#my bookmark stash is not so large

[sergeifyodorov]

hi! if you’re comfortable w sharing, what’s ur ao3? i remember once u shared ur bookmarks & there was a delicious 1634 fic in there but i can’t find it anymore! but no worries if things have changed and u want to keep it private. thank u!

You must hunt me down organically I'm afraid

[invisibleraven]

doing geocaching for Rulie?

"Do you have plans for today?" Reggie asked as they enjoyed breakfast.

"Laundry?" Julie replied. "Otherwise no, why?"

"I have a date planned and didn't want you to leave anything behind," Reggie replied.

"I'm down," Julie replied, leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You know you are way more important than anything else to me."

"The sentiment is mutual darlin'," Reggie said with a wink. "Dress comfy with good shoes."

That piqued Julie's curiosity but they had enough dates where they went on a hike or horse riding, she was used to not needing to gussy up for every date.

Soon enough they were both dressed and heading out. "SO where are we headed?" she asked.

"It's a multi stop date," Reggie confessed. "I heard about this thing called geocaching? It's like a treasure hunt kinda and thought it might be fun."

"Oh yeah, I've done that with Carlos a few times," Julie said. "It was always a good time."

"Perfect," Reggie said. He handed over his phone, showing her the first clue. "You're on navigation."

Their first stop was at a local park, the box stashed in a large hole in a tree. Julie took a small pride pin and left a pack of crayons from the bag of small doodads Reggie had brought along.

Then they went to a locale coffee shop, finding the cache in a bush outside. Inside were a bunch of gift cards for the store, and Julie decided to buy another in exchange, while getting them both cool drinks as a refresher against the warm day.

The mini golf course had the cache in the mouth of the dinosaur where Reggie picked out a cool bookmark and left a keychain for Silver Lake. The tar pits had them exchanging a bubble wand for a nice looking print postcard.

"There's only one more," Julie commented. "Shme, this has been a lot of fun."

"We can always do it again some day if you want," Reggie replied.

"The last stop is Eats & Beats," Julie stated. "We should totally get a pastry afterwards, a nice reward."

"You're reading my mind."

Eats & Beats were curiously empty, but given it was the middle of the afternoon, Julie didn't really question it-every business had a lull period. The employee directed them to the stage, where a box was sitting on the piano. A box that had Julie's name written on it.

"Reggie?" she asked him, but he just smiled and urged her to open it. She did so with trembling hands, gasping as inside the cache was a small box-the one someone would use to house a ring. She lifted it up and turned to ask Reggie what was going on-only to find him kneeling before her.

He gave her a watery smile, gently easing the box from her hands, and taking her left in his own. "Julie...I set up this little treasure hunt for a fun day, but I knew I wanted to have this be the last stop. Because you-you're the greatest treasure ever."

"You're supposed to leave something behind though," Julie sniffled, smiling the whole time.

"You're right," Reggie agreed. "I'm leaving behind loneliness, and a life without you."

"Me too."

Reggie beamed, opening the box, and Julie's breath caught in her throat. There was a beautiful ring-one she had seen many times before sitting on MeeMaw's finger. One she knew that Reggie had been promised when he found the great love of his life.

"So darlin', what do you say? You wanna hitch your wagon to mine and be my wife?"

Julie extended her hand and nodded-too overwhelmed to speak. Watched as Reggie slid the ring on, then scooped her up to kiss her, spinning them around. The both of them laughing as they broke apart.

That's when Julie heard the applause, looking around to see their family and friends come from backstage, all swarming to con gratulate them.

"You were all in on this?"

"Yeah, Reg asked us to set up the caches," Luke replied.

"And I filmed the whole speech," her papi stated, waving his camera.

"We rented this place out," Alex said. "And your aunt brought snacks alongside the food they have here so we could have an impromptu engagement party."

"You planned all this?" she asked Reggie.

"I wanted it to be special and unique-just like us," he replied with a shrug.

"It was perfect," Julie stated, pulling him in for yet another kiss, and knew that above anything, Reggie was the real treasure in all this-one she wouldn't be giving up for anything.

[fly-you-dam-fools]

The Hogwarts Houses as Things I’ve Done:

Hello all! This is the long-awaited not awaited at all post about which Hogwarts House you think I'm in. I've tried to be pretty secretive of it and I don't think I've spilled about it (except to one person, you know who you are) because I've been waiting for this post.

All of this stuff has actually happened to me, some stuff is pretty funny 😂

PLEASE GUESS I'd love to see your take, and once a good number of people have guessed, I promise I'll disclose my Hogwarts House 😉

So, here we begin, in order of the Sorting Hat song in the first book so there aren't any favorites:

Gryffindor

Constantly thinks about all the things you could do to make a situation go wrong

Blasting music in the room and jamming while the family is out

Blasting music in the room and jamming while the family is in

Running around a campground randomly

That Hiccup meme supporting friend 👍

Picks dare at truth or dare and gets in trouble with the school

Constantly had to explain weird situations to supervisors in elementary school

Not liking supervising people because they always blamed stuff on us (the older ones) instead of the real guilty party (people that were younger)

Stashing trinkets behind a tree that’s off-grounds

Pretending the people running behind me are Grievers (the creepy stuff in The Maze Runner movies) to motivate me to keep running, and beat them

Types up an email or message with words that aren’t 100% soft and not-treading and clicks send impulsively

Intrusive thoughts on how long something would take to drop to the ground from a high place (like a small inanimate object)

Jams to video game soundtracks and pretends to be on a quest

Looks at videos on how to do cool sword/lightsaber tricks

Can picture themselves in a music video or dancing a super complicated number

Sends memes to friends constantly

Hufflepuff

Yells “Bless you!” to a person in another room

Initiate conversations with the new kid

Gets secondhand embarrassment from videos

Thinks about doing bad things then thinks about the punishment, then does the bad thing and feels super sorry and apologizes too much only to do the whole thing over again the next day

Gives money I found on ground to higher ups (regrets it later because I could have given it to charity)

Watches video of myself who didn’t reply to someone who said “Have a nice day”, feels bad

Blushes when writing fluff

Thinks fashion moodboards for hogwarts houses should be more varied

Constantly stubs toes on things (same place repeatedly)

Actually takes one piece of candy on Halloween when there’s no one at home

Has seriously never watched a horror movie before, but still enjoys the little thrills in other movies

Makes sure others are drinking water while sometimes neglecting to do the same

Feels bad when unable to make a commitment 

Seriously finds old couples/seniors so sweet

Is absolutely and completely distracted as soon as animals enter the picture, and will spend the next 45 minutes staring at a cute little bunny on the grass (at a respectable distance of course)

Always helps people with passing things out

Ravenclaw

Wishing humans could go days without eating or sleeping just to sit in front of a computer and do nothing

Folding clothes neatly only to throw them randomly in the closet

Yells at stupid characters in the movie to do better

Has a large collection of bookmarks

Uses phone as a bookmark because we all know which is more important

Daring other people to do things and never personally playing truth or dare

Reading ahead in class reads while keeping track of who’s talking and where in the book the class is reading

“You know there’s a spell for that right?”

Putting on thinner clothes just to feel that bone-chill to feel free

Falling out of chairs. Constantly. (or sliding off)

Hearing another conversation that you’re not a part of and accidentally reacting to a joke they said

Start a thousand projects but finish none of them

Terrible sleep schedule 

Goes off on alone and runs from the friend group an entire day because you want to spend time alone and run because it’s fun

Makes schedules just to not follow them

Starts way too many projects/stories but can’t/doesn’t finish them

Slytherin

Buy plants promising to take care of them only to watch them die with a neutral face

Sign up for every type of commitment and show up at none of them

Saying to a friend to not give spoilers to a movie then searching up the plot on Wikipedia

Thinks of ways you could usurp the teacher in class

Rants in an incognito search bar 

Searching up motivational quotes just to laugh at them

Makes friendship bracelets for oneself

Constantly either loves google or hates it

Has a rivalry with the internet

Goes to Apple Stores to pull up own website on Safari

Buying friendship bracelets/necklaces but not having anyone to share them with

Racks up accomplishments and certificates but stare at them in woe because they were of the past

Signature look is literally a smirk or raised eyebrow like what do you want from me

Walks around empty places with carefully planted steps, enjoying the echo that sounds across the room

Sits on a throne/chair in that pose occasionally

Is suspicious of everything that someone holds up or interesting suggestions, immediately thinking of the possible bad outcomes and how to avoid them

This actually took me quite some time to compile (from when I first made this account!!), and feel free to reblog with your thoughts and how you relate too! This is just some things I came up with myself and thought what fit into which house~ Just have fun! Please don't repost though.

Tagging some friends because I'd like their opinion, hehe: @softbobamilktae @jinnie-forthe-winnie-recs @silvermistcosmos @jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger

(I also vaguely remember doing a similar thing with asks but I totally forgot what people said (sorry 😭) and I can't find it...)

[afteriwake]

A glimpse between 2007 and now...

I'm going through my archived fic blog on Dreamwidth, just reblogging random fic/fun stuff, and I came across a meme I answered on Mar. 15th, 2007 at 02:17 PM. Let's see what has changed in 16 years... (old answers below the cut)

Keyboard or notebook? Laptop now! I entered the portable digital age a while ago, but I still type up most of my fic. Fun fact: when I worked at Legoland I used to write fic while I was working, and I'd write it on the pieces of cardboard that came in my boxes of photo frames. I had a whole stash of cardboard up at the Dragon ride.

Beta or no beta? No beta, unless it's a gift or for an exchange, and even then my actual beta is "post it to AO3, send the link to @strangelock221b and see what she thinks."

Plot? Plot for series and WIPs, one-shots get tiny bits of plot and PWPs have none at all.

Smushy or smutty? Both. Preferably in the same fic.

Summary? Since AO3 requires summaries, now I write them. It's really funny (not really) to find old fics to transfer over that don't have summaries. I need to come up with one 15 plus years later.

Funniest fic? Oh lord...probably "The Humorous Effects Of Sherlock And Truth Serums"

Most popular fic? The Art Of Love Is Largely The Art Of Persistence by hits on AO3 (20,768) and yet our roots remain as one for kudos (561) and bookmarks (94)

Most fun to write? Wow. There are just so so many. I can't choose just one.

Best and worst? The Art Of Love Is Largely The Art Of Persistence is definitely one of my personal best fics, and the worst? Still the Buffyverse PWPs I wrote.

Most underrated? A lot of the old CSIverse stuff I'm adding to my AO3 account these days. I did a good job on them, and aside from the CSI: NY fics I don't get a whole lot of love for them.

Strengths? Over the years, I've developed a keen talent for writing characters convincingly across a number of fandoms. I'm really proud when someone comments with "OMG I could see that happening on the show!" and other similar comments.

Weaknesses? Chronic fatigue has made it where I write in bursts every few weeks. Since I'm homeless at the time I wrote this (February 24th, 2023), though, I am on my laptop and in a library or Starbucks more often so I'm hoping I'll do more writing.

Dirty little secrets? I wrote non-con/dub-con, miscarriage, murder and implied suicide all in one fic. I orphaned it shortly after posting it to AO3. Every once in a while I check on it and people are still reading it. I'm...surprised, because it's a pitch black fic. But to each their own, I suppose.

---

Keyboard or notebook? Keyboard, unless I'm away from the house and I get hit with an idea. I've been known to write on envelopes and paper towels in those instances.

Beta or no beta? No beta. I write far too much and I love seeing it go up ASAP because I'm impatient. On very few occasions will I use a beta.

Plot? For my series, there's kind of an overlying plot. For my WIPs, there's a definite plot. But for most of my fic that doesn't fall into one of those categories (which isn't much)? Plotless.

Smushy or smutty? Smushy. Sometimes branching out into foreplay but never outright smut these days; I stopped writing that years ago. Though somewhere in my archives is a post where almost all the conversation is about sex and smut, and that conversation led me to write "Claw Marks," one of my few hard-R CSIverse fics.

Summary? I only write summaries if it's required.

Funniest fic? I have no clue, honestly. I personally love "Is This Sexual Harassment?"

Most popular fic? "Not What You Expected," hands down. Though I keep getting begged to add more to my "Strange And Beautiful" series. Also, "Heroics On A Smaller Scale" is probably my most popular one-shot fic.

Most fun to write? Wow. Um…the round robin I'm writing with iluvroadrunner6 that's just our OCs. William gets to come out and play out there a lot more than he does in my other fics.

Best and worst? I have no clue about my best, but worse is definitely the Buffyverse PWPs I wrote.

Most underrated? I don't really know. I would say "Theraputic," which is a CSI: NY/L&O crossover WIP I started but haven't touched in a while due to a lukewarm response.

Strengths? I think my main strengths are plot, dialogue and the believability of my OCs. It's the last one that makes me especially proud…that and the fact that my two main OC pairings (Danny/Christina and Flack/Susan) are LJ interests. Linked LJ interests.

Weaknesses? I love the fluff. And apparently I write too much of it, or so someone told me in an anonymous meme one time. But I don't look at it as a complete weakness: when I'm really happy I write great angst, and when I'm not as happy I write fluff. It's more indicative of my mood than any real compulsion to write mostly fluff.

Dirty little secrets? I wrote pr0n. I hate the stuff I wrote, too. Wish I could delete it anywhere it's archived. And…sometimes I ship characters together not because I think they'd actually work but because they'd be pretty together (which I think is the entire reason I ship Flack/Peyton but I don't write it…yet).

[glimmerbugart]

Handmade Bookmarks!

Over in The Creative Art Village, we recently did a swap of Handmade Bookmarks with several members. So much fun!

I ended up creating a large array of butterfly bookmarks that I just sent out to everyone as Happy Mail. I adore how they turned out! The idea was from a Pinterest post that I saw a while back of a printable packet that you could purchase. So I decided to make my own with what I had in my stash. And I love the way the look. Adding gold bead accents to them was the finishing touch for sure!

Aren’t they cute how they just peek out of the top of a book? Adorable! Definitely going to make more for sure!

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Three-Part Two)

Summary: (Y/N)’s magical training with Loki begins, and she begins to evaluate her growing feelings for her best friend.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Part II) April 29th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

Over the next couple of weeks, Loki helped (Y/N) acclimate to her new and overwhelming role as an Avenger. He gave her tours of different parts of the tower, introduced her to several teammates she hadn’t met yet, and read with her in her room when she grew tired or was feeling too uncomfortable with all the attention. Whenever (Y/N) wasn’t with Loki, she was slowly getting to know the rest of the team. While she got along fairly well with all of them, she was the most comfortable around Steve and Bruce; She and Steve initially bonded over their mutual love of classic films and history books, and Bruce was always kind enough to invite her down to the lab for lunch whenever she wasn’t busy with Loki.

