#sorry about the largest one..it was very rusty! it's been a while since I opened it...

[thegothicviking]

If you have seen "Deadpool & Wolverine"..you know what these are! 🥰

Very little baby knife... 🥰

Slightly bigger baby knife... 🥰

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 31)

The smell of buttered, barbecue corn on the cobs mixed with the scent of burning firewood makes Mila’s mouth water like the cookie monster catching sight of chocolate chip cookies, as she and Juri make their way down the dark street.

“Can you smell that?” She asks Juri. “Smells nice, right?”

Juri nods eagerly and the blue eyes glistens hungrily. 

She’s holding a bottle of vodka in her right hand and Juri’s hand in her left as they struts down the street towards the bonfire and the sound of chatting people. Juri’s dressed up in a knitted sweater, sent from mama in Russia for his second birthday. The shirt was way too big for a two year old, so Mila left it in a drawer until they had to leave, to escape when all hell broke loose. It’s maroon with white, traditional pattern over the chest. 

“Are you excited?” Mila asks as they pass Jessie’s house, and a sad feeling overwhelms her. Poor Jessie. She shifts her focus from the now empty house to Juri, who nods at her. “Yeah. Me too. It might be fun. You remember the barbecues at Ellie’s and Joe’s?” Juri nods once again. Of course he remembers ‘grams’ and ‘gramps’. It felt weird to Mila that he knew her foster parents better than his real grandmother, whom he called ‘baba’. But baba was always baba. Juri gestures at her, expresses a feeling of longing for the three of them. “I miss them too, Malysh.” She smiles. “Think about the barbecue.”

That’s a thought that cheers both of them up. Mila loves barbecues. She has experienced several very different variants of the event during her short lifetime. Hot summer evenings at the Dacha at home in Russia, when the whole neighborhood gathered from the surrounding summer cottages in the largest garden and built a barbecue of old brick or sheet metal. Everyone contributed food and the vodka was lined up on a table. They danced, sang, there was always someone playing the accordion and some dexterous ribbons of wreaths. The smell of smoke settled deep in the clothes, but it did not matter, it was part of the experience itself. It was so easy and homely. In the wee hours, when half the vodka ration was consumed, there could be both hopak dancing and sniping. During the autumn harvest, people also grilled, especially during forest excursions and mushroom picking. Mama fried mushrooms over an open fire while papa boned fish. In the winter, they did the same thing, dressed up in several layers of clothes and fur hats. Their breaths stood like ice clouds from their mouths, but they didn’t freeze and the fire kept their cheeks glowing hot. 

In the States, she got to experience a different kind of barbecue, not as folksy, but still nice in that American, exaggerated way. Joe Galka owned a Weber grill, a piece as big as a piano, Mila thought, to which he was very attached. He could grill most things. In the summers there was a barbecue almost every weekend and friends and family were invited. Mila’s, Billy’s and Adam’s friends were always invited. Even in the States, people brought food to the festivities; meringue pies, apple pies, ribs dripped with sauce, mashed potatoes, salads and god knows what. Significantly less strong booze than the Russian festivities, but all the more pale beer; disgusting Corona and Budweiser, that the middle-aged men, gathered around Joe’s grill, wearing the same type of cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirts, happily sipped. And sniping was out of the question in the suburbs. When Mila met Jim and they went on hikes just the two of them, Mila went in childhood. They grilled over an open fire in the woods, or at a beach, using firewood and matches, an old frying pan and some simple tools. They brought food, coffee, booze and, God forbid, a big bag of marshmallows. Jim loved those grilled, melting sugar bombs, while Mila couldn’t stand them, instead preferring grilled fruit with a little honey and cinnamon. Then they picked out the guitar and the harmonica and sat there, playing and singing Creedence, country and other great songs, in the light of the fire, drinking booze, hearing the waves smoothly run into the sandy shore, the leves rattle in the breeze. 

Despite the fact that Mila sees herself as an established barbecue visitor by now, after exploring her way through several barbecue cultures, this is a new version. Post-apocalyptic barbecue. 

“Wonder what food we get, except for potatoes and corn.” Mila says. Juri chuckles at the thought of an all potato and corn barbecue. “Maybe some-” Mila thinks. “Green beans? Tomatoes? Oh, and what if they have found some broccoli! You’d like that.” 

Earlier in the day, Mila took Juri out outside the safe zone and went on a journey of discovery in a direction they had not previously gone. After 1,2 miles they came to an open field which Mila immediately recognized as a vast potato field. There were a few, ravaged plants sticking out of the soil, but the chance that there were a lot of potatoes hidden underneath was huge. She let out a roar of joy at the discovery and frightened a couple of birds that angrily lifted from the untouched, rugged earth, and flew away to calmer lands. Some distance away, a barn loomed and Mila purposefully steered her steps towards the grayish-brown building, where the paint had begun to flake from the walls. She pushed open the door and went in, made sure that no walkers were lurking before releasing Juri from the harness and instructing him to search for potato sacks, and other useful things. Mila found the potato sacks, while Juri found a rusty shovel. They returned to the field and Mila began scanning the earth for a potentially lush piece to start digging on. Then she started digging, while Juri began to scrape the ground by hand. The sweat evaporated from her forehead, but being out there in the big field with Juri, performing body work, created an endorphin surcharge within her she hadn’t known for a long time. She felt alive. The smell of the earth, the still breeze and the sound of the shovel shaft digging into the ground. It was agrarian, made her homesick for Russia, to the Russian countryside. Sure, it was barren and vast beyond infinity, but she loved it. Her strong, Russian soul needed an outlet right there and then. Mila started singing. A hair-raising, Russian partisan song, something her grandfather sang for her as a child. Then she needed to cheer up the mood a bit, so she started singing “Panic” by The Smiths instead. Whether it was merry was questionable, but the melody was catchy. She then went down on her knees and started to dig with her hands in the soil. Suddenly she felt something in the ground, and triumphantly she pulled out the lower part of a potato plant, where surely eight or ten potatoes were still attached, and they looked really good!

“Jackpot!” Mila exclaimed. 

While digging and tearing up cluster after cluster of potatoes, Mila and Juri talked about all the good potato dishes they could now make, making their mouth water with saliva. Potato gratin, fried potatoes with dill, moussaka with potatoes, one of their absolute favorites. They stopped digging after a sack was filled. Mila had to carry it home, and the sack probably weighed well over 30 kilos, so they stopped working and decided to come back another day, by car. 

“Sorry, malenkiy. Time to use your legs.” said Mila, hoisting the sack onto her shoulder, next to the rucksack. Well, time to use mine as well, she thought and felt the heavy bag weighing her down. If Grandma could carry two full buckets of water from the well twice a day for seventy years, I should be able to carry thirty kilos of potatoes back to Alexandria.

Thank goodness she had tough, lanky muscles. And they didn’t run into anyone on the way back. Soaked in sweat and back inside the Alexandria walls, Mila dropped the heavy bag in front of Carol in the kitchen. Carol looked as if she could not believe her eyes at the sack. Mila went and took a much-needed shower, while Carol and Juri started peeling potatoes. She then helped Rick chop wood. 

“Ya’ good at this.” Rick said as Mila, once again dripping with sweat after that very unnecessary shower, easily split firewood after firewood with the other ax.

“It may sound like a stereotype, but in Russia you learn this early in life, if you do not want to freeze to death.” Mila huffed and wiped her forehead on her arm. “Grandma and grandpa didn’t have electricity. Then you had to chop wood.”

She took a second shower an hour later, and got herself and Juri dressed up in, not fancy clothes, but clean ones, not covered in soil, dirt and potato peel. In front of the mirror she inspected the scar after the wolves machete. It was still red and bumpy, but had healed nicely, a slight miracle since she hadn’t been taking care of it nearly as well as Denise told her to. She then stepped into a pair of blue, worn jeans and ripped a top over her head. While Juri brushed his hair, Mila inspected him and cracked open a bottle of vodka. 

She’s accustomed to pre-parties and has been an avid supporter of the phenomenon since her teenage years; never arrive sober to a party, or a funeral, or anything really if you’re an alcoholic like Mila.

She looks at the brand new bottle of Russian standard in her hand, contemplating if she should sweep it at the spot to increase her chances of ‘mingle and jingle’. Before she turns thought into action Maggie comes up at her right side. 

“One could think everything was somewhat- I dunno, pre- all this.” Maggie says and lifts her eyebrows underneath the side swept brown hair.

“Feels odd.” Mila admits. “Nice, but strange. Be happy you don’t feel sick yet. The barbecue smell would kill you.”

Maggie looks down at the grey tank top underneath the checked shirt, smiles at the sight of her own stomach. It’s not prominently pouting yet, but in a few weeks it won’t be possible to hide the bump. 

“Can’t wait.” Maggie replies ironically and nods towards the vodka bottle.

“You’re prepared for disaster or what?”

“Mouth water.” Mila says simply. “Bad breath.”

“Might be because of the mouth water.” Maggie grins as they catch sight of the bonfire and the Alexandrians, gathered around it. Maggie sniffs in the air as a puff of grilled meat comes their way. “Okay, I’m starting to get really hungry. Holy moly.”

“Preggers cravings.” Mila teases at the same time as she sees Abraham walking towards them, dressed in a button down shirt for the occasion underneath his jacket. “Looking sharp.” She greets him as he reaches the three of them. His red hair burns even brighter in the light of the flames from the fire. 

“Gotta make the best of the opportunity. It’s a party.” He smiles and places a big, bearded kiss on her cheek and gives Maggie a warm hug before he squats and holds up his big palm towards Juri. “High five, little man.” Juri slams his small hand into the big man’s and looks really happy. “Heard ya’ found the potatoes.” Abraham says excitedly. “Great job, dude!” 

Maggie and Mila look at each other. Yup, Juri’s the hero and Mila’s the burro, carrying the goodies more than 1,2 miles back to Alexandria. Nah, I can handle it, she thinks as she sees Juri’s proud grin, being the potato boss for the night. 

“Come on, Romeo.” Mila starts walking towards the fire, that lures her towards its glowing sphere of heat and safety, awakening something primitive within her, a feeling that fire equals safety. 

All of the Alexandria residents seem to be attending. Even Carl sits on a log, dragged in front of the fire, next to Aaron and Morgan. His head is wrapped up and he looks a million times better than two days ago. The color has returned to his cheeks and the sheriffs hat rests homely at the brown curls. Mila smiles at the sight. Rick appears in her field of sight at the same time. He looks fresh out of the shower and as he approaches she clearly feels a faint scent of men’s perfume. 

“Carol’s over the moon with the potatoes.” He greets her as he stops in front of her. 

“Glad I could contribute.” Mila says. “Where’s Daryl?” She looks around, searches for the broad man on the other side of the bonfire and in the shadows, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I haven’t seen him today.” 

Rick shrugs a little, as to say ‘who knows’. 

“Come on.” He nods with his head to the side. “Let’s get ya’ beer.”

“Great.” 

While Juri runs off on his own, around the bonfire to sit with Carl, Mila follows Rick over to a table, set with beer and soda. Michonne’s leaning up against the table top with a Coke in her hand, probably mixed up to a Jack and Coke if Mila knows her right, talking to Sasha and Eugene, who, judging by the strong scent, have bathed himself in shaving water. Carol, an Alexandrian woman and Denise sets the table with bowls of food. Mila’s astonished over the amounts of different dishes and sides they managed to put together for the evening. Sasha and Abraham went on a run and found an abandoned greenhouse, which hid all sorts of vegetables that miraculously survived on their own during the apocalypse. Another group of Alexandrians went fishing and also ran upon a few bewildered chickens, who had to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the festivities. 

“The wall’s coming along nicely.” Mila says as she lets her gaze wander to the wall, where the big gaping hole where the church tower crashed through about a week ago. The debris is all gone and the hole is temporarily fixed with a few cars, but the structure that's supposed to become the new, reinforced wall, is already appearing. 

“It’s gonna be solid.” Eugene says and nods, trying his absolute best to seem cool about it. 

Mila’s been amused by him ever since he introduced himself to her; he’s intelligent, awkward and quite strange, but he certainly entertains her with all his clumsiness and strange talking. Despite her nearly ten years in the States, language is still the biggest challenge. Mila’s still learning new words and expressions and Eugene has undoubtedly made it a challenge for her to understand what he’s saying from time to time.

“Yippie.” Mila preaches as Rick puts a beer bottle in her hand. She takes it and chugs the bottle immediately, feeling a sudden rush of intense thirst only an alcoholic can feel in the presence of beer and booze. The intellectual with the prominent mullet stares at her as she takes the last sip of the bottle and puts it away. His expression pokes at her shenanigan-nerve, fuck she has to mess a little with him. “I’m into some real kinky shit after five bottles.” She therefore says and grins wolf-like at Eugene. 

Eugene’s cheeks turn red like the fire next to him and he swallows. Michonne laughs into her can and both Rick and Sasha grins, struggling not to laugh. Mila reaches forward and pats poor Eugene on the arm.

“Just fucking with you.” She says and blinks. “Cheers.” And she opens the vodka bottle and offers him the first sip. “Here, it’s good for the nerves.”

“You’re a real tearaway.” Sasha says and breaks off the cap on a new Corona light.

“Extremely poor impulse control.” Mila takes back the vodka bottle and takes a bountiful sip, once again feeling the deep sense of thirst down her throat. “It gets worse with age, I notice.” She peeks behind Sasha at the table. “So, what’s for dinner?” 

Carol, who happens to hear her question, comes up to the group at the table, holding a pie between the oven mittens.

“A real feast, that’s for sure.” She explains and puts the pie down. “Ribs, chicken, fish, vegetables, potatoes. Daryl must’ve hit the jackpot, he brought back an entire forest.” Carol smiles and removes the checked oven mittens from her hands. “And pie for dessert.”

“Are we celebrating something?” Sasha says. 

“Being alive?” Michonne taps her fingers at the can.

“Anyone having their birthday soon, or just had? That could be a reason.” Eugene suggests. 

“Don’t even know what date it is.” Mila says and takes another sip of the vodka. “Mine’s in June.”

“Gotta celebrate something.” Eugene continues.

“How ‘bout-” Rick begins. “A party for those who can’t be here.”

“A death party?” Mila raises her eyebrows at Rick. 

“That’s morbid.” Sasha wrinkles her nose.

“Could work.” Mila continues. “Russian funerals often turn into parties. At first people cry something incredibly for hours and hours and hours- Then you drink until you can’t feel feelings anymore.”

“Sounds even more weird.” Eugene expresses. “I like Rick’s idea better.” 

“I’m gonna drink anyway.” Mila snorts and continues to drink. At least she’s dressed up somewhat properly for a funeral reception; black top, black leather jacket and, yeah the fedora might be questionable, but at least she wears black boots! 

They sit down and eat when Aaron, Glenn, Rosita and Gabriel have sliced the grilled meat and put it on the buffet table. Juri’s plate is filled with potatoes and vegetables as well as Mila’s and he’s got a juice box safely placed between his cute feet. They sit on a log with Rick and Carol; eating, drinking and talking while the fire crackles, the cicadas sing behind the wall. The sky above them is starry and the sparks from the fire rises towards the gleaming stars, millions of lightyears away. But Daryl is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is he? Mila looks around every now and then, but Rick assures her that he’s alright. Why wouldn’t he? To calm her mind, she empties the vodka bottle and runs to get another one, just as the party attendants does a turn two at the buffet.

“Ey, look who’s back.” Rick suddenly says and looks at Mila- no, over her shoulder, behind her. 

Mila turns on the log and looks behind her. Daryl comes walking down the street towards them. In the warm light of the fire Mila can see that he’s fine, unharmed, but holds something behind his back. She gets up from the log, a movement that makes the others pause their conversations and laughter to look at her. Mila gets ready to give him a scolding, but Daryl’s facial expression makes her change her mind. It’s soft, somewhat gawky, but yet soft and not stern and grumpy. It strikes her there and then that he hasn’t looked surly at all lately, at least not while looking at her. She takes a step over the log and walks to meet him. The wrinkle created between her eyebrows softens as he stops in front of her in the light of the big fire. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Had a thing to do.” He says and screws a little, but keeps his back straight. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mila looks him straight in the eyes. “But where were you? I was worried.”

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, Mila has come to understand Daryl’s idea, that words are unnecessary sometimes well by now. He takes out what he’s hiding behind his back, and holds it out for her. A guitar. An acoustic sunburst Epiphone, with engraved flowers on the pickguard. Mila stares at the beautiful instrument as Daryl hands it over to her; the shimmery pearly detailing in the maple neck, steel strings and rosewood details. She lifts her gaze and looks at Daryl in awe. 

“Though ya’d like it.” Daryl looks at her, not sure if she’s happy or disappointed. “Ya’ said ya’ played.” 

Yeah, yes she did say that. But she didn’t think he’d remembered. She can’t speak. Instead, Mila wraps her arms around his neck, with the guitar’s neck still in a firm grip. The last time she got a guitar, it was Jim who surprised her with one. He blindfolded her and drove her to the music store where he led her in, like a blind. Mila stumbled on the threshold and tore off her blindfold, red in the face with anger over his shenanigans. But the anger ran off when she saw where she was.

“Pick one.”

“Pick what?”

“A guitar.” Jim reached out his arms to his side, to the guitars hanging around the walls of the shop. “Whatever one you want.”

Mila picked a light sunburst Fender that time. It was left behind in Brooklyn along with Jim’s old, trusted Gibson. At least their guitars were together. 

“Thank you.” Mila whispers into his ear and releases her grip around Daryl’s neck.

It’s one of the finest, most thoughtful gifts she has received in a long time. She squeezes the neck and admires the wooden piece. He really went off and found her a guitar. Around them, the other inhabitants have paused whatever they’re doing, to look at them. Abraham is the one that finally breaks the silence, still chewing on a glazed rib.  

“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Play it, Jersey.” He points at the guitar with the bone.

Her mouth turns into a wide grin. My God, she hasn’t played in awhile and the guitar isn’t even tuned. She takes Daryl’s hand, intervenes her fingers with his and drags him off to the overturned log, steps over it and sits down next to Juri, who looks overjoyed with the possibility of some live music. Her number one fan. Daryl sits down next to her and Carol hands him a plate of food. It’s like someone pressed ‘play’. Everyone starts talking to each other again, eating and drinking, just as before Daryl appeared with the guitar. While Daryl eats, Mila begins to tune the guitar, at the same time as she gets meaningful glances from both Maggie and Carol, who blink at her.

“I did not know you played guitar.” Says Carl and looks wide-eyed at the guitar.

“I'm full of surprises.” Mila smiles cheeky at him.

“Can you make requests?” Rick says and takes a sip of his Corona.

“Depends on the request.” Mila replies. She knows that Rick has a similar taste in music as she; they have more than once hummed along to the same country songs while working, so he won’t have to be disappointed. “I’m a little rusty.” And not nearly drunk enough to feel completely at ease with performing in front of these people, she thinks and looks around. For some reason this is different than before. Different from the bars and the family gatherings with the Galka’s and Jim. “I’ll punch you if any of you say Wonderfall.” Mila squints her eyes at her crowd as she tunes the low E-string, considering the guitar to be in playable condition. 

“Thought it was Wonderwall?” Glenn looks at Maggie, slightly confused.  

“I’ll punch you.” Mila places her fingers on the cold steel strings and strikes a loop of chords, searching for a melody. She quickly finds the sound she’s looking for; huh, she wasn’t that rusty after all. With her tongue in between her teeth she starts playing something random.  

The sheriff's tapping boot is enough for her to pick Rick as her target. 

“Come on, I’m not doing it on my own.”

Rick takes a sip of beer, chuckles a little. But Mila’s serious. As is Michonne. 

“Do it Sheriff.” Michonne bumps Rick in the side. “We got ya’ back.”

Mila doesn’t wait for an answer. He won’t be able to resist later on. She adjusts the guitar on her leg and starts playing a tune, praying to some higher power that her voice won’t break. 

