#white walls and olive green carpets

[michaelburham]

Guest - Beach Style Bedroom Inspiration for a mid-sized coastal guest carpeted bedroom remodel with green walls and no fireplace

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 25

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, demisexuality on full display, language, mentions of minor character death, baby can you taste the foreshadowing in this chapter?

✦ Word Count: 5.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

[Master List]

Tony has absconded your rotary phone and secluded himself in the living room, calling numerous numbers on a list he keeps waving around in his hand as he paces back and forth. You watch him go, catching only a few words of his rapid-fire conversation before you move to join the others at the back of the house.

The three rooms at the rear of the home had once been an office, a ladies’ parlor, and a dining area. You had them all converted to be one large library. While the archways remained in place, separating the three areas, they looked nearly identical. Emerald wallpaper covered the tiny slivers of walls that weren’t obscured by the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

Clint is sitting on the chaise lounge with his legs kicked up over the powder blue fabric, his head dangles over the edge. Steve is respectfully listening along to whatever Bruce is working on. The doctor had found an old chalkboard of yours and was currently writing down several things with a small stub of white chalk.

Looking to your left, you see the assassin currently perusing the shelves in the first room - where your oldest items were held. While, ordinarily, you wouldn’t want anyone to be anywhere near those books and scrolls, you knew you could trust the redhead with the precious items. 

Wordlessly, you slide past the archer.

Natasha is hunched slightly as she stares at a framed document on the wall.

“Wow, an MA from Cornell?”

Her eyes flicker up as you move to stand beside her. Crossing your arms, you stare at the old degree.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s a good forgery,” she comments. “Did you get Brandon or Nadia to do it?”

Back in your SHIELD agent days, those two were the best when it came to making forged documents: passports, ID cards, certificates, you name it.

But you merely shake your head, chuckling as you lean your weight down onto the edge of the small wooden desk, “No, that one’s legitimate.”

She’s silent for just a moment before she hums, “That makes sense.” And then she’s turning to look at you, snapping a ball of evergreen gum, “How many more you got hiding around here?”

“Oh,” you smile, easing up from your spot. 

Crossing the room, you bend down to pick up a stack of frames, all lying on the carpet beside an olive-green velvet armchair. You flip through them, old memories pulling up to the surface as you view the degrees for the first time in a long while.

“I have nine here,” you say as you hand them over to Natasha, one by one. “University of Sydney, Art Institute of Chicago, Royal College of Arts, University of London, uh… Bedford - that was my first medical degree, Göttingen, Washington University.”

She smiles that secretive little smile of hers as she inspects each one. Holding up the last frame, she states, “This looks pretty old.”

You snort, “Near ancient really. That was… Cronus, 1794? They started allowing women into their lectures just a few years before that. Actually! My oldest one is from Bologna, in Italy. That was…1431?”

Her brows arch, “They gave women degrees in the 15th century?”

“13th. Professoressa Gozzadini was one of the first to graduate and teach at the university. I sat in for a few of her lectures, but law was never really my interest.”

She lets out a low whistle, “Look at you. Probably the most educated out of the group.”

With a shrug, you take back the frames - returning them to their rightful spot in a pile on the floor, “I’m not the one who went to MIT, I don’t have any degrees in engineering or mathematics. I certainly wouldn’t call myself the most educated.”

She reclines back on the desk across from you, “Why did you bother?”

“Pursuit of knowledge, mostly. And, back then, before a government-appointed forgery artist, you had to have an MA to be a museum curator. I mean, once I started working for SHIELD, I had a few made up just to give me access to other places. It tends to raise a few brows when you show up with a degree marked thirty years older than what you look, you know?”

Natasha offers you a gentle laugh.

“I imagine so.”

“So, even though I have fake degrees from Yale, and Harvard, and U of M, and Cambridge, I’ve only ever actually attended about ten universities?”

“More than me. The KGB didn’t really hand out degrees for… my training.”

Your smile fades as you watch the flicker of something distant dance in her green eyes.

While you had checked in on everyone earlier that afternoon, Natasha had been with Clint when you came in. He had assured you that they were both fine then and she had nodded in agreement. But you could tell, there was far more under the surface than she was willing to let see the light of day.

“You doing okay?” you ask, voice hesitant as you move closer to her.

She glances up, back down, and then up again, “Mhmm.”

“Hey,” you draw closer, enough to gently nudge her arm with your elbow. “It’s honestly no one's business, but… if you did want to talk to someone other than Barton about it… I mean, we’re the only two women here and I imagine, even though you guys are friends, it might be harder to talk about some of these things. I don’t know, I’m not great at the whole friend thing these days.”

She snorts, a smile playing on her lips as she looks over at you.

“You’re doing fine, Seven. And you know, me and Clint aren’t just friends. I can tell him pretty much anything and he’ll listen. Even if he’s got his aids out.”

There’s a nod of understanding as you breathe out, “Yeah, I guess you two have been through a lot together. Budapest and all that, right? Hard to shake a friend like that.”

Natasha pauses, dropping a hand to your wrist as she meets your eyes.

“We’re more than friends. I mean, don’t go… talking about it to everyone. But, wow, I thought we were a little more transparent?”

Your line of thinking pauses, resets, and starts moving again before you’re able to get any words out that sound even remotely coherent.

“Oh… you’re… together?”

She nods, offering a little humming sound.

“I did not know that.”

The redhead laughs, “Well, welcome to the party. Everyone else has been pretty… respectful about it actually.”

You shake your head, “No, I honestly had no idea. That whole… realm? That’s kind of beyond me.”

She blinks.

“Relationships?”

Looking toward the wall of shelves where medieval manuscripts and musty age-worn books reside, you take a steadying breath.

“Romantic relationships. Eros, if you will.”

She lets the words sit for a minute before she says anything further.

“I mean, I didn’t want to perpetuate the virgin goddess stereotype, but…”

“Hey,” you shove her arm. “I got enough of that kind of talk from Sharon. I don’t need you jumping into it too.”

“Carter?”

You hum in reply.

It may have only been a year since you last encountered the blonde agent. But your short time on Olympus with the humans had been cemented in your mind for some time now. You could recall the young woman’s words, her inquiries into your… past love life, or lack thereof.

Humans spoke so freely about that topic these days. But… that was not for you. And though you understood their curiosity when it came to you, they had to know that the way you existed was far different than the way they did when it came to love. 

You knew the worlds of agápē and philia. Even storge, philuatia, and xenia. But eros… that had always remained far from your reach, slipping through your fingers like wispy mist. And that was just the way it was; the way it had always been.

The way it would likely remain.

“Hey.”

The two of you turn to see Clint resting in the doorway.

  “Whatcha talking about?” he grins.

You and the redhead share a look before simultaneously replying:

“College.”

“Relationships.”

Your eyes seek out Natasha’s but she merely winks at you before returning her attention to the archer.

“Right…” he drawls, itching the back of his head for a moment before he continues, ”Stark says he can’t get through to Cho’s lab. He’s trying to get someone on Hill’s team to go look into it, but…” he ends with a vague shrug.

Feeling the pull of the previous conversation fall to the wayside, you blink, “She was working with regenerative tissues, right? Oh, that is so obvious I want to smack myself!”

“Okay?” Clint calls as you breeze past him into the central room of the library.

Steve stands from the lounge as soon as you walk in, moving to stand alongside Banner as you peer over his shoulder at the chalkboard.

“If I was looking to evolve, as an artificial intelligence, why would I need living tissue?”

Bruce nods, juggling the chalk between his hands, “Exactly what I was thinking. Vibranium is more than enough.”

“So, why would you want a humanesque body if you believe you are the superior life form?”

The others circle into the room as the two of you begin to brainstorm.

“Uhm… relatability? You know, a friendly face to the humans you’re trying to protect?”

You shake your head, “No, he’s artificial he can’t care about that. I’d say maybe he’s trying to circumvent the Laws of Robotics in some way, but that seems like a far fetch.”

Steve stands beside Bruce, tilting his head to look down at the current list of theories the doctor had written out.

“Would he be able to convert vibranium to be like a form of skin?” he wonders aloud.

You both let the idea simmer for a moment before reaching the same conclusion.

“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” Bruce admits, looking to you for a differing opinion.

With a nod, you add, “And if anyone could accomplish that, it would be Helen. Her work in the field is above anything else to date.”

“Bet she wouldn’t be doing it willingly,” Natasha points out as she browses through your literary collection.

The supersoldier lets out a breath, realization dawning, “That’s why he needed the scepter.”

“And a million distractions,” Clint huffs.

As the idea rests upon your consciousness, Tony finally makes an appearance. Surveying the gloomy atmosphere, he whistles.

“Wow, brainstorming without me. So… got in touch with my contacts at Nexus. Looks like we were right, someone’s been scrambling the launch codes. Faster than Ultron can figure them out, I might add.”

Natasha perks up, “We have an ally?”

You offer her a look, “Ultron has an enemy. We can’t assume that’s the same thing as an ally. All things considered.”

Your eyes land on Steve and he seems to give a small nod, agreeing with your sentiment.

“So,” Tony begins. “I think I want to head to Oslo, see what’s what.”

Steve crosses his arms, “And Dr. Cho?”

“I think we can safely assume we dropped the ball there as well,” the billionaire gestures a small explosion with his hands.

The supersoldier’s eyes harden.

“We’re not abandoning her.”

“Is that what I said?” Tony clips, squinting at Steve as he moves to cross the room.

Natasha knocks her head back against the bookshelves, “What happened to not splitting up?”

Tony turns to look at her, “What are we? The Mystery Gang? Zoinks, Scoob, let’s go fetch the metal man.”

“Hey, look,” Clint moves to stand between the two men. “No offense, but as someone who’s been on the other side of that damn scepter, I wish I had someone running to come undo it.”

Beside you, Bruce tugs off his glasses and gives a slight sigh.

Observing the room, watching the team begin to tear themselves apart once again in the span of a single evening, you finally step forward.

“If you - ” you address Tony, “ - head to Oslo and track down this entity or person or whatever, the rest of us can go to Helen and figure out what exactly Ultron might have needed from her.”

“Or, we can trust that Hill and her agents have it in hand and we figure out where the bastard is hiding out,” Tony suggests with a knowing smile.

Before you can even ask why he would consider that option, your landline begins ringing its shrill bell tone. You stare at the billionaire for a moment more before you push your way out of the room to answer the call.

“Hello?” you ask into the receiver.

“It’s Hill,” comes the instant reply. “Stark was right. I’ve got people at the labs right now and she’s still coming out of it. It sounds like Ultron made out with something of hers - hell if I know what, right now. Give me some time and we’ll get an answer out of her. She’s… pretty shaken.”

“But unharmed?” you question, glancing back as you notice someone coming down the hall.

“Luckily, yes.”

There’s a beat of silent static, but you sense there is something more she wants to say.

“What is it?”

“We… uhm, we intercepted an image before it was broadcast to every major news network.”

Tony’s, surprisingly, the one standing beside you. His eyes are wide and imploring, but you merely wave your hand at him.

“What was the picture?”

“Strucker. Dead.”

“His usefulness ran out,” you surmise.

“Pretty graphic stuff, honestly. But we’re keeping it from the airways for now, so.”

It made sense, of course. For the perfect peacekeeper to remove a threat once it was no longer helpful to him.

“Any idea on the location?”

“Funny you should ask,” she says. “It was taken in the mutants’ cells, back at his hideout.”

Now that, was interesting.

“Okay,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead as you glance back over at the billionaire. “Well, I’m going to hand you back to Tony before he forcefully rips this out of my hand.”

Before you can even hear her reply, Tony does in fact take the receiver out of your hand.

“Talk to me,” he says, offering you a wink as you shake your head before he dips into the living room to continue the call.

When you walk back to the library where the others are still conversing, Steve looks toward you with a questioning look.

“Well, I hate to say it,” you huff. “But Stark was right. She’s in good hands right now and yes, she’ll be fine. We might have a location though, for Ultron.”

Bruce’s eyes brighten as he looks over at you, “Where?”

You offer them all a tight smile.

“Sokovia.”

The house is bathed in the hushed tones of evening. The halls are painted with the cool hues of starlight and the feint ambiance of a lone lamp in the library. 

After Maria’s revelation, the team had a quick conversation before it was admitted that they would need at least a few hours of sleep before anyone was in any condition to go anywhere near a robot hell-bent on your collective destruction. So, you bid goodnight to Clint and Natasha - now understanding why the two were sharing a room. As well as Bruce, who was guided up to a room on the third floor.

Tony was determined to head to Oslo as soon as humanly possible. He had taken his suit and decided to fly to the internet hub after his last call with Hill.

That only left…

“Are you just incapable of sleeping?” you ponder as you lean against the wooden archway of the library’s main entrance.

Steve blinks up at you before offering a tired smile, “To be fair, I’m not sure if I could sleep even if I wanted to right now.”

He’s sitting on the blue lounge with a book in his lap. A black-bound story with lettering so faded on the cover you’re not immediately sure which book it is. You take a few steps into the room before you drop down beside him on the chaise.

“From fear of our possible demise or… from that vision?” you ask, tone soft as you begin to tread difficult waters.

The supersoldier’s mouth gapes before he snaps the book closed.

Ah, Treasure Island.

“Little of both?” he answers honestly.

