#WHEW........... things are heating up in the middle of the street

[againstacecilia]

A Realization

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, bounty-hunting, alcohol, sad girl hour, Din gets hurt, more pining (I'm SORRY)

A/N: WHEW WE'RE BACK! Sorry for the sudden hiatus, but thank you for being here through it all. Reader gets a crack at leading a hunt in this chapter soooo get ready. 😍 Thank you forever and ever and ever to @creatively-analytical for beta-ing, ILYSM. 💖 Asks are always open!!

The next few weeks are spent training. You fall into your cot every night exhausted and sleep a dreamless sleep, waking the next morning with muscles you didn’t even know you had aching. As draining as it should have been, you actually find yourself thriving. Your body becomes strong and you learn to use it in ways you never imagined. Mando ups your sparring to nearly every night and you progress faster than either of you thought. 

One night, after nearly taking him down, you’re both panting as Mando helps you up and says, “I think you’re ready.”

“Ready to what?”

“Ready to help me with another bounty.” He looks you up and down as you wipe dirt from your legs; the floor of the Crest needing a good cleaning. “What do you think?”

Adrenaline sparks in you, excitement creeping through your blood. “I’m ready,” you nod. 

“Alright, we’ll head to Nevarro and pick one up. You’ll take point.”

You both head up to the cockpit and you watch Mando punch in the coordinates for Nevarro. The more you watch him pilot, the more interesting it becomes. It’s a new thing, finding interest in things like flying and fighting, but it solidifies the new direction your life is taking. 

The first thing you notice about Nevarro is the smell. Sulfur and heat combined with packed dirt and fuel give you an idea of what the people will be like, and you’re right. Hardened, proud people nod and walk briskly past you as you follow Mando through the main street toward a small cantina. The interior is dim and sparsely populated in the early hour and, at a table in the middle of the room, a man with dark skin and close-cropped hair lights up at the sight of your Mandalorian companion. 

“Mando!” he raises a hand in welcome, beckoning you both over, “It’s been a while! Welcome!”

“Karga,” Mando responds, shaking the man’s hand and offering you a seat at the table.

“And who is this?” the man Mando called Karga asks, looking at you. You extend your hand and give him your name with a polite smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” he shakes your hand as well. “So! What brings you back to my neck of the woods?”

“Need a bounty. Something low- to mid-level.”

Karga pulls some pucks out of his cloak and sets them on the table between you. Various busts hover over the small devices and he gives you and Mando details on each person. 

“Looks like we’ve got the normal array of bail jumpers, some escaped cons, an ex-Imp…” Karga stops and gestures to all of them, “Take your pick.”

Mando looks to you, “Which one do you want to take?”

You observe the holograms and sift through the information Karga just gave. You decide on one man, an escaped prisoner called Jafan Tille. Mando grabs the puck off the table. 

“Good choice,” Karga comments, taking the rest and putting them back in his cloak. “Luckily, he should be close so I expect you back in a week or so.”

Mando nods and stands, you follow suit. “It was nice to meet you, Karga.”

“Lovely to meet you as well. Keep this one in line, alright?” He points at Mando with a gleam in his eye.

“I’ll do my best,” you chuckle. 

The sun is nearing the horizon as you and Mando make it back to the Razor Crest. Mando had bought some fresh food before you left the cantina as well as some drinks the bartender promised were “the best in the parsec”. You were sure you wouldn’t know the difference; drinking was something you really only did at special occasions back home. But it kind of was a special occasion, to you anyway, and you were ready to celebrate the general success of this new life you’d started. 

As usual, you and Mando sat back to back as you ate dinner. There’s an air of friendship that surrounds you now and you’ve begun to find comfort in his presence. You and he laugh through the evening, eating and drinking and talking about nothing of consequence. By the time the sun is fully set, you’re feeling light and your head is buzzing quite pleasantly. 

“Mando,” you put the empty cup on the floor next to you, “What’s your actual name?”

He straightens up a bit against your back but stays quiet.

“Oh I’m sorry, is that something you can tell me?”

“It is,” he sighs, “Others know my name, but I don’t generally share it with too many. As a Mandalorian, secrecy is survival.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry I asked so-”

“Din.”

The single syllable rings in your ears. “Din?”

“My name is Din Djarin,” he says again, a little stronger this time.

It takes every bit of will power you have to not turn and look at him. Instead, you reach down and find his hand. Giving it a squeeze, you say, “Thank you, Din.” 

He squeezes back and you sit in silence for a second before you let go. “I think I should go to bed. The room is spinning a little bit.”

Mando chuckles as he reaches down to grab his helmet. It hisses back into place and he stands, coming around to help you up. 

“Oops,” you stumble, the change in altitude as you stand really getting the room turning. Mando catches you with ease and sweeps you into his arms. 

“Careful, Cuyan, looks like those drinks were strong.” He laughs and sets you on your cot. 

You frown up at him as he adjusts your blankets and pillows, “When do I get to know what that means?”

“Eventually,” is all he says before stepping away. He returns with a canteen of water. “Drink up, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

- - - - - - - -

Even with the water, your pounding head is the first thing you notice as you come to consciousness. The Crest’s engines are humming and you figure you’re already headed toward your bounty. Groaning, you get up and head to the fresher, hoping a cold shower will help calm the rumbling in your stomach. 

Luckily, you do feel a bit better after the shower, but your head is still pounding. You fill the canteen back up before climbing to the cockpit. 

“Morning Ma-, I mean, Din.”

“How we feeling?” Din turns to face you as you settle into your chair. You catch the amusement in his voice but choose to ignore it. 

“To be honest, my head is killing me.”

He laughs, turning back to the controls, “I told you to drink all the water.”

“I did,” you insist, but you laugh along with him. Whatever blossomed between the two of you last night is still there and it’s nice to laugh with him. Even if it’s at your own expense. 

“We should make it to Mon Cala in a couple of hours.” Din begins to fill you in on the bounty you had selected, Jafan Tille. He broke out of a prison ship with the help of members of his gang and had skipped around the Galaxy for 6 months before being recognized at an outpost in the Mid-Rim. The amount on his head has been growing since. 

“He isn’t dangerous, per say, just very crafty. Master of disguise, he seems to blend in with the locals wherever he is and charms most of the people who try to turn him in. We’re to bring him in alive.”

You study the holopad containing Jafan’s information. “What’s Mon Cala like?”