“As long as I remember, the rain's been comin' down. Clouds of mystery pourin', confusion on the ground. Good men through the ages, tryin' to find the sun. And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain-”

She gets chills down her spine as she manages to pull the Creedence classic off pretty decently, sitting at the log between the men in her life, surrounded by her new family. Just as when she performed it at that bar with Jim that first time she performed like that in her life, a couple of years ago. She vomited into a bin before going on stage, or more like a corner with a rug of the small, crowded bar in Brooklyn, but as soon as she had the guitar in her hands and started singing, she felt calm, secure. Jim used to say it was a miracle she learned to play the guitar at the pace she did, having only played piano and the violin during her childhood. Guitars was a dumb instrument, according to her papa. Pff, what did he know? Prison was for dumb people, and look where he was? Mila lets the chord die after the last “-and I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?”, then continues with Springsteen.  

“On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert, I pick up my money and head back into town. Driving 'cross the Waynesboro county line, I got the radio on and I'm just killing time-”

She notices Daryl’s gaze in the corner of her eyes, just as she notices Juri’s nodding head and Abraham saying, mids a chuckle of delighted surprise: 

“I’ll be damn.” 

It’s like inviting all of them into a very special place of herself, a place where she can be something else than a mom, a dental nurse and a girl with a broken past. With a deep, lingering gaze, she tries to communicate that to Daryl, as a way of explaining her trust in him. To her, music is medicine for the soul and the heart. A heritage she has passed on to Juri when giving him the walkman for his birthday. 

“The dogs on Main Street howl, 'Cause they understand. If I could take one moment into my hands, mister I ain't a boy, no I'm a man. And I believe in a promised land-”

She removes her fingers from the strings and the chord echoes out into the night, blends in with the cheering. She’s warmed up now, overflown with the rush of happy adrenaline playing the guitar causes her, just as the applause makes her blush. Okay, let's go with something happy, she thinks.

“Here’s a lil' something to cheer ya’ll up.” She says in her most convincing country-voice, puts her fingers into a ‘G’ and: “Daddy won a radio and tuned it to a country show, I was rockin' in the cradle to the cryin' of a steel guitar-”

It takes Rick ten seconds to hear what song it is, he knows his country music. He jumps into the chorus, at first doubtfully, but encouraged by both Carl and Abe, who have taken out a cigar from his jacket, he seems to think ‘what the hell’, and sings a little louder, with more feeling. And it’s fun.

“Singin 'in the bars and- Chasin' that neon rainbow, livin 'that honky tonk dream.' Cause all I've ever wanted, is to pick this guitar and sing. Just tryin 'to be somebody, just wanna be heard and seen. I'm chasin 'that neon rainbow, livin' that honky tonk dream- “

He continues to sing with her as Mila follows up with the Beatles “Rocky Raccoon”, but lets her continue on her own after that, with both “Thunder road” and a country version of “I’m on fire”.

“Your accent disappears when you sing.” Maggie says as Mila takes a few sips of vodka. 

“Yeah I haven’t figured the reason for that out yet.” Mila wipes her mouth on the back of her hand as she grabs the guitar again, her fingertips pulsating from having to work the strings again. “But singing country with an accent would sound weird, I guess? Okay, one last one.” 

She ends her one woman-show, which could just as well be seen as therapy for her musically starving soul, with Kate Bush’s “Running up that hill”, as the flames from the fire licks the now pitch black sky, sprinkled with millions, billions of stars.   

“Say, if I only could, I'd be running up that hill. With no problems…”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[coolbattlegirl]

The Haunted Mansion

I’m splitting this fanfic into parts, because it is going to be quite long 0w0);

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The sound of music and laughter filled the ballroom as everyone danced and laughed.

While the guests laughed and danced, the lady added the final touches to her makeup; a letter was slipped under her door. Picking up the red envelope, she recognized the name on the envelope.

Smiling, she broke the golden wax seal and opened the letter. The smile she wore dropped as she continued to read. Soon her happy demeanor shifted into one of horror.

"No..." Quickly, she ran out of the room, the letter now discarded on the floor. The hands of the clock struck midnight and rang loudly. Upon reaching her destination, she burst through the library doors. “Mari-!” Tears filled her eye sockets at the sight before her.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" She held the lifeless body of her lover, her cries of anguish filled the mansion. She had been too late. A few days later, the lady of the manor had been found dead. Suicide it, seemed. For she could not live without her beloved. 

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From the distance, Magika heard the rumble of thunder. The skeleton monster looked up to find dark clouds starting to fill the sky. That... that wasn't good. "I didn't bring an umbrella with me..."

The forecast had said it would be sunny all day! What was she going to do? She was too far from home to turn back now. If she rode her bike in the rain, she would definitely end up in an accident.

"I guess I'll have to find someplace to get myself out of the rain then." Which was a problem because there were no houses nearby. Magika quickly shook her head, "I can't give up now! I'm sure I'll find someplace!"

Suddenly another roar of thunder filled the area. Guess she better hurry then. After a few more minutes of peddling later, the skeleton stumbled upon an old yet stunning mansion.

 Magika stared in awe at the ancient structure. “Wow...” She didn’t know that these areas had such a masterpiece hidden inside.

After parking her bike, Magika approached the humongous iron gate that blocked the path to the mansion. Whoever owned this place must have been very wealthy. Despite the gates being worn down by time, it still held it’s beauty. 

As she inspected the gate, Magika noticed that it was locked by a rusty padlock. It seemed to have been here for a long time now. She up at the mansion, Magika tried to see if she could find any life inside, but she saw nothing. 

"I guess it's abandoned then..." Which was a pity because the mansion looked so beautiful.

Magika sighed to herself as she turned around to find another place to wait out the oncoming storm. Sure, she could use this mansion, but Magika wasn't too keen on the idea of breaking in. 

If Corruption was here she was sure her friend would say, “If no one finds out, then it’s not illegal.” Magika couldn’t help but chuckle. “Corruption would definitely say something like that.”

 As the skeleton started to get back on their bike, the sound of creaking was heard from behind her.

"Huh...?" Turning around, Magika found the rusty padlock, that had previously been on the gate, was now on the ground, and the gates had been opened. 

Before the skeleton monster could dwell on the matter, another roar of thunder startled them. And the first droplet of water fell from the sky.

It appears like they would be waiting out the rain here. Not a minute later, and it was pouring. Luckily, Magika managed to get to the front doors just in time. While she waited for the rain to pass by, Magika hummed a small tune to herself. “I should probably send Corruption a text message...”

Fishing her phone out from her pocket, Magika started typing a text message telling Corruption where she was.

"And... sent!" Magika smiled to herself. Now, Corruption wouldn't have to worry! As she placed her phone back into her pocket, Magika couldn't help but yawn. 

Rain always made her sleepy. She looked up at the dark clouds, it didn’t seem like the storm would go away anytime soon.

"So, it wouldn't hurt to take a quick nap, right?" Making herself as comfortable as she could on the cold stone floor, Magika closed her eyes allowed the sound of rain drifts her off to sleep.

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When Magika woke up, they knew something was off. Maybe it was the fact that she was now lying on a very comfortable couch. Which was a bit concerning, to be honest. Because she was pretty sure she had fallen asleep outside and not inside.

Sitting up from the sofa, Magika found herself in what appeared to be a living room? Though it seemed too big to be a living room. A lobby, perhaps? Her thought was interrupted by the crackling sound of fire. 

Turning around, she found an enormous yet beautiful fireplace. "W-wow..." That's one of the largest and prettiest; fireplaces she has ever seen in her life. As Magika admired the beautifully decorated fireplace, she didn’t notice the new presence in the room.

"You're awake." Magika jumped at the sudden voice, turning in the direction of the speaker, Magika was greeted by, she blinked, a maid? 

"Who... Who are you?" Magika fidgeted nervously with the ends of her sleeves. "I am Magnolia, the head maid of this mansion." Magnolia gave her a curtsy.

Magika gave Magnolia a shy smile, "It's nice to meet you too, Magnolia." The maid gestured for Magika to follow her, and the young skeleton quickly followed the maid. 

"Uh... Where are we going?" Without looking back, Magnolia replied, "To see the lady." Was she talking about the person who owned this mansion?  

The maid suddenly stopped in her tracks, causing Magika to narrowly avoid bumping into her. Magnolia knocked sharply on the wooden door, "Come in." Came a reply. 

With those words said, Magnolia opened the door, gesturing to Magika to enter. Magika complied, and the moment she stepped inside the room, she heard the door close. "Alright... that's fine..."

Magika looked around the room and judging from its appearance, it seemed to be a library. Numerous books lined the bookshelves and floor. Magika couldn't help but look around in awe, "Wow... this place looks amazing." 

The skeleton that she had not yet noticed; closed the book that they had been reading earlier and set it on the table. "Why, thank you. My grandmother spent a lot of time building this place."

Magika turned to find another skeleton monster sitting by the fireplace. They wore a blue sweater and a red skirt. Magika also noticed that they had golden eyes like her, but they had a hint of red in them, and below their left eye socket, a crack ran down their cheek. She supposed that this was the “lady” Magnolia had been talking about.

"She built this?" Magika's eyes sparkled with curiosity, "It's absolutely breathtaking! Did she also design the mansion?”

The monster couldn't help but smile at the look of amazement on the young skeleton's face. "Would you like a tour of the mansion then?" Magika gasped, "R-Really? I don't know to bother you..."

The skeleton giggled to herself before smiling, "It does not bother me, really. It's been a while since I've had company. You wouldn't imagine how surprising it was to find you taking a nap on my front steps." Warmth rushed up to Magika's face. Oh stars, that was embarrassing.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to trespass or anything. I was just trying to get out of the rain." Magika played with the ends of her sleeves. It was a habit she always did when she was nervous. 

The monster smiled at Magika, "It's quite alright. I would've done the same, Magika. Besides... I’m happy that you’re here."

She nodded, relieved to know that they weren't mad."Thank you... um..." The owner of the mansion seemed to understand as she smiled, "Please, call me Void."

Magika smiled at them, "It's nice to meet you, Void!"

[elphenfan]

Nesting (Good Omens) 7/?

Chapter One I Chapter Two I Chapter Three I Chapter Four I Chapter Five I Chapter Six I Chapter Seven

I am so sorry - I never meant to make people wait this long. Thank you to everyone who’s been following me and liking and everything <3

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His hand stroked across the feathers that he could reach again and, despite his desire to keep them open, his eyes fluttered shut all on their own and refused to open again. So, he felt his way across the feathers instead, trying to weigh and decide which one to pull.

Each feather had its own meaning when it came to nests. To some extent regarding the angel who’d begun nesting, although, since that was as often feathers that had fallen off themselves rather than having been explicitly pulled, not as much significance could be placed upon that. Not unless it was specifically made clear that the angel in question had pulled the feather out themselves.

Of course, there was something to be gleaned from them if the angel had saved the feathers that had moulted previously and had chosen one or more of them to display in the nest. But since angels so rarely lost feathers without their conscious decision to remove them, that was a very rare occurrence that couldn’t be put as much stock in.

As a matter of fact, as much if not more could be gleaned from where the nest feathers had been placed in the nest, such as at the ‘front’ of a nest, visible to all; the fateful feather he’d seen on the floor had likely been meant to sit prominently on a table or similar and had blown down from where it had been placed when the door opened.

When it came to the feather the angel who was being courted and nested for gave in return, however, there was a whole set of meanings, including whether you gave just the one feather or more, and in what combination.

Primary feathers would be a statement. Large, long, and essential to flying on account of their generating of both thrust and lift, they tended to be favoured as the receiving feather by angels who thought themselves the dominant in the relationship; someone who could manage a flight without one.

Not that was the only meaning – originally, the symbolism had been more along the lines of the recipient being the one who helped steer them in the right direction – but even Crowley knew that nowadays, angels who didn’t want to dominate rarely if ever pulled purely a primary feather. It was a statement that he did not want to make, however long and beautiful they actually were.

Gabriel would, if someone was to nest for them, be the type who would exclusively give one primary feather.

Coverts, whether primary or secondary, greater, median or smaller, weren’t as important and by some seen as too inferior a wing to be used for something as important as the nesting ritual. However, their meaning was actually far more intimate, smaller though they were, as well as cuter and sweeter, and, to a good number of angels and demons alike, communicated far more. As they were the ones that guaranteed smooth airflow across the wing, their symbolism, when given as a pair, as was the norm, was that the recipient was the one who helped the giver get through whatever they needed and that the giver helped in turn.

Secondaries were somewhere in between those two, not as small and sweet as the coverts and not as big and impressive as the primaries, for all their importance to flight. Their symbolism lay in that the recipient lifted the other up and made their existence possible.

There were many more nuances to it than that, of course, and Crowley was perhaps slightly rusty on what those were, or at least whether they’d changed significantly, but he thought he knew what to do. It helped that it wasn’t what he ought to do, by the standards of other angels or just mere convention, but it was what he knew to be right for the two of them.

What he, Anthony J. Crowley, wanted to communicate to his love.

It was just as well that composite and complex meanings could be drawn from the combination of feathers.

Eyes still closed, he inched his hand across by feel and his vivid mental image of how his wings looked until he came to the feather group he wanted. There he sought out, guided by his mental image, the softest and prettiest feather of its type and tugged.

Normally, the plucking of the reciprocating feather would be done shielded from the view of the nesting angel so it would remain a surprise until they were presented. Crowley wasn’t just okay with Aziraphale being able to see him choose, however – even though his eyes were still closed, he could feel the weight of the gaze on him – he was actually happy that it was happening this way.

It would allow him to show his angel that he was putting thought into this, as much as he possibly could. Show him that he was a hundred percent behind this decision without any hesitation or reservations.

If Aziraphale could find the courage to build a nest that was meant for Crowley, then Crowley could find the courage to equally bare his heart, through his choice of feathers – and the order in which he plucked them.

The first that he closed his fingers around, carefully so as not to damage any part of it, was one of the median coverts, close to where the wing met his body. He pulled, mindful to keep it whole while still doing it hard enough to dislodge it without causing too much pain. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help flinching a little as he tugged and thereby, he almost missed the small intake of breath that came from Aziraphale.

He knew the symbolism lying in the feathers, of course.

“Crowley…” he whispered, his voice a little odd. Coverts were usually given in pairs, after all.

Managing to open his eyes at last, the demon held up his index finger on the hand that held the now free, relatively small feather. Rather than giving it to the angel straight way, he placed it very delicately on one slim thigh.

The angel’s face fell a little at that, but Crowley held the finger up again, signalling that he ought to wait.

Now that his eyes were open, he could watch Aziraphale’s eyes track his fingers’ movement back up towards the still outstretched wings. They were wide and warm, filled with interest, naked hope and joy and astonishment, as though he couldn’t quite fathom what was going on.

Crowley knew precisely how he felt.

The second feather he closed his fingers gingerly around was a primary, the prettiest of the bunch. It wasn’t the longest or the largest, but it was by far the one that always looked the best of the lot of primaries when he inspected them and so it was the obvious choice. The only choice, really.

The intake of breath from Aziraphale was rather more noticeable at that and his eyes flickered over to the ginger’s face as if to wanting to make sure that the other knew what he was about to do.

Crowley didn’t say anything, nor did he nod. Instead, he moved his fingers up a little to a better spot and tugged once, with enough force to pull the feather out smoothly. Again, he couldn’t quite help wincing despite being a little better prepared this time. They were not meant to go, even though they could grow them back, and he could certainly feel that.

But it didn’t matter. He would happily do it, would suffer pain infinitely worse than that if he could somehow help his angel.

When it was free, Aziraphale’s eyes were, if possible, even wider and he was holding out his hand. Not in any way demanding but rather anticipatory; it was evident that he thought Crowley had finished plucking the feathers he wanted to give.

He hadn’t.

Once again, he placed the feather on his thigh, on top of the other, as gently as possible.

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale said, a minute quaver in his voice that could be awe or slight admonishment. Or perhaps just a smidgeon of tears, or any combination thereof.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley returned, pouring as much warmth into his voice as he could without making it seem like he was giving into the implicit plead.

He was about to reach for the next when he saw one plump hand, the one not still tangled with his own, start to creep towards his thigh, slowly enough that he wasn’t meant to spot it.

“No,” he said, without reaching out to intercept it and sure enough, it stopped on its own.

“My dear,” the angel said again, now sounding a little pleading. “Enough.”

“No,” Crowley repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Not yet. Wait. Please.”

He wasn’t done yet. There was a purpose to this and he was going to see it through. The pain would fade soon enough, relatively speaking.

However, looking at the anxious and concerned expression creeping its way across Aziraphale’s face, he realised that he shouldn’t prolong it longer than necessary. Yes, this was important but there was no need to make the angel worry unnecessarily.

So, to that end, he gently and reluctantly untangled his hand from the angel’s, who at first tried to keep them together. Something which sent something warm blossoming inside the demon’s chest, which was already close to incandescent.

Then he reached out with both hands at once. He’d already plucked a feather from each wing, with a bit of difficulty on the second, as he’d had to curl the other wing around to be able to reach, all without smacking it into the angel. It helped that it had been a primary, at least.

Now, he reached for one from each, again going by feel rather than visual. He couldn’t look at both at once, even if he tried. In any case, he was determined to keep looking at his angel.

The two feathers he was going for would be the last and they would tie them all together. Hopefully in a way that would be interpreted as he intended, but he couldn’t see how it couldn’t be. Then again, with their track record…

One hand closed around a second covert, this time a greater one further out on the wing, which made reaching easier, while the other found a secondary feather. Taking a deep breath, he pulled, a noise escaping him despite his efforts as pain shot from both places at once, which mingled with the one still emanating from the two other spots where he’d taken wings from.

“Crowley!”

“It’s… alright,” he managed. He also managed a smile, somehow. It really was okay, even if it hurt.

“No, it most definitely is not!” Aziraphale didn’t look angry, though, and as he helped bring them down to join the others on Crowley’s thigh, it didn’t seem as though the feathers were unwanted.

As soon as they’d been placed, however, he reached back up and, hesitating only briefly, he touched his fingers to where two of the feathers had been removed.

Crowley watched him, eyes wide in turn, not even remotely expecting that to happen. He was also trying not to react to the sensation of having the other’s fingers touch him there, which was made more difficult by not only the pain that still throbbed but both the sensation of having an angel touch something so tied to his own fallen angel status and that of Aziraphale touching him somewhere so, well, intimate.

It made for a very peculiar combination of feelings, pain mingling with cold burning and warm and pleasant tingling.

“Aziraphale,” he said, his voice soft and just a little strangled.

“Hold on just a moment, dear,” Aziraphale muttered, his eyes flickering up briefly to the ginger’s face before focusing back down on his hands, a light frown of concentration on his brow as he smoothed his fingers ever so gently across the affected area. He hummed in his throat, soft but with a purpose.

Normally, he would, just like Crowley, snap his fingers to facilitate a miracle, even if the directions of the snap were, obviously, opposite, and of course, he could do that now. Easily.

But that was not what he did.

Instead, he let his fingers rest over the wounds, pressing lightly into it while still humming.

Something tingling and cool but simultaneously itching and warm spread through him, taking the pain with it and leaving a feeling of relieving numbness both in the places that were touched but also the other two spots where he’d plucked the other feathers. But it didn’t stop there.

The hum rose in volume a little, then, and Crowley couldn’t suppress a loud yet strangled gasp as he felt the itching return, more intense than before and then –

Then he could feel something grow. Not a quick resetting of his previous state, not a fast and sharp miracle that left you wondering whether something had been amiss in the first place.

A slow, itching but not painful regrowth of the feathers he had plucked. He turned his head to look, to make certain what he felt was really happening and sure enough, he could see them grow, starting from the calamus and the interlocking barbs to where the calamus became a rachis and the barbs became vanes. Each one a perfect duplicate of the one that he had only just pulled from his wings.

His gaze flicked down quickly to make sure and indeed, all four feathers were still on his thigh.

But that was – that wasn’t how things were done!

“Aziraphale!” he exclaimed in protest. Which was rather a moot one, given that they’d already been grown back and everything, but the point was still there, he felt. “You can’t – you shouldn’t!”