You give him a nod before taking a breath for yourself.

“Do you, uhm, want to talk… about it?”

He looks at you before he drops his gaze to his hands. His silence makes you think you’ve waded out too far into the unknown, but after another stretch of quiet, he says:

“I saw my Ma, actually.”

“Really?”

With a nod, he places the book on the end table beside the lounge. Leaning against the back of the chaise, he entwines his hands into a fist in between his legs. His eyes are locked on the ceiling.

“Everything before that was… hell,” at that, he glances over at you, before almost immediately pulling his gaze away. “And then… I saw her. She looked just like she did before…” he gives a sigh.

“It didn’t feel like the beginning of the vision. That felt like I was completely at the mercy of the nightmare. This part, with her, it was… I don’t know, different.”

Your hand finds purchase on his right forearm, silently imploring him to continue.

“She verbally snapped me out of it, I guess you could say.”

“Must be one powerful woman,” you comment with a small smile.

Steve’s left hand rests comfortably over your own, his thumb rubs at the area just above your wrist. You find yourself leaning into his side, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“She was.”

And then, he gives a warm chuckle.

“She, uh, actually used to read me this,” his hand lifts from yours to gently pat the book on the table beside him.

“Oh, such a classic,” you smile.

You can feel him nod, “Honestly got me thinking I was going to grow up to be a pirate one day.”

Pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous expression, “You? Seriously?”

He grins, “What, can’t see it?”

“The rule-breaking and lawlessness? Oh, absolutely. Pillaging and treasure-taking, not so much. You don’t seem the type.”

Steve gives a low-belly laugh.

“I’ll concede to that.”

“Though, now that I think about it,” you pull away just to appraise him. “Captain Rogers does have a certain ring to it if we’re dealing in the realm of piracy.”

He shakes his head, looking down at the book for a long, quiet moment.

“God,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve read this since I was a kid, actually.”

“You want it?”

His head whips back to look at you, an immediate shake of dismissal, “Nah. No, Athena, it’s yours. And it looks, truth be told, older than even me.”

“Well, that’s not much, considering,” you schmooze.

Pushing up from the chaise lounge, you swipe up the book for yourself. The raised leather feels familiar in your hand as you trace your index finger over the embossed green letters.

“It’s a signed copy, you know.”

You flip open the front cover to reveal the signature.

He blinks.

“You’re shitting me.”

“No,” you laugh, collapsing back on the lounge next to him with your legs tucked in under you. Shoving the book in his direction, you point to the dedication.

To Minnie, Wishing you a wonderful adventure. - Robert Louis Stevenson

“I was his nurse for about three months in 1884. Real sweet guy once you got him relaxed and comfortable. I think I have his copy of Jekyll and Hyde around here somewhere…”

Steve’s still staring at the words written in ink, so you carefully deposit the book into his lap. You lean back onto the opposite end of the lounge, waiting for him to say something.

“Minnie?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, however.

“Oh, yeah. That.” Rubbing at your arm, you look toward the shelf of books across from you. “Athena’s not too common of a name for most of history. I ended up going by the name the Romans gave me: Minerva. Minerva Polias; Minnie, for short.”

He nods, still a little transfixed.

“Do you still go by that, or…?”

You drop a hand on his arm and he immediately turns his attention toward you with wide blue eyes.

“Steve. Please. Never call me Minnie. I gave you my real name three years ago with the intention that you would use it. There’s no need for aliases between friends.”

He lets out a small breath as a sweet smile comes to his lips.

“Good,” he settles on. “Almost had me worried for a minute there.”

“Hey,” you bump his shoulder with your own. “Can I convince you to try and get some sleep? It’s almost two in the morning and I’d like you to be in top condition if you’re throwing that shield around tomorrow. Don’t need to have you taking off Clint’s head.”

“I wouldn’t - ” he starts to say, but the look on your face settles him. “Okay, fine. You too though.”

“Me too what?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“Sleep. You have to sleep sometime, I’m sure of it.”

With a shrug, you stand from the couch and offer him your hands, “If it’ll get you to try, I’ll do it.”

Steve chuckles, setting the book back down on the table before he pulls the drawstring on the lamp, pulling you both down into the heavy darkness of night.

“Guess it’ll have to,” he says, voice low as the embers of light fade away.

His hands slip into yours and you don’t really have to pull him up, but he allows your fingers to stay entwined all the same. Up the stairs you go, walking slowly to avoid the creaking steps, a hand still held in his.

On the third floor, you can hear the very gentle breaths of Bruce’s snoring from down the hallway. In the sliver of moonlight drifting through the stairwell’s window, you can make out Steve’s features. They’re chiseled like Grecian marble, his eyes are ablaze with the lonely dots of shimmering starlight.

You stop outside of his room, your hand slipping free from his hold.

“It’s a deal then?” you ask in a hushed tone. “You’ll try and sleep if I do the same?”

He nods as he looks down at you. His hands are shoved into his jean pockets.

“Can’t make any promises,” he admits with something somber in his words.

Unable to help yourself, you reach out your hand to cup his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch and you can feel him dip his head down into your palm. Dark eyelashes flutter closed.

You offer the supersoldier a sad smile.

With everything that had happened today and everything that was still to come, it would surprise you if Steve was able to even drift into a light sleep, let alone keep his thoughts at bay long enough to fall asleep.

You’re a little surprised when the man in front of you turns his head ever so slightly. His lips gently press against your open palm before his eyes blink open to look down at your surprised face.

“Get some sleep, Rogers,” you murmur, letting your hand drift back to your side, feeling a ball of tension building in your stomach. “I’m just across the hall.”

His eyes lift from your face to peer at the door directly behind you. A small smile appears on his lips.

Without another word, but several long looks, Steve goes into his guest room and you move across the hall to the room you had long ago claimed as yours. Your door clicks closed first, followed a moment later by the sound of his.

You do not sleep that night.

Your mind is a labyrinth of thoughts, and plans, and ideas that may or may not come to pass. Working through imaginary strategies well into the morning light. You do not feel the draw of exhaustion that you imagine your mortal friends do.

So, as the glimmer of orange and magenta light drifts over the horizon, you take hold of your pendant - still resting comfortably, if not heavily, against your bosom. You offer a silent prayer to whoever wishes to listen before you begin gathering your things.

Coffee is running in the pot for the others, though you have no real food to offer them. You knew Clint and Steve kept a well-stocked snack pouch in their go-bags; mostly granola bars and the like. But it would have to be enough for today.

The others emerge at their own pace, starting with Bruce and then Natasha. Followed by Clint and eventually Steve. The plan had been made the night before, when all six of you were still present, that no matter what, the five of you would leave on the quinjet this morning - regardless if Tony got into contact or not.

Which, he did, sometime just around 6:30.

“I found our ally. Had to pick up the pieces and reassemble him back together.”

“JARVIS?” someone had asked.

“He didn’t even know he was in there, that he was fighting back Ultron. He was still following protocols from within.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Still working on that,” he had said.

After placing the last coffee mug onto the drying rack, you take one final look around the house. It would be some time until you returned, you were sure of it.

Pallas is perched on the porch rails when you finally close the front door.

“Hey,” you coo with a soft sigh. “It’s gonna be a while till we see each other. I want you to head back home and stay there. Where we’re going is going be no place for you, bud.”

He bites your finger for good measure before he ruffles out his feathers and soars up into the early morning sky. Celestial blue starlight drifts behind him like a fluttering veil before he pops out of existence.

Steve’s waiting for you at the ramp, already dressed in his uniform - free of his helmet and shield for the time being.

“Once we’re twenty miles clear, we’ll open up the channels again,” Clint says, already behind the controls.

Tony had said there was a bag full of intel that Hill was waiting to tell you all. Settling into the seats behind Clint, you watch as the house grows smaller and smaller, and eventually, gives way to a projection of a forest canopy. And then you’re zipping across the landscape, ascending into the cloud coverage.

Only ten minutes out and they get their call from Hill. Steve watches as you begin to pace the length of the jet.

Right now, you were still down two players. Tony was wrapping things up in Oslo and Thor was still… nowhere to be found.

The public’s understanding of the entire situation was about as bad as it could be. Marking the team as the true villains of the day with endless coverage looping clips of the Hulk destroying Johannesburg and the two Gods going blow to blow in a debris-ridden New York street.

There were countless interviews with eyewitnesses and civilians who had been in the crossfire who praised the help they received from the Ultron bots. There was no mention of you or Sam in London, or Tony’s efforts to aid the people in South Africa.

For all the world knew right now, Ultron was their promised savior.

“What else?” you had asked, voice clipped as your head lay heavy in your palm.

Hill reported CCTV footage of the mutants in multiple locations across Sokovia’s capital city - seemingly hiding in alleyways and shadowy areas. As if trying to avoid detection.

“They flip sides?” Clint had questioned with a note of hope in his voice.

“Unknown,” was all Maria could offer you.

At least they had an answer for what Ultron had been seeking from Dr. Cho. For better or worse.

“A living body?”

“Well, that’s fucking terrifying.”

While they had been split across two continents, fighting mindless battles, Ultron had entered South Korea, otherwise undetected. He had used the scepter on not only Helen Cho but her entire team. Her precious cradle had been corrupted for his nefarious means.

She reported that the mutants, Pietro and Wanda she recalled, had left quite suddenly. And that it had been the girl who released Helen from her forced state. Ultron had escaped with the cradle right after. Helen and her team had been left completely unharmed.

As they crossed the Atlantic, only more questions lay heavy in the air. Multiple unknowns for what they might be walking into. While everyone appeared for all the world to be ready to face whatever lay ahead, Steve knew that appearances could be deceiving.

Just getting the wings fixed, Sam had texted him. Give me some coordinates and I’ll be there.

Steve had shown you the message, noticing a look of relief drifting across your features. He had almost forgotten how close of a call it had been at the Tower, thanks to everything else going on at the time. Between his own nightmarish memories and his need to get you and the God of Thunder away from each other before the city was destroyed any further.

“Only the Abomination could destroy something made out of Adamantine,” you had said with a slight shake of your head.

But as they draw closer to the country, Steve can feel the physical tension hanging in the air. So, when Clint calls out an ETA, the supersoldier stands up to address the team. If not to quell the anxiety in them, then perhaps to help with his own.

“Ultron likely knows we’re coming,” he starts, letting his hand fall onto the back of your chair. “Odds are we’ll be riding into heavy fire. And that’s what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn’t. So, our priority is getting them out. We find the cradle and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us.”

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Ultron… he thinks we’re monsters. That we’re what’s wrong with the world. It’s not just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.”

His eyes drift over to your face.

They all had been rattled by Bruce’s confession last night. And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying part of it all. He completely understood where the doctor was coming from. They were a rag-tail group of people from supremely different backgrounds who were supposed to be the elite protective force for the entire Earth.

And yet, there they were arguing over dinner, in a helicarrier with a scepter three feet away, in the middle of Manhattan.

Steve wouldn’t deny the fact that the team wasn’t perfect.

But the fact that Ultron propped himself up as the better option. An inhuman supercomputer who could decide the fate of everyone on the planet. No, even with all their imperfections, the Avengers Initiative was the best - the only - true option out there.

You nod, darkened eyes meeting Steve’s. And then a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I’m still not ghostwriting your speeches,” you mouth.

Steve looks down with a chuckle before he grips your shoulder. Staring out the window, he watches as the distant stretch of land peeks past the waves of rolling blue ocean.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

To Sleep With War

Modern AU Doephael.

Doe wrung her hands and stepped gingerly into the Yule party. She tottered in heeled boots, a tasteful cinnamon brown against the warm cream of cable-knit tights. She tugged self consciously at the hem of her faux suede skirt- it was borrowed, shorter than she was used to and flimsy feeling. The jumper was hers though, a big draping thing that near swallowed her in bright red fabric.

The room was sparsely decorated, with one sad tree in the corner draped with red and gold tinsel, the half facing out dotted with cheap shiny baubles. The gift boxes beneath were just empty, wrapped with the vestiges of paper from last year. Her colleagues milled about- there was Rolan, chatting animatedly with his siblings, Alfira and her girlfriend, and then Wyll’s father and Florrick, arguing in the corner.

Scanning the room- a standard hotel function with its greige walls and threadbare stained carpet- she spotted her boss. Hunching her shoulders, she slunk off in the opposite direction. I do not want to deal with you right now. Instead, she slunk around the edge of the room, watching for her friends. Ancunin’s hair would be easiest to spot, white as starlight as it was.

‘Don’t worry, Dodo,’ drawled a voice from her left. ‘I’ll protect you from that greasy little creep if I have to.’

‘Astarion,’ she yelped, turning. ‘How many times-‘

He cut her off. ‘Too many, I’m sure.’ She scowled in reproach and he sighed. ‘Oh, alright, you spoilsport. Doe. Sweet darling timid little Doe, when are you going to grow a spine?’ He stood there in his splendour, all in emerald green. The colour brought out his eyes, the olive depths of them flecked with honey. ‘You scrub up well, don’t you?’

‘You sound surprised.’ She did not have the energy to be insulted. ‘No no,’ he insisted. ‘I always knew there was a glamour-puss under the layers of exhausted, dogged loyalty to that prick,’ he glanced over. ‘Gortash doesn’t deserve your hard work. Or your sharp little brain.’ He tapped her forehead, throwing her a megawatt grin. ‘Come with me.’ He took her hand and drew her through the milling crowd- she spotted the Vanthampurs, the Thorms, several colleagues she’d never spoken to. ‘I need you to save Gale from himself. He’s going spare.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh, you’ll see.’

