There was nothing to be nervous about, and yet her heart beat so rapidly she thought it would stall.

“Dry,” she commanded in the magical language of Gnaang, flicking the bag and sending the potion flying into the sink, coating it green.

Gertie quickly set the nozzle to rinse the basin, and then held out the dry cloth bag for the proctor to inspect.

The proctor looked at her watch.

“Twenty-six minutes early,” she said, taking note. “But you didn’t wait for it to dry naturally-”

“I’ve tried letting it, like the recipe says,” Gertie quickly said. “I can just barely do it under the time limit. But I had to try using the drying spell, just to see, and it works! The bag still works.”

The proctor looked over her glasses at Gertie. “And why does it work?”

Gertie took a deep breath to keep herself from rambling. “Because the spell imbues the power from the potion into the bag itself, in this case,” Gertie said. “If the potion coating the bag was necessary for peak performance, it would have to be air dried.”

“Correct.” The proctor wrote down some notes. “Now, let’s see if it works. I noticed your mistake with the pollen, but the rice was clever. It should have helped.”

The proctor took the bag and said, “Float,” in Gnaang, releasing the bag in midair. It hung there, as if it had been placed on a table.

The proctor took a step to the left and the bag followed. To the right, the same thing. She started walking away, and the bag floated after her.

The proctor nodded thoughtfully, taking down notes. “You still didn’t follow the recipe, I’m afraid,” she said.

Gertie’s heart fell. Surely her final score would be impacted for not following the exact steps in the approved recipe.

“We both normally get a fifteen minute break before the next part of the test. However, that would be at the end of the hour and a half, which there is still twenty minutes of. Would you like to wait a full thirty minutes or...?”

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” Gertie admitted, anxious to get on with the next part of the test.

The proctor smiled. “Fifteen minutes then.”

Gertie found the bathroom. Her hands shook as she washed them.

One down, one to go.

She returned to her cubicle and sipped water until the proctor returned.

“Alright. Your first enchantment you were able to practice. This one, you have not. We’ve given you all new ingredients.” The proctor gestured to the table. There was no over-aged pollen in sight. “Follow the instructions, use your intuition, and you will hopefully be fine. You have one hour. Good luck.”

She handed Gertie a piece of paper.

Glowing Orchid Encased in Glass, was the recipe title. Sure enough, a beautiful purple orchid sat in a pot in the corner of the mini kitchen’s counter.

Not a very creative recipe name, Gertie thought.

Then she glanced down at the three separate sections of the recipe.

“Balls,” Gertie muttered, and grabbed three separate cauldrons from the corner. All three went on the heat.

She only had an hour and a half to make three different potions? It was madness.

Even more ridiculous was that they didn’t give her the whole recipe. They gave her bits and pieces, and she needed to rely on her potion know-how to complete the recipe.

The first thing under the title was Step 1: Make a coolant, with a list of ingredients and their measurements.

Gertie remembered the word coolant. She had spent a lot of her time watching various potions videos online to try to prepare.

Coolants are the easiest potions in the world! an online potion maker had proclaimed. You just put all your ingredients in the pot, put the lid on, and boil it for thirty minutes until everything’s combined. Then you shove it in the fridge to cool it down and it’s ready!

Gertie measured out all of the coolant’s ingredients and threw them in the cauldron on the back burner of the stove and put the lid on. She set a timer for thirty minutes, and let it do its own thing.

Step 2: Combine the following ingredients to make the clear syrup base for the luminance potion.

This was the potion that would make the orchid glow. Gertie racked her brain - potions that emitted light could be tricky. There were lots of variations, but all needed to be done at a precise temperature to determine what color it would be. Since the recipe specified clear, it meant the lowest of the available temperatures.

Just remember the eight eights, she remembered her potions textbook saying on the subject of potion color. Eighty-eight for black, seventy-eight for purple, sixty-eight for blue, fifty-eight green, forty-eight for for yellow, thirty-eight for orange, twenty-eight for red, eighteen for clear.

Gertie took a deep breath and grinned in relief.

She measured tiny crystals of lightning salt into a cup to pour into the final cauldron and an equal amount of starfruit seeds. She added the required teaspoon of moonshade - a sticky golden syrup - and filled the rest of the cauldron with water.

She stirred it diligently, checking on the nearby coolant with eyes only. She had to keep the glowing potion constantly moving, while checking the temperature on a thermometer and adjusting the stove accordingly to keep it at eighteen degrees.

Finally, the potion for the glow started to thicken and form sparking bubbles.

“Yes!” Gertie fist pumped.

Step 3: When the syrup has begun to bubble, let it boil on the stove for fifteen minutes.

Gertie set a timer for fifteen minutes, and sat down for a moment to catch her breath and read ahead in the recipe.

The fourth step was about adding something to the luminance potion, so Gertie skipped over it.

Step 5: Choose the proper incantation to melt the glass.

Choose the proper…?

Gertie turned the recipe sheet over. On the opposite side was a list of spells. At least they were all in Laux, a language she knew. Of course, this was not a coincidence since she had provided the accredited board with a list of her capabilities when applying to take the test.

Gertie took a deep breath and began translating the spells to the best of her ability. Three she ruled out of being a part of this enchantment altogether - they mentioned eggs and things that weren’t on the ingredients table. One she discovered, upon translating, was for when she had finished brewing the luminance potion. She circled that one for later.

There were three that mentioned glass. One was clearly the end of the enchantment, as it meant the equivalent of “Halt.” The two others were trickier. They were very similar, longer spells, both dealing with the glass. One did have the word for “liquid” in it, so she put a star next to it in the hopes that she was right.

Both timers rang that their potions were ready and Gertie re-read step four.

Step 4: Once the syrup’s bubbles have begun to stack, add one fourth teaspoon of star spider venom and let the potion rest for four minutes.

Gertie stared at the instruction. Venoms were pesky things, very reactive. Usually recipes mentioned not moving the pot, putting on a lid, and using a timer to measure exactly the amount of time it needed to sit.

Gertie checked the clock to see how much time she had left. Twenty minutes. Great.

She returned to the luminance potion. It had boiled so much, it looked like an ambitious bubble bath.

“Bubbles stacking on themselves, check,” Gertie said.

She had no choice but to listen to her intuition, even if it was wrong. She added the final ingredient - the venom of a star spider - and clamped the cauldron’s lid down. She set a timer for four minutes exactly and one for three minutes and fifteen seconds to remind her to come back, and turned her attention to the shards of glass she had been provided with. She needed to magically melt them.

Gertie poured them into the last cauldron she had put to heat on the stove. She spoke the enchantment she had chosen over the glass, and watched as they melted instantly.

“Awesome!” Gertie triumphantly slipped on cauldron mitts, took the mix off the stove and set it next to the provided mold for the final sculpture.

The mold itself was a sphere with a flat bottom, so that the eventual decoration could stand upright. It was made of magically imbued silicone, so it was even more resistant to the heat its contents would bring.

Suddenly the smell of smoke filled the air. Gertie stopped and looked over at the stove.

No, Gertie thought. No no no no no.

The coolant.

She had completely forgotten to take it off the stove and put it in the freezer.

Gertie ran to the stove and looked in the pot. It was crusted black. Nothing was salvageable. She put the entire thing into the sink and ran cold water over it, trying to stop the smoke at the very least.

Gertie stared at the running water, trying to figure a way out. What was she going to do? There was no way she could make a whole new potion. It needed time, not only to combine but to cool. She felt like she had been turned to stone, her heart trying to beat out of her chest.

The three minute and fifteen second timer for the luminance potion rang, and Gertie took a deep breath. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

The proctor made a note, but Gertie didn’t have time to think about her opinion.

Step 6: Remove the luminance potion from the heat and cast the proper incantation that will stabilize it for use.

When the four minute timer rang, Gertie pulled the cauldron off the stove, opened the lid, and spoke the spell she’d circled from the list, the one she hoped would render it stable.

The potion started glowing a solid white color, like she had trapped a star in her cauldron.

Gertie let out a deep breath. That was a very good sign.

She assembled the leftovers of her prepared ingredients that she had made into the first coolant potion. There wasn’t enough to make a whole potion, so a third of the original recipe’s portion would have to do.

She stirred the ingredients together on the stove, trying to force everything to melt as quickly as possible in lieu of it boiling together. When it finally became a thin, watery potion, she took it off the heat and poured it into a metal bowl to suck the heat away. She put the bowl into the freezer, and turned back to deal with the rest of the recipe.

“Five minutes,” the proctor said, checking her timer, a nervous edge to her voice.

Gertie balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. Fine.

She opened the freezer and put her hands on the bowl. She could still feel the heat emanating from the potion.

“Chill,” she said in Laux, feeling the power drain from her keychains and flow through her hands. The temperature in the bowl went down. But it wasn’t cool enough.

“Chill,” she said again, gritting her teeth as she started to feel dizzy from using magic so quickly twice in a row.

Not enough.

“Chill!” she shouted, and the heat vanished from under her hands, nearly numbing them.

She took the bowl out and placed it next to the luminance potion, trying not to lose her balance. The coolant didn’t even slosh, it had thickened so much from the cold.

Gertie pulled over the terracotta pot that the orchid was in. She snipped its stem so that it was short enough to fit inside the mold and, taking a deep breath, dipped the flower into the luminance potion.