Aziraphale, who’d pulled back a little to look at his handiwork, blinked, eyebrows raised as though he didn’t understand what the problem was. “Shouldn’t I? You were in pain, dear, when you shouldn’t be. I was merely setting it right.”

“Healing is one thing. But not growing them back!”

“Why not?” the angel asked, still sounding innocent.

“Why – because that…that undermines the whole bloody thing.”

What was the point of the feathers being plucked from him if they were re-grown moments later? It was supposed to have significance, that they were important to him, essential to attaining flight and yet he was willing to pluck them for his nestmate-to-be. It was supposed to show the equal commitment to the relationship that the nesting angel had displayed through said nest.

But Aziraphale shook his head. “No. It does not. Does it cheapen the nest that the feathers there are ones that have fallen off rather than ones I’ve intentionally plucked?”

“No of course not!”

“Well, then – “

“No. That’s different. Far, far different. Reciprocating feathers are supposed to be plucked with intentionality – “

“And you did, my dear,” the blond interrupted. He carefully grasped Crowley’s bony hands in his, his fingers overlaying warm palms. “You plucked four of them when it is exceedingly rare for angels, now as it has ever been, to go beyond three and certainly not from all three sets of feathers.”

He hesitated suddenly, a blush creeping its way, deep and obvious, across his cheeks. However, he was smiling the happiest little smile Crowley thought he ever had.

“There can be no doubt of your sincerity or commitment, and I don’t see why you should be in pain with them gone or while they, maybe, regrow, just because that is the way it is traditionally done.”

Crowley couldn’t help it; he gaped at the angel, not quite believing what he was hearing. At the same time, though, his heart was suddenly going, if not a mile a minute, then at least a kilometre.

Did he truly just say that? Not only the acknowledgement of Crowley’s sincerity – which, quite honestly and when he thought about it, the angel couldn’t be blamed for if he’d been unsure of previously – but the implications about Heaven, through how it was ‘traditionally done’?

He’s already decided to nest for his hereditary enemy – and really, how does that phrase even make sense for angels and demons? Inherited from whom, exactly? God? – which, should anyone from Heaven work out, will be a far greater and, some might say, only real threat, especially since you’ve accepted it. Compared to that, how that ritual went and whether it complied with traditions is rather an irrelevant side note.

But it proved the shift in mindset, one that spoke of his own sincerity, at least to Crowley’s admittedly rather befuddled and tired mind. To be honest, though, he knew he’d feel the same if he was fresh as a daisy.

The blush on the angel’s cheeks deepened.

“Well, I…I know I did overstep, but perhaps you’d forgive me – “

“Angel.”

Aziraphale shut up immediately.

“Angel, you – you are incredible.” He could feel a smile break out onto his face, one which would turn into a grin if he let it.

However, he needed to school his face back into something calmer; he still needed to give the feathers to the angel, however much tradition could be altered. This was for him, not tradition.

And for him, he wanted to do this as right as possible. Even though it wasn’t a surprise, even though Aziraphale was already perfectly aware of the implications and symbolism of the feathers on their own and together and even in the order they’d been plucked and he’d technically not achieve much, if anything, by giving them to the angel at this point.

That didn’t matter, however. It was the gesture of giving it, or them, to the one who’d nested. The acceptance of the nest itself and through it, the angel who’d done the nesting, in turn accepting the giver of the feathers, sealing them, as it were, as nestmates.

He wanted the reassurance, he supposed, that he was indeed the one that had been chosen when the angel accepted his feathers.

No, wait, that wasn’t right. Not quite, at least. He did still have trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that it was indeed him the nest was for and not some other, far better angel than him and yes, from that did rise a need for reassurance, in a way, but it was more fair to say that what he wanted was proof positive.

Something to convince his head and heart that this was really happening; it wasn’t a dream, or one wrapped in a nightmare, that he was going to wake up from with his body trembling and shaking in the dual pain and pleasure of having been given what he’d so wanted only to have it revealed as the figment that it was and snatched away from him.

This was reality, as far as he could tell, and yet, in this actual reality, he was here, in Aziraphale’s nest made for him, and he was about to give the angel his feathers in exchange.

It didn’t feel like reality.

Gently and carefully, he pulled his hands from the grasp of the blond. Then, without looking down, he equally gently scooped up the feathers, again mindful not to damage them, never mind the fact that he could mend them with a snap of his fingers. That wasn’t the point.

Transferring them to one hand for a moment, he took the plumper hand with his freed one and turned it palm up. He released the hand after that and took a feather at a time up to show, regardless of the fact that Aziraphale already knew, then placed it carefully down on the open palm of the angel, caressing the skin there with the vanes.

His angel watched him, eyes as wide as saucers and as warmly burning as a newly fed log fire, the smile adorning his face growing stronger and more…awed, possibly, but not…in a negative way or…perhaps it was better to call it deeply moved, flowery as that might sound.

All of that seemed to only increase with each feather he placed as gently as the first on the open palm, even though that ought to at some point become impossible. Along with it, the…what he could only describe as love – no other word made even the remotest bit of sense – shone ever clearer and brighter, which made Crowley’s heart burn sweetly and sing.

Normally, this was all accompanied by some words spoken by the angel giving the feathers. Sometimes they were made up in the moment while other times they had been carefully prepared. Some were short, some long and rather long-winded. Almost all of them were sincere.

Crowley had indeed also opened his mouth to say something once the last feather, the first covert plucked, had been placed, to express just what his angel meant to him, at least as much as it was possible to put that into such an inadequate medium as words. When he did open his mouth, however, no words would come, despite efforts to force them.

He tried again, to no avail.

Then, as he saw the smile that threatened to take over the angel’s face, a smile that could only really be called a beam, and felt a hand take his and place it ever so gently over the feathers, the blond’s hand resting itself atop his bony one.

Aziraphale shook his head and while Crowley’s heart didn’t drop – he wouldn’t have let him place the feathers if, well – and it didn’t stop feeling warm, it certainly did something funny inside his chest.

Then he spoke.

“Dearest, it’s quite alright. You don’t have to say anything.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest but Aziraphale interlaced his fingers with the ones that were underneath them, carefully so as not to damage the feathers.

“You don’t,” he reiterated. “You’ve already said far more than I possibly could’ve – “ thought, Crowley mentally finished, his mind filling it in without his say-so, but was proven wrong when Aziraphale continued, “ – hoped for you to say with the feathers alone, all of which are utterly beautiful to look at, too. To be quite honest, I feel like my heart will burst right through my chest and discorporate me any moment.” His continued smile was still a beam, his cheeks were redder than a sunset at the right angle and

Well, that was – well. Crowley’s heart wasn’t far behind. Or it might just float out through his open mouth with how light it felt.

He felt his face warm and though he would’ve liked to blame it on the temperature in the room or the lighting, he knew that he was colouring for a different reason altogether.

“Aziraphale,” he finally managed, tightening his interlaced fingers and ignoring the shushing sound from the blond, “I – I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to say but I want to say this. Please?”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Please.”

“I love you,” Crowley said.

After everything, it probably wasn’t necessary to say. Possibly not, at least. It might, quite honestly, even sound a little bit flat and trite, compared to the gesture of the nest and the giving of the feathers. Something human that wasn’t needed by angels, fallen or not.

That might all be true but regardless, he needed and wanted to say it; after six thousand years of feeling it inside, only burning stronger and fiercer the longer they knew each other, without any chance of speaking it out loud and certainly not to the object of his affection.

It had never seemed a possibility that he could, that it would be unwelcome, and that was the previously thought best case scenario, so now that it seemed to not only be allowed but actively welcomed, well…there was no way he wasn’t going to say it.

If he was allowed, he would say it at any given opportunity.

Judging by the expression on the angel’s face as the words left his mouth, even he would have to say that there was no doubt he would be allowed.

If other angels had seen it, they probably would’ve been appalled – ignoring the fact that they were an angel and a demon and shouldn’t even be associating, never mind becoming nestmates – to know that that had made as much of an impact, as far as the ginger could tell, as the feathers had.

Which only made his heart feel even lighter, if possible, even as it ached in the most pleasant way he’d ever experienced.

“I love you,” he repeated, looking into the other’s eyes. “I love you so much, Aziraphale, my angel, so fucking much I can’t even find the words to say – mmph!”

What caused his sudden inability to say anything further was that his mouth was covered. Not by a hand but by lips pressing against his, for a definition, as his mouth had been open around the word ‘say’ and the angel’s lips therefore touched teeth as much as they did Crowley’s lips.

That could be rectified quite easily, though, and so he quickly brought his lips together and kissed back, no hesitation or uncertainty. That wasn’t to say he was unaffected by it, but his body knew how to move in such circumstances even when his brain was more or less short-circuiting. Not that it hadn’t been through quite a lot since Aziraphale had returned unexpectedly early.

At some later point he would puzzle at the coincidence that was Aziraphale returning home at that exact moment but right then and there, he didn’t spare it a thought.

To be fair, though, he had something else and entirely more important on his hands right then; Aziraphale was kissing him. On the lips, with his eyes closed and his face redder than anything that should be healthy, he was pressing their lips together…a bit too hard, actually. Crowley noticed that, somehow, and even when he tried to ease up a bit himself, to keep it sweet, not to pull away, Aziraphale followed him, as though he was afraid to break contact.

Using the one that wasn’t laced with the angel’s, the demon brought his hand up to slide it to the back of his neck, fingers immediately slipping into the blond hair that even at the nape looked oh-so-soft. To his delight, it was just as downy soft and fluffy as it looked, as he’d imagined it would be for so long.

They were both sitting awkwardly, not to mention somewhat precariously on Aziraphale’s part, as his arse was perched rather at the edge of the seat of the chair. It didn’t matter, though, not when Crowley was able to guide his angel into a…not a better kiss but one which could be slow and warm. There was no need to be tense.

Even so, Aziraphale pulled back soon after. Not that far and it did seem to be more than a bit reluctantly.

“I do apologise, I am rather out of practice with that,” was what he said, which threw Crowley for a loop.

Out of practice? Out of – who the flying fuck had he been practicing on before now and where – no. No, that was not helping. It could be for any number of reasons, including an assignment and in any case, it didn’t matter. What did matter, the only thing that really mattered, was that he was doing it here, now, with Crowley.

The demon almost missed what was said next. “I know I rather sprung that on you, too, but I just – to hear you say it, out loud, I couldn’t…I couldn’t help myself and it was probably a bit too much – “

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, gently, moving forward, still mindful of the feathers they held, until their noses touched. “It was just perfect, do you hear me?”

“But – “

“Perfect, so shut up.”

That brought out, of all things, a chuckle bordering on a giggle. Crowley grinned in turn.

“I love you, too, my dear,” the angel said, squeezing the hand he held, “and I am so very sorry I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“Pretty much think that’s a case of people in glass houses, don’t you?” Crowley returned.

A small but happy smile. “Well. Perhaps.”

The ginger pulled back a little, just to be able to better see the other. “Besides, you were the one who had the balls to not just build the nest but keep it and keep building on it.”

“Crowley, really, your language does leave – wait, what do you mean, ‘keep it’?”

[blehbleehhhh]

A Princess and a Barbarian Cheiftain ft. EreMika❣️

Hey, Braveheart anon! 💕 I see you! I hope you like it. I'm sorry it took forever to write .-. I pictured Mikasa as a warrior princess so I hope you don’t mind that lol. Please send in more requests! Also, an interesting fact from all the research I did for this one - the word "barbarian" did not have a negative meaning for everyone in the Roman Empire. It was actually used to refer to the people immigrating into their territory and not at all meant to be derogatory. I went back and forth with using historically accurate Barbarian Tribe names and writing in the Roman Empire but then I'd really have a restriction so ehhh, whatever. That's who I'm referring to when I say the "Empire'. Hope you enjoy because this damn thing took ages to fucking write! Shout out to my hubby for helping me with this! This is also a good time for me to introduce a new thing I’d like to try if people actually like it, add a drawing to my fics. Ever since I started writing this one I had a vision of Eren sitting in a chair like that with them both decked out in armor idk, I’m pretty rusty, it’s been a MINUTE since I’ve picked up my pencils, lol. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys. Yes, there’s smut, there’s angst, don’t think I have to actually put a warning in but someone complained .-.

It's a cold, frigid December morning and Princess Mikasa is on the back of her young horse with sights set on a local barbarian village because her father is finally responding to the violence done by their chieftain, a fierce and talented warrior. Emperor Ackerman wants to establish some sort of a peace treaty with him in the hopes of preventing such acts from ever occurring again, at least attacks that would be under his direction and blessing. The village is hidden behind a tall wall made from wood and what an impressive sight on the other side of the gate - a large, expansive crop field being tiled by farmers, crop animals being maintained for food and wool conveniently located near a tannery, where the hides are made into clothing then sold to villagers, and of course, a stables with a large grazing field for their horses. Mikasa was surprised to see a black smithery where one smith was currently molding a dagger out of scalding hot iron, his shop displaying many goods ranging from weapons to lock keys to horseshoes, all of the items she's seen the smiths make around her hometown. Villagers were minding their own business for the most part and working their trades, some grooming animals, some sweeping the dust out of their shops while children were running around a large tree in the center of town surrounded with dead leaves, giggling as they played tag and tossed such vegetation in the air. The princess gave her trusty steed's meaty neck a rewarding pat down by his shoulders, making his fluffy, dark ears perk up with interest, standing perfectly still as she carefully dismounted to put her stirrups back up into the saddle. Someone she recognized as being one of her father's previous subjects approached and copied Mikasa's smile when he was handed the reins. "Your Elegancy." The elderly man moved to bow respectfully and was stopped with a gentle, kind hand on the shoulder, looking up to meet her eyes with a confused expression.

"Please, that really isn't necessary, but thank you for being so respectful. Just take care of my horse for me, sir, that's all I ask."

"Of course! Some of the best hay in the area!" He turned with a smile to guide the twelve hundred pound animal into a temporary stall, where he carefully removed it's bridle and bit before locking him in behind a short, wooden stall door, allowing the horse to graze on some of their hay. Just like her Uncle Levi has taught her over the years he's been mentoring his young niece, she took in a deep breath to center herself with the advice he'd given her before she left this morning; You cannot make good decisions without a clear mind. Something that he's always insisted and Mikasa has definitely found that to be the case. And so one last time she thought through the steps Levi has constantly hounded into her head, since her parents were always too busy to raise their own child and teach these lessons themselves - the most important being to not let emotions get in the way of negotiations. The largest hut is the one she assumes to be reserved for the chieftain and it's guarded by two barbarian brutes that are definitely not intimidating at least to her, which is why she simply nodded as she opened the old, wooden door. It was difficult to maintain her trademark blank expression when she saw him - someone who doesn't even come close to resembling the stereotype that follows barbarian chieftains. There he sat upon a wooden throne boosted up on three stone slab steps and clearly missing the anticipated grisly bear of a beard in favor of a cleanly shaven, surprisingly handsome face that's framed with pushed back shoulder length, chocolate brown hair, his skin sun kissed from always being outside, and eyes so green that she swore her heart skipped a beat. What was just as surprising to her is that he appears to be about her young age of twenty four, something she didn't expect to be possible given such an impressive reputation. "Eren Jaeger?" Mikasa could feel herself blush when he responded with what she loathes to admit is quite a sexy smirk, her cheeks red already from being in the cold, and she watched his eyes as they clearly sized her up. The young man sat taller in his seat and was genuinely unsure if his eyes were in fact deceiving him because surely one of the princesses wouldn't be a warrior, but based on the armor she's wearing, it's obvious that this ravishing creature fights for the empire.

"Ah, your Elegancy. What can I do for you?"

"This destruction has gone on for long enough and it has to stop, so I've been sent here to negotiate peace."

"Why would the empire give a damn about what we do?"

"We assume that you're the one responsible for that local town being decimated? You know," Mikasa sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "The fifth one this year?" He simply gave her a slow nod and pulled his hair back into a small, low ponytail at the nape of his neck, now flashing an amused grin that she's counting things out for added effect. "Okay, we'll continue. How about all of those castles that have been destroyed? The crop fields bunt? The countless Lords and knights you've killed? I realize someone else could have done this, but you're our most problematic tribe." Eren smiled and nodded his head, leaning his cheek on his fist because she’s simply alluring.

"Oh no, that was most definitely me."

"Why? You have killed so many people! Why?"

"I've been doing it for years now. Why would you get involved now?"

"Because you're out of control! What is the meaning of this?"

"You aristocrats and your stupid government have some laws that tend to be harmful to my people and I simply cannot have that. I refuse to tolerate injustices of any kind when there's something that can be done about it!" Eren leaned forward in his throne as his fists slammed into the wooden arm rests and was surprised when she didn't cower, it seems he won't be getting his way with this one. "Besides, I tend to attack other tribes that fuck me over and I could care less what your father thinks of me."

She simply rolled her eyes.

"What could those people have possibly done to warrant such extreme violence?"

"The most recent village happened after I had attempted to establish a peace treaty with their leader, so I sent one of my best men over. Only his head returned three days later hanging off the horse's saddle."

"I'm sorry about your loss," And then her expression fell sympathetic when she pictured a sight so horrific. "I really can't imagine." His face softened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah, well, I know you're not here to give your condolences. You want peace with me?"

"That, and I would love to actually give the families of Lords and knights some kind of closure instead of just staring at them blankly -" She paused to take a deep breath when she remembered that day in battle, where a very dear friend was ruthlessly murdered. Nobody could have done anything to stop the blitz attack, because the one who killed him rode past on their horse so quickly that there wasn't any time to respond. And suddenly her face grew as fierce as before. "One of my Uncle's best legionnaires was killed in battle last year with your men. I was there when he was decapitated, Eren, and the killer looked an awful lot like you." In a second his eyes screamed irritation and he sat forward in his throne almost growling.

"Yeah, I know exactly who you're talking about. That asshole was responsible for wiping out half of my men with your Uncle's assistance! Those people had families!"

"He left behind a wife and two little boys!"

"And should you aristocrats decide not to feed these people when they inevitably become poor," Eren smirked as he cracked his knuckles because he knows that his words have made her angry and he finds it extremely amusing. "I'm happy to take them in as I so often do when they wander away from the city. Those two morons back there were originally a part of your father's empire." The girl knit her brows together and growled under her breath because she's all too aware of the empire’s failings when it comes to caring for its people who aren't wealthy. She snarled under her breath and allowed her hands to curl into fists at her sides.

"Why, you gargantuan piece of -!" Mikasa paused and took a deep breath to collect herself. "I'll have you know that he was a very good man and someone you probably could have taken some pointers from!" Those words immediately changed the room's atmosphere and both of them felt it as they tried to intimidate the other with their increasingly heated exchange.

"So what," He rose from his throne tall and definitely commanded the room with such an intimidating presence, smelling of ale and nature. "Because I'm brutal with my enemies, I can't be a gentleman?" The fur pelt around his neck swayed as he slowly walked down the slab steps, their eyes watching each other with mutually fierce expressions. Now, this woman is stunning. Until the princess waltzed in, Eren has never really felt tempted enough to bother with something as distracting as being in some kind of relationship, but she's definitely worth the effort. There truly isn't anything he finds sexier than a woman this passionate, actually cares, and actively pursues justice, hell, the fact that she's so attractive is nothing more than icing on the cake. Her eyes are a beautiful gray-blue and they go so well with long, silky black hair that frames such a slim and angelic face, matching perfectly with her fair skin. Yes, Mikasa certainly is every bit as breathtaking as he's so often heard her described from others that had the privilege of being graced with her presence. But he can tell from her body language that his usual intimidation tactics haven't managed to get things straightened so far and with a glance behind her, he nodded at the two men standing guard at the building's entrance. "You two. Out. Now." His eyes flickered down to hers once more as he reached for a water canteen and brought it to his lips, finishing whatever was left in a large gulp before setting the empty container down on the table. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed deeply.

"You certainly don't behave like a gentleman."

"Aw, that isn't a very nice way to negotiate, princess."