He led her to a corner table at the back of the room. Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach were sprawled in their chairs, and Gale was talking animatedly, frowning. ‘-see, the problem with having not just colleagues but donors present is that it technically means we’re still working-‘

‘Oh, do be quiet, Dekarios,’ griped Astarion as they approached. ‘Have some wine.’

‘I will not,’ said Gale, his nostrils flaring. ‘That stuff is vinegar. And not the good kind.’

‘Vodka?’ said Doe, producing a slim hip flask from her shoulder bag.

‘Hello Doe,’ said Gale, moving to hug her briefly. He smelled like the museum library. ‘Why did you bring vodka?’

‘If you have to ask,’ cut in Karlach, raising a brow, ‘then you’ve bonked your head.’

‘Ah,’ he said, nodding sympathetically. ‘Of course.’

‘You alright there, soldier?’

‘Can’t complain.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Wyll, jabbing a finger at her for emphasis. ‘That scabby little wanker treats you the worst of all of us. You’ve got every right to complain, love.’

‘Mhm, fair.’ She took a swig. ‘If you were Gort’s secretary you’d probably drink yourself into a stupor, too.’

‘Hear hear,’ came Shadowheart’s soft voice. ‘Have you been arguing with people again?’ Raising a brow at Gale, she crossed her arms.

‘Not at all, my love. Merely a lively discussion about why in the hells we’re expected to work at our own Yule party.’ He pulled her in to kiss her soundly, drawing twin noises of disgust from Lae’zel and Astarion.

‘I don’t much care, so long as we can all get trolleyed and sing bad karaoke.’

‘Jen-‘

‘Ah,’ she put a finger to his lips.

‘Shadowheart.’ He kissed her finger. ‘I’m just saying it’s important.’

Doe leaned against the table, still anxious. Wyll and Karlach started a game of snap behind her, Astarion nursing a glass of swill. She examined her nails, their glossy red suddenly feeling cheap against the hotel backdrop. There was a buffet on the opposite wall, but she dare not approach; her memories of the last one flashed through her mind, a night spent on the bathroom floor emptying the contents of her stomach.

‘I will say,’ she piped up, turning. ‘This fiasco is not my fault. I was off sick the day this place was booked. It was actually Orin’s incompetence. I would’ve booked a stately home or something, but it was too late to change the booking, and-‘

‘Where is that secretary of mine?’ she heard too late. Snapped from her rant by a hand on her shoulder, she was steered away too quickly, stumbling slightly in her heels. ‘There you are,’ said Gortash, his breath heavy with booze. ‘I want to show you off. You look fantastic.’

Oh no. ‘But-'

‘No no, this night will go off without a hitch,’ he said cheerily, a hint of threat in his voice. ‘As long as you do your damned job.’ ‘But I’m not working,’ she started.

‘Who pays your wages?’ he hissed. ‘That’s right. Me. Now get over here and charm these bastards, or you’re fired.’ His voice was low, so as not to call attention, and she bristled at his overly familiar touch.

Her shoulders slumped. I fucking hate you. ‘Right,’ she said flatly. She’d already written his speech- tonight was supposed to be a gala, a shindig, whatever the hells they called it when a load of insufferable-

‘Ketheric, you’ve met Doe before.’

‘Ah,’ said a man she recognised. ‘Yes. I seem to remember you as accomplished. Congratulations on being above the rest of this rabble.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. Judgy bastard.

‘Most accomplished, yes,’ said Gortash. ‘Though I am certain she has other more useful talents.’

She shuddered, disgusted at the oiliness of his tone. He squeezed her shoulder in warning. ‘I read Classics,’ she supplied pointedly. ‘Specifically studying the intersection between the…’ she began, though the words died as her boss dug his yellowing nails in, painfully. ‘I mean,’ she said, suddenly sounding saccharine. ‘I have to say, the Watch has really expanded its scope, and in the new year we’re hoping to put all this generous funding to use on the new site. I’m sure you’re aware of the challenges we’re facing? Protesters and activists, the journalists are not happy with the state of progress. Your generosity is wonderful and very much needed.’

‘Good girl,’ murmured Gortash low in her ear as she finished her spiel, feeling bile rise in her throat. He let her go and wandered tipsily off to harass a waitress, and Doe let out a breath.

‘Well,’ said Ketheric politely. ‘I think maybe you’ve twisted my arm, Doe. I shall have to have a think about what we can give once dinner is concluded. Isn’t it true that places like this are only as good as their admin?’ He winked, turning away to talk to his wife, an ethereal looking woman in silver and white. Doe rolled her shoulders and clenched her fists, breathing through her mouth in an effort not to throw up. The clock on the wall read as barely 8pm, and already she wanted desperately to go home and scrub herself clean. She took a couple tottering steps back towards her friends, but warm fingers closed around her wrist, halting her. She turned, half expecting Gortash’s return.

‘Forgive me,’ said the man who held her arm. ‘I heard you mention you studied Classics, and I’d be fascinated to hear more. Would you please?’ He gestured to the chair across from him and she nodded, standing awkwardly. He was handsome in a rich man sort of way- sharply pressed Italian cut suit, neatly combed dark hair, and skin that clearly saw the sun. But it was his voice, the low, growling purr of it, that arrested her attention. He threw her a charming smile, eyes glittering like the two fingers of cognac in the glass on the table. ‘You’re shaking,’ he pointed out.

She was, she realised. Her hands trembled at her sides. Exhaling, she tried to smile. ‘Oh, I’m fine, actually, I think I should go back to my friends.’

‘Take a moment. He scares you, doesn’t he?’

Astute. ‘No.’

‘Come now,’ he said, looking unimpressed. ‘If you can’t be honest with a stranger, who can you be honest with?’

‘A little.’

‘He treats you poorly.’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘Sit with me.’

‘I shouldn’t really,’ she said shyly. ‘I’m technically working.’

‘At a party?’ he said incredulously. ‘Absolutely not. You enjoy yourself. I’m not sure I caught your name though, my dear.’

‘Doe.’

‘Doe. A sweet name for a sweet face. Named for deer or rabbit?’

She blinked in surprise. ‘Rabbit, actually. Most people just assume deer…’

‘I take pride in paying attention,’ he said. ‘You must have a libation for telling your tale. Please.’ He gestured to the glass of cognac. ‘Try it. I insist.’

She didn’t know how he knew she never had, and didn’t want to question it. ‘I… sorry. I’ll just get another glass, I have some vodka in my-‘

‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘Go on.’ He pushed the glass toward her. ‘You don’t look contagious.’ He smiled, almost daring her to do it.

‘Okay.’ She perched gingerly on the edge of the chair opposite him and picked up the glass, turning the amber liquid this way and that. Taking a small sip, she coughed as it burned down her throat.

‘Small steps,’ said the stranger. ‘Give it a moment to develop.’

After the burn was a blooming of flavour- oak and sweet spice, vanilla and caramel. ‘Oh, it’s really nice. I like that.’

He watched her set down the glass, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Auspicious. Now, tell me your opinion of that new translation of The Odyssey, would you? I fear I might die of boredom if that slimy little employer of yours approaches me again.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I hope he doesn’t hear you saying that.’

‘I hope he does,’ he snarled. ‘He ought to be brought low, that one. You can tell me how you ended up in his service another time. Please, go on.’

‘Oh, well,’ she said. ‘I think the new translation is good, definitely more accessible for the layperson, but I do think it misses some of the magic of the original. Sometimes the value in these texts, I find, is in untangling them. And if there’s nothing to untangle, it feels a little bit soulless. There’s value in it for sure, but I didn’t fall in love with Classics as a discipline because it was easy.’

‘Well said.’ He smiled, sipped from the glass. ‘Would you like some more?’ He placed it in front of her.

‘I shouldn’t.’

‘That,’ he said slyly, ‘isn’t what I asked.’

She blushed, embarrassed. ‘Well. Yes, I would. As a matter of fact.’

‘Then drink.’

She drank. ‘I don’t miss my uni days,’ she continued, unprompted. ‘They were pretty awful, broadly speaking. A lot of my lecturers seemed to really be stuck in the dark ages-‘

‘Such is the life of an academic,’ he sighed dramatically. ‘I can’t say I miss my university days, either. Though they’re doubtless much further away than yours.’

‘I’m 30,’ she said. ‘And frankly it was this job or rot in obscurity at home.’

‘30 whole years? You jest, surely?’ His eyes widened and he leaned forward. ‘Why, you look positively cherubic.’

She frowned slightly, unsure how to take the theatricality in stride. ‘Well,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m glad to be here, no matter what age. Better to live than the alternative, no?’

‘Certainly.’ He smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth. ‘Though not under the thumb.’

‘I’m not.’

He regarded her silently for a moment. His gaze seemed to burn, her stomach swooping. Even when she looked away, his eyes did not waver. ‘Hmmm. Indeed. Listen, you go home. Have a nice evening. I’ll deal with him. But…’ he looked suddenly more intense, reaching into his suit pocket. ‘Take my card. I’d hate for this to be our first and last meeting, Doe. You’re wasted in a place like this. Now go, slip away before he notices.’

‘This is a really bad idea.’

‘The very best kind,’ he said with a quirk of the brow. His eyes gleamed conspiratorially.

She took the card. ‘Thank you. Who should I ask for when I call?’

‘I am Raphael,’ he said, taking her small hand in his to shake firmly. ‘It's been a pleasure. I hope we see one another again soon.’

‘See you,’ she said, rising to her feet. With a quick glance around, she scurried off to the exit, slipping into the night.

‘Get home safe,’ he said, voice carrying to her on the wind as she closed the door.

Huddling into her jumper, she began the short walk home. Her hands fumbled the keys, it was so cold; letting herself into her flat finally, she sighed in relief, locked the door, and stripped out of her uncomfortable clothes. ‘Fucking hell,’ she said, peeling back her tights to reveal bloody blisters. ‘I need to quit my job.’

She showered, ate a chocolate bar, and ignored the dishes in the sink that had been there for the last week in favour of texting the number on the glossy black business card in her pocket.

Hey, she wrote. I’m home safe. Thank you for looking out for me today. I appreciate it. -Doe

Not five minutes later came the response:

You said you were going to call. -R

Her stomach flipped. It’s a little late.

Many words or sleep, yes. I understand. Sweet dreams, little Doe. -R

The very counterfeit of death. It’s nice that you understand. Goodnight.

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @12thhouse-sun

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee @m00kieblaylock

[artwrite]

Human in Avalon- Chapter 1

The Big Change

Note: Heyo! This is just one of a couple stories I'm going through writing at the moment. I just wanted to post something and get the overhanging anxiety cloud off my back lol. i hope you enjoy.

Just go my AO3 account so this chapter/story is also available here: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/63283879"><strong>Human in Avalon</strong></a> (3601 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artwrtiesawalii"><strong>Artwrtiesawalii</strong></a><br />Chapters: 1/?<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Original%20Work">Original Work</a><br />Rating: Teen And Up Audiences<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Summary: <p>Arthur is a normal book shop owner, looking to live his humble life the best he can, but that changes when a strange woman walks into his shop.</p>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63283879

Relevant tags: kidnapping, scars

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Arthur woke in his full sized bed, just as his alarm went off. Arthur looked toward the window seeing the sky was still a dark indigo blue. Even in the dark however Arthur could hear the chirping sounds of a lark calling out. He lifted his head from his pillow, scratched it, hidden by his mop of unruly hair. Arthur yawned, stretching his arms out wide as he got himself up from his bed. The room was dark, a faint glow coming from the early morning sky. Arthur pressed his toes into the carpet of his floor. He huffed trying to wake himself up. Arthur rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Arthur turned his head back and forth stretching out his back, and he pulled his arms across his chest to stretch out his shoulders. Once he’d done his stretching he looked around for a moment. His clock read 5:30, Arthur clicked his side table lamp on. The bright light filled his bedroom and Arthur sighed tiredly.  

Once he got up Arthur did about ten pushups to get his blood pumping and he got up off the floor.

 He walked up to his dresser getting out of his pajamas and pulling out a pair of brown slacks, a green and yellow sweater vest, as well as a white button up to go under it, he laid the clothes out on the bed as he went into the bathroom to brush his hair and teeth. His hair was a dark chestnut brown, it had been quite a few years since he’d seen a barber for his hair. Even after all these years, just thinking about it made him nervous. 

Arthur wasn't very much of a people person, too much in his life caused him to lose his trust in people. Arthur was one to depend on himself, especially since…

Arthur took off his pajamas looking at himself in the mirror. Arthur was covered in freckles, he lifted his hand looking at one of the long jaggad scars on his chest under his pecs moving past his ribs to the back. 

Feeling the scars on his chest caused a bit of an ache around his ribs, but it was something he tried to accept, it was an important choice he had to make, had he been in that situation again arthur would have made the same voice all over again. Arthur tried to ignore his flaws by focusing on the other things he had in his control. 