As the instructions read, she immediately pulled it out and shoved it into the coolant, hissing as steam flew out from around her hand. Could that be a good thing?

She had to spin the stem around to coat the flower petals completely. Since she’d made only a third of the proper amount, what was left barely covered the bottom of the bowl.

Gertie lifted the orchid free. It glowed with the pure brilliance of a perfectly brewed luminance potion, shifting between the various purples, whites and yellows of the flower that were picked up by the potion.

The proctor smiled and wrote on her clipboard.

Gertie would have danced in place, but she didn’t have time.

She took the glass mixture, still melted and waiting thanks to the spell, and poured a bit of it into the mold, so the orchid would be floating in the middle. She placed the orchid delicately, and managed to pour the rest of the glass in around it. At the last minute, she remembered the final incantation she had singled out - this one mentioning “not wilting”. The heat from the glass seemed to dissipate, leaving the orchid beautifully fresh.

Gertie put down the heavy cauldron and took a moment to pant.

“And halt,” she said in Laux, completing the enchantment.

The glass hardened instantly.

And the proctor’s timer beeped.

Gertie heart caught in her throat. She hadn’t turned out the sculpture. It wasn’t done. She hadn’t finished.

“Take it out of the mold,” the proctor said.

Gertie looked over at her, dumbfounded.

“I’ll mark you off a point for not finishing it in the time. But turn it out. I’m going to grade it.”

Gertie took the quite heavy mold and turned it over. The glass held steady.

She pulled the mold free, peeling it away from the glass. And there it was. Her little “glowing orchid encased in glass.”

It was quite impressive, she had to say. Beautiful even. A good way to end her exam, even if she had failed.

The proctor took a deep breath, as if to calm herself from the excitement of Gertie’s scramble to finish. She hovered around the table, looking at the sculpture from every angle. She pulled a small camera out of her pocket, took a picture of the top of her clipboard and one of the sculpture.

Gertie waited, shifting awkwardly in place. Her head cleared a bit, despite how she had drained herself by spending so much magic.

The proctor checked over her clipboard, wrote some notes, and finally said, “Very good, Miss Mallon. If you just go back to the area you found the sign-in desk, there will also be a sign-out desk. There, they will take your picture and you will receive your license. Your sculpture will be mailed to your registered address in a week’s time. If you have any other questions or concerns-”

“I passed?” Gertie clarified, not believing her ears.

“Yes,” the proctor said. “Of course.”

Gertie thanked her and walked in a daze to the sign-out table. She managed a smile for the photo, and received a printed license within minutes.

Holding it in her hands, reading the words, Apprentice Enchanter, under her name, suddenly made it real.

She whooped, holding the license triumphantly in the air.

Upon receiving her backpack and cell phone, she immediately dialed Bridget. “I did it!” Gertie shouted. She heard different voices cheering from the other side.

“We’re all in your room,” Bridget said, a laugh in her voice. “We have cake and sodas. Get back down here!”

“Awesome!” Gertie said. “I’m on my way!”

She dialed one more number as she headed out of the stadium.

“Demetrius’ Enchanted Hat Emporium, Demetrius speaking,” came a bored voice from the other end.

“D?” Gertie said excitedly.

He paused. “Gertie, tell me you have good news.”

Gertie grinned so hard her face hurt. “I do.”

To her surprise, Demetrius laughed in relief. “I knew you could do it!” he said.

“Thanks,” Gertie said, flattered, but itching to ask a very important question. “So, when can I start as your apprentice? I’ve been looking up different hat enchantments. I was thinking an expandable hat might be a good place to start. I know that top hats are generally the favored model, but to me that just makes it less incredible that you can fit all that stuff in. My choice would definitely be porkpie, or a-”

“Uh, Gertie, I have a customer.”

“I don’t believe you,” Gertie said.

“Just go celebrate. We can talk about all this during your next shift.”

“My last shift stacking boxes,” Gertie shot back.

“Yeah.” The pride was unmistakable in his voice. Demetrius hung up before he could embarrass himself any further.

As Gertie got in the elevator back down to Wespire, her ID was required. Normally, her magical passport filled this purpose.

Not this time.

Gertie dramatically held out her enchanter’s license to the scanner.

Gertrude Mallon, Apprentice Enchanter.

[boldlysinning]

Chapter One: Open Air and Latinum Stars

A Star Trek OC fic, featuring my Ferengi characters through various steps of their childhood following them through the years to early adulthood. Each chapter shifts perspective and takes place a few years after the previous one.

Rating: T for language Word count: 5147 What to expect: Two Ferengi kiddos head out to the market on their own for the first time, because breaking the rules is fun! An overall lighthearted read with a small glimpse into a young girl’s struggle with society’s extreme limitations of her rights, and her painful awareness of it.

Spheina’s father liked his breakfast promptly on the table a half hour before he had to leave for work. For the last six years Spheina had been the one to prepare all the meals, not just breakfast, ever since her mother passed away leaving her as the only female in the house. It was a lot of responsibility for someone so young, starting at age seven to her current age of 13, but she performed it as dutifully (if begrudgingly) as she always had since her mother was alive. Because it took such a large chunk of time to make the meal she had to get up well before both her father and younger brother so everything would be ready in time. When the food was done and her father had showed up to eat she would go to wake her brother, then they would eat together while father studied the day’s stock projections. Usually the two children were still eating when father bid them goodbye and left for the day, leaving Spheina to care for her brother, Druhk, alone. On top of keeping the house in order that included helping him memorize the Rules of Acquisition.

Normally it was a mother’s job to help a boy with his Rules, but Mother wasn’t here and much to Spheina’s dismay her father had refused to remarry. This meant that she had, unfortunately, been forced to adopt the roll of a mother on top of the chores a daughter usually had. Adding housewife to the list, since there was no actual wife in the house now, and that made three hats she was forced to wear. Her head was big of course, but even all this was a tight fit, especially at her age.

It didn’t help it was hard to keep Druhk focused. Six year olds really didn’t enjoy sitting still and quizzing over stuffy old rules day in and day out. Especially when his older sister liked to read ahead and refresh her own knowledge regularly then got impatient when he couldn’t remember. Spheina would get annoyed, Druhk would whine, Spheina would insult, Druhk would whine louder and they’d have to start over. They would only get a little farther before she also tired of the experience and they would pretend to be space pirates instead (Father didn’t need to know that).

This particular morning Spheina had decided to implement a devilish idea she’d been planning for a few days, one that they would only be able to execute once their father left for the stock exchange. Oh, how very clever she felt, and she just knew Druhk would agree. Because he always agreed, a quality she had carefully cultivated over his short life. Father never let her do anything fun, so she would use Druhk as a vehicle to get away with more than she was normally able to. And he was always willing to make mischief with her, bless his scheming little soul. If she couldn’t use her cunning as she was meant to, she’d use him as a means to an end. After all, what else was family for?

With this idea brewing in her head and the table set she scurried to her brother’s room, passing Father in the hallway with barely a “Good morning.” She was just short enough to make it through the door without ducking, even at full sprint. She leapt from the threshold directly onto Druhk’s bed and smothered him in his blankets, cackling loudly. Druhk screeched like he did every morning (you would think he’d be used to this by now) and attempted to fight her off, though compared to her he had the strength of a fly. Spheina picked him up, blankets and all, and deposited him on the floor, prodding him with her foot as he tried to escape the tangle of fabric.

“If you’d get your lazy butt up sooner this wouldn’t happen,” she jeered, snickering as his little hands swatted her legs.

“Why can’t you just wake me up like a normal person!?” he squealed in protest, crawling out of the blankets and giving her a final swat before straightening his pajamas.

“Because I’m not normal and neither are you, grubworm,” she said, giving one of his ears a flick, which caused Druhk to renew his unhappy swatting.

Spheina managed to grab his arms and lift him off the floor enough to carry him, dangling and flailing like a beetle over a stew pot. Druhk attempted to kick her for a short time before he tired of the attack and hung limp, defeated and annoyed. She finally let him down and they finished walking the rest of the way to the table; Father didn’t like seeing Spheina jostle Druhk around so she had to keep their horseplay out of sight. After Spheina had chewed Druhk’s food they ate together with their father in silence. It seemed like ages before Father finally finished his reading and kissed them goodbye, off to work for the rest of the day. Druhk continued to eat and Spheina beamed at him, her plate already clean, sharp teeth bared in excitement to share her plan for the day.

Eventually he noticed her and paused, gaining a look of suspicion, “…You didn’t poison Father, did you?” his voice was as serious as a small child could manage.

“What? No! Where would you even get that idea!” Spheina tried to laugh it off, but she remembered some words said secretly in the heat of anger after Father got rid of an offworld book she had managed to acquire through the bribery of a neighbor boy. What had really pissed her off in the end was that she’d kissed his stupid ugly face for nothing. “No, not that,” she reaffirmed, “If I did that and he died we’d probably end up homeless. I’ll wait till you’re old enough to take care of me to do it.”

Spheina laughed but Druhk did not seem pleased with her joke. He gave her a wary look, “So why are you smiling so creepy, then?”

“Today we’re going to go to the marketplace,” she tried to say matter-of-factly, but her excitement got the better of her and she smiled again.