“It’s an ocean planet, lots of underwater cities to hide in.”

“Or be trapped in,” you pose. From what you’ve read about Jafan, he doesn’t seem like the type to want to be hidden away for the rest of his life. “He seems to be getting lazy.”

Din hums his agreement, “Likely not adjusting well to life on the run.” 

“Let’s fix that for him,” you put the holopad on the arm of your chair. 

For the rest of the journey you prepare for a hunt, packing your bag and stretching. You go through your forms by yourself in the cargo hold, punching and kicking at the air until Din’s voice calls.

“We’re about to land.”

Wiping sweat from your head with your sleeve, you climb up and into the cockpit. The view from the windows stops you in your tracks. A glittering city built on top of the water nearly blinds you, both tunnels under the cerulean waves and walkways above connecting the bustling areas. Districts of shops and homes lay in front of you, surrounded by crystal clear water. Din expertly lowers the Crest to an open landing pad while your eyes bounce from sight to sight. 

After paying for the dock, you and Din load up and head down the ramp. You had both decided that trying out Dac City, an above water city, was a good place to start. Din agreed that an underwater city wasn’t the most likely spot he’d be; he’d want to be able to mingle and schmooze and celebrate his “freedom”. 

“Here,” Din hands you the tracking fob, “Take the lead, bounty hunter.”

You take it with a smile, the small red light pulsing slowly. You know that to mean he isn’t incredibly close, but you pick a direction and follow the crowd keeping an eye on the fob. Din follows closely behind, standing nearly an entire head over most the other people in the city. 

For a couple of hours you peruse the streets and shops of Dac City, falling into a rhythm with your companion. You begin asking the questions you’d heard him ask on your previous hunts, letting him ask the follow ups you might miss. He points out small spaces that people could slip into without being noticed and, before long, you’re seeing the world around you as he might. 

As you turn a corner to a side road, the fob begins blinking furiously and your eyes snap to Din as he scans the street. He sinks into a crouch, keeping low and motioning for you to lead the way down the street. With wide eyes you whisper, “Where?”

He comes up close to you and breathes back, “Next intersection. He’s walking away from us and I don’t think we’ve been noticed.”

You nod, adjusting your footsteps to be as silent as possible. You near the next intersection and catch sight of Jafan for the first time. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Din, with jet black hair and a clean-shaven face. Circular sunglasses rest on his nose, and his dark, tailored suit is cut close to a slim frame. You and Din stay in the shadows of the building as much as possible when Jafan’s head peeks over his shoulder and sees you behind him. 

Without hesitating, he takes off. Cursing under your breath you follow, Din on your heels. The three of you race through the uninhabited streets of Dac City before reaching the city center. 

“Mando, I can’t see him anymore!”

“I got him,” he responds, taking the lead. The crowd begins to part for him as they notice his hulking from barreling toward them and you follow close behind to take advantage of the clearing. After a minute, Din calls your name and points to a small door. “He ducked in there!”

“You go in, I’ll go around back just in case!” You break off and skirt the building, finding the back door. You press your back to the wall directly next to the door and wait, chest heaving from the exertion. 

It’s quiet for a full minute before you hear footsteps thundering through the room behind you. Steadying yourself, you prepare for the door to burst open. As it does, you stick your leg out and trip Jafan, sending him tumbling to the ground in front of you. You jump onto him, pinning his arms under your knees. “Gotcha.”

He stops struggling under your body and looks up at your face. Panting, he wiggles his eyebrows before saying, “Yes you did, gorgeous. Why am I feeling so lucky right now?”

You don’t respond, even though you desperately wish you could unhear the connotation of “lucky”. Pulling a pair of cuffs from your belt, you slide off his arms but keep your weight on his torso enough to keep him pinned while flipping him to his stomach. You snap the cuffs onto his wrists as Din stumbles out of the door behind you. 

“You okay?” you ask over your shoulder, standing and yanking Jafan up with you. 

Din nods, “Our friend here jumped me in the storage room back there. Got a cheap shot at my head.”

Jafan laughs, “Oh come on, that was clever of me! I got one up on a Mandalorian, I’m going to tell this story forever!”

“You’re awfully cheery for someone who just got nabbed after being on the run for almost a year.” You’re talking to Jafan but keeping an eye on Din as you make your way back to the Crest. He’s still wobbling a little bit and it’s making you nervous.

“You’re such a spoil sport,” Jafan pouts, kicking a rock in front of him. 

Navigating the streets of Dac City is easier in the late afternoon, binary suns shining down on the glistening buildings. You pull Jafan along, not paying attention to his rambling but rather closely watching Din’s movements. Once you get back to the Crest, you have him walk you through the carbon freezer’s buttons and load Jafan in. Normally, you would’ve asked Din to just chain him to a rail or something, but you were much more preoccupied with making sure that “cheap shot” Jafan got on Din wasn’t something more serious. 

Once all that is done, you round on Din. “Alright, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he waves your concern away and tries to climb the ladder, only to miss the first rung and slam his foot into the ground. 

“Din, come on. This isn’t normal.” A knot begins to form in your stomach. If it’s a head injury, he’s not going to let me help him take care of it…

He straightens up and turns to look at you, hand still gripping the side rail. “Okay, maybe I’m a little shaken up but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Marching over to him, you take his hand and pull him toward the fresher. “You’re going to go in there, take your helmet off, and walk me through what you see. I’ll help you take care of it from this side of the door.” You push him through the doorway and slide the door shut. “Well? I’m waiting, Mr. Djarin.”

You hear the hiss of his helmet coming off and the clunk of it being set on the small sink. “I don’t see anything.”

“Run your hand gently over the part of your head Jafan hit. Anything tender or bleeding?”

“Lots of places are tender, he hit me over the head with a plank of wood.”

“Okay, fair. What about blood?”

“I don’t think…” His sentence drifts off and he’s quiet for a moment before…

Thud.

“Din?” You ask, stepping closer to the door. “Din, everything okay?” It’s too quiet and your blood turns cold. There’s nothing you can do; his helmet is off in there and he definitely just passed out. If he has a concussion or something’s broken… You had to get in there. 

Opening the door, you squeeze your eyes shut and fumble for the light switch. “Din, I’m going to turn off the light and come in, okay?” 

Still no response. You finally find the switch, plunging the room into darkness. Remembering the light coming in from the cargo hold, you rush to turn that off as well and stumble your way back to your unconscious Mandalorian. 

