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lauralestrange7 · 4 years ago

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𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓶 | 𝓢𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴| (Part 1 )

If you are enjoying the chapters please comment for new chapters, mentions, chapter requests, suggestions, ideas. 🌸

The motto of the Lestrange family is "𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓿𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓾𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓿𝓲 𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓮𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓽" which would when literally translated in English would mean "a crow will not pull out the eye of another crow." Referring to the complete solidarity amongst a group of like-minded people regardless of the consequences or condemnation.

Tag list :-

@blackpinkdolan 🌻✨@mais-e 🌸✨

Find the other chapters here :- Masterlist

The final bell rang loudly through the empty corridors signalling the end of the classes for the day. Students started stuffing their belongings in their bags in an outstanding rush. The teachers could not even hear their own voices over the loud commotion. Many students exited the classrooms before the teacher even acquired the chance to assign the day's homework. Professor Bins just sighed and looked at the now virtually empty classroom. He gestured his hand towards the door, signalling the handful of those sincere students who were waiting for the assignation of their homework to leave.

Most students headed to their dorms to get some rest, others to the Great hall to grab some food. Laura however seemed to be heading in an alternative direction than the crowd. She made her way to the library and walked towards her little nook in the corner. Laura loved the library and everything about it. The dimly lit lights, that were comfortable to read in, hundreds of shelves covered in dust, waiting for you to approach them, and the windows which made your heart melt every time you looked out of them, they had the most mesmerizing views and the smells of parchment old and new, white and brown that instantly signalled your brain to feel relaxed.

But what she despised was when a group of loud boys tried to talk in a low voice but failed, and seemed to burst out with silly laughter every other minute. Laura’s head shot up from where she was looking for a book, to the source of the noise. There were four boys, who were oblivious to any other presence in the library, Madam Pince the Librarian was probably at lunch. There was a very tall and thin boy with sandy hair, who had his face hidden behind a book whilst shaking with laughter, and there was a short boy who looked younger than the other three who sheepishly giggling. A bespectacled boy who seemed unbothered by the fact that he was in a library and people were trying to read in peace, he was the one cracking the jokes with funny gestures which only made him look dumb, and then there was Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, the eldest of the two Black Brothers, the blood traitor.

Laura looked back down at her book trying to ignore the noise in the background but seemed to give up within a minute. There came a howl of laughter, and that was it "It is a library you see, a place where people come to read books, in peace." She said loud and clear, sternly glaring at the lot. They seemed very startled as they looked at her, the tall boy looked very embarrassed and was very flustered as he apologized in a low voice, Laura noticed a red and golden 'Prefect' batch on his robes. It seemed like he was the only one who was going to apologize, so she looked back down at her book trying to concentrate again. Sirius looked at her, for longer than necessary, James nudged him "Mate you're staring" he joked in a whisper and cracked up silently. Sirius rolled his eyes looking down at the blank parchment with only a sentence written on the top. Time Skip "....she yelped so loudly, Professor Sprouts almost fell off her chair in surprise," Regulus said laughing softly as he looked over at his best friend, who was gripping her stomach as it hurt from all the laughing. Laura started telling him about the incident in the library today " I was planning on finishing my essay in the library, but-" she stopped mid-sentence, looking at the smiling face of her best friend, Regulus Black was not the guy who smiled and laughed just as much as a normal person, she didn't want to kill his mood by the mention of his annoying brother and his friends. "But?" Regulus pressed on confused, Laura thought fast "But I had finished my bottle of ink and didn't have an extra bottle on me." Laura lied with a sheepish smile, that was one of her talents; resourcefulness. She could lie as easily as anyone could breathe. However, Regulus shook his head at his friend's silliness and couldn't help but smile, as he laid down on the couch placing his legs on his friend's lap, who didn't bother pushing them off. Laura went back to writing her essay before glancing at the warm flames dancing in the fireplace of the Slytherin Common Room. Regulus had drifted off to sleep as he was woken up an hour later by his best friend gently shaking his shoulders. He sat straight up "I should go to my dorm, goodnight Laura." He said in a sleepy voice as he stood up and made his way to the staircase that led to the boy's dormitories Laura nodded as she put her books in her bag saying "Goodnight Reg".

Want to read it on Wattpad? No problem here you go

All the characters (except Laura Lestrange) and places mentioned in this story belong to J K Rowling. So I’ve posted a few chapters of this stories on Wattpad, but I’ve got a lot of it already written down, I’ll try to post any new chapters on Tumblr as soon as I can. Please reblog, it would be very appreciated and my requests are open

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goodbyevanny · 5 years ago

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All-girls school AU - Good Omens

This has since been edited and posted on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201279/chapters/53005516

Writer’s note: I saw a prompt on tumblr, and it hit me hard, as I went to an all-girls Catholic school and definitely did my fair share of pining over my best friend. That said, I’m in the US, in a very specific part of the country. So, in the spirit of write-what-you-know, the setting is in the US, and you will see some culture references to that. Keep in mind this is an AU. I’m gonna be honest, this is just a lotta self-indulgent wish fulfillment and me working through my own issues.

Summary: Aziraphale Angeles has been given a fresh start as a first year at prestigious all-girls Catholic school and she LOVES it. She’s finally being left alone by her family, and she loves her uniform, her books, her tea. It’s practically Eden, if only she didn’t keep running into that trouble maker, Antonia J. Crowley! She does NOT need more questions in her life...

Rating: T

Warnings: Main characters both experiencing and participating in fat-shaming, homophobia, transphobia. Aziraphale grew up in a very religious, patriarchal household and her views will be in line with that upbringing. Of course, this will change through the story.

It will begin, as always, in a garden.

It was the second week of starting at Immaculate Conception Preparatory Academy for Girls, and Aziraphale Angeles was feeling guilty over just how much she was enjoying herself. When the term had started, she hadn’t been sure as to what to expect, but so far it was surprisingly, well, wonderful.

Honestly, she had expected to hate it. The Holy Angels University system was designed to so that you could spend the entirety of your academic career within it (and, in her family’s case, even after) and Aziraphale had known from when she was very young that she very likely would. This meant that entering high school was a simple matter of walking up a very steep hill to a new building. Her classmates, for the most part, had transitioned with her, and of course, she had a plethora of cousins in the school as well.

She had anticipated her troubles from her younger years following her here, schoolyard taunts of ‘Azira-FAIL’ echoing in her head. She’d imagined being ostracized at lunch, eating at the end of a table filled with family and their friends, only being acknowledged with the occasional snide comment about how much she was eating, and how she never pulled her nose out of a book.

But it hadn’t been like that at all. First, the homeroom that she had been placed in had none of her former classmates. As the most prestigious private school system in the city, students from all over matriculated in, not just from the associated middle school, so there had been plenty of new students to meet.

Even better, her homeroom was presided over by the head of the Theology department, which was always one of Aziraphale’s best subjects, and she’d managed to impress her professor on the first day. She was given the job of class rep, and that alone had given her the kind of protection and independence she had craved in her younger years. At first student council meeting she received a gold brooch with the emblem of the institution: a heart, encircled by thorns, pierced by a sword, wreathed in flames. Aziraphale had wrinkled her nose when she had received it, annoyed by the heavy-handed, overlapping imagery. But even so, she felt proud to have it shining on her lapel.

It wasn’t just the pin she loved; it was the whole uniform. Her brand new oxfords, with the sharp contrast of white and black. The silky feel of her stark-white summer knee-highs. Her brand-new summer uniform, the polyester skirt in inverse eternity tartan, with the matching camel colored tartan blazer and tartan bowknot tie. Her starched linen blouse, neatly tucked in, and large white grosgrain bow, perched like wings atop her perfect high ponytail. Or at least, her attempt at a perfect high ponytail. She found her white-blonde curls rather refused even the most maximum hold gel or hair spray, so by the end of the day a cloud of frizz had usually fought free it’s constraints and made it look like a haze or halo around her head.

Also, the high school was much more lax in how it corralled its students. Meaning, classes were held at regular times, and it was up to you to make sure you attended the correct number of sessions every week; other than that, your day was free for independent study. Aziraphale was allowed now to spend almost the entire day in the library, or quiet classrooms with cozy window nooks for reading. Combining that with her class rep pin, which allowed her to roam the halls as needed, she felt free for the first time in her life. It was heady.

Her evenings had been a delight of tea and cocoa, cozy blankets and books now that she had moved into the dorm. Her cousins, including Michael, were all in the upper years’ dorms, so after dinner, she didn’t even have to see them. Even better, some combination of her family’s connections and her pristine academic record had scored her a single room. The only thing that had disturbed her peace so far had been the loud music coming from the room across the narrow hall, but even that had been turned down when she knocked on the door, without her needing to say anything.

She knew this peace wouldn’t last, but for now it was all just so lovely.

Now, two weeks in, she was comfortable in her routine. She was in the back of Professor Tracy’s classroom, where there were several very cozy chairs set on a plush, if worn out, rug. It was one of her favorite classrooms so far; set on the third floor, overlooking the school’s science building and extensive gardens. The chairs were set in front of an unlit fireplace that probably didn’t even work, but Aziraphale thought gave a nice ambiance to the room. She was quite comfortable and, having already completed attending the necessary lectures earlier in the week, full intended to camp out in this chair for the rest of the day. She’d plugged in the electric kettle on the nearby shelf, intending to enjoy a cup of tea with the pastry she smuggled out of breakfast in her handkerchief. She’d gone so far as to carefully unlace her oxfords and set them next to her book bag, so she could tuck her feet under her.

Today she intended to begin on the recommended reading list that had been provided to her by the terrifying University library assistant, and had checked out the few books that were carried by the high school library. While she waited for the kettle to be ready, she stared out the diamond paned windows that arched upwards, almost reaching the painted tin ceiling. It was probably the best view on Mt. Eden, overlooking the gardens and orchards that tumbled down the hillside to the valley below. Her eyes traced the highway that hugged one side of the mountain, only to then twist away into the distance, raised high above the valley so it nestled between the treetops.

She could see dark clouds gathering at the edge of the valley and could see it would likely rain soon. Thankfully, she didn’t have any classes in the science building, which was detached, but she had her white ruffled umbrella with her anyway, and thought she might come up with some sort of excuse to go outside with it later today. Her brother had brought it back from Japan, and she was somewhat eager to use it, even if it wasn’t really needed.

She had just settled in with her cup of tea, taken a bite of the pastry, and read the first page of Dangerous Angels when Professor Tracy interrupted.

She hadn’t meant to interrupt her, of course. Instead, the teacher who was rapidly becoming her favorite professor was standing at the windows, peering down in the direction of the orchards. “Oh no, Mr. Shadwell. Ohhh leave them alone, they’re fine,” she fretted, and then finally reached for the hand crank to open the window. As soon as it was swung open, she was calling out and waving, “Mr. Shadwell! Mr. Shadwell! Oh dear, I don’t think he hears me, Sargeant Shadwell!”

Well. There would be no reading through that nonsense. Aziraphale untucked her feet and wandered in her socks up to the window to look out, and immediately saw the problem. From this vantage point, it was easy to see the three girls lounging in the stone circle at the center of the orchard, and farther up the hill, the insufferable Mr. Shadwell making his rounds. The last call out of Professor Tracy had stopped him in his tracks, leading him to stand, eyes roving over the building, looking for the offending distraction.

There was no time to waste. Aziraphale was already back in her chair, shoving her feet in her oxfords and desperately tying up her laces. She’d have to leave her things, but she thought it would probably be fine, as Professor Tracy and her had an understanding...and with one last glance around she snatched up her umbrella and ran out of the room.

Aziraphale hated running. It conjured up the worst memories for her, sweating and taunted in gym class, in white T-shirt that she felt was unnecessarily tight. Michael, her cousin, laughing and pinching the flesh above where Aziraphale’s gym shorts dug in. “Like a fat frosted cupcake,” she teased, and the nickname had stuck. It had taken over a year before Aziraphale could eat cupcakes again without furious tears. (Not that she had give up eating them, though, because Michael was not taking that away from her too. She just sniffled through through deliciousness.)