Arthur turned on his shower and jumped in to clean himself off. The brit lathered himself up, washing his body, his hair, and making sure he was clean as a whistle. For a moment he let the drops of water fall on his face and flow down his body, Arthur sighed, feeling the water fall down on him. The water was a nice temperature, and it felt good to him. Arthur rolled his neck and he pressed his fingers into his shoulders trying to loosen them up. Arthur checked the time, from the clock hanging on his bathroom wall and he grumbled knowing he should get out now if he wanted to be on time to work.

Once he stepped out; Arthur brushed his teeth, and he looked over his face in the mirror. 

Arthur's prettiest feature was his emerald green eyes, they popped from his shaggy brown hair and light olive skin.

Arthur wasn't the best with self care, nor even his own maintenance. He did alright making sure he got through the day, but often he allowed himself to live minute by minute. Arthur was thin as a beanpole- purple bags under his eyes and skin that was meant to be washed more often than it actually was. Arthur thought for a moment about his interactions with people. It wasn't very often that he got to have a solid conversation with people, Arthur was normally relegated to a background person, someone to be forgotten. Unfortunately his customers were not the only ones who forgot him regularly. Unfortunately, he was a forgettable person.

Arthur pulled on the sweater vest, the slacks and his brown loafers. He grabbed a watch for his wrist and put on a necklace, tucking it under his shirt, but only after he placed a kiss on it.

Arthur went into the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. Arthur was very careful about how he took care of his tea, checking it frequently to make sure that it was going to come out the way he wanted. Arthur finished and he sat in his breakfast nook sipping at his black tea. 

Across from him, hanging on the wall, was a photo of Arthur's mother. The brit sighed looking at the picture as he propped his head up on his hand. 

Arthur looked the woman over, she had caramel skin, his green eyes, and long wavy ebony hair. The woman had always worn a red scarf around her hair as pictured in the photo. The woman was a true bohemian, not just a woman chasing after a style, she came from the people the stereotype was based off of. Arthur always wondered why his mother had kept that to herself… Arthur finished his tea and walked over to the picture, after taking care of the tea cup.

“I love you mum.” Arthur whispered. He kissed his fingers then pressed them on the photo. Arthur thought back to his favorite memory of his mother. Arthur and her used to spend a lot together. There were many cups of tea they shared, many hugs, many kisses. His mother always took care of him. Even if it went against others. Arthur tried his best to clear his mind then he grabbed his keys. 

Arthur opened his front door looking around outside as he turned and locked the door. Arthur’s front door was three floors up, up three flights of stairs from the ground below. As it was every day, the alley was empty- save for the garbage of several different businesses. As the brit turned to go down his stairs there was a coo from his 85 year old neighbor. Arthur looked up, the short woman, with short curly hair, and beady eyes behind thick glasses was waving at Arthur, trembling like a tiny dog. Arthur decided to wave back and he gave a gentle smile. 

The two never really spoke. Just waved at each other. 

Arthur started his way down the stairs, whistling a little tune. Once he hit the ground, Arthur continued whistling going around the corner to reach the front of his bookstore. 

The sign above was off but read Page Turners. Decorated with creatures of fantasy, a unicorn, and a dragon on either side.

Arthur walked up to the double doors and slid the key to the door into a lock. Arthur opened the door and when he walked in, the bell rang through the space of the shop.

His bookshop was small, a tiny corner hidden in the vast streets of london. However, despite that, Arthur was still able to appeal to a wide demographic. The store was small but had a good selection of books. His tall shelves helped with that, and he had a second story up a ladder holding even more books. 

Arthur turned on the lights- sign included, flipped his door sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, and started to dust all the shelves. It always surprised Arthur how much dust could accumulate over the night. 

Once the doors opened, it was only a matter of minutes before the bell of his front door started to ring. His first customers of the day looked to be an older couple, who came in every day.

Arthur’s shop was a good shop for students in university, especially in folklore. He may not be a university book shop, however he had a knack for finding obscure texts. Arthur made sure all his shelves were organized, and once everything was nice and everything was in its place- Arthur went to his occult section and chose a book to read. 

Arthur opened the book on witchcraft and started to read it, he flipped through the pages letting himself mentally sink into the book. When the older couple came up to the checkout counter, Arthur smiled as he checked them out.

Arthur ate his lunch quietly as a group of students opened his door walking inside and starting to look around. The students whispered to one another starting to spread out.

“Please let me know if there's anything I can help you find.” Arthur greeted as the students dispersed within the shop.

Arthur put down his sandwich and sipped at his tea, putting it down so he could continue to read. 

A girl with bright golden hair and blue eyes stepped into the shop causing the bell to ring, and b-lined to Arthur's desk. Arthur placed a hand over his tea to cover the spoon inside stirring itself.

“Hello, I wondered if you have an occult section.” the girl asked. Arthur thought it was strange to see such a young girl in his shop, but he wasn't one to scold.

“Absolutely, please follow me.” Arthur put down his sandwich and book, then walked toward the back of his shop. Arthur motioned to the few bookcases he had filled with occult books, and mythologies.

“Anything specific you’re trying to find?” Arthur asked, scooping up some loose books.

“No, thank you for your help.” the girl said politely. She almost seemed to ignore Arthur, just as everyone else usually did.

Arthur decided to leave her to it and started back to the desk holding his lunch.

“Let me know if there's anything else I can help with.” he called as he left. Arthur sat back down, continuing his lunch and drinking his tea. Arthur picked his book back up, making notes from the book every so often. 

The girl who came in asking Arthur for help grabbed a few books and she cleared her throat to get the shop owner’s attention.

“All ready?” Arthur asked putting everything down again to take her over to the checkout counter.

“Yes, you have quite the collection on the occult.” the girl said, looking toward the back. Arthur looked where she was staring and all he could see was she was looking at Arthur's little tea station. Arthur decided to look at the books she’d selected. Arthur noticed a theme, the girl had taken a few folklore books on the fair folk. 

“Doing some research?” Arthur asked, scanning the barcodes on the back of the books.

“No, you could say I'm collecting different books on the fae.” The girl chuckled.

“Nothing wrong with that, I have quite the collection myself.” Arthur smiled at the girl bagging the books. The girl pulled out a crisp £100 note and Arthur gave her the change. 

“Thank you for coming in today.” Arthur said with a smile.

The girl gave a slight nod with her head and she walked out, seeming to step carefully. 

Arthur watched as the girl walked out and the bell rang behind her as she walked out to the street.

Arthur walked back to his desk, resuming his lunch and going back to reading his book. 

His customers came and went throughout the day, as every day. 

Arthur moved through his average day as he always did, cleaning up after his customers, selling books, and reshelving as much as he could. The day moved faster the busier he was. A double edged blade, but he preferred having to move quickly.

By five the younger crowd was released and his comic section was in shambles. The primary school children weren't the best at keeping clean, and Arthur didn't always have the chance to keep up with them either.

Arthur started his rush as the children and university students started their orders up. Arthur also started distributing the previous orders. The line for orders went around the shop and almost out the door. Arthur switched quickly between handing out orders and placing them. Some paid for placing them, some paid picking them up. It was nearly an even split between textbooks, folklore, and comics. Arthur tried to keep his eyes off the clock, and made sure that he used the light outside as his time keeper. The sky slowly got darker and darker and before Arthur knew it, they were nearly closing. The line shrank slowly one by one. Arthur finished the last of the orders and the customers started to clear out as soon as Arthur's huge grandfather clock started to strike nine. The clock standing at the head of the stairs on his second floor gonged out, and there were some complaints from the leftover students but they all walked out dutifully. 

Arthur allowed himself a sigh of relief. Arthur finished out a few transactions. 

As soon as the last customer left out the front door Arthur followed them and locked the door behind them.

Arthur turned the sign around, and got started in the comic section. It was a special mess tonight. Dark horse was mixed with DC and Arthur found a manga sitting with the iron man graphic novels. Arthur got started organizing out the comics, starting to get the mess straightened out.

Arthur was only pulled from his focus by the bell at the door.

Arthur paused for a moment looking around confused. He hadn't heard any banging to show a person had broken through the lock. Arthur got up for a moment abandoning the comic section.

“Hello?” Arthur called. Arthur walked toward the front of the store, checking around the corners trying to find anyone or anything that could have been a source of the noise.

Arthur stepped out to his checkout counter. “If you’re still here I'm sorry but we've already closed.” Arthur looked around again trying to find the source of the sound.

Arthur jumped when he heard the bell again. Arthur turned, seeing the door wide open, he figured he must have forgotten to lock the door and the wind had blown it open.

“I swore I locked that.” Arthur tried to shrug the event off and he locked the door once again, and turned his attention back to the comic section. He really needed to clean that comic section before he left for the night.

“Hello.” a voice sounded.

Arthur jumped at that, biting back a yelp from his fear.

“Oh goodness…” Arthur huffed in relief. “I'm sorry but we’re closed.” Arthur looked at that same girl from this morning.

“Oh what a shame… I just wanted to order another book, and I hoped to ask a few questions of your own collection as well." Arthur looked her over once again, she was dressed the same as she was before, very professional for how young she looked, possibly a teen, but she was dressed like a career woman. Black pumps, a form fitting knee length shirt and a woman’s suit jacket over a blue button up. 

“W-well… I'm not sure how much I could help.” Arthur admitted crossing his arms.

“Could I have your name?” she asked. Out of her pocket came a pad, she pushed a button and the black metal cover flipped open. Out of her breast pocket came a smoothe black pen.

The movement was so smooth, as if meticulously practiced day by day.

“O-oh, are you with the university?” Arthur asked. He must have misjudged her age. She also had some sort of air about her seemingly going through the motions. 

“Why yes.” she answered with a pleasant smile. “Would you give me your name?” she asked once again.

“Why yes, my name is Arthur Carter.” Arthur answered. “May I have yours as well?” Arthur asked.

She jotted his name down, and she looked up for a moment with a smirk across her lips.”Dara, could we do this over tea?” she asked next.

“Let me close… the shop isn't fit for company at the moment." Arthur explained.

“Of course.” she replied. “I'll meet you outside.”

The woman walked outside as she was writing things down, she barely moved to open the door.

Once she was out and the door behind her closed, Arthur rushed to find his keys. If he could become associated with the university he could get access to so much more. Student clientele, books, he could even try to expand to the abandoned space next door. 

Arthur turned off the lights, deciding to leave the comic section for the morning and he got out the door locking it behind him.

“I hope you don't mind, but I live so close, and I'm very particular about my tea.” Arthur posited, “but I understand if you feel more comfortable at a cafe.”

“I'd much prefer to try yours.” the strange auditor replied. Arthur’s mind flashed to this morning when she had looked at Arthur's tea station. He tried not to think much of that, perhaps she had her reasons. 

Arthur made small talk as they walked up the alleyway stairs to reach his apartment door.

“You’re quite young for a university worker.” arthur commented.

“Well you could say I'm doing this as a favor.” she said, holding the pad to her chest.

Arthur opened the door, holding it open for the woman.

“Welcome to my humble home.” Arthur drew her attention to the small dining nook by the door and pulled out a chair for her. The lady took her seat and started jotting once again.

Arthur got the kettle on and started to look through his collection of teas.

“Anything you’d like?” Arthur asked. He wondered if she was particular about her tea as well.

“I’d like to try your best cup if that’s possible.” she asked.

His best cup? Arthur shook it off and decided to use his mother’s special mix.

“Tell me about yourself.” she asked as Arthur rummaged around looking for the good tea cups.

“Well I'm London bred. I went to the university. I worked for some time at the London library before moving into the private sector.”

Arthur found his good tea set and put the tea in his diffuser, and readied two cups, taking care to make sure there was no dust in the cups. Arthur set them carefully on saucers and put some sugar in his sugar dish and filled the milk pot. He placed them all on a silver serving tray waiting for the kettle to come to temperature. He walked over to the table and sat down.

“What exactly led to the shop?” she asked as she continued her scribbling.

“I came into an inheritance.” Arthur admitted. Leaving it at that.

The young woman nodded her head, as if understanding, continuing her writing.

“I’ll just tend to the cuppa.” Arthur got up to answer the whistling kettle.

Arthur brought his tea set out and brought out the already steeping tea.

“How would you like your tea?” Arthur asked, starting to pour her cup.

“Exactly how you make it.” she answered.

Arthur tried to hide his confusion. He’d never had that request before, not that he got many requests. Arthur decided to comply with the strange request and gave her the tea. Arthur made his own cup, nearly taking a sip when he saw that she had finished hers. 

Arthur wondered how quickly she had drank the tea.

The woman leaned back, heaving a great sigh.

“You have no idea how long I've been looking for a good cup of tea. I think that settles it.”

“W-wait really?” Arthur looked up in shock.

“Yes, it’s been decided.” the woman pulled a small object out of her hip pocket. It looked like a small rainbow opal, Arthur tried not to read too much into it and tried to keep his eyes on her face.

“Well, I'm sure I still have to meet someone else?” Arthur stood as she did and followed her to the door.

“Well, you’ll only end up meeting him because I think you’re good enough.” The woman pointed the small thing at Arthur's front door lock. She pressed her thumb into it and Arthur stepped back, seeing a light shine along the edges of his front door. After a moment the shimmering faded into a dull glow. 

“w-what-”

“Come, Arthur Carter.” the woman’s voice reverberated through Arthur's mind, as she cut him off. His legs responded before his head could think. He slowly stepped forward, his loafers sliding over the carpet in his parlor.