The only Avenger that (Y/N) couldn’t stand being around, however, was Iron Man himself. It was no secret that (Y/N) and Tony disliked each other; it turned out the Artificial Intelligence system named J.A.R.V.I.S. had caught their first interaction on camera and the other Avengers had gotten a hold of the recording; they thought it was hilarious that the self-proclaimed playboy had gotten a well-deserved talking-to and Tony fumed because it had somehow gotten leaked to the others. (Y/N) suspected that Loki had something to do with its release but whenever she mentioned it to him, he’d only flashed her a mischievous smile and changed the subject. Thankfully, whenever Tony wasn’t on a mission he was either busy in the lab or off overseeing Stark Industries, so (Y/N) didn’t see him around very often.

Once her prescribed two weeks of rest were up, (Y/N)’s magical training began. She, Loki and Thor gathered together in the tower’s gymnasium; now that she knew the brothers were Asgardian gods, it was amusing to see them dressed in ‘Midgardian’ workout clothes. And it’s official, she thought as she subtly examined her best friend and his hoodie-basketball shorts combination, Loki looks handsome in just about everything he wears.

“Magic is nothing without concentration, Lady (Y/N). You must focus completely on the task you’re trying to accomplish, or you risk failing and perhaps overexerting yourself.” Loki paced before her with his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, looking every part the serious instructor.

Thor spoke up, “What did you feel when you used your magic on that Hydra agent?” Thor was only there to observe and occasionally offer advice, but (Y/N) had found herself comforted by the older Asgardian’s supportive presence.

(Y/N) thought back to the incident at the library. “Well, I remember seeing the man and thinking ‘He’s going to hurt us.’ Then, I sort of instinctively raised my hands and felt a tugging in the pit of my stomach; that’s when I pushed him back with the purple magic and fainted.”

“The reason you fainted was because although you had the proper concentration on your target, you didn’t have a clear thought about what to do to him, which caused you to use too much magic.” Loki explained patiently. “When performing magic, you must keep two things in mind: Object and intent. That way, you can control how much magic you use and keep it from exhausting or killing yourself.”

“All right, object and intent. Got it.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “And will I always have to use my hands to perform magic?”

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully and stopped pacing. “I’m not sure. Since very little is known about your particular brand of magic, you may be able to eventually use both your hands and your eyes. It will undoubtedly take a great deal of practice to even reach that level so for the time being, you’ll only try and use your hands. Now, let’s begin, shall we?” He looked around the room, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Thor, do you remember what Mother used when she first taught us levitation, before you stubbornly quit to train as a warrior?”

“Ah, you mean when you used your tricks to make an illusion of a troll chase me around the palace and I decided that magic wasn’t to my liking?” Thor chuckled as his younger brother shrugged innocently. “If I recall correctly, Mother had us begin by practicing on statues in the gardens. I don’t think that will work for a Midgardian beginner such as Lady (Y/N), though; they’re too heavy.”

(Y/N) pointed at the rack of weights across the room. “What about those?”

Smiling, Loki went over and came back with a ten-pound weight in his hand. “Brilliant, Lady (Y/N)!” He set the weight in front of her and backed away to stand next to Thor. “Try and levitate this. Remember, object and intent.”

“Okay,” She took a deep breath and raised her hands. Her eyes never left the weight as she willed it to obey her. Nothing happened. Frowning, she stared down the weight until she felt a familiar tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach; the weight was all the sudden surrounded by a purple glow, rising about a foot in the air before landing back on the ground with a dull thud. “I did it!”

“Well done!” Loki was beaming, a hint of pride in his green eyes. “This time, levitate it and see if you can’t move it in other directions…”

Hours later, (Y/N) was drenched in sweat and her body ached all over, but she’d progressed to controlling fifty-pound weights to move around the room; Loki decided to call it a day when he and Thor were nearly smacked in the head by a wayward dumbbell.

“I know it’s your turn to read aloud but I don’t mind taking over; you’ve worked hard today, after all.”

(Y/N), who was lying flat on her back on the ground, groaned. “Thank you, Loki, that would be great; I wouldn’t want to stumble over my words.” Over the past week, she and Loki had taken turns reading poetry aloud to one another; since he enjoyed reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream so much she’d introduced him to her leather-bound collection of famous poems, which he’d instantly taken to. “Why didn’t you two tell me magic was so tiring?”

Loki only chuckled from his seat on the workout bench beside her. “Don’t fret, Lady (Y/N), magic becomes nearly effortless after a while. I must say, though, you’re learning quickly for a beginner, it’s impressive.”

“Loki’s right, your magic is stronger than I could have ever expected, Lady (Y/N).” Thor spoke as he sat next to his brother. “And I know for a fact that it’s nearly impossible to impress him.” He nudged his brother’s shoulder with his own. “Perhaps she’ll impress you again when her magic surpasses yours one day, brother!”

“I have no problems with that, Thor, just as long as she promises to use her magic to bludgeon you with dumbbells whenever required.” That made them all laugh.

(Y/N) clambered to her feet and stretched her arms. “Well, I’m going to go take a quick shower before we read; I’ll meet you in your room in an hour, okay?” After turning to leave, she turned around to face the brothers, specifically the eldest of the two. “And Thor, if you even think about eating my snacks while I’m in the shower like last time, I promise that I’ll tell everyone about your secret stash of Pop-Tarts.” Thor gulped nervously as she shifted her gaze to the younger brother. “Could you please protect my snacks from him, Loki?”

Loki nodded, giving her a mock-bow and a grin. “I shall endeavor to guard your snacks from all who dare threaten them, my lady!”

“Oh, my hero!” Playing along with him, she clutched her chest and looked up at the ceiling dramatically, earning another laugh from both men. “See you soon…”

She left the gymnasium and as she walked down the hall, she heard Thor remark, “Well, brother, I can certainly see why you-Ow! That hurt!”

Behind all the pranks and insults they seem to care a lot for each other, she thought with a smile as she made her way to the elevator. She’d spent the past couple of weeks silently observing the brothers, and despite being slightly intimidated by him during their first meeting, she’d grown quite fond of Thor. And although he’d never admit it to her, she began to think that Loki was wary of living in Thor’s shadow, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by prying. Pride filled her as she thought of his praise of her developing magical skills, and she couldn’t wait to learn more about her powers with him. Hopefully I won’t be as sore from now on, though, she thought with a wince when she stepped into the elevator and hurried off to enjoy a soothing shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A moment after she knocked, Loki opened his door of his suite with his usual grin. “Your snacks, my lady, kept safe from annoying oafs as promised.” He allowed her in and closed the door behind her before gesturing to his large sofa and coffee table piled high with food. “Make yourself comfortable.”

(Y/N) smiled and sat herself carefully on the cushions, sighing in satisfaction at how comfortable they felt to her still-aching muscles. His room was very similar to hers, except his had a distinct green and gold theme whereas hers was more lavender mixed with other pastels. “Thank you, Loki. I was wondering, have you ever tutored anyone else in magic before?”

He sat next to her, her leather-bound book in his hand. “Never. I’m simply attempting to channel everything my mother taught me about magic when I first began, though I’m afraid I’m not nearly as skilled as she is…”

“Well, I think you make a wonderful teacher!” Her pulse quickened when he smiled shyly at her compliment, so to distract herself she began nibbling on her granola bar. “Now, where did we stop yesterday?”

“Um…” Flicking through the pages, he found the page that was bookmarked. “Ah yes, ‘She Walks in Beauty.’” He cleared his throat and began reading aloud:

“She walks in beauty, like the night  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  And all that’s best of dark and bright  Meet in her aspect and her eyes;  Thus mellowed to that tender light  Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 

One shade the more, one ray the less,  Had half impaired the nameless grace  Which waves in every raven tress,  Or softly lightens o’er her face;  Where thoughts serenely sweet express,  How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  But tell of days in goodness spent,  A mind at peace with all below,  A heart whose love is innocent!”

(Y/N) sighed dreamily when he finished. “I’ve always thought that poem was brilliant. The way Lord Byron presents the woman’s beauty as a delicate balance between light and dark is so eloquent, and I love the conclusion he draws about inner and outer beauty living in harmony with one another. It’s very sweet how he describes this woman who he obviously has feelings for…” She trailed off when she noticed Loki smirking. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you’ve proven a theory of mine correct.”

“And what theory would that be, exactly?” Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow at him and tried not to smile at his smug expression.

“That you, Lady (Y/N), are a hopeless romantic.” Loki grinned triumphantly as a blush spread over her cheeks. “I suspected as much when you recommended Pride and Prejudice to me all those weeks ago; though you claimed you enjoyed the novel for the witty banter and period drama, it was obvious that you also enjoyed it for the romantic plot between Elizabeth Bennet and Mister Darcy.”

Shrugging noncommittally, (Y/N) retorted, “All right, I’ll admit that I’m a hopeless romantic…just as soon as you do.” His green eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you flicking through Much Ado About Nothing the other day, and when you were reading ‘She Walks in Beauty’ just now you couldn’t keep the goofy smile off your face.”

Loki’s stunned expression shifted as he gave her a lopsided grin. “I suppose you’re right, Lady (Y/N). Though if word of that got out it would ruin my reputation as a terrifying, all-powerful god, wouldn’t you say?” He leaned closer and jokingly stage-whispered, “I promise not to tell anyone your secret if you promise not to tell them mine. Agreed?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Loki.” She felt as if she were melting under his intense gaze, and it wasn’t until her eyes involuntarily flicked to his lips did she realize how close their faces were. Quickly pulling away, she fumbled with the hem of her peasant-top and trained her eyes on the book in his lap, fully aware that her face was reddening as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “So, um, shall we continue?”

She heard him clear his throat and reply, “Yes, of course, um, right…” He hastily picked the book up and flipped the page, the sight of him licking his finger to do so only causing her blush to deepen. “All right: ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud…’”

As he continued to read poem after poem, (Y/N) replayed everything that had happened in her mind. She’d nearly thrown caution to the wind and kissed her best friend. Over their three months of friendship, the small crush she’d been harboring for the Asgardian had developed into something much larger and though she wasn’t sure if what she felt was love, since she’d never experienced it before, she knew that her strong feelings could jeopardize their friendship. Besides that, he was an Asgardian, practically a god, and she was just an ordinary Midgardian who just happened to have a Light Elf for a mother; there was absolutely no chance of him possibly returning her feelings so at that moment, she decided to try her hardest to repress them for both their sakes and the sake of their friendship.

But maybe I’ll let myself enjoy today, she thought, tentatively leaning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes, reveling in the feeling of being so close to him. To her surprise, he reached around her shoulders and pulled her closer, leaving his arm wrapped tightly around her as he continued to read. His soothing musical voice combined with the warmth he radiated and his unique scent relaxed and lulled her to sleep, but not before she heard him flip back several pages and read, “‘She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies…’”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! In the text I included a link to a Youtube video of Tom Hiddleston reading ‘She Walks In Beauty,’ you should really give it a listen! I’ve also created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Four

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[banditthewriter]

Leave Nothing To Chance - Charles Vane

So. This happened. No idea where this came from, but here we go, 1.5k words of... something. First time writing for this fandom and this character. But who hasn’t wanted to be a pirate at some point in their life, right? (Except the paralyzing fear of drowning that is...)

Does this mean my fic writing hiatus is over? Probably not. Consider this a fic relapse. We’ll see what happens.

Uh. But yeah. Enjoy?

*gif not mine*

*****

The conversations from people in the streets rose up to meet you on the patio where you sat with one of your favorite books. The sun had driven most people into taverns and the inn, but some had to make the trek through the heart of Nassau. The merchants, the men and women who toiled tirelessly to survive. 

Your mother had been a teacher in Nassau before her untimely death. It meant that you were educated, but to what end? Your father would have you married off to some merchant or farmer in the interior before he would allow you to make your own way through the world. And if your stepmother had anything to say about it, you’d be working in the brothel.

If working with her legs in the air was good enough for her daughter, it was good enough for her good for nothing stepdaughter. At least that’s what she constantly told your father anytime the subject of money came up.

The secret stash of coins that you had been adding to since your fifth birthday, long before you ever came to Nassau, was your ticket to a better life. And with every passing day as your father’s health started to fail him, you began coming up with contingencies. 

As you flipped the page in the book you were pretending to read, you heard a snippet of conversation from some of the men who were making their way from the butcher shop.

“Did you see who came into the bay this morning?”

“Aye, The Ranger. If the stories are to be believed, it’s the biggest haul the crew has gotten in years.”

“Going to be a rowdy night for certain.”

The men scurried off out of view and away from where you could hear them, but that didn’t stop you from peering over the railing as if you could see the bay from where you sat. 

The Ranger coming back with a big prize did mean that the island would be buzzing with excitement and danger, as it always did when one of the crews had a large haul. The men wanted to celebrate, others wanted to express their jealousy. 

You slipped the string that you used for a bookmark between the pages as you thought about what this might mean for the night. The crew would mostly be at either the tavern or the inn. 

And perhaps, if you could be sneaky enough, you might be as well.

------

The lump in your bed was made by extra bedding and clothes. If anyone opened your bedroom door, that’s all they would see on the mattress on the floor that you slept on. It wasn’t often that your father checked on you, not now that you were older, but on nights when Nassau was as chaotic as it was that night?

He might just want to make sure you were sound asleep.

Instead you scaled down the edge of the patio and hopped onto the street below. No one had heard and if anyone on the street noticed, they didn’t draw attention to you. Most people were hurrying towards one vice or another so you weren’t a cause for concern for any of them.

You dusted off your dress before you started towards the tavern.

It had been a choice between the inn or the tavern but you knew that an unaccompanied woman in the inn-also-brothel would draw too much attention. The tavern made more sense. You’d been before, of course, but rarely by yourself.

Even rarer still did you go on a night when one of the larger crews had returned from a long voyage with a prize that had garnered them quite the payment. If the gossip was to be believed, that is.

The tavern was alive with song and laughter, voices calling out over each other to the point where nothing made sense. You saw a few familiar faces, but none you’d wish to interrupt. Instead you continued to act as if you were looking for someone.

