#so the reveal that he also satisfies the other condition was Very Pleasant for me

[epicdogymoment]

*triumphantly ticks off box reading “just some guy but from a dimension 2 inches to the left of ours”*

#leologisms #neko ga nishi mukya #*punches the air* YEEESSSSS YEWAAAAHHHHH #that was a nice ending to this short series :) #and i really like the character trope of ‘some dude but he is just Slightly Off’ but i was already happy with hirota being Some Dude #so the reveal that he also satisfies the other condition was Very Pleasant for me #and also there was a nice reunion :) and it was good seeing the other version of chima too #neko ga nishi mukya is good. its good

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter One

Finally! I’m sorry this took so long, I’m a nervous wreck.

Notes: this was originally a warmup for character interactions/setting. It is very dialogue heavy.

\\ Warnings: alcohol //

A single tumbleweed was all that crossed Scott’s path when he arrived in the Red Desert. It was rather comical, he stood and watched it roll away until he couldn’t see it through the sheets of sand blowing over the ground.

In the distance, the only mountain located in the desert biome loomed over the horizon. Imposingly backlit by the red, swirling, tendrils of the world border. Most residents kept away from the thing, as it was meant to give off an unsettling aura. Although Scott never minded it. The wall of his room was almost right up against it after all.

On top of the mountain was a barely visible “castle”, which looked as if it was built by someone wearing a blindfold. The inhabitants of the castle, and the aptly named “Monopoly Mountain” could be accurately described as menaces.

Clumsy when it came to forward thinking, and leaving hidden traps around so frequently that traveling through any wooded area required either a very long stick, or someone willing to take the business end of a TNT trap for the team.

They also happened to be Scott’s nearest allies. It hadn’t always been pleasant between them, but circumstance led to circumstance, and now Scott was making his semi-weekly visit to Monopoly Mountain to shoot the breeze.

Typically the only person at the base would be Grian. Scar liked to make himself elusive by causing problems elsewhere and returning late into the evening with a story to tell over dinner.

The base of the mountain was void of a bubble-elevator. To reach the top one must climb an absurd amount of stairs. Scott huffed and resigned himself to the task in front of him.

As his perspective grew higher and higher the rest of the map revealed itself. The roof of Joel’s house peeked over a swathe of trees, and the tall barricades of Dogwarts stood out as a stark silhouette against the sky. Scott took a few minutes to regain his purchase, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind.

The season was gradually descending into winter. Made obvious by the deciduous trees’ leaves choking out the last of their green pigment for fiery shades of red and orange. The weather was far less pleasant to endure. Everywhere outside of the Red Desert had to deal with bitterly cold conditions, although there hadn’t been snow yet, the sky churned with a constant overcast. Threatening to storm at the drop of a coin.

Scott rubbed his arms to fight off the oncoming chill and continued his ascent, hoping someone had installed a fireplace since the last time he visited.

Finally he rounded the last of the stairs and gazed up at the tall, thin roof of the Sand Castle. The Red Desert flag strung on the tallest rooftop flapped around in the wind. Pizza, the pet lama, grunted in Scott’s direction when he approached the front door. He hesitantly reached out to pet her (she bit him once and he’d never fully gotten over it) from over the fence of her pen, and she let him rub her fluffy bangs.

Scott knocked on the door three times and gave Pizza one last pat, anticipating someone to open the door. It would be a shame if he’d hiked all the way out only for nobody to be home.

Thankfully, the door swung open with a welcoming screech of it’s hinges.

“Hey dude,” Grian welcomed him from the front steps.

“Hey,” Scott greeted in return, “may I come in?” he asked.

“Of course! It’s freezing out here,” Grian replied and stepped away from the door, which slammed with a squeak behind the two of them.

Scott closed his eyes and waved to the resident enderman, who greeted him with a friendly, distorted “hello”. A furnace was running to warm the living room.

Scott took his coat and hat off. He draped them over the arm of the couch before swatting a layer of sand from the cushion and sitting down, observing the scene in front of him. There was always something going on in there.

This time, a myriad of blueprints were strewn across the floor. Each of them depicting heavily annotated structures and what looked like plans for redstone. Grian had planted himself on the floor with a pencil, and was furiously erasing a line of text.

“What’s that?” Scott pointed over his shoulder.

“These,” Grian held one of the outlines up to the other’s face, “are the blueprints for our secret bunker,” he explained.

“You hear that? Secret Bunker, so don’t go telling anyone about it m’kay?” He tapped the paper with the end of his pencil.

“Okay, fair enough. Is that redstone?” Scott slid another sheet of paper towards them with his shoe.

“Yup. I’m gonna equip it with a lava trap,” Grian said proudly.

“And this one will work?” Scott teased.

“Hilarious,” Grian pushed the other’s shoulder, “yes it will work, it’s going to be my best yet,” he assured.

“Oh good! That’s not a very high standard to meet then,” Scott congratulated.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Grian mocked back, “you better be careful what you say with twenty five reputation points,” he said.

Scott threw his hands up in surrender, still laughing at how the other man’s ears turned red.

The house fell into a comfortable silence after that. The sound of scribbling and wind served as a calming ambience. Scott intermittently shared a few words with the enderman, who seemed to understand more of what Scott said to him than the other way around.

“Hey, Grian?” Scott turned over on the couch to face his friend.

“Yeah?” The other said without looking away from his work.

“Do you think you would have still been friends with Scar if he hadn’t died from that creeper?” Scott asked.

There was a pregnant pause, then Grian said, “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he doodled absently on the margin of his paper.

“Hm,” Scott replied halfheartedly. He mainly asked because whenever he visited Grian was alone. If they were even home at all. Other than that him and Scar were always attached at the hip.

“Why?” Grian asked in return.

“I don’t know, forget it,” Scott waved him off. Not wanting to get into it.

“When’s he gonna be back?” he asked instead.

Grian sat up and stretched his back, “uh, I don’t know actually. He said he went to gather resources but you can never really count on him doing what he says he will,” he explained.

“You didn’t go with him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t want to babysit him anymore. If he gets in trouble that’s not my problem,” Grian said. He stood up and wandered over the the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blueprints on the floor.

“Ha! I would drink to that one, Jimmy is the same way sometimes,” Scott replied and watched as Grian contemplated the contents of their cooler, reaching in and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“Well then, let’s drink to it,” he held the bottle up with a grin.

“Where did you get that?” Scott vacated the couch and made his way over to his friend, taking the bottle and studying it, “I haven’t seen the fruit of the vine in years!” he recalled.

The bottle had clearly been tapped into before, although not much was absent from its contents.

“I have my ways,” Grian rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out two glasses.

“I would say it’s too early for this, but for once, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Scott uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each glass a third of the way.

Grian cleared his throat, “To the safety of our stupid partners,” he raised his glass.

Scott nodded in return and connected their drinks with a polite clink, then they drank to the sentiment.

The conversation traveled to the dining table, which was more of a booth. Talking points ranged from preparing for winter to future plans to expand their bases.

“I’m not going to get anything done with the weather coming on,” Scott complained over his drink, “I don’t handle the cold very well,” he downed the last of it.

“Well you can always move in with us for the season, the attic is vacant,” Grian offered.

“Never in a million years. I’d rather be sick at home than spend a week living with barbarians,” Scott refused the offer.

Grian rolled his eyes, “it is not that bad,” he defended himself.

Scott raised an eyebrow and shoved his hand in between the cushions of the booth. Pulling up a handful of sand, which he deposited on the table.

“We live in a desert! What do you want us to do about it, of course there’s some sand in here,” Grian threw his hands up.

“Some?” Scott repeated.

“Okay,” Grian glanced under the table and shuffled his foot around, which scraped across a layer of sand, “a lot of sand,” he corrected himself.

“Get a vacuum. For the hundredth time, get a vacuum,” Scott demanded.

“We have a broom that works perfectly fine,” Grian stood up and opened a linen closet to reveal a single broom leaned up against the wall.

Scott didn’t comment on it, but he had a feeling that broom never left the closet.

The conversation was effectively halted when the front door screeched open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. It blew a few papers off the floor and scattered them around the living area.

“Hey,” Grian called out, “Scar? You back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” came from the front of the Sand Castle.

“Okay! We have company by the way,” Grian prefaced.

Scar’s head poked around the doorframe, he waved at Scott who returned the gesture.

“What have you guys been up to?” He inquired at the sight of the wine on the counter.

“Just hanging out. It gets a bit lonely up here you know,” Grian closed the linen closet and took Scar’s backpack from him. He opened it and looked at the contents.

“Oh, you actually did what you went out to do,” Grian revealed a bundle of wood from the bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scar crossed his arms.

“Never mind, go wash up. I assume you’re hungry,” Grian opened a pantry and took some spices out, “are you staying for dinner Scott?” he asked.

Scott leaned out of the booth to check the time on the clock above the door, “mmm, yeah why not. I’m already here,” he decided.

“Let me just page Jimmy and tell him I’m gonna be home late,” Scott patted all his pockets but found no sign of his communication device.

“Hey Grian? Can I use your pager?” he requested.

Grian fished around in his back pockets and pulled out his pager, tossing it towards the other who caught it with both hands. Scott thanked him and flipped the screen up, selected the address he needed to contact, and typed out a short message. Making sure to say it was from him and not Grian before sending it to Jimmy.

“What’re we making?” Scott asked once he finished, intent on trying to help in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s Spaghetti Friday,” Grian declared and revealed a bag of Rigatoni pasta.

“That’s a thing?” Scott inquired, taking the bag and examining the packaging. It was pretty simple, mostly cardboard with a plastic window. Presumably from the village on the other side of the map.

“We’ve gotta have some fun around here, come on now Scott,” Grian said.

“You’re right, how can I help?” Scott said. Grian side eyed him.

“You can add the salt when I say you can add the salt,” he offered. Scott crossed his arms.

He wasn’t that bad at cooking. He’d only burned a few things, smoked the house out for three days once, and set scrambled eggs on fire.

“That one time was just a rookie mistake,” Scott retorted. It’s not like he did it on purpose.

“A rookie mistake that almost burned your flower forest down. I wouldn’t let you near the kitchen if I was Jimmy either,” Grian set a pot down on the stove.

Scar came back in the kitchen then, and was pulled into it almost immediately.

“A man can’t even sit down in his own house without his culinary skills being put up for debate?”

Grian laughed at him, sliding the pot under the water pump.

“That’s not an answer at all! Can you or can’t you?” Scott demanded to know, holding a salt shaker.

“I can cook,” Scar’s gaze wandered into thought, he started counting on his fingers, “pasta, assorted vegetables, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and I can bake a half decent carrot cake,” he recited.

“I worked in a supermarket before the borders. We made some of our own stuff for the bakery and the buffet,” Scar said. It was the first mention he made of what he did back when things were normal. At least to Scott.

Scott was pleasantly surprised. He nodded, seeing as he’d been given a satisfying answer.

The spaghetti went off without a hitch, Grian was surprisingly good at making it. Scott had the sense that he’d done it many times before.

“Remember, you can put the salt in but you can’t take it out. Here taste the sauce and tell me if it’s alright,” Grian fished a spoon from a drawer and handed it to Scott.

“Hmm,” the other pondered after trying a spoonful, “maybe a bit more salt?” he suggested.

A window was propped open to let the steam and heat out. It was getting dark now, and the world border stood out against the purple hues of night falling over the server. The brightest stars made themselves known to the east as the sun set to the west. It was peaceful, the wind had died down. Scott wondered if anyone else was watching.

Personally, he enjoyed stargazing a lot more. His servermates knew next to nothing about the cosmos, which made him wonder who was teaching them about the greater universe. Clearly they’d never been out there.

“Yo,” Scar called him out of his trance. He handed the other a ceramic bowl.

“Thank you,” Scott said and waited to serve himself.

The spaghetti was pretty good. Decent meals were hard to come by, especially with the limited resources outside of villages.

Over the course of dinner, Scar explained his excursion of the day. He had been gathering wood to stockpile for the winter months (no wood in the desert, better to have a source available and not have to hike out and get more constantly) when he came upon Etho’s base.

