#if you thought that was a rug and went Oh. ...that was on purpose :^)))))

[rendevok]

Act I ~ The Prince

A tapestry for Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3

II ~ III

[lieslostinsilence]

Harder in That Vest

Author's note: This was a fanfic written for my best friend who went crazy when these pictures dropped. Decided to share it with yall. I do welcome feedback or any thoughts! Enjoy~ Bye-um~ Description: Lust. Control. Consequence. He wore the vest to provoke you—but desire’s a dangerous game, and now he’s beneath you, wrecked and whining, wearing nothing but the smirk you kissed clean off. Warnings: Smut (18+), dom!reader, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it up in real life!), teasing, light power play, overstimulation, slight clothing kink (vest stays on), hair pulling, begging/whining, degradation-flavored praise, mildly unhinged behavior. Inspo Song: Cyperpunk by Ateez

You shoved him.

Caught off guard, Hongjoong stumbled back with a startled grunt, his eyes going wide as the back of his knees hit the couch and he tumbled ungracefully onto the floor. He was still wearing that goddamn vest—open enough to show off the cut of his chest and arms, biceps bulging as he braced himself, hair tousled, smirk hanging loose on his lips.

You dropped into his lap before he could get comfortable. And you kissed the smirk clean off his face.

Your mouth was hungry—desperate—and he matched you for all of five seconds before you grabbed a fistful of his collar and yanked him down, deepening the kiss until he was gasping against your lips.

“You wore this on purpose,” you growled, tugging roughly at the vest, bunching it around his shoulders but not pulling it off.

He grinned—smug, cocky, so sure of himself. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

Your eyes narrowed. “You think this is funny?”

Then you shoved him flat onto the floor.

The laugh died in his throat, replaced by a sharp inhale as his back hit the carpet and you straddled him, grinding slow over the bulge in his pants. His vest shifted slightly with his movements, giving you flashes of smooth skin and taut muscle, the open fabric brushing against you every time he moved.

You leaned down and kissed the hollow of his throat, biting hard enough to make him groan.

“I’m going to ruin you in this vest,” you whispered.

His hands gripped your hips. “Please do.”

You slid down his body, eyes locked on his as you undid his zipper. His cock sprang free—hard, already leaking, flushed against his stomach—and when you leaned in and dragged your tongue along the base, he made a sound that shattered you.

A whine.

High and breathy. Completely unintentional. Completely wrecked.

You smiled against him. “Oh, that’s cute. Want to make that sound again for me?”

“Nngh—please,” he gasped, trembling beneath your mouth as you took him in deep. His thighs tensed, his abs flexed under the open flaps of that stupid, sexy vest, and his hands fisted into the rug as you bobbed your head, relentless.

He was falling apart. And you hadn’t even started.

When you felt him getting close, hips twitching, groans turning into gasps, you pulled off with a wet pop.

He whimpered—yes, whimpered—his hand reaching for you in desperation.

“W-why’d you stop—”

“Because I didn’t say you could come,” you said sweetly, climbing back over him. “And you're going to sit there, in that vest you wore to tease me, and take every second of this.”

You grabbed his cock, lined him up, and sank down on him in one smooth, claiming motion.

He let out a choked moan, head tilting back, muscles jumping under your palms as you settled over him. The vest framed his body like a goddamn altar, open and loose but still there, and something about it—the contrast between clothing and chaos—made it all the more unhinged.

You rode him like you meant it.

Slow. Deep. Delicious. Then faster. Rougher. Riding out every whimper, every breathy curse, every shaky gasp of your name as his hands gripped your thighs like lifelines.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you whispered, leaning in, your chest pressing against his as you ground down harder. “Panting. Squirming. In that stupid vest. You should wear it more often.”

“I—I will—fuck, I will—” he babbled, eyes fluttering shut, “just don’t stop—don’t stop—”

You didn’t.

And when you finally gave him permission to come, it hit him so hard his back arched off the floor, body shaking beneath you. He moaned into your mouth, cock twitching deep inside you as you came seconds after, clenching around him hard enough to pull another whine out of his throat.

You collapsed on his chest, panting, sweat-slicked.

He didn’t even try to speak.

You looked up after a moment, seeing him—eyes glazed, hair a mess, still wearing that vest like some unholy armor—and smirked.

“I should’ve fucked you the second you put that on.”

[vanillaanillav]

Something I’ve been thinking about is that Till and Ivan knew from as soon as they got the layout of the bracket that they would end up against each other. And while we know what Ivan’s plan was—he would likely throw their match—what the hell was Till thinking? Was he trying not to think about it? His focus in the first round was to confess to Mizi, but he also Very forcefully ensured his success by pulling the rug out from under his opponent. 

Of course they both knew Ivan would win his match. Did Till think he had a chance, or did he think he’d lose? Before Mizi went missing and he suddenly got super popular, was he planning to give his all? I imagine he must have been. Maybe justifying it with the idea that Ivan would win anyway, so he’d go out with a bang, as was his pre-depression philosophy. 

There’s still so much we don’t know about Till’s feelings about Ivan—I think a purposeful move from the creators. I know they chose specifically to make Ivan’s feelings unrequited to contrast Mizisua, but they were friends! And if not friends anymore, there was some sense of comfort and familiarity in just knowing each other. Till acted aggressively to Ivan, but all in reaction to what he thought was intentional provocation (see: cheer up comic). And despite that, he let him follow him around.

In the scene where Ivan touches the cut on his face, he initially reacts aggressively and then sees that it’s Ivan and… calms down? Or gives up? It’s bizarre, I don’t think he’s scared of Ivan exactly, but in these tiny windows we see into how he feels about him, it’s very mixed. I wonder if he feels guilty about turning back when they were kids. Or he doesn’t know how to process Ivan’s attention or what to do about it. 

It should be clear that Ivan is like, embarrassingly horrendously terribly in love with him, but when Ivan kisses him he’s SO shocked. He pulls away, but after the second kiss he looks like he starts to realize that like, oh, this is for real, and there’s just a tiny moment of that before he thinks Ivan is trying to kill him and he gives up. 

There’s something to be said about how he just accepts that Ivan is trying to kill him after he kisses him. After going through what he went through with the aliens—there’s the split second of confused realization, and then he accepts it as just someone else taking something from him, violence and physical intimacy irreparably intertwined. 

I wonder what he thinks when Ivan gives him that last small kiss. If he took the other kisses, this one he gave, this one a gift, a tiny reassurance. I wonder what he thinks after all of it—it’s so much to process in such a short time. I would pay a hundred million dollars to know his thought process in that moment like holy shit man. 

Also, in relation to Ivan’s dislike of Sua and then his later hypocritical sacrifice, a lot of people have talked about how he wasn’t being a hypocrite because she was leaving behind a lover and he was leaving behind the object of his affection, not someone with a mutual feeling. And I think that’s true. I imagine he knew he was going to do the same thing as her and lashed out partly as a kind of projection. Partly out of jealousy that she Had a lover to leave behind, while he thought Till wouldn’t really care about his death.

But I also think (based on the Stage 6 comic) that he gets a brief moment of clarity at the very end where he realizes that their situations aren’t so dissimilar after all, hence the “I shouldn’t have been so hard on her.” He really cocooned himself in the idea that Till didn’t care and would never care, in a way where it almost became comforting to him. But, in those final seconds, after choosing to be selfish with the kiss and then be selfless with his sacrifice, he did realize that Till will be affected by this. Hence, thanking him for being the victim of his fragile feelings. 

It’s such a sad idea… only being willing to contend with the possibility that someone cares about you in some capacity when you’ve already made your exit. It’s cowardly and I think he knows that, but I also think it’s part of that final indulgence he takes. He gets to kiss Till and gets to avoid a world without him. Till gets to live. It’s hard to say which is the better path.

[huge-jacked-man-is-bae]

Late night pt.2

In which Logan realize that you're his whole world, but of course too stubborn to admit it at first.

Special thanks to @gewrgia-black and @flow33didontsmoke for the comments ❤️

Warning(s): arguments, angst, Reader is fed up with Logan's bs, slight use of "fucking" (once)

Pairing: Old man Logan x Reader

No use of Y/N

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Ever since you woke up a week before, in your bed, you were confused. So so confused. You remember falling asleep on the couch, but you ended up in your bed. You tried to ask Logan about it, but he just shrugged it off, didn't even give you a straight answer. Days went by, but you still could take your mind off of it. So it means that he cares.... Somehow... underneath all that grumpy exterior. Charles mentioned you before how hellish his life was, how many people he had lost, how many people betrayed him. And you hated the fact that anyone would do that to Logan.

Then after the revelation of his Adamantium poisoning, you were devastated. Your instincts told you, that you want to take care of him, even if he doesn't like it, even if he starts to complain about it. You didn't care. Even sometimes Charles was saying how a disappointment Logan was, how he's not the man he used to be.. and it shattered your heart. To see Logan just live day by day, come back to the smelting power plant you and the others call home, being drunk and just acting like he didn't even care about the world.. but.... You were his world. He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to give into his feelings, not after what he went through. He was afraid... Afraid of what might happen if he just give in.

Waking up, making breakfast, taking care of Charles, making lunch and dinner, doing laundry. That was your routine, all these weeks. The tension was palpable every time you looked at Logan or you were just in the same space as him. And when he came home with bruises and bullet wounds all over his torso and arms, you wanted to help him, comfort him. But as hard headed as he is, he pushed you away. Told you that he didn't need your help, that he wasn't a pathetic man.

It drove you mad, even if you weren't a mutant, you defied Logan, even spoke back to him if he was making you angry, it was rare, but oh boy. He drew you up the wall. Charles knew, he felt it. Felt how you were drawn to Logan, but he knew that he shouldn't intervene in this. All he did was to support you.

"He won't get any younger, you'll never know when his time is up." You recalled Charles' words in your head several times before. Thinking about the possibility of being with Logan, to take care of him like you always wanted, taking care of him like you never imagined it would happen. Your body felt it too. Every time you felt hot, Your body heated up every time you thought about it, and holy mother of Christ, Logan picked on it. Your smell, the scent of your arousal hit his nose Every time, it drives him insane. Knowing that you're Iike this cause of him, and him alone. He knew he was getting addicted...to your sight, to your voice, your eyes, your body. It drove him insane, his heart couldn't take it, his instincts told him to make a move , to get the opportunity to take on his feelings and be god damn happy. But his doubts held him back, damnit.

"Here's your coffee, Lo..." You placed his cup of coffee down on the kitchen table as he sat in one of the chairs, looking rough and tired as usual. He was still handsome, even if he was rugged and old looking. The Adamantium poisoning is something that you're aware of, but you were too afraid to ask how he is. How is the poisoning affecting him.

"Thanks, bub.." he grunted and didn't even look up at you, like he was ignoring you on purpose, his big hand held into the ear of the cup and took a big sip from his coffee, he let out an approving hum.

"Thank you, by the way..." You said rather shyly and fidgeted with your thumbs. Logan saw how nervous you were but decided not to point it out.

"For what exactly?" He asks

"I remember laying on the couch yesterday, waiting for you. And....when I woke up this morning, I was in bed.." he shrugged his shoulders and waved it off with his free hand.

"Maybe you walked back to your bedroom, you just don't remember it.." he tried to sound defensive, didn't want to admit that he actually felt relieved and content that he managed to put you to your bed, to hold you close, even if you weren't conscious. You rolled your eyes and sighed in annoyance, clearly frustrated by his answer.

"I could smell your cologne on my clothes when I woke up. Why can't you say it? You put me to bed." You asked rather harshly. You didn't mean to snap at him like that.

"That doesn't mean anything, bub" he says, defending himself once again, trying to sound nonchalant, but his heart was hammering inside of his chest, tending to burst out in any second.

"For you maybe not, but for me... It means that you care about me, Lo." Logan scoffed and gave you the cold shoulder as usual. His stoic demeanor didn't change, despite the fact that you were right. He's growing soft on you, but his life, the way he lives.. the monster he is... No.. he cannot let you get hurt. Not you... His whole world. Damnit why was this so much?? Agonizing and hurtful?? He often thought about it, how it'd feel to have you by his side, kissing him, touching him, fucking him till he cant breathe anymore..

"Don't read too much into it.. you're just a silly little girl...with silly little thoughts and feelings.." Ouch, right in the feels. Maybe he was right.. maybe you were just a silly little girl with a silly little crush.. NO! It wasn't! You loved him, to the moon and back. But his skull is too thick to understand or even realize it.. what an old fool.

"Really now?? If you wouldn't care about me, you'd leave me on the couch yesterday! But you didn't!!" Jesus, he was getting difficult again. As usual.....but your patience wore thin. All you wanted was to let him understand.. "Why can't you see that I care about you Logan?? What can I do to make you understand??!" He was taken aback by this side of you, as you were always the shy and non-talkative type. Always lurking in the shadows. But yeah...it was enough. Your patience was wearing thin as I said before, and i don't blame you.. he should man the fuck up.

"Don't you dare tell me if I care about anyone or not, this is not your concern!! End of discussion!!" Logan finally snapped, he never snapped at you like this, never in a million years, and all you two were talking about feelings. FEELINGS! yes you're right, Logan was never strong about it.. but god damn. You could see the regret as soon as he stopped snapping at you, but he was too proud to say anything else. And you did something you never thought you would do.... You left the abandoned smelting plant, you needed air, fresh air.

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Part 3?

[colibrie]

Genesis: Decompression

WE'RE BACK! Our (slightly belated) gift this holiday season is a new synthesis update! As always, credit for art and sanity goes to the amazingly talented @trilobitepunch. If you haven't subbed to her yet, go do it! If you have, feel free to scream your thoughts at us! (seriously, you should see the paragraphs I write about all the ways I love Trilos art, and it deserves so much conversation and analysis).

"I am afraid it's not much," Karai warned as she pushed open the door, shooting a smile over her shoulder as she beckoned them to follow her in.

The house was indeed small, consisting of a central room from which two doors extended from the back wall. The right wall was taken up by a fireplace, before which sat a small round table with two chairs, beneath which a threadbare rug covered the floor. The other wall held cabinets and a workbench, the scarred surface heavy with multiple neatly organized projects.

"As you can imagine, I don't often entertain guests," Karai continued, snagging a piece of flint before heading towards the fireplace. "But it's warm, dry, and most importantly, it's safe. There's nothing here for the empire to exploit, so they do not bother with this planet beyond the occasional half-hearted patrol."

"It's great, Master. Really." Leo answered, barely daring to blink as he looked around.