Yet now she was running, out of the classroom, down the hall, and then down the stairs in leaps and bounds, taking multiple steps at a time and then out outside, down more steps towards the STEM building and the accompanying gardens. She had recognized one of the students from the orchard immediately: Eve. They’d met in homeroom, and had started a tentative friendship; at any rate, Eve saved her a seat every morning and afternoon in their homeroom.

The heat outside was oppressive, even with the increasingly storm dark skies, the humidity instantly freeing wisps of curls to halo her face and fluffing her ponytail. She tried to smooth the white blond strands back against her scalp even as she ducked behind an impressive hedge of oleander, trying to see where Shadwell had gotten off to. She sighted him as she passed the long line of towering cypress that ran alongside the driveway behind the school. He was shouting up at Professor Tracy, who was hanging partly out the window, obviously hoping to catch the notice of the students and get them to move. Shadwell sounded apoplectic, and was alternating between stomping his feet and vigorously pointing at the professor.

Aziraphale hurried down the limestone steps at the edge of the slope to the gravel path that wound through the orchard, gritting her teeth as sweat began to drip between her breasts and collect along the underwire of her bra. Eve and her were going to have words this afternoon in homeroom over this.

When she reached the stone circle, she pulled up short. Eve was there, sure enough, with her long dark curls, lustrous eyes and smooth complexion. Aziraphale couldn’t help but return a helpless smile as Eve caught sight of her and grinned, a mischievous brow arching. But Aziraphale’s smile faltered when she caught sight of Eve’s company. First, there was a boy. Wearing their uniform, no less. Where had he even gotten it? From Eve? What was she thinking? If she was caught with a boy they would be expelled! And her other friend—Aziraphale gave this second girl a look over. “Good Lord,” she muttered.

This second girl lounged on the stone benches that made up the ring of circle, long legs spread out before her and weight resting on one arm, while the other was propped up on her bent knee. The only thing that kept it from being ridiculously lewd was that she wasn’t wearing the skirt uniform. Instead, she was wearing the pants, in the black eternity tartan, completely out of season. Her matching blazer had been tossed over the bench behind her. Her shirt was untucked and her tie was tied like a boy’s. She was wearing what were likely very fashionable sunglasses, because they looked ridiculous, and her head tipped back so she could look down her nose at Aziraphale as if Aziraphale was the one that deserved to be judged.

But, worst of all, was her hair. Loose, like Eve’s, but carefully styled, deep red curls. It hung down her back in ringlets, and Aziraphale was sure it wasn’t naturally that color. No one had the right to that much color, on their head, it was obscene, and wasn’t that just the perfect word for this creature, she thought, as her eyes traced down the long line of her tanned throat, and did she have her top button undone?!?

Eve was laughing, “Oh c’mon, if you glare any harder you’ll burn a hole through them,” and the floozy had the gall to smirk.

Aziraphale whirled around to face Eve, hands on her hips, white umbrella still clutched tightly in one hand.”Have you lost your mind? What are you doing down here? With a boy?” She threw out an arm and waved it up and down to encompass the offending human, who was adjusting a pointless, but lovely, matching headband on their shaved head.

“Oh? Jealous already, Azira?” Aziraphale stepped back and her mouth fell open, eyes wide. “What? No! Of course not! I just,” and hold on, she wasn’t the one out of line here. “BOY!” she snapped back, and gestured again.

“It’s just Adam. We’ve been friends forever, Adam having such a time of it at the boys’ school, and Tony had the brilliant idea to have them hang out with us here! I mean, if they’re in uniform, and we just hung out in open classes, how would anyone even tell? We’re firsties, professors don’t even know us yet, really.”

There was so much wrong with that statement, and too little time to unpack it all. “You and I are going to have a talk after study hours tonight. But for now, Shadwell is doing his rounds, and you all need to get out of here,” she could already hear him cursing and sliding on the gravel at the top of the orchard. Tony–of course this delinquent would have a boy’s name–looked up the hill in what might have been a vaguely interested way, but it was impossible to really tell with those stupid sunglasses. Then, quick as a snake, she was up on her feet and was exiting the circle, one hand saluting with a “Ciao.” She slipped between the trees and was gone.

Aziraphale rolled her eyes, and went to follow, but Shadwell had spotted them. “I see you, ladies, stay where you are! Miss Angeles!” He was in sight of them now, but was slowed by the steep incline of the gravel path.

“Oh!” Aziraphale spun in a circle, fretting, and finally her hands flew to the gold brooch on her lapel. “Oh no,” she lamented, but there was nothing for it. She unfastened it and then quickly reattached it to Eve’s blazer. “Stay behind us,” she told the boy, who wisely hadn’t said anything so far, thank the good Lord, because she didn’t think she’d be able to handle any more idiocy at this point.

They barely had time to turn around when Shadwell burst through the bushes. “Out of class!” he spat. “Smoking? Drinking?”

“Please, Sergeant Shadwell, I think you know me a good deal better than that.” Aziraphale stepped forward.

She hated “cheating” in this way, but she also knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle to get Shadwell to get him to let this go. Angelic influence was required. And by that she meant, of course, the Angeles family name. Her family was the founding benefactors and remained the principal donors to the Holy Angels University System, and being a part of that family did come with certain privileges.

“Eve is a class rep with me, and um, Professor Tracy saw this student out of bounds so we were sent to escort them back in. For demerits,” she said, nervously tucking wisps of her white-blond hair behind ears.

Eve stepped forward and tapped the badge for good measure, trying to distract Shadwell from getting too close of a look at her companion. Although, Aziraphale really wished she hadn’t, because now Shadwell would ask—

“Hrmph. And where’s yours, then?”

“Oh, um,” Aziraphale glanced around like she actually expected to see it lying on one of the stone benches, and not like it was pinned to Eve’s blazer plain as day. “It’s around somewhere. Forget my own head next,” she smiled and laughed weakly, and prayed Shadwell didn’t ask why the girl behind them had no hair and broad shoulders. She was delivered, though, by a single distant bell toll. “Oh goodness, we need to get going to our next class! Thank you Sergeant, you’ll take over patrolling where we left off, yes? Ok!” And then she was steering Eve and the boy forcefully up the gravel path, through the break in the crumbling stone wall around the orchard.

It wasn’t until they were back in the building, the halls crowded with students passing to their next class that her heart started to calm. They followed her as she ducked down a side stairwell that lead to the basement level and pushed open the door on the distant side of Mt. Eden. The slope would lead to the bridge that connected their crest of Mt. Eden to the lower hill of the boys’ school.

She turned to Eve. “Ok, you have to get him back to his own school, he can absolutely not be here when classes let out for the day. All in all, this was a terrible idea and I can’t believe you let that girl tempt you into it!”

“Azira, thank you so much for coming to get us—

“No, best not thank me, I do feel a bit like I’m sending you into the lions’ den. I have no idea how you’re going to get him back on campus.”

Eve reached up to her lapel and began to unfasten the pin, but Aziraphale reached out and covered her hand with her own to stop her. “Oh, no need to worry about that. You can get it back to me another time. You better hold on to it for now, it might be useful.”

Eve smiled, dazzling Aziraphale, and then threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly, and for a moment Aziraphale was breathless. Just as quick, Eve stepped back and took up Adam’s hand, and pushed open the door. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

“You better!” Called out Aziraphale, but then the door swung shut with a heavy snap, and she wasn’t sure if she’d been heard. It seemed too final, and she wanted to see that Eve and that stupid boy were safe, so she headed up the stairs. She cleared the basement level, then passed the stairwell entrances that lead to the classrooms, one, two, three, floors. Here, a red velvet rope cordoned off the stairway, like an exclusive club awaited beyond, and she awkwardly stepped over it. When the staircase turned again for the next level, the marble steps gave way to concrete. There was a heavy wood door here, with a keyhole, but she knew it would open for her. She pushed it and now she was in an empty storage space, under the sloped roof of her school. It smelled musty and old, it was hot, but stronger than that was the sharp scent of cedar, which paneled the entire space; roof, floors, walls. All intended to drive away the moths, she supposed, because stacked floor to ceiling, across the wide space, were hundreds of books, stacked to the roof, forming twisting corridors interspersed with antique furniture. Aziraphale left this all ignored and picked her way through until she came to a ladder against the wall.

Looping her umbrella over her wrist, she climbed up until it reached the hatch in the roof, and leveraged it open with a strong, firm shoulder against it. It gave, flinging open and she made her way through. She was in the bell tower; the large brass ladies hanging heavy overhead, a choir of sixteen, ropes strung across the soaring space overhead. Aziraphale spread them only a quick glance of appreciation before she opened the side door and headed out onto the roof.

The roof was bordered by a white limestone crenelation, and Aziraphale stood behind one of the merlons to stay hidden from anyone looking up from the ground. She could see Eve and the boy approaching the bridge. Mercifully, it was cooler up here. She wasn’t sure if that was because the roof was able to better pick up the increasing breeze, or if it was because the storm was finally closing in. She reached up to smooth down her frizz against her head to no avail. She could feel it instantly curling back up.

“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” and Aziraphale wasn’t surprised to see Eve’s friend sauntering up to her. Because of course she would know how to get up here.

“I’m sorry, what,” snipped Aziraphale, already at her wit’s end with this girl.

“I said, ‘that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Oh, yes, rather,” snarked Aziraphale, because honestly, whose fault was that?

“Well it just seems a bit of an overreaction if you ask me, handing out demerits for sitting outside.”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Yes, sitting outside and demerits, that’s definitely what you had Eve risk,” she said with another head to toe look over of Tony that shouted, you are as slow as you are pretty. A second lookover did not improve her opinion. Tony was still in the eternity tartan pants and black blazer, with her tie tied like a boy’s. As the breeze whipped her deep red curls back, away from her graceful neck, Aziraphale noticed a pair of long black snake earrings, twisting in loops down from her ears and definitely longer than allowed by the student handbook.

“Seems a bit ridiculous, though. Big stone seating area in the middle of an orchard, why put a bunch of benches up if you don’t want anyone to sit there? Why give us all this free time and the ability to sort our own schedules if they don’t trust us to go inside to class when we’re supposed to?

“Oh for g—for goodness sake, you brought a boy on campus! Eve could have been expelled!”

Tony smirked. “Eve, huh?” And anyway, the point is that we wouldn’t have even been noticed if we were allowed to sit outside. Doesn’t make much sense does it?”

Aziraphale could feel her face hearing. “Best not to question things. The rules are the rules, and they’re not that hard to follow. Just because something seems ineffable, doesn’t mean that it isn’t right.”

“Ineffable? Did you really just throw the word “ineffable” into conversation, just like that?”

Aziraphale answered with a glare.

“Just trying to give you some trouble,” she said, giving a blinding white smile.

“Well, I dare say you’ve succeeded. What were you thinking, bringing a boy on campus? And dressing him in our uniform, have you lost your mind?”

She paused because she could see how, across the bridge and down the hill, she could see Eve and the boy duck behind a crumbling stone wall as campus security drove by in a golf cart.

“A boy? You mean Adam?”

She really should have reported this girl when she had the chance. “YES. HIM. Who else would I mean?”

Tony shrugged and leaned her shoulder and hip against the merlon next to Aziraphale’s, somehow lounging while still upright. “I dunno. Adam’s probably more a girl than me, I figure. They certainly look better in a skirt.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but glance down at Tony’s long legs, somehow making tartan pants look fashionable. They would just have to agree to disagree about that one. When her eyes came back up, Tony was smirking again, and the heat of the day seemed to have returned. Lightning flashed in the far distance, and they could see a curtain of rain begin to steadily make its way across the valley below.

“They’re going to get caught,” fretted Aziraphale, and she wasn’t sure if she meant in the rain or by security. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Tony took off her sunglasses, hooking the arm of them in the V of her linen blouse, which only emphasised that yes, she really had left the top button undone. She peered down the hill and then back to Aziraphale, and frowned. “Aren’t you a class rep?”