“Ha ha! Stupid, you can’t go outside alone, you’re a female. And I’m too little to go with you, just you and me,” Druhk shook his head, smiling. The look on his face said something along the lines of ‘You’re so dumb it’s cute’ and Spheina didn’t like it.

“Don’t you ever call me stupid again, dung breath, or I’ll poison you instead!” she said angrily, grabbing one of his lobes and twisting it until he screeched, “I get enough of that crap from Father, I don’t need you doing it, too! You can’t even remember 10 of the Rules of Acquisition and I can remember 100, so just shut up!”

“I’m sorry,” Druhk said, rubbing his mistreated ear, tears brimming in his hazel eyes, “Father tells me not to let you talk like that, about going outside the garden or acquiring things, because females aren’t supposed to. But I know you’re not stupid, Sphee…”

Spheina immediately regretted causing her brother the amount of pain she had, her anger cooled quickly and she pat Druhk’s head and sighed, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I should have known that was Father talking and not you,” she kissed his forehead and wiped the tears from his eyes, “I’m sorry I twisted your lobe. And you’re not stupid either. I couldn’t even read when I was six, so at least you’re farther than I was.”

Druhk sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of him pajama shirt. Spheina made a face, though she tried to repress her innate disgust. Sometimes children could be entirely too gross for her, especially when she was the one always cleaning up after them. This was why she had decided never to have any, not even if a man paid her father a million bars of gold-pressed latinum. Raising her brother had been enough and her father could posture and threaten all he wanted, but she knew even he wouldn’t be that cruel.

“Do you want to go to the marketplace or not?” she pressed, pushing those thoughts of the future aside- despite her young age they twisted her guts up with fear, though she’d never admit it.

With all his hurt passed Druhk gave her an incredulous look, “I still don’t’ know how you’re gonna do that. Soon as someone sees us they’ll make us come home and we’ll get in big trouble.”

“No, see, I found one of Father’s old cloaks, with a hood and everything! I’ll show you.” Spheina bounced from her chair and scurried to her room. Druhk protested loudly behind her as he tried to climb off his chair without help. “Just wait there!” she hollered over her shoulder. Maybe he really was stupid, he acted like he had to be within 5 feet of her every waking moment or he’d die. It was incredibly annoying, especially when she was trying to clean and kept tripping over him playing with his action figures exactly where she needed to step.

She made a direct route for her bare closet, stuffed mostly with old toys Father hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of, and dug around the back beneath the biggest container. The cloak came billowing out, unfurling in such a way that it blocked her line of sight as she turned to hurry back to the dining room. Unable to see anything in front of her for a few moments Spheina missed the little boy as he appeared like an uncloaking starship directly in her path and smacked full force into her. His head rammed sharply right into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to fall back and ball up in a split second of terror as her lungs refused to work.

Thankfully her lungs recovered fairly quickly and she immediately untangled herself from the cloak and sat up, slamming her fists on the floor, “Damn it, Druhk, I told you to wait!” she shouted, baring her teeth, face flushed crimson red.

Druhk laid curled on the floor, holding his head and moaning pitifully, “Owwiiiee,” was all he managed in return.

“You’re fine! Stop being such a baby,” Spheina grunted. She tossed the cloak onto her bed and proceeded to scoop up her whining brother; she kissed his head where he had been holding his hands and hugged him, “Why didn’t you wait, I was coming right back.”

He clung to her like she’d been gone for a year, “I’m sorry, I don’t like to be alone, Sphee.”

Spheina rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan, “I know, but I was only in the other room!” she gritted her teeth, swaying back and forth to soothe him despite how annoyed she felt, “When you get older I can’t always be around, you know, you need to get used to that.”

Druhk only grumbled into her shoulder, apparently unwilling to concede that someday he’d have to actually go places without her. Spheina rolled her head back and gave a throaty groan of aggravation. She didn’t have time for this, there was only so much time in the day to go out before they risked getting caught by Father. “DO YOU WANT TO GO OUTSIDE OR NOT?” she yelled at the ceiling.

Druhk raised his head sharply and frowned at her, “I’m right here, stop yelling!”

She laughed derisively, resisting the urge to just drop him right on his rear. He’s only six, Spheina, she kept telling herself, You don’t want to be a slug in your next life, so behave. You can beat him up properly when he’s older if he keeps being annoying enough.

“Go pick out what you want to wear today,” she said darkly.

As their eyes locked Druhk must have sensed her patience wearing thin and when she put him down he sprinted from the room to do as he was told. This calmed her down a bit, it pleased her to still see a healthy bit of fear. She was the boss of at least one thing in her life for now and the longer that lasted the happier she’d be. The day he could rightfully tell her to sit down and be quiet was quickly approaching and she was dreading it. Thankfully, that day was not today.

Spheina then proceeded to run to her father’s room. The cloak wouldn’t be enough, she needed to wear clothes underneath as well or one stray breeze would completely blow their cover. His clothes were much bigger than she could reasonably fit into unaltered, so she grabbed a matching outfit and hurried back to her room. There she folded and pinned the extra fabric so that is looked a bit less clownishly huge on her bony frame and did the same with the cloak so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. As she completed the temporary modifications Druhk reappeared in the doorway, struggling to pull his shirt down. The collar had gotten stuck on his wide head and his arms waved wildly in the sleeves, unable to get good purchase. Spheina could hear muffled complaints but didn’t bother to listen as she pulled the shirt down for him. “Not bad, grubworm,” she said as she smoothed down the fabric.

When Druhk didn’t answer she cocked her head and raised a quizzical brow, only to find him staring at the clothes she was dressed in. “You look like a boy!” he cried out, somewhat distressed. She realized he’d never seen her in clothing before, not once in his short life.

“That’s the point, stupid,” Spheina said with a smile. She stood and cupped his face, lifting his chin so that he’d look her in the eye, “Listen carefully, alright, because if we get caught I’ll get into a lot of trouble.” She had to stress that she would be the one punished, not him- Druhk would be too scared to go along with her plan if he thought Father might yell at him. That and she wasn’t looking forward to the verbal lashing she would face if they were found out. Father knew full well Druhk would never break a rule so big and scary and convince Spheina to accompany him. Maybe in some strange alternate universe, but not here, meaning she was obviously the culprit.

“When we’re out there I’m not Sphee and I’m not you’re sister. We’ll get caught if you call me that. We’ve got to play pretend when we’re out there. So we’re going to pretend I’m your uncle. No one should ask our names, but if they do I’m Spad.” Druhk suddenly broke into a fit of giggles, apparently now feeling the intoxicating giddiness of doing something against the rules.

Spheina squished his cheeks and laughed as well, pressing her forehead to his and furrowing her brows mischievously, “Sh, sh! Listen. We’re going to buy a book or two, but you’ve got to do the talking because I can’t fake a man’s voice at all. If someone asks why, you have to tell them I’m sick and can’t talk. Tell them that’s why I have the hood up, too. Not that I’m wearing the hood because I can’t talk, but because I’m sick. Uh, you get it, right?”

“Yes!” Druhk said confidently.

“Good!” Spheina turned, grabbed the cloak, and dramatically twirled it around her shoulders, feeling charged with power as she clasped it in place at her throat. “And the illusion is complete,” she proclaimed, putting the hood up and grinning.

Druhk bounced excitedly and gave her a toothy smile before suddenly squeaking and pulling on the hem of his shirt, “How are we going to buy something? We don’t have any latinum!”

Spheina puffed out her chest and threw back the hood, “I stole some from Father!” she proclaimed proudly, “Not much, just a few slips every so often so he wouldn’t notice- I bet he thought he just miscounted. I hid them in my pillowcase.”

She then proceeded to walk to her bed and turn her pillow up-side down so that the slips of latinum came tumbling out in a clatter. Druhk cried out in amazement and climbed onto the bed, eyes sparkling, “There’s so much!”

“Not really that much- here,” she separated a small pile for him, “count that one and we’ll see how much there really is.”

In the end they came up with 25 slips and Spheina dutifully poured them into her pockets and took Druhk by the hand and led him to the living room, “We can’t stay out too long, I’ve got chores, but it’ll be worth it. You ready?”

“Yes!” Druhk said excitedly, squeezing her hand and taking the lead, tugging her towards the front door.

Spheina felt her confidence slowly wither away the closer they got to the door, and when it slid open she frozen in her tracks. She’d been outside before, of course, but only in the garden flanked by high walls where no one could see her. She hadn’t been out farther than that and sometimes even going to the gate was an intimidating feat. But Druhk had been outside the walls a few times now- sometimes Father took him places and during those times Spheina seethed with jealousy and bitter anger. Those feelings weren’t so much directed at Druhk as they were at her situation in general, he couldn’t help he was the son and got the rights that entailed. Even so, as much as she wanted to escape the cage of her life just for a short while the idea of the world outside was as frightening as it was alluring.

“What’s wrong?” Druhk’s voice broke her out of her frozen state of panic.

She looked at him and smiled nervously, “I’ve never been outside the garden, remember?”

“So? It’s fun out there,” he said, looking perplexed. It must be nice to be so young and innocent. And male. Nary a care in the world about where you could or could not go, because there were very few places you couldn’t go. It was hard not to envy him, but it wasn’t his fault.