She opened the door revealing nothing but soft light. The blue glow nearly looked like it was leading him to heaven. Arthur felt his heart starting to thump hard in his chest. 

“It's time for me to get you home.” she waved him forward to enter through the doorway. Arthur could see shimmering over the woman’s figure out of the corner of his eye, as he slowly made his way to the door.

Arthur’s feet took him to the stoop and he managed to stop himself, placing a hand on the doorframe.

“I have your name.” she whispered as she stepped forward, leaning into his ear. Arthur felt her hand, her nails had grown longer and she dug them into his shoulder.

“Your new life awaits you.” she breathed, stepping around him. Her voice echoed around him, reverberating through his ears, and ringing in his mind.

“Come, Arthur Carter.” her command shook him to the core. It felt as if there was a string connected to his belly button pulling him forward. His breath hitched and he stepped through the door and into the light, falling into glowing clouds.

[getyourhomedecor]

What Colors Go with a Blue Rug? Stylish Combinations and Decorating Tips

Whether they are a striking teal, a gentle sky blue, or a deep navy, blue rugs are unquestionably stylish. But how about matching them with the appropriate hues? Things get complicated at that point. The good news is that blue complements a wide range of colours, from rich, vivid tones to warm neutrals. Do you want to make a striking contrast? Red rugs for living room can produce an eye-catching yet well-balanced aesthetic. Would you rather have something calmer? Blue can look great with earthy greens, soft greys, or even creams. I'll go over the ideal colour combinations for blue carpets in this post, along with styling advice to help your room look put together. Are you prepared to update your living area? Let's get started!

1. Classic Neutrals: The Indisputable Complement:

Neutral hues are your best friend if you want to maintain an attractive and timeless look. Any hue of blue rug will seem harmonious and soothing when used with white, beige, grey, taupe, and cream.

-White & Blue: A deep blue rug next to a white sofa or walls? Total sophistication.

-Beige & Blue: The room feels warm and welcoming as the warm beige hues temper the striking blue.

-Grey & Blue: Cool grey tones combined with lighter or deeper blues create a sleek, modern look.

-Blue and Taupe: Grey-brown combination (Taupe), is the perfect balance for a neutral yet vibrant look.

2. Vibrant and Lovely: Vibrant Contrasting Colours:

Now, don't be scared to combine your blue rug with striking, opposing colours if you enjoy a little drama and individuality. Finding the ideal mix is crucial to making the space feel lively without being overpowering.

Contrasting Combos You Must Try:

a. Red & Blue: In a layered style, a red rug for the living room looks well with a blue rug. For a luxurious, regal vibe, choose traditional oriental or Persian rugs.

b. Mustard Yellow & Blue: Mustard gives blue pop its greatest possible warmth and vigour.

c. Emerald Green and Blue: These cool hues produce an elegant, jewel-toned look that exudes luxury.

d. Burnt Orange & Blue: An accent chair or sofa with a bright burnt orange colour scheme offers a vibrant, surprising touch.

Pro-Tip: Balance is essential when utilizing vibrant colours. To prevent the colours from overpowering the area, keep at least 60% of the space neutral if you're going for a bold blue and mustard yellow motif.

3. Natural & Earthy: A Calm Ambiance:

If, like me, you prefer the cozy, welcoming feel of a room, it's obvious that you should match your blue rug with earthy colours. Think about the terracotta, olive green, sandy beige, and deep woody tones seen in nature. These colours balance out blue's chill and give a space a naturally cozy, grounded feel.

How to Look Perfect:

-For a rich, earthy vibe, set a deep navy blue rug with wood furniture and throw pillows in olive green.

-Use woven materials to add to the natural feel, such as wicker or rattan.

-Add terracotta and gentle browns to add warmth without overpowering the blue.

Pro-Tip: Want to feel comfortable without exerting yourself? Add soft materials, such as a wool throw, linen drapes, or a faux fur accent, to further highlight the warm, earthy aesthetic.

4. Monochrome Magic: Blending Different Shades of Blue:

Let's face it, combining several blue hues may seem like a bold move, but I promise you that it's actually one of the simplest methods to create an effortlessly stylish look in your room. The secret is to overlay many tones for a rich, unified vibe rather than attempting to match every single shade precisely (because who has time for that?).

Blue-on-Blue Combo Wins:

-Navy + Sky Blue: A deep navy carpeting and sky-blue pillows create a calm, airy vibe without being overly coordinated.

-Dusty Blue + Teal: This combination of subdued blue and melancholy teal produces a rich, contemporary look that shouts style goals.

-Royal Blue + Pastel Blue: A striking blue rug and gentle pastel blue walls create a light and open space.

Pro-Tip: What's the secret to the success of this? More, more, more texture! It may appear flat if all the materials are the same. Add some velvet pillows, linen drapes, a woven pouffe, or a chunky knit throw to add some variation. Boom! Your room now has character and depth.

5. Metallic Details: A Little Glitz:

Want to give your room a more upscale air while still enhancing your blue rug? Accents that are metallic are the solution. Metallics, whether gold, silver, or bronze, give off a glamorous vibe and mix well with blue.

Adding Metallic Elements:

-Navy + Gold Imagine a few gold candlesticks, a deep navy rug, and a mirror with a gold frame. Instant opulence!

-Silver + Ice Blue: Silver is a favourite colour of cooler blues. Consider elegant metal vases, silver table lamps, or a striking chrome coffee table.

-Bronze + Teal - Bronze accentuates the warm side of teal brilliantly. Consider using old-fashioned trays, lamp fixtures, or bronze picture frames.

FAQs:

1. Can I use a blue rug with different patterns?

Of course! I suggest varying it, but only make one pattern the focal point and allow the others to support it. Try using smaller, more delicate designs on your drapes or throw pillows to counterbalance the big geometric design on your blue rug, for example.

2. What effect does lighting have on a blue rug's appearance?

Lighting is really important! Warm artificial lighting can make a blue rug seem richer and cozier, while natural light accentuates the rug's colder tones. Before making a decision, always examine your rug sample under various lighting circumstances.

3. Are bright or dark blue rugs more appropriate for tiny areas?

Lighter blue rugs, such as sky blue or pastel tints, seem to open up a tiny space, in my experience. Lighter furnishings and décor help balance out darker blues, like navy.

[911described]

[Image description: 30 second promo trailer for 911 season 7.

The thumbnail is Tommy and Hen standing beside a helicopter on a roof, both looking towards it. Tommy smiles as he touches the side of the door and Hen looks into the back in surprise.

Daytime, Athena sits on a chair in a casual office, wearing a long-sleeved pastel-pink rib-knit high-neck sweater. We see her side-on, tilting her head seriously to someone off camera, as she says "last week".

She fades out and the camera fades up, moving back and zooming out on Bobby and Athena taking a step towards each other in a crowded ballroom, as a woman sings with a band on stage. Athena says, "my husband", emphasis on the second word. Bobby is wearing a pale blue button-up shirt with a darker blue pinstripe check pattern, under a navy blue suit jacket. Athena is in a golden yellow dress with a sweetheart neckline and a single crossbody strap over her right shoulder.

Athena's voiceover continues, "he booked us on a cruise", as Athena slides her free hand up from Bobby's chest to his shoulder and he starts to sway them jauntily.

The image fades out and we then see the cruise ship, sailing towards a sunrise. We see over Athena’s shoulder at Bobby sitting at the edge of the bed in their cabin, without his suit jacket. He says something and raises his head, eyebrows going up slightly as though waiting for an answer, while we hear Athena continue, "it's kinda a belated honeymoon".

As she says, "honeymoon," we see Athena, now facing away from Bobby and looking off to the side then ahead in contemplation. Over someone's shoulder, we see Athena in the office again, lip curled in an incredulous sneer and shaking her head sharply as she admits "I'm terrified."

Frank is in his wheelchair, and wears a pale olive-green button-up shirt under a maroon sweater and navy blue chinos. On the exposed brick wall behind him are a number of photo frames, with a few certificates and a photo of a fire engine. He opens his hand towards Athena, from where it rests on his yellow notepad, and frowns and nods rapidly as he reassures, "I'm sure you'll be fine."

Three speed boats race across the open ocean. A grappling hook flies over the edge of the cruise ship, bouncing on the ground before latching onto the railing. A pale skinned man jogs down external stairs, wearing an ear piece and a camouflage vest and holding an automatic rifle up. Behind him, another gunman rushes forwards, gun pointed ahead. We hear someone shouting "get down!"

A muscly gunman holds a gun down at his side as he pushes two tourists against the outside of the deck. Inside, in an airy carpeted space, clusters of people lie on the floor as we hear another voice bark out "stay down!". A resounding drum beat starts, getting faster and faster.

All around the pool side, people kneel in a line. On the near side, with their backs to the camera, are Bobby and Athena, along with three other people. On the left, Bobby wears a bright red button up shirt with dark jeans and black suede boot. Next to him, Athena wears a lavender linen shirt, white slightly cropped cigarette cut trousers and white sneakers.

Two people down, a man in a white shirt and black formal trousers is being pushed to his knees by one gunman as another stands guard in front of Bobby.

Someone with dark hair picks an axe up from where it is held above a porthole. A computer screen changes from 99% to 100%, with text about terminal servers next to it and other windows open behind it with various code.

There's an explosion in the lower decks. The ship tilts into the rocky ocean. The drumming stops.

Ruelle's Hold Your Breath starts playing, as red text reading "Thursday March 14" slams onto a black screen. A high pitched female voice sings "hold your breath" as Hen stands in the dispatch centre, head jutting urgently forwards as she asks "I'm looking for Captain Nash and his wife". She is wearing a white v-neck t-shirt under a cream zip front short sleeved silk bowling shirt with a decorative pink rose pattern around the collar and on either side of the zip. The rest of the shirt shows places around California, such as see the redwood trees in Yosemite, and Griffith Park observatory.

As Hen continues, "I can't find their cruise ship," we see Bobby walking along an external corridor, everything obscured by heavy mist. The ship name, The Uno, is written beside him. He strides forwards purposefully, head moving as though searching for something. Athena is in the lower decks, bathed in red light and surrounded by pipes as she clutches onto them on either side. She leans to one side as she tries to stay upright.

The firehouse alarm sounds, and Buck and Eddie turn from facing each other in the firehouse bay. Buck looking upwards in mild annoyance as Eddie runs away. Eddie is wearing his LAFD t-shirt while Buck has the LAFD long sleeved sweater.

A male voice announces "dispatch all emergency rescue units", while Ruelle sings "don't let go". At night, Tommy and Hen walk alongside a yellow and white LAFD helicopter on a roof. Tommy smiles as he opens the door and Hen looks into the back in surprise, as we see Eddie smiling warmly out at her. Tommy is wearing a LAFD helicopter pilot's flight suit.

Buck, Chim and Eddie sit in the back of the helicopter, all wearing their wet weather turn outs and looking out at Hen. Buck looks worried and serious, Chim crosses his arms with an unimpressed frown, and Eddie pouts as he holds out Hen's turnout coat, to go over her long-sleeved uniform.

"9-1-1 comes to abc" is written in red and white gradient text, on a red and blue gradient background. Hen shuts the helictoper's door.

The helicopter rocks violently, and Tommy looks over at Hen as he says "we're flying into a hurricane", the final word emphasised in annoyance.

The sky is bright pink around them, as Hen goes from looking out the window to quickly turning to a person behind her, waving her hand frantically as she says “go back, go back, that’s it"

Ruelle sings, "I feel it coming" as the camera bursts out of the water, revealing the capsized ship in the background, a life buoy in the foreground being buffeted by the waves. A helicopter light approaches the ship. Athena crouches in the dark, a close-up on her turning to look over her shoulder, lips parted and eyes wide in fear.

From under the helicopter, we approach the ship on its side in the water, at a 45 degree angle, all its lights on. The sun is rising in the background. The 9-1-1 and abc logos are on screen, along with "season premiere Thurs March 14"

/end ID]

costume details provided by @stagefoureddiediaz

(People article too)

[ed3nang3l]

I’m bored so i’ve started writing a story on wattpad, thought i’d post chapter one here as well cuz yk y not?

Operation Cattivo

Undercover Agent Aurora Banks has been sent to infiltrate the Angelo family, a powerful Mafia family in Sicily, Italy. After all, Agent Aurora Banks is well known for her organized and logical thinking. No one doubted that she'd succeed in this operation, not even herself. As far as she was concerned, she was ready for anything! Well, almost anything - she was not ready to bump into her rival, Agent Lola Rodríguez, on the same operation.

Tw: she like kills a rat, first time writing, probs lots of mistakes

• • •

The stunning green eyes of a woman scanned the dim alleyway, taking in her miserable surroundings. The glistening moonlight illuminated the grimy walls of the run down buildings that towered over, casting shadows that danced beneath the flickering street lamps. The overpowering stench of the vile mixture of the must from the narrow passageway and the acrid fumes of stale cigarette smoke invaded her senses. The sound of her leather boots echoed against the damp pavement that lay underneath her sturdy heels, the noise bouncing off the brick walls and settling in the suffocating atmosphere.

As the figure paused before a dilapidated hotel, the atmosphere grew darker. With a quick fumble in the pocket of her black cargo pants, the woman retrieved her phone and flipped it open, the faint glow casting shadows along the dusty walls and brightening the scene.