Sliding to the floor, you crawl to his prone form and cradle his head in your lap. “Din? Din I need you to wake up.”

His silence has become comforting, but not like this. This silence only promises pain and fear, not contemplation and companionship. Your hands are featherlight on his head as you search for the wound. No bleeding, thank the Maker, but there is a spot along the back of his head that is incredibly soft. You’re sure the scalp is bruised, already purple and blue, and there’s a chance his skull might have fractured. The fear bubbling up in you almost overwhelms you as you whisper, “Din, I’m going to try some of that bacta stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You’re sure he can’t hear you, but talking through the steps helps you focus. First, get the first aid pack. Second, find the tube of bacta. Third, find your way blindly back to the fresher. Fourth, open the tube and smear it on his head. Fifth… Wait for something to happen.

So you wait. You sit in the dark with his head on your lap, stroking his hair and murmuring quietly to him. His hair is curly, something you never thought about, but as you sit there with him so close to you, you begin to imagine what he looks like. You know about the curly hair now, and you add that to the tan skin and stubble you vaguely remember seeing when he was carrying you back to the ship after Zena’s attack. You imagine his eyes are brown, depthless and warm. Maybe he even has little smile lines around them? You shake your head and focus on humming the lullaby you mom used to sing to you when you were sick. 

After a couple choruses, Din starts to rouse. A groan slips from him and you stop humming with a gasp. “Don’t sit up, you gotta let the bacta work.”

He obeys, laying back down and sighing. “What happened?”

“You passed out. I’m so sorry, I had to come in and make sure you were okay. All the lights are off and I swear, I didn’t see anything.”

“It’s okay, Cuyan,” he pats your knee behind his head, “You did everything right.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so,” he adjusts slightly in your lap, “I think the bacta’s working.”

“Can you stand?”

You feel him nod and help him slowly sit up. Taking it a step at a time, Din finally manages to get fully standing. The room is still pitch black and you suddenly realize just how close you are to each other. 

“I’m gonna check on your wound, okay?” you warn him, reaching up. You find he’s facing you, so you gently ghost your fingers around the crown of his head until you find the batca covered patch of hair. It has only been a few minutes, but the swelling has already gone down and isn’t radiating heat the way it was before. With a sigh of relief, you pull away. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks to you,” Din responds, voice low. He catches your hands as they leave his head and gives them a squeeze. “I’m not used to knowing someone has my back.”

“Well get used to it, Mandalorian.” Without thinking, you stand on tiptoe and place a kiss on his cheek, a friendly gesture you picked up from your mother. You let go of his hands and head for the cargo hold to give him space to clean up. 

Relief paints the rest of the evening in a much needed calm. Din goes to bed early, which makes sense after the events of the afternoon, and you’re left to your own thoughts in the quiet of the Crest. You find yourself in the cockpit, using the height of your dock to your advantage to study Dac City. It’s more beautiful at night than it is in the daytime; the glittering of the lights on the waves around the city is mesmerizing. 

While you watch, your mind drifts to the events of the last few weeks. The one thing that comes up over and over again is the nickname Din has started calling you, Cuyan. What does it mean? You’re sure it isn’t anything bad or degrading, but it’s maddening to not know what it means. If you could just find the context… 

After mulling over the word for another few minutes, you decide to give your mind a break and lean into the pilot’s chair you commandeered for the evening. You’ve seen Din sit in it hundreds of times by now, but realized when you came up and started settling into your normal chair that you had never sat in it so you took the opportunity. It’s surprisingly comfortable. You imagine Din in it, turning to look at you while you read off a target’s information. You can see him flying the Crest, hands deftly pressing buttons and flipping switches before gently pulling the control for the jump to hyperspace. Another memory pops into your head of him in this room, but this time behind the chair, another figure kneeling in front of him…

Your eyes fly open and you try to fill your mind with any other view. The glowing buttons, the waves, the people still loitering in the streets below, anything but your intrusion on his privacy. You try to summon images of your adventures today, but you feel your cheeks heat and tears sting your eyes at the idea of him with someone else. 

But why? You don’t mean anything romantic to each other. Sure, you feel more safe with him than you’ve felt in your entire life. Even running through streets of unknown cities with him, even after being stabbed chasing a bounty, his presence is still one of security for you. And sure, you’ve felt jolts here and there of something more than friendship. The way it felt to have his finger hooked under your chin, him carrying you to your cot after too much to drink, the spark that ignites in your heart whenever he says your name, but does that mean anything? 

No. It couldn’t mean anything. He had someone, you had seen it with your own eyes. There’s nothing you may or may not feel that he’d ever reciprocate and the sooner you realized that, the better. No sense in admitting any sort of feelings when any relationship you might daydream would be dead on arrival in reality.

What started as a calm evening ends as emotionally choppy as the water below you. You’d been so focused on starting this new life and forgetting Arlon that you didn’t notice Din sneaking his way into unnoticed spaces in your heart. For the first time in weeks, you curl into yourself and cry yourself dry, falling asleep in the Crest’s pilot’s chair.

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[aalissy]

Winter Storms and Hot Chocolate

Whew, I'm finally getting another one-shot posted hehe. And it's about Adrienette too!! I love these two dorks soo muchhh <3. I hope you guys like them too :). Lemme know what you think! A sleepy, cuddly Marinette is my fave hehe

AO3

Marinette stood at the door of the bakery, glaring at the snow that was quickly transforming into a fierce blizzard. Turning her phone on, she checked the weather, groaning to herself when she saw that a freak snowstorm was set to happen today.

Marinette bid her parents goodbye with a quick glance over her shoulder before ducking out of the shop. She shivered as soon as she got one foot out the door, the vicious cold already making her wish she was back at home in the warm, comfortable bakery. With a small whimper, she continued down her path, determined to make it to her favorite fabric store. 

The terrible weather had affected her much more since becoming Ladybug and even waking up this morning took her years. Marinette had barely registered the sound of the blaring alarm and needed Tikki to shout at her in order to wake up. Practically stumbling out of her bed, she bundled up into thick fleece, itchy wool, and layers of cotton. Even still, it did little to help the drowsiness coursing through her bones.