“So… I’m… going to look pretty stupid without shoes, but I guess we can say my feet need to breathe as part of my illness. I don’t know, maybe no one will notice if I keep my cloak down. I need to be a sick old man after all,” to avoid more nervous rambling she hunched over and made a grumpy face, jutting out her jaw so her bottom teeth protruded from between her lips. She grunted and squinted her eyes as she leaned in close to Druhk, breathing heavily, “How’s this?”

He shrieked with laughter and pushed her face away, immediately causing her to lose character and laugh as well. Caught up in the absurdity she pushed her fear aside and hurried forward, over the threshold and out into the muggy open air. Stray droplets of rain sprinkled here and there and Spheina turned her face up to meet them as Druhk lead her by the hand to the exit gate at the side of the house. The garden was conquered, next she’d conquer the street, and then the market, some day she’d conquer Ferenginar, too. At least in this moment it felt like she would.

Spheina put up her hood and they exited the gate, only to stop again as Druhk paused and looked around. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t remember how to get to the market,” he replied, looking uncertain.

After admonishments, ear flicks, and a short bout of smacking from both sides the two found someone and Druhk asked directions; they were out one slip because of it, but Spheina knew information wasn’t free. It wasn’t as far as she had thought it would be, but relying entirely on Druhk’s guidance when he was still fairly illiterate was difficult. She dreaded being led somewhere where she might be found out, or to the wrong location again and again until their small window of time had run out. However, the fact that she was outside surrounded by men who weren’t her family was exhilarating. She could have been anywhere, surrounded by anyone, aliens or Ferengi, and it would have felt the same. She liked the feeling of the wet stone under her feet and the sound of chatter and barter. She wished she could be here every day.

It took them some time to find a store which sold books of any kind, and once they arrived they stood outside the door a moment before Spheina realized in cost money to enter. “Robbery,” she hissed, but the Rules of Acquisition were beginning to make more sense.

“How much is it, Druhk?” she whispered.

“Um…”

“Oh, for- Look at the collection slot.”

“UM-”

“URG!” she lifted the rim of the hood slightly so she could get a quick look and found there to be no indication of the price, “Sneaky…” she said with a hint of admiration.

She pulled a slip from her pocket and inserted it into the collection box. After waiting a moment and finding the door still firmly in place she inserted another. If it didn’t open after two she wasn’t giving this leech anymore before even seeing the merchandise, they’d find somewhere else. Luckily the door finally slid open and she and Druhk quickly walked inside.

There was a Ferengi sitting behind a circular desk in the middle of the room, all around there were hundreds of books, both Ferengi and offworld, in glass cases with tiny collection boxes below the doors, apparently someone would need to provide a slip to get the case open. The man behind the desk welcomed them but Spheina waved him off and grunted as much like an old man as she could manage. Druhk picked up on the signal effortlessly, “Uh, my uncle just wants to look for a bit.”

“Hmph, take your time,” the man replied, seeming somewhat annoyed at the cold reception.

Spheina aimed to do just that, she went to the nearest bookcase and leaned in close, holding the rime of her hood up so that she could see. She kept her sight low so that she wouldn’t mistakenly lift her head too much and reveal an ear, or straighten her back too much and look a bit too healthy. She moved through the shelves slowly and at one point she caught the proprietor at the desk watching her suspiciously. Given her experience with her father and the boys she tempted for favors from the gate, suspicion was a normal state of being for Ferengi. It made her smile, though she hid it so she didn’t actually merit suspicion.

After about five minutes Druhk began to squirm at her side, apparently getting bored. She prodded his side with a stealthy finger and made him giggle and squirm more. “Patience,” she whispered.

When her eyes returned to the bookshelf they seemed drawn to a familiar spine, it was as if it suddenly leapt out at her now. Without hesitation she took a slip from her pocket and inserted it into the collection box. The glass door of the bookshelf quietly whooshed open and Spheina gently slid the book from between the others. Seeing the title her stomach felt like it was full of fluttering moths. It was the same book, the one her father had gotten rid of- not just the same edition, but the very same volume she had had in her possession. She flipped open the front cover and saw the messy scrawl from the neighbor boy, Thanks for the kiss. She nearly laughed, but held her giddiness in as she closed the book and grabbed Druhk’s hand, tugging it lightly so he’d lead her to the desk.

He did just that and she placed the book on the desk and patted it quickly with a quiet grunt to signify this was the one she wanted. “Ah, a fine volume. Twenty slips,” the man said pleasantly.

Spheina shook her head and leaned down to Druhk, whispering almost inaudibly, “Tell him I know it’s used and I won’t give him any more than seven.”

“Uncle knows it’s used and won’t give you any more than seven,” Druhk repeated resolutely.

“Fifteen,” the man countered, firm but still pleasant.

Spheina snorted and whispered to Druhk again. “Ten and not a slip more,” Druhk repeated with as intimidating a voice as a child could muster, pointing a finger at the proprietor for emphasis.

The man laughed heartily, “Deal. You’ll make quite a businessman when you’re old enough,” he said to Druhk as Spheina placed ten slips on the desk and picked up the book. She looked at Druhk warmly and pat his head, she was very proud of him, he’d played his part well. She whispered to him once more and he smiled at the man, “Uncle thanks you.”

“Have a nice day,” the man said, sweeping the slips front the table top into his palm as they turned and walked away.

The door remained in place as they stood and waited for it to open. Finally Spheina growled and took two slips from her pocket, placing them in the collection box. Damn, if Druhk ever got his own store (or maybe if things changed and she could own one, a lovely fantasy) they’d have to implement this clever idea. It was pouring outside now and they shuffled a little faster back home, at times the coast was clear of other Ferengi and they ran full tilt, as fast as they could.

When they made it home Spheina could barely contain her joy as they entered the garden. She released Druhk’s hand and threw her hood back, letting the rain drench her face and laughing as they came to the threshold of the door. She unclipped the heavy waterlogged cloak and let it fall to the floor and Druhk came running in behind her, flinging water droplets around as he tried to shake off the rain. Spheina placed the book on one of the tables with decorative sculptures and grabbed her brother, lifted him up, hugged him close. She spun around holding him tight and laughing until her head was light, and he laughed just as breathlessly while he clung to her. Finally they toppled to the floor, dizzy, and Spheina thought she saw stars drifting in front of her eyes as she looked at the ceiling.

They’d done it. She was drunk on the rain and the air and the sound of people and she wouldn’t forget that for a long while. And Druhk had played his part flawlessly, the best little accomplice she could have asked for. She kissed his head and squeezed him in a hug, then sat up and kissed his face until he pushed her away, but his giggling never stopped. She had cleaning to do, the clothes to dry out, the book, latinum and cloak to hide again, lunch and dinner to make, but it all seemed like a lighter burden after their successful adventure.

***

That night Spheina quietly tip-toed through the dark house. Her father was asleep and so was Druhk, but she stealthily slunk into his room and climbed onto his bed. She patted his shoulder gently and whispered to him and he stirred with a quiet groan. She picked him up and he clung to her even while half asleep as she carried him outside. There was a lattice on the opposite side of the house from the gate and after shifting Druhk to her back Spheina climbed it and slipped gingerly onto the roof, careful not to cause the ceiling inside to shift too much and risk waking Father.

She sat down and deposited a sleepy Druhk on her lap, all the while working to wake him. “What? Why are we here?” he whined with a tinge of grouchiness.

“Did you notice it wasn’t raining?” she said, petting his head.

“So?”

“So, look up.”

Druhk rubbed his eyes and turned them skyward where she was already looking. Above them the sky had cleared up enough to see past the nearly permanent ceiling of gray. The stars blazed through the thin wisps of clouds, and oddly they seemed even brighter than she remembered. She glanced down to find Druhk staring with mouth agape; he’d never actually been up late enough to see the stars, especially since the sky was usually thick with clouds. She rested her chin on his head and looked at his awestruck face with affectionate amusement. “Before you were born, when it was just me, I came up here a lot when I was supposed to be asleep,” Spheina said, “Sometimes I’d watch the sun go down, or just look out at the other houses and just wish I could go out there. But now I know that the stars are the only place I could go if I want to do whatever I want.”

“There’re so many,” Druhk said, leaning back and forcing Spheina to lift her chin and glaze up again.

“Do you remember Rule of Acquisition number 75?” she asked, locking in on the stars.

“Um… not really,” he said, sounding ashamed.

“It’s ‘Home is where the heart is, but the stars are made of latinum.’ You’ll get it, don’t worry,” she said, giving his head a reassuring kiss.

“Are they really made of latinum? The stars, I mean,” he asked, clearly amazed by the concept.

“No, I think they’re made of fire or something. I mean if they were really made of latinum they’d all be gone, because we’d have mined them centuries ago.”

Druhk nodded in understanding, “You want to go to the stars? Can you do that?”

“They say I can’t, but I will whether they want me to or not. Someday,” she turned her eyes to the sky again, “The galaxy’s too big and we live too long for me to be stuck on one planet making tubegrubs for Father or some other man forever.”

“I’ll go with you,” Druhk said matter-of-factly, “I bet there’s a lot of profit up there.”

“Yeah. Probably more than we could ever earn. And I like that idea. We’ll go together and make more profit than Father ever did. He’ll see he was wrong. They all will.”

