#so i can avoid overwatering him

[drawnecromancy]

aw I think i manage to tell when my plant is thirsty now :D

[adaptacy]

A Found Flame {Pt.2}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: Gonna cross-post this to AO3 eventually once I have more of an idea of how the plots gonna go cause you all have convinced me to full-send it and make it a longform thing. just adding it to the list of wip.... a sincere apology to my tcm fics.... anyways! i love my little depressed magic-cancer nerd and im glad im not the only one. here's more of him :) [it wont all be angst, but i gotta set the scene and the stakes, yanno...?] ALSO 'a found flame' is just the working title, idk what the official one is gonna be but i'll let yall know when i figure that out

Word Count: 3.1k

Stepping outside grants you an opportunity to taste the last flavors of the fading winter, only feeling the quick spikes of a chill every few minutes, and even then, it’s only thanks to the setting sun. You still wear a purple velvet shawl, as per the request – well, demand – of Gale. He insisted many moons ago that you shouldn’t ever risk getting sick when you can take measures to avoid such a fate, and you’d decided it was much simpler to go along with it than to argue your safety. That plan was cemented when he purchased you a finely tailored purple shawl, the edges of the hood and cloak lined with lynx fur, dyed a dark pink to complement the thick purple velvet that made up the majority of the shawl. A gift that nothing short of surprised you, even had you fooled into believing you’d been dreaming when he presented it to you. Why he was so particularly fearful of the cold, you weren’t sure, but you deeply appreciated the gift, and even if you did enjoy winter’s nip, the shawl was both gorgeous and comfortable, and you’d be insane to leave it behind.

Gale was also particularly sensitive to cold weather, from what you could tell, which likely had a role in his passionate bias against the chilliness of post-snow air. Frankly, you were fine with the occasional runny nose in exchange for a chance to wander down a snow-dusted forest trail, and you didn’t mind a shiver here and there while you caught free-falling flakes that Waterdeep was ever so rarely granted. 

The garden, however, was much like Gale – hardly a fan of the cold. Gale did not have a green thumb, but he still shared similarities with the plants you tended. Those plants that, currently, were dead and buried. While you’d managed to convince him to try his hand at herbalism and gardening, he had more of Bhaal’s touch with the sprouts than the ‘magic’ touch he so often joked about. It was amusing, and a little pitiful; the exasperated sigh and the troubled frown that followed your breaking of the news, that his poorly packed and overwatered plants had passed. He was dramatic, and managed to find the humor in the situation, though vowed to let you handle anything to do with seedlings and crops from that point onwards.

It was unfortunate, as you appreciated his entertaining company (even if it came mostly in the form of griping, displeased that he had to get so up close and personal with dirt and worms) around the garden beds, but it allowed for moments like these. Truth be told, you had no intention of gardening. You would have to wait another twelve dawns until any useful plants would be back in season, so planting anything this late in winter would be a waste of both time and resources. 

Instead, you aimed to explore a small forest trail that you’d just recently discovered, not far from the tower you stayed at. To say you lived there felt like too strong, too certain, of a term. It was the only place you slept, and nearly all of your time was spent there, but you knew it wasn’t home. It was Gale’s home, and you were a mere guest. A sixteen-month-and-counting guest, but a guest nonetheless. You worked, your apprenticeship laboursome and sometimes really quite demanding, and Gale repaid your loyalty and assistance by giving you a place to stay. You’d just never planned to stay so long. 

In all honesty, you expected it to be a very temporary arrangement. You suspected Gale felt the same way. But circumstances changed, and so did minds, and you didn’t see yourself leaving anytime soon. It helped that you got along quite well with your boss-slash-roommate, despite the differences in personality and age. You were comfortable with the way things were, and Gale had just recently begun to sprout ideas of passing his own spell-casting knowledge on to you, with today’s lesson being a prime example. When you weren’t helping out around his home, or running errands for him, or tending to the garden, you were most usually subjected to reading long passages from books that were once very far above your understanding. 

If Gale was a master of anything, it was surely knowledge. You’d found it odd, at first. Spending all of his days wasting away in his tower, just reading, rotting into a hermit, you’d assumed. But you’d soon gained an appreciation for his boundless mind, and felt almost honored that he’d decided you worthy of learning from him. Being a wizard’s apprentice had never been in the plans, not even as a fleeting hypothetical, and yet you found yourself in that exact scenario – and enjoying it nonetheless! 

Glancing down at the small woven basket hanging from your arm, you frowned, lost in thought. Gale taught you a lot, and he still had plenty left to teach, but by no means did that translate over to you really knowing the man you shared a house with. He taught from books and scrolls, and on a few spare good days from his own vast experience. Even with all of the lectures he gave, you found that any details about him that weren’t related to magic, or your lessons, were all quite lacking. What you did know about his personal life was almost purely from observation. 

Well, a few times when Tara had made a passing comment about some personal detail and surely was later scolded for it, but those were few and far between. If anyone were to blame for your curiosity, it was most certainly the man himself. He loved preaching the importance of curiosity, exploration (despite rarely leaving the confines of his study), and seeking knowledge, and you’d be a rather poor apprentice to disregard such lessons. Or, arguably worse, cherry pick when you applied those lessons to real world scenarios. 

Most recently, your nose for curiosity had picked up on the notably pungent scent of Gale’s behavior. It was unusual, slightly withdrawn, perhaps a little panicked if you truly squinted between the lines. Gale was predictable, for the most part – it was one of his traits that had earned him your trust in the first place. Though as of recent, he’d been rather strange. And not the typical Gale kind of strange – an unsettling, uncharacteristic strange. One that you knew better than to ask questions about, but one that certainly sprouted confusion. 

You neared the edge of the forest, giving the pale trees a smile as if to promise your peace. Pausing just before the tree line, you peered into the woods, interested as to what you might discover. You proceeded, following a very faint trail into the woods. You had a pretty solid confidence in your navigational skills – otherwise you most definitely would’ve gotten completely trapped in the maze of a city that was Waterdeep every time you ran any sort of errand – so you weren’t particularly concerned with getting lost. 

Allowing your thoughts to return to Gale, you reminded yourself that you weren’t really lying to him. You definitely weren’t going to the garden, but you still planned on harvesting plants. You’d known him for almost a year and a half, and you knew the gist of what he’d been through, what with his mentorship from Mystra herself – which was so cool, and he was way too casual about it – and his strange appetite thanks to the Netherese orb that had become one with him. All that aside, however, you didn’t know many details about his past. For as chatty and sarcastic as he was, you couldn’t shake the feeling he had a good number of secrets he withheld from you, and big ones at that. 

Of course, Gale was entitled to his privacy, and you didn’t want to intrude or push his boundaries, but it was impossible to ignore the signs of unease. His constantly drifted mind, his long breaks between lessons, his increasingly frequent requests. Or the way that he’d direct you to read a passage from some folktale or other, only to remain silent for several moments after you finish, gazing longingly past his balcony. He’d been consuming more artifacts than usual recently, and gained a sudden eagerness to push real world practice into your schedules. Not that you minded the inflow of new information, but it didn’t seem to come from a place of excitement. Instead, you figured anxiety; judging based off of the common rapid bouncing of his leg, the messy-and-messier spread of his books and trinkets – especially when compared to how well-kept the place always was whenever you’d started working under him – or his new tendency to forget what he had and hadn’t asked of you, or which lessons he’d already covered, or hell, where he had last placed his staff. 

Well, what better way to get someone to open up and relax than with a hand-picked bouquet and some herbal tea? 

Even if he didn’t spill his guts to you, he certainly needed a pick-me-up. Sure, you already did a lot for him, but he did a lot for you, too. Maybe even more than he realized. He deserved a treat. 

–   –   –

“Though it may be bold of me to say, I estimate they’ll be a fine caster someday.”

“Bold indeed, Mr. Dekarios. Awfully bold. They quite nearly began trembling at the idea of a mere fire bolt!” The small beast chirped back, seated firmly atop his desk, pawing at a small fuzzy ball that swung from a thin string, easily entertained by the simple contraption. 

“Even I stumbled; all beginners do. Time is all they need. ‘Time heals all wounds’, is that not how the scriptures read?” He asked, sticking his tongue out and running the tip of a long harpy feather over it. 

As he dipped that same tip in a vial half-filled with a thick, clear liquid, Tara quickly outstretched a wing, the end of it not-so-accidentally hitting her companion in the face. The startle nearly caused him to knock over the bottle of magic ink, his torso leaning forward as he just barely managed to steady it with both hands, and he glared at his familiar out of the corner of his eye. She merely stretched out her other wing, feigning obliviousness before eventually looking back at him. “You are still the same fool who summoned me all those years ago. You are a prodigy, Mr. Dekarios! You were half their age then; to compare your ‘stumbles’ to the incompetence of a commoner such as them is exhaustively inconceivable.” 

“Tara, I implore you to exercise patience. They are a fine apprentice, and they certainly have the potential for brilliance. Am I not a competent mentor?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, intending the question to be at least somewhat thought-provoking, but the only reaction he received was Tara turning her head away and murmuring something too quiet for Gale to hear. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he knew her well enough to predict it was something snarky, and he didn’t bother investigating. He dipped the large quill again, unable to recall if he’d already wet the tool, and the liquid dripped off of the tip, shimmering in the glint of the fading sun as it rejoined the rest contained in the bottle. “Why is it that you repudiate all of their attempts to bond with you? Surely you don’t think them ill-mannered?”

“‘Ill-mannered’, he says,” she mocks, her tail flicking in irritation. “It is not their civilities that I have quarrels with. It is the expectations I deplore.”

“Expectations?” Gale repeats, his palm flattening against his desk, pressing out the sides of a contorted scroll, the tip of the feather hovering over the yellowed paper. 

After solving her own deliberation, the tressym turns around, her wings folding against her sides, her tail curling around her paws. “Have you no fear that your confidence is misplaced? Mr. Dekarios, do you not worry that they may fall short in your plans for them? That they are not up to the task you have decided to burden them with?”

Gale’s irritated gaze softens, his hand relaxing, coming to join his other hand in resting on the desk. The clear liquid on the quill drips onto the parchment, becoming a black dot in an instant, the weave-infused iridescent ink soaking seamlessly into the paper. “I fear nobody could ever truly be capable. But my options are limited, and my few select choices are each disheartening in their own cruel ways.”

“Evidently, you have already made up your mind. Why is it that you allow them to remain oblivious? You know better than anyone how dire the circumstances are.” Tara’s paws slide forward, her belly laying flat on the desk, and she plants her head atop of her mitts. 

Gale moves his hand, letting the paper curl up without the weight, to gently scratch Tara’s head, her pitying purr drawing a sigh from his own chest. “I am but a ticking time bomb. Hardly much of a man these days,” he chuckles dryly, looking around the dust-riddled mess that he still called a study. It would be nothing short of anarchy if it weren’t for his apprentice, and he’s seen it in far worse shape, but it doesn’t quite shake the quiet guilt that rocks in his stomach at just how far he’s fallen. Gale is usually quick to excuse his carelessness as an incurable consequence of his age, but he’s well-aware that his energy is not merely being lost alongside his youth. 

The artifacts he consumes have only ever satiated a part of the orb’s appetite. Never quite satisfied – a commonly reoccurring trait of those Gale finds himself engaging with – the sortilege feeds off of him as well. The incantations he recites and the thaumaturgy he practices only grows stronger – more powerful than Gale could have ever predicted or wished for – while his body withers away as though his very anatomy is actively being shredded, and relentlessly so, to make room for spells that he now dreads casting. 

It doesn’t help that his learned reliance was only ripped away from him when he truly needed assistance. When the man who once considered himself the smartest in all of Faerun was clueless about his own condition, the only person who could possibly have the answers disappeared. 

Now, Gale was left to clean up the pieces. He understands this is his own doing – that he was, and still is, a fool. Once blinded by greed, a greed that led him to being blinded by love, a love that led him to being blinded by desperation, a desperation that led to him being trapped by fear. A fear that now has settled, more or less. Present as ever, but no longer unfamiliar, no longer a new addition to Gale’s emotions.

His hand returns to the paper, and Tara steadies her sights on the bottom of the quill, watching as it twirls, imprinting promises and bittersweet apologies onto the scroll. Words he couldn’t possibly utter aloud, but words that couldn’t be more genuine. The recipient deserves more than a written explanation and cursive laments, and he’s aware of the injustice he’s manufacturing, but he is a terribly faded man who is cursed by a deficiency in time and yet finds himself with so much left to do. He decides it is better a raven on her doorstep than his ghost, lacking any explanation. 

Each day, he wakes to find his chest a little warmer, his hands a little shakier, his hair a little thinner. And each day feels like his last. He is entirely helpless to the foe that resides inside of him, of all places. Incapable of defending against something that has already breached his castle walls, and even more useless as it has latched under his skin, reducing him to nothing more than a habitat. He hosts an aberration that has grown far, far too large for its enclosure, and who threatens to rupture its cage with every breath that he dares to draw. 

He’s held out for long enough. He’s lived longer than he ever imagined possible, but he knows his limits. The truth stings in places untouched by the Netherese’s reaches; his forced composure starts an ache in his face, but he knows better. With a sharp inhale, Gale rolls up the paper, setting down the large brown feather as he retrieves a thin, fraying string, tightly wrapping the letter up. He even finishes it off with a neat bow, a force of habit, and he sets it aside, leaning back in his chair. 

The moon is just barely visible now, approaching the stars and creeping over the mild coverage of the stone railings on his balcony, and the wizard watches the white giant rise. Some unburied, deep sense of longing reflects in his eyes, where the moon also resides, though she is much smaller and much dimmer. There’s movement on the desk, but Gale’s eyes aren’t yet drawn away from the beauty of the night. Then there’s a weight in his lap, and a purring against his stomach, and he lowers his hand to rest on Tara’s back, gently stroking, enjoying the silent tranquility. 