“It’s entirely made of wool,” he recounted.

Grian raised an eyebrow in confusion, “All of it? Why?” he mused.

“Dunno. There was nobody around,” Scar replied.

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” Scott interjected.

“Not this time,” he said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from Grian.

The three laughed it off and switched the subject to current server affairs. Who had the best gear, everyone’s respective allies, the phantom problem, and the pros and cons of a vacuum.

“Well, I would say this is a fine work of spaghetti,” Scar complimented when he was finished.

“Indeed, couldn’t have done it without Scott. The best salt dispenser among us,” Grian agreed.

Scott tried to look offended but couldn’t repress a smile. He stood up, about to take his bowl to the sink; but Scar insisted that he was the guest, so he handed over his dish and sat back down. Preparing his “i’m out of here” pleasantries.

He settled on, “Well, I’m out of here,” after a few more minutes of banter.

“Okay! Thanks for keeping me company dude,” Grian gave Scott a hug as thanks.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Scar offered to accompany Scott back to the Hobbit territory, but he refused.

“No need Scar, you’ve been out all day. I’ll be fine,” he assured as he adjusted his hat and jacket for the chilly walk home.

“Alright then, let me walk you out,” Scar proposed instead.

Final waves and good wishes were exchanged and Scott started back down all those stairs. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the world border which sat right against the Red Desert.

Lost in thought for most of the journey, Scott traveled into the dark canopy of leaves. There weren’t many mobs out due to the moon being in its Waning Crescent phase. Scott rubbed his hands together and shoved them in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his mittens.

As he crossed over a clearing, an arrow whizzed over his shoulder. Scott ducked down in surprise, turning around and expecting to see a skeleton, but there was nothing there except a dreadfully dark bank of trees and a vacant plot of land.

Scott squinted into the darkness.

Then the handle of a weapon was brought down on the side of his face, and all the lights went out.

#THAR SHE BLOWS. #Time to get this monster out of my system! This au gave me brainrot. #hahaha! it only gets worse from here #kingslayer au #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #mcyt #cas types

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N  Well, here it is.  The last chapter of Ginger Snap.   As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out.   There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so.  In the meantime,  thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me!   This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.  

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways.  The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it.  Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own.  To stand on my own two feet, as it were.   Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February.  This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time.  As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying.  The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air.  Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass.  It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed.  It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed!  I fucking passed!”  An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster.  Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan.  I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.”  My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare.  Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not.  The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely.  “Ye’re gonna do great.  When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.”  The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands.  Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season.  Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms.  The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple.  I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home.  There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home.  With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process.  It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately.  Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi.  How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother.  Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice.  I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not.  Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian.  We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”  

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic.  Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.”  I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly.  “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams.  Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal.  As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands.  At my left hand in particular.  Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?”  I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied.  “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well.  It was the most I could hope for, really.  Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother.  Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him.  I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed.  Says the right woman is worth the wait.”  She paused before adding,  “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed.  “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester.  It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet.  Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support.  For once she didn’t reply immediately.  There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts.  I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you.  I think about you every day.”  A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send.  At least I hadn’t woken him up.  A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist.  Hello.  How are you?

I tried to picture him.  Was he at home?  Working late?  Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright.  Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry.  Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass.  Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man.  I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end.  And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text.  Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie.  I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good.  I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow.   It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news!  I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass.  It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed.  I wasn’t alone in this.  Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?!  It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie.  The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one.  Not a second longer.  I’m just...  what if I fail?

And there it was.  The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did.  What if I failed?   What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me.  You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef.  It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you.  I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right.  But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright.  That helps.  I should let you get to bed.  Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire?  Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat.  Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze.  I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass.  Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken?  I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area.  Jenny was on the phone.  She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in.  I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting.  I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk.  I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves.  Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber.  He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet?  There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it.  I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny.  It’s me.  Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me.  My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils.  You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.”  More sigh than word.  He slowly turned.  It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him.  It was still there, after all these months.  That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.  

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began.  “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor.  This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued.  “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am.  How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed.  This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another.  Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret.  Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods.  My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart.  Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There.  It was said.  A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free.  Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist.  Come, set my life on fire.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

[roselightfairy]

Last 20 Stories: First Lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag [up to] 10 authors! (Feel free to link your fics in the titles.)

Tagged by @unnamedelement - thank you!

Stories:

Going Viral (this is a cowritten fic, so I picked the first line I personally wrote): Signing out for the day was one of the things Gimli did miss from in-person teaching – there was just something less satisfying about closing the Zâram window, rather than his usual routine of chatting with any stragglers while he packed up his things and actually locking up and leaving his office.

Living Conditions: Rostinnariel finished tucking in her covers and frowned down at her newly-made bed.

Heals All Wounds: Time passes strangely in Valinor.

Nothing You Can Give: “Laerwen.”

Not in Service: So many times, over that long, strange Willowless summer, Buffy finds herself wanting to call Tara.

the hunter’s heart, the hunter’s mouth: The sun is setting.

Ripples in the long, long stream - this is a collection of ficlets, but I’m pretty sure at least the last three are in the latest 20 fics I’ve written, so I’ll include those here:

The sun in Minas Tirith was hotter than in Mirkwood. (ch. 18)

Gimli’s head ached. (ch. 17)

The rain started in the early evening, after they had retired for the day. (ch. 16)

Insufficient Appreciation: In the back of Rivendell’s great Hall of Fire, listening to a long droning lament in a language he did not speak, Gimli hid a yawn behind his hand.

Plenty: “Hot apples – with cinnamon?”

Drink-Drowned: “Gimli! Gimli!”

Chiropteran: “Stay close.”

Loose Ends: The sun was sinking, gold light searing through the window and streaking Gimli’s vision, and still Legolas had not returned home.

Strange Favors: “Suki. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Light into Gray: Aragorn comes to fetch him in the smithy when it happens.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place: This, Gimli thought gloomily, staring down at the bed he had been given in Rivendell, was a quandary he had not anticipated.

Roads Converged: Early autumn was the most pleasant time to travel in Rohan.

(the next three in my AO3 are unfinished WIPs from several years ago, so I’m skipping over them)

Acceptable Losses: The arguing voices are the first sound to reach Gimli’s ears – the muffled sound of discord an awakening that would not be gentle, could he hear more clearly through the haze around his mind.

Full Moon: There were times that Gimli wished arranging to meet his secret lover were as simple as slipping away at night: tiptoeing out of his apartments in his parents’ manor and hurrying off down the hall, his only concern being silent enough to escape notice.

Patterns...

Well. This isn’t exactly news to me, but I have three main trends:

starting in media res, with the main character just doing something

starting with dialogue (which I suppose is sort of a subset of the first one)

starting with some short, environmental/situational-overview sentence that will lead into a longer, more atmospheric scene-setting paragraph (usually, though not exclusively, happens in present-tense stories)

This task mostly reveals, I suppose, that the strength of my writing is not really in the opening line, even the ones that I try to make sound snappy. Or rather, that the opening line is often very heavily dependent on what comes after it, and doesn’t stand on its own very well.

Oh, also, that I skew towards Gimli POV, which I have noted elsewhere as well.

Favorite opening line?

Oof. Well, none of these really stands on their own, I think - a lot of them need the line that follows to really get the context. (Given just these as hooks, I don’t know if I’d read any of them!) I suppose the one that hooks me the most is Between a Rock and a Hard Place - “This, Gimli thought gloomily, staring down at the bed he had been given in Rivendell, was a quandary he had not anticipated.” I think this line indicates at least a little of the true hilarity that is to follow. But also, because Im in a craving-Gimli-whump place, I might have to go with Acceptable Losses - “The arguing voices are the first sound to reach Gimli’s ears – the muffled sound of discord an awakening that would not be gentle, could he hear more clearly through the haze around his mind.”

Tag other writers!

UnnamedElement already tagged most of the people I would have wanted to tag, but I’m going to do some repeat-tagging anyway just for fun - so if you’re tagged twice, you only have to do it once! But I’ll tag @deheerkonijn (since you now have 20 fics to do this with and also I wanna pick on you to do some self-bragging), @enide-s-dear, @katajainen, @the-dwelf-ao3, and anyone else who wants to do it! But please, no pressure!

#my fic #my writing #navel gazing #i feel like i need a tag for that #since i've been doing so much of it lately #sigh #legolas x gimli #ask meme #kind of

[kookiepredictions]

Why Jungkook’s future spouse will fall in love with him

Broadly it’s the same as Jungkook’s reasons— the twinflame connection brings them together in a way that she can’t help loving him, even though she might have tried not to. But just so this post is not a reiteration of the previous one, I’ll be more specific.

Most of her life, people saw her as some sort of a trophy partner, and not much effort was made to understand who she really was inside. It’s not so much that the other men mistreated her, it’s just that they didn’t know how to treat her. She has been loved, but only in parts and pieces. Which, when awakening to a new perspective of life and love, didn’t seem like love to her. It seemed too conditional to be love. And it’s not just her own relationships, just relationships in general as she saw around her, whether it be her friends’ or strangers’ never fulfilled her own idea of love or relationships. She saw less of love and more of convenience-based asset-exchange. Deals that were made and broken, instead of promises that should be made and kept. Somewhere along her awakening, she formed this really lofty idealistic concept of love and she was keenly aware that it could be an unrealistic dream. Not only was the “love” unrealistic, the problem that came even before that was, to make that dream a reality, she had to first meet someone who also wanted the same thing in love and relationships. And her previous acquaintances didn’t make her feel hopeful about finding someone like that. She also might be a little headstrong with the type of “I’d rather be alone all my life than end up in a wrong relationship with the wrong man” attitude. It was not that the men were “wrong” per se, it was just that they didn’t have the same mindset as hers which is why even though there might have been other common interests and such, it was never whole/ complete. In a previous relationship or connection, she has had to dim down parts of herself to adjust and adapt in it, because they were in some way, “too much” or straight up “useless” to the other person because they just didn’t know what to do with it. One main example is her spirituality. Twinflames are spiritually inclined right from their childhood, even though they’re mostly not conscious about it. It’s just that they have that aspect, that intuitively guided thought process and behavioural pattern to them. In her previous relationships, this was considered an unnecessary thing, an inconvenience even. She was too “different” for her own good. For those partners it was like, it was enough for her to be an arm candy, why does she have to be so analytical, philosophical and idealistic? As she worked on her self confidence and grew more assertive in life, this was seen as an attractive quality— “finally someone with the face and the brains”— but it was still something most people didn’t know what to do with. This is another reason why dating didn’t appeal to her because it lacked the spiritual depth, and although she didn’t know this was what was missing from her life, she was never satisfied with the outer, surface-level dating activities where there was no soul connection. She was probably in a state of acceptance of “I’m going to die alone” idea lol when she first meets Jungkook.

One thing to mention here is that she was not treated right by her past connections not because it was their fault; the main reason was that she didn’t know how to be treated. She knew what she didn’t want in a relationship but she didn’t know exactly what she wanted. And that’s because she didn’t fully know herself either. Jungkook comes into her life and completely transforms the way she sees herself. He serves as the quintessential twinflame mirror for her and all those hidden parts of herself were revealed to her. With Jungkook, she doesn’t feel like she has to become someone else. Although it happens slowly and gradually, she feels more and more vulnerable with him in a way that she could never be with anyone else before. And in fact, in a way that she didn’t even think would be possible since earlier for her, relationships meant adjusting by partially hiding yourself. With Jungkook she doesn’t feel like she has to do that because somehow for him, ALL of her personality is very appealing to him. He’s just interested in everything about her. She can say what she really wants to say and he is eager to listen to it. None of her parts are useless, everything is attractive to him. He’s her biggest cheerleader lol. She could do the smallest thing and he will hype her up like she won the Nobel or something lol. And it all happens because Jungkook really sees her as she is. It’s that habit of his to dig deeper and deeper. He is SO interested to understand her, it’s a very pleasant surprise to her. He doesn’t judge her only for her outer attributes, he likes her for who she is inside— her thoughts, words, feelings— these are the main reasons why he loves her. He’s not like, “okay this is what you look like, this is what your body looks like, done, I’m in love, I don’t need to know anymore”. It’s not like that. He’s really interested in HER— it’s something she had always wanted but almost given up on. Jungkook just comes in and does the very thing that she expected a true partner to do. And the best part about this is that he doesn’t even have to force himself to do it— it’s just who he naturally is— his natural habit of trying to understand people deeply and then treating them accordingly (also discussed in his Personality reading). This is important because if you forcefully do something, say, to win someone over, but is not a part of your natural personality, it doesn’t last long, and eventually you’ll stop doing it, and then the other person feels like you’ve changed, but you haven’t changed, you just weren’t being true to yourself in the first place. (Relationship tip lol: Be yourself right from the start. Put exactly who you are on the table, and let them decide based upon it. It makes a relationship easier and long lasting).