“We’ll be the richest Ferengi in the galaxy!” Druhk exclaimed, his hands balling into fists and lifting towards the sky.

“Definitely!” she said, clasping her hands over Druhk’s fists and grinning, “We’ll make our own home in the stars somewhere, so it’s not too far from the latinum.”

[oflionsandliars]

Drabble 17/04/17

At this point in time, Thomas is recovering from an unsuccessful attempt on his own life. He was in intensive care for a few months due to the extent of the damage that he inflicted on his body. During these months, Francis had been located by the IEC Organisation. After heavy deliberation and debate as to what to do with the offspring of an ex-criminal, and considering the fact that he was potentially dangerous, the IEC decided to send him to live with the ‘Baronex’ Krister/Kristin Bergkvist as a gardener in hopes of helping him feel more settled and creating a safe but controlled environment, one where Francis wouldn’t feel bored or agitated. The IEC decided to implement this as some form of recovery and rehabilitation programme for Francis, and possibly also for Thomas, once he is well enough to leave intensive care. Mx Bergkvist had long retired from the Organisation (despite their protest) due to developing a heart condition which would make their continued service a risk to their long term health. However, they maintained low-key involvement in social rights politics, namely mental health and queer rights movements.

*

Francis Ericsson was leaving the greenhouse, his small wiry arms carrying heavy wooden boxes filled with various plant bulbs. It was a clement day, and the mild midday sun lit up a sliver in his dark, slicked back chestnut hair. He was wearing a handknit sweater which was speckled with dirt, but he seemed to take no notice. Mx Bergkvist watched serenely from their doorway, resting a thin arm on the frame. This was the most peaceful they’d seen their new gardener since his arrival at the estate.

Francis set down the boxes by the stone walkway in the garden. There were mounds of earth in neat rows either sides of the path, arranged by Francis’ expert hands. He picked up a bulb and examined it closely. His quiet face belied his excitement, as he knew that there would be a stunning display of golden privet and yew hedges this time next year. He knelt down and grabbed a hand shovel and started to arrange the bulbs, until a tall silhouette made him flinch. Francis looked up sharply to see who it was, but the bright sunlight momentarily blinded him. He hissed and covered his face with his dirty hands, dropping his hand shovel with a clatter.

“Sorry!” said the voice. It was soft and ambiguous, accented heavily in Polish. “Sorry, dear! Did I startle you?”

Francis waited for his eyes to adjust and then stood up straight. His quiet face had twisted into a frown, most upset that someone had interrupted his peace. He growled and went down to pick up his shovel, hoping to get back to work.

Elius Juwelbaum looked rather taken aback at this. Their greying brown hair was tied back in a  ballerina bun. They were wearing patterned harem pants and a dark red blouse, over which hung a baggy wool cardigan.

“I said I was sorry!” they whined with some insistence, taking this all very personally.

“He’s non-verbal, dear,” Mx Bergkvist said quietly, approaching them with their usual smooth grace. They gave Elius a rather sympathetic smile and put a delicate hand on their shoulder.

“Please don’t take it personally, my love. Oh, where are my manners. Sorry, Ellie. This is my new gardener, Mr. Ericsson. Fiercely intelligent, you see, but not the most talkative.”

“Well that’s no reason for him to be rude,” Elius frowned and fiddled with the clasp of their handbag. “I just wanted to ask him what he was planting. I’m glad to know at least it’s not just the way I was presenting.” “Oh it wouldn’t be that, dear,” Bergkvist chuckled, standing back to watch Francis work, gesturing for Elius to do the same. “You could be wearing a potato sack or nothing but a feather boa and he’d react the exact same way. He needs his space. To put it one way, he doesn’t think along the same lines as most of us do. It’s like we speak a different language to him.”

They both watched as Francis planted a bulb with outstanding precision, pressing the earth over it in a neat little mound before moving swiftly on to the next.

“But,” Elius said, confused, “Aren’t you both Swedish? He still can’t understand you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ellie,” Bergkvist shook their head. “I mean our habits, our gestures. He’s not extremely social. He has his own way of doing things, and when he’s disrupted it can be rather damaging for him. He’s snapped at me before when I disturbed his soil samples… which he decided to leave on the coffee table.”

Bergkvist looked up at Elius, giving them a rather amused, beaky smile. Elius returned the gesture but then sighed, before looking rather concerned.

“But why is he like this? What happened to him?”

“We’re not sure,” Bergkvist pursed their lips, adjusting their straw sun hat. “We know he had it rough as a child, back in Ukraine. No one knows what’s happened since. That is, no one knows much. No one except Schneider.” They gave Elius a sly smile, the sunlight glinting in their watery blue eyes.

“And will he be coming here once he’s recovered?” Elius asked, trying to hide the excitement in their voice. “Maybe he can help, you know, to understand Francis a little better.”

“I don’t see why not,” Bergkvist chuckled, giving Elius’ shoulder a soft squeeze. “Maybe he can stay here for some, ah, rest and recuperation? As part of the recovery process, you know.”

“I can’t think of anywhere better for him, mama Krissi,” Elius grinned, giving Bergkvist’s tiny hand a supportive pat. “You won’t have your hands too full, will you? I’ll still be able to pop around for a chat while you’re looking after the boys?”

“Oh, I’ll definitely need your company,” Krissi sighed. “As much as I enjoy our dear Francis’ company, there’s only so much one can take of one-sided conversations.Now! Come and join me for some tea on the patio, dear. We ought to let Mr Ericsson get on with his work. I’m sure the hedgerows will look marvellous as long as we’re patient!”

[chrismdthings]

leaving it up to you

pairing: chris dixon x reader warning(s): none note: listen to leaving it up to you - george ezra / part one of two / 2,702 words

i walk past the bleak walls of an architect’s un-imagination returning to the venue where we held that very first conversation to see you again, to be your friend, to hold you in my mind

You and Chris first met with skinned knees and bandaged elbows at the age of seven. Him with short blond hair and a yellow kit covered in dirt, and you with pig tails and frilly dresses. You two were the complete opposite from each other growing up, but with every passing year since you were both seven years old, you two were inseparable. 

Throughout life you two were like peas in a pod, brother and sister as many called upon you both. You two spent almost every day together; either it was you attending his youth squad football matches or him sitting through your (boring) hour-long ballet and piano recitals. Your parents would sit and watch as you two played video games together and then tease that you two would end up getting married one day, causing you and Chris to both to scrunch your noses and let out exasperated, “ew!”’s.

When you started university, trying to balance a job and your education, Chris came up with the idea of you two getting a flat together near your university, in the capital of Jersey. It would benefit the both of you. And after a few months of searching and paperwork, it finally happened. Chris helped you box up your old bedroom, and say goodbye to your home to move in with him.

Throughout your four years at Highlands College, you and Chris grew closer than ever before. You two spent every day together; in the mornings when you both arose for breakfast, and then in the afternoons after classes ended for dinner. You would help him around the flat, help him record. He would help you (as much as he could) with homework and then some days you two would take trips back home for the weekend.

Soon enough, with each passing month, your four years were over at uni and you had finally earned your bachelor’s degree in business and marketing. Chris was there every step of the way, from the late nights with papers to graduation when you received the diploma while dressed in a sleek blue robe and hat. You two hugged each other tight when the reception was over with, not only because he was proud of you, but simply because you were now ready for the real world. 

The real world after university was you moving to Southampton to work and eventually start your own business. You would be moving out of the flat within a month to start all over, on your own. It was a plan that had been in the works since your internship the summer before, when the opportunity came, and you didn’t deny it. 

All of the memories and times you and Chris had while together growing up where now over and you were both moving on to bigger and better things.

Years later, you were still in Southampton, once working, but now a higher-up of the company that gave you your first big break. Chris heard it all from your mum as the families were still tight-knit as ever. 

He also heard that you had a new boyfriend. 

From what Chris had heard, your new beau Charlie, was successful; a degree in the psychology field and a high-wage job within his own business, charming, and not to forget, overly-handsome. 

Even when Charlie could have any girl he wanted, he still chose you. And Chris was jealous, not a little, but instead of a lot. Chris himself was still single and dealing with Youtube for a job, and he couldn’t blame the guy. 

Chris would choose you. He would always choose you.

Fingers shaking as he held the smartphone in his hand, Chris wondered how the hell he was really supposed to hold this thing since it was small. He stared at the screen, punching in a number ever-so-often. 

Finally when your name appeared at the top of the screen, he punched it in and the phone began to ring.

He cursed mentally as he brought the phone to his ear. He didn’t plan the conversation ahead of time so he had no clue what to say when you picked up. If you even did.

“Hello?” It was the first time he heard your voice in so long.

His heart was in his throat. “Hey!”

“Chris?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me.” 

"Oh my God, it’s been forever.” He heard you gasp through the speaker. "Oh, Christoph..” 

A chuckle escaped his lips at the name. You were two letters off from his full name, but always settled in Christoph instead. And even though you couldn’t see him, he smiled. “Yeah, it’s me.”

"Well, don’t be so quiet now, lad. How are you?” 

He grinned. “I’m doing quite well.” He said, taking in his surroundings of the bustling street. “I’m actually in Southampton at the moment right now, that’s the reason I decided to call you.”