‘Mystra’s moon’ he used to call it. He’d tell her he could see her in the shadowed curves, but he isn’t sure if he ever really did. Maybe in a dream, long lost to him now. The moon that watched over him tonight was certainly not Mystra’s. It was bright, encasing the room in a beautiful blue, and the gaze it returned was a soft one. Free of judgment, free of stress, free of difficulty. 

“I reckon I’ll be up there soon,” he exhales, feeling his familiar curl up in his lap. “Ruling my own section of sky. Perhaps I’ll even have purpose. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like.”

“Peaceful, I suspect. An eternity of peace, at that. What a prospect.”

“You’ll join me some day?” 

The feline purrs out a quiet chuckle, her tail curling around her body so the tip rests on her nose, bundled perfectly atop his thighs. “Of course. I can only go so long without a self-warming bed.”

Gale smiles, his hand falling still on her back, though his thumb continues to run up and down her fur. “Give them a chance, will you? They can’t do it without guidance.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Tara reassures, her tone much softer now than when she spoke of his apprentice earlier. “Do wait for me up there. I’ll be by your side before long, Mr. Dekarios.” 

“I set out tomorrow night. I’ll inform them of what they need to know.”

[erabundus]

@custosavis &&. said... there is some silly liyue wives' tale about an almighty adeptus drawing near when the wind whistles through the boughs of the trees. fallacy. and yet the wind whips ominously through the upper branches of the large sumeran tree as he manifests himself there. moves swiftly and silently down like one of the native jungle cats. and then he's abruptly hopping down the last branch to sit beside ren with childish intent to startle, wordlessly dropping a parcel into his lap. "the wind told me." the wind. or his loose-lipped partner. same thing, really. inside is a package of the horrendously bitter medicinal drops that bubu pharmacy makes, and a small, ornate charm made from an intricately-carved disc of adeptal amber. "it staves off evil. and... acts as an extended focal point for me, should you call." he looks into the distant forest, sitting near but comfortably avoiding the eye contact. "-- i... i haven't made one of those in a long time." wherever you should roam; if you need me, i'll be there.

he's  minding  his  business,  tucked  away  in  the  thickest  part  of  sumeru's  verdant  forests.  despite  the  wanderer's  best  efforts  to  keep  it  a  secret,  it  seems  others  have  endeavored  to  make  HIS  BIRTHDAY  quite  the  dramatic  affair  —  and  while  a  part  of  him  feels  stirrings  of  genuine  appreciation  (  even  if  he  cannot  understand  why  anyone  would  go  out  of  their  way  for  his  sake  )  he  can  only  stand  being  forced  into  the  spotlight  for  so  long  before  he  feels  himself  begin  to  wither  and  rot  like  an  OVERWATERED  PLANT.  ren  needs  these  fleeting  moments  of  solitude  like  living  creatures  require  air  to  breathe.  as  per  usual,  he  has  found  himself  joined  by  a  litany  of  local  fauna.  birds,  predominantly  —  he  would  not  be  particularly  surprised  to  know  the  tree  he's  chosen  to  perch  in  is  actually  their  home.  fortunately,  they  don't  seem  too  perturbed  by  his  company.  on  the  contrary,  a  little  songbird  flutters  over  to  land  on  his  outstretched  finger  and  chirps  enthusiastically.  ren  hasn't  a  clue  what  it's  trying  to  say,  but  the  sight  has  a  smile  lighting  up  his  face  nonetheless.

he's  so  preoccupied  with  his  tiny  companion  that  he  doesn't  notice  xiao's  presence  until  the  other  practically  MATERIALIZES  on  the  branch  beside  him.  ren  jumps,  swallowing  a  shout  —  and  startles  the  bird  in  the  process.  (  whom  he  can  only  assume  proceeds  to  CURSE  HIM  before  flying  away.  )  ❝  xiao  —  ?  ❞   is  as  far  as  the  wanderer  gets ( squawks )  before  a  package  is  dropped  so  unceremoniously  in  his  lap.  a  few  seconds  pass  as  his  mind  seems  to  lag  behind,  trying  to  make  sense  of  the  sight.  the  conqueror  of  demons  does  not  seem  the  type  to  CONCERN  HIMSELF  with  birthdays  —  and  yet,  neither  is  ren.  looking  up,  lips  part  to  QUESTION  HIM  —  but  his  companion  provides  an  answer  before  he  has  the  chance  to  ask.

the  wind,  he  says.  of  course;  it  seems  all  the  gods  are  conspiring  AGAINST  HIM. ❝ is that so ...  ❞ the wanderer mutters, undisguised sarcasm all but dripping from every word. he purposefully rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the gift.

deft  fingers  open  the  parcel  with  undue  care.  he  blinks  at  what  he  mistakenly  thinks  is  candy  —  only  for  the  distinctly  BITTER  scent  to  wash  over  him.  interesting.  though  before  he  has  the  chance  to  SAMPLE  THEM,  fickle  attention  then  flicks  to  the  other  half  of  the  gift.  he  extracts  the  charm,  holding  it  up  so  the  amber  glints  warmly  in  the  sun.  quite  the  appealing  feat  of  artistry;  the  sort  of  thing  ren  would  hold  and  run  a  curious  thumb  over  every  groove  like  one  would  a  worry  stone.  he  hums  quietly  when  xiao  speaks,  and  seems  to  know  instinctively  from  the  fragile  tone  of  his  voice  that  the  adeptus  is  presumably trying  to  avoid  making  eye  contact  as  if  HIS  LIFE  depends  on  it.  ❝  ...  i'll  take  good  care  of  it.  ❞   ren  says  —  a  simple  response  that  hopes  to  convey  his  deep  gratitude  in  the  most  MERCIFUL  way  possible.  his  more  innocent  self  once  saw  the  world  as  rife  with  many  treasures;  the  wanderer  thinks  one  rests  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.

❝  since  you've  gone  through  the  trouble  of  hunting  me  down,  i  suppose  i  have  to  give  you  SOMETHING  for  your  efforts.  ❞  head  cants.  his  tone  makes  it  quite  clear  he's  plotting  —  although  the  alternative  would  no  doubt  be  more  SURPRISING.  ❝  in  that  case,  i  guess  i'll  just  bequeath  my  entire  BIRTHDAY  CAKE  to  you.  ❞

[bookcrowley]

Zira winces and closes Crowley's laptop. He knew he wasn't supposed to be snooping on his husband's new account, but he'd always been helpless against his curiosity. Now, however, he felt caught out between his desire to help a friend in need, and his desire to avoid Crowley's smug smirk . The blasted demon always knew when he'd been doing something... less than angelic.

"I was wondering, darling," he mused, feigning nonchalance. "What sort of houseplant might you recommend for someone with occasional executive disfunction due to depression?"

"Quit readin' my tumblr," Crowley replied immediately. He looked up slowly from his mobile, that awful knowing smirk spreading across his face. Zira sighed. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. .

"Fine. You found me out," Zira sniffed, then-- because he could not let his husband think he'd won-- he quickly matched the demon's smarmy expression and added, "I'll endeavor to be more careful with my future snooping."

Crowley's smirk melted into a pleased grin and Zira inwardly preened at having pleased him with his response. "Now if you'd be so kind as to give your opinion?"

"I dunno if Soliel needs advice on this," Crowley drawled pointedly, one dark eyebrow arched in a reminder that the OP hadn't explicitly asked. Indeed, they might know quite a bit on the subject, Zira realised with another round of blushing. Fortunately Crowley took pity on him and saved him from his stewing. "For anyone else in that situation I'd recommend any kind of Pothos. You can get some really interesting looking ones, and they're flexible on how much light they'll tolerate. They can grow in the back of caves or in bright sunlight. They can handle being overwatered--Some grow up waterfalls-- but they're also pretty drought resistant. They will survive because it's their destiny. Plus you can grow more from cuttings so one plant will give you millions of others if you want them. Start a whole pothos jungle if you're into that sort of thing. "

"Thank you darling," Zira smiled.

"Shaddup," Crowley replied with a perfunctory snort. "Oh, and one more thing, not plant related... Anyone suffering from executive disfunction, regardless of the cause, might find this site helpful. It's easy to use-- Just a little clicky game-- but it might help someone get through their day."

Hello Crowley! I want you to know how much I ADORE you! *stares with bit cheesy grin and heart eyes*

Um...um...how 'bout some gardening advice?

Gardening advice...

Right, well. First off, NEVER talk to your plants the way you just addressed me. Individuals with overly soft hearts will baby plants and actually love them to death! *Mutters* No angels mentioned.

Best advice is to learn wot yer plants need and do yer best to provide the BARE MINIMUM care required to keep them alive. If they make it through the fallow season in yer area then you can give 'em a little treat of some plant food, (I give mine a sprinkle of epsom salts).

Put cactuses and succulents in terra cotta plants. Don't put ferns in terra cotta pots. Learn your companion plants and let them keep themselves company so you don't have to. Then let them sort it out!

I repeat! DO. NOT. BABY. PLANTS! If you're all *clearly mocking Zira's accent* Oooh Look at you, you absolute darling clamatis! You've done a beautiful job climbing this fense. Your blooms are simply stunning..." *returns to his own voice! Yeerch. Look, you're praisin' it for NOTHING! That's a plant's whole deal is to grow. That's like, the very basic thing a plant's gonna do. How'd you feel if some sappy wanker came over and started saying "Ohh Wonderful job processing oxygen into carbon dioxide, Soliel. You should be very proud of yourself. You're breathing so well!"

You'd think that twit wos completely bent and you'd be right to think so. Best case scenario would be you only lose yer plants' respect. Worst case scenario you convince them they're not expected to grow and flower or wotnot. They'll think it's a special thing they can withhold from you. Plants aren't smart. They'll wither up and die for lack of clear direction.

Sometimes they just do that anyway, so prepare yourself for inevitable plant loss. Conditions change from place to place and sometimes it's hard to know exactly wot their bloody problem is before it's too late. Some places just CAN'T accommodate certain plants because they don't get enough of the right kind of light, or the soil is just wrong, or the temperature isn't consistent enough.

If you get a plant from a place you don't fully trust (such as literally ANY supermarket) then isolate that little bastard from the other plants or they'll spread horrible pestilence to your crop. New plants are--ugh-- sEnSiTiVe so don't yell at them too hard for at least a week. After that, let'em know the score.

Anyway,

Good question, and best of luck in your future plant terrorism.

AC

[shanksbaby]

I honestly love the friendship (although Mihawk would vehemently deny it's a friendship) between Mihawk and Shanks! I'd love to see a headcanon where s/o and Mihawk are gardening together when Shanks shows up. Shanks decides to help them with it. He thinks it'll be fun and .....well you can decide the fate of the garden!

hi! i love this prompt so much AAAAA

Dracule Mihawk ( + Shanks )

-you and Mihawk both have a passion for gardening, so it is not uncommon to find yourself in the castle garden planting new flowers and taking care of the present ones.

-your garden is looked after to perfection.And you can't help but feel proud when you look at it, because it is a 'creature' of you and Mihawk's.

-that is until Shanks arrived.

-he had come to see his longtime friend, and as soon as he saw both of them intent on tending the small garden he insisted on helping you. Mihawk had expressly said no but Shanks' pouting face made you feel sorry for him and so you agreed.

-let's say you should have listened to Mihawk.

-your boyfriend's friend messed on mess: first he broke three pots that contained rare flowers, overwatered plants that were not supposed to be watered, destroyed an ancient tree.

-Mihawk wanted to kill him, and so did you, but to avoid further trouble you ordered him to leave the island. Red also said he was willing to repair the damage suffered but with a resounding 'no' you chased him away.

- he left the island complaining of your wickedness. And this time it is Mihawk who was keeping you so as not to kill that Emperor.

-now your garden has to be redone.

[koushisbabie]

nights w kenma

Feeling a bit domestic for Kenma so here’s a drabble that no one asked for

Pairing: Kenma x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: Sexual nature SUGGESTED but there’s literally no nsfw stuff

(gif is not mine)

Soft rain falls on the windowpane, a gentle accompaniment to the stereo playing in the background. Whatever it is that’s playing is catchy and while I water the various indoor plants littering the room, I cannot help but murmur in tune with the song.

Tonight, is not unlike most nights. While study is important, it is also important to take frequent breaks to do what makes you happy – that’s what my friends had told me. Kenma had agreed somewhat nonchalantly to the statement, knowing full well that I would decide to do whatever I wanted regardless of what our friends would advise us, anyway. I chuckle at the memory, almost overwatering a particularly small cactus. Muttering an apology to the little plant I put away the plastic watering can and call for our most recent addition to the family, a tiny white kitten.

‘There you are!’ I kneel to her level, brushing my fingers in her soft fur and scratching underneath her chin as she butts her head into my hand. ‘Are you hungry?’

There is no response aside from very loud kitten purring.

‘Or should we play?’

A ribbon sits in a haphazard pile on the kotatsu, left from the night before. I dangle it in front of the kitten, vaguely away of the footsteps entering the room behind me.

‘Have you thought of a name yet?’

I turn to reply and am met with Kenma’s smile. ‘No, have you?’

‘Not a clue.’

‘I suppose you don’t know what you want for dinner either?’ I ask. ‘You barely remembered to eat lunch.’

‘I would have remembered if someone didn’t convince me to take an early afternoon nap with them,’ Kenma says pointedly. ‘Sorry for keeping you up last night.’

I avoid his eyes, recalling the previous night’s events. ‘It was worth staying up for.’

Laughter lit up his expression as a blush creeps over my skin. He kneels down next to me in grey sweatpants and a dark red hoodie, looking cozier than ever. ‘We should really give her a name soon.’ He says.

‘What about yuki?’ I ask. ‘Because she’s got white fur, like snow.’

Kenma gestures for the ribbon, I give it to him, our fingers brush against each other softly. His hands are warm and inviting and get those thoughts out of your head, YN.