"I hate being called that. And I'm only behaving this way because you're being an ass. How dare you speak to me that way!"

"Respect is earned, princess," Eren smirked as he slipped his hands into his fur lined pockets, eyes giving her a second once over. "And I have no respect for the empire. You have a failing economy, the taxes are much too high, and you're so lazy that you literally use barbarian tribes to guard your fucking borders! Just what kind of an army is your Uncle running?"

"Well, it's better than a bunch of assholes who rape women, murder innocent people and destroy lands!"

"This tribe doesn't rape women. I've actually had quite a few of my own men executed for doing that. And I don't have people executed unless I think it's called for." Because he was just as passionate about this response, Mikasa reasoned that she's being told the truth when he insists such behaviors aren't tolerated here. "But I won't deny destroying lands, crops, killing Lords and knights, because I did all of that to protect my people. We're fighting for our lives just like everyone else." She briefly looked away with a sigh and pushed her fingers through her hair when she met his eyes once more with a considerably softened expression.

"I appreciate that, Eren, I really do, but if you don't it knock off the brutality, I'll be forced to have you and your men executed."

"Oooh," The young man smirked as he took a few steps closer to her and was surprised when she didn't back away, only flashed a genuine smile he finds to be extremely beautiful, pressing her fists into her sides. How cute. "Is that a threat?"

"No, actually, it's a promise," Mikasa smiled and bit her lower lip as they intently studied each other's eyes, an amused grin teasing his lips because he's never felt so attracted to someone before and boy does he want her. "I already have permission to have you all killed. Hell, I'll decapitate you myself."

"A princess that yields a sword? You are as impressive as I've heard."

"I have a collection." She flashed a devilish grin and cocked an eyebrow, very aware that his eyes are drawn to her lips and she was extremely flattered. Little did she know that smirk he wears is because he's ashamed to have already wondered briefly if she's this playful in bed.

"What's in it for me if I cooperate?"

"You mean besides living?"

"I think you know exactly what I meant." Eren brought a hand to his mouth, itching the corner with his finger as he briefly looked away because he's extremely amused, especially now that she has taken a few steps closer with her eyes still glued on his. They flickered down to his lips, her rational mind quickly being over powered since she's giving some serious consideration to defying Levi's instruction and giving in to this undeniable, magnetic spark between them that neither are really willing to resist. Love at first sight indeed.

"You won't be invaded and we won't destroy your crops."

"While that is appreciated, I'm afraid it's just not enough."

"Any tribes that you struggle with?"

"Yeah," He crossed his arms over his chest as they got closer and smiled at just how much he's truly enjoying this fire she has. "There are a few. Unfortunately, we aren't quite strong enough to deal with them on our own now thanks to your Uncle, since they're many in number and much larger than the ones I've already taken care of." The young woman bit her lower lip as she studied his face, so chiseled and handsome. Even the man she's been engaged to since she was four doesn't look at her like this.

"We can help you fight them."

"You also have a few of my people in custody that I'd really like back."

"Okay," Mikasa smiled as she pushed her fingers through her hair, the strands slowly falling before her eyes. "I can get them out of jail and talk with my father about maybe getting their charges dropped." He just slowly nodded his head in agreement and smirked as he closed the small gap that remained between them, an action that made her cheeks a little rosy.

"Now, that is an interesting offer."

"Well, wait a second, you need to hold up your end," She hesitantly placed a hand on his chest and was relieved when he simply smiled instead of backing away. "All we want is your cooperation if we have to fight other tribes. We may have a large military, but there's only so much border and territory we can cover on our own. The empire has grown quickly and continues to do so." Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, waiting patiently for what she hopes will be good news. So much for not letting my emotions get involved..

"Fine." Eren smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed his hands on her hips, leaning in slowly to kiss the lips he's admittedly been eying since she walked in. But the door suddenly opened, and they rushed to pull away as one of his men stuck his head in the room to deliver a message having unknowingly interrupted their first kiss. "What is it?" He hissed out of frustration because he was finally about to kiss her after bickering back and forth with palpable sexual tension for almost an hour. Mikasa bites her lip, clasping her hands together behind her back as she impatiently watches him speak with one of his men.

"Sir, our scouts have returned. They determined that the new nearby tribe isn't a threat."

"Yeah, okay, thank you." Eren was already moving to grab her by the waist as soon as the door closed with a mutually playful smirk. "So, like, do you always negotiate peace treaties with yourself? Or am I just lucky enough to be the first one?"

"Luck had nothing to with what's about to happen," Mikasa smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer until their lips were almost touching. "I want you so badly.." She whispered, letting out the softest moan when he finally kissed her, a moment so magnetic, so magical that it truly seemed as if they were the only two people in the world and nothing else mattered but them. The encounter left them both feeling dizzy and that lingered long after he pulled away, her nose slowly rubbing alongside his.

"Maybe we should find somewhere more private?" He breathed to her smile and smirked when she backed away enough for him to see her biting her lip, and he was more than happy to drag her by the hand out the back door so his people don't see them leaving together for the chieftain's private living quarters. Their hearts were already racing once they got on the other side of the door and the tension had reached a new high as she started removing her armor to reveal basic cold weather clothing; several tunics, wool leggings and socks with her tall leather boots. Mikasa chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist with a smirk and pulled her into his solid form, sliding her hands along his fur cape to lift it over his head, tossing it on the floor. She crashed her lips against his and jumped up to capture his waist with her legs as they slowly wandered to his bed together, exchanging frantic kisses and carefully laying her on her back. Large hands slide beneath multiple, wool tunics and she was disappointed when their lips had momentarily parted so he could tug them over her head, revealing an insanely slim and beautifully toned body that he was already very drawn to.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

"Thank you.." She blushed as he grabbed onto one of her legs, smiling and watching her eyes while he pulls off her boots, then leggings and socks. Mikasa sat up on the edge of the bed as she reached for his layers of warm tunics and slid them up his body with her hands, which encouraged him to remove them and toss the bundle aside. Her cheeks immediately grew red at the best set of abs she's ever seen as he reached behind her back to loosen her corset until she was able to remove it still in shock - slim, slender, absolutely ripped. "Wow, and you say my body is incredible?"

"That's because it is. At the risk of sounding crass, I've been with quite a few women, and you're just top notch gorgeous. And a tough as hell. Which is even hotter."

"Were any of them good at giving head?" Mikasa grinned as she placed a gentle hand on his bulge and slowly slid it up to tuck her fingers behind his wool pants and sheepskin underpants. "Because I've been told I do.." He smirked as she dropped everything to his ankles and proceeded to gently curve her fingers around the thickness, her tongue lapping at the tiny amount of goo oozing from the sensitive tip. With a low groan he carefully gathered her hair away from her face and watched as she opened her mouth, leaning in slowly to control how quickly she swallows his long length, nuzzling her nose at the base in soft brown hair.

"Fuck, you are good..." Eren chuckled with a simultaneous moan as she gently pulled back with her cheeks sucked in, just enough to add her hand back into the mix so she can stroke with gentle twists of his shaft. She suddenly picked up her pace as she stroked and sucked him in tandem, making his hips jerk with his slightly louder groans and moans. But she was prepared and swallowed his length eagerly once more, content with him slowly pumping into her mouth. "You are literally the perfect girl, holy shit -" He paused when she moaned softly around him and slowly released his length from her mouth with an audible pop, biting her lower lip as she lay back on his bed so he can climb on top. "I realize now what I said just came across that you're only the perfect girl because you give amazing head, but I didn't mean for it to." She giggled just loud enough for him to hear as he began to tug down on her underpants, his eyes watching hers for any sign of hesitation only to find nothing but pure lust.

"You were fine, but thank you anyway.."

"Of course," Eren smirked as he leaned in to kiss her and tossed her underpants aside, their lips only parting so his can wander agonizingly slow down her body. "Now, where were we?" She grinned, blushing furiously as her hips are hoisted up over his shoulders so he can drag his tongue along her glistening slit and she grasped onto both of her breasts, watched him munch away at her sweet spot from above while her body dangles off of his.

"Erenn...." She squeezed her breasts as he stretched his arm down to touch one of her breasts, surrendering control over how hard he squeezes to her. His lips sealed around her clit, suckling in just the right way that caused an almost immediate climax and inspired him to playfully pop his hand on her ass, making Mikasa giggled as squeals with delight, struggling endlessly not to grind against his mouth because he's holding her so tight. "Ohh! Please, please!" She pleaded through her helpless moans and blushed a shade darker when he opened his eyes to hers, slowly pulling his lips off to plant a kiss over the pink skin. He smiled as he carefully lay her down on the bed and leaned in to kiss her, his hand wandering down so he position himself at her entrance. They both moaned into their increasingly passionate smooch as he carefully slipped deep inside the heat, lingering here to let her body get used to him being in there. Suddenly, he was thrusting into her so quickly, that it forced her to tear her lips away, watching his eyes as he absolutely railed her. "Eren! Eren! Eren!" With a most pleasurable cry she clawed at his back, letting out the occasional whimper amidst her helpless moans. And the sight of her clearly feeling satisfied made him smirk, something that she's certain will always make her heart skip a beat. "What?"

"Nothing, you're just ridiculously sexy," He paused when her eyes rolled back in pure bliss and she came hard, slowing his thrusts significantly since he's not quite ready to finish yet. "Seriously, I knew I had to have you as soon as you walked in." Those beautiful eyes opened to his and he offered a heartwarming grin as he leaned in to kiss her once more, thrusting into her deep and slow. She sighed into his mouth, reciprocating his thrusts as she pulled her lips away with a moan and giggled softly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to touch the prominent dimples she's already loves.

"You look nothing like what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"You're ridiculously hot.." She grinned as he suddenly took off and slammed into her, his smirk making her belly burn with desire as he stops again, sliding his hands beneath her back to encourage her to roll onto her stomach and she did so slowly, giggling small giggles as he gently pulls her up on all fours by the hips.

"I am?" Eren whispered in her ear as she eagerly spreads her legs for him, his cock still nestled deeply inside. "I'm ridiculously hot?"

"The only other cheif I've met wasn't even close to being attractive. But you are just..." Mikasa grinned when she felt his hands warm hands curve around her slender hips, his kisses slow on her spine and a smirk evident against her skin. "...the complete opposite."

"Last thing I expected when I woke up this morning was a sexy warrior princess to shiw up.” His husky voice whispered to her as he kissed up her back, making the entirety of her fair skin blush a light shade of pink. She moaned at the sound if his voice and pushed herself back against him, making her moan in such a way that he couldn't help but do the same.

"I should have guessed someone as stubborn as you would be a tease.." She purred immediate, pleasurable sounds when he took off and thrusted into her so quickly that neither  could think a coherent thought. She slowly slid her arms out until she could rest the side of her face on a pillow, clawing at the sheets and moaning loud whimpers. "Eren! Eren! Eren!"

"Mikasa.." He whispers breathlessly in her ear as she moaned through her climax, slowly pulling her hips back into his and pushing them forward. "I'll help protect your borders if you let me see you again. I assume you're like most princesses and are already engaged or married to another man, but to be honest, I really don't fucking care."

"I don't either, my fiancé is already cheating on me anyway. He even has a kid with her. Wait, you know I'm engaged to someone else, yet you still want to see me again?"

"I'm sorry," Eren's voice was genuine, soft and husky in her ear. "He sounds like an ass. Why are you so surprised that I want to see you again?"

"I didn't think you felt anything between - ah! aha! ah!" She squealed with delight when he suddenly took off and absolutely drilled into her and she loved it. "Oohhh!" Her hips started to tremble and she whimpered pleasurably, white knuckling the sheets as she bounces her hips back against his.

"I can't get enough of you already! Fuck! You're like a drug!" He moaned with her as he dug his fingers into her hips and guided her faster, sending his lover into an equally euphoric state. "I'm gonna cum!" In one swift movement he quickly pulled out at the perfect time and exploded all over her back with countless groans, hisses, and low moans. Eren held onto her tightly as they collapsed together on their sides and made her the little spoon, both hearts thumping hard against their rib cages. She sighed happily and yawned as she reached her hand up to push her damp hair back, already feeling sleepy from the most incredible sex she's ever had. “Damn, you’re incredible.”

"Mmm," Mikasa hummed with a smile and stretched back against him as he kissed any skin he could readily reach. "We need to figure out how to sneak you into my bedchamber.." His embrace is warm and welcoming as they settle beneath the blankets, basking in the heat coming from the fireplace that's giving the now dark room an orange glow. It's safe to assume that an unspoken agreement has been made between the two and that at least this tribe will no longer be of concern, all thanks to the negotiations between a barbarian chieftain and a princess.

[acraftedmistake]

A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 3

Had a lot of fun writing this chapter! Hope you guys will like it too!

Jesse shuffled around awkwardly in a layer of new clothes over his usual outfit. He and Olivia ended up swapping a few accessories around as well; Jesse was wearing Olivia’s hat, Aiden gave his leather jacket to Olivia, which was so big on her that it completely consumed her hands. Aiden suggested that Rose should give up her large hoodie for Jesse, but she refused, saying that would be “awkward and weird”, so instead she gave him her extra set of pants--as if that were somehow less weird--revealing a pair of shorts underneath and long socks that stopped an inch before meeting her knees.

Olivia undid her pigtails and ruffled her hair around, giving it a messier look, allowing it to hide her eyes but also limit her vision. Rose and Aiden were guiding the duo out of the shrine and back to their town. When they had left the hallway where their first encounter was, Jesse wasn’t expecting the shrine to be so... Complex. So many twist and turns, old traps, big walls with more strange carvings in them, Jesse swore they had passed at least twenty rooms, some with doors completely broken down, yet Aiden just kept saying “Turn left, right, left...” as if it were second nature.

Olivia just kept her eyes on the ground, trying to pay attention to where she was walking, not wanting to bump into any walls. Rose was also behind the two, and though she hadn’t said a word yet, Jesse could feel her eyes on the back of his head like daggers. It was already clear that she wasn’t too fond of him for whatever reason, and though he wanted to know why, Jesse decided to wait till they got back to whatever town they were heading to.

No one really said anything to each other, only Aiden’s direction helped keep the atmosphere from becoming excruciatingly awkward as they continued to walk through what seemed to be the remains of a library, at least, that’s what Jesse believed it was. This room was the smallest but the messiest out of everything else they’ve seen so far; there were only 4 bookshelves, but most were broken into hundreds of pieces or had huge, black markings from--possibly--a fire. Books were sprawled about the floor, which Jesse found himself tripping over occasionally. Most books were opened widely, pages torn and spines ruined, some were reduced to piles of ashes. There were two desks with a thick layer of dust and blotches of old, dried ink staining their tops and the walls and floors around them that decorated the flats of the ancient desks. Was there a fight here? Or did someone attempt to get rid of something?

“Okay, we’re almost out of here.” Jesse snapped his attention back to Aiden, who was looking ahead at the busted wooden door ahead. “Just one more room and we’re out of here.”

“You said the place was heavily guarded, right?” Olivia questioned, barely looking up from the floor. Aiden nodded, not that Olivia could see it.

Rose spoke up, “Yep. Recently there have been threats to activate the portals that were made hundreds of years ago, everyone thought it was just some stupid rumor but...” she glared back at Jesse again, “Turns out they weren’t joking around.”

“Won’t the guards notice you’re missing some clothes?” Jesse asked, looking back at Aiden, “Nah, it’s almost dark out, plus the guards were paying more attention to who was coming in and out, not what they were wearing.” Aiden grabbed the doorknob and jiggled it. Nothing. He proceeded to turn the knob with more force and pushed against the door, grunting, “This stupid door is the only one that gets jammed!” he swiftly kicked the bottom before it swung open, a chunk of wood flying out and hitting the wall with a loud “CRACK”.

“This place is so old, I’m surprised half of the things in here haven’t rotted away already.” Rose commented.

“So what’s this a shrine of exactly? Who made it?” Jesse asked as he follow Aiden,

“Are you telling me that YOU of all people don’t know where we’re at?” Rose’s question drenched in sarcasm.

“How the heck am I supposed to know about a place I’ve never been to before?” Jesse shot back with an attitude while entering a much larger room than the little library they in before; what seemed like well over a hundred chairs were placed in large circles, facing the very center of the room, which was stained with an unknown, rusty colored substance, but besides that, the room was lacking color, only consisting of hues of grays and dusty blues. There was a huge wall near the door they just came through, which had the largest and probably the most identifiable carving he had seen throughout the entire shrine.

It was the head of a man.

He was looking down upon the many chairs that sat before him, but due to his lack of pupils, it felt as if he was watching over the whole room. Stalking the group’s every move. Jesse could feel the man’s presence.

“Who’s the-Who’s that?” Jesse pointed at the wall as he adjusted the hat on his head, Olivia moved the hair out of her face to look at the carving, she shuddered, “Dunno, but whoever made this really captured this person’s... Eyes.”

Jesse hadn’t noticed it right away due to how dim the area was, but upon closer inspection, all the man really had were his empty eyes. Sure, there were his eyebrows and he did have hair, but that really didn’t contribute much. Jesse was about to ask again, in case either Aiden or Rose hadn’t catch his question, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose whispering something into her friend’s ear a good several feet away, all while eyeing Jesse suspiciously. Aiden stepped away and shook his head, simply saying “No, he couldn’t; let’s just wait until we get back home.”

Rose quickly put a finger over her mouth, “Not so loud!” she mouthed, immediately sneaking a peek at Jesse, who, along with Olivia, were watching them.

Rolling his eyes in a more playful manner towards his friend, Aiden waved both Olivia and Jesse to come over.

“So here’s the plan,” Aiden began,

“There are a ton of guards out there, if you decide to walk out right now, you’d be immediately taken to jail and bombarded with questions and , since it’s prohibited to go here-”

“Wait--then why are you guys in here?” Olivia interrupted.

“Because we were asked to inspect the place. Anyways--when we go out there, don’t say a word, just play along, got it?” Aiden awaited for their response. The two thought for a moment, but soon nodded in unison.

“Alright, let’s go.” Aiden lead the way, carefully maneuvering around the chairs, the three following behind as their footsteps all mixed together in the echo of the abandoned building. Stopping in front of a big, round top wooden double doors, bits of the old dark mahogany wood were chipped away with age, it’s surface was rugged and appeared to have scratch marks that blended in with the woods’ cracks.

Aiden, without warning, grabbed Jesse’s hand and promptly held them behind his back with a bit of force, squeezing Jesse’s wrists tightly. “Hey!”  before Jesse could continue, Aiden shushed him, “Just look down and don’t say anything, no matter what, okay?”

Jesse watched as Rose did the same to Olivia, who wore a confused, unprepared, and worried expression; hesitantly, Jesse just nodded and turned his head to the floor, but tried his best to keep his friend in his field of view. Aiden, while holding Jesse’s arms together with one hand, used his free hand to swing open the door. An old, crumbling stone pathway, broken into chunks as grass grew from the cracks swayed gently from the light breeze, helping Jesse feel a little reassured; the world they’ve entered wasn’t a wasteland, there was life; this wasn’t some bizarre robot controlled city or zombie infested area, it almost gave off an odd sense of nostalgia.

“Ah, Aiden,” Jesse heard a deep voice say, “Good to see you came out in one piece, you were takin’ quite a while! We were about to send someone after you two!”

“You know us; we can handle ourselves.” Aiden chuckled as the sound of even more footsteps came near, a sudden burst of chatter filled the air, questions being asked left and right,

“Who are these people?” a gruff voice asked, “We didn’t see no one enter!” another said in a panicked manner, “I swear, we were all standing here, watchin’ like hawks!”

“Don’t worry,” Aiden began, looking at the small crowd of guards, “Apparently these kids found a hole in one of the walls and snuck their way in. They don’t seem to be apart of The Hero’s Awakening, just some trouble makers. We’ll just bring them back to Obsidian town, do a bit of questioning, and send them off.”

“Why don’t you go find that hole or any noticeable cracks? We wouldn’t want anyone ELSE sneaking in, would we?” Rose suggested in a somewhat condescending tone, the guards jumped.