Just one second. Let me close my eyes for just a second. I’m only going straight for the next few metres. It’s okay, Marinette thought to herself as the time between her blinks grew longer and longer. She barely realized it when she was walking down the street with her eyes closed. Suddenly, her eyes flew back open when she crashed directly into someone’s chest, the both of them letting out a startled groan. The only reason the two of them were standing upright and hadn’t fallen into a heap on the ground was because of the warm—and welcomingly familiar—grip the person had on her shoulders.

“Marinette?” asked a smooth and recognizable voice. “Are you alright?”

She looked up in surprise, seeing blonde hair and brilliant, green eyes. Her brain worked furiously for a moment, her forehead scrunching as she tried to focus on the boy in front of her. “A-Adrien?” Marinette asked after a few moments of thinking.

“Yeah,” his head tilted curiously. “You look exhausted. Are you trying to get home?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I just left actually. I’m trying to get to the fabric store to get some new stuff for your guys’ Christmas presents.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed as he looked down at her. Eventually, he sighed lightly, throwing an arm around her shoulder as he began leading the two of them somewhere. “Come on, let’s go and get you warmed up first,” he said with a worried smile. “You shouldn’t be stumbling around in the cold like this.”

“Mmm, has anyone ever told you how warm you are?” Marinette murmured blearily, snuggling further into his grasp. The delicious aroma of cinnamon and lavender wafted around her and she squeezed him tighter. 

Buried in his chest as she was, she missed the soft look Adrien gave her. She did hear his deep chuckle, though. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “But no, I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

“They should. You make a really nice pillow,” she smiled happily, barely aware that she was speaking. Adrien gave another hearty laugh but didn’t respond. 

The two walked in silence for a few more moments, Marinette’s eyes closing fully as she let her crush guide her along, relaxing into his hold. It wasn’t until she heard the sound of a tinkling bell that her eyes were able to open again. She was surprised and greeted by the warm atmosphere of a café. A small smile spread across her face as she took in the welcoming aroma of delicious coffee and hot chocolate. She felt Adrien gesture her forward. 

“After you,” he smiled.

Walking into the cozy building, the designer finally felt a little bit more awake. Stopping suddenly inside the entrance, she snuck a peek back behind her. The model was still standing there, smiling gently at her. Her gaze snapped back forward again, her cheeks flushing a bright red. 

Oh my god, so this isn’t a dream, then? I actually bumped into Adrien and told him he made a good pillow?! No, no, this can’t be happening!! 

Pulling on her pigtails once, Marinette quickly took a seat by the window, gnawing on her lip as she stared out into the snowy world that taunted her. Gulping quietly, she peeked up at Adrien from beneath her lashes as he slid into the seat across from her. He peered back at her, a look of concern on his face. “Are you alright, Marinette?” he asked. "You looked really tired today. Are you sick?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just sleepy. Winter is really not my season.” She gave him what she hoped was a wide, reassuring smile.

“Is that why you keep falling asleep in class then?” he teased her, his green eyes shimmering playfully.

Marinette’s cheeks darkened and she ducked her head shyly. “Maybe,” she giggled nervously before tapping her index fingers together.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Adrien grinned softly back at her. “I actually know someone else who doesn’t do too well in the cold.”

“Y-you do?” she tilted her head as she looked at him curiously.

“Yeah,” his gaze drifted away from her and out the window as he nodded his head slowly. “One of my best friends absolutely hates the snow.”

“Nino hates the snow, really?” Marinette blinked at him a few times. “I had no idea.”

Adrien chuckled at her, shaking his head, “No, no, not Nino. Nino actually loves the snow. He says it helps his creative process.”

“Yuck, really?” she asked, scrunching her nose at the thought. “I barely get anything done during wintertime. I’m too sluggish.”

“My friend says the same thing!” he exclaimed, eyes brightening as he looked back at her. “She moves so slowly and says that you’re meant to stay at home, buried deep under the covers whenever it starts snowing.”

“Your friend is smart,” Marinette giggled. “I’ve said that exact same thing before.”

Her thoughts drifted back to her partner. Chat Noir was there during the cold, windy nights where she had to brave the winter weather for patrol. He was always equipped with two cups of hot chocolate and a blanket that they shared to warm up before heading off to watch the city. 

With a quiet, happy sigh, Marinette was suddenly hit by a large craving for the hot chocolate Chat always brought for her. So, when their waiter finally arrived, she chirped out her order cheerfully, “One hot chocolate please.”

She was somewhat surprised, however, when Adrien ordered the same thing as her. “I’ll take a hot chocolate too,” he said. “Ooh, and with extra marshmallows, please!”

Marinette’s lips twitched into a small smile. That was similar to her partner too. He always had a large pile of the delicious dessert in his drink. Raising a curious eyebrow at him, she spoke up, “You like marshmallows then?”

“Oh definitely,” Adrien grinned back at her. “They’re delicious! And hot chocolate with marshmallows is the best drink during winter!”

She giggled quietly at him, “Hot chocolate is my favorite too! It completely warms you up when it’s cold! Especially when it’s snowing like today!”

Adrien opened his mouth to speak but was stopped as their drinks reached the table. Marinette smiled thankfully at their waiter before sipping on the delicious beverage. Any last remaining chill that she had been feeling immediately evaporated upon a sip of the hot chocolate. She hummed, taking another large gulp before grinning up at the boy across from her, “Are your marshmallows good?”

“They’re perfect!” he grinned back at her.

There the two sat in the small, warm café, chatting about the latest schoolwork and updates to their favorite game. They both sipped gradually on their drinks, almost as if neither of them wanted to leave. Marinette even congratulated herself over how well she was handling the conversation with her long-time crush. Eventually, though, her gaze was drawn over to her phone where she gasped at the time. She needed to get back soon! She still had homework due later today!

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she said as she scrambled for her purse in a panic. “I lost track of time! I need to get home and I still don’t have any of the material I need! I’ve gotta go!”

“It’s okay, I’ll walk you,” he waved their waiter back over who he handed a few Euros over to.

“Oh no, no! It’s okay! I can pay for my half at least,” Marinette frowned over at him.

Adrien merely gave her a reassuring smile, shaking his head, “No, it’s fine. I dragged you in here so the least I can do is pay for your hot chocolate. Consider it an early Christmas gift,” he winked at her.

Turning a bright shade of pink, Marinette gulped quietly, trying to ignore the implications that this was a date. “O-ok,” she stuttered slightly as she stood up. “B-but you don’t have to walk me over. I’ll be fine by myself, really.”