“Oh, you should have told me you were coming in advance! I could have picked you up or something.” He closed his eyes as you talked. Your voice was much different than the last time he heard it. It was deeper but sounded more professional.

“It’s no problem. I’m here just for a day or so, I’m staying at a hotel.” He said looking up at the building towering above him. He had no idea what floor the room was even on. “I was calling you because, uh.. I was, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch today or something? I’m just kinda here until my mates arrive and I don’t have any plans. That is if you are free, of course.” He scrunched a brow as the words fumbled out of his mouth. 

Idiot, idiot, idiot… he told himself.

When you didn’t reply for a moment, Chris panicked, thinking that you had laughed at his poor attempt and hung up. He glanced at his screen to see that you were still on the line. A second later your voice returned.

“Of course! I’m leaving work early today anyway. Where can we meet up?”

Chris glanced down the street to a small restaurant called Cafe North. He recognized the greenery around the outside along with small patio chairs and tables. He had been there before. “Do you know where Cafe North is?”

“Of course, Christoph.” You laughed. “We ate there before you helped me move into my intern flat.”

“Does that sound okay to you?”

“Of course. I’ll see you there.”

and i arrived there early and as always you swanned in much later as if nothing had ever changed, you nod at me and order your double and mixer to see you again, to be your friend, to hold you in my mind

After a few minutes of waiting on the outside patio, Chris watched as a white BMW rolled into a parking spot just across the street from the cafe. From the table on the patio in which he sat at, he watched as a tall beauty stepped from the car, shutting the door behind her.

She was wearing a blouse and pencil skirt, her long hair shimmering down her shoulders, and sunglasses resting on her face. She was the epitome of power and beauty.

It was you, and boy, have you grown up. 

Chris stood from his seat, nearly weak at his knees, and watched as you crossed the street to him. When your eyes met, you smiled wide and stepped upon the patio and straight into his arms.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you melted against his body. It had been so long since you two talked, since they were in each others presence, since they were able to see and feel each other, and it felt so good to be reunited again.

“I missed you, Christoph.” You said, your voice muffled by his shoulder. You could smell his lightly scented aftershave. “It’s been too long.”

“I know. I missed you too.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you both broke apart. You both shared smiles before sitting down at the table together. “So how has working been treating you all these years?”

You shrugged and sat your purse down next to your chair. “As good as it can, I guess. I’ve been there long enough.” You said with a slight laugh. A waitress came and took your orders for drinks before walking back inside the restaurant seconds later.

“Your mum said that they moved you up a position at your job.” He said. “What are you doing now?” 

“Yeah, they have actually. I moved past accounting manager and up to chief marketing officer.” 

“CMO? That’s huge.” He boasted and there was a sincere smile on your lips. “What do they have you doing?”

“A lot of things, actually. I own the marketing strategy and oversee implementation. Basically, I just try to figure out the company and position our product.” Before Chris could get out a reply, you cut him off on your own. “So what about you Chris? How’s life been treating you since I left?”

Chris shrugged, his shoulders lanky under the loose grey shirt. You noticed his hair was cut shorter on the sides and he kept it nice and fresh, unlike when he would just let it fly whatever way it wanted years ago. However, the smile on his lips was still the same.

“I’ve been doing pretty well. I stay in between Jersey and London mainly. Youtube has become my job now, you could say. I’m always doing something that revolves around it.” 

“Well, what are you doing here now?” You asked. The waitress came back and sat the drinks down on the small coasters, you gave the waitress a smile and quiet thank you before turning back to Chris.

Chris cleared his throat, plucking at the straw in his drink and swirling it around. “I, uh, I’m actually here to play a charity football match, tomorrow.” 

“Really?” The words left your lips like a gasp, but there was a smile on your face like always. He took it as a good sign. “That’s amazing! What is it for?” 

Chris grinned at your excitement. “It’s just an event that some other Youtubers came up with recently. It’s a match for their fans to come in and see us play, and all the earnings are going to the Saints Foundation Charity.” He explained. “And they invited me to come be apart of one of the teams.”

He watched you smile even wider. “Congratulations, Chris! That’s huge!” You exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!” 

“Don’t be too proud yet.” he chuckled. “The match is tomorrow and who knows what the outcome will be.” 

“Oh hell Chris, I’m always proud of you, and you know it. This is certainly a big step from all the Sunday league games, you know.” 

“Yeah, well,” Chris pursed his lips, “we’ll see.” 

"I’m just so happy for you.” You said. “I might have to come see your match for myself too! Is your family in town as well?” You questioned, sipping on your drink.

“They will be. They’re coming in a tonight, actually.” 

You smiled warmly at him. You remembered all of the times you two played football in the garden together growing up and attending his Sunday league matches with his family to watch him play. Seeing him grow and expand past Youtube, even if it was simply for a charity match, brought you happiness. Because Chris was happy. His happiness always made you happy. 

“I’ll have to meet up with them again while they’re here. I haven’t see them since I moved.” Your tone saddened. “I really haven’t seen anyone since I moved here.”

“They miss you though. They understand that you’re busy with work and can hardly catch up. I’m pretty sure all of Jersey misses you.”

“How gorgeous,” you nodded, feeling the warm summer breeze blow against her skin. “I miss all of Jersey too.”

“But you love it here right?”

“Of course! Everything that I want is here. My dog is here, my job, my new friends, Charlie is here..” you noticed Chris suck in a deep breath at the sound of your boyfriends name, but you just shook it off. “I mean, it’s no Jersey, but I love it here. It’s my home now.”

Chris tried his best to muster up large grin, but the only thing possible was a small twinge of the corners of his lips. “I’ll tell everyone you send your best regards.” 

we're laughing and we're joking like we always, always used to too rudely interrupted by your half-wit of a boyfriend who tries to call you to see you again, to be your friend, to hold you in my mind

You two sat for the rest of lunch and chatted over their food. As you two ate, the topics ranged from family and friends, and life at the moment, and then reminisced on old memories, and talked about people back home in which neither had seen in years. It was a small catch-up that both of you longed for.

You didn’t realize until now, how much you truly missed Chris. Moving after graduation wasn’t easy for you, simply because you were leaving behind all of the people and memories behind, hundreds of away. 

At first, moving in to Southampton was such a hassle with work and changing addresses and cars and mail, that you didn’t have time to think about your old life back in Jersey. But now that Chris was in town, you realized how much you missed his laugh and his banter.

Hearing your phone ring inside of your purse, you sighed and dropped her napkin to reach for the bag. Chris knew who it was just by the simple thought of it being later than they planned on staying, but didn’t say anything as he watched you pick up your phone and stare at the screen. Charlie. You pondered for a moment before swiping to the left and denying the call.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Chris finally asked.

You leaned back up into the seat and nodded. “Yeah, it was. He must have got off work early. He calls every-” while in the midst of speaking the phone began to ring again, this time the noise little fainter than the last. You sighed and shook you head.

“You can go, if you need to.. I can get the bill.”

Your eyes met Chris’ and frowned. “Are you sure?” You watched as Chris nodded solely. Even as much as you wanted to stay and talk to him, you didn’t know why Charlie was calling and knew that something must had been wrong or he was just impatient.

You nodded to yourself and stood up slowly, Chris following behind and watching you place the purse on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry for leaving early.” You apologized. “I really want to-” 

“It’s quite alright. I’ve had fun catching up with what time we had.” Chris cut you off. On any other day, you would have gently scorned him for being rude, but you let it slide for once. 

You smiled at him and leaned in for another hug. This one was much tighter than the first. You pressed your hand to Chris’ back, feeling his muscles dance under your palms as he wrapped his arms around you. “We need to meet up again soon while you’re in town. I’ve missed you way too much.”

The sound of you saying you missed him made his heart clench in his chest. He would have believed you if you didn’t leave now. 

You two stood like that for a moment, in each other’s embrace, basking in the moment. It felt nice, warm, and like old memories. It was like when you caught the whiff of a familiar smell or heard an old song, and you just stood there and thought about all the times. You didn’t want to go, but you knew you had to. 

When you both pulled apart, you squeezed Chris’ hand. “I’ll come see your match, alright?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I know, I know, but I want too.” Chris pressed his lips into a smile as you began to walk away towards the exit of the patio. You were forced to drop his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Christoph?” 

He nodded and grinned. “See you tomorrow.” 

[maritzaerwin]

16 SEO Experts Share Their Best Career Advice for Someone Starting Out in SEO

SEO is a very lucrative industry. But there is no clear path to success in this field. Since most of the SEOs are self-taught, you have to chart your own career path. 

Here are 16 SEOs sharing their best piece of advice on how to succeed in SEO.

Jeff Gapinski — Huemor

Being knowledgeable about SEO is an amazing skill to have. It opens up both opportunities to advance within a corporate career path and allows you to get many types of businesses off the ground if you choose an entrepreneurial route.

I’d encourage anyone first starting out with SEO to focus on understanding the fundamentals. Moz and Hubspot have great free and paid courses you can take to understand how the process works from end to end. It’s important to understand all of the moving parts and how they work together, but it’s going to be impossible for you to become a master at all of it.

Like many other careers, there’s a ton of nuance to SEO.

Based on your exposure to the various aspects of SEO, focus on a specific topic.