Aziraphale’s brain had short circuited the moment she had met Tony’s eyes, no longer hidden by the sunglasses. ”What?”

‘“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” Tony asked, reaching out and twirling a finger over Aziraphale’s lapel, thumb smoothing over the spot the material still indented in. “I’m sure you did. It was glittery as anything.”

Aziraphale had never seen anything like her eyes. Like harvest moons, golden to the point of glowing. “Oh, um. Yes.”

“Lost it in the mad dash, huh? Or did Shadwell confiscate it?”

And there was that damnable smirk again, which finally broke her out of the spell of Tony’s eyes. “Well, if you must know, I gave it to Eve,” she huffed, her face burning under Tony’s scrutiny.

“You what?!” Asked Tony, her smirk dropping into an open mouthed, genuine laugh.

“I gave it to Eve! She was trying to take Adam all the way back to the boys school, it’s dangerous! If she’s caught she could be expelled! So I said take the pin, don’t thank me, could help you get out of a tight spot, and don’t forget to be back before you’re missed. Oh, I do hope I made the right decision.”

Tony started to roll her eyes, seemed to remember she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and abruptly turned to look for Eve again. “Oh, I’m not sure an angel like you can do the wrong thing.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank a bit. Angel? What does she mean by that? Not that she cared what this delinquent thought of her, but she had thought she was being judged on the basis of her own merits, not by her family name.

“Well, thank you for the reassurance, I guess,” her ingrained good manners forcing her response. Lightning flashed, immediately followed by a boom crack of thunder overhead. The curtain of rain swept up the mountain, obscuring their view of Eve and that idiot Adam. Aziraphale hurried to open the umbrella and with a flick of her eyes, communicated to Tony she should step under it. Not a moment too soon, because the rain poured down around them. It was a tight fit, and Aziraphale could feel the heat from Tony’s body seeping into her body, from shoulder to hip.

They stayed there together, eyes straining to see their friends through the storm.

TBC

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years ago

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Fraxus Anastasia au #2

Second chapter time! If you wanna read it on ao3, here u go: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144866

Chapter under the cut!

Apparently, being too much of a stubborn bastard is enough for an orphanage to throw you out even though you still own them a lot of money. 'Yuliy', they've dubbed him, 'son of Jupiter', because his character is volatile like the thunderstorms that leave the grey walls of the orphanage shaking.

He's twenty-three and luckily enough, not the sickly little boy he used to be. Finding a job would've been difficult otherwise, but right now Yuliy feels pretty confident about his future. The past has nothing for him, so he has no other choice but to look forward.

Ignoring the yammering of the old caretaker about how he should feel lucky that they let him go even though he cost them so much as a child, he sets a step outside the gate.

The distance he's crossed is close to nothing, he still feels elated. Turning around, he yells "So long, sucker!" at the old lady and waves at the tiny children behind her. The brats can't help their situation. "You can be happy all you want right now, but just you wait until the evening! Until the cold settles in your bones and your stomach turns itself inside out of hunger. You're nothing boy, keep that in mind!"

Scoffing, he walks away, turning his back on all he's ever known. Everything is going to be fine.

Everything's not fine and Yuliy already regrets leaving the orphanage. Sure, it was a shitty place, but at least there was a fireplace to lay beside. Although the food had been sparse and not very good, it had been there. He never imagined that he'd miss the place.

Unfortunately, he's also not been able to find a job. The restaurants tell him to ask the grocery stores, the grocery stores point him towards the butchers and the butchers refer him to the nearest school, before saying that, actually, he doesn't look like an educated person and should probably stay away from there. If he survives the night, he'll try the docks. They probably could use him as some sort of human mule, if his motion sickness allows him to set foot on a boat.

For now, he wanders the streets in search of abandoned buildings, hoping that he can squat in one of them for the night. After a lot of unsuccesful trying, he decides to go find a large public building, in the hope that he can find himself a nook there where no one will look. With that in mind, he enters the first large building he finds.

It's dusty, spacey and completely empty. Exactly what he'd been looking for and still he can't help but be a little bit disgruntled. He'd just given up on finding an empty space and now he has more abandoned space than he nows what to do with. Although he'd like to explore the building, he has more pressing matters to tend to.

Navigating through the building is... surprisingly easy. It's not like him to know his way around places (it really, really isn't his forte), but he manages to find a lounge without too many troubles. Shoving some junk to the side, he finds a fireplace and he thanks his lucky stars. Looking around, he concludes that there's no firewood.

That's not really a problem though, he thinks as he grabs a nearby chair. When the now demolished chair has been chucked into the fireplace, he remembers that he has no way of lighting the damn pile of wood up. After turning the room upside down, he comes to the conclusion that there aren't any matchsticks there. Groaning in frustration, he leaves the room.

Trudging through the halls, he passes various doors and has to suppress the urge to go inside each and every one of them. Now and then, he does indulge in his desire and peeks inside, finding nothing but dust and the remnants of former glory.

When he stumbles upon a set of doors that are so grandiose and tall that he nearly doubts his own eyesight, he knows that he has to look what lays behind them. Filled with curiousity he works them open, only to be stunned into silence when the room behind them is revealed.

It's a ballroom, stately and majestic and he holds his breath for a minute, intimidated by the feeling of veneration and wistfulness that seems to hit him out of nowhere. Getting lightheaded, he sits down on a bench and closes his eyes, slowly breathing in and out. He can feel a headache coming up as shivers run up and down his spine. When he opens his eyes again, he suspects that he's also getting a fever, since what else can the scene before him be except for a fever dream?

Faintly he can hear the band playing a song and the more he tries to convince himself his ears are deceiving him, the more boisterous the music becomes. Right before his eyes, the formerly empty ballroom explodes into a a colourful affair, ladies and gentlemen dressed to the nines. In the light of the candles on the chandelier dangling high above them, he can see their jewelry and the rhinestones on their dresses shimmer and shine.

Besides the music, he can hear their small talk and it's that what haunts him most. The little words about their everyday lives that seem to happen in a reality far outside his own. The glitter, the glamour, the nauseating feeling of approaching danger, it's all too much. He leans his head back against the cold tiles and closes his eyes, but their ghostly whispers remain present.

In the distance, he can hear another group of people arriving and he decides to focus on their conversation, because the disdain in one of the voices sounds genuine, almost like the owner of said voice is actually entering the ballroom.

"They were all godawful! I can't believe we wasted a full day on those monstrosities!" Someone snorts. "You can't talk about those fine and ambitious young men like that baby, they can't help it that they're like that." Yuliy can hear the eyeroll before he sees it and he still thinks he's imagining things, until the young man speaks to him, ice lacing his voice. The otherwordly images shatter and instead he's met by a greenhaired young man.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

At first he intends to be polite. Then he remembers that this place belongs to no one and there's absolutely no need for a stranger to be so hostile to him. "They call me Yuliy and I'm gonna take a nap. You got any matches?"

Ignoring his question, the shorter of the two men draws closer, his lips curving into the hint of a smile lacking any sort of genuine warmth. "They call you that? Is that name not truly yours then?" Instead of answering, Yuliy purses his lips and looks away. Truthfully, he doesn't even know to answer that. Not even once he's felt like 'Yuliy', but he doesn't know what the other options are. Who else is he supposed to be? Can he even be anything else?

The short man smiles again, wider this time and there's still not a trace of genuine happiness to see there. His companion, thank the lord, has finally noticed his creepy tick and slaps the man a little too jovially on the back. "Freed, stop whatever your face is doing, it's unsightly. You look like a maniac and let's be honest, the only one of us who looks good with that kind of look is yours truly. Show the man around, why don't ya? I'm gonna pick Ever up. You know how prissy she gets when she hasn't had a hot meal in a few days." With a sloppy kiss on Freed's cheek and a "bye baby!" the eccentric man leaves.

A silence that's less than comfortable follows. "So are you two...involved?" He winces at his clumsy wording and Freed pulls a face. "Bickslow is my overly affectionate older brother."

"Oh."

How does he recover from that blunder? Luckily enough for him, he doesn't have to struggle out of this pit himself. "Well then he-who-they-call-Yuliy, follow me. I'll show you something interesting." Unable to keep the curiousity out of his voice, he asks: "What then?" For the first time since meeting him, there's a sparkle of a genuine feeling in the man's eyes, misschief setting the blues ablaze. "A chance."

The first part of the tour consists of polite smalltalk and Freed showing him some superficial treasures hidden in plain view in the abandoned castle. Although he hates the whole process of talking without saying anything, he feels that there's a reason Freed is doing this. Building up the tension. Yuliy hopes he isn't endlessly disappointed by the eventual result and in the hope to see something spectacular, he nods along and 'ahs' and 'oohs' wherever he thinks it's necessary.

"You know", Freed starts and something about his tone tips Yuliy off that it's probably in his best interest to listen carefully now. "I wasn't born as Freed Justine either. Unlike you, I have chosen this name for myself and have found my identity." He pauses then, looking him over with a reserved gaze, head tilted. "Would you like to find yours?"

The question arrives like a punch to the gut, but there's no way he'll let the man in front of him know how affected he is by it. Freed seems like the type of man to unravel his deepest wishes and dangle them before his nose before whisking them away for eternity. No way that he'll let the stranger in on one of the things his heart longs to know. "I don't need some guy I just met telling me who I am. I think I can do that on my own, thank you very much."

"Really now?" Freed sounds amused, but there's a cruel hint to it that he really dislikes. "My dear Yulik (he scoffs at the godawful nickname), right at this moment I am able to recall your entire family tree up to seven generations back. But since you already know exactly who you are, I guess there's no reason to showcase my academic capabilities. It would be quite obnoxious I think, wouldn't you agree?"

No way. He must be lying and Yuliy doesn't hesitate to tell him so. "You're a liar, a scoundrel and an opportunist. You're making shit up and I'm not here for it. I'll go back to the other room and take that nap, you're not of any use to me."

"Do as you please", the man replies, voice light and airy. Right as he's about to leave the room, he hears the other man humming. The melody is saccharinely sweet and the gentle lilts in the tune leave his heart aching. "Where'd you learn that song?" he asks, unable and unwilling to stop himself. Freed halts his humming and shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The true question is, where did you learn it? As far as I know there's only five people, excluding myself, who know it. The first being the long dead Tsarina Tatiana, the second one being the current tsar Makarov. The third and fourth are Bickslow and Evergreen, two members of the court that were very intimately related to the final person, the central piece that connects all these dots."

Grinning he takes Yuliy by the arm and drags him towards a grand family portrait and points out a blond kid. "Prince Laxus Dreyar, who has been missing for 10 years. I know where each of the forementioned people currently are, except for the much beloved prince." From underneath his long eyelashes he gives Yuliy a look that he's sure is meant to be meaningful. He utterly rejects it.

"A lullaby? That's what you're basing your grand conclusion on? Some great detective you are", he scoffs and considers giving the man a whack. It certainly couldn't make his mental state any worse than it currently was, considering Freed seriously thought that Yuliy, clumsy, oafish Yuliy, was the missing crown prince.

"I never told you it was a lullaby."

"It was a logical assumption, you piece of shit." Sensing that Yuliy is believing none of it, he shakes his head and sighs. "When did you become an orphan?" Defensively, he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Maybe I didn't and you're just grasping at straws."

"It was a logical assumption, dear Yulik. Also, you let a lot more slip during our smalltalk than you probably realised." The man raises a brow and starts counting on his fingers. " One. You lost your memory ten years ago, around the time of Ivan's failed coup. Trauma can make you suppress memories as can a strategically placed whack against the head."

Yuliy rolls his eyes, but Freed continues impertubable. "Secondly, the whole lullaby debacle. Thirdly..." Freed looks him directly in the eyes and there's something so striking about the full force of his gaze, that Yuliy barely dares to breathe. "You know, don't you? In your heart you realise that there's a chance I'm not wrong. Even though your mind denies it out of some learned humility, your body takes to it without you even noticing."