“Oh yes, yes, on it!” one of the guards soluted as the group began to march off, their metal, ash colored boots clanking each time it hit the ground as their steel chestplate and shoulder pads, which were tightly tied around their torso, quietly clinked. Their tight, dark green pants and long sleeved, moss colored shirt helped them blend into the forest surroundings as they slowly left Aiden’s sight. Him and Rose began walking forward, occasionally looking behind them to make, making sure no one was watching or following them.

After a minute of complete silence, Jesse asked “Are we clear?”

“Yep.” Aiden responded.

“That’s great. Could you... Let go of my arms, please, they’re starting to hurt.”

“Oh, sorry.” Aiden instantly set Jesse’s hands free, unaware of how hard he had been squeezing them together. Jesse rubbed his sore wrists and looked up to finally observe wherever the heck they were.

They were standing in the middle of a luscious field of grass, small, bright flowers, ranging from hues of yellow, sky blue, and bits of red stood out on the field like blobs of paint on a canvas. The land itself wasn’t completely flat either; noticeably long grass blades would break up the horizon, their tips touching the sky as they’d sway carefully. The forest surrounding the shrine seemed to be in some sort of large “U” shape that must’ve stretched out for a good mile if Jesse had to guess. The sun’s set was blocked off by the thick trees, which only allowed thin rays of light to pass through, but the sky itself was a wonderful combination of pinks and oranges. There was a path of dirt, most likely from people constantly walking over the patches of grass for so long, that seemed to go in a straight--slightly crooked--line; and in the distance, there was an oddly shaped, lumpy structure, which Jesse assumed was the town Aiden had mentioned.

“Are we done enjoying the scenery? We need to get going.” Rose said as she let go of Olivia, walking ahead of the three. Aiden shook his head and walked beside her, motioning both Jesse and Olivia to follow behind, “The town’s not too far from here, if you need to stop at any point, just let us know.”

“I’d keep walking.” Rose commented, not looking away from the town’s general direction, Aiden rolled his eyes with a grin on his face. He spun around and, while walking backwards, told Jesse and Olivia “Make sure to keep those clothes on you until we get to our place; I don’t mind if you stain my jacket or anything, juuust don’t lose it, got it?”

“Got it.” Jesse’s head bobbed as he got to Olivia’s side, the two of them began talking, following behind Aiden and Rose a good several feet away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Do you have any idea what’s going on through Aiden’s head?” Olivia asked as she folded her arms, trying to adjust the oversized leather jacket on her, “I know it’s been a while since we had our little ‘playdates’ with him but what happened at that shrine? That was... bizarre.”

Jesse stroked his chin, trying to think of any possible answer for what took place not even an hour ago, everything happened so suddenly, it almost felt like a dream. It was obvious Aiden, and his friend weren’t too happy thrilled to run into Jesse, so it seems like their relationship hasn’t changed too much; even while Aiden spoke to him in a kind manner, he held his hands tightly and didn’t even return his sword, as if they were expecting him to run away or suddenly attack. Jesse rubbed his wrists again when reminded of Aiden’s grip.

However, there was another odd thing Aiden had done that was eating Jesse up inside, and he knew Olivia felt the same.

Leaning close, not wanting Rose nor Aiden to hear them, he spoke to Olivia in a low voice, “Speaking of bizarre... How bout the way those two reacted when they saw you?”

“Yeah! I was just about to bring that up! He just got all weird and far too touchy- and-”

“They were acting like you died or something.” Jesse said in a somewhat blunt and concerned way. Olivia gulped “Uhm, yeah, I was trying to... Avoid that word.” she twirled a strand of her thick, black hair with her finger while she brought her eyes to the ground.

Jesse felt a bit of red creep up on his face, “Sorry.” he quickly apologized while he scratched the back of his head nervously.

“No, it’s okay. It needed to be said,” Olivia let out a sigh, “But that’s not what we should be worrying about. We should find out how to reactivate the portal.”

“Right, there’s gotta be an answer somewhere!” Jesse gave her a big smile, but she continued to wear an anxious and lost expression. Carefully placing his hand on her shoulder, “We’ll get out of this together, I promise.”

Shifting her head up and bringing her eyes to Jesse’s, she smiled weakly, “Thanks, Jesse.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I’m almost 90% sure he as amnesia,” Rose began as she reached into her hoodie’s pocket, pulling out black, thick framed glasses and swiftly putting them on. “He doesn’t have amnesia, Rose.” Aiden replied, furrowing his brow.

“Oh really? Then would YOU like to explain how Jesse has little to no memory of this place? About US? Maybe he hit his head too hard last week...”

“He remembers our names-” before Aiden could continue, Rose immediately butt in, “YOUR name. He remembers YOUR name. And he seemed pretty surprised when he saw you.”

“Well he just... Didn’t expect to see us at the shrine.” Aiden felt an odd sense of anger build up, though he couldn’t necessarily pinpoint why he was getting angry, which bothered him even more. He began walking faster, Rose sped up and continued talking, “A shrine that he knew absolutely nothing about. And this is Jesse we’re talking about. He knew this place like the back of his hand. If he doesn’t have amnesia then he’s definitely planning something terrible. For pete’s sake, Olivia is here! That’s a serious red flag.”

“That’s why we’re going back to the others so we can find out more.”

“I hate being ‘that person’, but I think they’ll be siding with me. First, Jesse got hurt pretty badly, he was unconscious for about a day, then he doesn’t say a WORD to us for another two days and now,” she quickly turned and looked at Jesse before turning back to Aiden, whisper shouting, “He barely knows anything!”

“I get what you’re saying, but right now we can’t be certain. Let’s just wait. Please.” Aiden ended sternly. Rose raised her eyebrows, unamused, then huffed “Fine.”

[thegreyreylo]

Just Breathe - Chapter 7

RATING: MATURE

Sample: 

I can’t believe I actually just asked her to train with me.

 How many times had I asked her at this point? To allow me to help mold her? How many times had she told me no in one way or another? I was truly dense to ask her after she had bravely told me about her conflict with me and agreed to try to curb her anger. I deserved no part of this girl.

 “Sure, Ben.” The smile she gave me was brighter than any star I had ever seen.

I had never slept so well in my life.

 Sharing a bed with a tiny, freezing, snoring girl who became a total bed hog from the moment she fell asleep was easily the best sleep of my life. She had elbowed me and drooled on me and snored loudly in my ear but it was perfection. Her face was completely smooth in her sleep, void of all the stress and worry that constantly seemed to plague her forehead in the form of a tiny crinkle between her eye brows. Her dark lashes cast the longest shadows across her delicate cheekbones and contrasted harshly with her fading tan. But nothing could trump the beauty of her flushed pink lips, slightly parted, that I wanted nothing more than to kiss again.

 To kiss her awake the moment that she fell asleep in return for her gracing me with her presence. To kiss her so she knew how much she meant to me. To kiss her to show her how frustrated I was with her and her refusal to be by myself. To kiss her to let her know that she would never be alone again.

 But that wouldn’t be fair to her; she needed to want it.

 In the early hours I had woken up to the sound of what I assume is porgs squawking at one another. She was still fast asleep, face pressed in to my shoulder and fingers laced with my own.

 There is no way I’m waking her up.

 Readjusting slightly, I focused on the pressure that her small body had against my own and tried to desperately rein in the desire to do more than sleep. Somehow, I must’ve fallen asleep again.

    The light was streaming in at full force at this point in the morning through the small gaps in the rock structure of this little hut. Immediately everything felt wrong. It felt like waking up every other day.

 I was alone in this empty cot, with my cloak carefully tucked around me and an absurd amount of space to myself.

 “Rey?”

 Glancing around the hut I could see her cot looking just as vacant and dusty as the rest of this aged space. Sitting up hastily, I stumbled over myself trying to get to my feet and to the wretched door. Yanking it open, I ignored the bitter cold of this desolate planet of green as I surveyed the area. “Rey?” I tried again, a little louder this time. She wasn’t in the microscopic stone village upon first glance and but on my third call out I noticed smoke rising from behind one of the huts.

 Snagging my tunic from next to the cot and boots, I tugged on the shoes and jogged towards the smoke while trying to yank on my shirt. I came up behind her, sitting cross legged in the midst of thousands of scattered rocks and a peculiar aquatic animal being pit roasted over a cooking fire. Rey must’ve heard me, because she glanced over her shoulder and shot me a smile that made my knees buckle.

 “Where is the fire?”

  Ben looked like a hot mess.

 His hair was truly was disorderly at the kindest description, his shirt was crinkled and not properly tucked and one shoe was untied. His eyes had this mildly wild expression that I hadn’t seen since we were back at in Snoke’s thrown room. Breathing heavily, he dropped next to me and huffed in response to my prodding while carefully folding his impressively long limbs to match my own. I would argue that I spotted an eye roll as well. A hot mess, but hot none the less.

 The fact that I just thought that brought a burning blush to my cheeks.

 We sat in silence for a moment before he spoke in a very even and controlled tone, “Did you sleep well?”

 The burn I felt in my cheeks rivaled the heat coming off the roaring fire in front of me. Using the force, I rotated the fish and looked straight ahead. “I slept quite well,” and added after hard gulp, “and you?”

 In fact, sleeping in Ben’s arms had been the most comfortable sleep I had ever had. I spent the vast majority of my life sleeping alone on rusty pop up cots or shredded seat cushions I had collected from ship remains. It was always cold. But pressed up against one of the largest humans I had ever met was nothing like the cold. His warmth was simply everywhere that I could reach and then some. Nothing could trump the sensation of his hands on my body though. One laced carefully through my own as he subconsciously rubbed a small soothing circle against the back of my hand and the other reflexively wrapping its digits around the small of my waist with such tender precision.

 The weight of him was the most comforting feeling in the world.

 Ben seemed to be waiting for me to make eye contact with him before speaking. Chewing my lip, I turned and tried to keep a neutral expression. He raised an eye brow, but spoke calmly with a smoldering look, “Last night was incredible.”

 The blush burned its way to my cheeks.

 The words tumbled out my mouth in a fumbling rushing, “Oh, that’s great and you know you slept away most of the morning and I got up at dawn and went fishing by the cliffs after my training session before building this fire. It’ll probably take a good hour or so to finish cooking and I need to return to the Millennium Falcon and check in with the Resistance because I said I would contact them every morning for a status update in case they needed my help because I can help them even if I’m not with them. Do you need to go to your own ship? I can’t imagine you don’t have things you need to do in the First Order since you are probably the one in charge at this point-“

 “Yes, I do need to check in.” Interrupting me with a completely surprised expression and tiny smile on his face. It looked like he was possibly even trying to not smile at me and I suddenly registered how close he was to my own body.

 “Great! Let’s go.” Popping up, I was on my feet with staff in hand and striding out of the camp in an instant when all of a sudden I was stopping in my tracks as I felt his hand close gently around my elbow.

 Turning to face him, still on fire from the awkwardness of the situation he spoke quietly, “Can you wait for me? I would like to properly dress before I send in the orders for the day.” I couldn’t breathe for a moment; his face was composed but open for once. Ben wasn’t hiding from me anymore.

 I could only nod, in which he carefully spoke, “Thank you, one moment.”

 He vanished behind Luke’s hut in a few strides and I could breathe again.

 I need to settle down.

 One moment, I wanted nothing more than to be on this planet with Ben and the next I can’t even bring myself to sit next to him without wanting to run. I kept running to him and running away from him. For a man who struggled with clearly expressing himself and had a short fuse from my understanding, this couldn’t be easy for him. I have no idea the amount of self-control he is practicing aright now, or even why he is. Actually, I probably can guess why – I stopped that thought in its track.

 Fiddling with my staff, I impatiently spun it while trying to settle my own irrational nervousness.

 He appeared after a few minutes looking far more put together. Arm wraps on straight, tunic lying flat, boots actually tied and his hair straightened somewhat to the point where he was presentable. Still broody and intimidating from a distance, but as he closed the gap between the two of us and I noticed that he hadn’t bothered to grab his light saber. My heart thudded as my head tried to desperately process what that meant to me.

 He trusted me.

 “Are you ready to-“

 Instincts ceased me and all of a sudden I was wrapping my arms around his waist and burrowing my face in to his chest. Ben froze for a moment, but all of a sudden I felt his arms wrap carefully around me with one gripping my shoulder and the other at my waist. “Rey?” He asked, confusion dripping into his tone.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “I’m confused.”

 “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this –“, He pulled me slightly away from his body while keeping a hand at the small of my back and using the other to try to guide my face so he could look at me, “because I don’t how to do this. I’m so used to just moving on like nothing is wrong, but I’m mad at you. I’m also, well, a lot of other things but I don’t know how to talk to you. Be with you. I’m used to pulling everything together after chaos, but it just doesn’t feel fair to act like nothing is wrong.”

 Ben’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he spoke, “I understand, but how about we just discuss our disagreements later? I’m not going to let you be alone because you aren’t ready to talk about this.”

 I chewed that over in my mind for a moment. Maybe I could just enjoy not being alone for a moment, I didn’t have to discuss how upset I was with him yet. We both needed time to think things over, maybe? Maybe he would change his mind? Maybe I’m a fool for thinking anything will change? Sighing, I carefully returned to hugging him for a moment before untangling myself.

 “Ok.”

 “Ok?”

 “Ok.”

 He breathed deeply and gave me a genuine smile before carefully brushing my hair out of my face. “Lead the way then, Princess.”

 Now I rolled my eyes, “I’m not in a dress.” I began to head towards the staircase towards the beach, thinking he would fall in behind, but he kept pace with me despite my usual speed.

 “Doesn’t matter.”

 Scoffing, “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

 He grinned again, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t see yourself clearly.”

 Snapping my head around, I elbowed him and snarked, “What does that mean?”

 “Doesn’t matter.” Oh clearly I wasn’t getting anywhere on this front. Clamping my mouth shut, I skipped down a couple steps to get me ahead of his ego but he kept up again.

 “Would you like to train after we finish with the ships and eating?”

 Shocked, I glanced over my shoulder and noticed he had a nervous look on his face by the way he lightly chewed his bottom lip and tried to look casual.

  I can’t believe I actually just asked her to train with me. It was impulsive and stupid. 

 How many times had I asked her at this point? To allow me to help mold her? How many times had she told me no in one way or another? I was truly dense to ask her after she had bravely told me about her conflict with me and agreed to try to curb her anger. I deserved no part of this girl.

 “Sure, Ben.” The smile she gave me was brighter than any star I had ever seen.

 Smiling back felt wrong, like it was being smug, but I couldn’t help it. While we casually remarked on the Porgs who seemed hell bent to get stomped on (“I’m fairly certain the little one is trying to get maimed”), it was far faster going down these stairs then up and we reached the beach quickly.

 “I’ll meet you back at the fire when I’m done, Ben!” Cheerfully, before running head long up to the Millennium Falcon.

 While the sight of that wretched ship brought a wave of raw emotions to the surface, the sight of Rey was so much more powerful. She was a spark of light, constantly, even against the darkest backdrop.

 The moment I walked aboard my own ship, my mood began to deflate in large increments. It took several moments for the mundane lieutenant to inform me of the lack of progress the First Order has made on finding the Resistance and ask for new orders. By the end, I was in no mood to deal with idiotic clones when I had Rey as an option for company. General Hux had made virtually no real leads and seemed to avoiding reporting me. Normally this would be an excellent excuse to destroy the imp but today I had plans that I was keen to attend to. I handed off general orders and stalked off the ship as quickly as possible.

 Going up the staircase alone stoked the fire of annoyance in my mood and I was practically morbid by the time I reached the cooking pit. Rey must still be at the Millennium Falcon, so instead I inspected the sea creature. Speared through one of it’s eight eyes, I had no idea what the three tailed could be or if it was even edible. How Rey had caught it was unknown to me and how she knew what it could possibly be was even bigger mystery.

 I became antsy, where was she? She couldn’t have left the island, right? She wouldn’t leave?

 Carefully, I reached out through the bond and was practically startled when I felt her reaching right back.

 Ben? I’m on my way back up, sorry for taking a moment – hey, what are you doing?

 Fuck.

 Just checking in.

 I’ll be back in just a moment, on the last stair case now.

 Breathing was suddenly easier, she would be here in a moment and it was like a weight had been lifted. My shoulder’s relaxed and I picked a spot in the sand where I could see her come over the hill. She had to be taking the stairs two at a time, because she emerged over the hill a moment later and jogged in to view. Rey radiated light.

 “Ready to eat?”

 “What the hell is this thing?”

[salroka]

Melly Shortwick: Family Exile, Skilled Thief, Useless Lesbian

note: Contains minor spoilers for the beginning of the Rise of the Runelords campaign. This is the backstory I wrote for my current Pathfinder character. I came into the game a few sessions late, so my DM and I decided that a good plot reason for me to be at the first dungeon was a previous relationship with Ameiko Kaijitsu, whom our party went in to rescue.

Melly Shortwick was born in Korvosa to a clan of halfling candle makers. Her family was never wealthy, but they lived comfortably as one of the largest candle makers in the city. Melly was a good apprentice in her youth, but like many young halflings, she longed to see the world.

Known amongst her kin for her quiet footfalls and ability to disappear in the shadows, her parents affectionately called her their little sneak-thief, especially when she got caught playing with a toy she'd stolen from one of her five siblings. Melly has three sisters and two brothers, of which she is the third born. Her favorite pastimes as a child were exploring the city and playing pranks on rival merchant families. She also enjoyed watching the ships in the harbor. Some of her cousins sailed ships for Shortwick Candle Company and she longed to take a voyage on one of them someday even though she was destined to work in the main shop when she came of age.

One fateful day in early summer, about ten years ago, when Melly was twenty-five, barely of age as far as halflings go, a wealthy nobleman  shortchanged the Shortwicks on a massive order that would have set them up for several months until the days got shorter and their sales picked up again. Without that order, they could lose several of their auxiliary shops and would need to majorly downsize their main location and as a result, half of their family would be out of a job.

The nobleman promptly bribed the magistrates, so the courts were of no help. Thus, Melly decided to take matters into her own hands and planned to sneak into the nobleman's estate to steal the money they were owed. This was her first heist. It went poorly. The estate was under heavy guard and she barely escaped. She fled back to her family's flat above their main shop, but before long the city guard came knocking. Her parents lied convincingly and said they hadn't seen her, but after the guards left, Mr. and Mrs. Shortwick were very disappointed in Melly's impulsiveness and informed her that she needed to leave town to save both herself and her family's reputation. Melly's mother assured her that they would be fine. At dawn the next morning, Melly was aboard one of her family's merchant vessels, just like she had always wanted, but she never thought this would be how she'd see the world.

Since that night, Melly has traveled all over Varisia and occasionally outside it. She has been to every major city multiple times and seen sights beyond her wildest dreams. In the years to come, Melly returned to Korvosa a handful of times, but never went anywhere near the market district or her family's properties. She heard through her contacts in the Cerulean Society that despite their best efforts, the Shortwicks were barely making enough to keep their doors open. Blaming herself in part for her family's downfall, she is still too ashamed to face anyone associated with them.

In the meantime, she is making a fairly lucrative living adventuring and doing odd jobs, specializing in stealing back stolen goods and coin from jerkass rich guys and usually stealing a little something extra and keeping it for herself or to sell. Because of this, she doesn't generally charge a fee for her services unless the job is particularly difficult. She's gotten pretty good at it, a far cry from her frankly feeble first attempt, and word of her has gotten around, so she is never wanting for work.

Melly has met a lot of people in her travels, and while she generally prefers to watch and listen, she's made some steadfast friends, as well as a few equally resolute enemies. One such friend is Ameiko Kaijitsu, whereas her father Lonjiku became one of her enemies.

Melly met Ameiko just after she had robbed the Kaijitsu estate on behalf of some human Lonjiku had fucked over. A couple days after she had gotten the job done, Ameiko approached her in the inn where Melly was staying.

“I hear you're the one who broke into my family's estate,” she said, not bothering with an introduction. “Nice job.”