“It’s no problem, Marinette! I don’t have anywhere else to be and I don’t want you passing out in the middle of a street,” he teased her.

Her blush darkened as she mumbled, “Okay.”

After that was decided, they walked to the front entrance, with Marinette taking a big gulp of air before heading out into the cold winter storm. Almost instantly, the warmth that she had gained from the café left her. Yawning quietly, she nuzzled into Adrien’s side, enjoying the heat it granted her. He leaned down to talk to her, causing his warm breath to brush against her ear, “Where are we going, Marinette?”

“Huh?” she blinked up at him slowly before her eyes widened in realization and she looked around. “O-oh, we should take a left here, and then it should be straight ahead.”

“Got it,” he murmured back at her before taking her hand in his. Her blue eyes shot open at that, looking up at him confusedly with a deep, red blush. Adrien merely shrugged at her, winking again. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

“R-right,” Marinette gulped, turning away from his glimmering eyes to look at their surroundings. Shivering as another cold snowflake hit her face, she clutched Adrien’s hand like a lifeline, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief when they finally spotted the fabric store. When they entered the building, she let go of his hand to instead point a finger at him. Ignoring the feeling of loss she felt as her hand left his warm grasp, she spoke sharply, “No peeking! I don’t want you guessing what your gift is!”

“I understand, Marinette,” Adrien chuckled, grinning down at her.

Shooting him one last suspicious glance, she turned to look at the rows of fabric in the store. Quickly, she pulled out three different colors for her friends, deciding on orange for Alya, dark green for Nino, and a bright red for Adrien. Marinette headed up to the front counter to pay for the three fabrics with a quiet, frustrated breath. 

With them safely tucked into a bag and away from enquiring eyes, she looked around for Adrien. She eventually found him looking at a row of fabric, awe clear in his eyes. Clearing her throat, she stepped toward him. “Are you ready to go Adrien?”

“Yeah,” he snapped out of his daze and brought his gaze over to her before shaking his head with wonder. “I just don’t know how you do it, Marinette. How you turn this into beautiful clothes. You’re amazing.”

“O-oh thank you,” Marinette blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “I-it’s just years of practice, I guess. I was pretty bad when I started out.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Adrien said as he came over to take her hand once again. Together they walked to the front of the store. “Are we heading to the bakery now, or did you have another errand to run?”

She shook her head quickly. “N-no, I’m going home now. B-but, Adrien, you don’t have to walk me there. You’ve done a lot for me already. Seriously, thank you! I don’t want to take up the rest of your night.” “I already told you that it’s fine, Marinette. I want to make sure you get home safely. Besides, I could really go for a croissant right now,” he beamed down at her before pushing the door open. Groaning as the wind blew against her face, Marinette instantly turned to Adrien for some form of warmth. Her crush chuckled softly before murmuring, “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Her heart practically flip-flopped at that, butterflies erupting in her stomach. She glanced up at him to give him a soft smile, mouthing thank you at him. Why does he have to be so cute? It’s just not fair, she practically whined in her thoughts. 

With her nestled into his side as she was, Marinette barely noticed when they finally arrived back at the bakery. She only realized she was home after Adrien leaned down to whisper to her, “We’re here.”

“We are?” She peeled an eye open that she didn’t even remember closing. Slowly, they both blinked open as she realized that they were, in fact, at the entrance to the bakery. “Oh, we are!” she exclaimed.

Adrien chuckled at her before wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. “Thanks for hanging out with me today Marinette. I had a great time.”

“N-no!” she stammered as she hugged him back. “Thank you for hanging out with me! I don’t think I would have made it home without you. Seriously, Adrien thank you .” Marinette leaned up on her tip-toes to brush a kiss against his cheek. Her cheeks flamed as she set back down on the ground, giving him a wide smile.

“It was no problem, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

“W-well at least come inside so you can warm up and I can make you that croissant you wanted.” Her smile widened into a beam as she held the door open for him.

Adrien stepped inside the bakery as she followed after him, happy butterflies dancing in her chest. I’m so glad this wasn’t a dream and I did actually stumble into Adrien! Best day ever! Maybe ... maybe I can confess to him today ...

Chewing on the edge of her lip nervously, she walked towards the boy conversing happily with her parents. He turned around to greet her when she approached with a large, beaming smile. “Hey, Marinette! Your parents made us some croissants! Do you want to head upstairs and eat them with me?”

As his head tilted at her adorably, she felt her heart thump rapidly in her chest. Sucking in a deep breath for courage, she nodded. “S-sure, Adrien. That would be great!”

“Cool!” he said with a boyish grin, taking her hand in his as he tugged her up the stairs.

Barely stifling a quiet squeak, Marinette let Adrien guide her upstairs, briefly catching a glimpse of her parents’ knowing smiles. He let go of her hand when they entered the living room, sitting on her couch and patting the spot next to him. 

Giving Adrien a shy smile, she settled down by him, avoiding his glimmering, emerald green eyes. Her hands tore into her croissant as she tried to summon every last ounce of bravery she had. Come on, Marinette! You can do this! I believe in you , she thought to herself determinedly.

Turning to Adrien with one last deep gulp of air, she blurted out almost in perfect unison with him, “I have something to tell you!”

The two blinked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. In between giggles, Marinette wheezed out, “Y-you go first.”

Adrien gave a small but decisive nod before he leaned in closer to her. His eyes seemed to scan their surroundings warily before he looked back at her seriously, a hint of fear and worry dancing in his gaze. Slowly, his hand came up to cover hers, giving it a soft squeeze. Marinette gulped once nervously before he cleared his throat and stuttered out, “I-I know who you are.”

A deep frown creased her brow. “What?”

“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear ! It all happened so quickly! One second I had detransformed and was about to leave when you came barreling in! And I tried to hide, really I did! I hid behind a dumpster and covered my eyes but then your kwami said your name and then I guess I just knew,” Adrien spoke quickly, his eyes searching her gaze hopefully. 

Marinette sat frozen on the couch, her mouth wide open in horror. Trembling slightly, she stuttered out, “A-Adrien, I-I don’t understand. W-what are you talking about?! A kwami ... what’s that?”

“It’s okay, Marinette. You can trust me,” he said with a small, anxious smile, “Besides, I know you know what a kwami is because you were once Multimouse.”

“Multimouse,” she frowned at him, “But you weren’t... wait!”