She reached out to the stiff door handle, the cobwebs that dressed the old timber door in veils of fine, white lace breaking under her rough touch. The creaking of the old door screeched through the thick silence as she pushed it open, letting out a chilling gust of air that bit icicles into her olive skin.

The lady's piercing green eyes scanned the building in front of her, checking the address on her phone that she holds with her leather glove clad hand. Once satisfied, she nodded to herself and took a tentative step inside. A strand of her long black hair brushed against her defined face, a small scowl etched onto her features. She furrowed her dark, thick yet neat eyebrows, her calculating eyes narrowing as she took in her surroundings. She took in the musty smell of the aging carpet, the dingy walls and the flickering lights before stepping further into the building.

The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust as a rat skittered across the repulsive carpet. An audible gag escaped her parted lips, painted in a maroon lipstick, as she witnessed the sight. A sudden loud bang rung through the still air, a small black pistol held in her steady hand aimed at the now dead rat.

"How unfortunate." she muttered with a cold, void of emotion intonation. She quickly tucked the deadly weapon back into her belt that hugged her waist. Not showing an ounce of mercy towards the creature.

Upon approaching the front desk, she noted the absence of any receptionist and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Confidently and with purpose, she leaned over the desk and plucked a room key off its hook. Walking towards her room, she took long, confident strides. As she is face to face with the door of her room, she roughly shoved the key into the keyhole and twisted. Without hesitation, she barged into the room, slamming the door behind her, and set down her black duffel bag on the floor. The woman reached down, grasped the zipper on the bag, and tugged it open. She pulled out a stunning dress. The dress was black, sparkly, and expensive-looking, it had a high split up her thigh and a semi-low neckline. The luscious dress matched the pair of black, sparkly stilettos that she also revealed from the spacious bag.

The woman swiftly brought the dress, heels, and some other accessories and items into the bathroom. Neatly folding the dress on the bathroom counter and placing the heels on the cold tiled floor.Plugging in her curling iron and blow dryer before turning on the shower. In a hurry, she discarded her clothes on the bathroom floor and stepped into the shower. She lathered herself with vanilla and almond scented soap, especially making sure to thoroughly wash her hair with the same-scented shampoo and conditioner. After her cleansing, she took a step out the shower onto the rugged mat, quickly wrapping a towel around herself. She dried her hands and blow-dried her gorgeous, long, black hair, which cascaded down her shoulders. Just as she was halfway through curling her hair, her phone rang on the counter, vibrating forcefully reflecting her assertive personality. The ringers name: "Boss.". She picked up the phone, putting it on loud speaker.

"Agent Aurora Banks?" , a dim voice questioned on the other side of the phone."Yes, Sir. Agent Aurora Banks. About to set forth 'Operation Cattivo'", she returned in the same dim voice.

Agent Aurora Banks. An undercover agent sent on 'Operation Cattivo'. The infiltration of the Angelo family, an infamous Mafia group in Sicily, Italy. Agent Banks works as an Agent in England, yet has been selected to go undercover for the Italian police.

[lovemariannexox]

The house

Swelled largely on its foundations, deeply rooted into the ground. Flora and rock of different kinds were arranged around, following the house's contours. Walled in was the house with Ivy, a purple hue tinged a jealous green. Moss covering boulders like a dense and warm shaggy carpet. Coiffed shrubbery shivering proudly, waiting to be acknowledged. Passerby could find themselves showered with cherry blossom or birch leaves of a firey ember. Or else, unexpectedly met by a pointy reckoning from a pine.

Deep within the foilage gentle and inquiring hands could find the rough surface of the redbrick with its nooks and grooves. A small wooden door was set into the house like a hidden alcove. A bright glow, filled with promise spilled through a little window, giving the entrance away. The entrance to a house heavy with generations, history, and meaning. A house that was never made to outlast the universe, never made to stand the test of time.

It is difficult to say why it was built. Why it was placed by itself at the centre of everything else. And most of all who was responsible for it.

It was clear that it was heavily used but difficult to say whether those within ever came out.

It is difficult to say if anyone saw through the windows, but if they did they would have seen bodies moving quickly.

People with mysterious intentions.

The Neighbours

Ada was 12 when she first realised she could see through her window into the house next door. She was 12 and a half when she realised what that meant.

She used to like being by her window and the way the light would filter in, she used to like making out the shapes of the trees through the dirty glass and imagining what the birds would look like from their sounds.

Now she clutched the bottom of the window frame with white knuckles to squint at the form of the boy at the window across the way. The house was white, with large windows that were often open, making it easier to see the people inside. Over the years the boy next door spent more and more time in his room, sitting at the open window and playing music. The low murmuring, repetitive thumping and melody made Ada’s heart race.

There was a moment when Ada realised the shape of her could be seen from over there. She would crawl around on the floor in her room in the day until she was safely out of sight, not quite willing to sacrifice the daylight, and kept the curtains tightly drawn at night.

And Ada spent more and more time watching. The other occupants of Ada’s house barely saw her anymore. Her room accumulated layers of dust, spiders, cobwebs that would get tangled in her hair.

Ada and her room were crumbling away until the day Ada realised

She could make him see her.

So Ada set to work. She started with herself. She soaped until her skin was raw. She washed her hair and combed it with lavender and olive oil until it shone. She collected all the scraps of red fabric in the house and spent days fashioning herself a red dress. Can you see me now? She frantically scrubbed the square of wall that was illuminated by the sun that shone through the dirty window and finally, with a deep breath, sponged the glass until she could see the tiles on the White House, the wood on the slats of the big window panes, and, the reflection of her own home in the window opposite hers. She saw herself standing there and fixed her eyes on this figure in red. She felt a warmth blossom in her chest. She watched as the figure smoothed her own hair, caressed her red cheek, her white neck- suddenly the figure was broken in two.

Staring out of the now open window was the boy, and he had seen her. Ada was paralysed with shock. He stared transfixed in a similar way, then smiled. Ada couldn’t help but smile back. He raised a hand to wave, and Ada copied. He turned his head, bewildered, to take in the full expanse of Ada’s house- and suddenly slammed the window shut.

the red figure in the reflection wavered, and then fell to her knees. A sharp bang and then an unintelligible voice. She saw him leaning out of his window, shouting towards hers. She sprang back up, he gestured at her to open her window. Ada fumbled at the old mechanism, tugging fruitlessly at the handle. She cried out in exasperation. then, her fist pummels through the glass. Finally, seeing his face in full colour, she smiled.

Who are you?

I’m Ada.

I’m Mike. (Pause) I wasn’t sure anybody lived in that house.

this is my house.

I think you’re bleeding, Ada.

she looked down to see her pale skin dripping with red. She blushed and watched it fall onto her dress.

Ada?

she looked up slowly, taking him in from his hands on the ledge up to his sweaty forehead. he had a single piece of hair stuck to his face.

I want to kiss you.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes met his and were pierced by their darkness. She leaned through the window to try and reach him, but as her feet lifted off the ground she felt the threat of gravity and grabbed onto the edge. His window is closed now, and she’s unsure if he was ever there.

…

Are you here?

[k1d0m3g4]

Quentin had heard the siren call of a promise of somewhere better, though most promises of such are gilded at best. Dig deeper and there's always something rotted laying beneath. But this is David, and his history of never trusting fully is less heavy around the older man. Of course it's been bouncing around in his skull ever since it was suggested. It's so tempting that he's been looking around at what little he has, and realizes …. There's truly nothing he cares about here.

The sparse room decorations around them proof enough that he's not home. Little hard to settle in and feel safe somewhere, when death has had their hand on your shoulder whispering to come back home to the vast nothing. Over a hundred ways to die and all of them…. horrific in their own ways. Memory gaps that he can't fill with any information since no one gives him an opportunity to talk about real things. Disturbing things.

What do you want? Hurry up and spit it out. Can we do whatever this is later? Now what, Quentin?

Levitation comes as easy as breathing for him now, joining him as he floats not to mock but to be eye to eye. Both hands hover over David's with an unsure expression. "We're not going in yours. We're going into mine. You're not the only one in the room that's got a mind that does that… hungers…. craves connection. I need to go over some rules first. Do not touch any windows. Looking out the curtains excites them. There are monsters in my mind, and only one of them I can control. When we see my parents don't feed into them. They didn't listen back then, and don't feel sorry for them either. This is my official sign of trust, David. You will be the last mutant I let in."

A pink shield creeps up the walls of his room. "To keep any prying eyes or ears out." Grabbing David's hands, six keys simultaneously dig into Quentin's skull and twist three times. "Do you trust me to keep you safe? I've got you." I've got you.

A blink and they're standing in a hallway. A well worn old olive green carpet stretches down the length of it. The door behind them with its chipped white paint has four additional locks on it all undone, as it clicks closed behind them.

You better have wiped your feet before you track mud through the house, brat, or I'll have you scrubbing floors 'til your hands bleed, QUINTAVIUS.

"Yes, Papa! My shoes are off!" Where Quentin should be standing is a little boy no older than four. His dark brown hair is curling at the ends. He's skinnier than he should be. Clearly the malnourished state has left him small for his age, but the most startling thing of all is that small green bruises are mottled across the skin of his arms. The largest of these are under his eye and across his cheek in fading yellows. He quickly ducks down, undoing his Velcro straps , stepping out of the offensive barely dusty shoes. He moves to the door and on his tip toes struggles with reaching the third sliding lock, then .... then he realizes where he actually is. A shake of his head and he's back at David's side. A large shark plush is clutched to his chest with one arm, his other small hand held up for the older man to take. All of the curtains are closed but the sounds of fingernails on rattling glass, muffled wails and growling can be heard. "We gotta be quiet. Seen, not heard 'kay?" He stares up at David with empty lifeless brown eyes. "I think this is before they die? We'll be alright.. It's not a'tully happenin'."

[crystalgemzine]

Guest - Beach Style Bedroom

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Maria’s stunning home in Versailles, France begins in the living room with sharp white and black walls and a bright turquoise carpet. The white couch paired with black & yellow room accents sits under a paned half wall with a view to the gold hall.

Antique Indian furniture and a Venetian mirror are typical of traditional Moroccan salons.

In the dining room, Maria followed thru with the white lower walls and dark top. A rich olive green is accented with blue and black & white tropical photo mural.

The dining room leads into a a white and deep green wet bar off the kitchen.

Hall stairs to the bedroom level.

This deep gray room has beautiful beams in the ceiling.

Another gorgeous Venetian mirror stands atop a caned chest.

Smaller bedroom in pale gray.

Pretty wallpaper in the hall is in the same hues as the painted walls. Notice the beam to match the ceiling.

A vintage chest of drawers, converted to a vanity, is topped by a Moroccan mirror.

And, here is a serene and welcoming guest room. 

The patio behind of the beautiful stone house.

https://billieblanket.elle.fr/visite-privee-chez-maria-drissi-asamaya-versailles/

[samwisethewitch]

Banishing Nasty Spirits

If you’ve been following this series of posts, you know why a witch might work with spirits, how to establish a relationship with a spirit, and how to communicate with spirits. What we haven’t yet discussed is how to get rid of spirits that are bothersome, annoying, or malevolent.

I was planning to talk about pathworking and astral travel before getting into banishing, but in light of some asks I recently received on Tumblr, I think it’s important that we take a moment to discuss how to get rid of spirits that, for whatever reason, you don’t want around.

There are lots of reasons you might not want a spirit in your space. Just like with people, some spirits just aren’t a good fit for you and your practice. Part of being a spirit worker is cultivating a “spirit team” of beings that you can have healthy and beneficial relationships with.

Some spirits are mischievous and like to cause trouble. If you find yourself on the receiving end of lots of spirit pranks, you may want to gently encourage them to move along. And there are some spirits out there who just genuinely hate humans and will go out of their way to cause mental, emotional, and even physical harm.

Don’t get me wrong — malevolent spirits aren’t common. In my experience, the vast majority of unwanted spirits are more annoying than dangerous. I’m not saying this to scare you or make you paranoid. But these things do exist, and it would be negligent of me not to mention them in a series on spirit work.

There’s a reason that one of the most common truisms in witchcraft is, “Never conjure something you can’t banish.” If you’re going to be working with spirits, it’s a good idea to know how to banish them just in case. With that being said, here’s how you can clear out any nasties that may be lingering in your space.

Cleansing

The first step is to kick those unwanted spirits out of your space. There are lots of ways to do this, so choose the one that is the best fit for you.

Cleansing with fire and smoke is a very old and very simple method. If this is the way you decide to go, there are several magical substances you can burn to banish spirits. Burning sulfur or asafetida will clear out just about anything, but they both smell awful and are potentially toxic, so you’ll want to get an okay from the other people living in your home, burn a little at a time, and make sure you have lots of windows open. (Some people say sulfur and asafetida will banish all spirits, not just the unfriendly ones, so you may have to invite your spirit team back in later.) For something that smells a little more pleasant, you can try a mix of frankincense and myrrh resin, or burn a mix of dried rosemary, sage (garden sage, not endangered white sage, please!), and bay leaves — but again, make sure you have windows open, because these get smoky. Plus, you want the windows and/or doors open so the spirits have somewhere to go when the smoke chases them out.