Before he can ask what the man means, Freed drapes a heavy cape he's found somewhere over Yuliy's shoulders and presses a scepter into his hand. "Look", he whispers and turns him towards a mirror. "Look at your posture, do you truly believe you're merely a peasant?"

"Future tsar", he continues and the title sends shivers down his spine. "You came here, dirt poor and yet you have not put a single treasure into these pockets of yours." To accentuate his words, the man lets his hands glide over each and every pocket on Yuliy's clothes, an action that makes his blood run hot. "The riches here mean nothing you. You're meant for things better than this, aren't you prince Laxus? Cast away the skin of a peasant you've decided to wear and reunite with your grieving grandfather."

The blue of his eyes is absolutely mesmerising and he can't for the love of him look away. "Laxus", he says and he jolts, truly feeling addressed by the name. "Let's get you home." He doesn't know how or why, but he's got the feeling that Freed could tell him anything and he'd believe it.

#fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freedxlaxus #Bickslow #anastasia au #TheFairyWrites

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timelordthirteen · 5 years ago

Text

In All Things 9/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: With winter nearly upon them, Belle decides to take one last walk in the garden where the opportunity presents itself to clear the air with Gold.

Notes: Holy crap I cannot believe I got this done. Sorry it's so short, but today was bananas. I barely had a chance to read this over before posting, so my apologies for the 754 typos that I'm sure there are that I'm not seeing. Please point them out in the comments or message me. For the 31 Days prompt #11: peace.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Belle awoke early the next morning to Thornhill bustling with activity.

The snowfall amounted to no more than a dusting, lightly covering every surface. Winter was most definitely on its way, and everyone was anxious to finish preparations. There were outbuildings that need last minute repairs and boarding up, food stores for the animals that needed to be moved into the stables, and extra wood needed to be chopped and stacked for the fireplaces. Inside, the maids were switching out the lighter window curtains for darker, heavier fabrics that would help keep out the drafts and the cold that seemed to radiate from the glass when it frosted over.

Belle took breakfast in her room, and then dressed in her favorite winter dress, a red wool blend that laced up the front, with a light gray blouse underneath. She dug her wool stockings out of one of the unpacked trunks, and wore them with her knee high boots. There was a matching red and silver cloak in a double layer wool that would keep her comfortable enough for a walk in the garden, probably her last of the season.

The sun was warm on her face and she tipped her face up, smiling, as she stepped off the stone patio into the cold, dry grass. It crunched lightly beneath her boots, and she looked around, marveling at how the landscape had changed in such a short time. Snow had settled in all the nooks and crannies of the trees and plants, making the colors of the few remaining flowers even more vibrant, and she wished she had thought to bring a pair of sheers with her so she could trim a few of the roses.

She came up to the fountain, which was now shut off for the winter to keep it from freezing, and stopped abruptly. Gold was seated at one end of the bench, his right leg stretched out and propped up on the heel of his boot. He was bent over and seemed to be rubbing at his knee, and she wondered if he’d slipped somehow and hurt himself. She hadn’t planned out what she wanted to say to him yet, but then he was turning and looking at her with a surprised expression.

“Belle,” he said, straightening.

His gaze was soft and his lips were very slightly curved, and it struck her that he looked almost as he did when she’d walked into the garden at Avonlea for their wedding.

The memory made her smile and she stepped up to peek into the fountain, finding it dry and with the same light covering of snow as everything else. “Hello.”

“What brings you out here?”

She shrugged and moved to sit beside him, her hands tucked into the inner pockets of her cloak. “Just thought I would get in one last stroll before it’s all buried under snow and ice.” He nodded at that, looking down at his boots, and she licked her lips before asking, “What about you?”

“Oh, I just needed some air,” he replied, giving her a quick glance. “And I needed to get out of the noise of the house for a few minutes.”

She smiled in understanding, having felt her nerves unsettled by frenetic energy with the walls of the manor. “There is an awful lot going on today.”

“Yes,” Gold agreed. “There’s always so much to do and it always seems to wait until the last minute.”

Belle sighed. “I think sometimes we’re in denial about winter until that first snow, and then there’s something of a mad panic to prepare, and everyone tries to do two weeks worth of work in two days.”

He chuckled. “And yet every year we swear we won’t wait so long the next year.”

She grinned and ducked her head. “It seems to be the way of things doesn’t it, almost a tradition.”

“Indeed.” He rubbed at his knee again and then shifted in his seat.

“Is - is your leg alright?” she asked, finally. Gold turned to look at her, his eyes moving over her face, and she felt uncomfortably scrutinized. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

His head tilted slightly, and the corner of his mouth curved. “I don’t mind at all, and it’s - fine, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Her eyebrows lifted, and he shrugged. “And old injury of sorts, it comes and goes, and doesn’t take kindly to being cramped in a carriage for too long.”

Belle frowned and reached for his hand on impulse, covering it with hers and giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

His hand felt startlingly warm for his having been outside so long, but then she was also one of those people who felt the cold more acutely than others. Perhaps he just ran hot, like her father.

Gold looked down at her hand, almost surprised to see it there and even more so to feel the gentle gesture of comfort when she held it tight. He swallowed and licked at his lips. “It’s no matter,” he managed, his gaze moving up to meet hers.

Abruptly, she pulled her hand away and he missed the contact immediately.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, turning away from Gold.

She knew what she needed to ask, but the words were sticking on her tongue. She hated this awkwardness between them, and feeling so unsettled in the place that was to be her home for the rest of her life. It was impossible to live this way, wandering aimlessly with no purpose, always being on the outside. Despite how much she was coming to like Baeden, Jefferson, and Grace, it wasn’t enough, and with nothing to ground her she feared that by the end of the winter she’d become the crazy woman who kept to her room all day and forgot to wash her hair. The breath she inhaled was shaky and she pressed a hand to her mouth, letting her eyes close for a moment as she tried to calm herself.

Gold heard her distress and shifted closer, cautiously inching his hand towards her. “Belle?”

She sniffled and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” he said, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are you - are you not happy here?”

Belle turned around, surreptitiously brushing her fingertips at the corner of her eye where there was the barest hint of a tear. “I don’t know what I am.” He frowned, and she sighed heavily, running her hand over her hair and smoothing back a strand that had sprung free of the clip at the back of her head.

“I thought - I mean - I don’t know what I mean.” Her eyes closed for a moment, and Gold gave her shoulder the same reassuring squeeze that she’d given his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.”

“It’s no matter.”

She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head. “You keep saying that, but it does matter. I know you don’t want a wife, not really, and that’s fine - more than fine, really - but I had hoped that we might - become friends?”

Gold gave her a small smile. “I’d like that very much.”

She twisted all the way around to face him, and took his hand in hers, sighing as the warmth seeped into her chilled fingers. “Then - then you have to let me know you, right?”

He sighed. “Belle, I - I don’t know how to do this. I’m not - I’m not good at - at people. Jefferson is basically my only friend, and even on my best day I’m a grumpy bastard.”

She let out a little laugh, and looked down at their joined hands. “I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

“Am I?” His voice was flat, and his expression was doubtful when she looked up. It made her laugh more, and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s helping, thank you.”

Belle collected herself after a moment, and when she met Gold’s gaze he was smiling, the lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He was as amiable as he was the day they met, and he seemed to have the same trouble that she did sometimes with being brave enough to say what needed to be said. Knowing that made her feel instantly better about the situation, and she silently resolved not to let it happen again if she could help it, even if she had to barge into his private study and make him talk to her. The thought of being able to do such a thing, however, made her cheeks heat.

She felt lighter already, and she trusted that Jefferson had been truthful with her. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.”

He shook his head. “No need to apologize. I’m sure it’s difficult moving away from home, and having to deal with not only living in a whole new place, but with people you don’t know.”

“But I want to know them,” she said, lifting their hands and letting them drop back in her lap. “And you don’t need to apologize either. You saved my home. Without the deal you made with my father, it would have been bankrupt, and then I’d have no home at all.”

Her eyes teared up at the edges, shining in the sunlight, and his breath caught. She looked perfectly happy and terribly sad at the same time, and utterly beautiful besides. For a long moment, he stared at her eyes, watching as they brightened, and when she blinked and sent a single drop trickling down her cheek, he reached up almost unconsciously and caught it with his thumb.

Belle stopped breathing as Gold brushed her tear away, the touch so tender and light that it wasn’t there at all. “Thank you.”

Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her, and all he could do was shake his head, hoping she knew that it wasn’t necessary. If anything he should have been thanking her for making the best of a situation he’d put her in, against her will, and then going to all the trouble of trying to make the best of it. She was far too good of a person for the likes of him.

He was at a loss for what to say, when a stiff, chilling wind swirled through the garden. Belle shivered, and he stood up, offering her his arm.

“Shall we head back to the house?”

“We probably should, yes,” she agreed, and slipped her arm through his. The warmth of him even though her cloak made her want to lean on him the whole way back, but she was mindful of his leg.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said as they came up to the edge of the patio and the doors into the drawing room. “I just need to find the right things to occupy me.”

“Like your books?” he asked, grinning crookedly as he nudged her side. “Or maybe my books?”

She bumped her arm against him in return, accepting his goodnatured teasing with a bemused smile. “Perhaps...”

They entered the house as Gold was still contemplating her words. It occurred to him, sadly for the first time, that in his effort to make sure she would want for nothing at Thornhill, that she lacked a purpose in the daily affairs of the house. At Avonlea she had helped organize the household and staff, and plan events. But here all that was done for her. A thought was forming in his mind, and though he wouldn’t be able to fully execute it until the spring, it already made him smile. He hoped that Belle would be amenable to it, and if she was, it would give her more than enough to do.

That evening, they gathered in the music room because it had less windows that their favorite drawing room, and two fireplaces besides. The space was large but it felt warm and cozy, almost intimate. Jefferson had decided to play a little tune on the piano, while Bae and Grace danced around. After a little bit, Belle joined them, and the three of them danced in a circle around the piano, then across the room to loop around Gold’s chair, and back again.

Gold sipped at a glass of brandy, grateful that the pain in his leg had faded before dinner, but returned with a vengeance an hour or so ago. The alcohol dulled it somewhat, but shortly he would need to retreat to his room and a hot bath. For now, he felt more at peace than he had in ages, and as he watched Belle tip her head back and laugh, he dared to hope that this winter might be brighter and warmer than usual.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #in all things #my rumbelle fic #fic #31 days #fandomas 2019

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frickengreenfrickyeah · 5 years ago

Text

Untitled Goose Story (Part 3)

Summary: Remus overhears an interesting conversation.

Warnings: Sympathetic Remus, mention of sickness, threat of hanging, implied warfare, goose shenanigans (tell me if I missed anything)

A/N: Longest one yet!

Word Count: 1710

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Part 3

Remus tugged at the tapestry with all their might, determined to tear it down before the servant returned to show her supervisor. But alas, fortune was not in a humble goose’s favor today, and the tapestry stayed firmly attached to the wall. Remus honked indignantly and waddled away to find something more cooperative to steal.

Tapestry was a new word for Remus. They were learning a lot of new words the longer they stayed in the human’s stone burrow, or castle as they had learned. They’d learned words like ‘the soldiers coming back from the front bear dour news’ and ‘that goose is getting away with the Prince’s supper’ as well as ‘the enemies are figuratively at our gates’ and ‘how did a goose get into the armory?’

Speaking of new words, Remus heard a few as they walked past another tapestry.

“Honk?” They honked under their breath and swerved over to investigate.

Human voices, shouting, drifted out from the dusty tapestry at the end of the hall, muffled by stone and cloth. Remus gently slid their head behind the tapestry. A few inches past the cover of the cloth, a Remus-sized opening was cut into the stone. Slatted beams of light shone from the other side. Remus honked, pleased to have discovered a possible new roost for their nest. The library nook was getting boring. The librarian never noticed when they stole books, which was just no fun.

Remus stopped in the hollow in the wall. Cozy. Plenty of space. Hidden from evil groundskeepers. They could make a home here for sure.