“Where'd you hear that?” Melly said, refusing show the slight concern she felt at being found out.

“Your friend over there gets real chatty a couple pints in,” Ameiko smirked, pointing over her shoulder to the man who had hired her.

“What are you gonna do about it? I left no trace. You have no proof but the word of a drunk blacksmith.”

“Nothing. Except ask to join you.”

“What?” At this point, Melly couldn't hide how thoroughly she was taken aback.

“I've been wanting to get out of this town for a while now. You might just be my ticket out of this place.”

“Why would I want some spoiled rich brat tagging along with me?”

“While it's true I've never adventured before, I'm a fast learner. Also, a stranger sitting in a tavern with a companion is far less suspicious than they are by themselves.”

Melly snorted. “Sorry, princess, the answer is still no.”

Melly went on her way the next day, but when she stopped to make camp, she heard the telltale rustling in the bushes.

“I know you're there,” Melly told the bush. “You're not great at stealth, princess.”

“My name is Ameiko,” the figure emerging from the bush said indignantly.

“I know your name,” Melly replied. “And I thought I told you not to follow me.”

“I wasn't following you.” said Ameiko. “I left Sandpoint of my own volition and just happened to think this looked like a good spot to camp.”

“Sure you did.” Despite herself, Melly was highly amused. “Look, p-...Ameiko. You can follow me if you want, but know that I'm used to working alone. If you get yourself into trouble, you'll have to get yourself out. I'm not gonna be able to protect you. And there are some things I'm gonna have to do alone.”

“I think I can handle myself,” said Ameiko. “Don't worry about me.”

Over the months that followed, Ameiko's stealth and skill with a blade improved exponentially and Melly grew to care for her immensely. Ameiko was a smart, capable young woman and Melly had absolutely underestimated her when they first met. “Princess” became more of a teasing nickname than a derisive epithet, reserved for those moments when Ameiko truly betrayed her privileged upbringing.

As they grew closer as friends and partners, Melly's feelings for Ameiko grew into something entirely different from friendship. Though they had shared the same bed on multiple occasions, for the mere comfort of it as often as for necessity's sake, whether Ameiko returned Melly's affections was never clear. Melly still wasn't sure where they stood after they parted ways when Ameiko received the letter informing her of her mother's death.

Melly returned to traveling alone, taking jobs, occasionally picking up a companion or two. She returned to Sandpoint once a year or so, and she and Ameiko would take a trip somewhere, but it was never more than a few days before Ameiko had to return to her tavern.

This time, though, something was off. Melly had barely been at the Rusty Dragon a few hours before Ameiko said she had to find her brother at the glassworks and that she'd be back soon. And when she didn't come back, Melly took it upon herself to find her friend...

[yyhwritingrequests]

I'm so sorryy about that!!!!! Can I have smth a little strange pleasee??? Like maybe a cheater!KuramaxHiei thing? Or maybe like the same thing but with Yusukexcheater!Keiko? I want a lot of angst in it, too!! Thank you so much!!!!!! I'm sorry again!!! My b!!!!! ~Anonymous Z~

..You’re a bit eccentric, aren’t you, Anon? Anyway, sorry for taking like six months to complete this! Hope you enjoy! 

Note: My writing skills are a little rusty, and my thinking’s not all that in order, so if this seems a little sub-par for me, I do apologize!

~Admin Kiyoshi

Cheap Perfume

Winter had arrived in Japan, bringing with it the cold andsnow, the desolate void of white that would freeze one heart solid, whilesplintering and shattering another, the once gentle warmth of their love dyingin a blizzard of frigid betrayal and hate. It was there, in winter, where itwould be left, frosting over as the snowflakes slowly bury it under a crushingweight, heavy as the scent of a not-so-secret love affair lingering on pillowsand blankets shared by too many.

One soul, however, remained unaffected by the lethargy the seasonwas supposed to have carried with it. Through the long nights he remainedrestless, waiting up for a lover which more than one fleeting thought told himwasn’t going to come home. He always did, though — always returned home aftermidnight, always carrying with him a hint of a perfume that his partner bothdidn’t recognize, but came to know well as the scent of his love’s infidelity. Thesoul was torn; should he confront the other, his everything, and break his ownheart swiftly, or should he let it slowly fracture, hearing his other halfwhisper a name that isn’t his into the dead of the night?

One such night, he was nearly asleep, having given up on thethought that his partner would return before morning, when the bedroom dooropened. The smell of perfume wafted in after him, stronger than usual — mustnot have had time to shower before coming home — as he changed from his workclothes into the sweatpants he slept in, climbing into bed next to the loverwho no longer loved him in return. “How was your day?” He asked,conversationally, pulling the other close.

The soul gave a noncommittal grunt, turning away from thearms that held him, lips that tried to kiss him, hands that tried to wanderbeneath his belts, looking for the kind of satisfaction laying with that womanusually brought, satisfaction he didn’t know he could still give. Teeth scrapedthe back of his neck as the first buckle came undone — as he decided he’d hadenough.

Grabbing the offending hand with a surprising amount offorce, he threw it back away from himself. “Don’t touch me.” He’d wanted tosound angry, but the words were just too soft.

Equally softly did his lover call out to him, his heartsplintering in his chest as he pulled on his boots. No, he told himself, nomore falling for his tricks. Arms wrapped around his waist, a pair of warm,supple lips pressing against the side of his neck. “Where are you going? I’msorry I made you uncomfortable — we don’t have to have sex tonight, not if youdon’t want to,” The lips moved up to his cheek. “It’s cold outside; just stayhere…” A warm, bare chest met his back.

Jumping out the window was oneof the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

Morning found the wandering soul in a park—the largestcluster of trees he could find in the city he was bound to—half-curled into aball and radiating hurt and anger. The morning paid no mind to his plight—birdssang, people laughed, and the sun rose without a cloud in the sky to block itsradiant light, reflecting beautifully off the small pond in the park’s center.

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one hurting that morning,he found, hearing a couple begin to argue not too far away from him. The pairwere beginning to draw the attentions of other park-goers, having stood fromthe bench they’d been sitting on out of anger. Listening more closely, he caughta few select words that ripped his heart the rest of the way out of his chest. “Youcheated on me!” One of the men cried.

He moved a few trees closer to hear more of what was goingon. “You’ve been doing this for months!” The same man accused. “I foundeverything! The texts, the photos, all of it! I knew there was no way you were working so late!”

The man’s fiancé, however, was still trying to argue hiscase after the evidence had already convicted him. “No, I told you, I’ve beenworking overtime! I’d never cheat on you!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit! How do you explain thosemessages on your phone? Why would some ‘stranger’ have your phone number? Why’she asking you to ‘come have your way with him’, huh?!” Heartbroken, tears hadbegun to fall from the man’s eyes. “Was I not good enough for you?!”

The soul took a punch to the gut at that statement. Thinkingof his own lover’s trespasses, he understood that feeling of inadequacy — that therewas another who could give his partner all the things that he could not.

As the argument continued, hedidn’t pay any mind, lost within his own thoughts. Why didn’t you leave? If she meant more to you, why didn’t you justtell me that? Surely that would’ve been easier than lying to me all this time —then again, I suppose that’s in your nature, isn’t it, Fox? His headdropped into his hands. Maybe I should’veconfronted you, and watched you try to make up another pitiful excuse. …But Iwanted to believe that you were telling the truth…

The argument seemed to have endedby the time the lost soul looked towards the two men once more. The infidel hadlong since left in a storm of anger, upset that his lies had been revealed forall park-goers to witness.

Shaking his head as more tearsfell, the accuser took his engagement ring off, flinging it in the direction ofthe pond. It made a small splash as it hit the water, slowly sinking to thebottom as its owner left it, and the love it once represented, there to drown.

Watching the man leave, the soulcame to a realization, one that would’ve broken his heart if it hadn’t alreadybeen suffocated by cheap perfume.

Maybe I should’ve left you already.

He leapt from the tree, leavingthe park so quickly that the heartbroken man that’d left before him didn’tnotice him passing by.

To leave you, though, I have to leave everything else behind, too.

Behind an old Buddhist temple inthe middle of a forest filled with demons was where the human plane ended, and wherethe human plane ended, the demon plane began. Back to his home is where hewould flee to, back to where he was so wary of being deceived that he’d neverlet it happen again. Back to where love was both hard to find and overratedwhen found, so he’d never have to seek it out again.

Maybe I should’ve done this when I first suspected you, instead ofbelieving your lies.

Standing at the very edge of thehuman plane, he stared into the blank space that separated the worlds, wherethe barrier used to be that, a few short years ago, would’ve prevented him fromcrossing over. The permanence of his decision weighed down on him, as he knewthat once he left, he’d never return.

…Maybe I should’ve broken my own heart instead of letting you do it forme.

And with his next step, the soul was gone.

[sushoii]

Finally

This is the Percy Jackson story thingy I mentioned earlier, I edited it but probably not that well, sorry for the bad writing skills. 

1736 words

Long into the future, you are lost on a road unused for many years, after driving for awhile you find an old farmhouse on a hill next to a large evergreen, surrounded by fields of strawberries and grapes. You knock on the door, after no answer you open the door.

Inside that farmhouse you find a man in a wheelchair who’s looking a bit old to be living alone, you ask him where you are. He says to you that you are in a magical place only to be reached by those who believe, that he can even show you something magical. He then leads you to another room, a very large room, inside the room there are multiple showcases. Standing there in awe at the sheer amount of it all, you turn around to ask the man why these are here, he tell’s you that they are his prized possessions from his favorite kids at the camp from long ago. He then exits the room to leave you be. You go to look at the showcases unknowing of where to start. You see at the end of the room the largest showcase of them all, you look inside and see a tattered old yankee cap, a rusty old pen, a satyr flute, a basebal bat, and a pair of glasses and a coin. There is a piece of firewood along with an old canadian flag, a couple gems and rare minerals, a couple of native american children books along with a dagger, and a metal dragon head. Underneath each set of item’s there is a necklace with countless beads and a picture of a tattoo. You look around the room noticing random things in the showcases, things like a silver tiara, an old Mcdonald’s happy meal box, a pair of shoes with wings, broken spear, a pair of sunglasses with one lens, and too. On the other side of the room there is a wall, on the wall there are words, almost illegible from the age. You look closer and make out the words, they are names, “Silena Beauregard, Charlie Beckendorf, Zoё Nightshade, Ethan Nakamura.” there are only few you can make out. Everything in this room confuses you, the yankee’s is a team that stopped playing many years ago, they stopped serving Mcdonald’s happy meals like those over fifty years ago, canada changed its flag a long time ago and got rid of all of the old ones.Looking around the room you see a small bookshelf in the corner, every shelf full of pictures, the pictures ranging, there are pictures of kids, pictures of couples kissing, pictures of what looks like camp counselors with young campers pictures of families, of friends hanging out at random places. On the top shelf you notice two large pictures, in those pictures are a group of about ten plus kids in front of two structures, one of the structures says SPQR, the other says Camp Half Blood. You then look down the bookshelf, noticing a set of books, you take out the first one, reading the title “Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief” becoming curious you start reading. After a couple hours the man comes back in bring in food and blankets, suspecting you’ll be here a while for the books. In the end of the first book you are highly intrigued. You ask the man if you can stay to read all the books, he says you may, he then leads you to an extra guest room for you. You stay for around two weeks. After finally finishing the last book, you walk back into the large showcase room. The elder man is sitting in his wheelchair in front of the large showcase. As you put the books away he mutters something. “I truly miss them, they were the best” You look at him confused, it then clicks. “They were all real, you’re Chiron, aren’t you” The man looks at you, his eyes wet, “Yes. Those books were written by themselves, the orginial copies, they all had ones that they kept, they were even in every cabin here” Soaking it all in, you suddenly realize how long it must’ve been since these books were written, how long has it been since they passed you ask. “Around sixty years,” he answered. “Everything in this showcase is theirs, wanting to leave me something so i’d never forget them.” There’s a wavering to his voice, as if he’s going to cry. “The gods have gone back to Europe after following the majority of the world. I’ve been left here tending to the strawberries.” Thinking back to the beginning of the series, “In the beginning you told Percy that you were to live until you were no longer needed to teach the campers?” “Yes I did say that, as you can see I am dying, I can no longer stand on my hooves so I resorted back into the wheelchair, as soon as I help the last person that I need to, I will pass.” You suddenly become very sad that it will most likely be very soon. After having read all of the books you gained a sudden attachment to all the characters, feeling as if you knew them in person, that you had gone on the adventures with them. “Who do you think the last person you help will be?” You ask. He answers very solemnly, “I do believe that the last person will be you, I can feel, in a couple months maybe weeks I will be gone. You have been the first person to come by here in over thirty years.” Weeks pass, Chiron slowly becoming weaker, you stayed to watch over him and be there for him, all of a sudden one day he says “I want to give this house to you, I could tell while you were reading that you truly began to love them, and after knowing you for long, I trust this to you.” In the end you had began crying“Okay” you answer. For the next couple months you watch as Chiron becomes even weaker than he had been that day. Slowly making memories of your time with him, and of all the stories he’d tell you.  The day he passes everything around is completely silent, as if the world itself was mourning the loss. Years pass and you have published every one of the books for others to enjoy. Opening the farmhouse as a small museum for the fans of the books, they gained a large amount of fans, that also learned to fall in love with the stories and the people in them.. Although none of them know that it was all real. That all of these things were really theirs, that the man who lived in this farmhouse was indeed Chiron. Many years later, when you grow old, you close the farmhouse up, giving all of the things in it to your grandchildren whom you had told all the stories that Chiron had told you and the memories of Chiron from those short months, you trust them that they will forever believe that is was all real. But knowing that in their futures years they’ll stop believing in things, you remain worried. The day you pass is a peaceful one. After death you wake up, in what looks of what Chiron had described as Hades’ throne room. “Well finally there you are.” you hear a familiar voice. Looking up you see a man who looks like Chiron, except many decades younger, and not in a wheelchair. You look down at yourself realizing you’re as young as you were when you first met him “I have some people you would like to meet, I’ve been telling them stories of you. I’ve had Hades keep an eye on you too, making sure everything went right. I love what you did for the farmhouse and everything. You spread joy to everyone that read the books” You begin crying, tears of joy, you never thought you’d see Chiron again, in those few months you began to love him as if he was your own grandfather. “Would you like to meet them?” Chiron says holding out a hand for you to help you up. Confused, you look behind him, seeing some people that look  strangely familiar but you know you’ve never seen in person. After a couple moments of silence you realize where you’d seen them before. They look as young as they did in the two large pictures on the bookshelf. “I would love to meet them” Chiron guides you over to them. By the end of the day you had learned that because of the things they did in life, Zeus and Poseidon persuaded  Hades to build them a castle in the underworld where they get to live there for all of eternity with all of their memories intact after having heard about you from Chiron they got Hades to agree that you got to live down here too. After a couple days you realize Thalia was immortal being in the Hunter’s of Artemis. Questioning this you ask them, they answer that because Thalia is immortal another rule they got was that Thalia gets to visit them whenever she has time. The next day Thalia herself visits. When they first introduced you to her, you were confused because you have met this person before in life she was your best friend that used to visit.. Thalia explains that she had been watching you ever since Chiron passed, she had been there when you came to the farmhouse, that she was just in the other room making Chiron some lunch. Chiron had told her that you were there and she had left. After he had passed she had began hanging around the farmhouse, when you opened it, she had started to visit you, slowly becoming close friends over the years. One year she had disappeared, because she knew you would notice she did not age. Knowing she would meet you again she stayed away, finally being able to today. Lying in bed that night you realize that you got to ‘live’ your dream of meeting them. That finally after reading the books, you get to go on adventures with them for real, throughout the underworld, that they’re your friends. You think finally that, in the end, everything is perfect.

[jojuarez26]