In fact you weren’t looking for anyone. You knew you didn’t need to. Not on a night like this.

A bit of blonde hair caught your eye and you quickly ducked behind a bulky pirate before Eleanor Guthrie caught sight of you. She had a habit of throwing you out if she caught you there alone and you didn’t want to take the chance. Not tonight. 

Instead you slipped through the crowd and kept your head down. You knew how to act around pirates, had been taught since you came to Nassau. Don’t draw attention to yourself but don’t cower. If someone starts something, stand firm as you back away. It was a dance of contradictions, but one you had gotten good at over the years.

Most of the people in Nassau respected your father, remembered your mother fondly, but there was always someone who was willing to piss on that respect if they felt the urge.

You made strides to never give them a reason to bother with you.

A hand squeezed at your backside. Your eyes darted to the side to where the culprit stood. A bleary eyed pirate looked back at you, his mostly toothless grin making you roll your eyes. It didn’t take much of a prod towards one of the buxom ladies nearby for him to go off in a different direction.

Those encounters happened more often than not. You would deal with those a thousand times if it meant you didn’t have to deal with the more serious situations.

While your attention was on the toothless pirate about to bury himself in the cleavage of the lady he had stumbled into, you found yourself stumbling into someone. Someone taller than you and sturdy. 

A breath was startled out of you as you looked up and met the blue eyes of the one and only Charles Vane. The captain of The Ranger himself stood before you without a care in the world. He had a tankard of ale in one hand and the other resting at his side. 

“You should watch where you’re walking,” he rasped in the unique voice of his. 

You tore your eyes away from his look and cast a glance around the tavern. No one had seemed to notice the two of you.

“It was an accident. My apologies Captain Vane.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as he tilted his head. He was observing you, cataloging every inch and wrinkle. The idea of him staring at you like that should make you indignant, but you found yourself giddy at the attention instead.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

That was a familiar sentiment. You let yourself catch his intense gaze once more.

“I thought the tavern was open to the public. Or has The Ranger crew rented it out for the night for their own devices?”

Those eyes narrowed at you. Whatever spark that had led you to snap at the captain was almost completely extinguished. Almost. You remembered your mother’s words about standing firm as you back away from conflict.

Perhaps you should put that to the test.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you said as you turned towards one of the doors that led out to a lesser traveled street.

You had barely stepped onto the dirt before a hand grabbed around your upper arm.

“I think we should discuss your attitude,” he said as he started to urge you down the street and towards a secluded area where no one would be able to see the two of you.

You opened your mouth to form a rebuttal, but the look on his face said that it wouldn’t be welcomed right then. Instead you bit your tongue and mentally listed all the ways this was going to end badly for someone.

In the secluded corner, you were pushed until your back hit the wall of the building. He stood before you, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him. 

“Do you think your attitude is wise when you’re speaking to a pirate?”

You wanted to cross your arms but refused to show any weakness. Instead you tilted your chin up towards him.

“What can I say? I guess you just bring it out of me.”

His eyes widened at your snark. You felt more than saw his hand come up towards you, brushing against your arm completely on purpose. Then the backs of his fingers brushed against your cheek.

“I missed you too.”

Charles wrapped his hand around the back of your neck to tug you into a kiss. You pulled back long enough to give him a glare for good measure before you tugged him back in for another kiss. And another and another.

It was tradition for you to find him when he made it back to Nassau. Just like every time before that your paths crossed in public, the two of you always pretended to not know one another. Each time it got harder and harder, but you knew why the two of you did it.

Your father wanted you to marry a merchant or farmer. Your stepmother wanted you to become a whore. And you? Well you were in love with a pirate captain and wanted to run away to the sea with him.

It wasn’t exactly easy but hey, that was Nassau.

X

Thanks for reading?

[meow-bebe]

Bored Games

Pairing: Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, tbh this is just kinda weird, quarantine fic?

Warnings: a decent amount of cussing, one cringey sex joke, an unfortunate attempt at cheating at scrabble based of a real experience of mine

Word count: 3662

A/n: yes you heard me right, this is a quarantine fic. to those in the future, 2020 was a strange time

~~

“I’m  boreeeddd, Y/n,” Minhyuk whined, flopping down on the bed beside you. You were currently immersed in a book, laying in a pool of afternoon sunlight on your bed, glasses slipping down your nose as you lost yourself in the pages. 

“I know,” you hummed, barely listening. 

“I’m tired of staying inside,” he continued. 

“I know,” you repeated, flicking a strand of hair out of your face and turning the page. 

“I want food that we haven’t cooked.” He rolled over so he was closer to you, and you finally glanced over at him. 

“I’m aware.”

“I want to go places!” His voice raised in pitch, somehow managing to become even more whiny, and you sighed, setting your book down. 

“Yet again, Minhyuk, I know. Quarantine is driving you insane, you’re constantly bored even though we’re always doing things, and you’re itching to go literally anywhere. Bothering me every three minutes isn’t going to help anything.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I just have too much-” Mihyuk flails his hands about - “energy. And it feels like there’s nothing to do. I need to keep busy.”

“You could water my plants,” you suggest sarcastically. 

“Maybe I will.” 

You roll your eyes, and an idea begins to spark in your head. “Actually, I might have something in mind.” Minhyuk pulls his head out where he had buried it between the pillows, eyes bright at the prospect of actually doing something. “How about this. You go find something to do for fifteen minutes so I can finish this chapter-” You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes again at the way your boyfriend visibly deflates - “and then I’ll show you my idea.”

“What, you’re not going to tell me what it is?” Minhyuk teases.

“Nope,” You pop the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “You’ll just have to wait and see. It’s pretty great though, I promise. I think you’ll like it.”

Minhyuk squints at you for a moment before finally agreeing. “Fine. Just, hurry up with the reading.” He got off the bed and dashed toward the door. “I’ll be waiting!” he sang.

“I can only read so fast,” you called after him. You rolled out your neck and turned back to your book, quickly managing to slip back into focus with no more distractions. You finished faster than you had anticipated, slipping the random scrap of paper you were currently using as a bookmark into place. Raising your arms above your head, you stretched out your shoulders before rolling off the bed. You strode over to the closet and swiped all of your clothing to the side, beginning to hunt around amongst all of the boxes of stuff you really didn't want to deal with when you moved in search of two specific boxes, hoping you had marked them correctly. 

And there they were, stuck neatly on top of each other in the farthest corner in a surprising contrast to the rest of your messy closet. Board Games. You wore a triumphant smile as you pulled the two boxes from the depths of the closet, managing to get them to the bed without any accidents. You pulled the flaps open on the first box, the smaller of the two, and began to stack up the thinner game boxes on the bed. It was a haphazard pile, but it didn’t really matter. If everything went to plan it would be pulled apart within a few minutes anyway. Fishing the last game out, you tossed the box back towards the closet and told yourself you would clean it up later, knowing that you probably wouldn’t. 

You opened the second box, stacking even more games onto your pile before the box met the same fate as the previous one. You gathered the precarious tower up, and even with your arms completely extended it met your chin. Tonight would be fun. 

“Minhyuk!” you called as you strode out of the bedroom, startling Minhyuk. He wobbled slightly on his perch on the back of the couch, green watering can in hand as he had apparently scrambled up there to reach the spider plant hanging from the curtain rod. It seemed as though he had taken your overly sarcastic suggestion to heart. 

“What,” he asked, eyes zeroing in on the stack in your arms, “are you going to do with those?” 

“So remember how I told you I had an idea of what we could do?” He nodded. “We-” you dumped the stack next to the coffee table as Minhyuk tipped the rest of the water into the plant and hopped down onto the couch- “are going to play every board game that I own.”

Eyeing the large stack again, Minhyuk said, “That’ll take all night.”

“That’s the point,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. 

“Well then,” Minhyuk grinned and clapped his hands together, “we should get started. What should we play first?”

Shuffling through the pile, you produced a familiar yet dreaded box. “We start with a classic.” An evil grin spread across your face as you held the box up. “Monopoly.”

~~

Monopoly ended about forty-five minutes later and halfway through the game when you somehow managed to hook your arm under the board and sent the entire game flying into Minhyuk’s lap. The two of you had decided that you didn’t want to set everything up again as neither of you could really remember what you owned or where everything went, and you were also aware of the competitive nature of the game and didn’t want to start a feud already. The night was still young after all, and you had a whole stack of other games to play. You had then played a surprisingly aggressive round of double solitaire and were now trying somewhat unsuccessfully to teach Minhyuk how to play Exploding Kittens. 

“Hah! Give me your defuse!” Mihyuk bursts as soon as you draw your card, slapping down two ‘hairy potato cat’ cards. 

You fan your handful of cards out for him to pick from and sigh. “You can only do that if you have three of those.” Minhyuk huffed and drew one of your cards, adding it to his significantly smaller stash. Scanning over his cards, he tossed a ‘see the future’ onto the discard pile and counted out the top three cards from the top of the deck to look at. He squinted, glanced up at you, and grinned before setting the cards back down and drawing the first one. 

“You have an absolutely terrible poker face, you know.” You plucked a ‘skip’ from your hand and put it on top of the ‘see the future’. Minhyuk scowled and went back to dramatically shuffling through his cards. He eventually decided on an ‘attack’ and the pure pride on his face made you feel a little bad when you immediately slapped a ‘nope’ on top of it. 

“Oh come on!” he yelled, “This isn’t fair! I barely know how to play this game.” Minhyuk glared down at his cards, and pulled a ‘shuffle’ out before sliding the deck towards you. It was still early enough in the game that there was a decent pile of cards, and you quickly and thoroughly shuffled the deck. Minhyuk drew the slightly bent card on top, promptly throwing it back down when he discovered it was the same exact ‘exploding kitten’ he was avoiding. “Seriously?” he yelled again, tossing down the rest of his cards on the discard pile. “You rigged it!”

You smirked a little. “I did no such thing.”

“This game sucks,” Minhyuk pouted.

“It’s not that bad,” you said, gathering all of the cards so you could shuffle the expansion packs back in and pack up the deck. “It’ll be more fun when you really learn how to play, promise. Why don’t you go choose our next game? Oh, and add another point to my side of the board, would you?” 

The two of you had decided to turn this into a little bit more than your average game night, keeping track of who won how many games on the whiteboard that you usually used as a schedule. Considering that you weren’t really doing much these days other than attending video call meetings, you had erased the weekend and were using those slots to keep track of the points. Whoever won the overall competition got to have the other as their ‘slave’ the next day, doing anything and everything the other could ask of you. Truthfully you had no idea who was going to win, but either way tomorrow would be interesting. The arrangement reminded you somewhat of when you were a child and caught your siblings sneaking candy and then forced them into promising you a week of their service in exchange for not telling your parents. Winning Exploding Kittens put you in the lead, as you had decided that each of you would get a point for both Monopoly and solitaire as neither had a particular winner. 

Minhyuk glared at you. “Fuck you.”

“Only if I say so,” you teased, and he pretended to throw up in response. 

You shuffled the Exploding Kittens cards one last time for good measure before halving the deck and putting it back in the box. You then tossed the box across the coffee table to join the decks of cards on top of the Monopoly box next to Minhyuk’s spot. “Did you pick a game yet?” 

“Yes.” He slid the red box onto the table. “We’re playing Scrabble.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “You always cheat. I don’t know if I want to play with a cheater.”

He whisked the top off and tossed it to the floor. “I do not. We are playing Scrabble, you got to choose the last one so it’s my turn now. And I choose Scrabble.”

“Fine,” you said, grabbing the board and dramatically snapping it open. “Give me my letter stand thing.” 

Minhyuk burst out laughing. “Letter stand thing?” he wheezed, “Isn’t there a word for it? You'll have to try harder than that if you want to win this.”

“Perhaps,” you said, “but I have more important things to focus on right now. Like making sure you don’t cheat.” You snatched the velvet bag from his hands, and immediately paused, not feeling the flat Scrabble letters inside. “This is my D&D dice….”

Minhyuk tipped his head to the side. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?”

“We had a campaign in high school.” You opened the bag just to make sure you weren’t losing your mind and pulled out the favored D20. “How did these end up here?”

“I really don’t know,” Minhyuk said, “but I certainly hope you still have the Scrabble tiles.”

“Well if these are here-” You shook the bag- “I can only assume that the Scrabble stuff is with my D&D books.”

“Alright then,” Minhyuk stood up abruptly, shoving the table towards you a little bit, “let the hunt begin!”

~~

As it turns out you were right, and the wooden letters were, in fact, with your old D&D books. Although the bags were exactly the same, which led you to believe that the bag that the dice currently resided in might have been stolen from one of the other members of your high school party’s Scrabble set, you really weren’t sure how the two had gotten mixed up. It took about twenty minutes of searching through boxes, but the books were eventually found.

You were currently set back up at the coffee table again, each of you with your phones pulled out for easy access and the dictionary sitting next to the game board, and you were impatiently waiting for Minhyuk to finally take his turn. 

“Are you going to go, or are you going to sit there and stare at the letters some more?” You asked. “We don’t have all day.”

“We have nothing but time,” Minhyuk says, starting to rearrange the tiles on his stand. 

“We also have a shit ton more games to play,” you pointed out. “You accepted the challenge, now we gotta pull through.”

“Fine,” he huffed, gathering his letters, “I’m adding onto your ‘ate’ to make ‘tolerate’. Give me five more letters.” 

You held the bag out, high enough so that he couldn’t see into it and choose which letter he drew, and Minhyuk pulled them out one by one, carefully setting them on his stand. He scrawled down a few more tally marks on the ripped sheet of notebook paper you were using to keep score as you surveyed your own letters. As you began to set them out, he pulled his phone up and you squinted suspiciously at him before straightening out what you had placed down and announcing how many points you get. 

“I was going to use that letter,” Minhyuk grumbled. 

“That’s how the game goes,” you say. “Now take your damn turn.” 

“I’m working on it,” he said, placing two letters out, hitting both a double word score and a triple letter score. 

“That-” you point at the ‘word’ on the board- “is not a word.”

“Yes it is,” Minhyuk says smugly, “I googled it.”

“Zek?” you question, “there’s no fucking way.” 

“Look it up then.” 

“Fine,” you say, unlocking your phone, “I will. And I'll prove your ass wrong.” Minhyuk sits there proudly and adds up his  as you type his ‘word’ into google. 

“‘Zek’,” you read out, “‘a Russian slang term for a prisoner in a Soviet labor camp’. What the fuck, Minhyuk?”