The voices flared again, overlapping. Remus cocked their head and tried to peer into the room on the other side of the window. They were partially blinded by the light shining out from between wooden planks, but that faded.

Fifteen feet below, a dozen humans were gathered around a long table in the center of a torch-lit hall. The humans were not sitting at the table, contrary to their usual custom. Instead, the majority of them stood, flapping their arms. Their shouts swelled louder and louder, mostly directed at two people at one end of the table. And those two people were glaring at each other.

One was wrinkled, lines stretched deeper with silent fury. Remus was well acquainted with glares that would pluck and boil them alive if given the power, usually from the groundskeeper. The old man’s glare simmered with that same hatred.

The other person was young, easily the youngest human in the room, yet he was sitting in the biggest chair and dressed the most lavishly. Stripes of red, white, and gold wrapped his body. His entire being glittered. Remus stared, enraptured by the glint of gold glinting on the human’s head. They needed that gold.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A new human, this one with shadowed eyes, banged a staff on the table with a flash of bright light. The shouts died instantly.

“You utter morons!” He boomed, voice magnified strangely, like he was shouting into a bell. With mild surprise, Remus recognized Virgil, the groundskeeper’s husband. “We didn’t gather here to argue. We are here to make decisions. The next person to raise their voice or talk out of turn will find themselves wrapped in vines and fed to my carnivorous coneflowers faster than you can say, ‘The fate of the entire goddamn kingdom rests on this goddamn meeting.’ If you want to speak, raise your hand. Prince Roman or I will call on you.” Virgil ripped his staff off the table with a spout of sparks. He glared down the crowd. “If one of you morons have a problem with this, I goddamn dare you: Object.”

No one objected. Slowly, one by one, they sat down. The only sound in the cavernous hall was of chairs squawking awkwardly against the stone floor as people took their places. The furious old man with the death glare was the last to sit, never breaking eye contact with the golden man. The golden man stayed standing. He gulped as he surveyed the table.

“Right- uh, thank you Magician Ambassador Virgil. Yes, back to what we were talking about before we got… angrily sidetracked. Uh, let’s review the important business. My mother’s health continues to decline, uh…” he trailed off, voice pinched, “but my brother, um, Prince Reginald is doing… fine… on the front. Alive, at least with the army-”

“Prince Roman-” a lady in green started. Virgil’s staff exploded in warning sparks. She gulped and thrust her hand into the air.

“I’ll get to you in a minute, Lady Tiffany. I want to get through this list, uh, first, before we discuss anything else. To make sure we don’t miss anything,” Prince Roman, the golden man, said with a forced smile. His hand shook slightly as indicated the paper he was reading from. “Um…” he found his place, “The army is running low on food, supplies, and medicine. The magical plague has weakened, if not incapacitated, nearly all our spellcasters. The drought continues, so the fall harvest will likely be insufficient to get the kingdom through the winter… And our enemies grow stronger by the day.” He cleared his throat as he reached the end of the list. Immediately, a dozen humans shot their hands into the air.

The human discussed their boring matters in loud voices for hours longer. Remus took the opportunity to examine the hidey-hole they’d found. Once their eyes had fully adjusted to the torchlight, they were able to see that it was a disused fireplace, boarded over and forgotten. They tested the boards when the humans got loud again and discovered that the wood would jiggle loose if given time.

“But Prince Roman, banning the trade of magical items will cripple our economy even more than it already is!”

The angry old man was shouting again. Remus peeked back into the room, wondering how much longer the humans would argue with each other. Surely they needed to get up and stretch their wings at some point.

“Lord Briar,” Prince Roman responded in a clipped tone, “we don’t know how the magical plague is spreading. Until we do, I have to insist that we take all necessary precautions to protect our remaining spellcasters, because, currently, their dedication to preserving our grain stores is the only thing that will hold us through the winter-”

“If we don’t have money, we can’t pay our soldiers-”

“If we don’t have food, we won’t have soldiers, Lord Briar, let alone ordinary people to purchase your magical merchandise.”

“With all due respect my prince,” Lord Briar said scathingly, “I can’t trust your judgment in matters relating to the economy of this kingdom. You’re too young and inexperienced to be making these important decisions.”

“With all due respect, Lord Briar,” Prince Roman shot back, seething, “It is my duty to hold this kingdom together through times of crisis. So it is my duty to expunge any hint of mutiny. I welcome your counsel in areas relating to economic issues because you have proven yourself capable in them. But I am your sovereign leader and highest authority until such a time as my mother recovers her health or my brother returns from the front. Do not mistake your deep pockets for true power in my court. If you continue to undermine my authority, I will have you hanged. Do I make myself clear?”

The entire room held its breath. Lord Briar glared so intensely at Prince Roman the feather’s on the back of Remus’ neck bristled. Roman waited patiently for Briar’s reply with cold indifference cocking his head.

At last, Briar nodded.

“Yes, my prince.” His hands curled into fists. Roman nodded, content.

“Right, now that all that drivel is out of the way, let’s discuss the true threat to this kingdom.” All heads snapped to the voice at the opposite end of the table, a familiar man in dark blue robes. Remus’ eyes widened as they recognized their nemesis, the groundskeeper.

A smile flickered in the corner of Roman’s mouth.

“And what might that be, Sir Logan?”

Logan leaned back in his chair.

“The tyrant at our gates. The beast who threatens our very way of life. The bane of this land and all who dwell within.” He dropped forward, the legs of his chair smacking against the stone floor with a crack, “If left unchecked, our imminent doom is assured to come swiftly under an empty, pitiless gaze. Every accomplishment will be reduced to ash, which that monster will scatter with a flap of their terrible wings. I speak, of course, of that blasted goose.”

The tension in the room broke as all the humans burst into laughter. Remus froze in their nook, a splash of emotions running through their head. After a moment, they decided they were flattered.

Roman gave Logan a begrudging smile.

“I’ll assign two of my personal guards to track down the goose. How does that sound?”

“You underestimate the bastardity of this goose if you think two guards will be enough,” Logan pressed.

“Two guards, Sir Logan. And they can’t put off their normal duties for this.”

Logan crossed his arms and said in a very petulant mutter that carried through the hall:

“On your own head be it.”

Roman inhaled sharply, looking very much like he wanted to be mad, but couldn’t. The rest of the humans were covering their mouths to muffle their laughter (with the exception of Lord Briar and a few others). Evidently, Logan brought up in issue of Remus often enough for the entire court to be familiar with their rivalry. Remus was definitely pleased with this turn of events. They were a celebrity!

“Two guards, Logan.”

“Thank you, my gracious prince.”

“If that’s it, then I call this meeting to a close. Any questions can be directed to Sir Patton, our dedicated scribe. Thank you for your time. I hope to see you all at tonight’s feast.”

The humans got up and left in groups of two or three, talking amongst themselves. Remus watched them with mild interest before shrugging and turning to exit their cubby. If two guards were coming to catch them, they wanted to prepare a warm welcome for them.

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#thomas sanders #ts sides #untitled goose story #untitled goose game #ts sides fic #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus the goose is my spirit animal #ts sides au

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lavenderthebook-blog · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1: Just me and old ghosts.

On the 3rd on June, my feet landed in the wilds of Ireland.

I shall not share with you exactly where, because I don’t wish for people to go there seeking what I found. Just know that, on that day, the clouds gave way to light, and it was bright. I looked about at where I’d come to summer this year. The old, worn cobbled courtyard paved the way between 3 structures. First was the small 20-meter-long cottage that I’d been told to not enter. It’s door crumbled to the whims of the wind, and as I tried to gaze in through the window, which was held in place by cobwebs, I only saw old furniture, baskets of nick knacks, and the occasional thing that glimmered in the light, but which I could not make out from outside. My hand touched the wall of the cottage as I attempted to perch myself upward for a better look, the warmth of the day was sucked away from me, and I was left cold. And that was the end of that. I did not fancy being murdered in a haunted cottage. Whilst that would make a great little book, be thankful it’s not this one. I certainly am. Second, the garage. One quick peek around the corner showed me that it was not simply used as a resting place for unfinished projects and lost things. It was full of every conceivable item a farmer might use, from any conceivable time. I will defend to my deathbed that I saw the world very first scythe mounted on a mantle in the back. No lights existed in this place bar that which crept in through cracks and nooks from outside. Not haunted, so, comparatively, better than the cottage. Thirdly, lastly, and grandest, was the main house. It was as beautiful brute, with no finesse or grace to it. It had been built to weather the coldest of winters, and it did so proudly. It’s hanging baskets of flowers, small rusted windows, mouldy dark guttering, and faded cream paint was nothing special, but a welcome dose of rural life. No thatched roof. A shame, as I always wanted to see what they were like. Instead, just plain black tiles. I reached under the mat and found the key, unlocked the lock, and stepped in.

Who doesn’t like seeing an agga when they walk into a home? It’s the heart of a house, and whilst time may have forgotten them, my heart never will. Fond memories of my youth came back to me. Flipping the toast whist it was in its weird rigid net. The shovelling of sausages into one of its many doors only to then shovel them into myself. The time-honoured tradition of resting sock covered feet on it when winter came to try fend off frostbite. It made me think of my Mum and my Dad. They won’t be mentioned again in this book, but if they read this, know that whenever I see an agga, I think of you both. The agga, acting as a sort of all-in-one cooking device dubbed this room the kitchen. The plain wooden cupboards adorning the bare brick walls, large steel sink, and varnished wooden island that doubled as both food prepping area and food consumption area confirmed this further. I dropped my bags on the wooden floor and headed further into the heart of the beast.

The only way onwards from the kitchen was the deep darkness of the hallway. With only one painted glass window as a light source, as well as any that happened to spill out of the kitchen, the hallway was likely as bright at midday as it was at midnight. Luckily, the small radiator, white stairs, and the cheerful nature of the painted glass did give it a more friendly feel rather than fiendish. The white stairs lay to my left, whilst further on to my right was a closed door.

The door led to a small, but cosy room, painted a now faded zinc, hosted a tv wearing its AV cable input as if a row of medals in the far-right corner, and a surprisingly new and likely Swedish bookshelf on the left, which was newer than any of the books and things that lay on its shelves. Betwixt them lay the large, ornate fireplace, its steel cold to the touch, but clearly having been used a lot as it had been blackened by soot. I’d imagine it grew a shade darker each year, as it would be necessary come winter. The sofa across from all of these was comfy. It filled the room with dust when I let myself fall into it, but its faded emerald colour and the sheer depth it let me fall into told me I’d be spending many a morning sat in it, happily munching at toast whilst guessing at the tv’s static charades in an effort to watch something.

Now up the stairs, which creaked a bit, but who doesn’t like a minorly creaky step? It gives such boring a thing some character. Upstairs were 4 rooms. Two were almost identical bedrooms, with only a small table, a single bed on a steel bedframe, and a chair in them. The only difference was that one was painted periwinkle blue and faced north, the other fuschia and south.

The next room was a grand bathroom and was above the kitchen, and was painted almost completely clinical, pure white. An old standalone bath, held upright by four feet moulded into the shape of lion paws, stood proudly cantered on the left wall, with the largest windows yet just next to it, ensuring that an unfortunate passing robin would be sure to catch a fright. The (thankfully) modern toilet was built into the far wall, and was next to the sink, which was a big clunky thing, and reminded me of why the saying used to be actually somewhat funny. On the right was a small dressing room, filled with now empty shelves, and a smell of very slight mildew and fabric softener. Hidden behind the bathroom’s door was a rather clinical 5 by 5 by 8 upright cut into the wall that had an almost watering can like nozzle fixed at the top, and a garden hose like tap on one of the ‘’walls’’. This was the ‘’’’shower’’’’. I saw no temperature nozzle, and realised there was no choice here, only pain. All of a sudden, I began to miss the city a little more.