She gasped in shock as Adrien merely nodded his head at her. “At your service, m’Lady.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot!” Marinette shrieked at him, “We’re not supposed to know our secret identities.”

“I know and I’m sorry but I mmph—!” She cut Adrien off with a passionate kiss, relaxing as he melted into their embrace. 

Eventually, she pulled back, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. “That was what I wanted to tell you, by the way.”

“Wha ... huh?!” Adrien blinked down at her dumbly.

Marinette giggled shyly, rolling her eyes, “I wanted to say that I love you, Adrien. Ever since you handed me that umbrella, I’ve been yours.”

A slow, wide smile stretched across his face before he hugged her tightly to his chest. Adrien connected their lips together once more before breathing out, “I love you too, Marinette.”

[the-elemental-sides]

The Elemental Sides: Chapter 8

Urban fantasy AU: The Sides are four spirits trapped in an amulet. When Thomas finds it and puts it on, he gains the powers of the four elements…or that’s what should have happened, but mistakes were made. Now the Sides have to coach him in their respective elements while Thomas deals with both his new powers and his ability to see into the magical realm. Not only is magic real, but there’s some pretty intimidating stuff out there, and only Thomas and the Sides have the power to stop it.

A/N: It is here! Chapter 8, my favorite number! It’s been about a year since the creation of this blog + the very first chapter of TES. Thanks so much for sticking with me. May this story be finished by 2020!

Taglist: @shinylyni, @hissesssss, @vexation-virgil, @madd-catter, @rptheturk, @nienna14, @ryuity, @asofterfan, @robanilla, @k9cat, @ab-artist, @absoluteamethyst, @a-box-o-jills, @captain-loki-xavier, @lynisnotamused, @literally-just-for-fanfics, @alix-the-skeleton, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lunareclipse-524

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

*** Thomas and Roman, spirits, faced off in the middle of his living room.

“No hitting,” warned Patton. He paused. “Okay, that’s the only rule. Go wild, kids!”

They moved at the same time. Thomas’ hand burst into flame, but it was literally sucked out of his grasp by Roman and thrown back into his face. Since it was translucent, the fire passed through him harmlessly and splashed against the far wall.

“Point to Roman,” Logan said to the book in his hands. He marked a tally on Roman’s side of the chalkboard, but it ended up sideways because he wasn’t looking at what he was doing.

“Three weeks and I haven’t gotten a single point,” groaned Thomas. “Against any of you!”

“It’s about more than just who can fire the first shot, cowboy,” said Roman. “It’s about willpower! You have to really control your powers, not just summon them.”

“Okay.” Thomas swept his hair out of his face, vaguely wondering how Virgil could stand having bangs in his eyes all the time. “Can I try again?”

“More like you can try, again. Patton, count us off!”

“Three-two-one-fight!”

This time, Thomas was a little more prepared. He waited for Roman to pitch the first fireball before catching it from midair and chucking it back. The fire flew back and forth between them before Roman caught it and extinguished the flame.

“That’s cheating!” Thomas protested.

“I think not! I was just getting bored.”

“Boo, lame.”

“I agree, point to Thomas,” said Logan, marking the board.

Thomas fist-pumped while Roman protested. “I was just playing around. Look! More fire! I can keep going.”

“Actually, you should be done for the day,” Virgil interrupted. “I don’t want Thomas to run out of energy. He promised he’d practice water today, too.”

“Aw, but we’re on a roll!”

“No, he’s right,” Thomas agreed. “I’m kind of falling behind with water.”

“No such problems with earth, because I am the best teacher,” Logan muttered into his book.

Roman turned on him. “Are not!”

“Completely am.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but Thomas is pretty darn good with my air powers, considering he’s an Earthbender,” Patton remarked. (He’d finally caught up with Avatar and had completely bought into how they handled elemental powers in the series.) “So maybe he’s just natur-air-ly talented?”

“You’re impossible.”

In the weeks since he’d fought his first shadow monster, Thomas had had a lot of adjusting to do. While he was capable of destroying the smaller shadows when he came across them on busy streets, in buildings, and even in his own apartment, the Sides continued to coach him. They didn’t want another close call like they’d had with that big one in the grocery store.

It didn’t feel like he was making much of a difference, but the Sides applauded him every time he destroyed one of the little bad-vibe blobs. They were even thrilled every time he showed that he was improving with their powers. He couldn’t see any tangible difference in the world around him, but through their encouragement Thomas did start to feel a little like he was becoming a hero.

Meanwhile, besides the Sides, life continued as usual. Thomas was working just as hard on his videos. He was hard at work on his second episode of Cartoon Therapy–which was, of course, based off Avatar.

The first time he showed up to the space they’d rented, already in his Picani garb, Joan gave him a weird look when they met him at the door. “You’re still wearing that necklace?”

Thomas looked down at the crystal. Being huge and sparkly, it was difficult not to notice and impossible to hide under a shirt. “Oh, yeah, guess I am.”

“I mean, wear whatever, dude. But I don’t get what it has to do with Picani.”

“No, you’re right, I’ll take it off.” Thomas reached for the chain. Of course he had to take the crystal off sometimes, for showering and stuff, but the Sides always hated it when they were forced back in the crystal for a while. When he wasn’t in direct contact with it, they couldn’t keep up their mind palace and all the other cool amenities they’d built inside. They had to go back to the dreamless state that Logan explained they’d existed in for the last fifteen years.

He waited a beat just to make sure he had their permission. Roman, acting emissary, appeared. He simultaneously gave Thomas a thumbs down, shrugged, and stuck his tongue out: we don’t like it, but you do what you need. Thomas tugged the crystal off and felt a little lonely when their presences disappeared from the back of his head. After that, the filming session went fine.

Between managing his YouTube career, finding time for his friends, and practicing his steadily improving magic powers on unsuspecting shadow blobs, Thomas was busier than ever. So it surprised him when Patton started egging him to take a vacation.

“Now? Really?”

“Sure, kiddo! Don’t you deserve a mental health day?”

“I’m fine,” Thomas said with a frown. “I mean, I’m holding up okay…”

“He’s right, actually,” Logan said, popping into view in Thomas’ chair (Thomas and Patton were currently in the kitchen trying to cook up some Indian food, and it was going poorly). “We’ve been discussing this. While I agree it’s important to keep your mental state functioning properly, the purpose of this vacation would also be to allow your to exercise your powers in ways you might be less familiar wi–Patton, watch out!”