"Yeah. It's a lot like our house back home!" Mikey added, words fizzing with so much bubbly joy that some idiotic part of Leo's brain wondered for a second if his effervescent baby brother could float away with it. "All it needs is a mural or two. I could totally paint one for you if you'd like!"

"That would be lovely Michaelangelo, thank you," Karai nodded, lighting the fire with a swift and decisive strike. "Now, given what I saw of your shuttle, I am willing to go out on a limb and say you two have been living mostly off of ration bars. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Master."

The words tripped instinctually off his tongue before Leo could question their purpose, or validity. After all, it wasn't as if the title held all that much weight now that there wasn't an order left to uphold it. It wasn't like it had particularly special meaning to him either. He hadn't bothered calling Splinter by his title in years and had zero plans to do so any time soon.

Yet he honestly couldn't picture not saying the honorific when Karai turned her smile on him. Not when the warmth that buzzed like bees in his chest felt just like it did when he'd been smaller, coming to her with every secret and insecurity that had harried him.

"I thought so. Michelangelo, there is a root cellar outside, around the corner to the right. Please go and fetch me three potatoes, an onion, and some ceebak root. Leonardo, please fetch water, and some meat from the smokehouse in the back."

It was easier than breathing to comply. Mikey scrambled towards the cellar, and Leo all but floated towards his tasks, hands moving on autopilot while his thoughts skipped and twirled like stones across a pond. Time stretched like one of Mikey's canvases. He blinked, and suddenly he was at the table, staring at an empty bowl while the fire shot sparks up the chimney and into the night. His stomach was pleasantly full, the last hints of something rich, warm, and earthy lingering on his tongue. Across the table Mikey was chattering a mile a minute, hands weaving and dancing with enthusiasm as he regaled Karai with stories of their training escapades.

"Goodness," Karai chuckled, grey eyes glinting as she raised her mug and took a sip. "Dangling off a sheer drop to train one's reflexes is certainly a... unique approach to training."

"Right? But Leo swore up and down that that's what you made him do at the temple!"

"Oh?"

Leo shrugged loosely as the attention turned to him.

"Eh, it was close enough."

"I almost went splat!" Mikey protested, though the laugh he was suppressing slightly ruined the attempt at indignation.

"But you didn't, didja? Ergo, you learned something, so, you know, you’re welcome."

"Oh yeah, Leon? How about I tell her about that one time you tried to..."

"Do it and I'll tell her about how you-"

"Alright, alright. Settle down you two," Karai cut in, amused but firm as she watched them make faces at each other. "There will be a time to fill me in on accounts of your adventures, but it's getting late and it’s time to rest. Tomorrow I will clean out the storage room for your use, but tonight I can only offer cushions and blankets in front of the fire."

"Pretty much anything sounds better than the shuttle back bench at this point," Mikey agreed, a yawn breaking free as the youngest leaned back and stretched his arms over his head.

The sight caught at the muscles of Leo's jaw, and he had to fight hard against the urge to follow suit. Limbs that had been light suddenly felt sluggishly heavy, spine curling as his neck burned with the effort of holding up his head. His body cried for sleep, but his mind recoiled from the very notion, stubbornly forcing his lids to part with every heavy blink. He couldn't face another night shadowboxing with his insomnia, endless hours trapped watching the shadows creep that much nearer while his thoughts turned on him. Perhaps worse, he didn't think he could face more dreams filled with his twins’ persistent calls. His stomach flipped, threatening to cramp as he glanced towards the door, mentally rummaging for an excuse that would pass both Master Karai and Mikey. Maybe a final tweak to the shuttle camouflage? A quick perimeter check? Yeah, that could work. Even if this planet was as secure as Master Karai said, a little extra caution couldn't hurt.

"-cushions are in the back of the storage room. You might have to dig for them."

"On it!"

"Thank you, Michelangelo."

"I'll clean up, then do a last sweep. You guys hit the hay," Leo volunteered as Mikey scurried away, pushing himself up before swiftly gathering the bowls and plates.

The night air was brisk as he ducked through the doorway and headed towards the well. The sky above was awash in start light, diamond-encrusted obsidian that softened the edges of reality with gilded silver and shadow. The darkness held out its arms to him, an old and tiresomely familiar friend happy to walk new paths.

He'd have answered it's welcome, if not for the appearance of a hand at his elbow.

"Where are you going, Leonardo?"

"Uh...to wash the dishes and check the shuttle? Like I just said."

"Ah, then I shall accompany you."

"No, Master you've done more than enough for us. It will only take me a few minutes max, so you should head in and-"

"I know it has been a long time, but I have not lost the ability to tell when you're lying, Leonardo."

"Huh? I'm not."

"Or, when you are avoiding something," Karai continued, staring him down with such knowing eyes that he had to look away and fight the urge to squirm.

"It’s nothing, really. I'm probably just a little paranoid after spending so much time traveling. I'll settle down after I take a walk."

"A walk that will "accidentally" lose track of time and end only once the sun has risen?" Karai asked pointedly, one eyebrow rising as thought silently daring him to deny it.

Damn...he had forgotten about that. He’d often snuck out of creche as a child to wander the halls of the temple on nights when his insomnia became insurmountable. He’d eventually be returned to either Karai or Splinter by irritated temple guardians, sheepishly offering the excuse of “losing track of time” to account for his ventures. It wasn’t something he’d expected her to call back to after all this time. He needed to change tactics, quickly.

"Heh, you've still got it, Master," he nodded, tilting his smile to be just the right mixture of boyishly sheepish and disarmingly charming. "Okay, how about this? I'll wash the dishes and go for a quick spin around the perimeter. Fifteen minutes, max. If I'm not back in that time, you can send Mikey after me. Kid is better than a stopwatch and has got a sixth sense, I swear."

"Hmmm...alright. You may wash the dishes," Karai nodded after a moment, stepping back.

"Number one dishes washer, at your service!"

He tossed her a casual salute, then set about scrubbing away every lingering scrap of food while his mind furiously worked on new solutions to the presented problem. He really should have considered that Master wouldn't fall for his first excuse. This wasn't Splinter he was dealing with after all. Karai paid attention. She was a pro of reading between the lines, a master of finding loopholes. Almost as good as Leo himself.

He'd have to do better. A lot better, to stay ahead of her. Fortunately, the situation wasn't yet impossible. He could give her the plates, take the fifteen minutes head start to scout the area for good places to chill unseen. He'd let Mikey bring him back, then sneak back out after the others went to bed. He'd have to be careful and ensure that he was back before they woke up, but so long as he appeared ready and was able to perform, it shouldn’t be too difficult to pull off.

Yes. That was a much better plan. All he had to do was keep his head and play it cool. Easy.

"Okay, that should be it," he called over his shoulder, stacking up the wet dishes and utensils before scooping them up and turning to face Master Karai.

"Here, could you-"

"Leave them there to dry, so we can have our walk."

"Our... walk?"

"Yes," Karai nodded, deft hands plucking the plates from Leo's grasp, setting them aside before returning to loop around his arm, "there is a small path around the garden that is perfect for a stroll."

"Oh, you don't need to-"

"Needs can come in different forms, Leonardo. Much like opportunities. One should never pass them by."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. You'll understand in time. Come, let's go this way."

"I-wha-hey! Master c’mon. I know we just got here, but I'm not a kid! I can handle going on a walk by myself."

"Of course, you can," Karai agreed, nodding as she steered him steadily to the distant silhouette of a garden. "You, by your brother's accounts, are a skilled pilot and a good teacher. You know how to navigate the marketplace, manage resources, and strike shrewd bargains. You kept yourself and your brother safe while you searched for me. By all accounts, you've become quite the accomplished young man Leonardo. I'm very proud of you."

"O-oh...I... uh..." Leo stammered, tripping over his tongue as his companion pulled him onto a dirt path that seemed to follow the perimeter of the garden beds. Even under the veil of the night the heady scent of the turned earth, compost, and something delicate, faintly like vanilla, perfumed the air. Every now and then, stiff stalks would brush against his side and shoulder, leaves of velvet and silk sliding across his cheek and shoulder in gentle caressing sweeps.

"Oh, what's this? Cat got your tongue?" Karai teased, skillfully pulling him around an invisible bend. "That's not like you. If memory serves, you've always been good at finding words to fit every occasion."

"I am! I mean...I just didn't...so if you mean that, why are you coming with me?" Leo spluttered, the exhausted coils of his mind flickering and struggling to grab back the reigns of control that he had, somehow, lost again. Frustration flared, hot and bitter on the back of his tongue, but he tried to quickly swallowed it back down.

"Do I need a reason?" Karai asked.

"Everyone has a reason."

He blurted out the words before he could fully process them, and every cell in his body burned to take them back. For her part, Master Karai did not seem particularly upset by his outburst, or by his words. Her only initial response was a considering hum as she turned them down another near-invisible route.

"Well, were we to use your logic, then I believe I've already made my reasons clear. I am proud of my dear sweet Blue, and I wish to spend time with the man you've grown up to be. Is that disagreeable to you?"

"No! No, you're right. I've missed you too Master," Leo quickly agreed, pulling her a little closer to his side in an improvised hug as something strange and uncomfortable rumbled in his chest, expanding and stretching until even his skin felt wrong. "Things have been so insane, I guess I am still trying to get my head around all of it."

"And yet, you've successfully adapted," Karai asserted, fingers squeezing his bicep in turn as she guided him under some kind of structure covered in vines. "You took in the situation, analyzed the variables, then formatted and executed a plan to obtain help."

For a while they stood in silence, only the crunch of muffled sounds of nature and the soft rustle of their clothes to indicate their presence within the garden. The air seemed to hold its breath as the tension around them slowly built towards a crescendo, filaments stretching taunt, poised to snap.

"...I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Do any of that. I didn't analyze anything. I didn't plan anything. We weren't looking for help, because I didn't think there was even a minute chance that you were still alive. I just said we were because of Mikey. He trusts me and I couldn't..."

"Couldn't what?” Karai prompted him after giving Leo a few more moments of quiet to chew on his words.

"I couldn't...face admitting to him how badly I'd screwed this up," Leo bit out, the syllables sour in his mouth as he pulled his arm out of Karai's grip.

"This... What is "this"? What's happened, Leonardo? What's driven you two away from the home Yoshi built for you?"

"He goes by Splinter now, not Yoshi," Leo obfuscated, and somehow, he could feel the look of disapproval she gave him in reply.

"Leonardo."

"Well, he does! Kinda a weird choice as far as an inconspicuous name goes, but hey I'm not the name police."

"Fine. What happened that drove you out of Splinters home with no plan or backup?" Karai pressed, undeterred.

"He... they... he lied to me... to us. He's still lying!”

"They? Who is-"

"I mean," Leo plowed on, throwing his hands up as he turned away and started to pace, "what kind of “father” does that, huh?! "So sorry for being an awful person and a fraud, but I still get to dictate how you react to the biggest possible bombshell being dropped on your life." Worst. Betrayal. Ever. Score zero. No applause."

"Leonardo, slow down-"

"Did you know he was going to take the Holocron away from Mikey? Kids got more natural talent in his pinky finger than half of the jedi in the temple combined, and he made him feel like crap about it! Like there was something wrong with him and his dreams! That's why we had to hide his training! That's why we were on that bloody moon instead of at the marketplace! That's why this all happened!"

"Why what happened?! Please, slow down and-"

"Donnie and Raph!" Leo yelled, voice raising to be heard over the sudden blast of wind that seemed to come out of nowhere, the plants in the bed to his left trembling in obscurity under its might. The weird thing was that the air didn't seem to be moving. Weirder still, his voice kept rising.

"He told us they were dead, Master! Killed in the purge, just like the rest! And we believed him, right up until those same "dead" brothers showed up in black armor and tried to kill us!"

"Donatello and Raphael are alive?!"

"YES!"

Something smashed behind him, ceramic sherds tinkling a shattered harmony as they hit the ground. Wood overhead groaned and creaked as if straining under a great weight.

"Leonardo, please, calm-"

"Calm down? Oh yeah, totally! Raph tried to smash Mikey into a paste, and my twin put me through a literal wall, but sure! I'm totally calm! See?!"

He tried to pull in a deep breath, but for some reason his lungs forced it back out, fast and sharp pants hitching his shoulder higher and higher. He tried to pause, but words kept pouring out his mouth, a flash flood of poorly connected sentences and thoughts that refused to be ordered or contained.

"He was so angry at me! He kept hurting me! And then... then we connected and it... he... he hurts, Master. He was hurt and scared, and it was so dark and cold, and he was alone! He was all alone and I promised him he’d never be! Then he saved me, and I promised him I'd find him! I promised! I can’t break another one!"

"You must-"

"We barely escaped in one piece. We barely got home. And then, and then," Leo seethed, vocal cords aching as he whirled around and stalked back towards Karai, hands balled into shaking fists, "he scolded us, tried to punish us! When I shoved the truth in his face, he spun us some woe-is-me sob story about how Donnie and Raph "died" during a sewer tunnel collapse and I was injured to justify running away. And to put the crappy cherry on top, he had the guts to order me to forget about them! Forget about my brothers!"

"Leo-"

"It was a load of garbage, just in case you were wondering. A great way for him to keep pretending he hasn't been a selfish coward all these years."

Wood snapped somewhere overhead, but he plowed on, a helpless buoy in the torrent pulling him along.

"I was never hurt, Donnie and Raph never died, and he has never cared about any of us! He probably just left them behind back then to save his sorry hide from the purge and now he's going to sacrifice them again! Well, I'm not! I won't! So what if it was stupid to leave without a plan?! So what if I'm in over my head?! I can't leave them in the dark Master! I can't, I can't! I-"

"LEONARDO, BREATHE!"

Karai's hands landed on his chest with the strength of a mallet striking a gong, staggering him. Something familiar; warm, and strong, stemmed the flash flood in his mind, loosening the bands that held his lungs from fully expanding. Instinctively he did as he was told, sucking in a deep gulp of air.

"No, don't gasp. Meditative breathing. Breathe in for four, hold for six, and out for eight. Let your thoughts follow each breath, let them settle like sand in still water. Like this."

He did his best to follow her example, his heart slowly stepping down from its punishing gallop as her hands held him steady.

"Very good," she murmured, one hand sliding up to press solidly against his pulse point. "Very good Leonardo."

"Please, Master...I can't..."

"No one here is asking you to."

The assurance nearly took him out at the knees, pitching him further forward into her grasp.

"What I am going to ask is a series of questions, and I need you to answer them honestly. Is that something you feel up to?"