I finally came to what I was to be my bedroom, which was decorated in a delicious shade of blonde (though, it may have been so appealing due to my own like for women who wore it). It was a large room, with a fittingly large queen sized bed centred along the wall, bedside tables on either side, with a large old hickory leather travel trunk at the foot of the bed. 3 differently styled wardrobes were dotted around the rooms walls. One was Japanese in appearance, with a beautiful mural painted across the two doors, and then otherwise raven. One a simple, but large oak thing, which seemed to lean slightly to the left. The last had once clearly been its twin, but was now covered in glitter, little drawings in crayon, and was marked on its side with 2 of the same names repeated upward as the age next to them grew too. It was a wardrobe that had been loved, and so I was pleased to have it here with me. ‘‘But the back blurb of the book promised me a romance story. What does a soggy description of a house have to do with that?’’ I hear you moan.

Not much really, if I’m honest. Though You’re quite the impatient bitch aren’t you? But if this book is to mean anything to you, as it does me, you have to come with me on this journey. You see, Ireland has a magic too it. Its raw and old. It lets life creep into every little thing that will hold it, and so all these pieces of furniture and appliances are just that, furniture and appliances. But for my three months there, they each took on a little life of their own and became dear friends to me. This is how you must see when reading this book. The best way to understand it is to go and hold something of yours that you’ve had for an age and feel yourself give it life. Ireland is a place where even a fence can take on such a life. And does so rather well. So yes, at times this will be a little pretentious, a little overly dramatic and poetic, and a little strange, but I will try my best to put not only my thoughts, but what I was feeling into words for you, dear reader. All I ask is that you try your hand at reading them as if you were there with me, and not simply an observer. Don’t read the moment, live it like you live the memory of your first kiss: with vivacity and a passion that you can’t escape.

But you were promised ghosts in the chapter title, and you shall have them. Unfortunately, no white sheets came to life and booed at me that night. But as I sat falling into the sofa, the fading light of day painting the bookshelf, tv, and fireplace in fantastic hues of blush and tangerine, I thought on why I’d come here. I’d come with more than just physical baggage. You thought a person ventures out into the Irish wilderness to live in a farm for 3 months on a whim? I’d like to hope my whims would land me in some place sunnier, and with more obvious ways to escape or drown my sorrows like Ibiza, or New York. Unfortunately, I came here for a reason. I am Irish, but I’d never lived there. I’d not grown up there. I’d missed out on the unique zest for life that Ireland gifted its people, and I was in dire need for it now. Why? Because I was broken hearted, broke, and hopeless. My heart had been broken, as it often is, but a love turned sour. We’d been together for one amazing year, three good months, one odd month, then one great month, and then three months where I’d watched them fall in love with someone else. Now it had been one year without them, and without hope in the idea of love. It was not a pleasant feeling. I wanted them, but at the same time knew it would be like drinking poison. Even as I write this, my hand squeezes the pen as I’m forced to remembered fond memories that I wish forgotten. I was broke because, for the last few months, I’d not written anything. Well, I’d written things. Small articles for a paper. A short story that lost an armature writing competition to a tale called ‘’Me and Rum: Fun Fun Fun’’. A children’s book that only proved to me that it was harder to write a children’s book than I’d previously thought. Turns out not every animal is cute when it can talk. Because of this, I’d lost all hope in myself as a writer, and the roaring blazes that had once fuelled me as I wrote now grew dimmer by the day.

And so, I’d returned to where my ancestors had been born, and grown, and bled, and cried, and loved, and fought, and danced, and lost, and died in the hope that they might lend me their strength, or that the zest I’d missed out on would be paid to me with a bundle of interests attached. This, oddly, would turn out to be true.

But for now, simply imagine eyes closing as a laptop slowly slides off the side of a lap and into the sofa. A head falling into a chest. And the sound of snoring filling the house. I’d fallen asleep not knowing that beyond these walls she lay in wait for me, as much as I had, in a way, been waiting for her. I wonder if she’d spotted me as I’d come into the house, and watched through those rusty windows as I met each room, cooked with the agga, and mastered a duet with the tv where I held its antenna out the window and it, in turn, played the news. I hope she’d not seen me dance around under the showers cold water though. If she did, I hope it at least made her laugh.

#Lavender Chapter1 Justmeandoldghosts

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rosebramblewolf · 6 years ago

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so actual question: if there were a big old victorian house in your neighborhood & someone had converted the entire ground floor into a café, what cool chill activities would you want to be available to you while drinking coffee/tea and eating pastries in said café?

for instance there is a big fancy fireplace in the parlor, a big bookshelf, im making the turret into a reading nook, i will probably put at least one board game table, and i think there should be a childrens play area

the original dining room has the espresso bar and the dining tables and chairs, and there are dining tables and chairs on the veranda, but the rest of the place is going to have living room furniture

maybe a gramophone? which i would put on classical i guess but we will all pretend its ragtime since that doesnt exist in the game

the whole cellar is going to be filled with the necessary furniture and decorations for people to also have small weddings there, the regular furniture can be moved out to provide room for the ceremony & reception, but ive never actually thrown a wedding in sims 4 so i dont fully know whats required and some of that may have to be added as necessary.

i wish there were separate outfit categories for daytime and evening formal. i tend to skew toward evening formal when im in cas and for some households, like my torah-observant family, i made their party clothes their daytime formal outfits, but most of my other households have clubbing stuff as their party outfit. i wish i could set the dress code for the café as daytime formal so people would be in like sport coats and floral dresses. but oh well

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paradoxicalpatton · 7 years ago

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Coffee and Flowers

Title: Coffee and Flowers (This is temporary until I can think of a better one)

Summary: Patton is a father who runs a flower shop across the road from a small coffee shop. He decides to start getting a daily coffee every morning and immediately falls for the cute barista.

Pairings: Logicality, background Prinxiety. (Let’s ignore the fact I only ever write Logicality)

Trigger Warnings: None, will edit if necessary.

Chapter: 1

Word Count: 1956

Taglist: @my-happy-little-bean @toujours-fidele @preyed-llama @a-valorous-choice @milomeepit @ironwoman359 @painfullybisexual (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

Author’s Notes: So firstly I want to say thank you to my moon, @preyed-llama for helping me come up with the plot and what not, and for generously agreeing to be my beta. I couldn’t have done this without her! I’m at a bit of a blank with Opposites right now, but there should be a new chapter in a few days.

Chapter Excerpt: “Sorry about that, $17.50 yeah? Here you go!” Honestly, this man made Logan jealous, how did he run across the road and back and not break a sweat?“Thanks, um, what name was that under?” Logan grabbed a permanent marker and a tall coffee cup, awaiting to her the strangers name.“Oh, just Patton will be fine!” Logan quickly wrote it on the cup, while trying not to stare at the beautiful smile Patton was giving him.

Master list || Next Chapter

Patton Sanders was an ordinary man. He was 28 years old, adopted a boy named Thomas, and ran the local flower shop ‘Once and Floral’. You could say that Patton lived a very normal life, both he and Thomas were happy, content with what they had. But Patton felt as if something were missing, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. That morning Patton had driven Thomas to school, usually Thomas would take the bus, but he was feeling a little ill- he refused to stay home because today his class was learning about bees, his favourite insect- so Patton drove him instead. This of course meant that Patton was a little late to open shop, no one was there but he still felt a little guilty. He unlocked the door and entered, quickly setting everything up that wasn’t ready the night before.

Patton owned a very small flower shop, so he was the only person working there, but he didn’t mind. On days that Thomas was too ill for school, he would come with Patton to work, earning extra pocket money for being his dad’s ‘Best Busy Bee’. The flower shop was indeed small, but it was very homely. The walls were painted a pale yellow, most of the paint having chipped off over the years, exposing the old wooden boards underneath. The front of the store had two large bay windows, these being the main source of light, that had soft pillows and blankets covering the ledge. Every wall was covered in flowers from top to bottom, the wall closest to the register had a tiny bookshelf in the middle; with all kinds of books about the types of flowers, the meaning of flowers, and what flowers you should use together to send a message. Every flower was categorised in colour order, red flowers on the wall to the right of the door, all the way to purple flowers covering the left side. Above the door were small white mayflowers, it only seemed fitting as they meant ‘welcome’. Throughout the centre of the store were miscellaneous plants, such as cacti or ferns, all planted neatly in cute little pots Thomas had painted- surprisingly or not they all had a bee on them somewhere- they were a favourite with all the elderly ladies that would come in. Behind the register was a long counter that was covered in ribbons, wrapping paper, cellophane and different shaped boxes and baskets. It wasn’t much, but it was his, he loved that flower shop just as much as he did Thomas.

Now, usually Patton would get a good night’s sleep, he’d make sure Thomas and himself had dinner by 6pm, they’d watch a movie together, and Thomas would be asleep by 8pm. Patton would tuck Thomas in and leave his room, making a round around the house, locking every door and window. He’d stay up for a little while longer, spoiling himself by watching a few animal videos on YouTube before heading to bed by 9pm. This was their every day routine, and neither of them had a problem with it. Last night, however, a customer had requested a large number of flowers for their wedding reception, and Patton had stayed up until 3am planning and sorting what flowers he should arrange for them. So, to say that he was tired the next morning was an understatement. He’d finished moving and setting up books and magazines, potted plants and ready-to-buy bouquets by 9am, moving over to the front door and turning around the hanging sign to say ‘Open’. He must’ve fallen asleep at the register because the next thing he knew was that Mrs. Davidson was shaking him awake.

“Oh, Mrs. Davidson, I apologise for being so unprofessional. How can I help you?” Patton stood up, stretching his back while stifling a yawn. Mrs. Davidson giving him a soft smile as he focused his attention solely on her.

“Dearest Patton, I’ve told you countless times, just call me Elizabeth. Anyway, I was wondering if you had any houseplants I could give to my sister? She’s visiting this weekend and I’d like to get her something.” Patton guided Elizabeth towards the centre of the shop, the potted plants organised neatly. Patton circled the stand, looking at each and every plant as Elizabeth described her sister, giving the friendly father an idea on what she’d like. He stopped in front of a small bonsai tree and picked it up off the shelf before turning to his lovely customer.

“How about this? It’s an Ulmus parvifolia, but most people call it a Bonsai tree. They generally signify love, balance and a calm peaceful energy. As well as inner strength, intuition, and wisdom.” Patton walked back to the register, confident that Mrs. Davidson would purchase it.

“Oh, it’s perfect. She won’t have to take too much care for it will she?”

“Not at all. It needs to be kept in a place where natural light will shine but shouldn’t be left in sunlight for more than 5 hours. She should only water it when the soil seems to be dry and must make sure not to over water it.” Patton wrapped a lavender coloured ribbon around the pot, explaining to Mrs. Davidson what needed to be done.

“My love, you are an angel to this world. Alright, how much do I owe you?” Mrs. Davidson pulled her purse out of her large handbag, leaning on the edge of the counter as she waited for Patton’s response.

“$25, I threw in the ribbon for free so don’t worry about that.” Patton placed the Bonsai tree next to the register as he kindly took Elizabeth’s money, making sure to thank her as he did so.

“Patton, is this one of the pots your son painted? Oh, what was his name again?” Mrs. Davidson picked up the plant, examining the ceramic white container it was in.

“Yes, it is, his name is Thomas. I can quickly change it if you wish?” Patton looked up at Mrs. Davidson once he was done. Patton was very good at reading people, and he realised that the thought of changing the pot hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Dear, I wouldn’t change this for the world. You should sell the pots separately as well, they’re just the cutest. I must be off now, you should get a coffee from the coffee shop across the road, it’ll keep you awake.” Mrs. Davidson shifted the Bonsai tree, so it was sitting comfortably in the nook of her arm as she walked out the peaceful flower shop, smirking at the sign by the door that read ‘Leafing So Soon?’. Patton watched her leave, the bell atop the door ringing as it shut.

Maybe he should grab something to drink, he didn’t want to risk falling asleep again.

It was common knowledge that Logan Woods was the most attractive man in town. Dark mocha coloured hair fell lightly over his black glasses that covered his caramel eyes. He was fairly tall, his body thin yet still slightly muscular. And although he could have anyone he wanted, he stayed single, confusing everyone that met him. Logan ran the local coffee shop, it wasn’t too big, but it was welcoming.