“Oops!” Patton had thrown a handful of curry leaves into a pan on the stove, which was filled with oil sizzling at max heat. It immediately burst into flames.

On instinct, Patton dodged in front of Thomas and shot a blast of air at the smoking pan. It did nothing but spatter oil droplets all over the table and Logan, who was unamused. Thomas put out the fire by scooping it up in his hands and extinguishing it.

“...Oops.”

“Patton, honestly. How did you ever feed yourself?”

“I get the feeling it involved a lot of ice cream for dinner!”

“Whew.” Thomas exhaled. Fire was actually a lot less scary when you could just kind of...erase it.

“As I was saying,” Logan said in a clipped voice, “by ‘vacation,’ we’re not telling you to hang around at home in your pajamas for three days. No, what we’re suggesting is that you go learn some history....about the origin of your powers.”

“Wow! I could do that?”

“Well, of course. Where do you think we got the crystal?”

“I have no idea! Where?”

Logan paused. “...We don’t know either. Our time in the crystal left our memories, ah, spotty. Some vital details such as this have been lost. However, Virgil, who tends to remember these things best, has an inkling of where exactly he obtained it.”

“That’s right,” Virgil said, appearing–and sitting on the table, but luckily his butt was a ghost at the moment anyway. He glared at Patton. “And jeez, Pat, were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Oi’l be more careful next time!”

“Pretending I didn’t hear that. Thomas, here’s what I remember. When we, uh. When we decided to test the whole crystal thing, we knew we needed a good one, obviously. We got our powers and then we started searching around for something, some kind of gem, that matched the parameters Logan laid out.”

“Robust. Undamaged. Prismatic. Sensitive to magic—by that, we mean whether it reacted when placed in certain stress simulations involving the shadows.”

“Uh, yeah. So I found a good one in this one super goth back-alley jewelry store–”

Thomas gasped. “Borgin and Burkes?!”

“No? I don’t know what that is? Look, anyway, I found a good one,  s–uhh, I stole it–”

“WHAT”

“–and brought it back to everyone else.”

“You STOLE it?” Patton cried. “But that’s totally against why we wanted it in the first place! Fighting evil! Remember?”

“I know. But the alternative worried me more.”

“Well, I’m not really happy about that, sport, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. Maybe they won the lottery in the last fifteen years and got their money back…?”

“Virgil, do you recall the name and location of this place?” Logan asked.

“Can’t say I do. Well–I think it was near Florida. I remember driving for a while during the night. There was a lot of fog….I could sort of tune into it with my powers, so I could sense the surrounding area. Something was near me, like a big, dark cold spot. It might’ve been a shadow, but bigger than one I’ve ever seen.” He shuddered. “I had to get away from it, so I turned off the highway, drove for a while, stopped at a gas station, and...there it was.”

“Well, that’s vague,” Thomas mused.

“Do you think that we’d be able to recreate your path if Thomas were to search for it?”

“Uh….maybe? It’s possible?”

“That’s sufficient enough for me,” Logan declared. “All right, Thomas, the parameters of your vacation are this. You are to find the location and source of this crystal and interrogate the owners of the establishment for information.”

“Information like….”

“Well, whether there’s a way to expedite your learning process. Whether we can get out of this crystal. Perhaps we can find a way for all four of us to assume solid form without damaging you.”

“And this involves a lot of driving…” Thomas said to himself. “So, if this is really important to you guys, it sounds like we’re going on a–”

“ROAD TRIP!” Patton hollered, throwing up his arms and upturning the pan on the stove, which had been steadily burning their dinner to a crisp the entire time. Oil, curry, chicken, and the whole mess slopped onto the stove and promptly exploded in a shower of hot oil.

“...road trip.”

“PATTON!”

***

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing

Another part on Tuesday as promised!

When Nat, Jim, and Sir Stephen stepped into the glow of the headlights, the others were momentarily surprised and then audibly relieved, as if they all went whew in perfect unison.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Sharon burst out.  “When we realized he’d gone poof I was terrified it was you!”

Jim had stopped to stare at the pile of clothing and ashes, as if trying to figure out what it was, and Nat realized – he didn’t know.  He’d heard them talk about the homunculi dying, but he’d never seen it, and nobody had described it to him.  He slowly turned his head to look at Sharon, his expression confused.

“Gone… poof?” he asked.

Was there any way to put this tactfully?  “When a homunculus dies,” Nat said.  “When something hurts them badly enough or when they get a blow to the neck, like Neustadt described, they sort of crumble.”  She made a hand motion to suggest something falling apart.  “They just turn to dust.”

Jim reached down to pick up the thief’s shirt.  This disturbed the dust, and some of it flew up into his face.  He coughed a couple of times, then abruptly dropped the clothing, staggered to the edge of the road, and retched.  He was so unsteady on his feet that he looked like he might fall head over teakettle down the hillside, himself, so Nat ran up to pull him back.

“Don’t fall!” she said.

He stumbled backwards a couple of steps, wiping his mouth, and sat down right in the middle of the road.  Allen came up with a bottle of water, which Nat took from him and passed on to Jim so he could rinse his mouth out.

“Is that what’s gonna happen to me?  When my… when my time’s up?” Jim asked.

They could have lied to him.  It would probably have been kinder, but Nat figured if there was one thing she should have learned from their previous adventure is was that the truth was always best even when it hurt.  “Probably,” she said.  “They don’t leave a body like regular people do.  They just fall apart.”

Jim swished some water around in his mouth and spat it out, then just sat there, staring blankly out across the Thira caldera.  The ocean glittered in the moonlight.

“We should go,” said Sharon.

“If I get up, I’m going to be sick,” said Jim.

Nat crouched next to him and put a hand on the back of his neck.  “Head between your knees,” she said, gently pushing it down.  “It’ll force blood to the brain.”  Or at least, it would force cells imitating red blood cells to the ones imitating neurons. Either way, it ought to help.  He obeyed, and she patted his back gently, the way Allen had done for her the other night.  Whether she was doing it because she honestly felt sorry for him, or still because she just didn’t want Allen to father somebody else when she wasn’t letting him father her, she couldn’t tell anymore.

“Any better?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Jim mumbled.

They ended up sitting there for the better part of half an hour, while Jim trembled softly and took deep breaths, trying not to break down emotionally. Finally he grabbed the van’s fender and got to his feet as if it were the most difficult thing in the world.