‘Not a bad idea,’ he says. He dangles the ribbon for the kitten, watching with a tug at his lips. ‘What about Kumo?’

‘Cloud?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s cute, too,’ I say. ‘She is fluffy, like a cloud.’

‘I don’t think that’s how clouds work,’ Kenma laughs. ‘But you’re not wrong, she is fluffy.’

‘She jumps so damn high,’ I remark. ‘Be careful of her claws – kittens have actual razors attached to their paws.’

‘She got me while I was napping the other day,’ Kenma drags the ribbon back and forth over the grey carpet. ‘I have a scratch on my foot that’s like three inches long. It hurt like hell.’

‘Oh no, did you disinfect it?’

‘I just went back to sleep,’ Kenma replies with a shrug.

‘Of course, you did,’ I laugh.

He continues to drag the ribbon, alternating with lines and circles and yanking it into the air, just out of the kitten’s reach. She jumps and twists in vain attempts to capture her prey, a wild beast in the middle of our living room, completely unaware of Kenma and I watching her hunt. I look to Kenma and see his growing smile and the complete fondness for the kitten in his eyes. The warmth of the scene is enough to make my eyes water, and I realize that this is the kind of moment people write poetry about; a moment that I would very much like to snapshot and live in forever.

‘I love you.’

‘Huh?’

The words pull me out of my zone, and I’m staring at him with widened eyes.

Kenma turns his head a fraction to look at me, a tiny smile on his lips.

‘I said, I love you.’

‘It never fails to surprise me when you say that,’ I breathe.

Kenma frowns, jerking the ribbon over the kitten, watching it follow the bait across the floor. ‘I’ve been saying it for years,’ he replies. ‘Aren’t you going to say it back?’

‘You idiot,’ I laugh. ‘Of course! I love you, too.’

‘More than Kumo?’

‘Okay let’s not push it, tiger,’ I roll my eyes playfully. 'What do you want for dinner?’

Kenma shrugs, continuing to play with the kitten. She jumps up and clamps her tiny jaws around the ribbon, pulling it and his arm down. ‘Let’s order takeout.’

‘And play a game together?’

‘You really do love me,’ Kenma nudges my arm. His eyes sparkle an unusually bright gold, a warmth emanating from him that I didn’t notice before. He stands and holds out a hand to me, his other hand carrying the tiny kitten. ‘C’mon then, pretty girl. Our cat child needs feeding, too, help me?’

Yes, this is not unlike most nights, but I wouldn’t dream of living any other life than this.

masterlist

[thedevilsruby]

Drowning in a Frozen Heart (Spanche multi chapter fic)

Spark Rai is the new student at Viridian High. New school, new life right? He meets the mysterious Blanche Overwater, who's the loner at school. Can he melt their frozen heart or will he get the cold shoulder?

Chapter Six: Work

Blanche couldn't believe they were doing this. All to keep their grades up.

They opened the door to their apartment, walking inside. "Close the door after you, please..." They requested.

Spark nodded and closed the door behind him. He looked around. This was cozy, he liked it. "This is nice." He commented.

Blanche blushed. They didn't understand why but they were glad he liked it. "Thank you." They replied. "Go ahead and sit."

"Thanks." Spark sat on their blue loveseat, setting his school binder on their coffee table. Blanche set their school bag down and sat next to him. "So..." Spark tried to think of something to talk about, but found for once, he had a blank.

Blanche chewed their lip. They knew they shouldn't be doing this. They needed to avoid him, so they couldn't hurt him. But they needed this A and so did he.

"So, the assignment is we both need to write a poem, and then we give it to our partner to analyze." Blanche read the assignment form Willow handed out at class.

Spark couldn't help but laugh. "Oh man, I am no good with poetry."

"Well...that's ok, I am." Blanche smiled just a bit. "I'll help you."

Spark blushed, smiling. "Thanks...but wouldn't the defeat the purpose of the assignment? I mean I'm supposed to write, you analyze..."

"I'll just offer you some topics to write about, then you write whatever you can think of." Blanche offered.

"You won't judge if it's bad?" Spark asked. Blanche shook their head. "I would never." They promised.

"Well...okay, whatcha got in mind?" Spark asked.

"Well, you can write about nature, something you find fascinating, the last beautiful thing you saw..." Blanche shrugged. "Anything, really."

"What are you gonna write about?" Spark queried.

"That'll be for you to find out." Blanche smirked as they got their pencil and notebook out.

Spark pouted and nudged Blanche playfully. "No fun." He whined.

"Do your work." Blanche chuckled.

After a few minutes of both of them writing, Spark groaned. "I really don't know what I'm doing." He sighed. "Nothing I write I sounds good."

"Can I hear what you have so far?" Blanche asked. Spark smiled nervously then held the paper up to reveal he did a crudely drawn Tyranitar.

"That is not a poem." Blanche said, although that didn't stop a small chuckle from escaping their mouth.

"I know but I can't concentrate." Spark groaned. "No one's ever wanted to be my partner because of this..."

"Well...why don't we take a small break? I could get us some refreshments." Blanche offered.

"Really? I feel bad, I didn't exactly do anything." Spark frowned.

"We have a week before it's due. That's plenty of time." Blanche said, standing up and walking away to the kitchen.

Spark groaned. They must have thought he was an idiot. What was he thinking? Maybe he would ask Willow to assign them a better partner, and he'll do something else for extra credit. Blanche deserved better than him.

Shrugging, he decided to take his phone out and scroll on PokeBook. He started laughing at a video he saw.

"What's so funny?" Blanche asked, coming in with a tray of two glasses of ice water and a bowl of popcorn.

"This!" Spark laughed, holding the video of a Growlithe bumping into a tree as it chased a Greedent.

"Oh my Suicune, that poor Growlithe." Blanche said, shaking their head with a small smile.

"Don't worry, he'll walk it off," Spark laughed, "provided there aren't any trees!"

Blanche shook their head, setting the try on the table.

"Thank you!" Spark exclaimed, grabbing a handful of popcorn and gobbling it up.

Blanche was shocked to find themself smiling at Spark. He was...so cute when he was this relaxed.

When they should have been working, they spent the evening talking and laughing. Spark told them everything about his life. Blanche listened to every word, fascinated and wanting to know more.

They just wished they could be that open to him as well.

"Shoot, is it already almost 8:00?" Spark frowned looking at the clock. "I promised my mom I'd be home soon."

Blanche bit their lip at the word 'mom'. "You...better get home to her." Blanche said, looking to the floor. "We'll work on the poems tomorrow."

"I swear, tomorrow will be more productive." Spark promised, grabbing his bag. "Good night, Blanche and thank you for the hospitality."

"Good night, Spark." Blanche closed the door behind Spark. They really shouldn't have relaxed that much, now Spark would think he could get closer to them. what were they thinking?

And...he had his mom. Blanche had no one, besides Candela.

Sighing, they plopped onto the couch. "What am I going to do?" They murmured.

They only hoped things could get better from here.

[cowboybotanist]

aaa i wanna know about montague!! what are the Big Choices he makes? which companions does he get along with best? does he remember his life before being shot? (sorry 4 askin so many he just seems like a cool dude!!)

The biggest choice he made was splintering off from NCR: Montague was originally siding with NCR because he saw them as the “lesser evil” and met some good soldiers. After Benny spilled the beans about his plan he realized he could use it to secure freedom for the people of the Mojave. The Lonesome Road really solidified his desire to push both Legion and NCR out of the Mojave, and that’s when he really got serious about the Independent Vegas plan.

Most of the choices he makes are the ones that result in the least violence: If he can talk someone down he will, he even tried it with Benny at the Tops (despite hating his guts). The one big choice he made that goes against that part of him was his second visit to the Fort, he picked Boone up on the way and went in blasting.

He gets along really well with Arcade, they have a lot of the same views on Mojave politics and such. Despite the research he’s doing, Arcade isn’t the most experienced with plants, and I like to say that when he met Montague (who’s a botanist) he got a lecture on how he was overwatering his potted samples and “drowning the poor bastards”.

Montague gets along decently with Boone, bonding time is setting up shop on the mountains overlooking Cottonwood Cove and taking potshots at Legionaries, watching them scatter. Boone wouldn’t say it, but after “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” he started to notice that Montague was a lot like him, he just hid the way he felt with lots of smiles and jokes instead.

Veronica, Cass and Raul aren’t as close to him but they’re still friendly. Even while Montague was in some DLC shithole he was sifting through dresser drawers to find a nice dress to get Veronica. He likes to avoid confrontation but sometimes Cass gets on him about his (albeit rare) chem use. Sometimes Montague and Raul do a fake 10 pace gun duel in the hall of the Presidential Suite, Raul always outdraws him.

Most of the game he doesn’t remember his past life outside of vague feelings he gets at certain places or when certain things are mentioned (Jacobstown, Red Rock Canyon, the Enclave). Some time before the Battle of Hoover Dam, he wandered off to do DLC shit because he was getting curious and didn’t want to die not knowing all he could about himself. Long story short, he went west for a while after prying cryptic information from Ulysses, and found Navarro, then walked like a man possessed from there to Arroyo. His memories didn’t just magically come back, so it made everything awkward, but he found his father (the Chosen One had adopted him as a child). He stayed for a bit and kinda realized that his dad was trying to get him ready for a leadership position and he peaced out.

Basically he was raised to carry on caring for Arroyo after his father (that’s why botany and survival skills are still so ingrained in him after losing all the other shit he knew). It overwhelmed him and he made up an excuse that he wanted to study plants from other areas in order to leave. That’s when he became a courier and took jobs from NCR to take him as far away as possible. In the end it’s a bit funny because all the responsibility he wanted to avoid came around full circle in the Mojave.

Thank you for asking, I love oversharing about Monty!

Bonus fact: He only chose the name “Montague” after he figured out his deadname and decided it was shit, most of the game he was just “Courier” or “Six”. Picked it out of Romeo and Juliet (cool name, he didn’t much like anything else about the play though).

[succygirl]

I have two plants with an issue and one thats already died, I hope that's okay! Any advice you could offer would be greatly appreciated.

This coral cactus recently had surgery to cut away a bit of rot. It seemed to heal up nicely, but then the scab peeled away to reveal this! The other side of the plant is fine, but this section is juicy and hollow and slowly spreading. Is it possible to save him? He's quite special to me.

This is my Little Jewel plant, and I'm worried about that red spot, which has been growing slowly bigger over the course of a few weeks. What is it? Should I remove that leaf?

Lastly, this mimicry plant seemed fine a few days ago, but I checked on him today to find this :( I think he's dead for good, but I'd love to know what went wrong so I can avoid it in the next mimicry I get.

Thank you and I hope this isn't too much to handle! If so, don't worry about it <3 Again, any advice you have would be much appreciated <3

SuccyGirl:

If it were me i'd deffo re-cut that cactus. Hallow and spreading doesn't sound or look good! Make sure your knife or what have you is clean, throw some alcohol on it even to be sure, and if its multiple cuts make sure you clean it between each cut. Then i'd sprinkle some cinnamon on the wound to help it dry and callus over faster. You want to keep that cut as dry as possible.

For the leaf... i have no idea what it is. But if you're positive its getting larger i'd remove it just to be safe.

For your split rock its rotted from overwatering. Very easily done with these guys. First thing to fix is your soil. It should be at least 70-80% inorganic materials, like perlite, pumice, gravel, or lava rock, for example. Even going 100% no soil and all inorganic would be fine for these. Soil just holds moisture that will rot these really quick. Usually when you bring these home they're in terribly dense peat moss. First things first is to get all of that off the roots entirely, use water if you have to. If you use water let it sit out bare root to dry however. These guys also have very specific growth cycles and should only be watered during certain stages. The most simplified way of telling when to water is when the inner leaves are slightly squishy. If they're splitting they get zero water. If they have more than 1 pair of leaves is when they're splitting. I've owned one for a year now and have only watered it once because it finished a split and then started again soon after. While they're splitting they use up the water in their old leaves and if they get watered they get confused and put it back in their old leaves instead of their new ones, and then they never finish using up their old leaves. Honestly just never give these water unless their inner leaves are squishy, look at them all you like but  leave them dry. And if its more humid where you are? They'll use that, so make sure there's 0 soil in their mix if you're in a humid place so they can stay as dry as possible.

[bittysvalentines]

The Gardener

From: @airplanesandcookies​

To: @17piesinseptember​

Note: It was my pleasure to write a ficlet for @17piesinseptember​.  I really hope you enjoy!  Thank you for all that you do in the fandom.  

If Jack had just realized that he had a crush on Bittle a year ago, then maybe he could have avoided this entire awkward situation.

“Wow.” It’s all that Bittle can say.  And frankly, Bittle normally says a lot.  

Jack waved his hand over towards meticulous backyard garden that he had built, planted and maintained over the summer.

“I can explain.”

He couldn’t explain.

***

Jack couldn’t pinpoint the moment in which his feeling for Bitty bloomed.  Was it Bitty’s graduation?  His own graduation? Maybe, when Bits took that hip check his freshman year?  That didn’t seem quite right.  Hell, who knows?  Maybe it went all the way back to the first moment they met.  

Bitty has always had a way of sparking a lot of emotions in Jack, all at once.  It’s kind of overwhelming to be honest.  But probably one of them was a seed for love.

Either way, Jack kicked himself for being oblivious to the fact that he was clearly infatuated with Bittle for far longer than he realized.  

Obliviousness made it easy to reason away his utter delight when Bits announced that he had taken a job at Brown.  It’s nice to have a close friend move into the neighborhood.  

And when Bittle had trouble finding reasonable accommodations, then, it was easy to justify an earlier move into a bigger house in a quieter neighborhood.  Once he earned his C, he figured he was going to stay in RI for at least five years anyway, and it’s nice to have someplace to stretch out in and call home.

The house was more than big enough for him and a roommate.  It came with four bedrooms, a couple of bathrooms, an attached garage and a large backyard that was essentially a barren dust bowl with weeds and dead bushes.