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“Russian. Slang term. Two reasons you can’t use it, right there in the definition! Scrabble words can’t be in other languages, and you can’t use slang terms! Take it off the board and erase your points!” 

“Fine!” he exclaims, accidentally knocking a few other letters around as he angrily swiped the ‘z’ and ‘k’ of the board. “But I get another chance.”

~~

“Got your points all counted up?” Minhyuk asks, writing down his final number and hiding the paper from you. 

“Yep,” you confirmed, “all words present and accounted for.”

“You go first,” Minhyuk says, grinning down at his numbers before tucking it back against his chest. 

“Two hundred and seventeen,” you proudly announced. 

“Two hundred and twenty eight!” Minhyuk yells, jumping up from the couch and dancing around the room in celebration. “I fucking win!” 

“What?” you screech? “How? All of your words were small and shitty!”

“Yeah they were,” he says, stopping his victory flailing to poke you in the nose, “I just know where to put my small shitty words to get more points than you!” 

You grit your teeth and slap his hand away from your face. “Give yourself a point, pick another game.” You carefully folded the board most of the way and situated the bag underneath it, pouring the tiles back into it. You put everything back into the box and slipped underneath Monopoly. 

“Here,” Minhyuk fell back into his spot and tossed a small plastic bag of Cards Against Humanity cards onto the table. “Do you have more of these?” 

“Somewhere,” you said, “but let’s just use these. Keep it short ‘cause we have more games to get through.” 

“Good idea,” he agreed. “Are we planning on having dinner soon? It’s going to get dark in a little while.”

You looked up to the window behind the couch to see the sun sinking steadily towards the horizon. The light was starting to fade from the room, and at some point in the near future you would need to pull a lamp close to the table if you wanted to be able to see whatever you would be playing at that point. 

“I am getting kind of hungry. Why don’t we finish this game and then eat?” you proposed.

“Works for me.” 

~~

Playing a short round of Cards Against Humanity had brought you back into good spirits again after the overly competitive nature of Scrabble. As always, you had both lost your shit laughing several times, and Minhyuk was surprisingly not very pouty when you claimed the point. (Although he did try to argue that you should only get half a point because it was basically just half a game.)

The two of you had quickly thrown together a small dinner, after which some rearrangement of the living room lamps was required to provide enough light to see by. Despite needing three people to play, a game of Clue was attempted, however you gave up pretty quickly because you each had too many of the Clue cards and therefore too much power. (And Minhyuk was definitely trying to cheat again.) Neither of you got a point for that one. 

You were currently trying to work your way through a small box of “road trip games” that you’ve had since middle school, although it wasn’t going very well. For either of you. The box was tiny, the appeal of it coming from the small size and the magnets in the bottom of the pieces that allowed them to not get knocked around. Unfortunately, most of the magnets had fallen out over the years, and you and Minhyuk would consistently bump the little game board around, knocking several pieces over each time. Also neither of you were very good at chess. 

Minhyuk moved his knight to take one of your pawns, and you immediately swept in to claim the knight for yourself. He then managed to take another one of your pawns, and you snatched the rook right away. Minhyuk groaned and flopped his head back onto the couch cushion. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you chastised, “we’re just bad at it.” 

“If both of us are bad at it, it’s not a good game.”

“Your logic is flawed,” you sigh, “just take your turn.” He did, moving his queen to the side in an attempt to get a shot at your remaining tower. “Check,” you announced, and before Minhyuk had a chance to move his queen back to a protective place you moved your knight once more and happily exclaimed, “Checkmate.”

“Fuck this,” Minhyuk glowered and slapped the box closed. “Let’s do something else.” 

“We still have to play checkers,” you reminded, adding another point to your column of the schedule. 

Minhyuk groaned again. “At least checkers is kind of easy.”

“Well then let’s get to it.”

~~

Several hours had passed. You kept playing games, slowly decreasing the stack next to the couch, adding point after point to the whiteboard. It was definitely pretty late now, but time had no meaning anyway. You were drinking your third cup of coffee, trying to stay alert enough to keep your mind sharp. It wasn’t particularly working. 

“It is literally two in the morning. We’ve been playing games most of the day. Are we almost done?” Minhyuk had just won his first game in a while, and you were left staring at the final box on the floor. 

“Yeah,” you said, “only one left.” 

“What is it?”

“Pictureka,” you say, plonking the broken box onto the table. 

“Pictureka?” Minhyuk buries his face in his hands. “For fucks sake, seriously?” 

“I’m completely serious,” you say, starting to unpack the tiles. 

“I’m tired,” Minhyuk complains, “and you know I can’t see for shit anyway.”

“You’re wearing your glasses,” you point out. “And anyway, as soon as we finish this we can go to bed. This is the last one.”

He huffs dramatically. “Fine.” 

The two of you set the game up, and once you began playing, it was obvious that despite the fact that Minhyuk “can’t see for shit,” he was winning anyway. The two of you continued for a while, impatiently waiting for the timer to run out each round, slowly collecting a pile of the challenge cards. 

“Wait, are we supposed to go through all of these cards?” Minhyuk asks, suddenly realising how many were left in each stack. 

“I mean, I’ve always just played until I got bored,” you say, trying to recall if you’ve ever played the whole decks. 

“Then why are we still here,” Minhyuk asks. “It’s too late to be doing this.”

“Says the one with a pile twice the size of mine,” you deadpan. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault your brain stops working when you're tired.” Minhyuk raises his hands defensively. 

You roll your eyes. “One more round?”

“Perfect.” 

~~

Completely unsurprisingly, Minhyuk had won Pictureka. He gave himself another point, and began to help you separate the different colored cards and stick the tiles back into the box. Once that was all put away, it was added to the pile of game boxes sitting next to Minhyuk on the couch and also beginning to pile up on the floor. 

You pulled the whiteboard into your lap. “And now, we determine who’s the final winner of game night.”

You counted up your points, wrote the final number at the bottom, and then began on Minhyuk’s. The number you reached on his side made you pause. “....They’re even.”

“What?” Minhyuk screeched in your ear. This earned a glare from you. “Let me see.” He snatched the board from your lap, quickly scanning over the points himself and apparently coming to the same conclusion as you. “Well what do we do now then? Do neither of us get the prize? Or both?”

“Let’s figure it out in the morning,” you say with a yawn, “it’s too late for this.”

“You’re right,” Minhyuk agreed, and stood up to stretch. “Maybe it’s better that we tied.”

“Perhaps,” you mused, “but all I care about right now is going to bed. I’ve sat cross legged for too long today.”

And so, the two of you made your way back to the bedroom, setting your empty coffee mug in the sink and avoiding the boxes you had tossed around earlier. Minhyuk’s boredom had been alleviated, at least for today, and it was almost three a.m. Definitely time to call it a night.

[ddagent]

librarian jaime and student brienne pls!

Congratulations, Anon! This is my first fic of 2020; I’m so excited!! Sidenote, when working out library fees I realised there’s a lot more to Westerosi currency than I thought. Enjoy!

The Casterly Library looked as old as the surrounding buildings in Winterfell University. Stone brickwork; high windows; an ornate arch with direwolves carved into the stone above the entrance. A far cry from the modern library with entire walls of glass that his father had tried to pay for as a way to integrate himself into his eldest son’s university life. Thankfully, the students had protested such a modern building on campus. But a little protest didn’t stop Tywin Lannister. His funds for improvements had earned a new name for the library and a plaque by the door. 

Of course, his money had had the opposite effect. The library was so nice that Jaime had never wanted to leave. 

Entering the building, Jaime swiped his ID card at the barriers and swept through. He nodded at Pia, one of the assistant librarians manning the front desk, before he headed up to the staff room. The library was still; barely a handful of students inside, and most of them would be heading home soon for a well-deserved rest. The majority of Winterfell University’s student population had yet to return from the Sevenmas break. Jaime always enjoyed their return, though. It’s when he got to collect late fees. 

Coat and bag stowed, Jaime pulled on the burgundy cardigan Tyrion had bought him for the fourth day of Sevenmas and headed down to the front desk with a takeaway hot chocolate in hand. “Quiet evening?” he asked Pia.

“Found one of Bolton’s third years crying in the loos but, yeah, all quiet.” Pia tucked her phone into her pocket and headed out from behind the desk. “You know, I could keep you company for a while if you’d like. As it’s so quiet.” 

“No need,” Jaime said, already vacating Pia’s empty seat and reaching for the paperback he’d stashed there yesterday. His bookmark was halfway through. “I’ve got the Blue Knight to keep me company.” 

He missed Pia’s crestfallen expression as he flicked ahead to page 202. Jaime took a sip of hot chocolate and began to read. As a child, he’d loathed the activity; the letters seemed to reverse themselves, and he’d often think a word was correct before his sister would snigger and tell him he was mistaken. His father had forced him to read, keeping him in the study back at the original Casterly Rock until Jaime started memorising large chunks just to get Tywin off his back. It was only when he stayed with his Aunt in the Riverlands that he was finally taken to a specialist for reading strategies. The first book he ever read without struggling was with Goldenhand the Just, who liked to smack his enemies in the face with his solid gold hand. 

Make your greatest weakness your greatest strength. And that’s what Jaime had done.   

Of course, people still questioned his abilities. His father, his sister. Students and lecturers who saw the Lannister name and wondered if Tywin’s money had paid for his position (it hadn’t), or who saw his good looks and thought he wasn’t intelligent enough to be the senior librarian (he was). One of those people was coming through the door right now. B Tarth, one of Cat’s first years. Tall, broad, with striking blue eyes and a scowl that would send most scurrying, especially this time of the morning. It had been an innocent mistake, holding her study room reservation under a ‘Brien Tarth’. But saying he’d never cracked open a book unless it was to scan it out...well, that required a little payback.

Tarth barely acknowledged him as she scanned her ID card at the barriers. It made an unsatisfying beep and denied her entry. She tried it again. Same sound. Jaime smirked, put his book out of sight, and leaned back in his chair. He waited for Tarth to come to him. And so she did. 

“There’s something wrong with my ID card.” 

“Is there?” he asked, feigning poor ignorance. 

There was that scowl again. “It won’t let me enter.” 

“I wonder why that could be. Let me pull up your account.” Jaime took his time logging into the library system and searching for Tarth’s name, as if he didn’t already know what he would find. And there it was, three books in right red with OVERDUE right beside them. He leaned back and grinned. “Unfortunately, Ms Tarth, you have some overdue books. I’m afraid you owe Casterly Library some money.”

“I–I–I don’t have any overdue books!” Tarth opened up her satchel and produced a case history of the Long Night, one of Cat’s first-year modules. “This is the only book I have out at the moment, and it doesn’t need to be returned for another week!” 

At this point, more students had begun to trickle through the entranceway. Jaime had hoped Tarth would return with all the others; he’d wanted a bigger audience for this. Ah well. "Actually, Ms Tarth, you have three books overdue. Beyond the Wall: A Guide to the Vagina.” She gasped, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks. “The Bear or Maiden Fair: A Series of Essays on Wilding Sexual Practices; well, whatever you’re into, I suppose.” Her fists clenched. “From Castamere to Casterly: A Lannister Geneology. Looking up your favourite librarian, were you?” 

Tarth twisted, noticing a handful of her fellow students watching them. She then turned back to him; jaw clenched. “I never took those books out.”

He shrugged. “No judgements, Ms Tarth. I mean, I’m partial to a little historical fiction myself.” He brought his paperback into view. “Not many people know that. Probably think I’ve never opened a book unless I have to scan it out.” 

And the half-penny dropped. “You’re an arse.”

“And you owe me three silver stags.”

Not a huge amount of money, at least not for a Lannister, but enough of an inconvenience for a poor student. Tarth dug around in her satchel and produced two stags and seven copper stars. “There. Can I do my work now?” 

“Of course.” Jaime unlocked her account and waved her through. “Happy New Year, Ms Tarth.”

And what a year it was going to be.

[starryrogue]

So some people said they wanted my extended Blathers/Tom Nook story. 

I haven't written anything like this in years. But it was a nice exercise.(its pretty rough)

So blow the cut an Idea Blather/Tom Nook, childhood friends to???

When they were boys they would stay up into the night dreaming of the opportunities of city life. The success and sophistication. The chance to grow where the same festivals happened season after season, where weeds popped up more than people. Tom Nook knew he could get out here no sweat. He’d been hacking as long as he could remember. Taking food from the unsuspecting and odd jobs where he could just to get by. Blathers never worried about that with his family but he never seemed to worry about what was in front of him. He was either focused on the tiniest of details on a hermit crab or the vastness of history behind, never on how to act on day to day. It was the most annoying quality to someone who used all his energy to survive and to plan, but it was also the most admiring. Tom could give him something as simple as an interesting rock and it was like giving his friend the universe. He would sit back and lose himself in the facts and figures that would gush out after and pretend he could be part of that universe forever. 

The one thing Blathers could never get right was astronomy, but when they lay in his back yard, Tom could weave stories in the spaces between. Quick thinking and connections. He’d always been envious of that cleverness. But what did it matter when it belonged to someone so close. He could sit back and learn about how Tom saw the world too. The knowledge way just as valuable 

Tom knew he couldn’t bear to stay in the town any longer and soon left. He was sure Blather’s who saw entire worlds in everyday life could be fine, even happy despite being. For someone as detailed oriented as Blather’s it wasn’t hard to spot when a large absence appears where your best friend used to be.

Life with Redd was exciting. It was everything Tom Nook thought he wanted. Making big money. Scamming fools for profit. Succeeding in the big city. Parties and Clubs and Fun. Art heists, back alley dealings, con after scam after ruse and bells…lots and lots of bells... And the charming devil may care fox he could spend the thrills of thievery and the late nights of drinking and partying with. A rush of a man who would help him with any of his desires in life, form the finical, to the late night personal. After a youth in poverty in a small backwater town, the money was what mattered.

Not for everyone. Blathers who prized intellect over success. Who valued passion, over profit. Who spent all night studying everything from history to entomology (the stuff of nightmares, but at least it kept him awake into the early hours). Knowledge and experience has value that bells couldn’t buy. Teaching a little sister the stars. Helping his friend start a small coffee shop. Applying over and over for universities, and grants and materials. And despite the rejection, and there were many, the study of life itself could outweigh any small inconveniences  

When Tom ever needed to get away from the hustle and bustle, or away from an unsatisfied “customer” he would always make a point to drop in on old friends. And he knew just who would want to hear his storied and who he could turn to for peace of mind. Hand him a gift and let the words wash over you and it will be like you never left. However when he went to visit Blather he could only see everything he’d run away from. The cramped apartment he shared with his sister, 2 cots separated by a wall of shared book. His closet of an office acted as a second wardrobe and workspace and sometimes a bedroom after late nights of research. The underfunded museum’s café was more often his kitchen than not, not that the barista minded the company or the small impromptu lectures on archelogy and anthropology. 