Jungkook sort of just allows her to be— it’s a comfortable space to be in. It’s like how women in the Victorian era must have felt after they took off their corsets lol. And because of this, she learns to value herself and stand up for who she is and what she wants. Funnily though, this means that she might also sometimes stand up against Jungkook when their principles clash, but that’s not with the intention of causing arguments, it’s just that now she values herself too much to doubt herself, and if the person opposite to her is Jungkook himself, she must still stand up for herself, because that’s what Jungkook and this connection has motivated her to do, whether or not it was intended that way. Jungkook is like the last and most important puzzle piece in her spiritual growth. Whatever she had been experiencing in all those years, she now KNOWS what she was and is experiencing. She can articulate her experiences, feelings and ideas from a very definitive point of awareness and knowledge. He is literally the main reason she goes from being an ordinary girl to a divine feminine who knows what she wants, why she wants it, and how to go after it. So many things are said about DFs’ roles in awakening the DMs, but not enough is said about how much of an impact DMs have over their DFs. DFs can sometimes tend to get caught up in their heads with all the frou frou spiritual stuff, but since DMs lead in the physical world or the 3D, they keep the connection and their DFs grounded and play such an important role in manifesting the connection from the spiritual realm to the physical. They have so much love for their DFs they almost form this cocoon of love around them all the time, which again, like discussed in the previous post, makes the DFs feel like they are not all alone in what they’re doing. Jungkook makes her feel so loved and so beautiful, and it’s even better because she knows that it’s not just in a superficial way, rather for who she is in her entirety. In fact, he could care less about what she has to offer. She’s not naive, definitely not after she has found awareness, she knows exactly why people value her and why they want her in their lives. She might not be perfect but she knows what she brings to the table, and she knows that it’s a lot more than what most people are capable of giving. She doesn’t mind giving, as she believes people are born not to take but to give, but it’s the sense of entitlement and the obligatory responsibility that is pushed upon her that turns her off. Jungkook, being her twinflame, is that one person who doesn’t look at her as that kind of an asset. He’s not perfect lol he has his moments of struggle, but at the core, all he really wants is just a companion who understands him, nothing more nothing less. Instead, while most people would extend this energy of “what can you give to me?” Jungkook extends this energy of “what can I give to you?” It’s like how all of Rapunzel’s value was in her hair, but Eugene cuts it off to protect her because in his eyes, her value was in who she was as a person, and all he ever wanted to do was to love and protect her.

Even with speed bumps and potholes, Jungkook’s idea of love matches with his twinflame’s idea of love. There is a sense of innocence and purity with which he loves her. He hardly questions it and even in his most frustrated, weak moments, when he does question it, he’s not very good at it. He’s so much better at loving lol. He’s a true divine masculine to the divine feminine that she becomes. You know, most people do know what real love is, but when that ego comes in between, most people cave. It takes someone really strong to want to fight their own ego blockages and limitations to make that real, ideal love happen, and Jungkook is definitely one of them. He struggles SO much in the connection, it makes me sad often because it is difficult for anyone, but 22/ 23 is too young an age for a super busy K Pop idol to be in a connection as confusing and intense as this, and he definitely has all the reasons and ways out of it. But I don’t know what ultimately gives him the strength to want to work on this, to not let it go. I know a TF connection is not easy to let go of either, and I know he’s wanted out of it, and has tried often, as has his DF, but I just had to say it because we see him smiling for the press and photo ops and it’s just sometimes so hard to believe that that same person is going through all of this. Although, I would say that he does make it harder for himself due to his own stubbornness but again, that’s a post for another day :)

[winter-turtle]

House Of Wolves - Chapter 2 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Tony being human disaster.

Chapter 2: Endeavors And Disasters

The moving came as a surprise to Peter. Stark just showed up a few hours after dropping him off in his cell and then took him here. Instead of the dull grey, the walls here were white, not to mention without stains of suspicious origin like when Peter’s family was forced to squat somewhere and there was an actual bathroom this time. The only downside was that there was no door, but it was still a whole separate room.

Privacy.

Peter kept thinking about the interrogation session ever since it ended. It’s been hours and he couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to reveal his name, but he saw no real harm in it.

For all the world knew, the Parker family’s been dead for years. There was nothing in their name; no bank accounts, no cards, no phone numbers, so they really couldn’t link anything to them. Not even his parents’ clients didn’t know their real names as there was always different name per client. Only codenames remained the same.

And hey! For all the Avengers knew, he could have taken an advantage of a missing family’s identity-

The door opened, pulling Peter out of his musing.

“What the- why are you on the floor?”

Peter lazily blinked. “The mattress is too soft. I feel like I’m about to sink,” he replied flatly to very concerned-looking Stark.

“Uh, yeah, right,” the man rubbed the back of his neck in the same manner like Peter did when he was about to get sensory overload, “we can get a harder mattress if that’s what you prefer. Just please don’t sleep on the floor.”

Funny. Peter was used to sleeping on the floor. Though he preferred sleeping curled in the corner, sticking to the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if his spider part was responsible for that particular habit, but he felt the safest there.

Unfortunately, the option to sleep on the ceiling was taken away from him.

“What do you want?” Peter asked, not getting up from his spot. It was time for breakfast and yet he didn’t see any plate in the man’s hands. So, that’s how it was gonna be. Interrogation without-

Stark pointed to the hall behind him with his thumb. “Breakfast. Let’s go.”

Wait, what?

Peter sat up, confused. “Where?”

“The magic place where food is usually prepared and eaten, also known as,” he drummed his fingers in the air in dramatic pause, “the kitchen.”

“Why?”

The mechanic threw his head back. “Do you want to eat or not?”

Peter did, so he obliged.

Expecting the familiar force to pull his wrists behind his back, Peter put on his best defiant face. But nothing happened. Instead, Stark motioned for him to leave the room. Peter did and still nothing happened.

Were the bracelets faulty or something?

“Well, are you coming?”

“Didn’t you forget something?”

“Hmm, nope, I don’t think so,” Stark said as he walked, not waiting for the boy.

“Why isn’t he concerned about leaving me unrestrained?”Peter thought, going for light jog to catch up, confusion painting his features.

Pleasant smell wafted through the air the closer they got to the kitchen. Peter’s expression shifted into badly concealed curiosity. He sniffed the air once, twice, concluding that whatever was being made there, it smelled good enough to make his mouth water.

They entered and Peter could swear he saw several flashes of shocked expressions coming from the Avenger seated at the table before Stark had the chance to announce their presence. Rogers, standing in front of the stove, was the first one to break out from the stupor. He plastered his typical patriotic smile on his face. “Good morning, Peter.”

Peter gave him an unimpressed look in return. Stark motioned with his hand at the table, his hand barely missing Peter’s back.

His instincts briefly took over, making him stiffen in anticipation of the pain and ready to fight.

Peter, shoulders falling in relief when no touch came, took the nearest free chair, which was between Wilson and Barton. Barnes was opposite of him, looking at him in the way that kind of reminded Peter of the looks Stark sometimes gave him. “What?” he snapped.

Barnes’ expression shifted, this time into one that Peter recognized. Guilt. “Nothing. Sorry,” he mumbled, quickly averting his gaze.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Peter kept staring at the man until Rogers placed a plate in front of him. “Here you go.”

All words died on his tongue, his eyes comically wide when he looked down. He hoped nobody noticed, but holy shit.In front of him laid nicely stacked perfectly round pancakes. And those were no regular pancakes.

They were chocolate chip!

His mouth began to water even more. Peter was basically an acid when it came to sweets. Chocolate was a rarity in his life. He only got it for special occasions like his birthday or if he did exceptionally well on a mission, or when he managed to find enough loose coins on the streets.

Peter dug right in. The heavenly taste of the chocolate spread across the tongue, the fluffy texture making it feel like he was chewing on a cloud. Hands down, these were the best pancakes he’s ever eaten. Honestly, they were so good it could make him start to consider switching the sides.

Kidding. He would never betray his parents. But the pancakes were still good.

“Do you like them?” Rogers asked.

Peter’s head snapped up, his stuffed cheeks dusting pink once he registered amused looks of the Avengers. “Yeah,” he forced out around the food before swallowing, “they’re alright. Thanks, Rogers.” Because he got some manners after all.

The man winced. “Just call me Steve, son.”

“Sure thing. Let me try again then. Thanks, Call-Me-Steve.”

Barton snorted, choking on the food in the process. Romanov slapped his back while, her mutter of the word ‘dumbass’almost drowned out by others’ laughter.

“Ah, you little shit,” Stark said as he wiped a tear from his eye, “I like you. Want some more pancakes?”

Peter shrugged, but mentally cheered. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” And sooner than he thought, he made it through another plate. Then he was offered another refill and then one more.

But… there was something odd to the taste. Something Peter couldn’t quite place, but it made his mouth a bit tingly. In the end, he just wrote it off as not being used to that much sugar and who knew what kind of special and expensive ingredients they could afford to buy.

He was halfway through the fourth serving when the questions started.

“Damn, do you have a bottomless pit instead of your stomach or something?” Stark asked. “I swear I’ve never seen someone keeping up with Rogers and Barnes when it comes to eating.”

Peter briefly considered pros and cons of telling the truth. Last time he gave them a piece of information about himself, he got an upgrade in accommodation. Maybe he’ll get another upgrade after this? Well… it was worth a try. “No, just fast metabolism.”

“How much food do you need?” Romanov asked.

Peter snorted. “More than a single sandwich.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Rogers asked.

Peter straightened his back and put on his most serious expression. “Hi, I’m Captain America. Whether you’re a student, or a soldier, there’s one thing that will always give you an edge,” he paused, one corner of his mouth rising slightly, “a hot lunch. You don’t have to be injected with secret government super soldier serum to have strong bones and muscles. A well-balanced diet is one of the best ways to keep your body healthy. The food pyramid will help you find the balance,” he finished with a mock salute before shoving another piece of pancake into his mouth. “You didn’t ask.”

Rogers grimaced. “They still show those?”

“Don’t know,” Peter shrugged. “I never went to school, but they’re all on the internet. But listen to me, Call-Me-Steve, what I’m trying to say is: save your PSAs for someone else, ‘cuz they sure as hell won’t work on me.”

Barnes chuckled, nudging Roger with his elbow. “What did you get roped into?”

“Okay, but am I the only one who finds it weird that he has the whole thing memorized?” Rhodes piped in.

“No, but I have different question,” Barton said as he leaned towards Peter, looking at him intently. Peter braced himself. Here it was. The questioning.

“What did Tony do to make you talk in just one sitting?”

Peter blinked twice. That was… surprisingly petty. “He’s… annoying. Don’t take me wrong, you’re annoying too, but he’s special brand of annoying.”

“Geez, thanks kid. I take that as a compliment.”

“So, you did it to shut him up?”

“Yep.”

As it turned out, four plates were his limit. Peter released long, satisfied sigh. Wow. He didn’t remember the last time his stomach felt so full. He only got to eat that much before missions to ensure he was in top condition, which-

Peter frowned. Now come to think of it, he got no extra food before this mission.

“Kid… that’s called abuse.”

That was- no. No!

“…hurting their own children is not something normal parents do.”

There was no way they wanted to… get rid of him. No, they were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Same as they came for you in the past three weeks?”

Yeah, that had to be it. So, shoving away the statements that wormed their way under his skin and getting rid of that train of thoughts, Peter focused on the pleasant feeling of his full stomach.