“Oh wow!  Jack, look at all this space back here!” Bitty had exclaimed as soon as he walked out the side door that previous fall.   “You can build a deck for company and barbeques.  I am picturing the most perfect garden!  You could have fruit trees and vegetables.  There’s room for a couple of rain barrels and even some flowers.”  

“Big plans on my yard?  I didn’t figure you as a gardener.”

Bitty batted his eyes, “I am a man of many talents.  Though even I can admit, gardening is not one of them.  I have a black thumb.  But I always appreciate the fruits of labor.”

Jack could imagine that.  Bits using fresh herbs in his garden, canning tomatoes and making salsa for friends, sharing his love of cooking with anyone who walked into his kitchen.

He tucked the thought away in the back of his mind.

***

The thought popped back up again sometime the following March, when the ground was still half frozen and nothing was growing yet.  

Spare time was sparse, but he always found a few minutes to pop into the library, return the stack of Bittle’s books that sat by the front doorway past their return date, and pick up a few books for himself for the road.

The front display was a riot of colorful paper flowers with a sign, “It’s never too early to start thinking about your garden.”  Underneath, a selected assortment of gardening how-to books beckoned.  

Jack grabbed a copy of “Kitchen Gardening for Beginners”.  

The next week, he grabbed “The Backyard Gardener” and bought a few heirloom seed packets from the internet.

Jack never could do anything half-assed.

***

“Jack?  Why is there a pile of lumber in the backyard?” Bittle asked one morning, looking rumpled in Jack’s old Samwell t-shirt.  The shirt had gotten mixed up in Bittle’s laundry when he first moved in, but Jack didn’t mind him keeping it.  It looked better on him anyway.

“Thinking of building a few garden boxes.  It’ll give me something to do over the summer.  Got to do something with that yard, eh?”

Bitty smiled into his coffee mug.  “Just let me know how I can help.”

Bittle wasn’t kidding when he said he had a black thumb.  Only a few of the seedlings that Jack started in the cold start of spring had survived Bitty’s enthusiastic overwatering, but that wasn’t a bad thing, he joked.  “No, you were weeding out the strongest seedlings.”

Bitty still looked skeptical, but Jack was amused.  And he diligently planted before dawn to get them started in ground before hopping on the road for a playoff game.

***

Jack drove Bits to the airport late in May.  “I don’t want to go to Madison.”

Jack also didn’t want Bits to go to Madison, but he couldn’t voice it as clearly.  

“You’re doing a good thing.  Your moomaw needs you.”

“She’s the only reason I’m going.”  Bitty pouted as he sunk down into his carseat.  “Broke her arm in Zumba.  How in the world did she manage that?”

Jack shrugged, “I would have bet money that the jam feud came to blows.”

“That only happened once, and it was when someone outside the family insulted both the Phelps and Bittles.”  

“I’m going to miss you, bud.”  Jack mumbled to his steering wheel just as Bitty jumped out.

“Me too, Jack.”

***

Shitty had always said that Jack needed a hobby.  

Gardening is a great hobby.  And carpentry.  And landscaping.  

He had the time on his hands.

And he missed Bittle fiercely.  

***

8 weeks without Bitty dancing in the kitchen, laying on his sofa, chirping him while they inhabited each other’s space went by as slow as Jack imagined, but it went by.

“Wow.” Bittle said again and Jack could feel his pulse quicken as he rushed to explain.

“I had some time on my hands.  Dad was excited to help build the deck, so that was a fun project.  Mom had some ideas about flowers.  And you said how you liked cooking with fresh herbs and veggies.  So I made sure to grow some stuff that I knew you would like.  No more having to buy cherry tomatoes, huh.”

Jack knew he was rambling and forced himself to breathe.  

“It’s just like I imagined it.  Jack.  Wow.”  And suddenly Bitty’s face crumpled and he rushed to turn away, his voice false and bright.

“Well, I guess I’ll just go whip up something from this garden.  How about a salad?”

Jack caught his arm before Bitty could run into the house.  “You don’t like it?”

Bitty huffed a laugh and wiped at his eyes, “Jack, I love it.  Whoever snatches you up is going to love it.  You made a house for a family.  It’s perfect.”

Jack knew that he was oblivious most of the time.  He’s relieved to know that he isn’t the only one.  It makes it easy to take the first step.

“Bud.  I made this for you.”

Bitty hiccuped a bit and looked back over at the yard, wide eyed and wild. “No.”

Jack started to smile, “Yes.  I missed you so much.  And everytime I thought about it, I came out here and puttered around.  This is for you.”

Bitty walked to the middle of the yard and slowly took in the backyard all over again, from the pair of apples trees in the far corner, the raised square foot garden bed of vegetables, the barrels for potatoes, the trellises for beans and vines, the flower beds filled with roses and lavender, the herb window boxes, and rain barrels.  There were frames for beehives set up in the far back.  Jack had even included tables and chairs for sitting on the deck with the beams raised for a pergola.  

Bitty outstretched his hand and Jack rushed to take it.  “This is for me.” he stated.

“Yes.”

“Good.” And Bitty pulled Jack in and kissed him gently on the lips.  

When Jack gently pulled away, he rested his forehead against Bitty’s.  “Good.  Also, do you have recipes for tomatoes?  I had no idea four plants could produce that much fruit.”

[katlyn1948]

An Unexpected Journey: Part 10

Now before you read, I just want all of you to know that I appreciate your likes and reblogs of this series! I love you guys! And also, not to be the bearer of bad news, but we only have 3 more parts before I finish it! Anyway, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

*************

Chapter 10: The Liege Lords of the Stormlands

Arya was the first to enter the Round Hall of Storm’s End. The liege lords were all neatly seated at a long table facing the dais that a throne was perched upon. Beside the throne was a smaller throne like chair that Arya gladly took her place on. The looks from several of the liege lords were a mixture of confusion or disbelief. How could anyone, even the Night King Slayer, be so bold to take their place beside the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands? Yet, not one of the liege lords questioned her. They were either too afraid for too unaware to speak up.

Gendry entered shortly after Arya. The once playful smile that was on his face was now one of concentration and dread. He truly hated these weekly meetings with the high lords. They were necessary, he will admit, but that did not mean that he truly despised hearing the complaints that each lord had from the week prior.

This week would be no different. In fact, it would probably be worse, considering they were talking about the rents and taxes that were due this quarter. Since the destruction of King’s Landing, taxes around the seven kingdoms had to be raised to help repair some of the damages. The people of the Stormlands were struggling to even pay half of what was due. Gendry had been a lenient these past months and a few of the high lords were beginning to take notice.

“Welcome Lords. We have some things to discuss about this month’s recent rents. As you all know, I took a week to travel around the Stormlands to see what is happening with our people. It is not looking good. There have been more rains than normal this year, rendering a lot of the crops overwatered and useless. The people are struggling while we sit here in our castles not caring. I can no longer do that.” Gendry was assertive and this took Arya by surprise. She had no doubt that Gendry would succeed as Lord Paramount, but she had never heard him take charge like the way he just did. It made her proud; to see him up on the dais showing his house words with pride: Ours is The Fury.

“And do you suppose we fix this situation?” A young man had spoken. He couldn’t have been more than 20 name days. He had pale blonde hair and dark blue eyes that could appear purple in the slightest change of lighting.

“Thank you for asking, Lord Dayne. Well, I supposed that we, as high lords, can make sure that we cut the cost of some of the rents to our people.” There were a few grumbles that came from some of the lords. Arya could see that Gendry was beginning to struggle, so she quickly took charge.

Rising from her seat, she made her way to stand in front of the high lords table.

“My Lords, perhaps we can see which parts of the Stormlands that need the most help. From what I’ve gathered from my time in King’s Landing, the Island of Tarth is still prospering.”

“Aye, it is. There is no shortage of food and the people are prospering.” Lord Tarth announced. There was no denying that he was Ser Brienne’s father. Although significantly shorter than his daughter, Lord Tarth and Ser Brienne looked much the same. Their hair was the same coloring and their features were strikingly similar.

“I purpose we have the prospering houses pay slightly higher taxes, giving the poorer people of the Stormlands the chance to recover as well as lowering the cost of some of the rents.” She suggested.

Gendry turned to Ser Davos, who was seated at the table with the other high lords.

“Will this work?”

Ser Davos shrugged, “I suppose it could. I would have to run some of the numbers. But it could work.”

A throat cleared and all heads turned to Lord Swann, “I do not mean to be brash, but Lady Arya, you have been here for no more than a day. How do you know what is good for the Stormlands? Aren’t you a northerner yourself? How could a northerner presume to know anything on how the south works?”

His words were like venom. He was trying to get a ruse out of Arya; to see how she would react to his harsh words.

Arya took a steady sigh, “Lord Swann, is it? I may be of the north, however, I was a Lord’s daughter. I remember my father facing a similar situation when I was younger and this was his solution. It had worked. As for knowing how the south works, well it really isn’t that different from anywhere else in the world. And believe me when I say, I would know.”

Her voice was calm. She did not raise her voice or even try to be curt with the man; she had simply stated facts and that seemed to irritate the man even more.

“Who do you think you are, parading around here giving orders like you are the Lady of Storm’s End? You are no more than a traveling wench who forgets her place!” His face turned red with anger.

Gendry stepped towards the old lord looked him square in the face.

“I suggest you apologize to your future lady! You do not wish to make an enemy of her, Lord Swann. For any enemies of hers are enemies of mine.” Gendry said in a low voice. Arya could see his fist clench and his jaw tighten. He was trying his hardest not to knock this ignorant lord on his arse.

“Future lady!? You expect her to help you rule the Stormlands!? We are truly doomed.” Lord Swann huffed. He rose from his chair and exited the Round Hall.

“I want every remaining lord to listen!” Gendry was now furious. “If any one of have a problem with Arya Stark becoming my wife, then I suggest you keep it to yourself. For any loose lipped lord will have his titles stripped and his lands dispersed.”

With that Gendry stormed out of the Round Hall. The remaining lords began to whisper before they realized that Arya was still in the room. The whispers hushed and the lords began to disperse, heading to do whatever lords did.

Arya walked up to Ser Davos, who was conversing with Edric Dayne. She had heard of Lord Dayne before he had been a lord. If she recalled correctly, he was the young Squire to Beric Dondarrion before he joined the Brotherhood Without Banners. It seems he had made a name for himself in the years since.

“Ser Davos, if I could interrupt.” She cautiously asked.

“Of course, my dear.” He turned to Lord Dayne, “Please excuse me, Ned.”

“It is no bother, Ser Davos. And it will be a pleasure for you to be our new Lady Paramount, Lady Arya.” Lord Dayne bowed and turned to talk to another nearby lord.

“How can I be of assist, Lady Arya?” Ser Davos asked.

“Are all liege lord meetings that eventful?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes, it can be worse. The boy has done good these last five years, but he still is learning.” He admitted.

“How so?” She asked.

“Well, he’s gotten better at reading, and that’s with me teachin’ him. He managed to somehow use a fork properly and the people love him.”

“But…?”

Ser Davos sighed, “But, there are some Lords who think someone can do better.”

“Lord Swann.” Arya stated.

“Aye, that fat pig and his son are trying to take it from him. I have managed to keep most of the lords at bay, but the Swanns are an old and powerful house with support. I’ll keep my eye on them, if I were you.”

Arya nodded, “Do not worry about that, Ser Davos. I always keep my enemies close.”

“Oh, I also suppose a congratulations are in order. Betrothed? Finally, I thought he would never marry again. And look at ya! You are already playing the part. Never thought I’d see Arya Stark in a dress.” He teased.

“Don’t get used to it. As soon as my things arrive, I will be in the same old trousers you’ve seen me in before. Dresses are torture devices made to hinder women’s abilities to move. I truly cannot wait to take it off.” She answered him truthfully.

Ser Davos let out a laugh, “Still the same, you are. And your things arrived early this morning. Sent my men out to your boat as soon as the morning bells rang.”

Arya sighed in relief. She would finally be able to rid herself of this dress and be comfortable.

“Thank you, Ser Davos. I will change and look for Gendry.” She said as she turned on her heel to leave the Round Hall.

Ser Davos quickly said to the young lass, “He’ll be in the-“

“I know where he’ll be.” And with that she left the Round Hall and the remaining lords to their devices.

*****

Gendry had made his way to the forge. It was the only place he could truly think like his old self. The feel of metal beneath his hands was a warm familiar feeling that he could savor forever. The other smiths knew that when Lord Baratheon enters the forge, that they need to scurry like mice and avoid him at all cost.

He was hammering a piece of steel into a perfectly shaped sword. With every swing his anger would dwindle; calming the bull within. Nearly every week he would make some type of new weapon fashioned from his frustrations. Every time he would meet with the liege lords it would always end up with Gendry in forge until the wee hours of the night. He wouldn’t sleep, eat, or interact with anyone. Tonight would be no different; except it was. He now had a woman waiting for him in his chambers. His betrothed. The very same woman that Lord Swann had disrespected.

Gendry’s anger bubble all over again and he took another swing and the searing hot steel. The sound of metal against metal did little to quench his angry, but the small shadow that had appeared in the arch way of the forge had.

“How did you find me?” He asked her.

Arya arched her brow and walked to stand beside him.

“Because you’re still the same. I know you, Gendry. That means I know where you would go to blow off steam.”

He looked at her and gave her a small smile. He noticed that she was no longer in the dress from this morning, but rather her familiar tunic and breeches.

“I see your things have finally arrived. Couldn’t wait to get out of that dress, could you?”

Arya chuckled and gave him a small peck on the lips. “You know me, too.”

Gendry smiled and began hammering the anvil once more.

“Once you’re finished, come find me before supper. There are things we have to discuss.”

Gendry was now the one that lifted his brow. “Should I be worried?”

All Arya did was smile and she turned out of the forge, walking towards the courtyard.