Tom thought Blathers deserved so much better. Who could live like this? Scraping by in a town whose population dwindled each year, where the donations had stopped coming in. Blathers was so smart and clever, he could be working anywhere he wanted. why stay here? He hoped his gift of a Wistful Painting would be a consolation and an invitation. A glimpse at the wealth he could have. He deserved the world. A proper library instead of a stack of second hand torn textbooks. Proper equipment and an assistant to take care of those nasty bugs, to have the bags disappear from under his deep intelligent eyes. To rest, to be rich, to be happy. 

The night before he was set to return to the city, Blather was waiting in his office by his request. It was hard to move between the clutter, the extra person and the painting.  This had been a hard one to acquire and the reason behind his latest trip from the city. The danger even leading him to flee from his safe house and split with Redd, taking his prize to safest place he knew, where no one would look and with the person he trusted most. 

Pressed up next to his friend, he watched closely for the excitement and happiness upon the opening of his gift. And while it started with the bright eyes excitement Tom had grown to admire, it swiftly shifted to confusion, to realization, to the kind of sweating fidgeting horror as if Blathers was face to face with a tarantula. 

What was supposed to be a sweet moment, a gift for a dear friend turned into an interrogation. “Where did you get this? It’s been all over the news?!” A pause and a conclusion drawn “Was it you?” More an accusation than a question.  Tom tried to justify himself, not even getting to invite Blathers into his world of wealth while on the defensive. It became clear he had not brought a prize to share, but crossed a line. He couldn’t lie to the face of his most honest friend admitting to what he had done to steal and take, how great it was to have wealth and room to grow and to be far away from this dying village in the middle of nowhere. 

Those large eyes studied him as if he were an ant, a mix of fear and curiosity instead of the enthusiastic awe tom had hoped for. Blather was unable to look away at this puzzle he needed to solvee. His eyes shifted back to the stolen goods where he found another curiosity more interesting than his dear friend turned thief.

“This isn’t even the real one.” 

“…What?”

“Does that look like a Pearl Earring to you?”

It wasn’t possible. He had removed it from the gallery wall himself. Had it stashed with him for the last week under his old bed in his childhood home (more like a shack) and no one here was bold enough to leave town, let alone steal. Only one other person knew where the painting was. Redd

He left that night, leaving Blathers with the fake painting and unanswered questions. Back at the safe house, it was clear he lost more than one painting. The place had been emptied out. Every fake watch and ID, the tools of the trade but also the things that had made this a home. The furniture gone, the silverware filched, each poster and cushion and every scrap of food disappeared. All that was left was his stripped bed, half of his clothes, a half empty bell bag and a single gingko leaf resting on the bare mattress. 

The Museum had long since closed. Paintings had been moved or sold to private bidders, the specimens had been relocated. The fossils had been the most painful. It had taken so long to finish the exhibit and it had only taken a week to take it all down. Brewster had helped him make ends meet when he wasn’t subbing a class. Blathers tried to make learning fun, but students weren’t like the patrons who had volunteered to learn. The kids would just sit and not even pretend to listen over their worksheets. Between looking for a more permanent job and the long hours at the café, there had been no time to further his studies. On the upside, this was the most sleep he had gotten in years, but it was never restful. Celeste had left for college and now grad school and so he had more space to spread out, but it just felt empty even with the piles of unread books filling the leftover space.  Behind the stacks propped on the wall, the girl with the …Star earing stared at him. He hadn’t been able to let it go but didn’t want such an insult to art looming over his home. 

Flipping through his mail of would-be bookmarks and bills, a hand written letter. His name scribbled on the top by childish hand. An invitation and brochure? The note offered him a spot as curator and surveyor of an island, a chance to run a museum of his own on a tropical get away! This was too good to be true but it made his heart flutter none the less. A place to put his specific degree and interest to the test. The whole letter smattered with personal details about his life only ignited his curiosity. Signed at the bottom T&t&t N. The enigmatic initials only another mystery to be solved then he turned to the more professional looking brochure, for a tropical getaway. A beautiful view stamped with a name that he thought he’d buried behind, but like the portrait squirreled away behind his book, he knew it was always there  

What a beautiful scam. A promise at a new start. A blank slate for those who could help build a new community. A low price in exchange for free labor? On the back, an older version of a thief, who looked as if he’d gotten away and grown fat and happy. No doubt at someone’s expense... He almost dismissed the whole thing out of hand but looking further down showed two mini versions of himself on either side. Family? Children? And further still surrounded by a smattering of smiling faces, all looking a little burnt, and a smidge filthy, with dirt under their nails and wrinkles in their clothes, but beaming ear to ear. The mark of honest fulfilling work. 

His buzzing phone pulled him out of his curiosity. 

“Hello, who may I ask is calling?”

A boy’s well practiced voice

“Hello Mr. Blather sir..sir. We are calling on behalf of Nook Inc…Inc”

A brochure. A promise of a new life. A call. A promise at a fresh start. There are no such thing but what did blathers have left to lose. At the very least it would be a nice vacation with a chance to study the local wildlife. And maybe fill that absence that always lingered in his collection of knowledge. “What happened to him?”

When he arrived, Tom saw, under years of stress, and the bags under his eyes heavier than the ones in his hands, an old friend and a chance to make amends. Blathers could see the work a former thief who was clearly trying in to right wrongs. That was clear as the pilot saluted as he left the vigor that those twins to his bag  A tent has been set up with all his equipment, right next to the amenities provided by resident services. 

As Blathers unpacked, the sun sunk low over the horizon. The cool night air breeze alerting him to someone entering. Tom, with two mason jars full of something tart with cherries and something strong to help with the vacation. A small toast, to fresh starts and new arrivals. Blathers no longer saw the thief he had given up on but a leader and a friend, who needed forgiveness. More from himself than from his friend. If he was being honest, Blather’s had stayed mad b/c it made the distance easier to bear if he could justify it. But as he was handed another drink and single. No a few. No a dozen! Specimens including a fossil.  He knew his friend has come home. 

They sat side by side on the brand new cot (only the best for the new arrival). Blather’s went on and on about each cage and tank, Tom nook felt the same wave wash over him in the pouring of word’s he hadn’t heard in years. And with each drop of knowledge that came, more of that anger leaked out of Blathers. Before he knew it he was ready to sleep, the earliest he’d felt in a while, it couldn’t be past midnight, but travel and drink and forgiveness can really where a person out. What was more pressing was the warm mass pressed into his shoulder. Tom had drifted off somewhere between the sea angel and the squid. He probably should wake him up, but resident services was all the way a few yards over, and besides, it had been years since they slept side by side under the stars. Before closing his tent for the night, he looked up at a new sky and couldn’t recognize the consolations. It was ok, they could make some up together tomorrow.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Tiny Yet Big

So here's my first of hopefully several Tibarn fics. Some with Grima, some without. This one is without cause the big bara bird boy deserves some solo love!

It's always way harder for me to write Tibarn than Grima lol, he's just so serious. But at least he's not impossible to write about

Kinda hate this title ahsbksns

_______

"Let me get this straight," Shrunken down, Tibarn flies right in front of Kiran's face, staring at him directly. "You did this," Tibarn gestures to his tiny, miniature form. "on purpose,"

"Yes," Kiran eagerly smiles, hood bouncing from their vigorous nods. Hand delicately squeezing around Tibarn's entire body, he brings him straight to his face.

"So what are you going to do now?" Kiran offers no response, humming instead. Already having set up, Kiran locks the chain around Tibarn's foot and sets him down on his desk.

"I can't have you flying off on me," Kiran pats Tibarn's head. His point proven, Tibarn immediately attempts to fly. The chain too heavy, it drags him back down.

"You're mad!" Tibarn shouts as he struggles with the chain. Transforming offers zero solution, the chain still stuck to him.

"Just a little," Kiran sits down at his desk, resting his elbows as he peers down at the struggling Tibarn. He smiles before playing with him, pushing him or tugging him whichever way like a rag doll. Having his fill of fun, Kiran holds his index finger against Tibarn's midsection. Pinning him down, his finger is nearly half the width of the miniature Tibarn. Reaching beside himself with his free hand, he pulls out a stash of unwrapped chocolate eggs, leftovers from the spring festival. Kiran picks up one of them, bringing it closer to Tibarn.

His complaints only come out as gurgles, the rounded edge of the chocolate pressed directly into his pried open mouth. Head pinned down now, Kiran removes his other finger, resting his head on it.

"Eat up, cause I'm not going anywhere until you finish," Kiran sighs, lovingly gazing at Tibarn as he struggles. Eyes shut tight, his arms scratch at the chocolate. Yet it remains unmoving, Tibarn's miniature form providing powerless despite his extreme musculature.

Refusing to give in, Tibarn remains still. Breathing through his nose, his panic slowly washes away. The chocolate fixed to his mouth, it continues to remain so, Kiran not giving up either.

The two not giving up, the chocolate itself decides for them. Body heat from the two of them, it begins to melt. Unwilling to chew on the solid chocolate, the chunks of liquid falls down into his mouth as it melts. Forced to swallow it, about a quarter of the way he feels his stomach expand, the liquid contents sloshing inside of him.

"Much better," Kiran coos, rubbing Tibarn's stomach with his thumb. Alright with his end melting, he waits it out, Tibarn slowly forced to swallow the melting chocolate. Stomach continuing to bulge out, he can only kick his feet in protest. "It's okay, soon you'll be done," Kiran soothes, brushing Tibarn's hair. "And then tomorrow you can have your breakfast," He adds to Tibarn's dismay, a pathetic whimper escaping his mouth as the last bit of melted chocolate seeps down his throat.

His burgeoning gut sticking into the air, Tibarn can't even yell or complain, his stomach doing it all for him. Lifted up, Kiran gently puts him in a little bed, already having thought this. A gasp escapes as Kiran taps his gut, the contents nearly escaping him.

Carrying Tibarn's bed, Kiran brings him to his nightstand, the two effectively sleeping side by side.

"Good night," Kiran turns off the lights, the room basking in darkness. Resting in his own bed, Kiran dreamily sighs, everything working perfectly.

The next day comes by far too quickly for Tibarn, his gut still reeling from yesterday's "meal", an entire small chocolate capable of stuffing him now. The smell of eggs and bacon, the once appetizing breakfast upsets his stomach, the thought of more food putting it on edge.

"I cut it tiny, just for you!" Kiran exclaims as he shows the plate of food. The amount relatively minimal, for Tibarn, it looks like a mountain, two scrambled eggs and two slices of bacon. "And, breakfast in bed. Eat up!" Even carrying a miniature form, Kiran pierces the food, bringing it to Tibarn's mouth.

Surviving the onslaught of breakfast just as he did with yesterday's meal, his days pass by with food constantly getting shoved in his mouth. Gut always full, the digested food slowly begins to spread to the rest of his body in the form of fat as time goes on.

Quickly growing pudgy, his little body only had so much room to store so much food. Fat saddling his body, it stays and grows out further. Kiran removing his chain one day, his smile grew even wider as Tibarn fell back down, his wings no longer able to support his massive body. Words of encouragement offered, they only bring chills up Tibarn's spine, Kiran telling him how he'll keep him well-fed and safe, never letting him go.

Proportions bloated but still human-like, Tibarn can at least walk. With tremendous difficulty, his fat filled legs pushing eachother out of the way with how much room they occupy. His old clothes long gone, he doesn't even need them anymore, his expansive fat covering his private parts. Still, Kiran always makes sure to "clothe" him with a large strip of fabric. One hole for his neck, two for his arms, two more for his wings and one final one for his legs. The fabric simply a robe, if it can even be called that.

His robe continues to tighten and constrict him, Kiran constantly making him new larger ones. Stuffed to the brim everyday, all he can do is writhe in discomfort, any other activity too painful. Eat, digest, sleep. The only three activities he really can do anymore. Growing even bigger, walking is practically out of the question, Tibarn only able to get a few waddles in before he comes crashing down. It happens without fail every time, Kiran finding him panting on the floor, scooping him into his hands as he gushes over him.

Soon becoming immobile, his only form of movement comes in Kiran, Tibarn able to fit in his hand as he carries him. His expansive blubber flowing in all directions, he can see his jowls sagging down, barely in his peripheral. His neck prohibits him from looking too far down, multiple chins squishing into it. His arms rest at a permanent incline, both too heavy for him to now lift. His breasts sag down, pecs no more. The gargantuan mounds rest on his body, the meaty, plump lumps round and engorged. His stomach encapsulates his round size, the overflowing lardy mass burying his thighs, the two massive trunks glued together with so much fat caking his form. His ass juts out behind him, the two piles of fat round.

And yet, despite his ridiculous size, he's practically barely more than a small ball, everything still a giant to his short frame.

Another morning passing, Tibarn drowsily wakes up. No midnight binge this time, Kiran not forcing him, he soon finds out why. Lifted up, still fitting into the palm of Kiran's hand, his fat bounces with each step Kiran takes. Even tossed into the air a bit, his fat quivers and jostles from the airtime, Kiran securely catching him.

Transported to Kiran's desk, Tibarn spots the food scale awaiting him. The cool metal soothing on his warm body, he simply wheezes as Kiran fiddles with the buttons.

"2.67 pounds!" Kiran cheers, scooping up Tibarn once more, bringing him to his face and cuddling against the miniature blobby Tibarn. Humming as he carries him back, he walks with a spring in his step. Placing him back on his bed, Tibarn's having broken under his weight, Kiran rummages around. Finding his book, he opens it straight to his bookmark.

Finger under the words, Kiran recites the saved spell. Confidently closing the book, he smirks as the magic works on Tibarn.

A burp escaping him, Tibarn groans. Feeling uncomfortably warm, the pit of fire in his body grows in intensity. Body pooling further outward, he moans as he grows fatter. Huffing, his body soon takes up even more of Kiran's bed, the small area he once took up insignificant with his sides rolling off the bed. Opening his eyes, he realizes his growing height. Looking around, he sees everything slowly becoming more normal, no longer dwarfing him.