It would be better if the strange tingling left though. It stubbornly lingered in his mouth even after two glasses of water. Oh well. He would trade the slight discomfort for full stomach anytime.

He was led back to his room when the Avengers started to clean the table. He didn’t mind, strangely.

Maybe… maybe they weren’t so bad after all.

Peter’s stomach churned. He wrote it off as being full after such a long time.

“See?” Tony held his head high, the proud feeling radiating off of him. “It worked.”

So early and he was already on a good track. The change of the room and good food – plus the new mattress, but that one had yet to arrive – were only the beginning. He just returned from the gym where he was putting everything that could be used as a weapon away. He assumed the kid would appreciate some physical activity after weeks of confinement.

“He wasn’t even his usual rude self! Well, for the most part. I think he was just cranky because he was hungry.”

“Don’t celebrate in advance,” Natasha warned, “or you’ll jinx it.”

“Me? Jinx it? Please,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m practically a lucky charm of this team. Seriously, what could go wrong?”

“Boss,” Friday’s voice came from the speaker, interrupting his boasting. “Peter has been throwing up for the past ten minutes.”

“You were saying?” Rhodey deadpanned after a moment of dead silence.

“Shut up.”

There was no sign of the kid or the pancakes when he opened the door to the kid’s room/cell. “Peter?” Tony called out. A dry heave coming from the bathroom prompted him to move.

The sight that greeted him made his expression fall instantly. The poor kid was hunched over the toilet, shaking like a leaf, his face pale and sweat plastering his messy curls to his forehead. “Oh, kiddo,” Tony said sadly. He kneeled next to the boy, placed his hand on Peter’s back and began to rub soothing circles on his back.

The kid tensed. “Don’t touch—” Another round of his stomach turning itself inside out cut off the threat.

Tony grimaced. Well, there were those pancakes. Reluctantly, he let go, hoping that his presence alone would be enough to provide at least some comfort. After what could have been three minutes, the heaving stopped.

“You assholes poisoned me,” the kid accused weakly.

“What? No, no, no,” Tony was quick to deny, “you were there with us, we all ate the same thing and we’re alright. There was no way someone poisoned you. Why would we ruin Cap’s famous chocolate chip and mint pancakes and made you sick?”

“Mint?! You- bleh.”

And the heaving was back. Honestly, Tony wondered how the kid managed to bring something up after he’s been praying to the porcelain goddess for so long. But… mint? “What’s up with mint?”

The sound of Clint smacking his forehead echoed in the small bathroom. “Spiders don’t like mint. Laura uses it to keep the little buggers out,” he added when the team sent him questioning looks. “And he ate four plates of those pancakes.”

“Leave,” the kid rasped out.

“Kid, I don’t think—”

“Leave!” Peter said more forcefully before he shoved his head into the toilet once more.

Tony, although reluctantly, stood up. “Okay.”

“Tones,” Rhodey let out soft protest.

“It’s no use now,” he mouthed. “Come on,” Tony said and ushered his teammates out, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder the whole time.

“I didn’t know he couldn’t eat mint,” Steve said once they were back in the hallway, his head bowed down.

“Neither did we, Steve,” Sam patted Steve’s shoulder, “neither did we.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“We know.”

Peter laid curled into a pathetic ball on the floor. The moment his stomach had nothing left to expel, he splashed his face with cold water and dragged himself as far away from the lingering smell as he could, which wasn’t exactly far. He rested his head on a pillow he’s pulled off the bed and he was here, breathing through waves of cramps.

Stupid.

He was so stupid, thinking that the group of heroes wasn’t that bad. Just look where that got him. His parents always said that he was too optimistic, too gullible and trusting. Ingesting mint used to be a punishment for him, although it’s been so long since there was a need to use it that he forgot how horrible it made him feel.

It was only when his stomach was painfully cramping that he realized that the tingly feeling in his mouth wasn’t because of the sugar, but because of the mint. It happened every time he brushed his teeth, though in much smaller extent, so he was used to it.

Peter released shaky breath, closed his eyes and buried his face further into the pillow. Sleep always helped, so that’s what he planned to do.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to hate him because Stark walked in in that same moment, carrying a steaming bowl of something and an apologetic expression on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

“You again?”

Peter was tired. He wanted to rest. He didn’t have any energy left to argue with the billionaire.

“Kid, look. We had no idea this would happen, but I’m sorry anyway.” When Peter didn’t reply, he continued. “You said you have fast metabolism and there’s literally nothing in your stomach to give you energy. You’re also most likely dehydrated. So, here,” he said and approached the sad heap. “I got you home-made chicken broth to replenish those electrolytes and rehydrate you.”

“Electrolytes that you made me lose,” Peter gritted through his teeth. “Don’t want it.”

“Kid, please—”

Peter shot the man weak glare. “Go away.” Another wave of cramps hit his stomach, making him curl into even tighter ball, barely swallowing down a whimper.

If there was something the boy hated the most, it was showing weakness in front of an enemy.

He was aware of Stark’s eyes on him. The man sighed, then placed the ceramic bowl within Peter’s reach. “I will leave it here in case you change your mind.”

The lock clicked after that, leaving him alone at last. He dragged his eyes to the bowl and just watched the steam dance above it. It smelled great. But no, he couldn’t…

Or could he?

What if it was really just an accident? True, he never told them and he didn’t think they had any way of knowing either. So, maybe… just a sip… but he shouldn’t… was it really a good idea?

He hated these conflicting feelings.

Ah, to hell with it! If he threw up again, it’ll be his own damn fault this time.

Carefully, Peter uncurled himself, leaned his back on the wall, reached for the bowl and blew on it before taking a sip. The rich flavor combined with the warmth of the broth spreading through his body made him relax immediately and soothed his stomach.

When he deemed himself full enough, he put the bowl down, and curled back so he faced the bed. Watching the single forgotten dust bunny in the corner, he fell asleep.

Later, when Tony went to collect the almost empty bowl, he got on one knee and threw the blanket over Peter’s sleeping form. Watching the steady rise and fall of the kid’s chest, he carefully moved his hand towards the kid’s head and e began to run his fingers through the brown curls.

The action elicited a reaction, although not unpleasant.

The kid sighed in content and subconsciously leaned into the touch, making Tony smile. It was enough to givie him a confidence boost.

He could do it.

The day his stomach was turning inside out, Peter was left mostly alone. He slept through most of the day anyway, though when he woke up, he was confused about the blanket on him. He didn’t remember covering himself before falling asleep, which meant that someone, and he had a pretty good hunch who, did it for him. He found that weird.

Because why would anyone bother with making sure he was comfy? Back home, if he fell asleep without the blanket, he slept without the blanket. Simple as that.

Oddly, some part of him was… touched by the gesture. It was like something stirred in his soul. Something… something warm.

Sure, the thought of an enemy in the same room as him while he was vulnerable got him on edge, but at least he didn’t wake up cold.

The next day, he refused to leave the room. All attempts to coax him out fell flat. They were back to delivering the meals to him. Thankfully, there were no more sandwiches.

Yesterday, Stark brought him a book. Peter decided not to accept the gift/peace offering, but the boredom eventually won and he found himself reading it. He almost laughed when he spotted the knife on the book’s cover and actually barked out a laugh when he saw that the title.

Should they be giving him a book that was calledThe Knife Of Never Letting Go? Peter didn’t think so.

Though he quickly found himself rooting for Todd to get away from his hometown’s army and reach safety.

And now they were today, back at the coaxing.

“So, uh,” Stark squirmed under Peter gaze. It was strange to see otherwise confident man to act like this. “Do you want to go to the gym? To get some movement? Only if you feel up to it, that is.”

Peter, as much as he hated to admit it, didn’t think about the offer for too long. He would kill to get some actual movement. Those few squats and push-ups he could do in the privacy of the bathroom were nothing compared to his usual training regime. Plus, he didn’t want to get through the book too quickly since he wasn’t sure whether he would get another one.

“You’ll like it there,” Stark, obviously relieved, kept on babbling as he walked ahead of the boy.

Peter was baffled by the man’s decision of repeatedly exposing his back to him. It would be so easy to jump at him, even without his powers, and snap his neck and nobody would be able to do anything about it.

“I think you will be able to use the equipment our two super grandpas.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

But… Peter found himself not wanting to.

Why was Stark being so… so nice? There had to be some ulterior mo-

A sudden stabbing pain in his wrists had him stop dead in his tracks, tiny yelp escaping past his lips. Squinting, he brough his wrists up to his face to look at the bracelets.

A faint numbness began to spread from underneath them. A second later, a wave of lightheadedness washed over Peter’s whole body, making his limbs feel weak and his eyelids heavy in the process. He realized far too late what was happening.

“Oh, motherfu—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence as his knees buckled. The world turned black just before he hit the floor.

“Come on, kiddo, open those Bambi eyes of yours,” Tony said as he frantically patted Peter’s cheek. How could he be so stupid?No, really. How? He was the one who designed the bracelets. He knew all about the functions included.

So just exactly how did he forget about the fail-safe?

The fail-safe that was specifically designed to inject quick acting sedatives into their wearer in case of an escape. Once they crossed a certain point – bam! It’s a night-night for at least an hour. More that enough time to collect the escapee.

“Man, how did you forget about the fail-safe?” Sam asked from where he was hovering over the duo on the ground, knowing he wouldn’t be much of an use in their current situation. He offered to spare with the kid in case he wanted to since Tony didn’t want neither super soldier sparring with now-average teen, though he doubted that Barnes would say yes if asked and fighting with Natasha could be interpreted wrongly after the horrific revelation.

“I don’t know, I just forgot,” Tony forced through his teeth before he resumed the patting. “Wakey-wakey, spider-baby, nap time’s over.” Lordy, he’s really done it now. Peter didn’t as much as stir.

Tony tapped Peter’s cheek a tad stronger. He hoped the action along with the kid’s fast metabolism will rouse him soon enough.

The minutes felt like the whole eternity, but finally, Peter began to stir.

“Pete? You with us?”

The kid looked painfully young as opened his bleary eyes, blinking several times to get rid of the hazy fog that was without a doubt shrouding his mind. “Wha…”

Tony’s shoulders fell with relieved exhale. “Oh, thank God. You okay?”

He didn’t know why he asked that. It was obvious that the kid was in fact not okay if his weak attempts to sit up were anything to go by. Tony put his hand on Peter’s back and gave him the boost, mindful to be as gentle as possible. One of the points to spark the change in the kid was to introduce him to a concept that not every touch had to be painful.

A concept that was no doubt alien to him.

“Don’t t—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t touch me, I know,” Tony said as he put his hands up in surrender, but remained in vicinity in case the kid toppled over.

The whole process kind of reminded him of helping an overturned turtle.

“What the hell was that?” Peter asked, some of his usual snappiness returning.

“It was an accident, I swear! This was legitimately my bad. I,” Tony inhaled, “forgot to disable the fail-safe. I’m sorry.”

“A lot of accidents seem to happen ‘round you.”

Tony shrugged, wincing in the process. “What can I say? I’m very accident prone.”

Peter weakly smiled, mischief sparking in his eyes. “For a genius, you sure are a dumbass.”

“Thanks,” Tony deadpanned, “Once again, I take that as a compliment. But look,” he lifted up his watch brought up the menu and with a few presses changed the functions, “now you can roam the building all you want.”

The kid rolled his eyes, clearly not believing him, before making an attempt to stand up. He didn’t get too far before he, as Tony predicted, toppled over; right into Tony’s waiting arms.

See? Like helping overturned turtle. Drunk overturned turtle, but turtle nonetheless.

“Take it easy,” Tony said gently.

Peter pushed him away. “I’m fine. Let’s go to the gym.”

Much to Peter’s annoyance, he was deemed unfit to do any exercise after he struggled to remain on his feet. The process of getting to the common room was tedious and slow, mostly because he refused to accept help from either of the men.

He did pretty well with the wall alone, thank you very much.

With the gym out of the question, the movie night he learned was planned for later got turned into movie marathon. The group of heroes were milling around, busy with final preparations, while Peter nestled himself into the corner of a L-shaped couch, his slouched posture and displeased look radiating clear ‘don’t approach me’ message.