Gendry shook his head and returned to his work. He didn’t know how she did it, but she could tame the wild bull within him with just one look.

It was strange that even after all this time apart, they still managed to find a way back to one another. Sure, there were things that were different, but most everything that was there remained the same. His feeling sure didn’t falter, not even after five years and it seemed like Arya was becoming her old self once more.

It reminded him of their earlier days on the king’s road. He would tease her for being a girl and she would pout saying that she wasn’t a lady. It was nothing but light hearted fun back then and it was beginning to feel like that again.

Gendry clanged the steel for what was hours. He hadn’t realized the time until the bells rang and it was near supper time. He cleaned up his area and headed to his solar. He was covered in soot and needed to get cleaned before he took his evening meal. There was no celebration tonight and he didn’t feel up to dining with his liege lords. All he wanted was a simple family meal with the two women he loved most in this world.

He entered his solar and dumped his belongings onto the table by the fireplace. A tub of clean water had been drawn for him and he quickly soaked his aching bones. The water felt nice and he couldn’t wait to clean off the forge from his body.

When he was nothing more than a smiths apprentice in Flea Bottom, he was lucky if he got a bath once a week. Being the Lord of Storm’s End, he got a bath nearly everyday. It was a luxury he didn’t know he needed until it became common. Now, he wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t have his daily bath.

He had finally finished bathing and dressing when a soft knock came from his chamber door.

“Enter.” He stated as he finished fastening his belt to his waist.

A mop of brown curls came running towards him and little Lyra nearly tackled him to the floor. Fits of giggles escaped the young girls mouth and Gendry couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her as he picked her to place her on the bed.

“Arry saved me from Septa Joanna.”

“Did she now? I bet you were excited.”

The little lady nodded her head fiercely, sending her curls in all directions.

Gendry turned to look at Arya. She had a smile present on her face that he hadn’t seen before. It was different kind of smile from the ones she had given him. This smile showed something more than just happiness. It showed overwhelming love. Because that’s what it was, love. Arya was in love with this child and Gendry could tell.

“What’s going on?” He asked her.

Arya pulled her gaze from the child on the bed. “Well, she wanted to do something with the three of us, so I brought her here and informed the maids that we would be taking supper in your chambers tonight. I’ve had enough of Lords and Ladies for one day, and I had a feeling your would be too.”

He pulled her into his arms, “So this is what you wanted to discuss?”

“No, what I wanted to discuss can wait until after we dine with Lyra.” She said as she placed her arms around his neck. She reached up and gave him a long sweet kiss, completely unaware of the child staring at them from the bed.

“Does that mean my papa is your friend-boy?” Lyra suddenly asked.

Gendry and Arya pulled apart and gave her a questioning look.

“Lyra, what is a friend-boy? You had said it earlier today, but your Septa stole you before I could ask.” She asked the little lady.

“Septa Joanna said that Lady Rena couldn’t be my new mama because she already had a friend-boy, Lord Archie, and papa couldn’t be hers.” Lyra had said matter of factly.

Arya hadn’t meant to laugh, but the innocence the child was portraying was truly delightful. Lyra looked at Arya with confusion. What had she said that was so funny? Even her father was trying to hide a laugh.

“Why are you teasing me?” She asked the adults on the other side of the room. Her eyes began to fill with tears and her lips began to quiver.

“Oh, no we are not teasing you, Lyra.” Arya quickly rushed to the child and sat beside her on the bed.

“But you were laughing at me.” She accused.

“No, sweet girl. We were not laughing at you, just at the thing you said.” Gendry cut in.

Lyra looked even more confused.

“What your father is trying to say is that,” Arya paused, trying to find the right words to say. “Yes, your papa is my friend-boy.”

Lyra’s eyes lit up with excitement. She jumped onto Arya, tackling her into the bed, giving her a giant hug.

“Does this mean that you will be my mama?” Lyra asked as they sat up.

Arya was taken aback by the question. She never really thought of it, but she was going to be Lyra’s mother when she married Gendry. The thought scared her. She didn’t know what it meant to be a mother and wasn’t sure she would be any good at it. For so long she had to only think of herself and not have to worry about the well being of another human. Let alone a child. But the more she thought, the more she realized that parting from Lyra would be more painful than parting from Gendry. Perhaps she could be a mother after all.

“I suppose it does, if that’s okay with you?” She asked the little lady.

Lyra gave Arya a toothy smile and gave her another hug. “Don’t tell Lady Rena, but I think I want you to be my mama.”

Arya chuckled, “Your secret is safe with me.”

She gave a glance at Gendry and notice that his eyes were welling with tears. Great, I’ve made the stupid bull cry, she thought, not realizing that her own tears were streaming down her face.

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 3

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

Crowley spent the two days drinking, thinking, and wallowing, in that order. First, he got rip-roaring drunk, then kept going past that into a maudlin type of drunkenness. That led to the thinking, which had been much harder than normal, but also much more honest.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and he watched as all of London was bathed in warm light. He was scared. He could admit that to himself easily, especially when he was so drunk. What he was scared of was a little more complicated, and Crowley had been thinking on it for the better part of three hours. Because on the one hand, he was worried about Heaven and Hell and the safety of any hypothetical little ones. He really was. But on the other hand, he’d said something during their fight that he hadn’t realized he’d been worried about.

Demon spawn were A Thing, and they were generally terrible. Sometimes a demon decided to have some fun on the mortal level and demons weren’t known for being the most careful of beings. Best case scenario was something that was essentially a demon, but mortal. Worst case whatever came out was some sort of writhing mass of demonic energy and hatred. Would that happen to any of his offspring too? Or would the angelic influences cancel it out? But the Nephilim had been somewhat monstrous too, so was it a lost cause from both ends?

And that was where the thinking transitioned into wallowing. Because he was also drunk enough to admit that he really, really wanted to give in to Aziraphale’s badgering, hang the consequences. They’d at least have some time before having to face what they’d done. Who knew how long demon-angel hybrid babies took to form, or gestate or whatever (Crowley only knew as much as he did from his time working on a London pediatrics ward. He was supposed to have been sowing the seeds of evil in the new generation, but he ended up delivering and caring for more newborns than anything else). 

But the guilt would be too much. He couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it was doomed to be some sort of horror that never fit in. He’d love them, of course, whatever they were or would become but to imagine the difficulty of growing up in a world that would detest them... Well, at least Crowley had been fully formed and matured when it had happened to him. 

He ran out of scotch on the balcony by noon of the first day. But he wasn’t done sulking so he moved back inside and on to the brandy. Brandy was the perfect spirit to drink while tormenting his plants, though there were only a few left in the flat. They were his favourite, and he kept them here to avoid the angel over-indulging and spoiling them. 

“Yooooou lot,” he slurred, brandishing his spray bottle in one hand and the brandy in the other. “You don’t argue with me! Y-y-you’re all jus’ plants!”

A hydrangea, who had long exceeded it’s expected lifespan by several years and was one of the most verdant plants in Crowley’s collection, leaned towards him sympathetically. Most of these plants had been with him for years and had grown a kind of fondness for their tyrannical, but caring master. Crowley spared the hydrangea a glance over, inspecting it for blemishes. He found none. 

“Yoooou’re not compli--complicated, you’re not good or-or-or-or evil. You’re jus’ plants!” The while lily near the door shuddered, knowing things were really bad if the demon was repeating himself. Crowley never liked to repeat himself. 

“If you wanna have b-b-babies you can jus’ drop seeds!” His voice cracked at the end so he wet his parched mouth with some more brandy. “I like sssseeds, such ma-marv-maver--nice little thingss.” Four letter words, good Lord he was sloshed. Dropping the spray bottle and picking up the watering can Crowley deftly overwatered a nearby ivy. Luckily the ivy knew better than to wilt. 

“Like little things, like babiesss, an’ kids. Not sooooo much t-teenagerss but they’ve got ssspirit!” All the plants were leaning in now. Some of them opened up a few extra blooms, offering comfort in the way only plants knew how. “Alwaysss thought I’d make a shit p-parent though, an’ look how Warlock turned out…”

“Could be different, though, raisin’ one and not t-trying to make it, you know, not the Antichrissst.” Indeed he hadn’t been so much raising Warlock as he had been coaching him. And if he and Aziraphale were to do it together properly this time who knows what could happen? “Still can’t though. Angel n’a demon, probably be smited for even trying. Smote? Sssmitten?”

He pondered that for a while, letting the last few glugs of water drip out of his watering can and onto the floor. It was a lost cause though because all he could think about was tiny angel babies with their soft, fluffy hair and little grabby hands. “D’you think they’d look like him? I hope they do.” Crowley was idly swaying back and forth, lost in his daydream. “Hope they have his nose an’ eyess at least, mine are terrible. But m’wings are nicer so…” 

“I don’t wanna be sscared,” he said quietly to his favourite rose bush. “I want to--I want to give Azirahale what he wants. I want what he wantsss, and if I gave in we could both have it but I’m ssscared!”

The argument last night had left Crowley unable to sleep, but he was getting tired now. Maybe he should use his last day and a half--he checked his fancy watch; day and a quarter--to sleep this off. Tossing the spray bottle somewhere towards the wall--it would be back in its place the next time he went to use it--and heading towards his bedroom, Crowley realized he hadn’t yet texted Aziraphale like he’d promised. No matter, his phone was on the bedside table anyway. He could let the angel know he’d be back tomorrow, and they could make up. Nevermind how that was going to happen, since they both still had opposing views on the matter.

The first time he had come to stay at the flat after he and Aziraphale had a tiff, the angel had blown up his phone with calls and texts. Crowley had done the same the first time Aziraphale locked himself away in his study and refused to come out. They had since come to an understanding and formed a system of brief check-ins and hard time limits to ease each other's anxiety. They stuck to the rules, and it seemed to be a good way of letting off some steam and ending arguments, as long as they talked about it afterward. 

This time, Crowley had been a little lax in his following of their rules. It had already been nearly an entire day of no-contact and Aziraphale had been sending worried messages for at least six hours. To his credit there were only a few voicemails, which Crowley would listen to later, and not the deluge there had been that first time. They were all standard fare, Aziraphale calling in the morning after Crowley left, then calling back around lunch. The angel was doing a good job of keeping the worry out of his voice, but Crowley could tell it was there. 

Immediately Crowley sent off a text assuring Aziraphale he was fine and had lost track of time, complete with heart emojis, then fell into bed. As drunk as he was it didn’t take very long for him to drift off, even though he forgot to change into anything comfortable or get under the covers. 

Crowley walked into their cottage in time for tea the next day carrying a selection of cake slices. He didn’t really have anything to apologize for, but coming back empty-handed felt wrong. Plus the cakes might distract from the hangover Crowley had. He’d meant to fix himself up before bed, but hadn’t and now his head ached too bad to focus on any demonic miracles.

“I’m home!” he called out into the foyer, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly out of the doorway. The house smelled like old books and tea, which was better than burning food. The second time Crowley had taken some time to himself Aziraphale had decided to take up baking to soothe his nerves. It hadn’t gone well. “I brought cake!”

Aziraphale came around from his study and stood in the doorway, hovering. “Welcome home dear. Did I hear you say cake?”

This was the routine when Crowley returned. Whether in the right or wrong he’d come back bearing treats and Aziraphale would flitter about like he didn’t know if he should stay or go. Eventually, they’d both sit down and talk about what happened, which had twice led to Crowley storming back out and more often led to lovely make-up sex. He wasn’t sure what to expect this time, given the thing they were arguing about. There wasn’t much to talk about, either Aziraphale dropped it, or he didn’t. Crowley didn’t want to think about what would happen if Aziraphale didn’t drop it.

“Yeah, picked some up on my way over from that little bakery where they mill their own flour. Figured it was pretentious enough that you’d like it,” Crowley teased, none too eager to get to the heart of their issues. What if he and Aziraphale couldn’t move past this? What if this was the thing that ended them, not their former sides, or the Apocolypse, or their opposing natures? Crowley wasn’t sure he could survive without the angel in his life, but he also wasn’t sure he could concede on this particular issue. He also wasn’t sure if he could stick to his guns for too much longer, given what he’d realized last night. 

“Oh hush you. Take it into the kitchen I’ll be there in just a tick.” Crowley nodded and went through, surreptitiously glancing around their home. Aziraphale was prone to fussing with the layout of things when he was left to his own devices, just like he had at the bookshop. There he’d been able to justify it as a tactic to confuse customers and discourage book purchases. In the cottage, however, it was obvious he did it from anxiety. Everything looked to be in order though, so Crowley continued on and set the cakes down on the table. With a snap of his fingers, the slices were laid out on plates and the kettle was boiling for tea. 

“Early Grey or Twinings?” he called over his shoulder towards where Aziraphale’s office was. He could hear the angel moving about back there and assumed he was cleaning up whatever he had been using to preoccupy himself with while Crowley was away. 

“Twinings please, dearest,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled. Must be messing with his book storage, Crowley thought, pouring each of them a cup with shakey hands. He really wished he’d spent less time drinking and sleeping yesterday, and more time actually thinking about what he was going to say to Aziraphale. All he’d figured out was that they had to worry about a lot more than just Heaven and Hell’s reaction and that if Aziraphale kept asking, he might not be strong enough to refuse. 

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, taking his own and perching on the edge of a dining chair. Of course, Aziraphale still heard him and walked quickly into the room looking more than a little flustered. With an excited wiggle he took a seat and began to fawn over the cakes. “Take whichever you want, I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure dear? That dark chocolate mouse cake looks right up your ally,” Aziraphale pointed out, digging into his strawberry shortcake. He was right, Crowley had bought that slice of cake specifically for himself. It would have been not too sweet and everything he liked in a desert, but the worry about what needed to be said had ruined his appetite. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Aziraphale glanced down to his slice, then set his silverware down regretfully. “I said go ahead angel, I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a little, his hands disappearing under the table. Crowley knew from experience they would find their way under his thighs, crushed tight against the chair’s wood in an effort to keep them from flitting all over. Another habit from Aziraphale’s time with Heaven, where any stimming had been harshly discouraged. “No, I think we have a lot to talk about. And I want to apologize. Again.”