Now back at his regular impressive height, the bed groans for a second before getting crushed under Tibarn's impressive expansive weight. Weight still relative, his fat spreads out before the room, Tibarn still immobile.

Kiran climbing on Tibarn's stomach, he lies down on it stretching and groaning. "It'll be nice keeping you this size for a bit, then I can test some more spells on you," Kiran pecks Tibarn's cheek. "But enough of that, it's time for your breakfast,"

[evieswritingjournal]

Writer’s Month prompt fill #12

Prompt: meet cute

Fandom: Own Characters (Mage Verse)

Warnings: None

Author’s note: I think this is my first attempt writing romantic fluff. I hope I’ve managed to pull it off!

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

"Umm," came a voice calling down the hall. "I don't suppose anyone's got a first aid kit I can borrow?" 

Grace looked up from her book and sighed. This was only the second evening she was spending away from home at university and it would seem that already one of her flatmates were causing trouble. She slowly placed the bit of cardboard she was using as a bookmark between the relevant pages and got to her feet, hoping that someone else would help. But by the time she entered the corridor it was empty, music blaring out from one shut door and laughter erupting from another.

At the other end of the corridor, near the front door that led into the stairwell that connected the other flats in this block of university halls, stood a boy clutching what looked like a piece of kitchen paper to one hand. Between them were 5 doors, one opposite her own, conveniently at the end of the hall in a hope that it would be quieter than the others, and two on either side. The boy disappeared through the kitchen doorway when he saw her.

Grace followed the boy into the kitchen, passing one or two open doorways, the rooms’ occupants studiously ignoring her presence and the cry for help.

The boy was leaning back against the sink when she entered. He was dark skinned, dressed in jeans and t-shirt emblazoned with a running fox. She didn’t recognise him, he must have been one of the two that should have moved in today. 

“Hi,” he said, waving his clasped hands in her general direction. “I hope you’ve got a plaster or two I could have? I’ve managed to cut myself on a knife.” He let a nervous sounding laugh. “What a way to start my first day at university, hey?”

“It’s not the best,” she agreed. “How badly are you damaged? I’m Grace by the way.”

“I’m David.” He withdrew the bloody kitchen paper, revealing a slice at the base of his index finger. It started slowly leaking blood again so he covered it back up. “Sorry,” he said. “Really sorry. I hope you weren’t doing anything that shouldn’t be interrupted.”

He looked down abashed, cheeks colouring. He was shy, she realised, and rather cute. 

“It’s fine,” she reassured him and fished out the first aid kit she had stashed in her cupboard only yesterday. With one hand she withdrew a packet of sterile gauze and a large plaster whilst she turned the kitchen tap on with the other. She grabbed his hand and stuck it under the tap then after a minute dried his skin with a small gauze pad. She held the gauze to the wound, feeling his skin warm up after the cold water under her fingers. “Do you mind if I use a bit of magic? Just to stop the bleeding and start the healing.”

“Sure,” he said with a smile. “Go ahead.”

She shut her eyes in concentration, feeling the warm ball of magic-fire in her chest and, picking out a tiny tendril, passed it down her arms and fingers into the skin below. Something sparked in return, the magic that dwelt inside David surfacing, investigating this new intrusion before settling again, letting Grace’s magic soothe and heal the damaged nerves and tissues.

When she opened her eyes David was staring at her, but he quickly looked away.

“What?” she asked, slightly defensive. “Was I pulling a funny face or something? My friends always say that I bite my lip when I’m using magic.”

“No, no,” he replied, a blush creeping up his cheeks again. “It’s just...you looked nice. Not that you don’t look nice now or anything.” Grace felt her own cheeks colouring. She looked around at her first aid kit as a distraction, picking up the plaster packet.

“Err…Do you want to stick the plaster on or shall I?”

“It might be easier if you do it, you look like you know what you are doing,” he waved towards the first aid kit. “And you’re prepared.”

“I’d better be, I’m studying to become a surgeon.”

“That’s so cool. I’m supposed to be studying psychology but I think I’ll probably drop out. I’m only here because my Dad wants me to follow in his footsteps and I didn’t fancy doing politics like my older brother.”

“That sucks,” she said as she flattened down the edges of the plaster. Her fingers tingled at the skin contact, not just from her use of magic. She almost didn’t want to let go of his hand, though she managed to tear herself away, stepping back to a more respectful distance. She didn’t realise she had gotten so close. Judging by the colour creeping back in David’s cheeks neither had he. “You keep that dry,” she said to break the uncomfortable silence.

“I will do what my doctor commands,” said David, blush flourishing as he stared at the floor.

“In that case,” replied Grace, feeling the heat rise in her own face, “would you mind if I checked on my patient tomorrow? Over a drink somewhere in town?”

David looked up.

“I’d like that,” he said quietly.

Heart hammering, Grace gave into the urge to flee back to her room.

“I’ll let you get on with making your dinner,” she blurted. “See you tomorrow!” And dashed out of the door.

[fairy-studies-blr]

Hey guys, this post is all about organizing your life a bit before the new semester starts. I know many of you have already started classes, but you can still implement these tips regardless (if you want to of course). I want to emphasize that this post is not meant to shame anyone for having a messy desk, backpack, or anything else. Everyone is different and what works for me will obviously not work for everyone. However, if you struggle with keeping track of your school supplies, past assignments/handouts, and/or feel as if you can’t find what you need when you need it, then this is the post for you.

Desk

Your desk doesn’t have to be immaculate, but it does need to be at least somewhat organized so that you can have all of your supplies handy, as well as a clear space to work. Before school starts, asses the state of your desk. Clear away any junk that’s managed to work its way in, and then organize what’s left. If your desk tends to get dusty, you can also use this as an opportunity to clean it with a wipe or a wet rag.

You should have a designated spot for all of your pens/pencils, post-it notes, loose papers, etc, but it doesn’t have to be fancy. It could be something as simple as deciding to keep all of your sticky notes in a pile on the right side of your desk, and all of your papers in the top drawer.

School supplies that you normally carry in your backpack I’d recommend getting duplicates of for your desk. That way you don’t have to keep pulling them out of your backpack and forgetting to put them back. As an example, I have a stash of pens in a little bucket on my desk, as well as a huge pencil case in my backpack. I also have two mini-staplers, one for my backpack and one to sit on my desk. 

If you have a laptop that you use for homework (or a tablet) you should also make sure that there’s a charging outlet within easy reach of your desk. If not, invest in an extension cord so that you can charge your device while doing your homework.

Backpack

I can’t tell you how easy it is to just cram random junk into your backpack and forget that it exists. Then when you're trying to pull out something you actually need, you can’t find it for all the crap. Before the semester begins, do a “deep clean” of your backpack. Start by dumping everything out and make two piles: what needs to be in your backpack, and what doesn’t. Your stack of what needs to be in your backpack might look something like this:

folder(s)

notebook(s)

pencil case

snacks (avoid leaving these in your bag for long periods of time though)

water-bottle/portable coffee mug

deodorant, chapstick, tampons, etc.

pepper spray (safety is no joke)

wallet

planner

This is by no means an exhaustive list. Anything that’s not in your “backpack pile” needs to be put away. My backpack sometimes gets random bits of dirt on the inside, so once it’s empty I like to go outside and try to shake all the dirt out. The next step is to re-fill your backpack, but don’t make the mistake of just stuffing it willy-nilly. Give each item a designated pocket/section and commit to always putting it back in that section after you’ve finished using it. Doing this means that even if you have a large backpack (like I do) you’ll still be able to find what you need relatively quickly. 

As a last tip, I would recommend going through your backpack at the end of each school day, and taking out anything that doesn’t belong in there permanently (think gym clothes, that snack you bought, etc.) If you have anything that you don’t want to forget to bring the next day, you can also take this opportunity to put it into your backpack so that you don’t forget it.

Papers

Invest in an accordion folder before classes start (you can get them for around $7 on Amazon). Designate a specific pocket for each one of your classes, and label them accordingly. Any handouts and graded assignments that you receive in class should go in the designated pocket for that class. It’s especially important to keep graded homework in a safe place, not only for study purposes but also because if there’s ever an issue with your grades it’s easy to resolve if you have the assignment in question.

I have one folder that I keep in my backpack, which I use as a catchall for anything my professors hand out in class. Periodically, I’ll transfer all the documents in that folder to my accordion one, and sort them into their respective sections. I receive so many handouts from professors over the course of the semester that to carry them all around in my backpack would be annoying and take up too much space.

One last thing, I never manage to fill up an entire notebook in one semester. So that I don’t waste paper, at the end of the semester I’ll tear out all the pages that actually have notes on them, and staple those notes together. I do this for each class’ set of notes, and then store the stapled pages in my accordion folder along with the rest of the papers for that particular class. This allows me to reuse the notebook the following semester, and still have my notes handy if I ever want to review the material in the future. 

Computer + Phone

It’s extremely important that you have an organized system in place for keeping track of any papers that you type on your computer. Make a folder on your computer for each semester/quarter/academic year, and label it accordingly. Within that larger folder should be separate folders for each class you have. Whenever you create an assignment, save it into the appropriate folder for that class. If you want you can also make a separate folder for more general school documents like forms, general info, etc. If you use google docs to type your papers you can actually make these folders within google drive itself, instead of on your computer.

The next thing you should do is open up whatever web browser you normally use to access school-related sites (student portal, online dictionary, google docs, etc.) Bookmark all of those sites and put them into one bookmarks folder labeled with the name of your school. This saves so much time when you need to access the sites throughout the year.

As far as your phone goes, group together all of the apps that you regularly use for studying into a “school” folder. That way you can find them quickly.

Textbooks

Keep all of your textbooks for the semester/year in one place. This could potentially be your backpack if you have the same classes every day and need to always bring your textbooks to class. If you have different classes on different days then only bring the textbooks you actually need for that day to school in your backpack. You can keep the rest somewhere else (preferably in a place that’s close to your desk and/or where you keep your backpack). If you’re afraid of forgetting to put your textbooks in your bag before leaving for school, make a habit of doing it the night before and you can also set a reminder for yourself on your phone.

You might find that for some classes you never end up using the textbook in class. If this is the case, then you could consider leaving your textbooks for that class at home (unless you plan on studying at school of course).

If you read this far, you’ll notice I didn’t talk about planners at all, and that’s because I have so much to say on the subject of planners that I decided to make a whole separate post dedicated to them. With any luck, it’ll be out by the end of the month (don’t hold your breath). Thank you for reading, and good luck on all of your studies. If you have any further questions feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment.

[duskrunsdry]

Can’t Hide - Chapter One

“You come here often?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his arm against where one would normally write their checks. His breath sweeps onto her face, and she shudders, barely holds back the comment on the tip of her tongue. 

Did you forget toothpaste, sir? Cheery customer service grin included, of course. Ignores him, and grabs the next pack of tv dinners without looking at them, or anything else. This day would be over soon, and she had a nice night ahead of her. 

Undaunted, the man leans forward farther, and the stand creaks, not made for anyone’s weight. 

“You come here often?”  the next whiff of his breath hits her, and she shakes her head slowly. Right. Of course, it was going to be one of those things. 

She grins, and stops scanning his groceries to look up at him. “No, not really. I just walk in here to randomly scan people’s groceries,” She looks around conspiratorially, and leans in, as if telling him a secret. “They haven’t actually noticed that I work here yet... Do you think they will?” She tips her head to the side, and gives him her craziest eyes. Doesn’t blink. 

The man looks stunned for a second, then frowns at her, not sure if she’s serious or not. He mutters something under his breath, and shakes his head. He backs, up, intimidated just a little. She leans forward a little more, and grins brighter at him, although her eyes were getting a little parched.  She finishes up scanning his groceries, the typical bachelor like stuff, beer, TV Dinners, and cigarettes. When she scanned the last item, she announced the total in an amazingly chipper voice, and he shoved his cash in her awaiting hand. 

“Thank you, sir! You have a nice night, now!” She waved, and when he was finally out of her sight, she shook her head. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she reaffirmed that she had only thirty more minutes of her shift, and she started to smile from the thought of finally being able to go home. It was a Friday night, and she had huge plans to sit in her bed and catch up on the book she had been thinking about all day. To sit in her warm, big bed... When she caught sight of the new customer coming to her counter she reigned in her thoughts. If she kept them on her work, then maybe time would go much quicker. 

After completing scanning the long line that had accumulated after the short break she had, she glanced at the clock again. Yes! A little after ten, but still she was off. Besides, she’d rather stay a little later than be the type of cash register that chases away the customers that come up to her just because she wanted to leave so badly. Also, she was sure that her manager would not appreciate her doing that although she had seen a number of coworkers do it before; it always was her luck to be caught at stuff like that. Turning off her light, she headed to the back room to grab her coat and her keys. Bringing a wallet late at night was just inviting anxious thoughts to vibrate in a head that had no more room for such things. 

If she needed money then she would stash a ten in her back pocket just in case something came up. She glanced at her schedule one more time to be prepared that she actually knew when she was working that week, as it was pretty rare for her to have the weekend off. Glancing around to be sure she didn’t forget anything, she headed off through the back door to start off on her walk back to her apartment. 

Readjusting her keys through her fingers to make it seem like she was Wolverine from the X-Men, a comic her dad used to read, and had always longed to be like.  She reassured herself it was just like any other night and no one would be out to get her, her apartment wasn’t that far away from the grocery store anyway, it was always better safe than sorry. 

When she saw the worn, grey door, she almost screamed in delight. It seemed as if she made it one more day alive. She pushed the door open and made the assent up to her apartment on the floor that was just below the top. Pushing the door open she had just unlocked, she was greeted by the familiar scent of home. Why did the smell of her home always make her feel so relaxed? 

She walked around her room changed into her pajamas, and got into her bed to read. As soon as she got comfortable, she heard the ringing of her telephone.  Furrowing her eyebrows, she headed into the kitchen to answer the phone. 

“Hello?” She uttered, her eyebrows still furrowed. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Maggie? Maggie, right? That’s your name?” An unfamiliar voice came through her receiver, and if it was possible, her eyebrows furrowed even more. 

“Yes, that’s my name. Who is this?” 

“It’s Britney! I work with you! You might not remember me, because you stick by yourself so often, but um, can you come in for me tonight? My grandma has gotten sick and she has no one else that can-” the voice cut off in a high snort, and she could hear a distinctly male voice in the background talk lowly to ‘Britney’. 