"Yes, Master."

"Alright. The first question is, can you still feel Donatello?"

"No," Leo shook his head, "we only connected for a minute last time, and nothing since."

"Okay. During your travels, have you or Michelangelo encountered any other individuals in black armor? Even at a distance, or in passing?"

"No Master."

Her hands relaxed a little as she let out a sigh of relief.

"Very good. Now, the most important question. When was the last time you slept? And I mean, I truly slept, a full eight hours with no interruptions?"

He tried to look away, but her hand stopped him, firm pressure against his jaw turning him back to face her.

"Honesty, Leonardo. Please. How long?"

"I don't know...before we left home?"

"Oh, Blue."

"I tried! I swear I did, but I couldn't stop thinking. I couldn't close my eyes, because he's there, begging me to help them."

"It's no wonder... come."

Her tone permitted no argument, nor did her grip as it shifted once more to his arm. All Leo could do was put one foot in front of the other as Master Karai towed him away from the garden and back towards the warm, welcoming light of her home. Lights that steadily turned fuzzy around the edges, blending into messy, hazy halos as the adrenaline in his veins slowly dwindled, replaced by all too familiar numbness. He blinked, and suddenly they were inside, a familiar green blur bouncing towards them.

"Hey! Where'd you guys go? Is he okay?!"

"Ah, you've laid out the cushions. Wonderful job Michelangelo. Would you mind dashing out to the well and bringing in the dishes for me?"

"But Leo-"

"He'll be alright," Karai assured, fingers prodding him to lift his arms enough for her to slide off his jacket. "All he needs is proper rest. I'll take care of him; you see to those dishes for me."

"Yes ma'am."

"Thank you."

Leo watched blankly as Mikey trotted to the door. His baby brother hesitated, hand on the latch as he turned to look back at Leo with questioning eyes. It took a long moment to remember how to answer, to signal the muscles in his neck to move his head up and down in a wooden nod.

It probably wasn't the most convincing performance he'd ever given, but it seemed to give Mikey the confidence he needed to push open the door and slip out into the night.

"Come here, Blue."

He let Karai pull him to the hearth, half a grumble, half a whine stuck in his throat as he was pushed down onto something soft.

"It's not gonna help," he mumbled, allowing his heavy body to follow the call of gravity. "Stupid insomnia brain says no."

"And I say yes," Karai replied patiently, wedging a pillow underneath his head before pulling a heavily mended blanket up around his shoulders.

"But Dee… and Raphie..."

"We'll help them, I promise. But they'd want you to take care of yourself along the way. For now, try to relax."

Her hand swept over his face, cutting off his half-heartedly grumbled response before settling over his eyes. The same power that had helped him earlier returned, far warmer than any flame as it wrapped around his mind like a weighted blanket. His thoughts unraveled under its touch, dreams dissolving like fog under the radiance of the sun.

"Sleep."

_______________________

"One set of dishes, acquired!" Mikey called as he approached the door, barely restraining the urge to indulge in a few flips of joy.

Then again, why should he contain his razzmatazz? They'd done it, after all, he and Leo. They'd found Karai, a real Jedi master! Someone willing to teach them how to be a Jedi too! It was like his birthday and every other holiday all at once. Like finding out wishing stars were real and miracles bloomed like wildflowers! Surely that deserved at least a little celebration, right?

He had to bite his lip to stop the full strength of his smile from splitting his cheeks, giggling quietly as he indulged himself with a simple aerial, pushing the door open with his foot. Was it possible for life to be better than this?

"Where do these-"

"Quietly, please Michelangelo," Karai replied, her voice hushed. "You can just leave them on the table for now. I'll put them away later."

"You sure? I can totally...Whoa!"

"Shhhhhh," Karai shushed, one finger raising to her lips as Mikey's mouth fell open in shock.

Karai knelt between the cushions he'd placed at the hearth, outer robes discarded in a puddle off to one side. On her other side was Leo, his insomniac brother, fast asleep. No dreams twitched behind his eyes or pulled half intelligible mumbles past his lips. In fact, his big brother’s face was blank, downright peaceful.

Who needed wishes and miracles? They had Master Karai!

"How did you do that, teach me right now." Mikey demanded, dropping his voice to a matching whisper as he ditched the plates on the table.

"Just a simple suggestion," Karai chuckled, her thumb gently feathering across Leo's temple when he shifted to lay more fully on his side. "I’m merely helping his mind reach a state where it can enter and stay asleep naturally. However, the effectiveness of this skill is based on the mental fortitude of the person in question. Stronger minds are harder to sway, and thus it is not a technique you should become overly reliant on."

"Oh, I know that one! It’s called Jedi mind trick! Master Kenobi talked about using it!"

"I see you've been studying the holocron," Karai noted, eye crinkling at the corners as she beckoned him over to the empty cushion.

"You bet!" Mikey affirmed, flopping down and then rolling over to lie on his stomach and look up at her. "Leo started me on Master Fisto for basics, but I like Masters Kenobi, Skywalker, and Windu. I didn’t like Master Mundi as much; he was cold. I tried Master Yoda, but I couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying."

"Many of us struggled to understand him if it's any consolation," Karai nodded, grey eyes staring into space as Mikey got comfortable. "Grand Master Yoda enjoyed his riddles, almost as much as he enjoyed watching people scramble their brains trying to work them out. But they always had a purpose in the end, a lesson, even if it wasn't apparent. You just had to trust and keep your mind open."

"Just like how we found you," Mikey beamed, words split by a huge yawn.

"Much like that," Karai agreed, her free hand moving to carefully pull off Mikey's mask. She set the orange fabric by his pillow before reaching over and pulling up his blanket. "The most important thing you must always remember Michelangelo, is that the Force is in all things, and all things are directed by its will. This is the core principle of the Jedi code, and so long as we have it, none of us are ever lost."

"I won't forget, I promise," Mikey promised, jaw cracking on another yawn as he snuggled deeper into his bedding.

"Good. Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow, we will start your training."

[unp0pularl0nerkid]

In Another Dimensions Part 1.

Link to Context

Thanks for reading the first chapter! Hope you like it and i apologize if this breaks anyone heart just a little bit

FLASHBACK: “Hey Suguru, let’s do this quiz. It shows us what we would be in another life” Satouru said, pushing the magazine over Sugurus phone. “Why? We only have this one life” Suguru spoke, eyes glazing over as if he was thinking about something else. “Pleaseeee” Satoru whined moving his face closer to Suguru. “Fine” Suguru said, pushing him away. After answering a bunch of questions (stupid ones at that). “Hey look at that, we’re both wolves.” Satoru said. “You’re more like a golden retriever, than a wolf.” Suguru laughed. And maybe Im more like a sheep in wolves clothing, he thought. “I think wed be more like fish personally, swimming together with our lives intertwined. Like Yin and Yang, we balance the world” Satoru exclaimed. “Yea..maybe” Suguru said softly. END OF FLASHBACK

The Beginning

“Who’s got you smiling at your phone like that sugu? Are you cheating on me” Satoru teased, feigning a frown. “Be for real, Satoru.” Suguru said rolling his eyes. “Where are we even going anyway?” He sighed. “To the best kikufuku spot ever!” Satoru exclaimed. “They have over a thousand flavors, at least that what I heard” He smiled. “I don’t even like sweets” Suguru groaned. Recently, Satoru noticed that Suguru had been more to himself. I mean, yeah he was always a secluded guy…but this felt like he was purposely pushing himself away. Of course, He would never mention it, because it was an unspoken rule that Satoru and Suguru never talked about their feelings. They both had a high sense of what some would call pride. Maybe they believed that they were both extremely smart and wealthy so maybe their problems could be swept under the rug. So instead of confronting him, Satoru went with distracting him.

The person that Suguru had been texting was you. You’d sent him a TikTok about some wall challenge that Americans feigned over, he thought it was so dumb but you’d been laughing your ass off so he would never say. Your sugurus half sister, you’d seeked him out over a year ago and after being half ignored and half amused. He decided to give you a chance. Ever since then, you would FaceTime and text all the time. Suguru liked having a sibling that looked up to him, someone who had never met him in real life and never knew how lonely he could get. It was almost like a fresh start whenever he spoke to you until he is once again reminded of his reality.

Approximately two weeks later, it had been all over the news of a terrible accident, where a truck hit a walking pedestrian and ultimately killed him. Satoru had seen it when he was walking back from the convent store with some new Japanese candy for him and suguru to try (even if he knew they both wouldn’t like it), when he got closer….he realized that the person who’d been hit looked so familiar. His body acting before his mind, he ran over, and immediately dropped the bag of candy. “Suguru?!” He yelled. “No…nononono..” He whispered. But suguru was already gone. Paramedics dragged him away and that was the last of it. He’d called every hospital and the one that finally gave him an answer told him that suguru was gone and was given clear instructions to not have a funeral. Satoru slumped back to his apartment and as soon as he walked in he noticed a note on the table. One with the handwriting of an oh so familiar friend, his best friend. He immediantly sat and opened it, reading it with tears falling. It’s like reality had struck him, and hard. Suguru had planned all of this out, he killed himself on purpose. And for once, satoru was speechless.

The note: Satoru, Im sorry that this is the only way I could gain the courage to tell you the truth. Sometimes there’s an emptiness within that not even you can fix. It was never your fault, you loved me unconditionally and for that I thank you. Every day that we’ve spent together since hgihschool has been one that will forever be cherished, so don’t ever stop cherishing this world because of me. Im also leaving you with the contact information of my sister, (your name). Well, technically half-sister but you can ask her the details. If the letter that I left to her is true, then she will attend Jujutsu College right down the road from here, I gave her a scholarship. I want you to do two things for me? If its not to selfish to ask that is. I know sometimes I was hard to put up with, even though you stuck with me. Can you help her out? Even if it’s just watching over her, she might say she’s okay, but just like you she hides these feelings. Please find comfort in eachother, my two favorite people meeting, I just hate its under these circumstances. Lastly, there’s a gift, keep it or let it go but its yours. May we meet again in another life Satoru. -Suguru

And 8,550 km away (In Europe), you had just received the mail, seeing a letter from Suguru. That’s kind of weird we always text, but I guess he was trying to be nostalgic, you thought laughing. Once you got inside and made some tea you finally sat down ready to read it. In the end, tears were uncontrollably falling down your face. “No..nonono. I didn’t even get to meet you in person! I didn’t get to tell you what a fraud I was, I never told you how much I loved you!” You screamed, hyperventilating. I can’t breathe. You thought. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. Your mind screamed at you. So you just laid on the carpet eyes closing as the tears continued to stream. Somehow you had drifted into a deep sleep, trying to sort out how you were going to survive this chaos.

The note: Sister, Words can’t explain how disappointed you probably will be after this. I had faked how I felt this whole time because I wanted to be the older brother that you looked up to, I didn’t want you to know just how lonely I was. Just how…depressed, I was. Im sorry. This was bound to happen eventually. Remember that day, you asked me if we were together in another dimension. What I would have done if I had grown up with you, and I laughed and said there’s no point in thinking about it. You’ve always made me happy and I have no doubt that that’s exactly how you would’ve made me feel. You and Satoru helped coat the emptiness in my heart with a blanket. It’s like you dressed my wounds from the inside out. Satoru is the bestfriend I told you about, and I want yall to meet. There’s a scholarship below for your full tuition at college, but if I could be selfish and request that you go to Jujutsu College, I am. When you get there, Satoru will be able to help you out, at least he’ll try. He’s annoying but he has a caring heart and he’s a sweet freak, which I know is perfect for you. You may bump heads because his walls are taller than the both of us combined, but I hope you both give each other the comfort you need. No, I didn’t want a funeral, I only wanted to send you this letter to show you how I felt. Here’s a gift, just to remind you of me. Im sorry, that I wasn’t the brother you wished for. But I love you. -Suguru

Sorry for the short chapter..I figured it would be a lot to take in. Don’t hate me yet!

Some Aesthetics: ——>

[askthelightsides]

I’m not too sure how much you know about the meaning/ language of flowers, but flowers are very important to me (i have a full tattoo sleeve on my arm of different bugs and flowers) so I thought give the sides a flower each… ( i do apologies for how long this is) 

Janus- Janus’ flower was actually the first one that came to me, a Red Carnation: they mean heart healing, self love, protection and passion they are actually one of the most overlooked flowers as a lot of people dismisses them on face value, but i felt that the meaning once you learn about the flower is actually very fitting. Janus you try to protect Thomas in a way that might get dismissed at first but you persist and teach him that sometimes self love is more important.

Patton- for Patton I’m actually gonna give him one of the flowers i have tattooed (it also means a lot to me personally), a Daisy specifically a yellow daisy, as they represent friendship , joy and cheerfulness, they also have a lot of links with childhood as in the Victorian era gifting someone a bouquet of them would send the message that they recover should reconnect with their inner child.

Virgil- i actually stumbled upon Virgil’s for a different thing i was researching however it seemed to fit perfectly. Begonias, while they start as a darker purple plant they do blossom into a beautiful flower. They often were used to symbolise caution and used as a warning however they also represent a blend of the heart and the mind, they may not be as flamboyant as their counterparts but they do carry a symbolic weight. How people view them has changed overtime, much like how we accept parts of ourselves we didn’t accept to begin with.

Logan- for Logan i didn’t purposely look for a blue flower but the blue lotus (Nymphaea caerulea) fits him rather well. It has been significant in works of art among Hindus,Sikhs,Jains and Buddhists as well as Ancient Egypt. It represents radiant intelligence and enlightenment, spiritually it enhances your intuition and inner visions. Blue is also the rarest colour in nature…the blue lotus is also associated with the golden ration (also known as Phi), it is mathematically perfect.

Remus- I actually find Remus’ flower particularly interesting, Raffesia Arnoldii also know as the corpse flower, the name feel as if it speaks for its self as the flower gives of a rather strong smell of a corpse. This plant also doesn’t use the energy from the sun to produce food, it creates its own so it truly is one of a kind. It attracts flies to produce food but also to contribute to pollination so while its not perhaps the most conventionally beautiful flower it does contribute more then people think. 

Roman- Now Roman’s was actually the hardest for me to pinpoint as i could present a whole bouquet of flowers that fit him however I think Orchids are possibly the best fit. The represent love, beauty, and creativity, in some cultures they represent strength and the ability to endure some of the hardest battles. Spiritually it represent the courage to be different, to give one extra strength, they are also linked to being in touch with your femininity as well as being linked to ADHD. 