When love isnt enough:About that

Mature content and strong language Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC @pathybo @tigpooh67 @ljvosscmt @beautifulramblingbrains @beltz2016 @clublulu333 @scorpio2009 @frecklefaceb @societalfailure @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @glamlover87 @dani5102 @angolodiparadiso @mom2reesie @ariwolff14 @james-k-delaney @ericdauntless @drowning-in-my-dreams @crystalbaby12 @muffinmano @sparklemichele @singingpeople Standing at the edge of the pit and I am ready to have a melt down. Where the hell did he go. I am convinced he snuck out of the compound again. I turn down the corridor stomping like a child throwing a tempertantrum. I don't want to have to talk to Amar by myself. I am not a very good liar. What do I even say? Before I can even comprehend what is happening I am being jerked down a dark side corridor. I pull back my fist prepared to scream just as I get let go. "Aleisia sweetheart, hey, hey it's just me." Eric. Of course. "You need to stop doing that jerk," he has been doing this to me for months now. I slapped his chest as he just tries not to laugh. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you? " "The computer lab. I had a few things to do. I don't want to talk about it in the open. I'll tell you tonight at home." Home? I think I might like the sound of that. Something I use to think I didn't want. A home with a significant other. "Is something wrong?" oops. Train jumped the track for a second. "Actually yes. Amar knows we got off the train at four thirty. I don't know what else he knows. He wants us both in his office." he doesn't look pleased. His face takes on a dark sinster look. For the first time in awhile he is actually scarring me. He must realize what he looks like, he lets his features relax and circles his arms around me. "Sorry. Just threw me off. Nobody can know where we went. Audrianna's life depends on it." "I know. But you need to promise me you aren't going to hurt my uncle." I think this is part of why I don't fully trust him yet. "I won't hurt him. I may have to adjust his memory though." he cocks his head to the side in thought. "I can live with that. Stop thinking so hard. Your Erudite is showing." At this he lets out a small laugh. "I have to stop at the dorms quick first, but lets go now." I knock lightly on Amar's office door. This whole situation is making me feel uneasy. Eric too I think. After being invited in we enter and sit down while Amar is studying our every move. "I swear I think you are part Candor sometimes," I snipe at him. "Worse." is all he says. "You wanted to see us sir." Eric is rigid and tense. "Relax Coulter. Neither of you are in trouble. I have no intentions of telling anyone you left. I have something's to discuss with you both and this one needs to not lie to me," he narrowed his eyes in my direction. "We just wen-" "Shut up son. I don't want you lieing to me either." Eric's eyes darkened. "After initiation I must leave the city. I need to fake my death. You two are going to help me. In the meantime we need to make plans on how your going to stop Jeanine and stop a war." Eric's eyes went wide, then his face twisted into a feral look. What the hell was Amar talking about and what did he know? I started to panic. I was afraid a fight was going to break out and it would be nasty. But Eric actually surprised me "This really is not the place to discuss such matters with all due respect sure." he is calm. A little too calm. "Relax son. My cameras in here are on a repetitive loop right now." he smiles coyly. "Amar I don't understand. What on Earth are you talking about." "Well I had to wait and see who you decided on first Little Bit. Thing's are not as they seem. However young Coulter here is already well aware of that. Seeing as how you chose Eric now you two are just about the cities last hope." he is serious. This can't be good. "Sir I think you are mistaken. I don't know what you think I know," he cuts Eric off again. "Jeanine is your mother not Elaine. I knew your father. He was a good friend. She murdered him along with my brother. For being Divergent." "Jeanine murdered my father? Uncle have you been dabbling in the herb garden again?" this is insane. "You knew my father? How do you know everything you know? How do I know I can trust you? That you aren't lieing to me." Eric seems torn between excited and suspicious. "Easy. I will show you. Follow me. Both of you," he stands and we all head to the lower levels of Dauntless. This is a place I didn't even know existed. I can feel the unease and tenison radiating from the man standing next to me. After everything he told me I suppose I understand. Soon we arrive in a low lit area in front of rows of I think storage lockers. We stopped at the last and largest one. Amar pulled out keys and unlocked it. He motioned Eric over to help him lift the door. Inside where lots of boxes, furniture, a safe, a damn motorcycle. I thought those were obsolete. "What is all of this," Eric was eyeing the motorcycle like it was a precious resource or something. "It's yours. These are all your father's belongings. Rusty left everthing he had to you. His only child." he surveyed the contents before turning to Amar. "He knew about me? Why didn't he rescue me from those idiots in Erudite?" I can't tell if he is more angry or hurt. "He tried. Candor ruled in Jeanine and Elaine's favor. He was killed three weeks later." "His name was Rusty?" how is he so damn calm? "Rusty Garrens. Your Aunt is still here in Dauntless. Your uncle is in Candor. He watches over Ryan for me." "I have more family? Do they know about me?" he looks like he might get sick. I know I would. "Albert knew of you but not who you or your mother are. Dawn does not. Both of your grandparents are gone I think. Or at least Factionless. This is Dauntless you know." The two men stepped inside the large unit. Amar gave Eric a gold and a silver key. "The silver one opens the door. Gold the safe." "May I?" he nods to the safe. "Of course. It is after all yours." my uncle smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "How do you know all of the things you know? Why did you wait so long to tell me?" he inquiries while working on opening the safe. "Rus and Tish were Dauntless born. Raul, Jeanine and myself Erudite. Of course Raul loved Tish. They met at school. He knew she would never leave Dauntless, so he came here. He was best friends with Rusty and he always had an eye for Jeanine." "She was never going to leave Erudite. Your grandmother groomed her to take over as leader since she could walk. Rusty wasn't going to ever leave here either. Jeanine was furious. The only man she ever had eyes for and he defied her. Refused to join her." "How the hell did she manage to conceive me? I am extremely curious." I could see that Erudite brain turning. "She begged Rus. But they had to do it the way they did to not be found out as faction traitors guilty of treason. When Rusty found out Elaine actually had you and how Michael treated you he marched right into Erudite threatened to kill both of them and tried to take you. Needless to say he didn't get far." "He went to Albert in Candor and was granted a closed circuit investigation and trial and custody proceedings. Jeanine won. She vowed revenge. Always was a bitter, cruel bitch." "She use to use Rus and Raul for trial runs on all new forms of fear serums. That's how she discovered they where Divergents." my uncle looked so sad. I have never seen such sorrow in his eyes. "She used the Factionless riots to cover up their murder's didn't she?" Hell fire burned in Eric's eyes. "Precisely. I always figured you would end up here. Waited for it. Then you and Four end up going toe to toe over my niece right before my very eyes. Reminded me of Raul and his friend David over Tish years ago." my cheeks flamed red while my uncle winked at me. "I sat back waiting to see what path she would choose. I always planned things this way. I just didn't know if she would end up part of this. As long as you control your damn temper and treat her right, I couldn't be more pleased." he smiled brightly at Eric. "I swear I just want to keep her safe. See if she can show me how to love. She's already given me someone to trust," I felt tears sting my eyes. "I have a long way to go. I'm extremely damaged I am afraid. But I try every day. For her." he was pulling large yellow envelopes out of the safe. "Let's take the envelopes and have dinner at my place yeah." Amar suggested. "Sure. I'd like that. Can you carry a few of these for me sweetheart." "Absolutely fucking not!!" Eric slammed his hand on the table. "She will NEVER have contact with Jeanine let alone volunteer to hunt Divergents. Have you lost your fucking mind," Amar sighed while Eric raged. "You need people you trust if we are to save as many people as possible. I trust my niece with my life." The conversation went south quickly. It was suggested I help so we could deceive and gather intel on Jeanine. Amar also felt it would eliminate her from using me as leverage and deemed it safer. "Eric it would be the safest thing for her. Besides, she would even out your damn temper. " they are giving me a headache. I was ready to go home. "Call it a night. Take her home get her in bed. Think about it. We have time still." "There is nothing to think about. Not fucking happening. Wait. Did you just give me permission to stay with Aleisia? " I was shocked to say the least because that was sure what it sounded like. Amar just gave him a sly grin. "Permission? No. Just don't get caught same as you haven't for weeks now. It'll be fine." "You've known?" I want to die of embarrassment. I figured my mother knew, but never Amar. "I know more than you think Little Bit. It puts my mind at ease, you not being by yourself so much, a man to protect you and your mother. I think after initiation is done he should just move in if it's ok with the three of you. Your mother suggested it." what the hell? I don't even know if Eric would want to live with us. "We can all have dinner here on Sunday to discuss it. Get home you two, it's late. It's been an emotional evening and Eric still has training in the morning." what a day. It was beyond crazy and insane. We laid in bed opening up the large yellow envelopes from the safe. There was pictures of Eric when he was young.

[kristallioness]

Healing herself

Summary: Kya discovers that she has healing abilities, just like her mother.

Word count: 2,941

Author's note: I haven't written anything in awhile, so I came up with this short drabble about Katara taking care of Kya. And I can't believe I teared up when I wrote the last things Kya and Katara say to each other. The little waterbender is more of a healer than a fighter, so I like to think that she would've tried to use her waterbending to heal as well (besides learning the basics of medicine), but she had never successfully done it until this moment. The way Kya reacts (grabbing her mother's hand/the stethoscope) when Katara wants to listen to her is something that I found to be quite adorable after I'd stumbled across a random video about a baby doing it during an exam. Also, when I remembered that airbenders have a special breathing technique, which helps them keep their bodies warm, I wanted to turn this into something interesting.. Read and you'll find out. There are *counts*.. four references to my older fics, including "Falling to pieces", "An afternoon at the hospital", "Playing healer" and "Recovery". I feel like my writing has become very rusty.. okay, maybe not that bad. I just need another idea, something that'd actually have a plot. In the meantime, take this or leave it *hides*.

----------x----------

"Kya? Good morning, sweetie!"

A slightly drowsy little girl peeked at her with her left eye before releasing a loud yawn.

"Aaaaahhhh.. morning, mommy!" Kya stretched and turned on her back, rubbing her eyes to clear the blur from their watering. The little waterbender had fallen ill last night and since she'd already been too tired to stay up any longer, her mother had allowed her to go to bed early and rest, promising to give her a checkup the next morning. With Kya being the one who insisted, which usually meant that she felt rather poorly. Hence why she was greeted by three gentle knocks against the door to her room a moment ago.

Katara quietly slid the door open and stepped inside. She was carrying a tray of food and medical equipment, one of which was a familiar shiny 'necklace', decorating her neck. Only the most essential things they'd need. The smell coming from a bowl containing still slightly boiling stewed sea prunes and a cup of hot ginger tea filled the girl's room.

"So, how are you feeling?" Katara asked as she placed the tray on the nightstand next to Kya's bed, then took a seat on her bedside. She had to make room for it since there was also a nightlight, a few children's books and a beautiful framed photograph of their family on the cupboard.

Kya had accidentally knocked the photo off the table by throwing one of her pillows at it once, breaking the glass and even cutting her finger while she attempted to clean up the mess. She'd recently turned two years old and had a huge argument with her daddy, about him not being home so much. It was all an unfortunate train of events, Aang really did have to visit Republic City during that time. Kya felt so sorry and was afraid that because of what she'd yelled at him, her daddy had left their family behind. A 2-year-old's logic, after all. Of course, Aang had already forgiven her and offered her unconditional love when she apologized while crying. Katara had helped heal her boo-boo, comforted her during the day and fixed the glass by replacing the shattered one with a new one. The little waterbender has been extra careful with it ever since.

"A bit warm," Kya answered her mother's question, watching intently as she laid the cool palm of her right hand against her temple. The heavy feeling in her forehead dissipated a little, even without Katara doing anything - a healer's touch, as everybody liked to say. She went into a short coughing fit while her mother pondered. That was the first symptom, along with weariness, which had appeared the previous evening.

"You are a bit warm.. do you think that we should take your temperature?" Katara wondered as she reached for the thermometer on the tray. The current reading was a bit too high probably due to the last measurement, so she began swinging it in the air to force the mercury to go down to its normal level. Kya hummed and nodded in agreement, allowing her mother to fiddle with her sleeve in order to place the thermometer under her right arm.

"Let's keep it under there for a few minutes.."

"Okay, mommy," Kya said as she laid her right hand on her stomach to make sure it didn't slip anywhere, just like her mommy had taught her.

"While we wait, why don't you tell me what else is bothering you besides that nasty cough?"

The only reply Kya gave to her mother was a very loud sniff.

"Ah-haa.. a runny nose?" Katara raised an eyebrow playfully, Kya nodded again.

"Nothing else? No tummy ache? You're not feeling sick?" the master waterbender tenderly ran a finger across her daughter's abdomen, slightly tickling it, which helped cheer the little girl up by making her laugh.

"Nuh-uh!" Kya shook her head and smiled back at her mother, who reached for the wooden tongue depressor next.

"Good.. but since you've been coughing a lot, do you mind if I take a look at your throat?"

Kya simply opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue, which was all Katara needed to proceed.

"Say 'Aahh!'," she ordered after a couple of seconds of observing.

"Aahh!" the little waterbender repeated.

"Well, it is a little redder than normal, but that's probably because you've been coughing all night long," Katara gently touched Kya's neck to be sure there wasn't any swelling, which would've indicated an infection. She was pleased that she couldn't feel anything.

"You know, Kya, we talked last night and your daddy promised that he'll go to the hospital as soon as the pharmacy opens."

Since it was a Saturday, the biggest pharmacy in the city, which happened to be in Katara's hospital and had the largest variety as well as supply of drugs that could be kept in specific conditions, didn't open until noon.

"But I don't want daddy to go! I don't need any medicine," Kya pouted, breaking eye contact with her mother as she stared blankly at her stuffed Appa plush, which was among her other toys on the carpet.

"Kya.. it's not just any medicine we're talking about. It's frozen wood frogs," Katara joined Kya's right hand with her own, softly grazing the back of it with her thumb.

"Exactly. I told you - I don't wanna suck on frozen frogs!" she whined.

"Daddy will go anyway. I tried to tell him, but he's already made up his mind about this. And who knows, maybe you'll change your mind when he comes back," Katara said as she moved on to stroking her daughter's head. She merely puffed out an annoyed breath, which sounded more like a pathetic cough.

"I'll remind you that if you eat the substance, you'll be cured within a day or two, otherwise you'll be sick for a few more days before you start to feel better.. Think about it. I sucked on some of those little critters when I was sick. And you being my healer certainly helped, too."

"I remember.." Kya sighed sadly. It wasn't too long ago when their roles had been switched - Katara being the patient and Kya her healer.

"So, will you let me be your healer now?" Katara tilted her head, gazing into her daughter's eyes, a loving smile on her lips.

"Sure, mommy," Kya eventually gave in, prompting Katara to release a short chuckle.

"Thank you, sweetie!.. I think it's ready," Katara stated before she pulled the thermometer out from under the little waterbender's right arm, then stared at the result. Her facial expression remained somewhat neutral, yet relieved, meaning it wasn't anything serious.

"37.5 degrees, that's a normal fever there," she put the medical instrument away, then grabbed that pretty and long shiny 'necklace' of hers.

"Would you like to lie down or sit up while I listen to you?" Katara wondered as she rubbed and breathed on the metal end of her stethoscope to warm it up in the meantime.

"I don't mind either way," Kya shrugged.

"Alright, in that case, I'll listen to your lungs while you're lying down. Okay?" she said while undoing the two buttons on her daughter's shirt. The little waterbender nodded.

"Would you take nice deep breaths through your mouth for me?" Katara asked once more. Kya complied, knowing exactly how thoroughly her mother would go through this procedure.

"Good girl, go on..." Katara praised, moving the diaphragm from left to right while going downwards to compare the sounds of her lungs.

"Cough," the elder waterbender ordered once she'd reached the lower half of her chest. The little waterbender coughed twice so her mother could listen to both sides.

"Nothing abnormal so far.. I wanna hear how well you breathe just a little bit longer, so would you mind sitting up now? Come sit with me," Katara smiled and patted her lap, inviting Kya over. The little waterbender slowly rose from her bed, then crawled closer to her mother, who helped by lifting her into her lap. Katara removed Kya's shirt completely and put it on the blanket, then pushed her long hair to the front and continued auscultating from her back. Kya also continued to breathe very deeply as well as slowly.

There was one thing her mother had to admit - she definitely had the proper breathing technique of an airbender, which sounded clearer, was really calm and collected. Kya must've been born with it because Aang hadn't taught her anything related to it yet, which made it even more impressive. Katara was very much aware of that. All those nights sleeping on Aang's bare chest like it was her personal pillow, feeling it rise and descend along with her own head as he breathed, the soft thumping echoing the beats of his heart into her right ear. She'd recognize an airbender anywhere based on the way they breathed to keep themselves warm.

"And one more time?" Katara finally asked, after which her daughter released a slightly rattling cough. She actually needed to catch her breath after that last one.

"Very good, sweetie.. Muah!" the elder waterbender gifted her with a kiss on the top of her head for being such an obedient patient.

"You can breathe normally now, I'm just gonna listen to your heartbeat," Katara explained while she softly pulled Kya's thick hair on her back again, which provided her with some warmth, too. She carefully ran the fingers of her free hand through her daughter's locks to comb them straight. Having taken the diaphragm into her left hand, she placed the stethoscope on the girl's chest, this time to listen to her heart. Kya gently grabbed Katara's hand with both her own, holding on to it whilst her mother moved the diaphragm around above her ribcage. Every time Kya did that, it reminded Katara of how she used to do it when she was just a baby.

Aang would have her in a cradle hold in his arms while Katara carried out her regular checkups. Kya's tiny cerulean eyes were rarely open, being close to her daddy always helped her calm down and fall asleep easily. The quiet room of a healer's office also helped along, which only simplified the examination for the healer herself. So one time - when Katara wanted to listen to her heart - as soon as she'd laid the round end of her stethoscope on the baby's chest, Kya's small fingers had grasped it and held it down pretty strong, even when Katara had finished and wanted to pull it away. Aang gently nudged Katara when he'd noticed the first time she did it.

"Hey, look! She's even trying to assist you," he joked in a whisper, making his wife giggle, too. Kya stopped doing it after she'd turned about a year old, becoming more alert and timid of the process. But once Katara allowed her to listen for herself for the first time a few years later, she discovered a new exciting side to it, one that amazed her and felt rather comforting at the same time. Now - whenever Katara was about to finish - she'd ask the same question every time, knowing just how eager her daughter was.

"Sweetie? Do you wanna listen, too?"

And Kya would nod happily, a silent 'Mhm!' escaping her mouth.

"Just a moment.." Katara placed the diaphragm on the spot where the beating was the loudest, mostly palpable as well.

"Okay, hold it right there," she added, then removed the earpieces and put them into Kya's ears. The little waterbender's room remained silent for almost a minute. Katara wrapped her right arm around her small body, slightly pulling Kya closer into her embrace. She didn't mind, although she did notice it and looked up at her mother, who had a big grin on her face.

"Mommy?" she asked in a quiet tone.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can I listen with the.. the..?" she pointed at the metal chestpiece, but she'd forgotten how the other side was called. Katara helped her out by pretending like she was holding something in her hand and sort of tinkling it.

"The bell?"

"Sure.. here, let me help you," the master waterbender took it in her hands for a moment to turn it around before offering it back to her baby girl. Kya gently pressed the hollow side of her mother's stethoscope on the same spot to listen for another minute. Katara had been teaching her other medical terms and life-saving skills too, including how to wrap up a smaller bleed or wound. Obviously that would've been much easier to heal, but since Kya hadn't shown any signs of having healing abilities, she couldn't practise it.

The little waterbender's cerulean eyes grew wide when she heard a sudden loud grumbling, Katara couldn't help but laugh.

"Looks like someone's hungry, your tummy growled," she tickled her daughter's stomach again, which made her giggle, too. Kya handed the medical instrument back to her mother, who hung it around her neck.

"Time for breakfast," Katara declared while helping Kya put her shirt back on, after which the little waterbender crawled back onto her bed, climbed under the blanket and lay down on her two pillows.

"I hope you like stewed sea prunes, cause that's what you're having," she handed Kya the bowl along with a spoon.

"Can I have some fruit pie, too?" the little girl pleaded.

"Of course, after you've eaten this and gulped down at least half of that ginger tea. Besides, I'm not sure, but I'll probably have to check if we have any left over.. And I suppose if we don't, daddy can help me bake some more for dinner. Agreed?"

"Mhmm.. yummy!" Kya nodded while slurping some of the delicious broth. Katara helped her put the empty dishes back on the tray once she was finished. By the time she was beginning to drink her tea, she also began shivering.

"Are you cold? Aww, your fever must be rising," the elder waterbender checked her temple.

"I'll go find my pouch and bring some cold water to lower your fever, be back in a few minutes," Katara stood up from her daughter's bed and, in a slight quicker pace, left her room to head to the healing hut where she'd most likely left her water skin. Kya tried her best to finish her tea sooner when she suddenly remembered that there should be some fresh water left over in her own pouch.

"Mommy!" Kya called for her, but her mother was probably too far away to hear her. Since it didn't sound like a very desperate cry either, she probably wouldn't turn around and come back.

The little waterbender decided to take matters into her own hands, so she put the almost empty cup back on the tray, jumped out of bed and went to pick up her water skin from the floor, where many of her toys were also located. As soon as she'd made herself cosy in her bed, she waterbended some of the liquid on her tiny palm and pressed it against her forehead. She attempted to move it around in slow circles, or at least in a similar motion that she'd usually feel when her mother does it. She did feel a little better, but she wasn't certain if she was doing it right.

When Katara finally returned, she'd been waterbending for two minutes.

"Sorry I was gone so long, sweetie. I heard you calling me, but I was just on my way to-"

Katara's sentence was cut off by a sharp clatter, which startled Kya, and her mouth dropped wide open. She'd dropped the porcelain plate with the only piece of leftover fruit pie she'd found in the kitchen, whereas her daughter would've almost lost control of the water she was bending. It was a good thing she didn't.

"What's wrong, mommy?" Kya wondered, a bit scared and confused. Katara remained standing there like that for another few seconds before she managed to take a couple of hesitant steps closer until she reached the bedside and could take a seat. She gazed at her daughter, her diamond blue eyes still wide from the surprise and shock. She could hear the familiar humming sound, she witnessed the radiating glow. She was definitely not dreaming.

"Kya.. y-you.. you're healing, sweetie."

"Huh?" she found that hard to believe.

"Look," Katara summoned some of the ice-cold water she'd filled her pouch with, which was hanging near her waist. She froze the fluid into a thin layer of ice, an alternative for a mirror, and showed Kya a reflection of herself. The water on her forehead, around her hand, was glowing brightly. The little waterbender's cerulean eyes grew just as wide as her mother's had been moments ago. Actually, her mother's eyes began to tear up now.

"You have healing abilities, sweetie!" Katara exclaimed in delight. She quickly melted the ice back into its liquid state and waterbended it back inside her own pouch, letting her daughter do the same with hers. Then she tenderly cupped Kya's cheeks and placed a big kiss on her wet forehead, pulling her precious baby into a full embrace. The little waterbender was still busy processing what had just happened, so she said the most irrelevant, or rather the first thing that came to mind.

"Uh.. sorry about making you drop the plate, mommy. Can I still have some fruit pie?"

"Oh, my silly little waterbender! You can have all the fruit pie you want!" Katara choked through her crying.

[smartgirlsaremean]

My Heart’s in the Highlands - Chapter 9

Fandom: OUAT, Hamish Macbeth

Pairing: Bellish

Rating: T

Summary: With Rumplestiltskin gone, Belle can't face going back to the Enchanted Forest without him. She leaves Storybrooke forever, travels the world, and ends up in a small village in Scotland, where she meets a constable with a very familiar face.

AO3

Last Time: After learning that he had the Sight, Belle, curious about the apparent presence of magic and the supernatural in Lochdubh, told TV John about her past in the Enchanted Forest and Storybooke.

“Mornin’, Belle.”

“Morning, Hamish!”

Hamish grinned. Belle was always chipper, but today she looked ready to turn cartwheels. “Good news, I take it?”

“The best! I can finally move out of Esme’s house!”

For a hideous moment Hamish thought the worst, that she’d had enough of village life and was leaving Lochdubh. Her sunny smile, though, banished that thought almost as soon as it appeared.