“Hey babe, come off the phone.. you know you want some of this..” the man spoke lowly. The girl giggled, and Maggie could hear more hushed voices.

“I’m coming baby, I’m coming... Just gotta get this over with. I need this job.” the voice became louder, and Maggie was graced with the noise of Britney’s beautiful voice again. 

“Yeah, um, Maggie, Can you come in for me? I really need to look after my Grandma,” 

Maggie pushed her hair back from her face, and ruffled it. Did she really feel like going back in after she worked all day? She glanced at her bedroom, and saw the blankets all rolled up, and sighed. 

“Britney, right?” when the girl grunted, Maggie continued, “What time were you scheduled to get off?”

“Yeah, um,” Britney thought for a moment, “ I would get off at 5.” 

Maggie made some sort of noise, and she was sure it was a cross between a snort and a scoff, then shook her head. Hell no. 

“Hey, well, I have already worked all day, and I’m already pretty tired... I’m sorry that I can’t pick up your shift, and I’d be happy to any other time, but..”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, see you some other time.” 

Before Maggie could say anything else, she was greeted by the dial tone of her phone. Feeling just a little bit used, she clicked the phone back into it’s cradle. She scoffed, and shook her head. Maggie walked back to her bed, and crawled into the still warm spot and turned the book to right where she left off. Soon, the real world faded to black, book still opened in her lap. 

---

When she awoke next morning, she was greeted by the loud thump of her book hitting the floor. She startled awake before she realized what had happened, and realized that today was the beginning of her weekend off. Feeling renewed, she threw her legs over the side of her bed, and walked towards her dresser to change out of her pajamas. Before she reached the dresser, of course, she tripped over the large tome on the floor and jabbed her arm into the corner of said dresser. She muttered an expletive, and nursed her arm close to her body. Why did she always have to do these types of things? That would be a pretty bruise tomorrow. 

Getting changed, she headed towards the kitchen and was on her way to make coffee when she heard her answering machine beep. She paused, and leaned against the counter in thought. Who would have called late at night; and had she really slept so deep that she hadn’t heard it?

She hesitantly walked towards the phone and pressed the play button. 

“Magggggsssssssssssssss,” the voice dragged out. “Why don’t you come out with us anymoreeeeeeeee? Don’t you love meeee? We’re at that bar you used to love!” 

Maggie covered her mouth to save herself from the giggle that was about to escape. Why didn’t she think of Claire? Claire was usually up all night. She must of called her while drunk. Claire was someone that she had met as soon as she moved to Seattle. Claire had clocked her, and automatically had befriended her with her quick wit. Claire was one of those people that you just couldn’t not like. 

“You are coming with us the next time we go out you bore,” Claire continued, and Maggie shuddered. It’s not like she hated to go out, she just wasn’t fond of getting crushed in the crowds of the shows they go to. It’s like no one could see her, and they always knocked and pushed on her. Clicking the save button, she figured she would show sober Claire, drunk Claire the next time she came over. 

Message saved.

She sat her hot coffee on her kitchen table, and trekked back into her bedroom to grab the book that she was reading the night before. She cursed when she realized that she hadn’t bookmarked the book before she fell asleep, and flipped through the page numbers.

She sat there for over an hour, just reading. Maggie glanced at the clock on the wall, and decided that she should probably get a move on if she was supposed to accomplish anything. She had to go grocery shopping, but had not decided whether to go to the bookstore or the record store, or even both.

She looked down at her attire, a gray flannel and a pair of jeans with just a few rips on them. She decided that it wasn’t that bad to go outside in, and to be honest she kind of didn’t care. 

She grabbed her purse, and her keys to her apartment, and sat on the arm of her sofa to put her boots on. She swept the apartment with a spare glance, looking around in case she forgot anything. She pulled the door behind her, and holding it shut, she locked it. It was one of those doors that you had to hold to lock, or it wouldn’t. She turned the handle to be extra sure it had locked, and began to walk down the stairs to the door to the outside. 

As she walked, she started to think where she should go first. Maybe to the book store first? She could store whatever books she bought in her purse, a large leather messenger bag. It was the perfect size for two books, depending on the thickness of both. While pondering the thought of where she should go, she did not pay attention to where she was walking, too concerned about where she should spend her time on that day, she ran into a large, hard chest. The person did not budge, but she repelled and landed right on her rear. 

Looking up, her eyes met large blue ones, and as she was taking the person’s face in, they were doing the same. He had a large mop of curly brown hair, and thick brown eyelashes to match.  Wow, her brain helpfully supplied.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” She met his eyes again when he didn’t say anything, and he just shook his head in response.

“No, it’s fine. I know how that is,” he ducked his head as a goodbye, and turned to walk around her. 

Still stunned by what just happened, she turned back around, and headed to the bookstore, the man’s face burned into her mind. Man, was he something. 

She pushed the doors open to the bookstore, and stopped short when she realized they would not budge. Well. She backed up, and looked at the door. There it was, in bold letters, closed. She shook her head, dejected. She was almost finished with the book she had left at home, and she did not know what else she was supposed to do tonight. She had already read most of her collection a couple times over, and she just didn’t think she could do it again. Dejected, she decided she would make her way towards the record store. This time, she made sure to keep her mind clear enough that she wouldn’t run into anyone. 

She pushed the door to the record store open, and luckily this time, the door actually opened. Smelling the smell of old record sleeves, her face erupted into a small grin. 

“Hey! Maggie, you haven’t come in here for a long time!” Mitch spoke, his voice as smooth and crackly as the records he sold. The grin on her face grew a few more inches into a full-fledged smile, and she almost skipped the whole way to him. 

“Mitch! Mitch, man I missed you! Where have you been?” her voice was full of happiness and Mitch picked her up in a hug.  

“Oh, here and there,” he winked, still holding her in the air. She wiggled, and when he let her down, she stepped away. 

“I told you to stop picking me up, Mitch! You know it strains your muscles, and who knows what else, maybe you could even-” he cut her off by poking her in the nose.  

“As much as I have been here these past few weeks, I haven’t seen your face at all. They aren’t working you too hard over there, right? You know you are always welcomed here.” He changed the subject. 

“I told you, I’m fine!” Maggie grinned, distracted. “I’m actually pretty close to my goal, you know.” She nudged him, the good news making her face glow bright. 

“I told you I don’t want your money,” he said serious, eyebrows furrowed in a  familiar look that made Maggie look down. 

“Mags... ” He murmured, but she shook her head. 

“It’s fine, Uncle Mitch.” she changes the subject this time, looking around at the shelves around her. “Anything new happened since I’ve been gone?” 

He shakes his head, and points to himself. 

“Don’t you know I’m a boring old man?” he giggles, “Tell me, what’s new in your life. Get up to anything new with Claire? Anything,” he pauses, leans forward,  “Interesting?”

She deadpans, and begins to speak in the same tone. “ Oh yeah, we had a great time the other day with that guy she wouldn’t quit talking about? ” Maggie replies without a hitch, closes her eyes and speaks in an exaggerated breathless voice, and waves her hands stupidly. “He was so great,” she waxes, but pauses, forgetting his name, “Jeff?” she intones, pulling a name out of her ass, but keeps going.  

“His fingers!” she declares, fanning herself, “He really rocked hard that night, harder than she said she would f-.” She stops when Mitch touches her shoulder, face staring decidedly past her, at someone behind her. Of course.

She stood completely still, and was seriously thinking of running away when Mitch just shook his head, and gestured to the person behind her. 

“Mags, this is Jeff Ament. He plays bass in Mother Love Bone,” he pauses, “And also is one of my regulars.”  

“Um,” he paused, still looking between Mitch and Maggie. 

“Nice to meet you, Mags,” he mumbles while stepping around her, and continues right up to the cash register without another look. 

Mitch recovers quicker than her, and casually finishes the guy up and gives him his change. Jeff doesn’t look back, and almost books it out the door, the door giving a scary rattle on the hinge. Geez. 

Only then did Mitch start to laugh, hands bracing himself on the counter in front of him. 

“Look at you, scaring my customers!” he got out between the giggles. 

Maggie narrows her eyes not fond of the teasing, still sore from embarrassing herself earlier, and changes the subject quickly. 

“What records do you have for me today?” She gestured behind him, at the pile behind him, in the spot they always were. 

He turned around, scooped the records into his arms, and plopped them right on the counter in front of her. Seeing the sheer amount of them, she began to thrum with excitement. 

“Mitch.. you have so many!” She started to flip through the titles, and seeing each one, she just grew more eager as each artist passed by. 

“Well, since you haven’t been able to see me, the amount has grown,” He gave her a long, pointed look, “I saved as many as I could, but you know I can’t keep ‘em hidden for long.” 

She nodded slowly, and opened her purse to grab her wallet.  She opened the flap on the front, and flipped through the credit card slots to find her secret stash. The money she was saving just for these situations. She flipped through the bills, counting them slowly to make sure the amount was right. 

“ I’ve got sixty, the rest I need for groceries. How many should that get me?” she positively thrummed with the thought of being able to listen to them tonight, and finish her book, and the thoughts running through her brain must of translated through her face.

Mitch chuckled, and looked through the records in front of him. He pulled out seven, and looked back up at her. 

“I’ll give you seven for fifty-six,” He tapped his pointer finger on the pile, and looked at her for confirmation. 

She looked at him, and then at the records in front of her. 

“How about this, I take five and you keep the rest of the money as tip? I insist.” She slid the money towards him before he could refuse. He smiled softly at her. 

“I don’t need that, Mags....” 

“I know you don’t need it, Mitch. I just want to thank you for always looking out for me. Even when you don’t need to, you think of me. It’s only fair! And really, you basically reserved these for me. I should give you more!”

Mitch shook his head quickly, and held his hands up in refusal. “No, No, no... I just keep them ‘cause I know you’ll like ‘em. Either way, I appreciate it, girl.” Mitch grinned big.

She grinned right back at him, and Mitch began bagging up her records in the standard paper bag. When he handed her the bag, he grinned his typical grin. 

“I’ll see you next week sometime? And you’ll tell me how much you liked those records?” He asked her, and before she could grab the bag, he jerks back.

“And?” 

“Of course, Mitch. Next week.” He nodded his head, happy with her answer. 

“See you then!” He let her take the bag, and clapped her hard on the shoulder as a goodbye. She jerked forward, not prepared for the slap, but turned around and waved nonetheless. 

Anyway, she still had to get groceries. Wasn’t she looking forward to taking them back with her on a walk. Maybe she’d get a taxi... but it was so expensive...

With that thought, she headed towards the store as her last stop of the day. 

[bibliosauruswrecks]

I’m still spending an unhealthy amount of time staring at this Rumbelle aesthetic @timelordthirteen​ made despite the fact that Christmas is over.  Consider this a continuation of what I’m now calling Part 1, because I don’t know when to quit.  I guess this means I need to give this thing a name.

Is it obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing?

It took the better part of a week for Belle to finish the deep cleaning Mr. Gold had tasked her with downstairs.  The first three days, she focused on the front sitting room and the foyer, systematically moving and returning furniture and decorations so that every cleanable surface was wiped down and polished.  Some of the larger pieces she was unable to move, so she improvised with an extendable mop.  If Gold wanted thorough, he would get thorough.

Cleaning the house gave Belle some insight into her enigmatic employer, and confirmed many of the observations she’d already made. That Gold was wealthy came as no surprise; the house was full of valuable antiques, tasteful without flaunting it, but there was nothing that felt personal.  The rooms almost seemed like set pieces for a film, designed to give the appearance of habitation to the outside viewer without actually being lived in.  The formal dining room was much the same.  Belle had no doubt Gold didn’t use any of these rooms.

The back sitting room told a different story. Situated just before the kitchen, it was smaller and more intimate.  The lighter color scheme, a soft sage green, made it considerably less claustrophobic than the rest of the house.  Compared to the front room, there wasn’t as much furniture, but the living chairs and sofa looked used.  There were other little indications, as well.  A half-finished cup of coffee left on the end table, for starters, which Belle rinsed out and placed in the dish washer.  There was also a book, and she was unable to resist taking a peek at the cover.  It was an omnibus containing The Iliad and The Odyssey, with a bookmark of emerald silk poking out about three-quarters of the way through.

But it was the spinning wheel in the corner that caught Belle by surprise.  Smaller and more compact than the more traditional wheels she’d seen, it fit perfectly in the small space.  A basket of wool waiting to be spun indicated that it saw regular use.  It was the only truly personal item she’d seen in the entire house, so far.  As she finished her work in the remaining rooms downstairs, she wondered about it.

With her father still in the hospital, Belle found the prospect of eating dinner alone on Sunday evening unbearable, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t any different from any other night that week. She grabbed her hat and coat, wrapped a thick scarf around her neck, and stepped out into the chilly night without a second thought.

It still hadn’t snowed, despite the forecast promising everything from a quarter inch to two feet for the last four days. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, and Storybrooke’s maintenance department had gotten most of the town’s decorations in place.  Fake lanterns designed to mimic old-fashioned gas lamps had been attached to most of the street lights and utility poles, and garlands with large plastic bells had been strung across Main Street.  The business owners that hadn’t already started decorating back at Thanksgiving seemed to have taken this as a signal, and there wasn’t a single storefront that didn’t have something in the windows.  With one minor exception, of course.

Gold’s pawnshop was completely dark.

He could at least put some of those fake electric candles in the window or something, Belle said to herself.  A wreath on the door.  Anything.

She supposed it wasn’t really any of her business. If Gold didn’t want to decorate for Christmas, that was his own depressing choice.  Still, as she passed the shop on the opposite side of the street, she couldn’t help but wonder.  The place was clearly locked up for the night, so it was unlikely Gold was there. Was he at home right now?  Belle let her mind conjure up an image of him in the back sitting room, jacket off, perhaps with his shirtsleeves rolled up, settled into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace while he finished The Odyssey.  Or maybe seated at the spinning wheel, working with the wool she’d seen, his nimble fingers teasing it into something usable.

You’re being absolutely ridiculous.  Belle banished the thought, and focused on getting to Granny’s before she froze.

The diner was nearly empty, but that was hardly surprising for a Sunday night.  Marco and his son occupied a table in front of the window so they could people-watch, and Leroy was parked on his usual stool at the bar.  Other than that, there were no other patrons.

Catching sight of Ruby, Belle waved a greeting as she settled down into one of the booths.  It was just moments later that her friend came coasting over with a burger and a glass of iced tea.

“How did you…?”