If smoking up your living space isn’t an option for you, you can manually clean your space with a wash or powder. If you have hardwoods, you can make a floor wash with water, salt, lemon juice, rosewater, lavender essential oil, and either bay laurel or rosemary essential oil. (This is adapted from an uncrossing bath in the book Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison.) Use this mixture to mop your floors, as well as to wipe down your walls and furniture. If you have a humidifier or essential oil diffuser, diffusing some of this mix would also be a good idea.

If you have carpet, you can make a powder by combining salt, dried lemon peel, dried roses, lavender flowers, and bay leaves. You’ll need to ground this really fine, so I recommend using a coffee grinder or food processor. Sprinkle the powder on your carpet, let it sit for a few minutes, and then vacuum it up. I would supplement this by also diffusing a mix of saltwater with rosewater, lemon juice, and lavender and/or bay laurel essential oil. If you don’t have a diffuser, at least sprinkle some saltwater around the room and on your belongings.

No matter which form of cleansing you decide to use, it’s important to verbally state your intention to banish these unwanted spirits from your space. Tell them out loud that they are no longer welcome here and that they need to leave. Don’t be rude about it, but be firm and speak clearly and with confidence.

After you cleanse your space, it’s a good idea to cleanse yourself as well to remove any psychic ties to the spirits you’ve just banished. The easiest way to do this is with a ritual bath. The floor wash recipe mentioned earlier can also be used as a psychic cleansing bath. Other options include a bath with salt, frankincense, and myrrh or a bath with salt, rosemary, sage, and bay laurel. You can use essential oils for your bath, or add the resins and herbs to a cheesecloth bag and drop it into the tub for easy diffusing and cleanup.

If you don’t have a bathtub, you can cleanse yourself in the shower. Place two cups of salt in a bowl. Add lemon juice, rosewater, lavender essential oil, and either bay laurel or rosemary essential oil. If you don’t have essential oils, you can add dried lavender and crushed bay leaves. Add some of your favorite body wash to create a scrub (if you don’t have body wash, use olive oil). While in the shower, use this mixture to scrub your skin — visualize yourself scrubbing away any psychic gunk you might have picked up.

Protection

Once you’ve removed any unwanted spirits from your space, you want to lay down some protection to keep them from coming back. There are as many ways to ward off spirits as there are witches, but here are a few ideas to get you started.

One option is to create a ward. You can do this by anointing the door frames, door knobs, and window frames of your home with a protective oil blend and/or by creating lines of salt across your doorways and just inside your windows. You can use other protective substances if you prefer. As you lay down these protections, visualize a protective shield around your home, and speak aloud your intention to keep harmful spirits out.

Iron is said to repel spirits. Keep a railroad spike or other large piece of iron under your bed to prevent nightmares and to keep spirits from messing with you while you sleep. There’s an old superstition that says that hammering iron nails into the four corners of your home protects it from spirits — this may not be possible if you’re renting, but you can create a similar effect by displaying a piece of iron in each of the four corners of your home. Hematite is a crystal that is high in iron, so it can be used in a similar way to ward off spirits.

Aloe is said to protect from negative spirits, and to bring protection and good luck more generally. It’s also a common house plant that is easy to care for, so this method of protection is especially great for witches who need to keep their practice a secret. Keep several aloe plants in your home to protect those who live there.

For witches with a crafty side, making a witch bottle is another option for protection. There are lots of different recipes for witch bottles, but the basic method is to fill a bottle with sharp objects, add something from your body, and hide it somewhere outside your home (traditionally buried on the property, but leaving it in an outbuilding works just as well). The idea is that any nasty spirit that comes looking for you will be attracted to the bottle (because it contains part of your body), get caught by the sharp objects, and be trapped. To create a simple witch bottle, fill a mason jar about halfway with sewing pins, then add a bit of your hair and some of your fingernail clippings, and finally fill it with liquid (traditionally, this liquid is your own urine, but if that makes you uncomfortable vinegar will also work). If you want, you can also include some of your favorite banishing herbs, resins, or crystals.

Religious symbols can also keep nasty spirits away. If you identify strongly with a religion, display protective symbols from that faith in your living space. For example: a Christian witch might hang up a crucifix or set out a statue of Archangel Michael, a Norse pagan witch might hang up an image of Mjolnir, a Hindu witch might display a statue of Durga, etc. Sometimes the most effective way to keep nasty spirits away is to let them know that you’re under the protection of someone more powerful.

When dealing with unwanted spirits, the most important thing to remember is that you do not need to be afraid. You are a powerful witch, and you are more than capable of getting rid of them. Be confident in your abilities and know that whatever happens, you can handle it.

Resources:

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

A Green Witch’s Cupboard by Deborah J. Martin

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

Where the Hawthorn Grows by Morgan Daimler

[littlefreya]

Can you write a smut scene with Henry or Sy where the reader needs silence and shushes him so they have sex without making a noise?

Okay I’ve been wanting to do this for a while! 😇

Warning: Fluff to Smut, Breeding

Warning: Fluff to Smut, Breeding

***

Little ice crystals formed onto the window’s glass. Henry glimpsed outside, looking at the heavy blanket of snow on the ground, an opposite of the warmth inside.

You were crouched on four on the white carpet, with Oliver sitting on your back, giggling hysterically as you neighed like a horse.

Heather and Charlie invited you to stay with them for Christmas and what a wonderful time it was for Henry to see his beloved nephews and niece. Being the great brother and sister in-law, you suggested to babysit the kids while the two went out on a date.

Naturally the kids loved you, especially the young ones, maybe even a little bit more than “uncle Superman”. Henry was a little bit jealous but the envy in his heart melted as he saw the sight of you with a child.

The thoughts about you being just as wonderful with his child were invetible. He wanted to start a family of his own almost more than anything, yet he didn’t want to pressure you into it and make you feel like the only reason he married you was his need to reproduce. It was much more than that. You were his everything.

Charlie and Heather returned after a crazy night of clubbing, teasing you two for being “old wankers” as you both had a beat look on your face. You sat with them, listening to their stories while Henry had you in his lap, his arm wrapped around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder.

Something felt different, he was softer than usual, stroking his thumb over your belly button through the covered shirt. Whatever it was you felt it too, you wanted this life, having the chaotic living room games with Henry, yourself and someone that was a creation of your own.

As night drew near, you went to the guest bedroom, Henry leaned against the door and watched you with admiration on his blue eyes while your rubbed lotion over your exposed legs.

“What?” You chuckled, almost embarrassed.

“I loved seeing you with the kids this evening” he answered, looking you up and down.

“I love them” you answered “Olie kinda looks like you”

“It’s the curls” he admitted and moved to sit on the bed next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and his fingers reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“And that gorgeous chin” you added and punched the dimple beneath his mouth.

You looked at one another’s eyes quietly for a prolong moment. Warmth and excitement swimming in the hues of your gaze. You took a deep breath. Your voice came at the same time

“Do you want to make a baby?”

You chuckled but the rest of your laughter went into Henry’s mouth as he leaned to kiss you lovingly, he held onto your cheek with one hand and you gave into his touch, falling into the softness of the mattress with him lying on top of you.

“Have you taken your pill yet?” He inquired between languid kisses. You moaned at the feverish sensation of his fingers venturing from knee to thigh to find the band of your panties and peel them off erotically.

You uttered a breathless no as his teeth sank into the fat of your breath through the green satin of your nightgown and his erected cock pushed against your torso.

Suddenly the thought of him coating your walls with his thick semen became ten times more arousing. You shuddered inside, slick with desire.

“Henry, fuck” you reached to slip him out from his boxers and felt the veins pulsating between your fingers as you squeezed him. “Put a baby in me”

He growled against you chest and pushed your legs apart, lining your slit with his manhood.

“Can you be quiet?” He wondered as he pressed the head of his cock between your swollen petals.

You were moaning from nothing but his lips on your neck, you knew you won’t be able to keep quiet, you never did. He is was too much in every sense, an ardent lover who knew how to stroke every spot inside you.

You shook your head at him and he smiled. His hand went over your mouth and he kissed your forehead apologetically as he pushed inside you.

You cried into his hand, feeling him sink deep into your abyss, his cock an anchor, splitting though the ocean between your legs. He plunged into you passionately, holding onto his own groans which cane as husky gasps.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails bit into the muscle of his ass, urging him to thrust deeper, you orgasm was already building up, the coil inside your gut stretching as he made hard slams into your cervix.

He was bottoming out, grinding roughly against your little nub with every push and pull. The friction of his large body sent little white waves of pleasure that crushed onto your shores, pushing you higher and higher through and endless sky.

“I’m going to come inside you and make you mother” he half whispered in your ear, leaning closer while his hand was still clasped around your jaw. It was all you needed to hear while his cock filled you. You were swempt away, crying into his humid palm. Endless ecstatic waves licked you within as you flew into bliss. Henry kept fucking your through your orgasm, his cock swelling between the suction of your walls. He removed his hand and replaced it with his mouth, groaning helplessly inside you.

He held for another moment, lost to his own pleasure until finally he stilled with an angry thud into you and filled you with his seed.

You laid sweaty in his arms while he brushed the rouge sticky hair from your forehead and looked into your eyes enamored, realizing this starts a new chapter of your lives.

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Eirene & Eunomia (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Mimi (Eunomia) by her family & friends

Nene (Eirene) by her family & friends

Age(s)- 14 (immortal)

Location- Athens, Olympius

Personalities- Despite being identical twins, the sisters are no more alike than a chimera and a pegasus. Eunomia (she never lets her sister forget that she's nineteen minutes older) is self-assured, bossy, tenacious, and is an all around leader and orator-in-training. Eirene is much more laid back, friendly, and approachable.

Both of them share the abilities of teleportation & telepathy. They love using their telepathy to communicate with each other.

Mimi, being the goddess of law & legislation, has a few abilities like truth sense, having an innate knowledge of the laws of all the realms), and being able to induce people to tell the truth. When she stops physically aging, her greatest wish is to have a seat on the Olympian Council. Her sacred symbol is the legal hammer, otherwise known as the gavel.

Nene can induce the feeling of peace in others, limited chlorokinesis (particularly the olive plant), and limited atmokinesis (as it pertains to mild weather). Her sacred symbol is the olive wreath.

Members of the girls' immediate family includes their mother Themis (Titaness of justice) and their older sister Dike (goddess of justice).

The girls primarily live in Athens (just a few hours from New Olympus where they attend school) in a Greek Revival style mansion. The family also owns a lakehouse in the Hearthwood neighborhood & a summer cottage in Argos.

As little godlings, they loved when their mom would dress them alike!

The color scheme in Eirene's room is cream, gold, and baby pink. The flooring is mink baby pink carpeting. Framed inspirational quotes cover the walls while her plush bed has a canopy bed frame. She even has glamour dolls of her mom & sister!

Eirene has a pet- a white dove named Essence. The bird spends her time in a exquisitely crafted & designed Imperial Gold bird cage.

The color scheme in Eunomia's room is olive green, silver, and dark gray. Her school awards & certificates are framed and put on the walls. The flooring is white oak while her bed has a trundle frame. There's also mounted shelves on the walls for her book collection.

Eunomia has a single pet- a barn owl named Minerva. At home in Athens, she'll let her out often so Minerva can hunt for food in Sapphire Park.

They look forward to when their mom makes shakshuka for breakfast, which is usually on the weekends. During the school week a typical breakfast for Eirene is a bowl of Golly Grains vanilla spice cereal, an Earthly Harvest yogurt coated granola bar, or a cream cheese muffin. Eunomia prefers blueberry oatmeal, Golly Grains caramel curls cereal, or whole wheat toast topped with butter and fig jam.

Eirene's go-to drink is her homemade perfectly peachy smoothie while her sister prefers a large limeade from The Roasted Bean. They also like sparkling water, ginger ale, coconut milk, pomegranate juice, hot chocolate, and their mom's chai tea.

The girls are very close friends with one of the Queen's daughters, Eileithyia (Ella) (goddess of childbirth). The three of them often hang out after school- first at the palace, now at the Queen's townhouse (since the separation).

The sisters attend a private school in New Olympus. Other godly students include Dysnomia (goddess of anarchy & lawlessness), Circe (goddess of sorcery), Heimarmene (Marnie) (goddess of shared fate), Telesphorus (Rusty) (god of rehabilitation), Eiresione (Ren) (goddess of offerings), Theodon (god of reality, uncertainty, & fate), Morá (goddess of babies & children), Eleos (Ellie) (goddess of mercy, pity, & compassion), Koalemos (god of foolishness), Philautia (goddess of self love), and Cedalion (demi-god of smithing ore).

At school the sisters are part of the student council. Eunomia is the president of the student council while Eirene is the vice president. Nene is also part of the school's debate team and both sisters are part of Haven for Beings.

Mimi's favorite classes are AP government, economics, gym, and AP calculus while Nene enjoys AP health, literature, history, and AP art history.

The sisters have very different sense of style. Nene is more girly with her clothes while Mimi has a preppy tomboyish sense of style.

They both look up to & admire their mom and older sister. They even intern at Dike's law firm sometimes.