“Found a flat?”

“A house, actually, just across the street. The McElroys moved to Inverness to be near their grandchildren. They’ve left the furniture and everything, which is wonderful because I don’t have any at all, and I haven’t saved quite enough to furnish a whole house.”

“That tired of living with Esme, are you?”

“Of course not! She’s a wonderful roommate! But...well, I was beginning to feel a bit like a third wheel, if I’m honest.”

Hamish grinned. “Aye, I’ve heard that before. They’re lovely people, Rory and Esme, but they can get a bit...focused on each other.”

“They’re an adorable couple, really,” Belle sighed with a dreamy sort of smile. “So passionate about each other, so sweet and considerate. I’m grateful to Esme for putting me up, but I know they won’t be sorry to see the back of me.”

“When do you move in?”

“Tomorrow!” She spun away to pick up a pile of books and Hamish followed her into the stacks.

“Need any help?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“I mean with moving.”

She turned to look at him, tilting her head with a little smile. “All I have is my clothes, Hamish. But if you really want to help...it wouldn’t exactly be easy to carry two suitcases across the street by myself.”

“Of course I want to help. Wouldn’t offer otherwise, would I?”

She shook her head and carefully pushed a book into place. “Meet me at Esme’s at about eight tomorrow?”

“‘Course.”

“You’re sure you’ve got everything, Belle?” Esme looked at Belle’s suitcases uncertainly. “I know you said you didn’t have much, but…”

“That’s it, honestly, Esme.”

“You’re not going to take them both yourself?”

“No, Hamish should be here any minute to help me.”

“Hamish! That’s very neighborly of him.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at Esme’s tone. “Yes, it is.”

“Hmm. A pity you don’t have any furniture to move over. I always like to see a man do a bit of hard labor. D’you want to borrow one of my armchairs?”

“Esme!” Belle giggled even as she fought a mental image of Hamish’s wiry arms flexing under a heavy load. Surely moving furniture would be warm and he’d want to wear something a bit cooler than those button-down flannels he was so fond of in his off hours...

“Oh, never mind, I’m sure you’ll find a coffee table or summat in the house that isn’t in the ideal spot.”

“You’re terrible,” Belle scolded.

Esme winked at her. “I don’t suppose you’re going to repay him for his help with a nice home-cooked meal.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t want to punish him when he’s being nice to me.”

Shaking her head, Esme smiled and straightened the tablecloth, glancing out the window. “You’re good for him, Belle. He hasn’t smiled sae much in a long time. I was afraid he wouldn’t meet anyone else after Isobel left for...well, the Lord only knows where she is now.”

Belle froze in the act of pulling back a curtain. “Isobel? Who’s Isobel?”

“Oh...Hamish hasn’t told you?”

“It’s not as if we’re a couple,” Belle pointed out a little peevishly.

“Well, she...she’s a reporter. She worked for the Listener until she got her big break and moved to Glasgow about two years ago.”

“And she and Hamish were...together?”

“Not exactly.” Esme twisted her hands. “It’s a bit of a long story, and Hamish should be the one to tell you. I’m sorry I brought it up...I thought you knew.”

No, she hadn’t known. He’d said something about a loss, but he’d also said that was three years ago, not two. Of course it was silly to be even a little uneasy about this information about his past: he had a bit of a reputation, and it couldn’t all be exaggerated. But Esme made it sound as if this had been a serious connection, and now Belle was absolutely burning with curiosity.

At precisely eight o’clock Hamish knocked on Esme’s door. He easily hefted the largest of Belle’s suitcases and followed her across the street. Belle’s hands shook with excitement as she used her key to open the door of her new house. The door swung in on slightly rusty hinges and Hamish stepped forward to turn on the light.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and Belle giggled. She’d had the same reaction when she first set foot in the house, though she hadn’t said it aloud. The thick shag carpeting was a sickly gold color, the walls a shade of faded pea green. And the furniture…

“This is the ugliest bloody house I’ve ever seen,” Hamish said solemnly, looking around him with wide eyes.

“I don’t think they’ve bought a single stick of furniture since 1967,” Belle agreed, wrestling her suitcase in the door.

“How could you possibly live here? I’m getting a headache just standing here.”

“It won’t be forever. I’ve already chosen a color for the walls, and the carpet’ll come up. There are lovely hardwood floors underneath.”

“The McCraes could probably help with that. And as soon as you can replace the furniture I’ll be more than happy to toss this garbage out for you.”

“I’m not totally helpless, y’know,” Belle teased him.

“Aye, I know, but why go it alone when there’s people to help?”

Belle had no answer to that. She just wasn’t used to people offering to help.

“Where are we putting these?” Hamish gestured at the suitcases.

“Oh, uh…” Belle felt herself blush. “Right down the hall.”

Her bedroom - the only bedroom in the place - was just as garishly decorated as the rest of the house, except that the walls were a bright fuschia.

“Holy hell,” Hamish huffed as he set his suitcase down. “Are you gonna get any sleep in here at all?” Belle felt her face flush more deeply, and Hamish turned horrified eyes on her. “I didnae mean...I...that was…”

“It’s okay.” She pushed her suitcase farther into the room. “This’ll probably be the first room I paint.”

Hamish had set down the other suitcase and scuttled backward, and now he was hovering in the doorway as if afraid he would be struck by lightning if he reentered the room. “Is that everything, then?”

“Yes, that’s everything.”

Hamish returned to the living room and stood in the center of the room, bouncing slightly on the balls of feet. Belle followed him and tried not to laugh; for all his swagger and confidence, he could certainly act like a shy teenager when he was feeling off balance.

“Esme suggested a homemade meal to thank you, but I like you too much to try to poison you,” she said, which earned her one of his crooked smiles. “How do you feel about the Stag Bar?”

“Best restaurant in town, innit?”

“Give me a few minutes and dinner’ll be my treat.”

“Blue?”

Belle looked up from where she was placing drop cloths over the chairs. “It’s my favorite.”

Hamish looked thoughtfully at the paint cans he’d opened. “It’s a good color.” It was a paler version of the color of her eyes, but he didn’t want to say that. “You don’t wanna protect the carpet?”

Belle grinned at him. “Are you kidding? The carpet’s coming up anyway. I saved a fortune on drop cloths.” She put her hands on her hips and looked around. “I think we’re ready.” Tossing him a roll of painter’s tape, Belle pulled off her sweatshirt to reveal a black tank top and Hamish nearly swallowed his tongue. She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to get paint all over that shirt.”

“I’ll, uh...I’ll be fine.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Taking her own roll of tape, Belle bent down to begin placing tape on the baseboards and Hamish took a deep breath, moving to the other side of the room. It was going to be a long day.

When all the tape was laid they started work on the walls, Hamish taking charge of the roller while Belle did the trim. They chatted about the library and books and their friends in the village, and Hamish did his very best not to notice that Belle’s tank top dipped a little too low when she bent over and then slipped up above the waistband of her sweatpants when she reached above her head (which was frequently, the precious wee thing). They ate sandwiches on the floor while the first coat dried, the room pleasantly cool from the breeze drifting through the open windows. When they got up to begin work on the second coat, Belle gestured at the front of his button-down.

“I knew that would happen.”

Hamish looked down and groaned. Flecks of blue paint covered the entire front of the shirt. “I was careful!”

“The roller splatters. I did warn you.” Belle herself was dotted with blue, too, but he doubted she cared much.

“No need to rub it in.” He shrugged out of the paint-spattered flannel and tossed it to the side. When he turned back to his roller he noticed that Belle had frozen in place, her eyes wide. “What? Did I get paint in my hair or summat?”

Smirking, Belle shook her head, her eyes flitting over him. He felt suddenly self-conscious in his white T-shirt and fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest. After a few seconds Belle turned back to her wall.

The atmosphere as they applied the second coat was much more subdued. The air felt a little thicker, the room a little smaller, Hamish thought they were a little closer to each other than before, accidentally brushing against each other a bit more often.

The room was almost finished and Hamish was concentrating very hard on anything but the fact that Belle was kneeling at his feet touching up the trim while he rolled paint onto the last stretch of wall. He heard her move away at last and, sighing with relief, he allowed his arms to fall.

“Hey!” Belle yelped.

He started and looked down. “Ah, hell, I’m sorry,” he groaned. He’d painted a wide pale blue strip right down the center of her head. “I didnae…”

“Did I put too much sugar in the tea or something?” she teased, shaking her brush at him.

“No, ay course - oi!” He jumped back when her brush made contact with his cheek.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “Accident.”

“The hell it was!” he growled. He snatched up a brush and advanced on her. “When I finish wi’ you, French, folk’ll think ye’re a bloody Smurf.”

It was a blessing the chairs and coffee table were covered as he chased her around the room. She was a quick little thing, and she managed to hold her own, darting forward to dab him with her brush before leaping behind a chair or dancing just out of reach. She was the first to call a ceasefire by collapsing on the couch and dropping her brush on the floor. He joined her and they sat there, flushed and streaked with blue paint, still nudging each other occasionally and snickering.

“God, the blue is so much better,” Belle sighed when she’d caught her breath.

“Aye. Matches your eyes, too.”

Well, hell. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. She didn’t seem to find his remark strange, or at least she didn’t say anything if she did. “Once I get some nice furniture and pull the carpet up it’ll really feel like home.”

“Will it?” Hamish turned to look at her. “You’re settled for good, then?”

“Yep. You’re all stuck with me. Before you know it you’ll be sick of the sight of me.”

“Ah, no way. More like you’ll get sick ay us.”

“Impossible.” Belle turned so that she was sitting with her back to the arm of the couch and facing him. “You don’t know...you don’t have any idea how much Lochdubh means to me. What it’s been like to be accepted somewhere, to have people who like me for who I am. That whole weird fairy business aside,” she added as an afterthought. He smiled, but he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Belle narrowed her gaze at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“Aye, I do, but…” he shrugged and looked at the floor, “brilliant young women don’t tend tae stick around verra long.”

“Isobel.”

His eyes snapped up at that. “How do you…”

“Esme mentioned her. Seemed to think I’d know what she was talking about.”

“Aye, Isobel.” He sighed. He might as well get this particular painful confession out of the way. “She’d lived here all her life, but she got too big for the place. I don’t blame her,” he said hastily. “She was brilliant and talented and had the chance tae really make a mark, y’know? And anyway we never...I mean, I never…”

Belle was staring at him as if he were revealing a great secret of the universe.

“She loved me,” he said at last. “I loved her too, but I never said ...and then she was gone and never came back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was my own fault. And there were other...I mean, when I say I’m no priest, I mean I’m as far from a priest as it’s possible to be.”

They were quiet for a little while. After a few minutes of silence Belle put her hand on his. “You don’t have to tell me. I mean,” she amended, “I’d like it if you felt comfortable enough to tell me one day, but it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Some other time,” he said gratefully.

She pulled her hand back into her lap and studied it, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Yeah.”

“I’d best be gettin’ back.” Hamish tore his eyes from her face and rose. “Jock’ll worry.”

“Give him a pat from me and tell John I said hello.” She walked with him to the door and opened it, her smile soft and sweet in the evening light.

“‘Course. G’night, Belle.”

She worked her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. She reached forward and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Hamish.”

Next Time: Belle runs into an old friend

[ninetytwotechnology-blog]

RETURNED TO THE FUTURE OF AGILE SOFTWARE PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT

This blog is inspired by way of Ken Schwaber's dangerous at any speed weblog post. In brief, ken cautions towards returning to the RUP practices disguised as an agile framework, and urges his readers to preserve their dedication to the agile manifesto.

While i am very plenty with ken as regards to heuristics, questioning for yourself and sticking to the ideas of agile, there are a few deeper matters to that than management vs. Software developers, or RUP vs. Agile oppositions. Make yourself cozy, as it's going to be an interesting  7+ min examine, or something more time you might need to ponder it.

THE ORIGINS OF RUP AND WATERFALL ('80S--'90S)

Let's look back at RUP, waterfall and different such unified processes, you name them.  Where are their roots, and whilst did they in reality make experience? It is in the '80s-90s of the remaining century, perhaps even within the '70s. The unified procedures are the legacy of business and agricultural age production techniques from the sooner instances of the twentieth century. Returned then, inside the '80s-90s, it changed into very natural to think about software improvement as yet every other subject of manufacturing, no longer any exceptional from hardware or commodities. Besides — and it is an important factor to note — the pace of changes within the commercial and agricultural surroundings has continually been gradual. No adjustments for fifty+, or even one hundred+ years in some instances.

First, everybody notion that software program manufacturing goes to be like that as well. No adjustments, subsequently no changes within the market/manufacturing surroundings, for this reason no trouble-fixing abilities required. Properly, if the issues related to an unchanged recurring hobby were solved once and for all, all you want to do is follow some regulations and commandments. No new troubles -> no modifications -> inflexible processes.  With software improvement, all of it went along inside the equal style with the increase of outsourcing in the late ninety's - the early 00's.  I used to paintings in an outsourcing enterprise, by the manner, and i consider how we have been luring the possible clients again then through neat RUP  diagrams, as we attempted to convince them that their task might be achieved on time and inside budget.

Subsequent, with no adjustments in the surroundings, rigid tactics are supposed to paintings quality. Nicely, great it was till some moment. It appears that by 2001 (maybe it became associated with the notorious y2k problem, at the side of the others), however there came an know-how to the thinking people within the software program industry that something become wrong. Inflexible boilerplate procedures did now not appear to be working to create viable software inside the converting surroundings. This important mass of modifications found a small outlet, as the lava first appears best as a tiny movement, inside the 2001 agile manifesto, and ken schwaber changed into one in all individuals who signed it.

I see the agile manifesto because the soul's cry of creative  software engineers who wanted to say it out loud, that they're aware about this hassle, they declare this consciousness to the complete global, and say that they may be now not "code monkeys" but thinking people who have their option to this problem in thoughts. They wanted to face out and share their ideas about better approaches of developing software. They simply couldn't stay with that consciousness and no longer sharing it anymore. I have never studied the biographies of the agile manifesto founding fathers however for a few cause I’m certain they have got had enough of enterprise softdev companies strolling inside the procrustean mattress of the 20th century business ways.

THE AGILE MANIFESTO AND WHAT GOT HERE SUBSEQUENT (2001 — ?)

After 2001, the whole decade up till now, has been full of the thrill about agile adoption, fading or getting louder at instances. Most possibly, the agile manifesto has had its first ardent fans among bootstrapped softdev begin-americaand some small internet service stores. Or, a number of the software program engineers who simply felt they cannot do their work well in the vintage paradigm.  Simply everybody who become not a trifling "human useful resource", not a cog in the rigid procedure however a thinking individual who confronted the real troubles of their biz/ softdev life-style, and evidently had no other way to head on as in an effort to remedy those real issues. That's what the essence of agile is. Agile problem-solving inside the speedy converting environment.

Allows turn the phenomenon referred to as "agile" and have a look at the opposite aspect of the coin. As agile methodology were given its entourage of fans, agile coaches, running shoes, various certification applications, it started out showing some signs of rust. Like an idol worshipped just out of lifestyle, because all people appears to have forgotten how it appeared initially, inside the first vicinity. Now, recall this. The commercial-style groups of the overdue 90's are nonetheless there. They still have their troubles. They are still the same as in the overdue 90's, or even past due 80's. They have got budgets to spend and ��outsourcing groups to run. However since RUP and waterfall have publicly been coined as malpractices, those company companies ought to have jumped for joy as they saw someone drawing near them with the stuff called SAF (scaled agile framework). As a long way as i will see, SAF has the identical essence as RUP (correct me, if I’m incorrect) however now it wears a pleasing glittering present wrap with the massive phrase "agile" on it.  The terms are one-of-a-kind from RUP, although. It is known as SAF, however the essence is the equal: it's a prescriptive framework for business/agricultural style production in software program development.

Such organizations will indeed be happy to open their checkbooks to some thing like that, as ken says in his blog. That's what they want, and they will run pleasant with it, as long as the worldwide marketplace and business surroundings allows them to stay this way, maintaining the patterns of manufacturing where they do not want problem-fixing talents in software program development because the remaining prerequisite for running their organizations.

Now, speaking of the global marketplace environment. Of direction, the difference isn't always black-and-white. There can be companies who're business enterprise, who are changing, transitioning, remodeling their agencies, and so forth. Everybody is human, and absolutely everyone has their own troubles. Safe certainly is probably able to remedy the issues of a few groups. Of route, there may be a hybrid of corporation wondering and creative questioning (the Japanese appear to be the most apparent example of that to me).

"AGILE" AS BUZZWORD AND "AGILE" AS CONTINUOUS PROBLEM-SOLVING

I want to emphasize that there is agile as "agile, the buzzword", the silver bullet that many heard of, the idol that is meant to heal all the ulcers if you worship it. Generally, people motel to this sort of agile if they:

A) Don’t have time, or guts (sorry), to dig deep, have a look at and analyze from their personal experience and pass on. Nicely, it is one of the most commonplace misconceptions of the humankind: a perception that your precise hassle, to your particular commercial enterprise/marketplace context has a equipped made solution out-of-the-container, coming from some 3-d celebration. The prepared-made answers can best come to a in basic terms technical problem, together with the collection of steps to collect a dresser bought from ikea.  I am continuously amazed at the questions  humans ask on some forums, as they believe that a trouble in collaboration, or manufacturing, or in a procedure bizarre to their organization may be resolved via a person's quick online answer. There may be no prescription for such issues, duration. Most effective the revel in-primarily based glide and questioning, iterations and corrections in response to the remarks out of your precise enterprise/production/marketplace surroundings are possible.

B) If they're the those who pass over RUP. They nevertheless need something like it. Budgets to spend, reports to put in writing as they perform in their slender neat silos,  untouched for one purpose or any other (so far)  by changes because the late 90's or perhaps even earlier.

The 2nd form of agile — and i do not need it to be a rusty buzzword — is ready problem-fixing out-in-the-trenches. Take a living corporation that operates in a very fast-changing commercial enterprise/marketplace/production surroundings. Properly, i don't assume that such groups can afford thoughtless replica-pasting of summary prescriptions. By the manner, right here's an interesting brief  summary of agile 2013 conference. In short, the best issue about this convention, according to the writer, was mingling with the parents who've the identical problems, however the conference gave no actual solutions to those problems.  I published a submit known as agile conferences: appearance to no epiphany on a comparable difficulty approximately 4 years ago as properly.

THE LOGICAL CONCLUSION? HUMAN BEINGS. HUMANS. PEOPLE.

In case you cannot have the funds for blind replica-pasting of prescriptions to solve the actual problems for your organization, then humans are your largest asset. It truly is the actual agility. Simplest human beings may be agile. Now not a method, inside the especially true feel. Agile people can tweak the process as they want to solve their troubles that appear inside the speedy-paced environment in which they function. The folks that make one group together and are able to solve troubles continuously, because a changing environment usually includes new and new problems. If in a more slim software program development terminology we have the time period known as "continuous delivery", then my version of the buzzword definition would be:

Agile is non-stop hassle-fixing.

Now, what do you think the future will convey?  Greater of those twentieth century business/agricultural soft dev corporations? Or extra of those indie groups with their universally informed human beings, who are, properly, agile and alert because otherwise they won't survive inside the converting environment? That is an interesting difficulty in itself, and it is going a long way past this essay.

Human beings are humans. They have their issues. They stay. Existence changes. Agility is a way to live to tell the tale, live, enjoy the ones moments, and create some satisfactory software stuff so that it will make the lives of other peoples simpler, perhaps even nicer, and could assist people clear up their issues, ultimately.

So, it really is where the solution to the question “what becomes of agile inside the next few years?" is. It is a worldwide economic/enterprise marketplace, and what this market needs greater: agility as real agility, or corporation-industrial style organisations with their rigid homeostasis untouched through the adjustments. Why and the way the rigid homeostasis may be untouched isn't to be mentioned in a weblog on agile software program improvement  

Maybe I’ll write approximately it some place else, some other time.