“I think,” Rogers said as he was reading something from his notebook, “Star Wars. I’ve been meaning to cross it off my list for a while now.”

“Finally!” Wilson muttered.

Peter tuned out the rest of the argument about how Rogers always took forever to pick when it was his turn and Rogers defending himself until a bowl of something white but nicely smelling was placed on his lap. “What’s that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Popcorn,” Romanov said as she sat down with her own bowl.

“People usually eat that while watching movies,” Barton explained, smirking slightly.

“Wait, you,” Barnes joined in, awkwardly casual, “know what movies are, right?”

Stark sat down next to him “Ignore those idiots. They’re just teasing.”

Peter scowled, and for some reason unknown to him, switched to defense immediately. “You know, you all sure expose your backs to me a lot. I don’t think you realize how easy it would be for me to snap either of your necks.”

“Would it really?” Romanov asked, watching him sharply.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Peter replied, matter-of-factly.

Heavy silence settled over the room, all eyes on Peter as he popped a piece of popcorn in his mouth, tiny smile pulling at his lips.

Stark exhaled, quiet and shaky. “Fri, play the movie.”

Peter’s smugness soon turned into wide-eyed wonder as the movie enthralled him. He leaned forward whenever a lightsaber appeared on the screen and held his breath when the rebels were making the trench runs on the Death Star. His disappointment when the credits rolled was short-lived though. He learned there were several other movies, and since they were doing a marathon, another one was put on.

They were halfway through the third, or sixth, movie when Peter’s head lolled forward. The impromptu nap had to mess with him more than he thought, but he couldn’t fall asleep yet! He had to see how the story ended. When his head felt too heavy, he leaned it on the headrest and through sheer willpower, he kept his eyes opened.

It was only when the final shot of celebrating rebels turned into final credits he left them fall shut.

Peter was out like a light in an instant.

“He looks so innocent when he’s like this,” Bucky whispered.

“Hmm,” Clint hummed, his eyes sad. “It’s hard to imagine that someone like him killed someone. Do you think he really did it?”

Steve shrugged. “He admitted to it, didn’t he?” He turned to Tony. “I think it’s time—”

“To get him to bed?” Tony cut him off, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Tony—”

“I’ve still got a little over a week, don’t I?” he snapped. “I didn’t take you for one to throw the towel in the ring when it came to someone. Not after Germany. Not after Siberia.”

Just as Tony expected, the reminder of the events made the man clam up. Call him a douche, but if playing dirty would get Steve off the kid’s back, then so be it!

Without another word, he bent down and carefully gathered sleeping spider-kid into his arms. Peter nuzzled himself closer and grabbed a fistful of Tony’s shirt, making tiny but involuntary smile appear on Tony’s face.

“Tones,” Rhodey grinned, “you’ve got a giant spider on you.”

Tony, grateful for the ice-breaker, rolled his eyes. “Hardy-har,” he said under his breath as he left the room.

#marvel fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #tw vomiting

[bakageta]

Okay idk if there's a certain number of items you're supposed to pick for these memes but I have a lot of them. 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14, 20, 29, 38!

I don’t think it matters how many you pick so long as it’s not all of them, lol.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Anything with an element of fish-out-of-water. I love fish-out-of-water as a trope: characters learning about new situations, about each other, and coming to new understanding. The potential for it is why the Venom fandom got me writing again after 7 years, and almost all of my fics have some degree of it. It’s incredibly fun for me to write and to read, and I’ve yet to get tired of it. 

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

There’s two: wingfic and bodyswap/roleswap. I’ve tried and gotten nowhere with a couple ideas in the Venom fandom, so I’m open to prompts or discussion!

5. Share one of your strengths.

Lately I’ve been really proud of my dialogue! I’m always very happy with the way it turns out.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From You In Me In You:

Instead they move in concert through the steps of Eddie's morning. They take a warm, languid shower washing the sleep away and marvelling at the feeling of hot water sluicing over their body. After, Venom sheets the water from their skin and Eddie dresses them in his softest clothes. Their breakfast is bacon and way too many eggs. It eats some of their food raw and Eddie doesn’t do anything but smile and fill their blood with tasty neurotransmitters.

They spend the rest of their morning wandering by the piers, people watching. It’s a weekday and the crowds are as thin as they ever will be in a port city as large as San Francisco. Sunlight glimmers on the surface of the bay and the two of them spend hours wrapped in each other surrounded in turn by constant murmur of humanity.

It brings a new appreciation to both of them. These are the people he would have died for, and this is the world it had glimpsed from the top of the network building. The air isn’t quite as bogged down with exhaust as it is deeper in the city and it tastes good in their lungs as they inhale. They exhale heavily, satisfied.

This is from the last section of the fic. Eddie’s just woken up to Venom surviving the rocket explosion, perfectly aware that they’re there and that they’re aware of him. I wanted it to read like rolling over, finding your significant other still in bed, and realizing that neither of you have anything pressing to do. Peaceful and comfortable. By the end they both see the results of their efforts and know it was worth it. It came out exactly how I wanted it to.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From Sight Seeing:

“Hah, the great investigative reporter, Eddie Brock, at a loss for words.” Venom laughed aloud as they clambered out of the shadow of the building and onto the roof.

Shut up, asshole, Eddie grumbled. Before he could say anything else he noticed that there was a new sensation tickling across their surface as they stood on the quiet roof. Why is our skin tingling?

“We are in the open, in the light.” Venom casually turned to face the half-moon completely, and a wave of prickling sensation rolled over their face and chest as they moved. It felt to Eddie like the moment before something happened. Like the building tension of a suspense movie but without the release of a reveal or a jump scare.

But I’m not anxious about it; you’re not tense; we don’t feel exposed. He couldn’t think of any other reason they would feel so strangely. Why is our skin crawling?

“Crossed inputs,” Venom explained after a moment of thought. “I am not used to seeing light, and you are not used to feeling it.”

Feeling it? They felt light?

“I do not have eyes, Eddie,” Venom clarified, “but we do. Alone I cannot detect anything beyond the presence and intensity of light. What you feel is your brain’s interpretation of my sense of light.”

The whole point of this fic was to compare and contrast Eddie and Venom’s senses and this is the first bit in the fic where the differences come up. Eddie starts to realize just how alien Venom’s senses are and Venom realizes that they should explain and maybe even adjust how they interpret things. I’m proud of how well I explained the differences in their interpretation of light while keeping the banter interesting.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Good Things Ahead was definitely the one I had the most difficulty with. I had to get out of my comfort zone with multiple aspects of it because it was an exchange fic, and I had to do that on a time limit. I wasn’t very happy with it while I was writing it, but I’m pleased now with how it turned out.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Probably Runalong, probably because it was so very self indulgent. I remember being able to write it all in several sessions, picking it up and continuing it easily. It was a great flow.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Any advice that flat out tells you not to use certain words is bad advice. Also that post that went around telling writers to use words that had wildly varying connotations instead of certain ”overused” words.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Cool enough that I can comfortably wear a light jacket/sweater, either ambient noise if I’m outside or familiar music that I can tune it out if I’m inside, and snacks!

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Assuming that I’d have permission, manage a similar style, and also manage to finish: I’d do the next fic in Vathara’s Blades of Blood series. There’s multiple plot threads I’d love to see continued and it’s ripe for more character interaction. Both of the written fics are exactly my kind of shit, and I would love more.

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

A comment on You In Me In You left by @shards-of-divinity 

I love all of your Venom stories. You have a unique way of writing them that's immediately recognizable as you and pleasant to read. ❤

I compare my writing/stats to other authors a lot. It’s something that I’ve been trying not to do and I’ve gotten better at not doing it lately. It means so much to me for someone to specifically say that my writing style is recognizable and pleasant to read, and it makes me feel seen as an author.

#saja-star #fanfic ask meme #venom #venom fanfic #long post

[born2battle]

New Raising of Victor Force (RR) in Kashmir Valley

     The challenge of new raising of Victor Force HQ ( Rashtriya Rifles ) was  most exciting, especially because it was planned  simultaneously with the counter insurgency operations which were at the peak in the Kashmir Valley. Our Force HQ was planned to be raised at Awantipur, which was a Field area, though only 20 km from Srinagar. Hence, we decided to choose Dhana as our Selected Place of Residence ( SPR ). This enabled my family to retain the accommodation at Dhana till completion of the Academic session. It also gave me the assurance of necessary assistance  to my family members while I was proceeding for my third tenure in J&K. 

     I undertook the long train journey from Sagar to Jammu, reminiscing about the pleasant memories of my command tenure as Tiger 98 and my long association with the Jat Balwan family. I reported in Jammu Transit Camp on 10 Oct 1994 and left by the Army convoy for Srinagar next morning. It was a fascinating journey of 270 kms, with brief halts at Transit Camps enroute. The view as we crossed the Pir Panjal Range through the Jawahar tunnel, at an altitude of 9000 ft. was really magnificent. The tunnel is 3 km in length & connects Banihal with Qazigund, in the Kashmir Valley. The convoy reached Srinagar Transit Camp before sunset & I felt happy to be received by the Liaison Officer from our Force HQ. He informed me about the schedule of my briefing next day, which was planned at the temporary location of our HQ in Badami Bagh Cantonment.

     I reported next morning at the Force HQ and was welcomed by the GOC. He gave an overview about the current situation of Counter Insurgency operations in the Kashmir Valley and explained the concept of operations by the Rashtriya Rifles Battalions, some of them were also in the process of raising simultaneously. The crest and motto of the Rashtriya Rifles was impressive. The RR crest consisted of the Ashok Chakra and two crossed rifles. Beneath, in a banner, was emblazoned the motto “Dhridhta aur Veerta”. Our area of responsibility extended from Banihal Pass ( also referred as the “Gateway of Kashmir” ) upto Zojila Pass ( also referred as the “Gateway of Ladakh”) and included all areas in depth of the LOC in the Kashmir Valley.

    Thereafter, I was assigned the task of checking the progress of works at the location of our HQ in Awantipur , which was nearing completion. I went to Awantipur with the QRT ( Quick Reaction Team ), which was  mandatory as per the SOP. My first visit to our new location on a dominating  feature was very educative. The operational works were being executed by the Engineer Regiment in adverse weather conditions. The works involved assembly of pre- fabricated shelters of various design for the Operations Room, the office complex, living facilities & other ancillaries such as electricity and water supply. Security cordon was  deployed along the perimeter during all  the stages of construction Finally, we deployed at our new location, with lot of enthusiasm by mid Nov & completed our Raising as Victor Force.

      Meanwhile, I completed my area familiarisation after visiting all the Sector HQ and the Rashtriya Rifles Battalions, sequentially along each  axis namely ---- towards Banihal, towards Kaman Aman Setu near Uri & towards Zojila, which remained closed for almost six months due to heavy snowfall and land slides. These visits enabled me to understand  the tactics employed by our troops while conducting  operations against the terrorists who operated from safe hideouts  in the forests and in the villages in the Valley. The type of operations were patrolling, area domination, ambushes, raids, route protection and cordon & search operations. Each type of operation was planned at our Force HQ after analysis of all the intercepts and various intelligence inputs, on a 24 x 7 basis. The execution of the specific operation was at the Battalion & Company levels. The operations were terminated after killing or capture of terrorists and recoveries of weapons , ammunition and explosives.  Bullet proof jackets & Bullet proof patkas were mandatory, not only during the operations but also during any movement within the Valley.

    As operations continued throughout the winters, I shouldered  three more new responsibilities. Our HQ had to prepare a press note after each operation and also organise a media interaction frequently. In addition, we were required to give a response in case of any alleged human rights violations. Most importantly, I was responsible for planning & organising the Rest and Relief schedule which was followed by the RR Companies to recuperate by rotation in Badami Bagh Cantonment. The spin off benefits were reduction of battle fatigue & improvement of combat efficiency.

   I was apprised about another major task of Rashtriya Rifles which had been completed successfully before I reported at Srinagar. It entailed providing security cover along both the routes for Amarnath Yatra. The holy shrine of Amarnath is located at an altitude of 12,800 ft. and can be reached after trekking either from Pahalgam or from Baltal.