‘C8 H10 N4 O2’ was a simple coffee shop, the walls a dark brown tone which complimented the light brown floorboards. Miscellaneous items in the store would contrast the dark colours with white accents, the small lounge chair in front of the fireplace being the best example. Throughout the shop were clear glass vases filled with white plastic flowers, most pictures hanging on the walls being the components that made up a coffee under a microscope. Just like Logan, his coffee shop was in fact very nerdy. A lot of people who knew him were surprised he’d wanted to be a barista instead of a teacher.

Virgil, his younger brother, was of course very supportive of him. Plus, Logan made amazing coffee, why wouldn’t he support that. Virgil was always the first customer in each morning, he was still in university and none of classes started until after lunch, so he liked to kill time at his brother’s shop. Logan didn’t mind this, it gave him someone to talk to until the morning rush started, plus he got to help Virgil with his studies. This morning, however, Virgil was studying contemporary music, which wasn’t Logan’s most knowledgeable area.

“I do not see why studying contemporary music is a necessity? What will it help you achieve?” Logan was busy cleaning up his store as Virgil read over some of his course work. Logan was moving swiftly around the store, collecting dirty plates and cups and wiping down the tables before preparing more coffee.

“Don’t ask me, as long as I graduate I don’t care.” Virgil took a sip from the coffee Logan had made him, his favourite white chocolate mocha. Logan moved back over to his brother, leaning his back against the counter to face Virgil.

“What time does you first class start today?” Logan picked up Virgil’s timetable he’d scribbled down in the back of his journal, checking what time he needed to leave.

“I think half past 10 but I don’t know anymore.” Virgil lent back on his chair holding onto the counter he was sat in front of.

“Virgil, you realise it is now 10 o’clock? You need to leave now.” Logan closed the journal, placing it in Virgil’s carry bag.

“Huh, I probably should go. Alright, I’ll see you later Lo.” Virgil jumped up off the chair, grabbing his bag and heading to the door. As he opened it he was met with another man on the other side of the door.

“You got another one!” Virgil called out to his brother before finally leaving the coffee shop, leaving Logan chuckling softly to himself so that no one else could hear. Logan walked around the counter as the new customer approached, quickly tightening his apron.

“Hi, welcome to Caffeine, what can I get you today?” Logan stood behind the register, looking up the man that stood before him.

“Hello! Um, could I-uh, could I please have a-uh, a tall caramel macchiato?” Logan stared in awe at the man in front of him. He was absolutely stunning, slightly messy chocolate brown hair and honey eyes behind black framed glasses.

“Uh yeah, that’ll be $17.50” Logan punched in the order, ringing up the handsome guys bill.

“Oh shoot, I left my wallet back at the shop!” The man glanced behind him, noticing that he was now the only customer there, “I’ll be one second!” And he was gone, in a blink of an eye, the man had sped out the coffee shop and across the road, before rushing back to the register Logan was standing behind. “Sorry about that, $17.50 yeah? Here you go!” Honestly, this man made Logan jealous, how did he run across the road and back and not break a sweat?

“Thanks, um, what name was that under?” Logan grabbed a permanent marker and a tall coffee cup, awaiting to her the strangers name.

“Oh, just Patton will be fine!” Logan quickly wrote it on the cup, while trying not to stare at the beautiful smile Patton was giving him.

“Alright, it shouldn’t be too long.” Logan got to work, making the drink before calling him up.

“Have a good day.” Logan handed him the drink, their fingers brushing ever so slightly.

“Uh- yeah, you too!” The barista watched as Patton walked out, placing his head in the palm of his hand as he lent on the counter. A content smile forcing its way onto his face.

Patton, that’s a nice name.

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askia258-blog · 6 years ago

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The very best area video games on PC

Followers have been arguing since final century over which of the Grasp of Orion video games is the higher of the sequence and so they solely appear to agree that the third most undoubtedly isn’t it, which makes the widely-available double pack that includes the primary two MOOs one thing of a vital and stress-free buy – at the least till Wargaming end their MOO reboot with the assistance of some “key members” of the unique group. Launched in 1993, Grasp of Orion took the ideas of Sid Meier’s traditional turn-based Civilization and utilized it throughout a galaxy of planets reasonably than one, in order that as a substitute of assorted flavours of human settlers and terrestrial biomes, gamers got a variety of planet varieties and races to regulate and conquer, such because the Silicoids; capable of thrive in essentially the most hostile of environments, albeit at a glacial reproductive charge. Whereas the driving pressure behind Grasp of Orion and each 4X recreation since has been technological development and colonialism, this was the primary recreation of its sort to essentially nail diplomacy and provide a path to victory during which some measure of galactic peace could possibly be achieved. The sequel went even additional, with customisable races and a political victory that required you to be elected because the Supreme Chief of the galaxy. What's simple is that MOO I and II are necessary historic references, as seminal an affect on turn-based area conquest as the primary two Doom video games have been establishing and defining the FPS. In contrast to Doom, nonetheless, MOO has forged such a protracted monolith-shaped shadow over the whole area recreation style that many would argue that the Orion video games have but to be eclipsed.

Mass Impact 2

Admittedly, there’s not a lot fizzing and fwooshing of spaceships to be loved in Mass Impact, however it’s nonetheless a planet-hopping, alien-seducing area journey, and top-of-the-line sci-fi RPGs you’re prone to play. Mass Impact 2 deserves inclusion right here for 2 causes: one is the apparent energy of the story and the characters, a narrative that began sturdy within the first recreation and blossomed all through its center act to such a level that the conclusion was at all times going to wilt a little bit. Secondly, regardless of a whole lack of direct spaceship management, you felt not simply a part of a crew, however accountable for a functioning ship with a capability to discover the galaxy. Parallels have been drawn – not least by Bioware themselves – between the Mass Impact trilogy and the traditional exploration sequence Starflight, which was notable within the late 1980s for being one of many very first area exploration video games and is notable as we speak for not having been bettered in that regard since. When it comes to storyline, with all that historic know-how end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it gubbins, Mass Impact’s storyline is remarkably near Starflight’s. Certainly Starflight may virtually be seen because the ’70s unique to Mass Impact’s BSG-style gritty reimagining, solely with out the risible Galactica 80 spin-off sequence to besmirch its status.

FTL: Sooner Than Gentle

Area is terrible and can most likely kill you: that’s the lesson FTL makes an attempt to impart on courageous spacefarers. The permadeath ship administration recreation is, on the floor, a easy race to ship data to the arms of your allies, however you’re being chased. With each diversion explored, the enemy fleet will get nearer and nearer, and even when you do keep forward of them, random loss of life lurks round each nook. Random violent encounters, procuring sprees, new worlds and races, unlockable ships and configurations, masses and a great deal of extraordinary weapons and instruments – there’s a lot in FTL that each recreation has the potential to be dramatically completely different. One may see you managing a troublesome vessel that employs ion cannons to disable enemy methods and drones to pepper them with lasers. One other would possibly encourage you to make use of thoughts management to defeat your enemies, or teleporters to fill their ships with your personal crew. A lot can go fallacious. Typically it’s your fault, like while you mess up a battle and find yourself quickly trying to patch up hull breaches and put out fires. However typically luck simply isn’t in your aspect, like while you agree to assist an area station take care of a plague and one in every of your crew will get sick. However each failed try is a whole story filled with adventures and misadventures, and an awesome excuse to make one other valiant try.

Distant Worlds: Universe

One other 4X recreation so as to add to the checklist, however actually, Distant Worlds is no matter you need it to be, and we have been reasonably taken with it in our Distant Worlds: Universe overview. It’s an exploration recreation the place you've got one vessel that’s a part of a large empire, and also you spend the entire time flitting across the galaxy. A commerce recreation, the place one eye is at all times in your checking account, whereas the opposite is hungrily taking a look at aliens, looking for good offers and diplomatic alternatives. A recreation the place you're the grasp of all the pieces, sticking your finger in each conceivable pie, from army issues to colonisation. It’s enormous; mind-bogglingly, overwhelmingly huge. A whole galaxy is simulated from personal merchants going about their enterprise, to pirates getting as much as no good. It’s essentially the most formidable 4X area recreation that you just’re ever prone to discover. At its core, it’s a software for creating your personal galaxies to play in. Gamers can curate the sport to such a level that one recreation may bear no resemblance to the following. Every little thing from the age of the galaxy to the aggression of pirates might be dictated earlier than a recreation even begins.

Star Wars: TIE Fighter Particular Version

LucasArts could be gone, and one may argue that it died lengthy earlier than it formally shut down, however we’ll at all times have reminders of what it as soon as was, with sensible video games like Completely Studio’s phenomenal Star Wars: TIE Fighter, the villainous sequel to X-Wing. Its predecessor was nice, there’s little question about it, however TIE Fighter’s marketing campaign allows you to play as an Imperial, and the Satan is at all times extra enjoyable. It was additionally, throughout the board, an enchancment over X-Wing, from its graphics – now very dated, admittedly – to a concentrating on improve that allowed pilots to deal with particular components of an enemy capital ship or station. This isn’t some arcade area shooter like its not-quite-successor, the Rogue Squadron sequence. This can be a area sim first, which comes with larger complexity but in addition larger management. As an illustration, when you’re being battered by laser fireplace from a pesky X-Wing and your ship’s been broken, then you definitely assign the order during which methods are repaired, permitting you to prioritise so you'll be able to survive for just a few extra seconds. Simply sufficient to win the battle. Being an oldie, count on a wee little bit of fiddling to get the perfect expertise. Fortunately, we’ve bought a Star Wars: TIE Fighter newbie’s information, which ought to prevent from some potential issues.

Sins of a Photo voltaic Empire: Rise up

A recreation that efficiently manages to mix the easiest of 3D real-time technique – albeit with no correct single-player marketing campaign – with the form of empire constructing supplied solely by the very most interesting 4X titles. Sins of Photo voltaic Empire: Rise up is performed throughout a user-defined community of stars. Gamers start forging an empire across the gravity wells of planets with shipyards, analysis outposts, extractors, and defence methods, then assemble fleets combining frigates, corvettes, cruisers, and capital ships to map and finally conquer neighbouring methods. In earlier variations of Sins of a Photo voltaic Empire, conquest was largely achieved within the time-honoured RTS vogue of dragging an enormous field round each single rattling ship you owned and directing them in the direction of the enemy methods in order to permit sheer pressure of numbers to win the day. Nonetheless, with the introduction of diplomatic victories in a earlier growth and analysis and occupation victories as a part of 2012’s Rise up standalone – to not point out new Loss of life Star-like titan ships as a much-needed counter to the ultra-defensive starbases constructions – the stalemates that will typically trigger video games to peter out might be pursued as probably successful methods. And let’s not neglect in regards to the mods that allow you to play out your Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica fantasies. That’s our choose of the perfect area video games on PC. Whereas we've you, why not try a few of the most enjoyable upcoming PC video games, or when you’re within the temper to learn in regards to the absolute best titles of all-time, try our checklist of the perfect PC video games. Within the meantime, lose your self within the area epics above. Hopefully, by the point you’re completed taking part in them, that bloody impolite E.T. could have lastly checked his voicemail. Read the full article

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sheetalinfra · 3 years ago

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Decorate Your Home Like A Professional Would

If you're tired of staring at the same old walls in your home lately, consider interior decorating! Giving any room in your house a make-over can be fun, rewarding and even economically efficient. Consider the following tips to help you plan, prepare and produce your home decorating ideas with style. One key tip with regards to interior design is to make sure your room has a focal point. Whether it is a fireplace, piece of furniture or whatever you desire, it is important to have one point in which the entire room revolves around so that whatever item you choose is the highlight of the room.