Crowley remained silent, knowing that Aziraphale had probably prepared what he wanted to say. As usual he was correct. 

“I was wrong to keep asking you about… it when you told me not to. I was being selfish, and not thinking about how you felt and terribly rude. And then you came back after I was so horrible and you came back with cake!” Aziraphale’s voice was getting louder and more high pitched as he went. It was obvious he was getting upset with himself but Crowley knew that interrupting him right now would only make things worse. “I got excited, and then I was pushy and I hurt you, dearest. I’m so sorry. I-I know I can be a little, well, tone-deaf but you said I was making you upset so explicitly and I just ignored you! How could I do that to you? Oh Crowley I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Aziraphale had begun rocking back and forth a tiny amount, quick little movements that he probably didn’t even notice he was making. “You’re right, of course. It’s so very dangerous, and I wasn’t thinking about it when you obviously had. I want to make it up to you, Crowley, if I even can.”

It hadn’t been what Crowley was expecting, given how persistent Aziraphale could be, and it was honestly a little disappointing. He may have been secretly hoping that the angel would be able to convince him, or had maybe thought of something Crowley had missed that would give them the go-ahead. But this was OK too, this meant they wouldn’t have to fight anymore and he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about it and they could move on. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Apology accepted angel. I’m sorry I stormed out.” Crowley was always quick to forgive Aziraphale, it was like it was impossible for him to stay angry at the angel. Though the way Aziraphale’s disrespect of his boundaries still stung, Crowley didn’t want to hold a grudge and make things worse, so he wouldn’t. 

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale stopped rocking but kept his hands firmly under his legs. Usually, this was the point where they hugged and made up, but his angel was still sitting, slightly tense. “Was your time away helpful?”

Crowley shrugged noncommittally. Aziraphale didn’t ask what he did when he was he spent time away after a fight, and he was immediately suspicious. “Sure, checked on the plants, slept for a while. The usual.” He left out the drinking. Over the last 5 years or so Aziraphale had grown concerned with the amount Crowley drank, even if he was an immortal being incapable of experiencing withdrawal. He had cut back, but times like the other night were another story. 

“Good, good.” The silence was back, and heavier. “And I assume that, from this point on, you do not wish to discuss that issue again?” The tentative nature of Aziraphale’s vice made it hard to hear if he was disappointed, or just being himself. Crowley cleared his throat. 

“That's probably for the best yeah.” But oh he wanted, wanted, wanted. It was killing him to deny them this thing that any old human could have easily. They could have anything else in the world, with their powers, but not this. 

“Alright, you won’t hear me speak another word about it. If you ever want to--well I’ll follow you lead dearest.” And Now Aziraphale was leaning over, one of his hands taking Crowley’s and squeezing. It was extremely warm from being tucked under his legs, but the demon still felt cold. “Now, if you’d like, I think you should try that ca--”

They were interrupted by an insistent knock on the front door. It was very rare for them to have guests and even rarer that they should drop by unexpectedly. The only other time anyone arrived was for deliveries, and even those were few and far between. 

“Oh, I wonder who that could be!” Aziraphale seemed all too eager to have something else to focus on, and to be honest Crowley was as well. He rose from the table, cakes and tea forgotten, and bustled to the door. Crowley stayed in the kitchen, trying to collect the unspooled pieces of himself. It was over, they had Talked, and now they could move on and everything would be just fine! Crowley repeated that over and over in his head, trying to drown out the wanting; just fine. He was so focused on not wanting that he almost missed Aziraphale’s sharp “oh dear!”. Almost, but not quite.

“Everything alright angel?” He was on his feet and sauntering into the foyer. Sometimes a particularly brave canvasser for some local church or scam organization would show up and Crowley had to scare them off. Often Aziraphale was too polite to do so himself, especially if they didn’t take to his subtle hints. Only once had the angel gotten stern with someone, and that had been when they tried to good old ‘foot in the door’ technique. In that instance, Crowley had had to save the canvasser form Aziraphale. 

That wasn’t what he found when he waltzed through the doorway. Standing there was Gabriel and Beezelbub in all their Heavenly and Hellish glory. They wore the same expression, of annoyance mixed with a large dash of disgust. “Oh shit.”

[thedevilsruby]

Drowning in a Frozen Heart (Spanche multi chapter fic)

Spark Rai is the new student at Viridian High. New school, new life right? He meets the mysterious Blanche Overwater, who's the loner at school. Can he melt their frozen heart or will he get the cold shoulder?

Chapter Three: Avoid

"Haha, you should have seen the look on Cliff's face when I lifted up that dumbbell no problem!" Candela typed into the group chat on PokeBook. Blanche smiled the tiniest bit and typed back.

"I wish I had."

"Do either of you have notes for that test in Geography? I got distracted by this cute Pidgey in a tree outside the window. I named him Chuck." Spark typed.

Blanche couldn't help but chuckle and shake their head. These last few weeks, they and Spark had been growing close and comfortable. They liked him.

"I'll lend you my notes, Spark. Just please don't get distracted next time."

"Gotcha! Thanks Blanche!"

Blanche couldn't help but get Butterfree at the message. Something about him typing their name...

Looking at the clock on their wall, they sighed. They quickly typed into the group chat. "I need to shower and get some sleep. Good night, both of you."

"Good night!" Candela typed back.

"See you tomorrow!" Spark messaged.

Shutting their computer down, Blanche sighed and stretched. They headed to their bathroom and turned the water to warm as they stripped themself of their pajamas. They couldn't help but smile and laugh a little.

"Heh, Chuck...such a silly name."

"You're getting attached." Their mind hissed.

Blanche froze as they stepped under the water. What...?

"Remember last time things were this good? You can't get attached. Stay away from him."

This voice was right. The last time they were this happy, their parents...

"I have to keep Spark away." They whispered, tearing up a bit. So much for starting anew...

-

Spark happily hummed as he looked around the hall. He gasped happily upon seeing Blanche at their locker, grabbing a textbook.

"Hey you!" He called out, running to them.

Blanche gasped quietly, biting their lip and slamming their locker shut, they gripped their textbook and quickly ran the other way. They disappeared into the crowd just as Spark reached their locker.

Spark's heart sunk as he watched them run. What just happened? Weren't they starting to get along?

"Looks like your weird friend doesn't like you anymore." A voice taunted behind him.

Spark turned around to see Sierra smirking at him. Beside her was Cliff and Candela's former friend Arlo, a shorter boy with goggles and a red streak in his hair.

"They probably can't stand the sight of your face." Arlo chuckled. "That's what happens to newbies eventually."

Spark bit his lip. "I...I'm sure they're just going through stuff right now." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or them.

"Tch, nerd like that should be able to figure out their problems." Cliff scoffed. "Come on, dearest, Ar." Taking Sierra's hand, he walked off with the pair.

Spark glared at their backs, then looked to the direction Blanche went with a confused look.

What snapped him out of it was the five minute bell ringing, warning students to get to class lest they be late.

Luckily he was outside his math class. He just hoped Blanche would talk to him again soon. He already missed them.

-

So the Chuck thing is a thing that happened to me personally lmao. A bird would hang out in a tree outside our window and I named him Chuck. I loved Chuck and was sad when I had to move and never see him again.

Shoutout to @whatsupwithjinx for helping me write this chapter! Love ya!

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - quarantaquattro

The finale has started - and there are quite a few chapters of it. It’s been a long time coming, thanks to Elana for developing it all with me. Don’t hate me x

- chapter navigation -

x

As safe as she felt, and as much as Alexander had reassured her, Jade caught herself worrying as she sat next to Kane, wondering incessantly if he was safe, if despite his recent triumphs there were risks to his business meetings and export deals, her worries only growing when she saw Helders continuously picking up his phone, his face not more serious than it usually was, but she couldn't help her concern, ached to see Alexander once the night was over, to be in the comfort of his confidence and reassurance and offer as much as she could in return.

“Y'know 'e'll beh alreyht” Miles said, sipping on the colourful cocktail in his hand, raising his eyebrows at the obvious doubts that distressed her features. “'s not the first deal 'e's ever made, bella.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a sip of her own. “Well” she said. “I know he feels like he's invincible right now” she said.

“Doesn't 'e 'ave evreh reason teh?”

Jade licked her lips. “I suppose.” Before she could continue, letting her eyes wander past Kane's shoulder, her body froze, her every moment ceasing when her eyes locked with an icy, piercing gaze, a bitter smile spread across a face that paralleled no other in the hatred it evoked inside Jade and she rose to her feet as soon as she found it in herself to bring her body into motion again, Kane catching on and following her gaze before she had to inform him of the horror that had just entered.

“Oh, no need to rise for me.”

Jade swallowed, the mere tone of her voice making her want to squeeze her hand around the blonde's throat, the only thing stopping her the two henchmen flanking her.

“But I do appreciate it.”

“Adriana, 'ow dare ya show your face?” Kane asked, stretching his fingers. “Ya fook Al over like tha', become 'is enemy's little toy. Makin' sure his dick stays wet, yeah? And then ya show up 'ere?”

She raised her eyebrows, the look on her face remaining unimpressed, the conceded smile not shaken, making Jade want to wipe it right off, to kick her face repeatedly with her heel. “Last time I checked...” Adriana said slowly, letting her eyes wander around the club. “This was no-man's-land.”

“Per'aps” Miles cut in. “I joost didn't know they let in cheap skanks like yourself.”

“Mmm...” she said, nodding slowly. “I think we both know you were keeping Alexander's dick wet for a very long time” she said. “How jealous are you that he replaced you? And what he replaced you with? He really can't be on his own, can he?”

Jade flinched, felt her hands, her whole body ultimately aching to lay her hands on the woman in front of her, scratch out her eyes and make sure she would never dare say Alexander's name ever again. It was Helders that held her back this time.

“We'll all be better off once you realise how much power and influence I still have. How much more even. But that's not what I'm here for.”

It was Jade's second instinct now to leave, well-aware it would be counter-productive for all parties – first and foremost for Alexander – if she caused Adriana any sort of physical harm. But she knew that Alex would also want to know the nature of her seeking them out specifically, that he would be furious if they didn't find out as much as they could despite everything. “Then why are you here, zoccola?” She asked, adjusting the strap of her tight, crimson red dress, her blood red lips hardly differing in shade, her stare as bright as the stone around her neck.

“Both of you should watch your mouths” Adriana said, an edge to her voice that Jade hadn't heard before, she could tell she was slowly getting to her. “You might think things are safe and fine now since Turner walked out of the meeting with Marco. I'll offer you one last deal before Alfonso will end this feud … this war with force.”

“No one's bloodeh scared of ya, sweet'eart” Kane said, shaking his head and turning back to take a sip from his drink. “Go back teh hell where ya belong.”

Jade shot Adriana back a sweet smile that surpassed hers in complacency by miles, then copied Kane's movements, although was aware that finding out about Adriana, declaring war on them for Alfonso, it would invade Alexander's self-assured attitude he'd carried with himself since the meeting with Mancini, but maybe it was what they wanted, Alex had made it out to be as if they did not have the power and were therefore desperate to gamble with threats, overestimating their own possibilities.

Yet she couldn't help the rising tension within her, worried now not only about Alexander and the deal he was making now, but also about him possibly underestimating Alfonso. The deal had been rather spontaneous, she didn't know many details, tried to gloss over her worry and instead engage in conversation with Miles, until he spoke in passing of the clients having close contacts in San Marino. She ultimately anticipated returning to Alexander now, making sure that things were okay, relieved when Helders gave a signal for them, for positive or negative purpose, it was something other than trying to busy herself when she really wanted to help and improve the situation for the business and most importantly, Alexander, at least she felt like there was some sort of purpose as they drove back to the headquarters, although worrying slightly when Miles asked if he could be dropped off, and Helders gave a shrug, stating it was only Jade he had to bring to the headquarters anyway, leaving her with the task to tell him about Adriana.

She knew that above being thrown off in the security of his plans, he would be angry, angry that there was some sort of threat from the outside, that they'd gone to a club outside his territory, that Adriana and possibly everyone she worked for might have been close to her as well as Kane and she tried to justify things in her head, tried to portray them mildly, all the while looking out the window to escape the intensity of Helders' eyes resting on her.

She avoided his gaze as he opened the door for her, escorted her to the entrance and held the heavy door open for her, the echo of his steps ringing down the silent corridor as well as the clicks of her heels as they headed for Alexander's office. For a moment, she wondered if maybe he already knew, was relieved that he seemed to be okay if he was asking for her, but maybe Helders had already told him, it wouldn't have been the first time, but the firm tone in his voice when after a knock he called her inside and the look in his eyes when she entered and the door fell shut behind her suggested that he wasn't slightly angry or agitated with the danger that Adriana's appearance posed, but that something else had happened.

“Jade.”

There was nothing fond in his tone, he was stood in front of his desk, pushing himself forward before approaching her with slow steps, the look had her physically aching to touch him, to evoke some sort of reaction that would reassure her and not remind her of the only time he'd put his fingers around her neck as a serious threat. She swallowed hard. “Alexander.”

He was silent, stretching his jaw, his features tense, lips pressed together. His eyes were locked on hers exclusively, his poise never faltering, his gaze never wandering until she couldn't stand the silence. “Adriana just threatened us.”

There was no change in his expression, except for a slight twitch of his eye, his jaw locked. “They dun't 'ave the power for a threat that isn't empty” he said, discarding the warning in an instant, as nothing more than a slight annoyance, not important enough to even be an inconvenience. “It dun't matter.”

“Alexander, did you hear-...”