[ @virgil-protection-squad 💜]

J: I certainly make myself difficult to overlook, but yes sometimes my contributions can be swept under the rug just because I say one or two little things that not everyone likes. I quite like this flower, when I see it I imagine it tucked into the lapel of a tuxedo. It’s giving James Bond and I’m not mad about it.

P: OH MY GOODNESS!! Now I don’t talk about it too much, but daisies and sunflowers are my favorite flowers, and you just went and picked me out one that’s almost like both of them combined! Well now I’m gonna have to get some for my room! I know have a vase somewhere that Thomas made in art class when he was 8 at summer camp.

V: That’s….that’s kinda cool actually? I sorta like that they look like different plants depending on when you catch them. And they can represent caution, right? If you give them to someone?

L: Virgil? Do you study flower symbolism?

V: What?! No

L; Then how did you-

v I don’t know dude I heard it on a podcast or something, don’t worry about it.

L: Oh these are extraordinary, aren’t they? This is why I’ll never understand the need to run away into fantasy worlds, what’s the point when they natural world around us holds such magic on its own? …I mean unless it’s too escape political climates, then I suppose the imagination is better. Thank you for the flowers. I’ve never seen these before and I’m so grateful that I have now.

Re: HOLY SH**!! So you’re telling me this thing is huge, weird shaped, looks like it should be on the back of a Pokémon, AND smells like dead people?!? Here I thought I wasn’t into flowers! I need like 38 of these for my room immeditaly.

J: …thank you for this

Ro: Wow…I assumed you’d pick roses, and I do love roses! They’re very romantic! But these…I just always think of orchids as being so fancy, they’re like the swans of flowers. Thank you, it’s an honor.

[dinsbeskar]

do you think that before the fall of Numenor Sauron dressed up as Halbrand again and went to the forge he worked at to tell them "you better get outta here, trust me"

Naaaaaaaaaah I can't think about it!!!!

Not sauron getting sentimental and going back to the forge, finding the blacksmith who gave him a chance, and putting him and his family on a boat.

Ummmmm your brain???

Whenever I tackle the fall of numenor (probably when s3/4 comes out, let's be fair, so it's a way off) i will remember this and link you (if you drop your username I'll credit you 💜)

Oh dear, never mind, I wrote it. I'm tagging sauron x reader bc it fits into my series, but reader is only mentioned like once lmfao sorry.

Putting on Halbrand again is a strange feeling after having walked the streets of Númenor as himself. The people knew him as a dark wizard, would bow their heads and scurry out of his path whenever he deigned to leave the palace, so to walk among them as a ragged commoner once more was strangely refreshing.

Too bad the isle was on its countdown to destruction.

He'd actually grown to enjoy his time here, corrupting an entire people's very souls, bar the few Faithful. They would prove useful, as they prepare their ships today to leave for Middle Earth, their attempts at subterfuge no match for his all-seeing gaze.

The streets wound and meandered down the hill toward the sea, the guild district apparent from the scent of smoke and clanging of hammers. It took him only a quick glance inside the shop to know he was in the right place. The smith was older, noticeably so, and his ward had grown from a boy into a strapping young man, but he recognised them instantly.

"Show me your work, and I'll think about it."

Those words had changed everything for him once upon a time. Aulë’s smith had wanted nothing more than to craft beautiful things in that tiny forge, left alone to do his penance. Morgoth's shadow scoffed at the idea, now his plans were near fruition, but a tiny part of him wanted to save the beauty of the craft he'd seen in that tiny family-owned shop.

"Well, don't linger in the doorway, lad, come in, what can we do for you?" The smith's gruff voice rang out like a hammer on steel, jerking Sauron back to the present.

"Greetings, good sir, I don't suppose you remember me-"

"Nonsense! Halbrand, wasn't it? I thought you went across the sea? Shame that, you were one of the best apprentices I ever had, even if it were only for a few days."

Sauron grins at the indignant look on his apprentice's face.

"Only one of the best? I suppose I'll have to take that." Look at him, humble. It was possible.

"Well, the lad here gives you a run for your money, and if you'd stayed longer...? You haven't aged a day." The smith trails off as Sauron steps closer, the light from the furnace bouncing off his rugged face.

"Probably something in the water." He shrugs; bandying about pleasantries was not why he'd come all this way.

"Listen, I've heard there are boats leaving the island soon," he raises his eyebrows, "and it might not be a bad idea to get on one."

They look at each other, take a beat, then scoff, laughing at the idea of leaving paradise.

"Why would we want to do that, eh, lad? Me whole life is here, I'm an old man, I'm goin' nowhere." The old smith replies.

"Call it... a gut feeling, that Númenor is in danger. That perhaps the faithful are the rats leaving a sinking ship?"

Why is he doing this? In the back of his mind, he has to wonder what his true purpose is here. Certainly, the craftsmanship is superb, it would be a terrible shame to see it sink beneath the waves. Definitely nothing deeper than that, definitely not the vaguest notion of doing a man a good turn when he'd offered him the same, so very long ago.

The old smith seems unconvinced, exchanges a few more pleasantries, but the young man at his side seems more pliable.

"Good to see you again, Halbrand. If you don't get on one of them ships, come back and I'll see if I can throw some work your way." The smith laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

Sauron winces imperceptibly, the feeling of flesh on flesh so casually still a strange notion, even after all this time.

He nods and departs, waiting for the apprentice to run after him. He does so, predictably, and Sauron fixes his best surprised expression before turning around to greet him.

"What you said, about the boats? What do you know?" The lad asks, almost muttering to stay out of bounds of any prying ears.

"Just that they're leaving tonight and tomorrow, and that you should get on one." He gives him a knowing look, trying to impress upon him that he can't say what will happen, but that something will and it will be cataclysmic.

"I can't convince him to go, but folks have been talking for a while now, what with that new temple on high and the wizard in the palace, things are..."

"Precarious." Sauron finishes his sentence for him, nodding knowingly.

He had been responsible for a good many changes under Ar-Pharazôn's rule, the temple for Morgoth probably his crowning achievement. Of course it had set some of the common folk on edge, but that was a small price to pay for the hearts of a nation.

"I'll try and convince him." The lad finally replies, worry etched on his smoke-blackened face.

"Do. And don't fail."

Sauron leaves then, giving only a second glance to the young man still watching after him. He had tried. One good deed for another, after all. You'd be proud of him, he'd make sure of it.

Oh no. He stops in his tracks, infuriated at the mere thought of you. So that's what has him feeling sentimental.

He curses your name and makes his way back to the palace, taking in the sights of Númenor one more time. It would be any day now.

[mintytealfox]

FOX NORTON AND BUNNY ALICE?!?

My mind immediately went to Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde,,, but also Bnnuy Alice… cutie

-WHEEEEZZZZZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- I watched some scenes from that movie recently and NOW I AM HOLLERING BAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA

Like the giant popsicle scene with Norton and then Benny as the Fennec Fox PFFF AND THEN: Alice: "NORTON CAMPBELL YOU ARE UNDER ARREST" Norton: "what? for hurting your feeewlings~" Alice: "TAX EVASION, but I can drop all this if you help me out~" -plays recording of him saying how much he makes in a year- Norton: 😨😨😨😨 Benny: "she hustled you BAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

AND

Alice: "what did you do to make Mr. Big so mad at you??" Norton: "I may have sold him a very expensive wool rug...made from the fur of a skunk.....'s butt"

(who would be mr big? would it be hell ember? cause I can see his puppets as the polar bears here LOL //and he would be small with emma cause that entire gag is hilarious to me LOL) --- ooooh and then the angst stuff with the muzzling of kid norton ;; and the scene: Alice: "the predators may be reverting to their primitive savage ways, its in their DNA" -leaves podium to talk to Norton- Norton: "excuse me? reverting to their 'primitive savage ways'? are you kidding me??" Alice: "what? its a fact of the case, Its not like a bunny can go savage" Norton: "but a fox could??" Alice: "huh? you aren't like them" Norton: "OH so there is a THEM now??" Alice: "you know what I mean, you're not that sort of predator" Norton: "?? the kind of predator that makes you carry around fox repellant?? Don't think I didn't notice that little item when we first met! Are you afraid I am going to SAVAGE" -purposely tries to scare her- -Alice unconsciously reaching for the repellant- Norton: ".......that's what I thought.."

--- I am officially OBSESSED WITH THIS AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

[lupine-trees]

learn me, love me, let me know

[something, something, learning as a love language. dedicated to the mundane bits of falling. a drabble in three parts.]

word count: ~1,550, rating: t

I.

The routine dictates: Thursdays are for new recipes and bad movies.

Draco stood at the stove, hovering over a saucepan. I want to try to make something for the gnocchi, he’d said, like an absolute fool.

He’d gone rogue, recipe-less, and this was what he got for it.

“Something’s not right,” he called to Harry, who was poking at a puzzle spread across the living room coffee table. “Here,” he said, scooping up a spoonful and carrying it over, a careful hand cupped underneath. He lifted the spoon to Harry’s lips.

Harry tasted, nodded, thoughtful, knees tucked under him on the rug. “Salt.”

Draco huffed. “I added salt.”

Harry grinned up at him. “More salt.”

Draco went back to the kitchen, and Harry, with sudden realization, rose and followed behind him.

“Wait— here,” he called, reaching up to the potted plant on the windowsill and plucking a few sprigs of chive, pulling a pinch of parsley. He made quick work of them on the cutting board while Draco stirred at the sauce, sprinkled in more salt.

“Alright.” Harry passed the board to Draco, who slid the herbs into the pan.

“It’s still—”

Harry reached over him to one of the myriad jars on the shelf, poured just a bit of the powder over the mixture.

“Cornstarch,” he said, a smile easy on his lips. “It’ll thicken. Give it a minute.”

And sure enough.

Draco took a spoonful, warm and fragrant, tasted it, and nearly moaned. Cleared his throat.

“So?” Harry said, leaned back against the countertop.

“Delicious, of course. You’re unbelievable.” The annoyance was put-upon, a convenient cover for an inconvenient truth.

“I think you mean, ‘Thanks, Harry, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’”

“I assure you, I do not,” he murmured, small grin sharp, crowding into Harry’s space, pressing him back against the counter, one hand splayed over his hip.

“Go on, try it,” he said, placing the spoon again at Harry’s lips.

Harry did, and he had no such qualms about moaning.

II.

This part was definitely not routine.

Draco’s flat— once Harry was finally permitted to visit— was, somehow, smaller even than Harry’s own, and more bafflingly, he had crammed a piano into it anyway.

“Are you even allowed to have this here? Surely it’s too heavy. There’s gotta be, I dunno, building codes or something.”

Draco gave him a belabored glance. “That’s what magic is for, Potter.” He gave the piano a gentle shove, and it slid. “Featherweight charm.”

“Oh,” Harry answered, carefully pulling the piano back into its place. “Y’know, I always wanted to learn to play one of these.” He plunked a finger down on a key, trailed a few notes.

“Did you?”

“Mhm. They have one at the Burrow, an old upright heirloom. I could play Jingle Bells, but, well. Doesn’t really count, does it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Here.” Draco lifted the bench seat, pulling out sheets of music, settling them on the stand. “Sit, sit.”

Harry sat. Draco slid in beside him. “Put your fingers here,” he said, placing him at rest on the keys.

So, it went like this: The afternoon was long, bleeding into evening, the music clunky. Harry definitely played Jingle Bells upward of twenty times. Draco might’ve taken the opportunity to lean cozily on his shoulder, to place his hands atop Harry’s for teaching purposes.

“Your neighbors are going to hate you,” Harry murmured, softened by the bottle of wine they’d kipped into about an hour in.

Draco laughed. “You’re unbelievable.” He gave a tug at his magic, and the walls lit up with the delicate web of it. “Silencing charms. Wizards. Magic school. Ringing any bells?”

“Oh,” Harry breathed, eyes trailing the soft golds, the cool blues of the trace magic patterned over the wallpaper.

“Play again,” Draco said, bustling him, their shoulders flush.

Harry let out a sound of protest, his cheeks a pleasant, dusky pink. “I can’t. You play.”

“Alright. You pitiful thing.”

And he did, play, and it was lovely.

But anyway, it wasn’t about the music, really, was it?

III.

The routine didn’t really have a say in the weather, but if it did, it would typically be indifferent to rain.

Unfortunately, the tire had gone out on the Corolla, which meant they were left like so: stranded road-side, with the jack and the spare, but a bit tragically, with none of the requisite experience or education necessary to make use of them.

All this and the rain, which had picked up from a steady patter and was dropping buckets rather insistently.

Harry was holding his best umbrella charm— best being the operative description. The raindrops were sneaking through in patches to where Draco’d laid out the spare blanket from the backseat. He was flat on his back, slid under the car, trying to position the jack, to make it lift, to do something.

The ground, though, was hard and cold and wet. The jack slipped again, dropping the car the few inches it had risen, and Draco shrank back, startled, and swore.

He clambered inelegantly from beneath the car, abandoning the rear passenger tire, the nail jammed into it, flat flat flat.

“Alright?” Harry called over the downpour, offering him a hand up.

Draco accepted, then dusted at his dampened trousers. “It’s no good. I’ve got no bloody clue. The cursed thing won’t stay put, and I—” He felt the frustration crawling up his neck, and left the sentence unfinished, tossing his hands in the air.

“We’ll figure it out,” Harry assured.

“Oh, we’ll figure it out. Brilliant. My favorite plan, the kind that doesn’t actually even exist.”

“We can apparate into town, then come back—”

“I’m not leaving the Corolla,” he said, stubbornly, knowing it was stubborn as he said it, unreasonable.

Harry’s voice was raised, shouting over the torrent of the rain, which his spellwork was doing little to deflect. “Draco, I get it, but the car will be fine. We need to—”

“I know the car will be fine,” Draco interrupted, a hiss, “because I’m not leaving it.” He stalked back to the driver’s side door, pulled it open, hard on the hinges. “And your umbrella charm’s shit,” he flung over his shoulder, before climbing inside and slamming the door shut.

The regret was almost immediate, mingling with anxious irritation and the rain drops sliding cold down his spine, plopping from his hair and onto his nose. The rain was louder, too, inside, pinging off the roof and the windshield. Draco fretted at Harry, standing out there still, nudging at the tire, undoubtedly soaked to the bone.

The minutes stretched, and the tension wilted. Draco folded into the steering wheel, knocking his forehead lightly against it. Just as he found the resolve to go back out, to make it right, to try again, the passenger door opened, and Harry dropped into his seat. His curls were plastered to his forehead, and his glasses fogged in the sudden heat of the car.