On-Site SEO, Content Creation, and Link Building tend to be the three big categories you can go after. Pick one of them and learn as much as you can about it.

Carlos Obregon — Bloom Digital Marketing

Always keep studying, budget at least one hour per day to read the official Google blogs as well as industry-specific blogs that you find interesting. Also do not be afraid to ask questions, SEO is not an exact science, do not hesitate to ask for help or for validation if you are not sure of what to do next. Get as many certifications as you can, this industry is largely unregulated, anyone can call themselves “SEO experts” the only true measure of your worth as an SEO consultant is your certifications and your track record.

Don’t offer guarantees, instead point to case studies of projects you have worked on with specific outcomes.

Don’t try to be a do it all, some SEO consultants are very strong in technical SEO, others are great at content development, as SEO becomes more specialized it is better to be known as the rock star SEO in “X” area than an all-around mediocre SEO consultant.

Skyler Reeves — Ardent Growth

There are 3 things I would focus on:

First, learn to read code (and maybe write a little too). I’m a little biased here due to my background, but by learning to understand code you’ll be able to solve problems many SEOs cannot.

It’s like learning math — some people use rough estimates to solve problems, others get precise answers using calculus.

Learning more about code will also help you communicate with developers and other folks responsible for implementation — being able to speak their language and show you understand them will go a long way toward getting the work done.

Secondly, get proficient with spreadsheets. They’ll be a big part of your day-to-day work. Being able to work comfortably with data in a Google Sheet will dramatically reduce the time you spend on tasks. Helpful functions to learn include things like, VLOOKUP, ARRAYFORMULA, and QUERY.

Lastly, focus on documenting the work you do. Doing so will allow you to better reverse engineer what’s working and what isn’t.

You’ll often find that some things that work for one page won’t always work for another. There are many nuances between what the algorithm favors between search queries.

Being able to identify these by referring back to your documentation will save you a lot of time and show you’re a professional and not a snake oil salesman.

Chris Castillo — Propel Digital Media Solutions

Get through the basics by using resources like Moz Blog, Search Engine Journal, Ahrefs Blog (and their Academy). Follow guys like Ryan Stewart on YouTube who are sharing legitimate, proven, white-hat strategies. Once you’ve learned enough to start applying a lot of technical factors, create yourself a small website and start applying those strategies to that site. Don’t get distracted with shiny objects (fringe tactics and hacks) – focus on the core strategies and get really good at those things. The core strategies are what every SEO executes on regardless of what crazy strategy they might be hung up on at the time.

Once you’re ready to take on client work, try to get someone who is experienced at managing an SEO campaign to work with you. Focus on client management and managing the aspects of the campaign you’re comfortable with and have the other person work the aspects you’re not as comfortable with.

Not only can you fast-track your learning and improve your overall processes when you work with someone who already has some experience, but you also improve the results you can produce. Focusing on generating results will help to build case studies which will make growing your client-base easier. Don’t focus on vanity metrics like organic traffic, but rather on conversions.

In terms of tools, try to do the best you can with the free tools available – especially when you’re just starting out. Industry-leading tools like Ahrefs can give you a significant advantage, but are very costly. I would recommend starting with a SEMrush subscription when you can afford to invest a little bit on more data and tools. Also, Screaming Frog is an incredibly versatile tool for On-Page SEO.

Jeremy Moser — uSERP

“Pick a lane. Search engine optimization isn’t a single thing. In fact, it’s literally the opposite. SEO is everything from content strategy, to link building to on-page to technical and dozens more. If you are just starting out as a career in SEO, pick one thing and spend hours each day learning about it. Watch videos on YouTube, listen to podcasts, and read articles top to bottom from big names in the space. Having overall general knowledge of all facets of SEO is great. But the real money comes in when you specialize in one sector and you do it better than your competitors.”

Austin Cline — Sitemap

SEO can be challenging to learn in the beginning. There are many moving parts and it all changes quickly. And if you’re not careful, it can become overwhelming. As a self-taught SEO, one piece of advice I would give anyone starting out is to develop a strong SEO process at the beginning of your career.

Not sure how to develop a process? As you take on more work, you’ll find every project has certain steps that are repeated each time. For instance, you might always need to get Google Analytics and website access at the start of every project. Your next step might be to perform a crawl of the website, and after that do keyword research on their current pages. Or maybe your content strategy always follows your technical work. However, it works documents each step to create a “process” that you can follow for each project.

Your process will of course evolve. You’ll make mistakes and learn from them. But over time, it will become stronger and help you minimize mistakes so you can get better results for your clients.

Matthew Dobinson — Expert Cog

Focus on the user, Google has been saying it for years. Sure you can find loopholes and shortcuts but they only last so long, google will eventually close them and it will be the person who can give the best user experience. Give yourself a head start and start focusing on it now.

Jamie Irwin — Irwin Organic

If you’re just getting into SEO and see it as a long term journey for career development then invest in yourself, and your learning, by acquiring a website.

Hands down, there is no better way to apply the new SEO principles you have just learned.

It’s a bonus if you can monetize the content on your website. Then your career development project starts to produce an ROI and your investment in yourself begins to pay off.

When I first got into SEO I was obsessed with finding courses, qualifications, and paying for accreditations. But my portfolio of sites has become my accreditation.

Kevin Dam — Aemorph

Read and watch videos online of how the search landscape has changed over the past 20+ years. Once you get an appreciation of the way the search engines work and how they’ve evolved you should learn what factors are commonly influenced to improve rankings and piece them altogether since everything is interconnected. 

Then get into the trenches of implementation and master each aspect of SEO at a time and find out what works, what doesn’t work, and what part of the whole SEO process is most enjoyable for you then focus on it 100%!

Amanda Thomas — Konstruct

Choosing to pursue a career in SEO is an exciting yet daunting choice. When first starting out the basic concepts can seem simple, but it’s definitely one of those fields where you begin to realize “the more you learn, the less you know’.

Here’s my advice:

Always be Curious: SEO is a field that’s full of a lot of conjecture and noise. You can’t always take articles or “studies” at face value, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t value within them. Try to understand the “why” behind everything.

Commit to Continuous Learning: SEO skills can get out of date quickly. You must set aside time every week for your learning development.

Start an Affiliate Site: there’s no better way to learn or try new theories in a real environment. If you’re working for a company or agency, it’s likely too risky to try these types of practices for your business or clients. Use an affiliate site as your own personal sandbox.

Find a Community: Consider joining a community where other people working in SEO knowledge share. I personally like Traffic Think Tank.

SEO can be a highly rewarding career if you put in the effort.

David Bell — Diving Bell Creative

With SEO being so results-oriented, I recommend getting some experience with a bigger domain that has a lot of content and isn’t optimized.  That sounds like an oxymoron but they exist.  Those opportunities are with non-profits.  They often have a ton of authority but have never been properly optimized.  That’s usually because the people putting together the content are on a volunteer basis and don’t know how to optimize for SEO.  

The downside is that no one wants to work for free and it’s not a luxury a lot of people have – free time.  Here’s the way to structure it – if you can.  Find a non-profit organization that is a cause you or your business supports. 

Reach out to them and offer to do some SEO work for free.  You’ll almost never be turned away, you’ll get valuable experience and you’re being altruistic.  With that, future prospects or employers will not only think you’ve got the chops – but that you’re also a good person.

Shaurya Jain — Attention Always

SEO is one of the fastest-changing industries because SEOs essentially are trying to game google and Google’s algorithm is the smartest in the world. So to keep up, you need to be continuously staying up to date. And this involves constantly learning new stuff not just from industry publications but also from courses. Never be afraid to invest in your knowledge because it will pay you back several times over.

SEO is all about testing and you can’t do all the testing yourself. so it’s better to pay someone else and learn about their SEO test results.

Andrews Ansley — Syndiket Marketing

SEO takes a lot of patience, open-mindedness, and dedication. SEO isn’t incredibly complicated, but it does require consistency and organization. If you’re trying to grow as quickly as possible I recommend joining a paid SEO group to ask questions. I also recommend joining a few Facebook groups or forums just to keep your ear to the ground for SEO knowledge nuggets.

 Lastly, I’d encourage you to rank your own website for an easy keyword using the knowledge you pick up from blog posts, forum discussions, or a paid course. Ultimately, SEO is about the experience. If you have no experience then you can’t really call yourself an SEO.

Steven Orechow — Steven Orechow Creative

SEO has been a polarizing topic online for some time now. However, many people are still unsure whether they can effectively manage it on their own, rather than viewing it as an opportunity.

When you’re starting out in SEO, everything is uniquely challenging, and you need all the simplicity you can get. My first opportunity in the field was in-house at a mid-sized local business, and we had to be clever with our budget. I learned pretty quickly that there aren’t any shortcuts.

There are plenty of “SEO Gurus” and “Marketing Ninjas” out there that make all kinds of guarantees that you’ll rank #1 if you buy their courses or follow a specific strategy. Honestly, a decent percentage of them are full of BS. The simple truth is that you work in a profession that changes every day, and requires high-level expertise that you just can’t get from watching a few YouTube videos.

There are no guarantees, SEO is about maximizing your odds of ranking in your niche and driving organic traffic to your site. I started having more success when I started my own small website – Having a place where you can experiment and learn will help you learn how to really execute. It’s not an easy process, but it’s an undeniably cool feeling when starting from 0 to getting your first visitors and continuing to grow as you stay the course.