“Enough” he spat, the way his voice cut through the silence of the office a sharp contrast to the calm and collected tone she was used to even when he was angry. “Dun't yeh try teh distract meh wif nonsense like that.” He stepped closer to her. “Did yeh seriousleh fink I wouldn't find out?”

She'd parted her lips to respond before she'd heard him out, but his words threw her off, her heart beginning to pound in her chest at rapid speed. “Find out what? I just-...”

“This were yehr plan all along then, yeh?”

Only now that she was trying to adjust to his sudden anger, she could see the hurt in his eyes, a sense of pain that the anger undoubtedly stemmed from and she swallowed, once again resisted the urge to touch him, this time to soothe him rather than herself. She knew she was beyond soothing now, not if he was going to say the words she'd been afraid of since she'd set foot in the headquarters with her body tainted in bruises.

He was certain, almost momentarily consoled by the fact that her eyes rested on his so she could not see the way his hands were shaking, stretching his fingers to refrain from losing control, but there was no doubt now, not like the time she'd returned to him in tears, crying because of what he'd assumed were her mistakes when really it'd been everything they'd done to her as a result of her getting close to him. And as torn as he was, he'd truly lost his head in pursuing her, had allowed her to pursue him in a way he hadn't thought possible, he'd been warned, warned so many times and had sworn to himself to never make the same mistake and here he was, still doubting his rationality when it'd been what had kept him overwater for so long.

“Alexander” she whispered, another step forward and their faces almost touched, the way his hand shot up and wrapped around her neck as an automatic defense making her gasp as he momentarily trapped her breath before loosening his grip again. “What happened?”

“Yeh fookin' kno' wha' 'appened, Jade” he muttered through gritted teeth, nothing but darkness reflecting in his eyes. “The bloodeh deal fell through, people in San Marino are no longer on me side and I fink yeh kno' better than evrehbodeh why tha' is.”

“I-...” Her breath was once again restricted until her attempt to speak ceased and she waited for him to instead.

“Better than meh, dun't yeh, Jade? And dun't yeh dare try teh stall meh, teh lie teh meh. I dun't 'ave time for yehr fookin' games.”

“What do you mean they're no longer on your side?” She asked, got the words out before he silenced her with merely his gaze this time.

“Me patience is not endless. I kno' I've been soft on yeh but dun't yeh doubt me words...” His voice was shaking, he didn't believe his own words, but he knew he had to stick to them, or someone else would and there was no rational justification this time to prevent it. “If yeh 'ave aneh fookin' morals or value decenceh even in the slightest, if yeh kno' wha's good for yeh, yeh'll tell meh exactleh wha' possessed yeh teh tell Alfonso about me alliance in San Marino.”

She swallowed hard, her breath shaking. The words hung in the air, the words she'd been so afraid of and she caught her lip trembling, her own vision blurring with tears of fear, more so his than her own. “No” she whispered. “It's not what you think.”

A dark chuckle zapped her right back into reality, out of her thoughts and forcing her to deal with something that resembled a nightmare, yet was very much wake reality. “Never is, is it?” He asked. “Yeh're saying 's not true?” The amusement in his voice was laced with nothing but hurt and disappointment and she despised herself more so for igniting something inside him that she'd been trying to heal than she did for  the next words she uttered.

“It is true.”

He exhaled sharply, the way she could watch his chest rise and fall visible as he closed his eyes for a moment. Even though he'd known what to expect, the way she admitted it herself crushed all his doubts and defenses, all the protection he'd subconsciously created for her inside his mind, yet did not make it easier to not fall into old patterns and give in to the way her familiar scent made him feel, it only made it harder.

As much as she'd been dreading this moment, she was not unprepared for it. In her mind, she had over and over again gone through the situation, the background, the possibilities, had come to the conclusion that she'd made the only possible decision she herself would be able to live with, had luckily been taken out of the situation before being forced to make decisions that would have gotten increasingly harder, and she wondered if only she'd held out for a little longer than maybe she could have prevented her own actions, but she also wouldn't have given anything to stall them. It was the way she'd come to peace with her decision that allowed her to look back at him with a confidence she wouldn't have otherwise been able to muster, calm and collected in a way he could only compare to himself.

“Why?” He asked, the tone behind his voice almost desperate before he cleared his throat and composed himself. “Wha' fookin' possessed yeh teh do this?” It had not been more than twenty minutes that he'd been trying to wrap his head around the news, Alfonso knowing about his alliances in San Marino and having strategically turned them against him, knowledge that could have only come from one source, a source that knew full well what her betrayal would do to him because as naive as he was aware of, he'd trust her, had finally allowed himself to trust her and not dwell on everything Adriana had caused him to lose, had accepted that the past was no equivalent on cautionary tale for the future, that Jade was not Adriana, that she would not have gone through so much with him, reassured him, saved him, made him better only to do the exact same thing but maybe that's what she'd been waiting for, a deeper level of trust that would ensure he'd lost his original doubts. Her every word that came back to his mind now was tainted by the ugly knowledge of what she'd done, had lost all meaning and left him angry and frustrated at himself more than her, cursing himself for defending her, for standing up for her against his own sister, his parents, prospects of a sheltered future and all his plans crumbling because Jade was not going to be there to help him through something she'd done to him and he felt like a fool for ever thinking he could be safe with anybody, for ever thinking she loved him, that she was different.

But he didn't need help now. He needed nothing from her except for answers, his voice louder than he'd intended when he spoke again, his fingers once again squeezing her neck slightly when she didn't respond. “I fookin' asked yeh summat” he said, irritated by the self-assured look in her eyes. At least when he'd saved her from Alfonso she'd been desperate to win back his favour, now nothing suggested that she cared. “Did they threaten yeh? Did they offer yeh summat? Did they fookin' touch yeh?” The way she looked at him had his anger rising, furious that he despite it all wanted to reach out and hold her, tell her he trusted her and that there was no reason to be distressed, but he knew he couldn't, the fear of showing weakness now too prominent, the embarrassment sat too deep in his bones.

She swallowed. “Alexander” she whispered, the truth now everything she had to offer, but knew that with the way he saw her now, looked at her now, it was useless. “They threatened to kill you.”

His throat stretched over his adam's apple as he swallowed, took in the words her deep red lips formed, condemning the thoughts she evoked within him but he forced himself with all the strength he could muster to not allow her to fool him again, shaking his head slightly. He could not continue making the same mistake. “And I'm s'posed teh believe tha'?”

Her eyes widened. “Have I ever given you a reason not to?” She whispered.

“Yeh lied teh meh, Jade.” He remembered it only too well, the one time he'd made her cry in a way that did not involve pleasure, how he'd thought he would never want to see it again and would do anything he could to prevent it but here he was, instilling the very same fear within her he had then, resisting the temptation of soothing his frustration in taking the other hand the same way he had the very first time he'd bent her over the very desk behind him.

“I know” she said. “But I did it to protect you. I know the business should come first and that … it was weak, but I stand by my decision. I didn't tell you because I knew that you'd set something in motion, anything to secure your alliances that would have given away that I told you.”

“I'm not fookin' stupid, Jade.”

She shook her head, her gaze softening. “Of course not” she said, swallowing, pressing her lips together. “But I couldn't risk that with your life on the line.” She breathed out shakily, hesitantly lifting her hand cover his own around her neck in an attempt to not pull it away but squeeze it slightly. “Alexander, please...” she whispered, now pleading for something she knew was already lost. “Why would I want to hurt you?”

“'ow could yeh look meh in the eye?” He said, his jaw tense as he spoke, ached now to turn back time and wondered if he would have preferred to remain oblivious to go back to just that morning, admiring her just a moment before she'd woken up, her power and everything she stood for, the way she was so at peace with a dormant fire sleeping under the surface. Once again, his anger at himself prevailed. “Sleep in me bed? I fookin' saved yehr life, I fookin' … I gave yeh evrehfin'.”

“I was so afraid, Alexander, terrified that I couldn't warn you! I swear I just wanted to protect you.” There was nothing she could say now, could see in his eyes that it was different than last time, that he'd made up his mind. “What I told them … that I didn't tell you … I … I stand by that and I don't regret it. I did that because I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat, his poise momentarily faltering as he fought the urge to reciprocate her words. “Dun't yeh-...” He bit his lip, his eyes darkening. “Dun't yeh fookin' say tha' teh meh now.” He was afraid of losing control now in a way only she could cause, and he knew he needed a moment to make sense of it all, hated himself for being angry as well as worried about not only Miles encountering Adriana, but Jade as well, trying instead of focus on the evidence he needed to get through this, as much as he wanted to believe her, he knew she'd searched for action that night she'd gotten into that car, for excitement, undoubtedly would have gotten into one of Alfonso's and Mancini's cars instead had the opportunity presented itself, in a way, maybe she was not so different, would have used her intel on him against him just the same eventually. It was good he'd found her out sooner rather than later and as much as it hurt now, he knew it would have only gotten worse.

“Alexander...”

“No” he said, drawing his hand from her neck, yet silencing her once again with just a look of his eyes, their intensity making her shiver, making her desperate to reach out because she could only imagine the war raging in his mind, nothing compared to the altercation with Alfonso or any other rival. She'd once again made him feel betrayed, had for his own good played into his worst fear, sought now to desperately soothe him and convince him of the opposite, the truth that now would not get through to him. “Wha' else did yeh tell them?”

“N-Nothing” she whispered, his question instilling a shred of hope within her. “I swear on your life … and on my life, Alexander, you know everything now. It wasn't nice for me to keep it from you, to keep it from myself because I knew what it would cause, and I didn't want to hurt you, I just wanted to protect you.”

“Stop” he snapped. “Stop sayin' tha'.” He could sense himself losing control now, grateful for the interruption of his phone vibrating on his desk and stepping back to unlock the screen and glance at the message, his face expressionless when he looked back at Jade, lifted his hand slightly as he passed her only to clamp it into a fist again, his nails digging into his palm as he resisted the urge to touch her, kiss her before he left, the familiarity he loved so much fading violently.

She parted her lips to speak when he walked past her without a touch, a word, gasping, then pressing her lips together, her heart skipping a beat when he turned to look over his shoulder, his fingers fumbling to light himself a cigarette. “Yeh stay 'ere. This isn't over.”

She flinched when the door fell shut. She didn't try to follow him, knew that he had more work to do, knew that Helders was right outside. Slowly, she walked around the desk, trying to keep the noise of her heels to a minimum as she sat down in his chair, her stance slumping as she placed her arms on the rests to both her sides, closing her eyes.

Similarly to how she'd figured things out before, she tried desperately to think of a solution now, something to do that would leave him no choice but to believe her, but it was not going to be that easy. Last time, she'd had the benefit of the doubt, had been in so deep with him that he had blindly trusted her despite all odds and she was able to prove him that it'd been justified. Now that time acted entirely against her, weakened the trust that moment had once built up. The fear of her own fate was surpassed, overshadowed by the knowledge of how she'd made him feel, that she was no better than Adriana in his eyes.

While she'd earlier looked forward to sink into his arms at the end of the night, she now knew she was lucky if he'd ever even look at her again. As much as she knew that she was right, that she had made the right decision, everything within her understood why he felt betrayed, why he saw her in the light she hated to be seen in, why there was no chance even though the truth was on her side.

She sat motionless, time passing beyond her awareness until she suddenly heard a door slam in the distance, steps approaching and she tensed, rose to her feet, yet stayed behind the desk, reaching out and fumbling for her gun when it all fell silent again, distinct voices until the door was pushed open, hopeful to see Alexander, but instead, Helders stared right back at her, his face expressionless and he motioned for her to follow him. As fearful as she was, she knew she had no choice, her heart pounding as she obediently zipped up her bag, her heels clicking on the floor as she approached Helders, her eyes wide when he still refrained from speaking, instead closing the door behind her and leading her wordlessly down the corridor. In the distance, somewhere upstairs she could still hear loud steps, talking, hurried motion. “Where are we going?” She asked hopefully. Surely Alexander wouldn't act this quickly, wouldn't dismiss everything they'd had without another conversation, without proper questioning.

Helders remained unfazed, by the noises as well as her question, pushed open the door and led her outside, two more henchmen holding the doors of the car open in silence.

“Helders” she said, her voice rising slightly in volume and pitch, more demanding now. “Where are we going?”

“Turner's apartment.”

The obvious tone to his voice eased her momentarily, comforting to her somehow because she knew that he wasn't concerned with soothing her, he would've remained silent rather than lying and she swallowed, now hopeful Alexander was open to speak with her again, yet wondering if he'd told Helders on his way out already.

She sat in silence herself, knowing that even if they were taking her somewhere else, there was no fighting it without Alexander there personally, and once again, she preferred action to the wait she despised so much, yet could hardly contain herself even during the short wait of the car, fuelled as well as relieved as she followed Helders into the familiar building, her fingers fumbling absently with her stone on the way up in the lift.

She managed to stay composed when she really and truly stood in front of the apartment door, felt hopeful, like she still had a chance – until Helders opened the door for her and she was enveloped by darkness, a darkness and a stillness inside that suggested they were alone, telling herself for a moment that he probably just wanted her to wait, until she heard the door shut behind her and the lights flickered to switch on, Helders stood behind her in the room as she turned around, the look on his face not entirely expressionless this time, it expressed something she'd never seen.

“When is he coming back?” She asked, parted her lips again, yet shut them quickly when she saw the look he gave her.

“Jade” Helders said, pressing his lips together as if to prepare himself, hesitation strange in his demeanor. “They took 'im.”

For a moment, Jade thought she hadn't heard him right, had just heard the worst case scenario that her head had prepared, but the look on his face matched, he was calm and collected as always, but there was something else. “W-What?”

“On the way to 'is meetin'. One of our men didn't make it, two are recoverin'. Turner's gone.”

She breathed shakily, her heart thudding almost violently as if trying to burst out of her chest. Her fingers clenched to fists, her thoughts running wild, she could only think of one thing. “And why the fuck are you here?! You have to do something to get him out of there, Alfonso can't just do that!”