“Alright,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “It’s my fault. The car. This whole ridiculous idea.”

He reached for Harry’s glasses and wiped them clear as he could (rain-damp shirt given) before returning them to the bridge of his nose.

“And I’m sorry. For snapping. It’s not fair.”

Harry reached for his hand. “Thanks. But I like the car. And I like the idea. And I… like you. So.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“Stop that, now. Try the car.”

“What?”

“Drive it. Just a few metres. To try something.”

“Alright.”

And the car moved, and nothing horrible happened, and really, you couldn’t even tell there was a flat. They stopped, hazard lights still blinking.

“You changed it?”

Harry laughed, low. “Not exactly. Fortunately, though, my levitation charms are less shit than my umbrella ones.”

“You’re… levitating the car?”

“Sure. I mean, we need to get to an auto shop, because I don’t know how long it’ll hold, but I think we’re only about 12 kilometres—”

Draco practically leapt across the console, the need to kiss Harry an absolute.

“Mmph!” Harry muffled against his lips, startled, but he had no further protests. The kiss was clinging, hands all wrapped in hair and around one another, damp and desperate and delighted. They pulled apart, breath heavy, and Draco laughed.

“You’re brilliant. You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you. I love you. I— oh.” Draco stopped short, a blush creeping sudden up his neck.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, and smiled at him, and Draco wanted to sink into his seat.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he murmured, slowly, careful.

“It’s alright,” Harry said. “I did.”

“What?”

“I meant it. Before. I love the car. And I love the idea.” He reached for Draco’s hands again, holding him steady, the way he did.

“And I love you.” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Mostly that one,” he said, dimple flashing, devastating.

Draco’s heart pattered with the rain, and he leaned forward, the grin on his lips barely contained.

“You’re completely absurd,” he said, all fondness and irrepressible warmth.

“And you love me,” Harry whispered.

“A madman.”

“And you love me.”

“Absolutely shit at umbrella charms.”

“And?” Harry said, hopeful and plain, unexpectant.

Draco closed the little distance left between them. “And I love you.”

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 7

First / Previous / Next

As Gord approached the social club he stopped and peered at the sign above the door. Shaking his head and smiling, he pushed open the door and stepped in, with Fen and Ma-ren right behind.

"Club's closed, human." The bouncer was fully awake now.

"Name's Gord. Fen and Ma-ren here said that Tam'itarr wanted to meet me."

"Oh, you're Gord?" The bouncer looked Gord up and down. "Don't see how you got one over on little Tam, but fine. Fen and Ma-ren will show you the way." He stood to his full height and flipped the flap of his jacket open, revealing a wicked curved knife. "Be nice, get me?"

Gord raised an eyebrow. "I'm always nice, friend, but I'll take heed your recommendation." He looked back at Fen and Ma-ren. "Lead the way."

As Fen and Ma-ren led Gord to the back his head was on a swivel, taking in everything. There were more people here now than earlier, and nobody hid their curiosity at the new human walking by. News about Tam's failed shakedown had reached just about everyone here and they all wanted to see who they were dealing with.

Tam'itarr was still at his booth, though Tam was gone and there were two guards to the side now who Ma-ren and Fen didn't know. Tam'itarr stood and his mouthparts grinned. "This must be Gord. I am incredibly pleased to meet you." He looked over at Fen and Ma-ren. "I am also pleased that you took care of my request so quickly. I do not forget my friends." He gestured at the booth. "Please, sit! I'll have some refreshments brought. Have you eaten? I can have food sent over if you'd like."

Gord sat, and slid down making room for Fen and Ma-ren. "No thank you, I'm not hungry."

Fen was hungry, but decided that taking Tam'itarr's hospitality twice in one day was too much. Ma-ren also politely declined a meal. The same Tylan bartender from before did bring out a pot of tea and four cups.

Gord took a cup and savored the sip. "It's been forever since I've had a good chamomile. Thank you, Tam'itarr."

"The pleasure is all mine Gord."

Gord sat back. "Now then, Fen and Ma-ren said you had some questions for me? If it's about your son, I have to say that if he had tried for less than one hundred stars, I would have paid up. It was just too much to be hitting up human refugees for straight off the ship. Even if I thought it was a fair amount to pay to smooth my entry, I didn't have that kind of cash."

Tam'itarr held up a hand to halt the conversation. "Say no more about that Gord, I've already spoken to my son about it. You know how it is. Youth is full of vigor and excitement and trying to prove themselves. I have informed him that he shall shake down no more humans who come aboard my station."

Gord raised his eyebrow at 'my station' but said nothing.

"Now then, my friends state that soon after you arrived, you went right for the old human ship Spyglass, and spent more than a day aboard her with Fen and Ma-ren. May I ask what were you doing on the old wreck?" Tam'itarr sat back, watching Gord carefully.

Fen glanced at Ma-ren. Calling Spyglass a wreck simply had to be on purpose to try and get a rise out of Gord. He's never called it that around them.

Gord took another sip of tea. "I was interested in the old Starjumper. There are hardly any left, and I was curious about what condition it was in. Fen and Ma-ren showed me that most of... it's reactors were gone and there were only two left in poor condition. I did manage to cobble a mostly working one out of what was around, but it was really only for lights and heat. Without reactors Spyglass will never move again."

Tam'itarr tried to look disinterested, but Ma-ren noticed his mouthparts twitch. "Oh? I did not know that Spyglass moving under it's own power again was even a possibility. As far as I know, it barely survived the trip here, and has been still ever since. I know it's been a fixture of the docks before I was even born."

Gord shrugged. "Starjumpers are rugged old ships. They're designed to last. There's no reason that... it-" Tam'itarr didn't notice the pause when Gord called Spyglass it, but Fen did "-won't move again if we can install some reactors. It was originally outfitted with six, but only two remain, and of those two only one was really in any state to operate.

Despite himself, Tam'itarr blinked. "Six? So many. Why would a ship need such power."

Gord put his cup down and leaned forward. "Human ships are always overpowered Tam'itarr, your people should know that. Most Starjumpers had between four and eight reactors. It would depend on the needs and history. Spyglass is on the high side of average, that's all." He looked to the side dramatically, making a play of searching for people listening in. "You know Tam'itarr. She can be fixed. Imagine what you could do with a human Starjumper at your call. I remember the war. Ask your parent's parents about Starjumpers. Ask the Xenni."

Tam'itarr leaned in, meeting Gord's stare. "I'm grasping what you're handing out, Gord. I also see what you're playing at." Tam'itarr's mouthparts grinned. "I'm not insulted. On the contrary, I'm pleased you came to me with this plan. What would you need - theoretically - if you wanted to get Spyglass up and running."

Gord sat back and took a sip of tea. "Ideally, I'd need 4 human reactors." Gord held up his hand as soon as he saw Tam'itarr frown. "I know that's not happening, don't worry. I need another reactor - of almost any type - and I need about 10 kilotons of universal printing mass." Gord glanced at Ma-ren. "Actually, a K'laxi reactor would be ideal. They operate similarly to ours and I know for a fact they can be run at a higher than rated power. Once I have the additional reactor, I can use that, plus the one I repaired and the printable mass to repair the other human reactor, and build three more. It'll take a month or two to construct it, but Spyglass has everything in her database, and her printers are operable."

Vel walked over, bent low, and whispered something to Tam'itarr. He put up a large hand to send him away, thought a moment and lowered it. Vel continued whispering.

Tam'itarr grinned and clapped Vel on his back. Vel staggered at the hit, but his ears flicked and he smiled. "Vel here says he knows of a K'laxi onboard who may have an extra reactor he would be wiling to part with."

Gord raised an eyebrow, "Willing?"

Vel shrugged. "He owes Tam'itarr a pile of Stars after losing big betting against Olimar in the arena. He might be willing to part with his ships reactor the square the debt."

"And the printable mass?"

Tam'itarr glanced down at a pad on the table. "That might be harder to procure - though not impossible."

Gord drained his tea. "Tam'itarr, I've worked with people... in your profession before. I know you don't do anything for free. What is all this 'help' going to cost me?"

Vel and the other guards looked at each other and then at Gord.

"I'm pleased to work with someone with such a thorough understanding of... business." Tam'itarr leaned back and clicked his claws together. Another Gren appeared with a pad. Tam'itarr took it, read it over and passed it to Gord.

"What's this?"

"Standard contract. I'll get you a reactor and the printable mass, in exchange for use of Spyglass for my own business. When Spyglass is being used for my business I - or my representatives - are in command fully."

Gord read the contract, his finger sliding up and down as he read. "This doesn't limit the number of times you can use Spyglass." He looked up at Tam'itarr. "4 missions."

"Ten."

"Six."

"Eight"

"I accept. You will have use of Spyglass for eight missions with you or your representative in command." Gord touched the corner of the pad, signing the contract.

Tam'itarr stood and threw his arms wide. "Wonderful. We have an accord." He got out from behind the booth. "If you'll excuse me, I have some calls to make. Please, feel at home in my social club. You may avail yourself of anything here, my treat." He inclined his head slightly and through a door into the back.

Gord stood and looked at Ma-ren and Fen. "We should be going too. I have things to do before parts start arriving." They rose as well.

"Ah, that's too bad." Tam'itarr frowned. "No matter. You three are welcome here anytime. It's been a pleasure."

"The pleasure it all mine, Tam'itarr." Gord smiled and the three of them walked out of the club.

Ma-ren waited until they were back it the lift before saying anything. "Gord. You know Tam'itarr is going to try and to screw you right?"

Gord chuckled. "I'm pleased to hear people still say that. Ma-ren you have no idea how old that phrase is. But yes, Like I told him, I've dealt with gangsters before." He sighed. "There's no crime like organized crime."

"So you're just going to let him use Spyglass for whatever thing he needs eight times?"

Gord shrugged. "For now? Yes. There's no sense in making enemies before you need to, especially when those enemies have parts and pieces you need. We're going to be all buddy buddy and friendly with Tam'itarr and his goons until the reactor and printable mass is aboard. Then, we have a few months to figure out what to do before Spyglass is ready anyway." He looked over at them. "Thanks by the way. You two didn't have to help me out at all, and yet here we are. You helped me when I first got here, and you have been giving me a hand all across the station. As far as I'm concerned, you don't need to be involved anymore, and are free to do whatever." He smiled. "Truly, thanks. You've reminded me why after all this, I still like humans and K'laxi - especially when they're working together."

Fen blinked. Were they being dismissed? "Can we still help out?"

Ma-ren's head snapped over to Fen. "Hon, maybe we should-"

Gord shrugged. "If you want to, sure. What were you looking to do?"

"Can we go with you?"

"What?" Ma-ren's ears flattened. "Fen, really, we need to tal-"

Gord looked at Fen and raised his eyebrows. "You want to leave? Don't you have family here?"

Fen shook her head. "I don't. My only family here is Ma-ren."

"I mean, It's not like Spyglass is short on space, and it would be handy to have another couple sets of hands."

Ma-ren was sputtering, "Fen, I."

Fen smiled "We're useful to have around Gord, I'm sure we can help you."

"Fen, I don't want to leave!" Ma-ren was panting and she had her fists balled.

The lift chimed and the doors opened. Ma-ren stomped out and started running.

"Ma! Wait!" Fen took off after her, then stopped after two steps and turned towards Gord. He gestured towards Ma-ren.

"I'm not going anywhere for months. Go talk to Ma-ren."

Fen took off down the hall.

[liv2post]

Serenading Him

CHAPTER 4: A Hand and An Ear

Prev. Chapter

AO3

He went somewhere again.

The smokey, black form cut through the sky like ink on parchment paper, his form leaving behind a faint, rapidly dissipating trail in the sky heading south as you returned from your morning walk with a travel mug of tea.

You hadn’t seen him for another few days since the flying lesson incident and now it was New Year’s Eve. Tomorrow night the students will have returned from their break away from Hogwarts and the Carrows will be back to torment everyone. You weren’t actively avoiding him like you did the one time for dinner, it’s just the timing didn’t always line up while the two of you remained here.

Your shoulder was as good as new, save for the faintest of aches when you rotated your arm back behind you, which should naturally disappear within the coming days. That potion bath soak potion he had given you healed your bruising too, lightening them into a yellow-green hue by the time you went to bed, and then completely gone when you woke up the following morning. Still, you limited your activity with that arm so as to not strain it.

The day was spent in a relatively passive manner; reading by the fire, practicing DADA spells on an old dueling dummy outside, baking chocolate chip cookies, and before you knew it, it was almost dinner time. The gloomy, dark clouds managed to clear away, allowing for a yellowish sunset to break through, casting a lustrous shimmer on the frozen surface of the Black Lake. Your pencil scratched lightly on a small, portable sketchbook as you captured the contour lines of the castle and the Headmaster’s office contrasting sharply against the evening sky from your view in the Clock Tower.

A streak of black in your peripheral caught your attention. The Headmaster’s smoky form was bleeding through the sky like a comet of pure darkness towards his office. As he got closer, his speed did not seem to decelerate. Is he not going to slow down??

The loud crash of glass echoed from the Headmaster’s Tower as the trail dissipated from where the windows were. 

You shot up to your feet from the alcove you were sitting in. Oh my god. Your mind was barraged with a flurry of thoughts. Was he alright? Did he do that on purpose? Or was that another Death Eater? You waited a few minutes, drumming your fingers along the stony edge. There was no departing smoke trail leaving the office from where it crashed through. It had to be him.

You jogged through the corridors, using one of the secret passages to get down to the Potions classroom to raid Slughorn’s store room for first-aid potions before ascending all the way up to the Headmaster’s Office. You were a bit winded from all the stairs but managed to say the word “Dumbledore” to the gargoyle outside the office, you promptly opened the spiral staircase for you.

The twisting staircase came to a rumbling halt. The large set of windows that the Headmaster crashed into were destroyed, the window’s frame tilted off its hinges as bits of glass littered all around the Headmaster’s body. He was wheezing, his chest stuttering up and down as his limbs trembled and spasmed involuntarily. You could discern a few blast marks on his robes, presumably having spells cast at him. His physical state was very familiar to you from what you’ve seen of the 1st years in your house. He’d been put under the Cruciatius Curse recently.

“Professor,” you spoke calmly, approaching his sprawled-out body.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, attempting to occlude the pain, but failing as he had spent his energy occluding so he could fly back as quickly as possible. “D-Don’t. . . t-touch—”

“Shut up,” you ordered. He could do nothing but scrunch his eyes and attempt to stifle pained noises. You withdrew your wand and slowly swirled it about the mess. The pieces of glass rolled about the rug and jumped up into the air. The frames corrected themselves and the glass molded back up into their mosaic-like form and closed themselves shut. 