     I learnt a lot from one major Cordon and Search Operation conducted at Tral, which was just 10 km from our HQ. We got to know from intelligence reports that a group of terrorists had forcibly evicted the villagers and had taken shelter in the village during the period of heavy snowfall. Immediately, we planned and launched a Cordon and Search Operation at the Battalion Level which continued for almost one week. In this action, 10 terrorists were killed and two were captured in an injured condition while some managed to escape the cordon. The interrogation revealed that several groups had infiltrated in the areas of Pulwama, Kupwara and Shopian. Large quantities of weapons, ammunition & explosives were recovered at the end of this operation. We also had a few battle casualties which were evacuated to the Base Hospital in Srinagar. The most satisfying aspect was that there was no collateral damage or civilian casualties. 

      In conclusion, I always cherish the memories of my contrasting experiences in two different Sectors of J& K  --- Poonch/ Rajouri Sector & the Kashmir Valley. My tenure in the” Ace of Spades” Division was a professionally enriching experience of three years on the LOC. In comparison, my short tenure in Victor Force ( RR ) was equally challenging & extraordinary experience of Counter Insurgency operations in the Kashmir Valley. Operations on the LOC were conducted by regular Infantry Battalions against Pakistani Battalions. However, Counter Insurgency operations in the Kashmir Valley were conducted in the depth areas in our own territory and were launched on the basis of intelligence inputs The difficulty was compounded further since the” Enemy” could not be identified as the terrorists were misguided youth from the local population and had the advantage of operating from their frequently changing  hideouts. Moreover, the RR Battalions were also newly raised by posting  suitable individuals on deputation, on the basis of mixed composition of 50% Infantry, 40% other Arms & 10% all Services. 

     In the first week of Apr 1995, I was delighted to receive the news about my selection for the prestigious Long Defence Management Course (LDMC). The Course was scheduled at College of Defence Management, Secunderabad. It was a well deserved recognition of my consistent performance throughout my career so far. My short tenure in Rashtriya Rifles proved to be my most memorable experience of Counter Insurgency Operations in the Kashmir Valley. It is relevant that in 2018, Rashtriya Rifles celebrated the Silver Jubilee having neutralised over 16,300 terrorists ( 8522 killed, 6737 apprehended & 1109 surrendered ). It has the unique distinction as the largest Counter Insurgency Force in the World !!! 

#rashtriya rifles #indian army #j&k #victor force

[ask-de-writer]

MET BY MOONLIGHT : (Part 2 of 3) : Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

MET BY MOONLIGHT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5740 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

written 2003 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

I was liking Laelia more and more. We ordered lunch and it was so good that we wolfed it down. We relaxed over coffee and watched the harbor. I could see Allison’s little sailboat skimming out past the breakwater. Laelia appeared to be thinking something over. I let her have time.

Abruptly Laelia said, “Just how interested are you in the local history?”

“I find it to be fascinating,” I said. Then with a grin added, “Almost as fascinating as my present company.”

“Flatterer. Why don’t you come to my house and have a look at my collection?” she asked. Then with an impudent smile said, “No etchings — — — Just woodcuts.”

“That sounds irresistible,” I said, reaching impulsively across the table and taking her hand. We left the Stone Oven and strolled up the street, away from the harbor.

Laelia’s house was on a side street a few blocks from my clinic. Changer’s Ct. I commented on the name and Laelia responded by telling me that money changers used to have shops along the court. Most of the lots along the street were overgrown with brush and trees. Obviously, few had ever lived here. It took a very long time for brush and trees to reach the size of the ones that I saw.

Laelia’s house was another surprise. At first glance, it seemed to be a thoroughly modern cottage set among large trees. Then I noticed traces of the original drive. There was a maple growing in it that was easily five feet through the bole. What at first I took to be siding proved to be hand-cut, adze squared timbers on closer examination. The proportions of the house betrayed great age. The more I looked, the older I realized it was.

The door was made of oak and beautifully carved. It was topped by the Darkmoon crest and filled with scenes from the history of Flocking Bay. I noticed that there were none depicting the Marquost massacre.

The inside of the house showed none of the betraying signs of its age. All was neat. The walls were finished in modern style and the lights and computer in the corner were up to date. The kitchen where she went to fix a pot of tea was as tidy and modern as the rest.

In the living room was a locked, glass front bookcase of antique design, if not a genuine antique. The dairies and other books of her history collection were housed in it.

Laelia emerged from the kitchen with the teapot and cups. She laid out the service, solid silver, not plated, or I was completely off base. I had seen a set like it once before. In a museum. Hallmarked Paul Revere.

She poured the tea and unlocked the bookcase. I carefully took down the first of the Darkmoon dairies and looked at it. It had been rebound several times and was in excellent condition, given the age of its pages. I took down several other volumes at random to assess their condition.

It was a pleasant surprise. Diaries of that era are usually delicate and crumbling. The Darkmoon Diaries were in excellent condition. Even the Hilstrom Diaries were in good shape. I recognized that the early Hilstrom Diaries had many palimpsest pages. In the 1600’s paper and parchment were dear.

For the first time, I learned the full name of that first ancient enemy. He was Eben (short for Ebenezer) Gaston Hilstrom. I did not find the personality revealed in the pages to be a likeable one. In spite of that, he was an acute observer and had much to tell, including the names, not only of his descendants but those of the other ‘founders’ of Flocking Bay. The massacre was described in great and self-righteous detail. Interestingly enough, the matchlock musket that Eben used to slay the Shaman would never fire again, no matter what was done towards repairing it. It was retired to Eben’s mantelpiece with a small plaque.

They had named the town for the many bird rookeries in its sheltered waters and woods.

The first of the Darkmoons had come a year later, from Civilized Europe, though she spoke English only haltingly. She had been a stowaway, fleeing from a forced marriage in Poland. Two ‘honest sailors’ vouched for her and Eben bought her indenture from them to reimburse the ship for her passage. He was pleasantly surprised at the low price that he paid. At the normal and customary rates, she would be a free person in only five years. Eben altered the price on the document of sale and had her services for seven.

Sipping Laelia’s excellent English tea, I turned to the Darkmoon Dairies. She was busy with official business, working away at her computer in the corner of the room. A few people came and went on routine business needing a Justice of the Peace. A few traffic and parking citations, an application for a marriage license, nothing extraordinary at all. After the marriage license applicant had gone, Laelia got down a large ledger type book and copied particulars from the application into it. She shut the book with a snap and a satisfied smile.

I looked up from my reading. The Darkmoon Dairies were fascinating in themselves but there was something that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t their age. I was certain of that. I determined to get copies of both sets of books, if Laelia would allow it.

“Laelia,” I asked hesitantly, “would it be alright with you if I brought over my digital camera and an ultraviolet light?”

She looked up from her work with a secretive smile and asked, “Why the U.V. light?”

I carefully held one of the first volumes of the Darkmoon Dairies open and pointed to a page. “This is a palimpsest. The older writing was erased, probably with a sponge of vinegar, and new writing done over it at right angles. A U.V. light picture of the page with the proper digital enhancement will reveal the original writing as well as that of your ancestress’.”

Her eyebrows raised up and her pupils widened in interest. She nodded. “I had experts look at them years ago. They thought that these weren’t recoverable. If you think that they are and it is as nondestructive as that, go ahead. I will need accurate copies of anything you get, both the palimpsests and the main books. I need good readable copies to give to Mrs. Alderman at the library anyway.” She grinned lupinely and added, “You cannot believe the determination of that woman where a historical document is concerned.”

“Then I will make three copies,” I replied. “One for you, one for the library and one for myself.”

“Yourself? You will have it in your computer and on disk won’t you?”

“I like the feel of paper in my hands when I’m studying. I’m old fashioned that way.”

She had crossed the room in uncanny silence and I nearly jumped when she laid a hand on mine. “I would very much like to recover those palimpsests but there is a problem. I don’t want all of them to be known. Can I sort which ones are to be available?”

What could I say? It was the only thing possible, so I said, “Certainly. I will have to have copies in my computer and storage devices but I won’t release anything without your consent.”

I hadn’t even realized that she was tense until she relaxed. “Thank you, Dr. Fredricks. I don’t know for sure what is there but I do know, from family tradition, that some of the parchment in the first volumes of both the Hilstrom and Darkmoon Dairies was made from skins salvaged from the Marquost village.”

Hiding my excitement, I said, “I have it on good authority that though the Marquost did not write, per-se, they did have a system of pictographs. Some claim to be able to interpret the few pictograms that survive.” I should know. As the last Shaman, I was one! And I had lied about the writing. The Marquost had been genuinely literate.

Laelia said with some authority, “With my family history, I am most curious about any such things. I made tracings of the ones on the Blackwall before you built your clinic around it. Does your system work on stone as well as paper?”

I grinned back at her. “The photographic system was originated for recovering lost stone pictograms. I made some pictures before I built the clinic around the Blackwall. Do you want to see them?” I was already sure of the answer and was pulling a wallet of photos out of my inside coat pocket.

Laelia looked carefully at my enhanced photos, brows knitted in concentration. Almost absently she opened the bookcase and pulled a slim binder out of a hidden drawer. She laid it open and took my photos in hand. After many minutes she laid aside my photos and looked at her drawings with new eyes. She picked up a pencil and began to sketch rapidly, muttering, “Of course, now it makes sense.” Her pencil down, she looked at me and nodded. “Yes, definitely do your magic on the books. Who knows what will be revealed?”

I agreed at once, before she could change her mind. Over the next several weeks Allison became sure that there was something going on between Laelia and myself because I was spending so much time over at the little house on Changer’s Ct. The job of photographing three hundred years of written history was huge. Also, the dairies were fascinating in themselves.

Among the hardships that the people of Flocking Bay endured were many minor animal attacks. Dog bites, the occasional bear mauling, being raked by an eagle for getting too close to a nest were just a few. Occasionally there was a fatal attack but those seemed rare. There appeared to be little discernible pattern to the attacks.

On the other side, Flocking Bay was not your typical small town that would die out. The small fishing fleet always managed to find the best and highest priced catches. Gardens and surrounding farms bloomed. Stores found active trade. No matter the vicissitudes of the world outside, depressions, wars, epidemics or whatever, Flocking Bay continued to prosper quietly.

Few ever wanted to leave and most of those came back.

Through all of this vast span of time the Darkmoons had stayed and observed. Oddly, there was no mention of marriages or husbands. All of the Darkmoon children were female and carried the family name. In so small a town, it was peculiar that nobody seemed to notice. It was simply accepted that the Darkmoons would cling to their ‘foreign’ ways. They stayed to themselves, out of the way, nearly out of town, on the virtually deserted Changer’s Ct. For almost all of that time, the one thing that they did do was handle the duties of the Justice of the Peace. Animal Control had been added to that office in the 1950’s.

The Darkmoons were always ready with assistance for those in the town who needed help. It might be a loan or perhaps just a suggestion for a way to make money. The Darkmoons showed little or no need for money themselves. They always appeared to have whatever they needed for the people that came to them. Perhaps they were independently wealthy. Nobody knew — or cared.

The Hilstrom Dairies ended in 1867. The Darkmoon Dairies came right up to the present. Laelia was still writing in the most recent volume.

The photography had been, if a long project, at least a simple one. Now the real work began. Allison now thought that Laelia and I had broken up. I spent all of my time at the computer, enhancing the palimpsests first.

Some were of no interest, just old notes or handbills of one sort or another. Others were very different. There was the original Darkmoon indenture contract, now recovered. The forgery to gain an extra two years of service showed too. More important to me were the ones on homemade parchment.

<==Previous   Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#MET BY MOONLIGHT #Part 2 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter three

Chapter three - excerpt : No. Not butterflies. Never butterflies. Fireflies! It would seem the little leftover rascal had found a friend. Two little beetles together, having fun and carefully shedding some light on her forlorn heart. Their fluttering however barely noticeable - still, there they were. And they did manage to somehow manifest themselves more clearly when Charlotte finally set foot in the lobby at the established hour. 'Nasty little buggers'.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: Not beta’d. And thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think...