She was expecting him to have the answer, to shrug the way Alexander did in these situations, when he was already a million steps ahead, but his response was as much of a hit as the initial doom. “I'm under orders to keep you here and to keep you safe.”

As striking as it was that she realised now he probably didn't know what she'd done and how she had made Alexander feel, it infuriated her more that he stood here despite. “He doesn't trust me anymore” she stated. “It doesn't matter if I'm safe.”

Helders stood motionless. “I'm under orders.”

“If someone kidnaps your boss, surely getting him back is your first priority!”

He shook his head, had her cursing him for being so calm. “The boss has protocol for this.”

“You don't understand” she warned, her voice not reaching beyond a whisper, trembling. “There was a threat. They're going to kill him.”

When another moment passed without response, she fumbled for her weapon in desperation, undid the safety and held it pointing at Helders in front of her. Nothing mattered now, she just knew that something had to happen – no matter what it took. “Let me out of here if you won't do anything. I'll go myself.”

“Put the weapon down.”

She swallowed, her hand shaking, her lips trembling. “I won't hesitate.”

A deep sigh, one step and a simple maneuver and Helders held her gun in his hand, evoking a sense of defiance in her that had her pushing against him with her hands on his chest, all her force, yet she hardly swayed him, standing steadily on his feet and refusing to let her pass to reach the door. “I dun't want teh 'urt yeh, Jade.”

“I fucking dare you.”

Her attempts remained fruitless, none of her hits impacting him in the slightest, ones that posed more fatality he knew to counter until he held on firmly to both her wrists, turning her arms to her back as she trashed around despite her exhaustion, his knee lifting to meet her heel and protect himself when she pulled up her leg, her struggle finally ceasing, her breathing heavy.

“Jade.” He sighed, holding on to her for a few moments more. “There's nothin' teh be done now.”

[mclcontracting]

How Does Landscaper Help to Avoid the Event of Mistakes?

Landscaping is not just a matter of planting things. It is a science and art. In order to get the most out of your landscaping projects, you need to hire the right landscaper. A professional Landscaper Christchurch knows how to deal with problems and solve them appropriately.

A Vast Experience And Knowledge

A professional landscape designer has enough experience and knowledge of knowing how to deal with problems and solve them appropriately.

This is because he/she has been working in the field for several years and has had an opportunity to observe different types of soil types, plants, trees, etc., which makes him/her better equipped to deal with any issue that may arise during landscaping projects.

Create A Beautiful And Functional Landscape Design

Landscape designers can help you create a beautiful and functional landscape design. They will help you choose plants and materials that are best suited for your climate and soil type. The designer will also provide advice on irrigation, drainage, and other important aspects of landscaping.

The landscape designer will prepare a written document that includes: -A site plan and design drawings showing the proposed layout of your landscape. -A list of plants, trees, shrubs, and other materials to be used in your design.

They Help You Choose Plants And Materials

A qualified landscaper Christchurch will help you choose plants and materials that are best suited for your climate and soil type. They can also provide advice on irrigation, drainage, and other important aspects of landscape design.

The landscaper will take into consideration the following factors when creating a plan:

What kind of weather do you have? Rainy days? Dry spells?

How much time do you have to work on it every day or week? If it's going to be done over several months (or years), then how often we should expect changes during the construction phase (i.e., planting season)?

They Provide Advice On Important Aspects Of Landscape Design

Irrigation is the process of applying water to soil to keep it moist and promote plant growth. It's usually done with a sprinkler, but sometimes you can use drip irrigation or even a hose.

Drainage is the removal of excess water from your landscape so that it stays healthy and doesn't drown your plants or overwater them. Drainage comes in many forms: soakaways, swales, basins—whatever works best for your particular situation! If you have clay soil (like most people do), you might need a trench or ditch; if you have sandy soil as I do, I recommend using trenches because they work well even when there aren't large amounts of rainfall each year (which tends not be true).

Landscape design is an important part of keeping things running smoothly at home because it helps avoid mistakes before they happen through proper planning beforehand!

Conclusion

A professional landscaper can help you design a beautiful and functional landscape that not only looks good but also has the ability to withstand weather conditions. They will be able to provide you with advice on how much water your plants need, which can save you money in the long run.

Source: https://mclcontracting.wordpress.com/2022/09/22/how-does-landscaper-help-to-avoid-the-event-of-mistakes/

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Grocery Store

Todd the demon is a he, now, if only because Granny Ethel insists upon using copious ‘Dear boy, keep trying’ and ‘Atta boy!’ critiques to varying degrees depending on how well his needlework, crochet, and knitting attempts progress.

Gender isn’t a concept the demon concerned himself with before. If Todd had been, say, a girl named Tonya, he supposes he’d be a she instead. If Todd had been gender-neutral and properly communicated with his grandmother, he supposes she would call him they or child, appropriately. Granny Ethel isn’t one to discriminate. Even when she properly wears her glasses and sees his obviously un-Todd-like appearance, only shaking her head and smiling with a good-natured “kids these days” on her lips. But he wouldn’t mind if Granny Ethel called him boy, girl, thing, or abomination, so long as she stayed happy.

Granny Ethel is a patient woman. Todd simply can’t understand why or how she’d become the black sheep of her family, especially after a full week of living with her hospitality. Through the constant baked goods and the modest but satisfying three-meals-a-day; the careful (oh-so-careful) dusting of trinkets and bookshelves with tiny cloths and feather dusters not fit for large claws, which he insists upon doing while she looks on in worry before brewing more coffee; the midday television re-run breaks spent sealing cash donations into envelopes and discussing human rights issues instead of watching old shows, he simply can’t think of her as anything but a paragon of her kind.

It’s a problem with them, he concludes. Not her.

It isn’t a decision he makes lightly.

Spending such a brief time with her, he’s already learned so much more about humans than he ever would have cared to know, beyond perceiving them as vessels or a means to an end. There is much suffering in the world—sometimes even more than that in Hell—but there is also kindness.

He’s known that, but he witnesses it first hand during their first trip outside of Granny Ethel’s home.

“Come, now, Todd, we have much shopping to do. I’m afraid my pantry isn’t stocked appropriately for the upcoming food donation drive and I can’t just skip it this month.”

Todd remembers addressing an envelope to the local food bank—most people would stop there, figuring their good deed was done.

“I also have to stock up on this week’s groceries. Feel free to buy whatever you want, dear. I can cook anything, you know! At least, I try. I suppose you’d like some snacks, too. But I am so glad you’re here; think of all the bags we can carry between the two of us!”

There is no car in Granny Ethel’s driveway, or a garage to store it. He wonders how they’re going to make it to the grocery store as he waits for her to lock the door behind them, as she hobbles down the two small concrete steps with her cane in hand.

It isn’t until she’s halfway down the sidewalk that he realizes they’re walking. In public.

An old crone in black and a demon at her side, wearing a handmade shawl so lovingly stitched with various, terrifying occult symbols.

He isn’t the only one who sees a problem with this—the neighbor’s dog, a small, bug-eyed thing, yaps indignantly at them from the front lawn as it bounces around the dewy grass at its owner’s feet, soon erupting in warning yowls and howls, before falling silent mid-yip when Todd locks eyes with it. The neighbor—Maurice, if he remembers Granny Ethel’s gossip correctly—stands frozen, watering can dangling limp from his hand as he overwaters the begonias at his feet, mouth hanging open in undignified disbelief.

“Good morning, Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”

Maurice simply stares, dumb with shock.

Halfway down the block, another neighbor’s car brakes with a squeal before they make it out of the driveway and they stick their head out of the window to gape.

Shutters crack open. Curtains are shoved aside.

Before Todd knows it, they are the cul-de-sac’s center of attention.

Granny Ethel doesn’t pay it any mind and continues obliviously on, waving to each face in turn as those faces pale, yet hers remains rosy.

“My, such a busy day today. I haven’t seen everyone out like this since the Fourth of July block party. Oh, if you’re still here during summer, Todd, we should definitely take part. Maybe we should start knitting an American flag for the occasion. What do you think?”

He can only nod.

They make it to the grocery store without incident—aside from the broken fire hydrant caused by a distracted driver and the one, single person who ran away screaming, and the handful that crossed themselves, and the one person bold enough to snap a picture with their phone before Todd grabbed it from their hands and threw it while Granny Ethel wasn’t looking, too distracted with how well the city’s roadside flowers were blooming—and Todd, ever the gentledemon, takes a small shopping cart from its line and trails behind Granny Ethel as she consults the list taken from her purse.

As expected, those within the store stop and stare. Even the calming elevator music jolts to a pause.

A young man in an employee vest, who looks high, shoots Todd the demon-horn hand sign and smiles before swaggering away to the frozen food aisle, and the manager meekly approaches them, skirting around a fresh fruit display.

“Ma’am, is there—is there something I can—do you need help?” he asks, sweating from his receding hairline to his neck as he tugs at his collar and straightens his frumpy tie.

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked. I didn’t see any sales circulars by the door—what kind of specials are on right now? Particularly on things like pizzas and cereals and whatever else young men like to eat.” Granny Ethel leans in close to the man, close enough to loudly whisper, “See, my grandson here is a quiet, shy boy despite his appearance, and I don’t think he’d ask me himself, but I bet he’d love to get some junk food to snack on between meals.”

The manager’s eyes widen, blood-shot, as he looks to Todd, who only smiles—which comes off as terrifying, he’s certain, with all the sharp teeth and red eyes involved.

“S-SURE! Junk food. Right. Um—uh, w-well, I think there’s a BOGO—buy one get one free—deal on the frozen pizzas. Uh…most cereals are marked down right now…th-there’s a sale on potato chips…hot dogs…” His voice trails off, too burdened with trembles and fear as he continues to hold Todd’s gaze. “And—you know, I’m sure some other employee can help you, ma’am. I’m not one anymore as of this moment. I QUIT.” That said, he yanks the flimsy plastic nametag from his shirt and runs for the door, followed by half of the shoppers who abandon their carts and drop their baskets, scattering groceries everywhere.

Granny Ethel watches him go, then sighs. “He must have been overworked and stressed. I almost walked out on a job a long time ago for the same reasons, but I needed it. You be careful of corporate America, Todd.”

He takes her words to heart, and he fully agrees.

Shoppers that remain in the grocery mart avoid them at all costs as they meander through the frozen food section, the bread aisle, the junk food corner—and Granny Ethel pays them no mind, filling the cart to the brim with refills of groceries she needs back at home and treats she thinks Todd needs more of in his life. He supposes he does, if she says he does. Far be it from him to contradict her adolescent-savvy wisdom.

Even so, the single shopping cart is far too small for all of the spoils—halfway through the shopping list, he finds them in need of another. It isn’t an issue. Many are left scattered, abandoned, around almost every corner. By the end of the list, both carts are full to the brim, and Granny Ethel is simply beaming.

The checkout lines are deserted—they have their pick. Although only one station is manned by a clerk, and it greatly narrows their choice.

As Todd wheels the two shopping carts to the register, he recognizes the young employee from before, who once again shoots him the demon-horn hand symbol.

“Love your poncho, dude,” Sam (as his nametag reads) comments with a bit of a tired drawl, and there are dark shadows under his eyes as expected from an overworked youth on minimum wage, but he is otherwise energetic, quickly scanning each of the items set on the conveyor belt, and smiling at demon and old woman in turn. “Did the little lady here knit that for you?”

“Crocheted!” Granny Ethel corrects with a grin, preening like a proud parakeet. “It does suit him, doesn’t it? Of course, I would never make something that didn’t suit my dear grandson. He must always be well-dressed.”

“You seem like a really supportive gramma. That’s cool. When I was in my super hardcore death metal phase, mine just dragged me to church every Sunday.” A digital beep accompanies nearly every word as he skillfully rings up each grocery down the line.

“Oh, I would never do that. Mainly because I no longer belong to a church. And also because Todd seems so averse to discussing Bible passages, so I never force him.”

At this, Todd gives a wry smile. He places the final handful of groceries onto the conveyor belt and sidles around Granny to the other side of the checkout, bagging the groceries that have already been scanned. It seems the official bag boy has fled in fright.

“I can imagine. Never one for religion, myself. Oh, and you’re eligible for the senior citizen’s discount, so let me just…” Sam pauses a moment to key in a code on the register and it dings. “Aaand, there. Your total comes out to $204.56. Stocking up for the winter already? It’s only March.”

“Oh, dear, no. Half of this is for the food drive!” Granny Ethel chuckles good-naturedly as she leans her cane against the counter and digs through her small pocketbook and produces a checkbook, then dives back in to search for her favorite pen.

Sam turns to Todd while awaiting payment. “By the way, dude, that costume is killer. I’ve never seen anything so realistic, with the added bonus that you scared the boss away! Totally made my day. My week, even.”

Todd gives a nod, happy to be of service, even if it isn’t a costume. He can’t exactly say it aloud. Perhaps one day he’ll learn how to speak English coherently, but for now nonverbal cues work just fine.

Finally, Granny Ethel finds her pink, plastic jewel-encrusted ballpoint pen and makes out a check to DeVille-Mart, even going so far as to take one of the heavier paper bags for herself, never one to make Todd carry all of the groceries himself. “You have a wonderful day, young man. Thank you.”

“Y’all have a great day, too, Ma’am.” Sam offers a toothy smile, and it seems sincere enough as he sees them off with a lazy wave “Hope to be seeing you shop here again.”

Todd isn’t so sure they’ll ever return once upper management hears about this visit, but it’s nice to know they are accepted by at least one individual.

“Now, Todd, let’s get to the food bank. We have such a long day ahead of us. But there’s a reward at the end of it—I bought ingredients specifically for chocolate turtle brownies!”

If the visit to the food bank is in any way similar to this excursion—and it will be, he decides, as yet another gawking driver’s car slow-collides with the corner vending machine when they pass through the automatic doors—they have a long day ahead of them, indeed.