You kneeled down by his shoulder and presented a few potions to him. “I saw the nature of your return and had a hunch. I yanked ‘em from the Potions classroom.” You pulled the top off with a satisfying ‘pop’ and brought the bottle to his lips. “Drink.”

He did so eagerly without protest as you carefully tipped the liquid into his mouth. His eyebrows began to slowly unpinch the more he swallowed and his body became a little less tense as the pain began to dull, but he was still trembling.

“C’mon. Next one,�� you stated removing the lid of the next potion. This one was not a pain-reliever potion, but rather one for any bruises or minor injuries that may be hidden beneath his robes. You would’ve liked to give him another one, but pain relief potions needed to be staggered by a few hours. He accepted the next potion just as willingly, attempting to still his body against the twitching to no avail.

When you aimed your wand at his chest he tensed all over again, vulnerability flashing in his eyes.

“Relax,” you said softly. “This won’t hurt a bit.” His eyes flicked over your face, trying to discern any deception as you rested the tip of your wand on his sternum.

“Relevarvos,” you chanted.

The pain that made it feel as though he was getting stabbed all over with white-hot knives, the rapid firing of his nerves that caused his body tremors, and the extreme tightness in his lungs that made it almost impossible to breathe had ceased. His lips parted further in sheer relief as he took a deep, quivering inhale and looked at you nonplussed. He had no words as a faint yellow glow emanated from his body, the magic slowly spreading down all the way to his feet. He even, hesitantly, stopped occluding to see if the spell was as effective as it seemed, and there was still no pain.

“I. . .” he croaked out, not from pain, but in near bliss. You pressed your lips together in understanding. Many of the 1st years reacted in a similar manner. 

“Keep taking deep breaths,” you instructed as you accio’d a book, transfigured it into a pillow, and rested his head on it. “And try not to talk so much.”

Severus closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He felt waves of…something rippling from the spot where your wand touched all through his body. It was strange, but calming. He made an attempt to shift his arms to a different position but found that he couldn’t.

“I can’t. . . move. . .”

“Yeah, you can.” You settled into a criss-crossed sitting position. “I didn’t paralyze you. It’s just your mind and body playing tricks on you. It’s a side effect of the spell. Your limbs will feel really heavy. And maybe a bit jello-y.”

He considered your words and made an attempt to lift his foot, finding it a bit easier than his arms, but still only managed to scooch it over a few inches and lull it to the side.

“You should be able to gain more mobility within the hour as the potions and the spell settle further in your body.”

“What…spell…?” he rasped, his breathing sounding more eased.

You sighed, patting the tops of your knees. “The spell is one of my own creation. Its intent is to help with the Cruciatius Curse.” His eyebrows scrunched slightly and his mouth formed like he was going to say “you,” so you kept talking. “Sometimes, Madam Pomphrey has her hands full and even runs out of potions to help with the after-effects of the curse. And sometimes…the kids can’t even get themselves to the Hospital Wing. So…I came up with a spell to help. It soothes nerve inflammation, which is really all the Cruciatus Curse is; attacking and overstimulating the nerves to the point of horrific pain. Our nerves send electrical signals to our muscles when we are in pain and this spell…dims those signals. It’s decent at best by itself, but without the potion, you’d still be in a bit of pain.”

He simply blinked at you, lacking the words to express how impressive it was.

The growl of both your stomachs rumbled aloud in need of your evening meals.

“If you’re alright remaining down there for a bit, I’m going to go make us some food.”

He gave no verbal response, only managing a nod of his head.

You went with something easy to prepare for dinner, not wanting to leave him there for too long. With the many cooking accommodations in the kitchens you were able to take care of multiple things at once; two steaks cooking in the woodfire oven, asparagus being sautéd on the stove, boiled potatoes being mashed… 

​

The gargoyle didn’t ask for a password a second time as you ascended the stairs with two plates in your hand. You frowned when the Headmaster wasn’t in the same spot that you left him in as you stepped into the office, but rather had managed to get himself seated in his office chair, slouching a bit as he still took deep breaths.

“...I’ve got food,” you announced as you approached his desk, setting his plate and utensils with a soft clatter.

His eyes flicked from the windows over to the food and then to you before he said, “Take off the spell.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. The potion should have reached its full effect by now and my arms feel as though they are made of lead.”

You nodded, raising your wand to him. “Alright then.”

The light from his body flickered out as you chanted the counter-spell. His expression did not offer whether he was feeling any lingering pain or discomfort, but the lack of scrunching in his eyes or nose when he stretched his neck out and reached for his utensils gave you some assurance.

“I’ll leave you to it then…” you murmured and got about halfway across the room when he spoke again.

“Stay.”

You turned your head back, unsure if he said what you think he said. “What?”

“...Stay,” he uttered with the same tone of flatness and an almost bored-looking expression, his eyes flitting over to a round table and chair that he narrowly avoided when he had crashed through the window.

You pursed your lips, glancing hesitantly at the polished table before quietly tapping your plate to the surface and stretching your arms back.

“Mmph!”

There was a twinge in your shoulder when you rolled it a certain way. You tried to restrain the sound but it came out too sharply and just audible enough for the Headmaster to pick up on paired with the way your hand massaged the area before you sat down and began eating.

“I… apologize for the…lesson.”

“…Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“It was optimal for you to perform under the impression that you might’ve died. However, I was prepared to magically prevent you from hitting the ground.”

“Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t have blamed you otherwise.”

Severus tapped his fork against his plate, staring at you distantly. “And why is that?” he questioned softly.

You shrugged. “My death offers you no downside.”

Those words were blunter than a hammer but true in your eyes. However, you were either immune or ignorant to the shift in energy in the air as the Headmaster remained silent, opting to not respond further with a mouthful of potatoes. It didn’t last for long however as you spoke once more.

“Does the state you returned in mean I should worry about my own well-being?”

“…No. We’re both fine. That was more or less the result of a…tantrum.”

You snorted, his word choice making you think of Voldemort as a screaming toddler, but you cleared your throat remembering that the Headmaster was still hurt from it as a result. “Sorry to hear that. Was it at least a justified tantrum?”

Severus clicked his tongue. “Yes and no. Potter was nearly captured today.”

The meat you were swallowing got caught in your throat from surprise and you beat your chest until it went down. “And what did that have to do with you?”

“Apparently it is my fault Potter and his friends know how to apparate,” he drawled with bitter sarcasm. “Though the snatchers suffered worse than I did.”

The two of you talked for a while, much longer than you would’ve anticipated, though, you sensed that was more so because he had invited you to stay longer and drink because it was New Year’s Eve and neither of you had the capacity to care about a student, albeit of age, drinking in his office given the current state of the wizarding world. The alcohol had thoroughly loosened your tongues and soon the reserved and secretive Headmaster was spilling. 

He told you about all the crap that happened behind the scenes from your first year at Hogwarts up until this year. He told you about this crazy broom chase way up in the sky at the beginning of the school year where he accidentally hexed George’s ear whilst aiming for a Death Eater’s wand in an attempt to protect George and Lupin. The mission that went wrong was a trap at the Lovegoods’, which unfortunately meant that Luna was still being held at Malfoy Manor. Of all the things that had happened, he was most pissed about last year's Christmas. Last year he had made an Unbreakable Vow with Draco Malfoy who was originally given the task of killing Dumbledore and when he confronted him during Slughorn’s Christmas party, Draco said “I guess you’ll have to break it then.”

“Stupid, fucking boy,” you murmured, currently starfished out on the floor with a bottle in your hand, claiming the position was very comfortable. Snape looked far more dignified than you even though he had his feet up on the desk with a bottle of his own. “Dumbass daddy, too. Why the hell would he reveal his face to Potter regardless of whether or not he managed to get the Prophecy? Memories can be pulled…”

“He’s as egotistical as he is rich,” Severus slurred.

You snickered. “Merlin blessed him with looks and left no room for brains.”

A silence briefly took over the both of you as your drunken thoughts began to swim again. About now. About the future…

“…You’re doomed,” you breathed with an abrupt amount of seriousness. “No matter what you…” The words were left unsaid as you trailed off, but Severus knew what you wanted to say.

He stared off at the window with a grim expression. “…I know.”

You sniffed dryly, slowly pushing yourself off the rug and ambling towards his desk. Snape only focused on you when your form became larger in his peripheral. Your attempt at propping yourself with your hands against the desk looked more like you were slamming your palms down on the surface in an indignant gesture.

“You’re really brave, y’know that?” you mumbled, frog-blinking at him. “Everyone knows about your duel with Potter ‘n call you a coward, but good lord…if only they knew. You’re the bravest fucking wizard I’ve ever met, Severus.”

He was sure it was the firewhiskey making him drunker as he felt another wave of heat glow around his pale cheeks, his lips parted in a silent daze. The euphoria of being seen nearly twenty years later… He surely resembled a gaping fish. 

Your eyes flit past him to a clock on the wall that displayed the time, oblivious to the fact you had called him by his first name. “Ooh… ‘S midnight.” You looked back at him with a melancholic look. “The teachers ‘ll be back in the morning. This ‘s the last time we’ll see each other for a while. Probably ever.”

“You’ve forgotten Easter break,” Severus murmured groggily. 

Your bottom lip jutted out in a momentary pout before you smiled lightly yet sadly. “We’ll see.” You drew your palms back and traipsed around toward the other side of his desk. Severus was staring off at the wall in his thoughts once more as you placed a lingering kiss on the crown of his head. He made absolutely no movement, the only indication that he registered the action was the sudden glassiness of his eyes as lower lids rimmed with restrained wetness.

“Happy New Year, Severus,” you said before stumbling out of his office.

Next Chapter

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck. 

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here. 

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.” 

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.  

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering. 

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves. 

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

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

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

 “Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @rowaelinscourt

[annakie]

FIXING THE HOUSE CHAPTER 13: Mauve Haze Symphony

Part One: I Do Not, In Fact, Have the Power

Part Two: Let’s Spend Lots of Money!

Part Three: All These Things That I’ve Done

Part Four: I Really Want to Stay At My House (YOU ARE HERE)

A little interlude.

Part Five: Power Down

Part Six: You Will Leave Some Paint

Part Seven: Backwards to go Forwards

Part Eight: Master of Bathrooms

Part Nine: Within a Room, Somewhere

Part Ten: Rooms With No View

Part Eleven: Big Bang Room Part A and also Part B!

Part Twelve: We Can Make It On the Outside

Part Thirteen: Mauve Haze Symphony (YOU ARE HERE)

Part Fourteen (A) - In the Kitchen

Part Fourteen (B) - Copper Green

---

Almost done, one more room after this one to go.

Oh man, I thought I'd posted this LAST WEEK and was shocked to see that it was still in my drafts. Oops.

Well, I'm going to take a breather from... everything... and finish this and post it. I hope it's a nice little break for you, too.

A little catchup on the past stuff, and then moving into one of the last two rooms!

OK so I DID forget one really important garage thing -- a new tankless, natural gas powered hot water heater!

In 2009 one day i came home from work to find water pouring out of my garage. Ohhh shit. The hot water heater had rusted through and water went everywhere. I called my dad in a panic and he walked me through shutting the water off on the street level.

I was really lucky that absolutely nothing got ruined, I think maybe a rug I had in there got wet but basically nothing else. Laundry Mountain wasn't quite a thing yet. Some people have their HWH in like, the middle of their house or the attic and having it break like mine did is much worse news.

Anyway, got a new one put in and per my dad's suggestion wrote the date it was installed on it.

HWHs usually have a 10 year lifespan. Mine was installed in 2009 sooooo... uhhh... yeah. It still worked fine, though!

But I decided to stop gambling with time, and had Arturo install a new one.

We f'd up and didn't notice that the first one I bought was Propane and not natural gas powered. Arturo stood over my shoulder when I bought it online, and then it sat in my garage for almost two months while we had so much other stuff going on. By the time we tried installing it, it was past the return date. We discussed it and Arturo volunteered to eat the cost. I ended up sneaking in about half the cost back in on our project/price spreadsheet anyway. :p

Anyway, new HWH works great, and will cost less to run every year, and I don't need to worry about it for at least another decade! Also, I've always been lucky that my HWH survived the freezes easily, so I'm just crossing my fingers that the tankless does, as well.

---

OK, on to today's real update!

The hall bath.

When I talked about the Master Bath way back in Chapter 8, I mentioned that for all intents and purposes this was my only full bath for most of the time I had my house.

The thing was, the tub/shower was not in great shape when I bought the house (like literally everything else) and had only gotten worse through the years.

The tub came stained and discolored and no cleaning trick I ever tried could fix it. A couple of times my dad used this enamel stuff on it to make it look better, but that lasted about a year at a time and then would flake off. Eventually we just stopped doing that.

The shower tiles were also coming off. Several times we just did patching, replacing some with close-but-not-quite color matches.

Eventually... well, you'll see the state of it here in a second.

Also, I tried early on to take a bath in my bathtub, and then realized that there was no overflow, but there WAS a leak around the area where an overflow would have gone but was covered up... and then if there was overflow it just spilled behind the wall. It was a small, shallow tub anyway and baths weren't comfortable, especially for someone who wasn't a size six.

The "Just moved in, this is what I have to work with" picture.

Ugh.

Also, please note that there's actually NO SHOWERHEAD IN THIS TUB. There's just... no shower. So I guess people were taking baths in it? My buddy Helen installed a new faucet and showerhead for me.

See... that's what I started with.

After I took down the wallpaper, cleaned as best I could and slapped up a new coat of paint... I could live with it. Surely I'd make it better!

Oh, also when I tore that wallpaper out, TERMITES were living there, just under the wallpaper above the tub. eating through the drywall.

Thank God for the home warranty that first year, they came out and treated them. Had it treated again a couple of years later.

---

The room got new flooring in the great Flooring & Kitchen Update of 2009.

And then this bathroom ALSO got the toilet and sink areas updated finally after nine years in 2012, as discussed back in parts 7 and 8.

That Shower Curtain is hiding a Secret --- the secret is that the bathtub is still the same, but getting worse!

Much improved. Not so gross. You know, as long as you don't look behind the shower curtain!

Also, no I did NOT put anything into that medicine cabinet frame either... until... well you'll see.