In the pantheon, the sisters look up to different deities too! Mimi admires Athena (goddess of wisdom), even modeling for her Olive Visibly skincare brand. She also looks up to Calliope (muse of epic poetry), Eleutheria (goddess of liberty), Amphictyonis (Amy) (goddess of diplomacy), and Clio (muse of history) while Nene admires Arete (goddess of virtue, valor, & excellence), Pasithea (goddess of hallucinations & relaxation), Homonoia (goddess of concord), Erato (muse of love poetry), Aphrodite (goddess of love & beauty), Elpis (goddess of hope), and Hera (goddess of women & marriage).

The only person in the royal family to ever intimidate Mimi was Ella's older sister, Eris (goddess of strife & discord).

The girls also had crushes on Ella's siblings- with Mimi having a crush on Ares (god of war) & Nene having a crush on Hermes. Mimi also currently has a crush on Axiótimos (god of honor) while Nene has a crush on Naeus (god of weddings).

They're not totally against wearing a head covering like their mom and older sister, so they do wear it sometimes.

They both enjoy listening to classical music. Eunomia also likes listening to classic pop, alternative, & soft rock music while Eirene enjoys listening to synth pop, R&B, country, and dance music.

A favorite frozen treat for Mimi is olive oil ice cream topped with pistachios while Nene prefers strawberry ice cream.

Eirene is thinking about trying out for the school's cheerleading team, but she hasn't told Eunomia about it- partly because of her sister's disdain for it.

The girls' long wavy dark brown hair is nearly to the small of their backs. They typically wear it out (with headbands) or put a part up with hair clips. Eirene will also wear her hair half up, half down or certain braids while Eunomia will wear her hair in a high tight ponytail, low pigtails, or a messy bun. They love using the Hairology 2-in-1 coconut & vanilla shampoo and conditioner.

The sisters haven't gotten their ears pierced yet. Their mom decided that they can get it done when their induction ceremony happens.

Eunomia is thinking about joining her school's football (soccer) team. She feels she can't add on to her responsibilities- like being student council president.

A guilty pleasure for Eirene is a slice of extra cheesy pizza that she sprinkles garlic & parmesan cheese on top.

Eirene primarily enjoys reading young adult historical romance, historical fantasy, & contemporary fiction while Eunomia prefers young adult science fiction, historical fantasy, and mystery novels.

A guilty pleasure for Eunomia is the wings combo from Olympic Chef. She gets six lemon pepper wings, large onion rings, & a drink (she gets a large cola with a bit of ice).

Eirene's favorite dessert are the madeleines from Hollyhock's Bakery while Eunomia likes her mom's pistachio baklava.

In their free time they enjoy cooking alongside their mother & sister, hanging out with Ella, ballet, doing yoga, going to the cinema, bike riding, knitting, basketball, sewing, petteia, football (soccer), going to museums, mixed martial arts, fencing, horseback riding, and playing chess.

Eunomia is currently writing a book of her own, an academic enemies-to-lovers young adult romance!

They like their sister's boyfriend Epiphron (god of prudence) and the box of pear dark chocolate scones he brings whenever he visits them.

Mimi's favorite meal is a fattoush salad with pita bread, drowned in tzatziki sauce while Nene enjoys saffron rice added with lamb, roasted pine nuts, & roasted peppers.

“Peace & order. The laws of life.”

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: Nat Vancey and Trevor Garbo from Smile For Me. Nat is a teen girl with pale skin, shoulder-length pink hair, and blue eyes. She is wearing a pink t-shirt and darker pink pants. Trevor is a taller teen boy with olive skin, shoulder-length auburn hair, and green eyes with yellow sclera. He is wearing a teal t-shirt with a graphic of a grey wolf howling at a pale full moon and blue pants. They are both standing by a table and chairs, striking fearsome snarling poses at one another. On the table is a black and white chess board with a few black and white pieces scattered about, as well as a large red and blue robot toy. The wall behind them is a muted yellow color, and the carpet underneath is purple. End ID.]

-----

“You think the knights were the threat?” Nat scoffed. “They were the distraction! My bishops gave my queen the best summoning magic!” She stood up, her queen in hand, taking on a fighting pose. “The queen has summoned Nat-zilla!” She playfully made roaring sounds and swatted both the mob of pawns and “George” to the side.

“Well, my queen can call upon Sabastian!” Trevor exclaimed. He stood up as well, holding onto his queen as he held out his hands with imagined claws bared. “Nat-zilla, I shall defeat you!”

“You can try!”

+++++

More 101 Smiles! Yeah, these two don't really know how to play chess, so they're just goofin' around XD

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~If you like, please reblog to show your friends! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs let more people see my content! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

Nat Vancey and Trevor Garbo © LimboLane Artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[sebbybooks]

Never Mine

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Part One

"With my dog as my witness, to whoever was riding my ass if they didn't back off my bumper I was going to stop in the middle of the road and rip their windshield wipers completely off!"

That type of anger coiled around me like a snake, because there was nothing that bugged me more than someone driving bumper to bumper. The long and exasperated breath I just released helped ease the tension out of my body temporarily. Just in time for reason to settle in. Though in reality it wasn't like I was actually going to jump out of my car and confront this road demon. Who clearly needed to take a course on etiquettes of the road. What I did know was that whoever was behind the wheel of the car had headlights that were so blinding I am sure extraterrestrials in space could spot them.

Trying to find the calm in the situation I focused on the road ahead of me. What little road I could see for that matter. Which wasn't exactly much. I had checked the forecast earlier in the day with the report of it showing that there was to be only clear and blue skies. By the amount of downpour before me you would think there was a tear in the sky if that was how rain fell. I just needed to hang tight for a few more miles until I reached my exit to stop for the night.

I had been driving for nine consecutive hours and it wasn't until the third hour I realized I was not cut out for long distance driving. The plane ticket I turned down from my father was starting to look like a missed opportunity. I opted out for Cooper's sake. I just rescued the little guy a few short weeks ago and I didn't have the heart to leave him alone so soon.

Despite having only six more hours of this painful drive I needed out of my car. A hot shower and a bed was calling my name like a siren's call was to a dazed sailor at sea. I was fervidly drawn to it. Granted, I wasn't exactly going the speed limit in my own defense. Simply because I chose to be a cautious driver not a careless one unlike the dip shit behind me. Cooper and I were going to get to Sonoma, California in one piece if I had anything to do with it! I had no intention to speed in the rain even if it annoyed the person behind me. After all I was driving down a one lane road there was literally nothing else I could do but drive forward.

Taking a glance up at my trusty Garmin my gps projected that at this rate I wouldn't make it to my hotel for another hour and a half. Ahead of me the sky was starting to look like a terrifying shade of gray and to top it off the dismal weather was becoming more and more hard to drive in. I could barely see the paint on the pavement. My defrosters seemed to have given up on me as I began to notice that my rearview mirror fogged up as though it was twilight hour.

I needed to pull over to try to wait out the heavy rainfall. The only problem was that I did not know where I was nor could I see where the road even had an end. The cheap gas station coffee was starting to wear off and the pep talks could no longer motivate me. The words of encouragement quickly transitioned into self deprecating quips of "I can not fucking do this!"

I was too far from home to turn back now and hearing a lecture from my dad despite being well beyond the ages of even receiving one, certainly would not stop him from scolding at my absence. I am more than certain that fiancée number three would not mind if I missed their prenuptial celebration. Especially if arriving on time meant I would be showing up dismembered. It was official I was going to die in this storm.

All of sudden like I called upon a bad omen my tiny Kia Forte jerked forward. I thought I accidentally stomped on the gas pedal too hard without realizing it. When it happened again I knew exactly what it was. Clearly the driver had mistaken this for a game of bumper cars. I laid the palm of my hand on the center of my steering wheel and relentlessly pressed my horn. Not sure what that was going to necessarily ward off , but I had to try something in the efforts that they would leave me alone.

Cooper's head shot up from his bed in the backseat. He looked just as displeased and annoyed as I felt. Why wouldn't they slow down? Is the question I could not figure out. I don't know if it was all the Stephen King that I read, but my paranoia was increasing as I started to settle on the possibility that they were now following me.

Maybe I was tired?

Maybe my imagination truly was getting the best of me?

Or maybe whoever that person was also suddenly decided to take the same random exit as I was taking.

I didn't think. I veered my car off to the right and got on the first breakaway from this seemingly endless road. I had no idea where I was headed at this point and neither did my Garmin. It made multiple attempts to reroute itself, but even that could not locate where I was. I took an unexpected detour by driving off into the middle of nowhere with a now stalker in my midsts.

Adrenaline now filling up my bloodstream. I gave my steering wheel the death grip and drove as fast as the tire tracks of my car would guide me. On a midsize billboard to my left I saw a logo for a gas station and a non franchised bed & breakfast saying it was right up the road. I was taking a chance by trusting that the establishment was clean and safe. I just needed to go where a crowd of people would be. The battery on my phone was likely dead and yes this was now becoming the opening sequence for a King novel. I'd laugh if my heart wasn't fluttering as fast a hummingbird's wing.

I managed to make out lights ahead as I neared the petrol station first. However, it just about looked abandoned. The dim white lights flickered around the desolate parking lot. I saw only two freight trucks parked side by side and I immediately thought

. . .hell no.

I kept driving forward in the hopes that the bed and breakfast sign wasn't last updated in the early nineties. I nearly combusted from relief when I finally saw it. Several cars and mini vans lined up with people inside of them probably doing the same thing that I was. I didn't plan on staying the night I just planned on staying long enough to hide out from the rain and from the trouble that still followed my trails.

Luckily there were free parking spaces close to the entrance. It was still hard to make out what the place truly looked like. From my view in the car the rain made it look like it was a melting oil painting. In a swift motion I put my car in park, turned my ignition off, reached in the back to grab Cooper and grabbed ahold of my purse in the other arm. I bolted out of my car for the door.

It felt as though I was running through a hurricane. I was completely drenched. I could barely keep my eyes from closing as I ran up the slippery steps in my worn Toms praying that I wouldn't eat concrete. There was an awning over the door that offered relief from the storm's cruel embrace . Looking down at the fuzzy brown welcome mat I noticed a quote was scribbled out on it.

"some beautiful paths

can't be discovered without getting lost."

As I reached for the doorknob I couldn't help but notice the intricate design. I'm aware of how wrong the timing was to fawn over something so utterly mundane. I just could not conceal the fact that I was a sucker for antiques roadshow and architectural designing. Growing up with a dad that built and reconstructed vintage furniture one might pick up on the interest. It was a white privacy doorknob with hand painted roses, with a Victorian long plated silver keyhole. The sound of distant car door slamming snapped me out of my daze. I turned my head in the direction of the sound low and behold it was that same car. Crazy thing is I didn't see anyone by it.

Instinct guided me forward considering my brain was scrambling with worry. I ushered myself inside and it was as though I fell into a pink wonderland. From the pink carpet to the multicolored pink pinstripe wallpaper. Hot pink roses seemed to have been the main theme for the lobby. There were various black and silver picture frames with photos of pink roses hanging on every wall. On every surface my eyes could catch, red and pink plastic roses sat in circular olive green vases. It was certainly....something. I thought I was doing the most logical thing by coming inside, but it quickly dawned on me that I saw no one around.

"Hello?" I cautiously called out.

I paced myself as I walked up to the front desk, simultaneously looking around for any potential red flags. My right arm was going numb, my little guy was tiny but felt like I was lugging around a sack of potatoes. I wandered away from the desk to poke my head around the place. There was a entry way that led to a dinning area with a handful of seats adorned with of course pink table settings. I was standing next to a spiral staircase to what I assumed led to the rooms. There was only one door that held a sign for a bathroom. Perhaps there was a power outlet I could use long enough to charge my phone to call my dad.

The same door I walked in swung open and droplets of rain was blown in by the wind. A shiver rolled down my spine, sending a myriad of sparks that shot through my body. Turning around a strange sensation filled the pits of my stomach. It felt like butterflies and moths had taken up space there. Excitement and fear. I just stood completely mute like I had never seen a man before. Well to my defense I hadn't seen ones that look like him in my town. Without even seeing my reflection I had an inkling as to the state of my appearance. I was utterly perplexed by how he pulled off the kissed by an ocean look. To embarrass myself further of course my dog chose that moment to shake water off of his fur on to me.

"Really Coop?" I tried to hide my disgust, but he got it around the corner of my mouth! The good looking stranger offered a half smile that probably pitied my overall state.

"Is the black Kia parked out yours?" Even his voiced oozed sex appeal. He angled his frame so he could face me. There was about an arm length of distance between us. His eyes practically bore into my face I suppose waiting for me to say something. Must have been the buzzcut, the facial scuff, or the fact that some creep was still parked outside waiting to do who knows what. But my thoughts were not where they should have been.

I blinked and straightened up my posture. "Yeah why?" I finally answered.

It was a causal question, yet it felt completely random like there was something else to it.Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.The silence was so thick it would take a hacksaw to cut through.

"Well I'll be damned! I didn't think I would get to see you until after you got back from your trip in California." A woman most likely in her late sixties came rushing down the stairs for him. She draped her arms around his body clearly taking him by surprise. Her cotton candy colored pink bouffant made up for most of her height. Sebastian returned her embrace. Although it looked extremely awkward considering he stared at me the whole time and I stood there watching.

"Moe's old truck didn't give you too much trouble did it?" She asked.

"No it still got some life left in it." Sebastian's jaw went slack and he looked from her to me once more. Only this time he was looking at me with a cold glare. Realization suddenly crashed into me like a wild horse.