Choose your colors carefully when you're looking at repainting a room. You want to choose colors that go well together and compliment each other. You don't want colors that clash and fight for attention. You want your colors to blend together and feel natural. Don't go with too many bright colors, or you risk overwhelming your senses. You can never go wrong by adding a little greenery to whichever room your are designing. Plants make wonderful additions to any room as they give your room a refreshing and lively look. A few strategically placed plants will greatly improve the decor of your room so long as you remember to water them! If you are thinking to buy ready to move in 3bhk flats in Ahmedabad then there are many options with a great interior.

Best builders in Ahmedabad

Sheetal Infra

If you're working on designing for a small space, adding light can greatly increase the feeling of size in the room. Adding light fixtures and using appropriate drapery can increase the amount of light in the room. Mirrors are also a great way to increase light and increase the apparent size of a small space. Use many levels of lighting. By utilizing lighting in your design you can accomplish multiple looks in one room. An overhead light is typically necessary, but try installing a dimmer switch so you can vary the level and create ambiance in the evening. Install accent lighting to bring focus to art pieces. Task lighting is also important for reading nooks or kitchen prep areas. Multi-level lighting will allow you to create many vibes with one design and best builders in Ahmedabad offers some of the most luxurious flats.

Use vinyl adhesive stickers to decorate a child's room. Because you may not want to redo your child's room each time they go through a phase (trains? dinosaurs? super heroes?), vinyl stickers are a great solution. Available in practically every design from words to numbers to athletes and more, they allow you to stick them semi-permanently to any wall, but easily remove them when your child finds a new passion. Hanging artwork on a wall is a great way to liven up any room. However, it is important that you do not put up too much; this will just make the room look cluttered. If you have a large wall and want to fill up space, just get a larger piece of art.

A great tip for interior design is to layer your window treatments. This will give your room a more elegant look and feel. It also has the added benefit of giving you better control of the natural light in your room as one of your layers can be sheer. In attempting a design project for a small room it is ideal to research tricks for making the room appear larger. The right furniture and great lighting make all the difference. You should learn everything you can in order to open up a small living space.

Having the same decor and furnishings for any length of time can make for a really boring home. Splash some color on the walls, hang dazzling curtains and turn everything inside out until you have found your decorating Zen! Hopefully this article has given you great ideas and new found inspiration.

#bestbuilders #topconstructioncompanies #3Bhkfats

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erlenmeyertrash · 7 years ago

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for some more questions, how about favorite colors? any beloved stuffed animals? favorite food? do you like bubblegum? would you rather be able to fly or to swim ((like have gills, mermaid-style))? do you like lots of blankets or lots of pillows? on a day in, would you rather read or build a blanket/pillow fort? favorite holidays? i still love u btw

!!!!!!! idk where this is coming from but i’m in a rambling mood so i’m so down

favorite colors: gold!! maroon!!! royal blue!!! the ultimate faves. i do, however, have a soft spot for. like. soft, muted, calm interior design colors and color schemes. warm cinnamon browns, cool smokey greys, dark wood and steel… all those whole shebangs. also earthy tones are always good, and every color in a sunset altogether. sunsets and dusk skies are some of my favorites ever.

any stuffed animals: alas, no, not anymore. i’ve just got my oggo to snuggle with ♡ i used to have tons, though, but i haven’t had them out in years.

favorite food: …just one?… i love way too much food to ever pick a favorite, let’s be real. we’ll go with anything warm and flavorful, with maybe a hint of something sweet if it’s necessary.

do you like bubblegum: ,,, friend,, i am a gum heathen. i love gum.

fly or swim: see, i’ve never liked the whole flying thing as an option. you’re literally a human in the air, that’s so attention-grabbing! and i love the idea of being able to like. swim in a coral reef or go shell-searching for hours, so i’m gonna go with swimming (as long as the gills don’t look wildly weird, bc we out here being Vain™ 24/7).

lots of blankets or lots of pillows: both??? what is this??? (also it depends on the weather/temperature. if it’s super cold, more blankets, definitely. but if it’s more tolerable? pillows galore. i usually sleep with 4-5 pillows anyways, yikes)

read or build a fort: build an epic fort with a comfy reading nook by the window, then read the day away. (so… probably reading over fort-building, but forts are always super fun)

favorite holidays: CHRISTMAS. it’s winter and cold and no school and it might snow and i get to give people gifts and Oggy can wear a sweater or reindeer antlers and did i mention no school and sweaters and boots and blankets and fires in the fireplace and a huge Christmas dinner and hot chocolate and peppermint flavored everything hhh i just. love christmas okay.

// once again, thank you, my lovely anon!!! (obama voice) i love you back♡♡♡

#abby answers #...or #once again #more like abby rAMBLES

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gossamerandshadow · 4 years ago

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Mira Adler: Character Sheet

Summary

A thief who stole her way onto the Grand Stair and then, upon realizing that the Lord she’d stolen from might want his stuff back, continued to steal wantonly in an attempt to gather enough power to protect herself, which... actually, shockingly, has kind of worked out for her (so far).

150 points spent out of 151 points earned

Attributes - 45 points

Psyche: 5 Strength: Superior Endurance: Paragon Finesse: 30 Presence: 20

Powers - 48 points

Master of the Grand Stair Talents - 8 points

Awareness of the Grand Stair - 3 points

Evoking the Safety of the Grand Stair - 2 points

Affecting the Grand Stair - 3 points

Thief’s Charm - Mold Gossamer Matter - 1 point

Allows Mira to, with a touch, shrink any item to the size of her palm.

Worn as a dull brass ring.

Star Ball - Shapeshifting (Named and Numbered) - 2 points

Red/Silver/Pink Fox - a fox of typical and natural size and ability, appearing with either the usual red colouration or, sometimes, the melanistic colouration, or, very occasionally, a completely unnatural bright pink shade of fur that matches her hair.

Spirit Fox - an ethereal fox seen as a translucent shimmering blue creature, only slightly larger than a typical fox.

Kitsune - a regal creature with snow-white fur and golden eyes, approximately the size of a large dog, with nine tails.

Flaming Pearl - 8 points

Fire Control (Mold Gossamer Energy) - 4 points

Deadly Damage - 4 points

The Star Ball and Flaming Pearl are both worn as single pearl pendants, each on their own chain.

Angelica’s Ring - 5 points

Invisibility (Mold Gossamer Energy) - 4 points

Ephemerality (Mold Gossamer Matter) - 1 point

Malachite Hairpin - 2 points

Shapeshifting (Malachite lockpicks) - 1 point

Change Hair (Mold Gossamer Matter) - 1 point

Mira always has a green hairpin or comb or some other sort of item in her hair. It controls the appearance of her hair - length, colour and style. When removed, her hair returns to its natural wavy blond.

Magic Carpet/Cloak - 12 points

Flight (Movement) - 4 points

Shapeshifting (Clothing/Fabric) - 2 points

Psychic Sensitivity - 1 point

Psychically Neutral - 2 points

Immune to Conventional Weapons - 4 points

Turns out that most magic carpets are not necessarily actually carpets by definition. They’re capable of taking on whatever form of fabric-craft best suits their owner at the time. It’s just that carpets are a popular shape because they’re a comfortable option for travel. Mira tends to wear hers as clothing.

Philosopher’s Stone - Eidolon Perception/Immortality - 10 points

Every year or so, Mira uses the philosopher’s stone kept in the Savoir to produce a draught which perfects her body, granting her benefit that mimic those of Eidolon mastery.

Glitch Ring - Cantrip “Glitch” - 1 point

Extras - 7 points

Domain - The Savoir - Personal, Restricted Access, Control of Time - 5 points Ally (Mentor) - Aloysius - 2 points

The Savoir is split into three wings - the museum, the library, and Mira’s personal living spaces. There is no “outside” in her domain - the entire space feels like its indoors. It is a small, for a domain, about the size of a mansion, and the only door leading out leads back into the Stair. It is manned by an ageless “human” named Aloysius, but whom Mira makes a regular habit of calling “Lurch” which, thankfully, he does not find too insulting.

The Door - the only one - opens into the museum wing, which is dominated by one large space filled primarily with artifacts, with nearly a dozen smaller viewing rooms spanning out to the left and right, all filed with paintings and a few specific floor-display pieces.

The library is a dense, twisting labyrinth of books, though there is a long, straight hall that runs through the center, making it easy to move through the library and difficult to get completely lost. If one explores the twisting aisles, they will inevitably come across a cozy little reading nook on their travels - usually a small space with lower ceilings, a lamp, and an over-stuffed leather chair. Sometimes the bigger ones have a fireplace or stove, and always always always there is a collection of big chunky blankets.

There is a smaller, private door hidden in behind the library’s largest fireplace which leads into a space that looks somewhat odd next to the ancient, almost medieval feel of the library - it seems like a modern luxury condo, dominated by grey marble, clean white walls, and tall windows that look out over swirling mist and distant grey cubes that might remind one of standing on the upper floor of a skyscraper during a cloudy day in London.

Backstory

Born poor in a modern-era world defined by immense wealth inequality, Mira struggled to survive during her childhood. She never speaks about these years, but evidently suffered greatly during them. The only thing she regularly lets slip is that her parents were absentee, either not caring for her as a child requires or orphaning her completely. She developed a talent as a thief and used her skill to keep herself alive, especially after her parents disappeared from her life. As she grew into adulthood, her thefts were no longer necessary to keep herself alive, but rather served to keep her in comfort, targeting the most wealthy people on her world. She hoped, one day, to steal her way into wealth and security of her own.

Or at least, that was until she was hired to steal a painting, and accidentally stumbled across Angelica’s Ring as part of the job. When she took up the item, something inside her recognized that this item was not normal, and, when she put it on, discovered two things: one, that she was invisible, and two, that she could see a door in that very room that she hadn’t been able to see before. When she opened it, she found the Grand Stair. She had no idea what it was, but it was clear enough to her that this place was not normal or possible, and that it represented an escape, so she took the opportunity and fled into the labyrinth of the Stair.

In time, she came to realize that she must have stolen a Key - Angelica’s Ring - from a fellow Gossamer Lord, and it became her mission to empower herself to defend against that Lord when he inevitably came looking for that which she had stolen. She has a remarkable talent for navigating the Stair itself, and spends a great deal more time there than most. What time she spends in Gossamer Worlds have generally been in the pursuit and theft of items that might increase her power. The rest of her considerable effort has been put towards learning more about the Grand Stair.

In time, she made a most unusual discovery - a tiny Gossamer world, hidden away in a nearly impossible-to-find corner of the Labyrinth. It was clearly a Domain created by another Lord; no world develops into a tiny library on its own. Especially not a world with a single lonely inhabitant. The inhabitant, Aloysius, has since made clear that he is not, in fact, an actual human, despite all appearances to the contrary, but won’t explain to Mira what he is instead. When she discovered the Domain, Aloysius told her that it now belonged to her - that the Domain had been created as a prize for the first Gossamer Lord who discovered it. He also refused to explain who created it and why it was left as such a prize.

Despite being initially extremely suspicious of the “gift” she’d won, Mira eventually came to trust that the Domain truly was hers - she had been gifted the only Key to the only Door, and the Domain was beginning to respond to her will, indicating that it recognized her as its master. Despite not being a Gossamer Lord himself, Aloysius has proven to be very knowledgeable about the Grand Stair and about the politics of the Lords and Ladies within.

Since then, Mira has started to cultivate a reputation for herself among the Lords and Ladies of the Stair, as someone who is willing and capable of obtain whatever one might desire, no matter how difficult it may be. This has, unsurprisingly, earned her a few friends and jobs from the Agora, where she spends much of her time when not in her Domain or exploring Gossamer worlds.

Appearance

Mira appears as a young woman with pale skin, grey eyes and shoulder-length pink hair. She is perpetually laughing, and one is often left with the feeling that she’s laughing at, rather than with, but it’s hard to say for certain. She’s just below average height for a human woman, which suits her chosen profession. She prefers to dress in a manner that would be considered slightly exotic for her home world, and more than slightly revealing.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.ca/aliasofagirl/mira-adler/

#ooc #character sheet #caggles #mira #mira adler #thiefy disaster

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