Hilariously, look, I have no pictures of the ceiling of this room but I very much painted all the way up to NEAR the ceiling on all the walls that got painted beige and then never finished. I think I posted this somewhere before but I'll say it again. I just kind of forgot to finish painting this room for twelve years. As long as you didn't look up at the ceiling it was FINE, lol. When I had painted before it was messy too. So there were paint splotches on the ceiling. It was not good and I have ZERO excuses.

My boss at the time had a quote that I always remember and think about in relation to this --- "There's the first 90% of a project, and then the second 90% of the project." Meaning that sometimes just crossing the finish line when you're within a few steps of it is like the hardest part. That's what this ceiling was. I think at one point a couple of years on I went and grabbed the paint can to finish, but the paint was solid by that point, so I was like "Oh I need to just go get more paint.

AND THEN I DIDN'T.

---

I'm going to post here something I swore I'd never show people, the reason I almost never had people stay overnight in my house, my greatest shame.

This is how bad it got at the end.

No amount of cleaning could make it better. Some tiles were held on with duct tape, others just falling off at random. It was so bad, so gross. The reason my showers were all 5 minutes or less whenever possible.

So yeah, the bathroom was pretty nice, as long as you didn't look behind the shower curtain. Or up.

The reason I almost didn't want to show Arturo how bad it was, because it was just... so bad, but I trusted him and.... GOD it was worth it.

---

Once the master bath was mostly done, just some of the details like putting in the trim and painting the smaller things, so that we had a working bathroom at all times, Arturo started in on the hall bath.

This was truly one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. I was so happy when I saw this that I wanted to cry with joy. Gone was the ancient, gross tile. And seeing the gross drywall underneath gone as well.

Also, hey, no black mold like I was slightly worried would be a problem!

But also there was this...

Uhhh yeah so that would be wood that was chewed through by termites.

Arturo said there weren't any there now -- this is just all the damage they'd done for who knows how many years before I moved in and maybe a little after until I had the second termite treatment.

All of that wood got torn out. A few days later...

GOODBYE FOREVER AND NO THANK YOU gross old small stained tub. And hello to brand new uneaten wood!

Arturo said that the plumbing under here had also rotted out and fallen apart at some point and the water was also mostly draining straight into the ground.

So both of my bathrooms were seriously fucked in ways I couldn't have known about.

Obviously, that was all replaced and fixed. Any bad bits of plumbing or wood or whatever were made whole and new.

---

So while this was going on, I also now had to start making decisions about this bathroom.

Originally, I had said that since both bathrooms had very good tile floors still, and the sink countertop was beige and the sink cabinet/mirror/medicine cabinet set were all brown, that I would just keep both bathrooms beige themed. After all, it looked great in the Master.

I did want different accent tile to differentiate the two. And so Arturo brought me a couple of samples and after the obvious choice of the one I made in the Master, I decided on this for the hall bath.

Another decent beige accent tile, and I would do a taupe on the wall to match the taupe-ish lighter glass tile in the accent. It would have looked nice, with little effort to change things. We were going to use the same main tile in the shower, as well.

And then I started thinking about accents like towels, shower curtain and rugs and looking online for accents that would look good with all this and... couldn't find things I would like. At all.

I began doubting my taupe idea and was worried that the bathroom would be, well, boring. I wasn't in love with any of this stuff, the accent or the taupe colors and couldn't bring it all together in my brain to something I really wanted.

So one Sunday, I spent my afternoon tile shopping.

I went to Floor & Decor, which had hundreds of options, several of which I liked and took pictures of as "maybe", but nothing super leapt out at me.

The Tile Shop, which is ridiculously expensive. I did find an option in there that I loved, but it was almost $30 a tile. The accept tile in the master bath was $15 and I thought that was almost too expensive.

I went to Lowe's, which is where the master bath tile came from, and saw nothing else that spoke to me.

I went to The Home Depot, and fell in love with an accent tile. I actually went there first and saw The One, but made myself go to all the other places to make sure I didn't love anything else more. The One was only $10 a tile, too!

One huge problem though.

It was not beige.

It is called Binary Code and it is mauve, silver... and black.

The entire day when I was out looking at other options, stubbornly telling myself I couldn't use that one because it would require too many changes my brain also just kept chewing on BUT I LOVE IT, I WANT IT!! like a petulant child.

I finally went back to home depot late in the afternoon and stood there and looked at Binary Code, standing there mentally listing out all of the things I'd need to have Arturo change in order to get what I wanted.

We'd need a new main tile, something in black and white.

I went and looked at the main tile options and hey, a nice black and white one I liked for like $1.50 per tile. More expensive than the .89 per main tile for the master bath, but I'd tell Arturo he could charge me for the difference.

Okay but also the floor would need to be redone in that tile, so there's a little extra cost and labor.

All of the wood wouldn't really match now. But instead of replacing... how about just painting? Just a black paint on all the wood... that would work!

I could do it! This was going to be fine!

...and then I realized that the sink countertop was still beige. Shit. I don't know if we could paint that.

I decided, in the end, it was all going to be worth it. I bought all 14 remaining pieces of Binary Code at that Home Depot right then and there, and snapped a picture of the new main tile for Arturo.

I braced myself when he came to the house next and showed him the new tile, told him the new plan.

He was totally cool with it.

We needed a few more pieces of Binary Code, and I asked him about the extra cost and he said since I bought most of the accent tile myself it would balance things out, even with doing the floors.

He then suggested looking at just buying a new sink countertop, and we looked online together after measuring the current one, and I ordered a plain white countertop in the same size.

We added the cost of the black paint and painting labor for the bathroom and I realized that I was headed to having a second bathroom that was exactly what I wanted. I was so happy.

I settled on a very light mauve for the walls, and bought towels, a shower curtain and bathmats in mauve, as well.

---

A week or so prior to this, Arturo and I discussed the new bathtub. It had been his plan added into the remodel cost to replace the tub with more or less the same kind of tub, just newer. Builder's grade. Which was fair!

But not what I wanted.

I told him not to buy a tub yet (and this was before we started in on the hall bath renovations.)

I went tub shopping online. For days.

I learned about materials, and sizes, and purposes of tubs.

I knew, after the horrorshow of my old tub, I wanted something nice. Not top of the line, but something I could actually take a bath in. A tub that wasn't just basic, but something I could show off a little and actually use.

After seeing options and prices, I decided that this was a splurge item. I set myself a budget of somewhere between 500 and 1000 for a tub, more than I imagined ever spending on one before, but I wanted acrylic for the durability and stain resistance. I wanted something I could soak in.

Arturo and I discussed at length the size of the tub once I told him what I wanted and showed him some options. The bathroom is already small, how much more could I encroach into the room without it becoming a problem? It obviously had to be the standard 60" long, but how wide and tall could I go?

After many hours of comparing tubs at Lowes/HD/Amazon... I finally picked my tub.

WOODBRIDGE 60" Acrylic Rectangular Alcove Soaking Bathtub in White with Right Drain

The main thing that sold me on this one was that it had extra insulation, so bathwater stayed warm longer. It was also gorgeous, and had a curved back for comfortable soaking.

It was also 4" wider than my old tub. Comfortable for more body shapes and sizes. 14" of soaking depth. Brushed nickle finish with a popup drain.

---

It took a week to arrive because it had to be shipped by freight. Then the FedEx guy decided to just walk to my door, and NOT ring the doorbell. I was sitting at my desk which is right next to the front door when I heard someone outside, I got up to grab a shirt to throw over my tank top, and he was gone when I got back 20 seconds later. I looked on my doorbell cam and he walked up, stood there for 10 seconds without reaching to knock or ring, stuck the paper on my door and jogged back to his truck.

I called and complained to FedEx and the next day put up MULTIPLE signs on my garage and door saying I am HOME and KNOCK. Then left the window over there open to make sure I heard him.

I greeted him as he walked to my driveway and made sure it got delivered inside my house per the shipping agreement.

...and then it was an extra table in the middle of my big room for like two weeks lol. I'd posted a pic a couple of updates back of Fry sitting on the box.

The new sink countertop came in around then, too, and spent like a month in the box just being a table.

It's OK, we needed the counter space.

---

Finally, the day arrived.

Had to snap a picture of the only time I'd ever see under the tub. Looks good!

The same day, the new main tile started going in.

And the plumbing got mounted! Look at that beautiful NOT ROTTED/CHEWED UP wood!

NGL, I now wish we'd put the controls / faucet a little lower, but it's OK where it is. A balance between high and low for showering or bathing.

It took longer than I was hoping for for this bathroom to get done, but near the end of September Arturo had a big project that he'd warned me about that kept getting delayed finally start up, so I saw him less as the weeks went by, but I understood.

Technically, we're still not done, here at the end of October, but he was actually here just yesterday the 30th and did a couple of things, and is coming back hopefully next week.

ANYWAY... in the meantime I bought a bathtub tray, and a bath pillow, and a box of bath bombs.

The tile went up on both the wall and the floor, the wood cabinets and mirror got painted, and a shelf put in over the bathtub.

--

It was finally painting the walls day!

I'd picked out the color I was sure I wanted, vaguely mauve and Arturo had picked up the color.

I was working when he and Janarie started painting and he called me in very shortly.

"I don't think this is the color you want. It's the right color but...."

I looked and quickly agreed. It wasn't just vaguely mauve, it was light pink. It wasn't what I'd envisioned now that it was on the wall. Shit.

Arturo said he'd have time to run and get a new color and get the painting done if I picked it very quickly.

I picked up my BFF Sherwin-Williams Paint Swatch Book and at that point I felt like I knew everything he had to offer. Other mauves on that page just weren't right, they'd also be too pink and I wanted a slightly grey-er mauve. I almost thought about looking at Behr or Glidden colors when instead I went to the Sherwin-Williams website and just color searched for Mauve... and bam. There it was.

Studio Mauve. It was in the back of the book, under a color collection called The Jazz Age, and it was perfect. Arturo went and got a can, came back and we were both happy when he started painting again.

One of the very last little dramas of the build.

---

Okay, so it all came together so well, and Arturo told me later that he doubted my vision when I told him, but he had to agree when it was all put together that he thought it worked great. Not what he would have done in his own house, but even he agreed with how well it all works together.

It's really me.

Here we go.

First, with the shower curtain.

And... voila! Pulled back.

I know, the shower curtain seems like it should be lower, but it really can't be. You'll see why in a sec.

I love that that curtain is the thing that ties all the mauve together. The Mauve that's on the walls is in that curtain. The mauve in the handtowels is in that curtain, and the mauve on the bathrugs is in that curtain.

I also bought turkish bathsheets in mauve for the room, and they... don't actually go with the rest of the mauve! The shade is off. But that's OK, they're hung up on a hook on the back of the door, out of sight. I maybe should have returned them and bought them in black but... eh. I'm fine with it.

I absolutely love the new tile, it looks so good and flows well from the floor to the wall.

The brushed nickel faucet was honestly in worse shape than I thought it was when Arturo put it back in. But then Arturo was like "I have another of those Delta faucets I don't need" so he gave that to me as well and I just paid for the install.

So there's a mix of chrome and brushed nickel in the bathroom now but I"m OK with it.

The wood stuff looks great painted black. And hey, also new art in the medicine cabinet windows that I think goes really well in the room!

Plus of course the same things like trim, door handles, doorstops etc. that's in every room.

A closer look at the tub!

It's got the same rainfall main shower head as the master, and the same controls.

That "shelf" at the bottom there is actually the water spout for the bathtub. It's so sleek, I love it a lot.

And of course the hand-held showerhead, same as in the master, replaced the one it came with.

The tub plug is a popup, and it's got an overflow that works!

Also a nice rounded slant for back resting. I have a bath pillow for my head and it's SO comfortable!

I've only taken baths twice, but I bought a box of bath bombs, light a candle, listen to a podcast or a chapter of an audiobook... it's SO nice and peaceful. Will still probably only do it every couple of weeks but It's SO relaxing and feels luxurious.

Oh I guess I didn't actually get a picture of this but if I did pull the shower curtain liner into the tub, it reaches almost to the floor of the tub. The tub is very tall and a couple of inches off the ground thanks to all that padding and insulation. It's a bit of a hazardous step, which is why there are hand-hold safety bars on both walls just outside of the tub. (You can see in the pic with the curtain closed above.)

Okay so! That's the hall bath! There's one room left... obviously, the Kitchen and I really can't wait to show you (and finish up this long series of posts lol).

But that'll probably happen about two weeks from now because I'm about to be really busy again!

Thanks for coming along on this long journey of a very small room. :)

[shrimpleasthat77]

Oughhh my school/work schedule is SLAMMING me but I do have this little Drabble. Emjoy.

“Tsubasa?” Orochimaru stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “That guard of yours said you were in here.”

Tsubasa’s room was almost as eccentric as he was, right down to his affinity for patterned fabric. Various Persian rugs hung from the crimson walls and floors, the dressers and cabinets stacked with jewelry and trinkets. It was almost overstimulating, messy yet organized. As the snake scanned around the room, he couldn’t quite find the man he was looking for. Usually Tsubasa would be on one of his couches, either flipping through a binder or tinkering with one of his replica dolls, but this time he was nowhere to be found.

An arm suddenly shot up from the bed nestled in the corner of the room, obscured by various curtains. “I’m over here,” came a hoarse voice, most likely Tsubasa.

“You blend in to all of this clutter, no wonder I could not find you.” Orochimaru walked over to the bed, leaning against the bedpost.

“I apologize, I completely forgot you were coming today.” Tsubasa attempted to sit up, wincing as he did so. “I’m afraid I’m not in the best condition.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The older man went to lean on the bed, but quickly withdrew as the mattress wobbled. “Why the hell did it do that?”

“Waterbed.”

“What are you, twelve years old?”

Instead of a continence, Tsubasa winced once more. He curled into himself tighter, sinking further into the crevasse his body made in the bed.

“Aw, poor thing.” Orochimaru commented, arms returning to their crossed position. “This isn’t any kind of sexually transmitted ordeal is it?”

“No, thank god it’s not.” The blonde started, “I’ve dealt with this for years, I get ulcers all over my stomach. They come at the worst times I swear.”

“Is that why you hardly leave here? Or are you just that much of a hermit?”

“A mix of both, but I digress. I can’t deliver any intel to you in this state, nor can I service you. If you want to leave, I won’t hold you.”

Orochimaru thought for a moment. The most logical course of action, to him at least, would be to leave. He can’t get what he wants out of Tsubasa, thus rendering him useless for the time being. On the other hand, however, Tsubasa is a creature of pure feeling. The younger man didn’t even require much from him, really, as he just seemingly enjoyed existing around the sannin. If he kept him happy, he may be able to get whatever he wants out of the blonde man.