“I’m psychic.”  Ruby plopped herself down opposite and slid to the middle of the booth. “So, you survived your first week with the Beast.  How was it?”

“Not that bad, actually,” Belle admitted.  She poured a generous helping of ketchup on her fries.  “I mean, he’s usually already left by the time I get there, and I’m always gone before he comes home.  And the few times I’ve seen him, he’s been civil to me.  Awkward, but civil.”

“Awkward how?  Creepy awkward? I-hope-you-don’t-find-my-secret-stash-of-kinky-sex-toys awkward?”

Belle took a bite of the burger, mulling over Ruby’s question while she chewed.  “No, nothing like that.  I think he’s just unused to having someone in his house.  He seems like an intensely private person, and having me there’s probably thrown his whole routine out of whack.”

“Yeah, he strikes me as the anal-retentive type.” Ruby pilfered a couple of fries from her friend’s plate.  “So, you found the bodies of his ex-wives in the basement yet?”

Belle choked on her iced tea.  “What?  No!”

“I’m joking.  Pretty sure it was just the one.  And the divorce was messy, but I don’t think there were any bodies involved. Might’ve been some blood.”

“I’m trying to eat, Ruby.”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all as she pinched another fry.  “So, you got any big plans for Christmas?”

“Not really.  It’ll just be me and Dad, assuming they release him next week.  I doubt he’ll be up for a big celebration.”

“Think you’d feel up for some decorating?”

Belle raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sensing an ulterior motive here.”

“Granny’s leaving the decorating to me this year. She’s giving me free reign, and I intend to make the most of it.  Holly, mistletoe, tinsel.  The works.”

“Only you could make that sound ominous.”

Ruby shrugged.  “I aim to please.  Anyway, the point is I may’ve gotten a bit too carried away.  I’ve been dragging out boxes and boxes of decorations, and I’m starting to realize I’ve bit off more than I can chew.  There’s no way I’ll get everything up in time by myself.  But two people…”

“You want me to help you decorate.”

“It’ll be fun!  You can stay after closing, we’ll put on some carols, throw tinsel all over the place, and get plastered with eggnog.  It’ll be good for you.”

As Belle mulled over her burger, she conceded that it sounded like fun.

“Good!” Ruby chirped.  “I’ll drag everything out from the hall while you finish eating. Marco and August’ll be on their way soon, and I’ll kick Leroy out at closing.  This is gonna be great!”

She purloined a couple more fries before scrambling up to get Marco’s check, leaving Belle to finish her burger in peace.

Half an hour after Ruby had locked up and closed down, Belle found herself standing in the middle of a tinsel explosion while “Run, Run, Rudolph” played in the background.  What she’d thought was a set of multiple garlands in a box had turned out to be a single and apparently endless strand of shiny red tinsel.  The box, she decided, was also bottomless because she was sure there was no way the entire thing could fit in there.  The strand snaked out of the box, up around her neck, wound its way down her torso, and ended in a massive pile at her feet. And there was still more coming.

“This is impossible,” Belle declared, wrapping part of the strand around her arm just to get it out of the way.  “Granny’s using stolen Time Lord tech, isn’t she?”

“How else do you think she fits all that lasagna in the freezer?”  Ruby offered her a glass of eggnog.  “You want some help with that?”

“Please.”  Belle sipped the eggnog while her friend unwound the tinsel.  “Just how long is that thing, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.  I mean, I’ve never actually measured it.  I just know it’s long enough to get completely around the diner if you hang it in the doorway and don’t run it down the hall.  If you do that, it’ll reach all the way to the bathrooms, but it won’t make it back, so then you’ve got this big gap you’ve gotta fill and – ooh!”

A pair of glittery red antlers attached to an equally-glittery headband tumbled out of the tinsel.  Ruby pounced on them.  Belle eyed the antlers with more than a little skepticism.

“Are you really gonna wear those?”

“Absolutely!  Magpie brain likes the shiny!”

“How much eggnog have you had?”

“Not enough,” Ruby pronounced, taking a sip of her own.  “I’m wearing these for the rest of the year.”

“The antlers.”

“Yes!  Antlers are an important part of Christmas festivities!  A necessity!”

“You’re going to wear reindeer antlers.  For the rest of the year.”

“Well, I’ll take them off to shower, obviously. And I’ll probably have to take them off to sleep.  Don’t want to get them all tangled up in my hair.  I wouldn’t look like a Christmas reindeer, then; I’d look like a reindeer that just got hit by a car.”

Belle snickered into her eggnog.  “Yeah, I don’t think Granny would appreciate you scaring customers away with your Christmas cheer.”

“Better to scare people off with cheer than being the town Scrooge.  I don’t know how Gold does any business this time of year.”

“Being the only place in town that sells jewelry might have something to do with it.”

“True.  But, hey!” She grabbed the garland and bounded away in a shower of red glitter.  “Let’s not talk about that old miser, and get to decking some halls!”

With Ruby’s unbridled enthusiasm and Belle’s meticulous eye, the pair set about decorating the diner.  It took almost three hours, and Belle didn’t tumble into bed until sometime after midnight, but having seen the end results, she agreed with Ruby that it was worth it.

The snow the forecasters had been threatening the Maine coast with was definitely coming.  Gold was sure of it.  He leaned against the counter to take the weight off his bad foot, and took a deep breath in through his nose, trying to focus on anything except the throbbing pain.  The temperature had dropped ten degrees since that morning with no signs of stopping soon. He glanced at the clock.  It was still too early to take another pain killer, not that it seemed to matter.  If this was how bad it was with medication, he’d hate to see it was without it.

He supposed he could always close up early.  One of the benefits of being self-employed was the ability to make one’s own hours, and any business someone had with him could just as easily be done tomorrow.  Another white-hot lance of pain shooting through his ankle made the decision for him.  Gold closed down and locked up, scowling at the Christmas decorations as he stalked to his car.

It really was quite ridiculous the amount of time and effort Mayor Mills put into decorating for the holidays.  It wasn’t as if Storybrooke had a reputation as a tourist destination, particularly during the winter.  Day-trippers weren’t uncommon during the spring and summer, autumn brought the leaf-chasers, and Granny’s bed-and-breakfast saw the occasional overnight visitor, but like the rest of coastal Maine, winter was the off season.  Gold saw little point in trying to impress a disinterested public.

His disapproval must’ve shown on his face, because Dr. Hopper, approaching from the opposite direction with his dog, quickly side-stepped to get out of the way.  He passed by without offering a “Merry Christmas,” or even any of his usual chirpy greetings.  Gold supposed it was inevitable.  Most of the town had given up on wishing him the compliments of the season, with the exception of a few relentless enthusiasts like David and Mary Margaret Nolan, but they were the sort of people who started celebrating Christmas in October, so their behavior was forgivable if a bit nauseating.

The first flakes had started falling by the time Gold pulled up in the driveway.  He sat for a moment rather than getting out right away, massaging his knee in some vain hope that it might help.  It didn’t, but after all, he reminded himself with a touch of bitterness, it was the thought that counted.  The idea of limping back around to the front of the house didn’t appeal to him, so Gold made his way to the patio door to let himself in through the kitchen, instead.

The soft strains of classical violin caught him off guard, and he froze for a moment while his brain tried to process why there was music in his normally-silent house.  Then he spotted the purse on the kitchen counter.

Right.  It was the middle of the day.  Belle French would still be cleaning.  That belated realization was closely followed by the woman herself.  Belle glided into the kitchen, wielding what appeared to be a curtain rod, and stopped short when she spotted her employer by the back door.

“Mr. Gold.  Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Miss French. I simply closed up early today.” Why the hell hadn’t he considered that Belle would still be here?  How was he meant to relax with her in the house?  He supposed he could send her home early.  Yes, that would work.  Send her home early, and he could pretend to ignore his agony in peace.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll stay out of your way.”

Gold was fairly certain by now there was a loose connection somewhere between his mouth and his brain, because that hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all.

“Good.”  Those bright blue eyes darted up and down, and seemed to land on his cane briefly, before shooting back to his face.  “I mean, that’s fine, I’ll just be finishing here. I mean, I’m almost done with the sitting room, and I’ll be out of your hair, soon.”

His presence was making her nervous, if the way she fluttered back to the other room was any indication.  He shrugged out of his coat, and draped it over the back of a chair rather than walk all the way to the front of the house to hang it on the coat rack.  The very thought made his entire leg twinge. Timing be damned; he was taking another aspirin.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Gold hobbled his way over to the kitchen sink, grabbing a glass as he went. He filled it from the tap, retrieved the aspirin bottle from the overhead cabinet, and tipped two tablets into his hand.  He tossed the pills into his mouth, and quickly followed them with the water. The last thing he wanted was for Belle to find him choking on an aspirin.  He rested his palms on the counter, allowing his hands to take his weight and give his foot a slight reprieve while he gazed out the window.

The snow was coming down in big, fat flakes now.  It didn’t appear to be a heavy snow, not at the moment, at least.  The snowflakes meandered, spiraling downward in a slow dance before eventually coming to rest on the lawn.  There was something quite mesmerizing about it.

A loud thud and a whispered “Oh, bloody hell!” broke Gold out of his reverie.  Standing by the sink, the sitting room was just out of his sight, but he could hear Belle moving around, grumbling to herself. Curiosity finally got the better of him, and Gold limped past the stove and around the counter to see what was causing his maid to curse like a sailor under her breath.

Belle was perched on the back of the sofa, fighting with the curtain rod.  She’d discarded her shoes once again, and Gold found her red-and-white-striped stockings drew his eye right up to her—

Stop it!  He was veering dangerously into lecherous old man territory.  He set his attention instead on the curtain rod Belle was still combating.  It was no longer bare; she’d obviously replaced the curtains while he’d been watching the snowfall, and now she appeared to be trying to return the rod to its rightful place above the window.  With little success, it seemed.

“Miss French?  What are you doing?”

“I took the curtains down to give them a proper cleaning earlier today, and now I can’t get them back up.”  She fumbled with the rod some more, huffing in frustration.  “Odysseus dispatched the suitors with less difficulty.”

“Yes, but if I recall, he had the benefit of a goddess’s patronage.”

She craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him, her eyes alight with that spark seen in any bookworm who’d just found a kindred spirit in the wilderness.

“True.”  She smiled, and her whole face changed.  Gold had known, intellectually, that she was a beautiful woman.  He’d likened her once to a cameo broach he had on display in the shop: elegant and tranquil, with a gracefulness despite the lack of animation, but her smile… With her smile, Belle was positively radiant.

Then she looked away, and the spell broke.

Gold told himself he’d started gripping his cane so tightly because his bad leg needed the support, and not because he wanted to hide the fact that his hands had started shaking. The strange flip-flopping in his stomach was almost certainly from the glass of cold water he’d downed with the aspirin.  He had a little more trouble explaining away why his heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, but surely he could come up with a reasonable justification, given enough time.

Belle readjusted her footing as she attempted to find a better angle for the curtain rod.  Gold almost offered to help, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, the loose connection resumed operation again long enough to remind his brain why it would be a bad idea for him to stand on a step-ladder.  He limped over to the end table, intending to grab his book and relocate to another part of the house.  Before he could do so, Belle slipped.

Gold reacted on instinct, stepping forward on his good leg while his cane clattered to the floor. The curtain rod joined it a second later when Belle’s arms pinwheeled in a vain effort to steady herself as she tumbled backward into his arms.  He caught her about the waist, and her hands came to rest around his neck, fingers clutching at his shirt collar.  One foot was still on the back of the couch; the other was wedged down between the cushions. The near-horizontal angle had to be uncomfortable for her, but Gold found himself incapable of doing anything about it.  Just breathing proved to be an issue.

It was the first time he’d ever been this close to Belle, or indeed any other person, in what felt like a lifetime, and he was unprepared for the torrent of emotions that barreled through his mind as his brain tried to process this information.  Incoherent feelings and fleeting impressions bounced around in his mind attempting to coagulate into some form of rational thought. He was touching Belle.  Belle was touching him.  He liked it. He shouldn’t.  He needed to let go.  He didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure why.  She was so soft, so warm, and he marveled at how she could appear so delicate, but so strong at the same time.

His heart was pounding again.  He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.  A tiny, malicious part of his brain whispered that he still had his arms around Belle’s waist, but then she smiled again, and he decided he didn’t care.

“Thanks.”  Her voice was low, almost breathless.

“It was nothing.”

“You can, um— you can put me down now.”

Gold blinked. “Oh!  Right.”

He shifted a little, allowing Belle to brace her hands against his shoulders and get her feet back on the floor without tumbling over himself.  Before he had a chance, she bent down to retrieve his cane.  He leaned onto it, relieved to take some of his weight off his good leg.

“Thank you, Miss French.”

“You’re welcome.” Belle fidgeted, running her palms over her skirt to smooth out non-existent wrinkles.  “I should get back to work.”

“Indeed.”  Gold grabbed his book, and started back to the kitchen.  He made it as far as the counter before he turned around and called out, almost as an afterthought, “Miss French?”

Belle, bent halfway over in the middle of grabbing the curtain rod, looked up at him.  “Yes?”

“Do try to be more careful. My reputation in this town would never recover if my housekeeper broke her neck in my living room.”

He expected a nod, or perhaps a polite smile.  Belle took him by surprise with her decidedly-unladylike snicker at his quip. She was laughing at him.  No, with him.  His self-deprecating jibe had made her laugh.  Gold pivoted on the balls of his feet, disregarding the twinge of protest his ankle made, and returned to the kitchen.

With his back to her, Belle couldn’t see the faintest hint of a lopsided grin that had formed on his face.

[ardwynna]

There was a gift bag. A beautiful gift bag, all purple and floral, with gold elements speaking to my soul. But I had no occasion to need a gift bag, and no occasion coming up to be getting one myself. I bought it anyway. Then I rustled up some very cheap, basic notebooks I have stashed, and few other odds and ends, peeled that gift bag apart and got to cutting and pasting.

I now have a large notebook, a pocket notebook, two mini post-it holders, and a bookmark, with just little scissors chips of the gift bag left over. I could have gilded the pages edges, I do have supplies for that, but these are still very cheap notebooks that will see heavy use, and I didn’t want to spend that much time on it. So marker colored edges it is, green like the post-its even if you can’t see them here.

I always did like decorating my notebooks, it’s a mood lifter to take notes in pretty stationery, but I feel like I really stepped up my game with this one, and I can’t wait to do it again.