Also on AO3 through this link

Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter three

London - Day twelve

Oh, curse those nervous jitters… Charlotte looked up from the desk and scanned the spectators in the conference room. They lied about those bright lights, she thought, they don’t completely black out the audience. Damn it.

She exhaled quietly and took a drink from her glass of water while the power point-presentation was started up for her. She could do this. There was no doubt. She repeated it in her mind like a mantra. Her mind would surely come around soon, however her stomach was in knots.

God, I have to find a way around this soon. Very soon. Close your eyes Charlie, take a deep breath.

Charlotte would hear the spectators shuffling in their seats, the subtle buzz of people talking and flipping through their syllabi while they waited…. It was always the same story. That same petrifying and paralysing stage fright that kept on haunting her, wherever she would go. The absolute horror of getting that first sentence out there… but then, once she was past that, she would be on a roll. She knèw it. If only she could get at that point easier or faster somehow.

So Charlotte tried reminding herself some of the reassuring words friends and family had spoken to her to break her anxiety. Her brother’s “imagine the crowd in their kinkiest underwear!” never ceased to make her smirk just a little bit. But today, it was Tom’s “you’re passionate about your work. You’ll be fine,” that suddenly echoed through her mind. It brought a slight smile to her face and gave her that much-needed boost of confidence she was looking for.

And on that high, Charlotte confidently launched her theories on medical assistance with end of life decisions from her professional yet controversial point of view. Ready to take on the world. Preferably by storm. The feedback after her presentation was larger than she had expected and made for an interested debate in the auditorium as well as captivating conversations during the ensuing lunch break.

When the colloquium concluded for the day, Charlotte felt both satisfied and exhausted. As she walked back to her hotel room all she really longed for was a hot bath and a good book in that pristine air-conditioned hotel room. She was however surprised at the fact that the hotel manager, while handing her back her room key, informed her a message had been left for her at the front desk.

A wave of worry rippled through her, and a monster like claw clenched itself around anxious heart. She feared at first that some emergency had occurred family-wise, but then surely they would have tried calling her cell phone? They knew she kept the device close to her at all times. Surely, they would have rang,… wouldn’t they?

While she questioned the manager if he was absolutely sure, he spelled her name to which she could only nod affirmatively.

Maybe it was a work-related issue? An urgent case-file perhaps? My god, please not now, she wished. It was as if, after the debate all energy had escaped her body.

She longed for her home, her living room, where she could curl up in her favourite nook of the sofa with a good book and some lounge music playing in the background.

A large yellow manila envelope was handed to her. It weighed light in her hands. It couldn’t hold more than one page, she concluded, so hardly a professional emergency. Her mind worriedly drifted back to her family, the monster claw tightened his grip around her heart. Good news rarely came in tiny packages…

Charlotte opened the envelope in the elevator. She had no patience. It was somewhat of a problem, but on a professional level it was one of her best traits. On the beautiful hotel stationary a message was typed out. Apparently a phone call had come in, requesting her. The message was short and to the point, and with a sigh of relief her lips curved into a smile as her eyes scanned the narrative.

I hope your day went well. You’re very kindly invited to a small gathering of people tonight. It’s Ben’s birthday -  so you can’t really say no. Meet me in the lobby at 6.30 PM. Dress casually; it’s an outside event. Greetings from Tom.

Her unfounded agony quickly made way for butterflies. No. Not butterflies. Never butterflies. Fireflies! It would seem the little leftover rascal had found a friend. Two little beetles together, having fun and carefully shedding some light on her forlorn heart. Their fluttering however barely noticeable - still, there they were. And they did manage to somehow manifest themselves more clearly when Charlotte finally set foot in the lobby at the established hour. Nasty little buggers.

Her choice of attire earned her that first broad smile of his. Talk about an icebreaker.

“M’lady,” Tom unfolded himself from his seat and gave her a polite nod accompanied with a gentle wink. “Good sir,” Charlotte beamed at the elegant appearance in front of her, “will this do?” “You look lovely darling,” he kissed her on the cheek. There was that wonderful scent again. His beard softly brushed against her cheek, “I’m pleased you made it.” “Well you didn’t exactly give me the chance to say no, did you?” she impishly reprimanded. “It’s all Benedict really. He requested your presence for his birthday. I have nothing to do with it.” “No, you’re just the innocent messenger,” Charlotte teased. “Quite right,” he added with a proud nod, “we – I mean he thought you might appreciate the warmth of company, rather than a lonely hotel room.” “How very considerate of,” she paused calculatedly, “him,”

A mischievous grin followed as he offered her his arm, “let’s go, shall we?”

After that successful lecture she was oozing with confidence. She felt quite bold and adventurous all of a sudden. But Charlotte also had a lousy sense of direction and once in Tom’s car she internally fretted whether this was a good idea or not. Where was she headed? Was he a good driver? The control freak in her fought for supremacy, whereas her tired mind looked forward to an evening of mystery and was more than eager to surrender herself to whatever surprises that might cross her path in the course of the evening. Charlotte wriggled in her seat and it didn’t go by unnoticed.

“Are you alright darling?” he queried humorously. “Yes,” she nodded before adding with a kind-hearted laugh, “actually no. You drive on the other side of the road for starters.”

There was that second broad smile of the night.

“Also,” she puffed out a short exhale, “I’m suddenly very aware that I am putting my life in your hands here.” He glanced over at the young woman next to him and nodded in earnest now, “I am aware.” “Be careful with it?” it sounded more flirtatious than she had intended. But it was immediately rewarded with a lopsided smile of his and his heartfelt word. “I promise that you will not regret having put your trust in me…”

2.  

When the front door swung open, it revealed a very happy birthday boy. Benedict was obviously in tremendous good spirits and cheerfully he guided his guests into his home. As they exchanged pleasantries, he watched his friend guide his ‘plus one’ for the evening inside. And it occured to him then and there that it really was a delightful thing to see.

Tom had run this particular idea past Benedict earlier that day. He’d mentioned having spent the previous night out and about with Charlotte and just felt like maybe, surely, it would a fitting thing to invite her to this little get-together. ‘So she could spend an evening in pleasant company rather than in a lonely hotel room. You know just to reciprocate that informal BBQ-event from earlier that month’. However, Tom was not the one throwing the party.

It had taken Benedict no consideration at all to agree with Tom’s idea. Finally, he teased, you’re bringing a ‘plus one’ for a change… Tom had chuckled and rolled his eyes at this. ‘No, no, none of that. She’s pleasant company, it’s the right thing to do and that was that.’

But, in secret, he did look forward to spending some more time with her. Her and her warm laugh, her perceptive humour and quick wit. He wanted to know how her lecture had been, had it been well received? Was she happy about her day, what were her further plans, what was that book again she’d labelled a must-read for him the previous night… He felt as though there were more questions to ask, more stories to be shared. All purely platonic of course.

Tom still kicked himself a bit for having acted so forward earlier that month. And he was quite hesitant about meeting her again in the Theatre the night before. All ‘should he or shouldn’t he’. Should he ignore that anything had ever happened between them earlier on, or should he offer - another - apology about it? All this apprehension on his part had instantly vanished though the moment he’d set his eyes on her again in the Theatre yesterday. It had been lovely to see her again, to talk to her again. And he quickly concluded that the past was merely water under the bridge. She didn’t seem to be hung-up on it. So neither should he. He was only hung up on her. But… pure platonically. Of course.

Because Tom was far too rational to believe in silly, trivial things such as love at first sight. His mind didn’t deem it possible. You just cànnot fall in love with someone you don’t know. However he did accept there was something like ‘lust at first sight’. And that had to be what it was. It was the only explanation for what had occurred twelve days ago. That and alcohol. After all, the facts were the facts. He’d spend weeks on end travelling around the globe, suffering jet lag after jet lag, answering all the same questions all over again. (Although creatively repackaged by every single interviewer or talk show host, bless them.)

And while it was unquestionably exciting to launch the new movie, beyond pleasing to finally be able to reward all fans for their relentless support and anxiously await their reactions, at the end of the day - in whatever time zone he was residing-  Tom was exhausted, lonesome and yearning for home, his home, his dog, his family. Full stop.

That night at ComiCon was the early prelude to his 8 week-hiatus. He’d let go of everything and was enchanted with conversations that for once did not centre around his work. He might have had a gin tonic too many, that was true. But he did enjoy the fact his mind was allowed to roam free for a while. Charlotte had asked the right questions, said the right things, she was a breath of fresh air and he –foolishly- took it.

Tom snapped out of his thoughts when he’d heard Benedict mentioning his wife Sophie was just putting their 2 children to bed. A pang of remorse went through him; there was an anecdote he had promised to share with them that evening and now it was too late. His remorse must have been showing, because Benedict was quick to suggest Tom could – if he wanted to - just run up very-very quickly to say goodnight and share whatever his kids had been going on and on about that afternoon. ‘Just don’t wind them up too much‘, Benedict warned in a true paternal style.

Though relieved, Tom’s attention momentarily drifted back to Charlotte. He couldn’t just leave her there all alone, now could he? That would be bad form on him towards his ‘plus one’. But Benedict – bless his heart – had already quipped that he would make sure to introduce Charlotte to the rest of the group in the meantime. He’d offered her his arm, which she did not hesitate to accept, and with a soft chuckle Charlotte urged Tom to go ahead and visit the children before Benedict galantly led her the way to the garden.

3. The sight immediately took Charlotte’s breath away. The heat in London was unbearable. Even at night the temperatures hardly dropped. The sight of a peaceful garden party under a canopy of trees brought joy to her heart. Forget that bath and that book. Air-conditioning or not. Here a person could breathe and come back to earth again…

The guests consisted of a small group of people, mostly Benedict’s closest friends from college days. And as promised, Charlotte was kindly introduced to the group, who was very welcoming towards her. She was seated on a picnic bench at a picture perfect table. A genuine and spontaneous debate ensued when Charlotte answered toward the reason of her stay in the city. Frankly, she’d gotten quite used to the level of controversy end of life-matters created and she readily met all opinions that bounced onto her - both pro and contra her reasoning - with diplomacy, tact and humour.

She wasn’t aware of Tom’s return until she felt his hand softly resting against her shoulder blade. “I see you’re blending in well,” he whispered softly as he took the seat to her side. “Kids went too sleep alright?” Benedict queried as he sweetly placed a kiss on his wife’s lips as she momentarily rested against the armrest of his chair. “Perfect,” Sophie replied, “Uncle Tom apparently reads the best bedtime-stories,” “I made a promise,” a timid laugh on his behalf, “and I don’t like to break my promises.” “Hmm, I’m amazed no one has made you a godfather yet,” Benedict’s wife pondered quietly. “Well, maybe now’s a better time than ever?” Benedict chuckled as he placed his hand on his wife’s stomach, “after this perfect birthday present ever.”

The table went dead quiet as the news of the pregnancy slowly sank in. If Charlotte hadn’t felt out of place before, she sure felt like it now. Within seconds congratulations were up in the air, friends kissed and hugged the expecting couple while a very confused yet proud Tom solemnly swore to take his duty as godfather very seriously.

Charlotte evidently made a point of congratulating both parents before turning to her side to extend her heartfelt wishes to a visibly affected Tom. Without thinking she enthusiastically planted a sweet kiss onto his cheek. She was the first and only one who did. It flattered him. It graced her.

The announcement was the joyous prelude of what turned out to be an easy-going and quite entertaining evening. Charlotte was delighted at how the friendliness of the company quickly enclosed her, how they were mindful of her in conversations and elaborated on some background details so she would be able to follow. Her eyes had darted from the group of friends to Tom on occasion. She particularly enjoyed how at times his words could make her feel as though she was the only one he was talking to.

She was introduced to some silly British party games and laughed profusely when the moment came for the real birthday celebration. Tom kindly narrated the usual order of their silly ritual and Charlotte rested her hand on his arm when she was stuck in a fit of giggles because of it.

Tom was thoughtful and attentive. At the slightest shiver he had draped his jacket over her shoulders before he offered to fetch the pashmina she’d left in his car.