“I came all the way here on foot, do you just expect me to leave?” Orochimaru climbed onto the bed in a somewhat graceful manner, “I’m sure there’s a work-around to this little issue, no?”

“I can’t exactly say,” Tsubasa turned himself slowly, face now resting against the other man’s hip, “I don’t usually see anyone during these episodes.”

“Well, if you can’t satisfy me in that regard, I’m sure you’ve heard something through the grapevine?” The Sannin began carding through the blonde’s hair.

He let out a relaxed sigh, “The most interesting thing that’s been brought to me is that The Akatsuki have seemingly been popping up more often. Other than that it’s been nothing but petty gossip.”

“They don’t tend to frequent here, do they?”

“Not that I have experienced, no, but some customers have been saying the same things about them.”

Orochimaru hummed, still basically petting Tsubasa, “it’s good to know where those fools are, especially considering the proximity. And you said you had nothing of value, you liar.”

“I’m not a liar on purpose…” he looked up at the older man, the already present pain on his face mixing with the pouty expression he put on.

“I do believe you’ll have to make this up to me now, tenfold if anything”

“If you stay while I rest, I may wake up in a better condition.” Tsubasa wrapped his arms around Orochimaru’s thigh, “then I can properly give you what you came here for.”

The older man chuckled, “I suppose I don’t have anything better to do…”

[merryfortune]

Dream Girl

Written for Femslash February 2025

Day 4. Astral 

Series: Glitter Puffs

Title: Dream Girl

Ship: Nozomi/Urara

Fandom: Yes! Pretty Cure 5

Word Count: 2,524

Rating: T

Warning: None 

Tags: Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Supernatural Elements, Kissing, Love Confessions

   Nozomi put herself to be like usual.

   She got into her pajamas: a pair of shorts and button-up shirt, both pretty breezy for the late spring and early summer nights which could get quite warm. She brushed her teeth and swished her mouth out with water, too. She brushed her hair and put some curlers in. She told her parents that she loved them and would see them in the morning before finally turning off the lights in her room so she could crawl into bed.

   It was all pretty normal. She went to sleep, the darkness soothed her and then… She woke up.

   Not in the morning, no, nor her bedroom either. This was something else. This was a tiny little kingdom filled with tall coconut trees and the tiniest of residents. It was in the middle of a desert, huddled around a crystal blue oasis and there was a castle.

   Nozomi’s heart thudded in her chest. She realised something. This was the Palmiere Kingdom. A place she had never visited before but had seen pictures, heard stories. It was warm here: blazingly warm with azure skies overhead which lacked a single cloud. 

   She wandered around, feeling a giant amongst the settlement and found herself at the castle. Where else? It was one of the few places in the Kingdom, which she could see all of from east to west, that could accommodate her side. Even if she did have to get on her knees and wiggle through the front door. The guardian knights outside didn’t so much bat an eyelash.

   It was though they were expecting her - or that she wasn’t actually there.

   Upon entering the castle, Nozomi found Coco pretty fast and her oh. Her heart pounded.

   Of course. Coco had a family in the Palmiere Kingdom. A mother, a father, grandparents. His Grandfather was in bed and looked quite aged, grey fur and saggy whiskers. His wife, Coco’s Grandmother, held his little paw and Coco did his best to put up a smile.

   “I’ll go get a fresh wet towel. That might help with Grandfather’s fever.” Coco said but he sounded guilty for suggesting it.

   Regardless, his Mother encouraged the kindness. His Father just stared.

   Coco turned around and was shocked to see Nozomi in the room. Upon their eyes meeting, the room faded away. The smooth cobblestone walls, the decadent rugs of scarlet with their golden tassels. All of it.

   “What are you doing here?” Coco squeaked and then laughed awkwardly. “Actually, it makes sense you would be here. Your magic must be getting stronger.”

   “My magic?” Nozomi echoed.

   Coco began to walk forward and Nozomi walked with him into a white void. 

   “You are the Pretty Cure of Hopes and Dreams, your affinity is with light, it makes sense that your powers would develop in this space.” Coco said. “I’m proud of you, Nozomi, for being able to grow like this.”

   “I’m still confused, Coco.” Nozomi admitted. “What is this place? What does it have to do with my powers as Cure Dream?”

   “This is my dream. You are astral projecting right now, Nozomi. That means when you went to sleep tonight, you left your body and found mine, haha.” Coco replied.

   “Oh.” Nozomi swallowed thickly - and blushed just a little.

   “Ah, I worded that poorly but still, keep at it and you might be able to do it on purpose. Just think about it, your mastery is over light: dreams are the lights we see in the dark of sleep.” Coco furthered explained.

   Nozomi hummed and thought about Coco’s wisdom. She supposed it made sense. When she closed her eyes, she saw phosphenes on the back of her eyelids. During sleep, dreaming occurred dream the REM phase and REM stood for rapid eye movement. So those movements, they turnd those lights into images akin to how animation functioned. Thanks to Coco’s tutoring, she remembered more titbits from science like this. Though not certain, she felt like she came around to what Coco meant.

   “I see.” Nozomi mumbled.

   “Here you go, I think we’ve walked far enough so you can go back to your own dream now, Nozomi.” Coco told her upon making an abrupt stop. He looked up at her and smiled, “Good luck with learning your powers better. I hope the other girls are able to master their magic just like you.”

   “Thank you, Coco.” Nozomi replied.

   “Oh, and, um, before I go… Don’t worry if you saw anything in my dream,” Coco’s voice sounded assuring, “I was dreaming about something that happened a long time ago and feel better about. In fact, it was nice to see my Grandparents again, even if it had to be like that.”

   “I understand.” Nozomi replied.

   “Good night, Nozomi.” Coco bade her.

   “Good night, Coco.” Nozomi returned his sentiments and then.

   Poof. He disappeared. 

   The dream ended and Nozomi reefed herself from her bed. She looked around her room. Her stuffed animals, the posters on the wall, her messy dresser. She paid close attention to the details just to make sure this wasn’t another dream. It definitely wasn’t but there was a strange feeling in her chest. Perhaps from that little scene of grief that Coco’s dream had showed her. There was a lot she didn’t know about being a Pretty Cure.

   Astral projecting, dreamwalking… She had no idea that the magic of being a Pretty Cure could even be accessed outside of that alternative form of hers. She wondered what growing pains the other girls might start going through with their powers, what that would like for them. It made her curious and as their leader, the first Pretty Cure, Nozomi vowed to blaze the trail ahead so she could help better.

   So every now and again, Nozomi tried to see if she could trigger this power of hers on purpose. She couldn’t. Duh. She was Yumehara Nozomi, flunkee extraordinaire and generally an unlucky, clumsy person but every now and again, it did happen by accident.

   Nozomi got into all sorts of mischief, she would admit, being able to peek into the dreams of others. It wasn’t all fun and games, Coco’s dream having given her a baseline of what could be serious about a dream, but it could be. 

   Little kids had dreams which were tonnes of fun, mishmashes of anime and cartoons with candy coloured fairy tales. Adults had rather serious dreams, she discovered, realistic examinations of what they would do in emergency situations. Teenagers, like her, had dreams which were all over the place, in between the aforementioned age groups: sometimes childish, sometimes chilling. Occasionally Nozomi even saw something that made her blush. She believed those were called wet dreams. 

   None of it a true reflection of reality but the hope of seeing something out of the ordinary did make Nozomi’s nighttime routine a whole lot more interesting. She didn’t mind being a sightseer. Though, it did involve a lot of time management when she had school in the morning.

   It was funny. Coco had been the only dream she had entered that belonged to someone she knew. Until now.

   “Urara.” Nozomi breathed when she saw her dear companion.

   However… The atmosphere of Urara’s dream was off. Nozomi could feel it instinctively, though she was unable to fully articulate why because from her position looking in, this looked like Urara’s wildest dreams come true. 

   Her dream was taking place within a dramatic stage, made of the richest, darkest wood and adorned with heavy curtains of crimson velvet. The room was filled with faceless, shadowy people who clapped and cheered, their ordinance all calling for the name of Kasugano Urara. Over and over again and there she was.

   Up on the stage, dyed in dynamic lighting of amber and wearing clothes that reminded Nozomi of renaissance Europe. Her silhouette was akin to that of a cupcake, she was boarded up in stifling taffeta and large shifts of stiff silk. She wore silver and gold, her hair done up with a conical accessory of velour, topped with an opaque ribbon.

   “Wherefore art thou… Romeo?” Urara began.

   Nozomi got chills from that line alone. Urara’s pronunciation was immaculate. Her expression was beautifully tortured, a tear on her cheek which glimmered. Her hands were clasped together in prayer. 

   “Deny thy father and refuse thy name.” Urara continued.

   Shakespeare… Performing Shakespeare for such an enthusiastic crowd had to be the ultimate achievement of any thespian, Nozomi was certain. He was renowned for good reason and Urara’s performance thus far from the first two lines alone was sparkling.

   “Or if thou wilt be sworn my name, quoth the Raven-”

   Urara’s expression faltered. Now, Nozomi wasn’t a whiz of medieval English but she was fairly certain that was not how the monologue was meant to continue. The fact Urara looked so betrayed by her own lips, oh, it made Nozomi’s heart ache with worry.

   “The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun… the frumious Bandersnatch…”

   Those weren’t even words now, Nozomi was sure. Her stomach twisted and knotted. She drew in closer to the stage and then she felt it. A change in the crowd. They began to boo and jeer. 

   Urara fretted on stage as her credibility as an actor was torn to shreds. She looked through the crowds, not a caring face, not a kind word. She trembled and she fidgeted and she buckled beneath the weight of it all. Practice, schoolwork, scripts, and more. All the behind the scenes work and she couldn’t escape it.

   Not even in her dreams.

   Nozomi wouldn’t allow it. Her heart quaked in her chest. She knew that Urara was a brilliant actress. She was a reliable student and a polite employee. She wouldn’t allow the crowd to turn on Urara and torture her in this nightmare.

   The darkness that the audience wallowed in slowed Nozomi down as she tried to get up onto the stage. The flooring, once a crisp carpet, melted and turned gooey. The people, already faceless and unidentifiable, began to merge and turn amorphous. They grabbed at her, tried to draw her into their cruel blobs but Nozomi fought it off.

   She grabbed the edge of the stage. The wooden planks were hard and hot, warmed to a boiling point by those terrible stage lights. The amber colour had become a harsh, urine-coloured yellow. But Nozomi pulled herself up nonetheless with all her might.

   She leapt onto the stage and to Urara’s rescue. 

   “You were doing great, Urara, don’t listen to them,” Nozomi urged her, “this isn’t real, this is just a nightmare.”

   She knelt at Urara’s feet. She had all but curled up into a ball, hands over her head. Her once majestic dress that had trapped her, now ribboned and dirty. With tremors in her fingers, Nozomi reached out and coaxed Urara to look up.

   Trembling, terrified, Urara slowly looked up and her eyes watered when she saw Nozomi. Nozomi smiled weakly and held her hand gently, peeling it away from the side of Urara’s face which was puffy and smeared with dried tears.

   “I’m here now.” Nozomi told her.

   “Nozomi…” Urara’s voice was high and warbling. “My hero!”

   Urara flung herself at Nozomi. Her arms flapped out wide and then inwards in an enormous hug. She buried herself against Nozomi’s breast, clad in her pyjamas, and held onto her tightly.

   “Thank you, Nozomi, thank you.” Urara’s voice was high and pithy and grateful. 

   “Your welcome-”

   Nozomi attempted to reply to Urara but Urara was quicker with a kiss of all things.

   Her hands rose and caressed the side of Nozomi’s face, she zoomed in and kissed her. Urara’s hands were delicate but her lips were anything but. Her passion was intense, and open-mouthed. Nozomi stiffened, her eyes widened as this happened.

   Her first kiss.

   Did it even count as a first kiss? She was really, truly here but to Urara, she was a figment of her imagination. 

   Yet as a first kiss, despite these surreal circumstances, it was not a bad kiss. Quite the opposite in fact. Urara overflowed with her affections, her lips were all but electric. She was sweet and supple and when Nozomi calmed down despite the surprise, she was able to kiss back. 

   Nozomi kissed Urara back with reverence, chastity. She did her best to enjoy it, the dream shifted around them. The stage lights softened to a mellow buttercup. The auditorium was emptied of those people and their cruel jeering. The orchestra began to pluck upon silver notes that were jovial and merry. Urara sighed when she ended the kiss and gazed adoringly into Nozomi’s eyes.

   “Nozomi…” Urara professed in a low voice, drawing back. “I love you. Thank you for saving me from my bad dreams… hehe, you really are my dream girl. I - I could never confess such things in real life.”

   Nozomi’s heart could have leapt out of her chest. She decided that it would be best to play along. To keep pretending she was just a manifestation of this crush that Urara on her, appearing in her dreams to safeguard her. It was sweet, honestly, even if it left Nozomi awestruck.

   She stared, all but unable to breathe as she processed this kiss - and her feelings regarding it. Nozomi licked her lips and felt a trill when she got a scant taste of the remnants of her and Urara’s kiss. That seemed to be confirm her now budding feelings…

   “I-I’ll see you tomorrow at school, Urara,” Nozomi replied, through wracked nerves, “but, um, just know… you are my dream girl, too.”

   “Thank you, Nozomi.” Urara replied with a smile that could out shine the stars. It was so dazzling.

   The dream began to fade and Nozomi found her escape. She felt bad, leaving Urara behind on the stage but when she turned her back, she was able to see Urara rise to her full height, short as it may be, and resume her monologue.

   “And I’ll no longer be a Capulet…”

   That made Nozomi happy as she disappeared, making her way home and to her body again. She woke up not too long after - and before her morning alarm even. Nozomi blushed as she recalled the events of last night’s dream. Her lips still felt kissed as though it had been real, in the flesh.

   She was all but in fantasy herself as she got ready for school. She resolved to pretend that it had never happened! It would be better that way. To kiss and exchange such confessions, it was too much, embarrassing, and yet enough to make Nozomi swoon.

   But Urara was the first person she saw in the daytime, in her school uniform. She looked as giddy as she normally did, bounding up to say hello. The rest of the school looked dreary and dull for a Monday morning, all stone walls and sleepy students, and yet Urara was an energetic beam of sunshine outside those curly, steel gates.

   “Nozomi, Nozomi, you’ll never guess,” Urara teased her, bouncing on her heel, “but last time… you were in my dreams!”