Uma Aravind — DigitalSEO Marketing Pvt Ltd

Every year the industry is flooded with fresh SEOs. The post-pandemic situation will see a lot of influx, and even experienced SEOs who lost their job will become your competition.

To get a chance to work with the best companies or even as an SEO influencer, you need to differentiate yourselves. If you are wondering how you showcase yourself apart, get started by “Branding” yourself.

Think of yourselves as a BRAND and not as an individual. Throw away the conventional concepts that branding can only start with a costly website based portfolio. Instead, steer your focus to Social Media and LinkedIn. Establish yourselves on these platforms, and now you have given yourself the best and right kickstart to Brand yourself and make yourself noticed.

Why choose LinkedIn when there are plenty of other options?

As an SEO, you can be recruited, work as a freelancer, or even start your own company with like-minded friends. Whatever be your choice, LinkedIn will be the ideal pedestal to launch yourself forward.

To begin with, optimize your LinkedIn profile. Your profile should not be something that you create and forget. Keep it constantly updated. Use it to throw more light about the brand called YOU.

Make sure to include all your significant professional moves.

Include your certifications and any client testimonials of your work.

If you happen to attend industry-focused webinars or took part in conferences and symposiums, remember to update these details. You may get vital connections from co-participants.

Don’t just call yourself an SEO or Digital Marketing Expert. There are numerous ones out there who claim to be one. Quantify your expertise, include numbers that could speak for your proficiency. Businesses trust doers than sayers.

Treat your LinkedIn Profile as a live resume, something that quickly reflects all your professional accomplishments and screams your expertise out loud.

Be strategic while updating your skills section. Know how to market yourself. Focus more on those skills that your prospective clients may look forward to.

Keep your LinkedIn Profile active and happening. Attempt to involve yourself in group discussions. Respond to queries, participate as an industry insider, initiate conversations, strive to be useful. Share industry news or updates and seek opinion, engage your connections. Ensure your posts and comments are positive, thoughtful, and thoroughly professional.

Write articles and post them periodically. Be original. Rather than reproducing things that have been said umpteen times, stand out by offering insights or key learning on already known concepts.

Share your success stories. How about your failures? I am not going to sound cliche and preach that failure is a stepping stone for success. But don’t be afraid of failures. If you have not failed, you have not dived deep in.

Seek recommendations by offering one. Carefully, consciously and judiciously build your connections.

Set aside sometime every day for this BRAND building exercise. You will never regret doing this.

When a prospective recruiter/client searches for “SEOs in XYZ location,” your profile should pass LinkedIn’s automated sorter and come up on top of their search. As an SEO, you should be well aware, how a thoroughly updated profile stands a great chance to be highlighted in searches.

A well updated LinkedIn Portfolio creates an identity for you even before you begin a one-to-one conversation with your prospective client/recruiter. How you win the second part of the challenge is entirely dependent on your talent to drive the conversation forward.

But don’t forget. In this industry, it is all about BRAND building/marketing yourself, and that is where you need to focus first. Get going and get started.

Iris De Geest — Survey Anyplace

As an SEO expert, you should keep your eyes open at all times. Have a curious mind, try to find new ways to optimize landing pages, and learn from your observations. Research the web for interesting SEO tools and connect with fellow SEO experts by joining social media communities where SEO knowledge and innovative techniques are shared daily.

That’s how I develop my SEO skills: constant research is important, but the connection with other, like-minded professionals (whether it’s a colleague, your manager, or a fellow marketer in a Facebook or LinkedIn group) will boost your expertise, jargon, and ability to stand out eventually.

The post 16 SEO Experts Share Their Best Career Advice for Someone Starting Out in SEO appeared first on CareerMetis.com.

16 SEO Experts Share Their Best Career Advice for Someone Starting Out in SEO published first on https://skillsireweb.tumblr.com/

[tintededges]

Self-help book about how to declutter your home

I first heard about this author a couple of years ago after there was some controversy in the bookish world about applying her methods to books. I had meant to read her book for some time but, like tackling decluttering generally, there always seemed to be something else to do instead. When she landed her own Netflix TV series, again, I thought I should have a go at reading her book, but again, I didn’t get around to it. Then, she found herself in the middle of another controversy. As with the previous controversy, I felt that again people were not properly taking the time to understand the author or her method. During self-isolating, I had been doing a significant amount of decluttering anyway, so although I tend not to go for self-help books as a general rule, I decided to finally buy a copy of her book (an eBook, of course) and see for myself.

“The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying: A Simple, Effective Way to Banish Clutter Forever” by Marie Kondo and translated by Cathy Hirano (though, she is not credited in the eBook edition) is a self-help book about how to correctly declutter your home in a way that is effective, achievable and lasting. Through the KonMari method, Kondo explains that decluttering should happen in a particular order:

clothing,

books,

papers,

komono (miscellaneous things), and

things of sentimental value.

Kondo also explains that we must first discard all our things that don’t spark joy – everything – before next contemplating where to store the things that we have kept.

This is an interesting (and, very happily, a brief) book with a very simple goal: to assist people to feel better about their lives by helping them tidy their homes. There were quite a few things in this book that really stuck with me. First was Kondo’s message that one of the biggest reasons that people struggle to keep things tidy is not that they are inherently lazy, but rather that they have never been taught to tidy properly. Kondo explains that tidying is a skill, and it is one that she has spent basically her own life fine-tuning. This really resonated with me, because there are so many things that people are expected to be able to do as adults like manage money and write job applications, but that we don’t receive any kind of formal training for. Thinking about tidying as a skill to develop rather than an action that you either do or not do was really helpful for me.

I don’t have a before image

but trust me, this is MUCH tidier

Another thing that I’ve found really helpful is Kondo’s insistence that belongings must be sorted by category and then stored by category. She encourages the reader to find all things of a particular type (e.g. clothing) from around the entire house, sort it all at once, then store it all in one place. She applies this principle to other things like cleaning products, coins, pens that certainly I tend to have scattered around the house with no one clear home. This has also been really useful for getting a realistic idea of exactly how much stuff you really have. I certainly don’t need a pack of ibuprofen and a cache of coins in every single room!

I do want to make a quick point on books. One of the things Kondo has been criticised most about is that she tells people to throw away all their books and suggests that we only keep 30 books in total. Of course, if you take the time to read her book (which I now have) Kondo never says either of these things. In fact, what she says about books is far more interesting. She asks the reader, “[d]o you feel joy when surrounded by piles of unread books that don’t touch your heart?” She then asks the reader to “[i]magine what it would be like to have a bookshelf filled only with books that you really love. Isn’t that image spellbinding? For someone who loves books, what greater happiness could there be?” She is certainly pragmatic enough to acknowledge that her book, too, is an object and encourages the reader to keep “only those books that will make you happy just to see them on your shelves, the ones you really love. That includes this book too. If you don’t feel joy when you hold it in your hand, I would rather you threw it away”.

I’m still on the clothing part (which includes scarves, hats, bags and jewellery), but books are next on my list. I already give a lot of books away to either the Lifeline Book Fair or my street library, but I collect a lot of books and receive a lot of review copies, and my to-read piles are numerous. If anything, hopefully at least by tidying up the rest of my stuff, I’ll have more space for books!

Now, I do want to mention a few things that I wasn’t completely sold on in this book. First of all, Kondo is quite a quirky person anyway, but a few of her ideas (such as drying her dishes outside in the sun and standing carrots upright in her fridge) I don’t intend to implement. I think thanking each object for the contribution it has made to your life is a nice idea, but is honestly a little too labour-intensive for me.

The other thing I wanted to mention is that although the first edition of this book was only published about 9 years ago, Kondo does have a bit of an essentialist view of gender with men and women each having particular traits (though I’ve even heard Margaret Atwood make comments about why men can’t find socks). However, Kondo does gently encourage women to aspire towards elegance and femininity, and her target audience in this book appears to be mothers and housewives. This is not to say that I don’t think that her method could be applied to anyone, but she does seem to view these tasks – organising and tidying – as women’s tasks. I will say that in her TV show, she very happily sets both men and women to decluttering spaces without any concern whatsoever for gender.

Finally, I do think that there is one thing that Kondo doesn’t turn her mind to in this book which is one of my biggest obstacles when it comes to decluttering: how you throw things away. Although in my city we now have green waste as well as recycle, although I have two types of compost bins, although you can drop quality clothing and items off at op shops, although some places accept plastic bags, fabric and even batteries for recycling, there are still a lot of items that simply cannot be donated and are likely going to just find their way to landfill if you throw them in the bin. Things like old teddy bears and out of date or damaged electronics have hung around the house simply because I feel guilty just throwing them in the bin. I think that while reducing the number of belongings you have is a great way to think more sustainably about your life, the act of reducing itself is important and I think that part of the reason why we accumulate so many things is because things are so disposable.

If you want to declutter your house and you’re not really sure where to start, this book is as good a place as any. Although not definitive, especially with regards to disposing things, this book has some unique ideas and helpful tips about how to tackle the task of tidying.

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying: A Simple, Effective Way to Banish Clutter Forever Self-help book about how to declutter your home I first heard about this author a couple of years ago after there was some…