Their interaction had a familiar feel to it. It just … worked. If she would have to put it into words, she would probably confess that he made her feel welcome and appreciated. She honestly never would have put any more rational thought into it. That is until Benedict’s wife struck up a conversation with her while Tom had sauntered off in search of Charlotte’s scarf.

The brunette leaned in a bit closer from across the table and exchanged a kind smile with Charlotte. “I see Tom’s taking good care of you,”

Linguistically it was a simple observation, but everybody knows that in between women a lot can be said through simple observations. Perhaps even more than we hold dearly. “Yes, he’s very considerate,” Charlotte agreed, after all it was true. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

A loud cackle escaped from Charlotte’s throat. She wasn’t even aware she could cackle. She feverishly giggled the comment away, and hoped she didn’t turn beet red in the process. “No, no,” she shook her head, “believe me, no dates here… I’m just a ‘plus one’ for the evening – a pity invite if you will.”

But the expecting brunette simply smiled encouragingly under a knowing nod and continued as if Charlotte had never protested against her question. “Men like these are hard to come by…”

It was a beautiful and very fitting compliment towards Tom. He earned all credit in that department. He was handsome but not the in-your-face kind of way, he was attentive but also deliciously masculine. He was intelligent and hilariously funny when he wanted to be. And, though tipsy, he had proven to being a great kisser… Ok, ok, so he would be a catch. But Charlotte wasn’t really looking for anything. Right? Right.

”Believe me, Charlotte,” she nudged, “I know.” She caught Sophie secretively and not so secretively rewarding her doting husband with a wink. A testament of a deep and true love, it warmed Charlotte’s heart.

4.

If she had to be honest, Sophie’s words did resonate with her. Charlotte excused herself to go to the restroom, while in fact she just wanted to get away from the conversation. She let the cold water run over her wrists, checked her make-up in the mirror and sighed. Charlotte had wanted to blame the alcohol for giving someone courage to blurt out such a fictitious statement, but Sophie was undeniable sober because hello - pregnant?

Charlotte’s inner control freak had allowed her only one glass of champagne so she was indisputably lucid enough to see things for what they were. Her tireless mind kindly reminded her Tom hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since his first and only glass of champagne, being the designated driver and all.

As Charlotte’s mind quickly recapped it concluded that Tom was just being charming and chivalrous. So definitely-maybe pregnancy hormones were plaguing Sophie. And possibly she was just joking, after all how good did Charlotte really know her?

But more, much more than this Charlotte was astonished why she was even given this silly remark so much thought. Why was she getting worked up over this? After all, she was going home the following day. She would never see Tom - or anyone else for that matter - again after this evening. As the realisation hit, her stomach dropped a bit.

Charlotte scolded herself and commanded herself to stop being so pubertal about it. Still deep in thought she strolled back out onto the patio, taking a moment to admire the scenery. A couple of women sat chatting at the table, in the backyard a small group of friends were quarrelling over a game of Kubb. It really was a lovely evening, she mused, and she owed it to herself to enjoy it more profusely.

"Hi,” his accustomed voice rang into her ear. With a smile Charlotte greeted Tom as he walked out of the house himself, “hi.” “Found it,” he held up her pashmina proudly as he walked up to her. He was tall; it made her thankful she’d opted to wear a reasonable height in pumps… “You look good,” Charlotte pondered.

Shit. Was that out loud?

“Better rested, I mean. You look… better rested.” Charlotte hastened to add and stumbled over her words. She laughed and shook her head; her hand carefully rubbing her forehead in the process, “oh I’m tripping over my words tonight, aren’t I?” “You’re tired,” Tom concluded amused. “I am,” she agreed, “I think I have more understanding for you and your travelling ways now. It seems so glamorous from afar, but …” “It does get under your skin, doesn’t it?” She nodded with a smile, “hmm.” “Allow me,” he offered. And though Charlotte chuckled and mentioned it was fine, Tom remained adamant in his intent to drape the refined accessory over her shoulders.

Perfect gentleman, see Sophie? A mere perfect gentleman.

“I can’t get over how beautiful this place is,” Charlotte mentioned while he dutifully unfolded the silky scarf, “such a quiet green oasis in the midst of the madness.”

“Mmm, it’s quite something, isn’t it? Sophie really has a knack for design and decorating… ” he added while frowning over which side was in and wish side was out.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Charlotte smiled at the sight of Tom stubbornly struggling along, “that was very considerate of you. Thank you.” A humorous sigh escaped Charlotte’s lips and she shook her head in comical despair  “I keep repeating myself.”

“You do,” he answered softly, locking his eyes with hers momentarily, “but I don’t mind repeating you’re very welcome.”

He turned the pashmina in his hands around proudly, “I think I’ve got in now…” and with that draped it around her and over her shoulders.

Charlotte enjoyed the languid rhythm of their conversation. It contrasted so marvellously towards the hectic day that had left her drained. And the entertaining festivities in the evening had allowed her to release all the built-up adrenaline. Fatigue fell over her like a soft blanket and she supressed a yawn but held a chuckle when she saw him bunching up the material as he tried out some type of elegant knot. Her hands clasped over his, “no, no, not like that, no knots…”

“Christ I’m helpless at this, I’m afraid,” he admitted with a sigh as his eyes briefly locked with hers. “But such a beautiful summer night, isn’t it? Festivities, music in the air,"  he continued and gestured towards her, "pleasant company, …”

Charlotte’s mind short circuited for a moment when she caught him looking at her again. With sympathy. His look was honest and warm, his eyes mesmerizingly blue. She saw his tongue quickly dart over his lips as he breathed in, ready to speak on.

And though her heart thundered in her chest, she didn’t feel any warmer. Not one bit. Quite the contrary. An observable shiver ran across her spine.

“Are you all right darling? Are you cold, still?” Tom questioned apprehensively.

Charlotte - grateful for the diversion that allowed her to tear her eyes away from Tom at long last - shook her head, hoping it would chase away this sudden cloud of confusion that had started to enclose her. She pulled the pashmina higher and tighter over her shoulders, wishing she could curl up and hide in it altogether.

“No, just tired. I get cold when I’m tired,” she tilted her head, “It’s erm – it’s been a long day.”

“Oh! Right,” he remembered, his right hand flying to his head at his silly neglect.

“And I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow, …”

“Surely, no talks about death over breakfast already?”

“Well... yes. Basically,” Charlotte smiled apprehensively, “we’re a fun group, I tell you.”

“Shall I take you back to your hotel?” he voiced his concern.

“No, no, I don’t want to impose, I could get a taxi just as well…”

“I’ll have none of that,”

“I know, but I’m fine.”

“Even if you did - and you are most definitely not -” he interrupted her kindly, “I’d happy to oblige nonetheless. C’mon, let’s go.” And with that he ran his warm hand up and down her spine reassuringly, an effort to bring her warmth... but Charlotte only shivered once more.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #simple-things

[technicalcare]

Facts About Air conditioning companies Revealed

Upcoming, transform off the facility switch right at the furnace or air handler. Then yank the disconnect block (Photo one) and clean up the condenser coils (Picture 2). In the event the air conditioning service still does not work correctly Once you've cleaned the condenser coils, installed a brand new filter and opened all the supply vents, continue with the subsequent repairs. Your AC will never do the job absolutely unless you make this happen.24/7 on-desire aircon service: Staffed that has a 24/7 help desk crew, Marvellous Aircon are prepared To help you with any queries at any time. Regardless if you are dealing with a defective device, or would like to enquire about their costs, you can do so at any time by giving the team a quick get in touch with or concept. Don did an excellent position from the general performance of a routine inspection and maintenance of my air managing unit. He was incredibly personable and acted in an expert fashion. I have used Accredited Heating and Cooling for the earlier couple of years and are actually a lot more than satisfied.Accessibility. In the event your devices is not really quickly available, the rate could possibly be larger. When the technician must Minimize down overgrown foliage or go factors all-around to obtain to your device, you can be charged a prep payment for enough time it's going to take ($60-$75 an hour). Most motor vehicle homeowners understand how regular maintenance like oil alterations, tire rotations and filter adjustments can go a long way toward maximizing functionality.HomeAdvisor's Screening Method HomeAdvisor utilizes an extensive screening system to display screen organizations and business owners/principals. We perform this screening when a company applies to sign up for our community and, In the event the company is recognized, Yet again each two years next — or Each time issues are introduced to our consideration. Be sure the filter is positioned correctly and which the airflow arrows are pointing in the correct way.Moreover the fact that these contractors usually are nicely-versed inside the advantages and drawbacks of different units, they also have the neighborhood familiarity with how these units carry out in Phoenix. In a natural way, the proper air conditioner for an L.A. home might not be the best device for yourself. When looking at distinct nationwide suppliers, you might be not likely to uncover such a precise and worthwhile information. Duct Systems Adjust to social distancing guidelines whilst the technician is carrying out perform. Usually do not make Actual physical connection with experts, retain not less than six ft of distance concerning you constantly, sanitize all concerned Areas and area and pay back using a digital platform as an alternative to funds or possibly a Examine.Remarkably experienced to repair any aircon concern: From advanced aircon repair troubles to small servicing challenges, DW Aircon Servicing Singapore’s technologies-pushed service and knowledgeable experts will attend to any aircon disaster – and will not depart until it can be resolved.  1 and ensure it really is on vehicle and never in the ‘on’ place. Also, be certain the circuit breaker did not vacation. If none of those seem to be the situation, it may be finest to get in touch with a professional.Just a great working experience. We experienced several other people in to have a look at our previous industrial air conditioner. Armen with air-0-statWas the only a single who seriously discussed just what was going on after which he stayed into the evening and got everything set at an unbelievable price A great deal decrease than anyone else.  ten include things like ice forming on the outside device, the device just Home maintenance services dubai isn't cooling your house, any hissing sounds coming with the device, or warm air popping out with the vents.This amazing very little box is known as the CoolAir. A product of German engineering that has now acquired the endearing nickname of “Bloop” with the many customers its already encouraging neat off and breath cleanse.

Next, check whether your point out or metropolis needs HVAC and AC industry experts to be licensed. In that case, any person you work with must comply with these prerequisites. Carlos is rather Expert and was capable to turn close to my HVAC improve really quickly at an extremely acceptable cost. I very suggest him for almost any HVAC requires.Make contact with the top HVAC contractors near you to learn more with regards to the central air installation system and to get started on acquiring no cost estimates. Wow discuss “night time & working day” variation! This man diagnosed more around texts than two in-residence visits from the last vendor. He even made an effort to converse me through the difficulties and fix it without having me investing a dime.They really answered their telephones. I scheduled an appointment THAT day. The tech arrived out around the appointed hour and resolve my equipment at an excellent…He truly went over and outside of for me and I really recognize his professionalism - and also he’s just a super great male which manufactured The full procedure simple for us. To arrange a safe session or appointment having an HVAC technician over the COVID-19 pandemic, begin by evaluating professionals in your town in a web-based search.What’s The ultimate way to create a consultation or an appointment by using a HVAC technician during the COVID-19 pandemic? From Business enterprise: We are a family members run enterprise considering that 1973. Our plumbers have over 25 many years encounter in repair plumbing. We strive to repair the worn and change fixtures as…Most HVAC failures produce eventually as an alternative to getting a unexpected malfunction. The quicker a company can send out a technician to your home, the greater most likely They are really to catch an overworked motor or small coolant ahead of it damages your procedure. Regional contractors can offer a lot more services such as: I had been very satisfied and happy with the general insulation of my New Air conditioning device and residential furnace. The profits Rep, and cell phone team were extremely type, valuable and answered all my inquiries. I might propose Capella when looking for these services. Thanks CapellaSee additional Oscar confirmed up by the due date, was Tremendous pleasant, and was extremely straightforward about what was going on While using the HVAC device and what he advised be completed to fix it. Highly encouraged. Seek the advice of with all your technician to see Home maintenance services dubai If your technician can accomplish a movie contact session. Yow will discover regional technicians near you by seeking on-line.Rio Falls Landscaping can be a first-class, Expert business to deal with. They are doing great landscaping get the job done - no matter whether or not it's installing a new…