“Better?” Nat asked again.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard.  “Maybe.  I don’t know. Let’s get out of here.”

They needed to leave the island before their theft was discovered – the servants would doubtless have heard something of the fight between Nat and the thief, and when they found the Newton notebooks missing they would make the obvious connection.  They were not sure as yet, though, where they ought to go next, so they parked near the airport and found, on the edge of a nearby property, an unfinished building.  The structure had support pillars in place at the corners of the rooms and it already bore one of Santorini’s trademark barrel roofs, but no walls as yet.  It made it look, Nat decided like something a child might build out of popsicle sticks and toilet paper rolls.

Sharon pulled the van up next to this, in a place where a piece of stone wall and a scraggly olive tree would hide them from view of people on the road, and parked.  Then Sam, who was sitting in the passenger-side seat next to her, turned to talk to the others.

“Jim,” he said.

“Yeah?” Jim asked.  His voice was still trembling.

“Those three flasks Madame Desrosiers left for you,” Sam said.  “I need one of them.”

The flasks were in a bag in the boot – but Jim crossed his arms over his chest as if to clutch them to himself.  “What for?” he asked.  He wasn’t angry, Nat observed.  He was scared.  Taking one of those flasks away would get him that much closer to the final disintegration.

“For the falcon,” Sam said.  “Her left humerus is shattered and the only other way to fix it is immediate surgery. That would kill her even if I had any anesthetic, which I don’t.”

“What about me?” Jim asked plaintively.

“I only need a little bit,” said Sam.  “She’s a small bird.”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly open, Jim looked around at his fellow passengers. Was he looking for somebody to argue with Sam for him?  If so, he didn’t find it – nobody said a word.  Nat supposed she could have objected that the bird was only an animal… but then, it could be argued in turn that Jim was only a construct whose lifetime was already going to be short.  Somebody could point out that, as Sam had already said, the bird wouldn’t need much… but they didn’t know how this stuff worked.  A little bit might be enough to tip the scale somehow.

“Please,” said Sam quietly.  “I sent her in there.  I gotta help her, now, and this is the only way I can do it.  I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Jim lowered his head.  “All right, take some,” he said.  “Just a little.”

“Thanks.”  Sam reached back to grab Jim’s shoulder.  “Thanks, man.”

“Just get on with it, before I change my mind,” Jim said miserably.

While the others stood around and watched, Sam spread out a shirt on the ground and laid the injured falcon on top of it.  He arranged its wing as best he could, and by the beam of a flashlight Nat could see blood in the feathers and splintered bone poking through the skin. The bird made a soft croaking noise, a cry of pain from a creature too weak to cry out with any volume.  Natasha had always found sympathy for animals easier than for people, and her heart did go out to it.

Jim unscrewed the top of one of Desrosiers’ flasks and gave it to Sam, who poured out a couple of drops of the thick liquid within.  In the dark it was hard to see, but Nat could have sworn she saw the colourless elixir turning to bone, to skin, and to feathers in front of her eyes.  It took a couple of minutes, too slow to really watch but obvious as soon as she looked away and then back again.  Then the startled bird got unsteadily to its feet.  It stretched its wings and flapped them a couple of times, as if testing, but folded them again without taking off.

With a sigh of relief, Sam reached out to scratch the top of its head.  “You hang out,” he told the bird fondly.  “We’ll look after you until we know for sure you’re better.”

Clint was shaking his head.  “Wow,” he said.  “No wonder I was confused.”

With that done, they all settled down in the sleeping bags they’d brought for just this sort of situation.  The little falcon curled up by Sam’s head, like a dog or cat.  Everybody was exhausted and most of them nodded off quickly – but Nat woke up after an hour or so and when she opened her eyes, she found Jim’s sleeping bag was empty.  He was sitting on the edge of the building’s foundation a couple of metres away, staring up at the stars as if contemplating his place in a big, cold universe.  She wondered if she should get up and talk to him again, but she did not.

The sun began to show at around six thirty in the morning, which meant nobody was able to sleep much past them.  They all woke stiff from sleeping on the concrete, but the foundation floor had also held the Mediterranean heat through the night, so at least they weren’t cold.

“What’s for breakfast?” yawned Clint.

“Breakfast?  What breakfast?” Sharon asked.  She sat up and stretched, then turned to give Sir Stephen a shake.  “Come on, Steve.  We’ve gotta figure out where we’re going next.”

Sam was already awake and seemed to have been so for some time.  He’d wrapped extra cloth around his arm so the little falcon could perch there without scratching him, and was stroking its head and neck and talking to it.

“You did a really good job,” he whispered.  “You were very brave.”

Once they’d collected themselves, they decided to avoid Emporio for now and instead headed for the island’s largest town, Fira, where they figured they were less likely to be recognized.  Fira was host to several times as many tourists as actual inhabitants, and like in Athens, they were already out in droves, trying to take in the island’s attractions before the day got too hot.

“Why do people want to come here?” Clint wondered aloud, as they made their way through the narrow, meandering streets, between rows of shops and restaurants. “This is a rock.  There’s nothing here.”

“I think that might be the appeal,” said Nat.  “It’s isolated, it never rains, and the whole place is built around the tourist trade.  It’s like a cruise ship that never goes anywhere.”

“And has no air conditioning,” Clint complained, fanning himself.

The servers appeared startled when the group walked into a café for breakfast with the falcon perched on Sam’s shoulder, but nobody commented as they were guided to a table.  A few minutes later a waitress brought them menus.  She smiled shyly at Sam.

“Your bird is very beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks,” Sam nodded.

What’s his name?” the waitress asked.

“It’s a she,” Sam said.  “Her name is…” he glanced at the café sign, which had a blue octopus on it.  “Redwing.”

“I can see she loves you very much,” said the waitress.

Once she left them to look through their menus, Jim looked at the sign, then at Sam, then at the sign again.  “Okay, I give up,” he said.  “Where’d you get Redwing?  For a moment there I was scared you were gonna call her Octopus.”

“Detroit Redwings,” said Sam.  “It’s a hockey team.”

“So nothing to do with the octopus,” said Jim, relieved.

“I didn’t say that,” said Sam.  Natasha snickered, but Sam caught her eye and they silently agreed that neither would clarify.

They ordered their breakfast, and then Allen took out the Newton journals, which he’d had in his backpack.  He handed one to Sir Stephen, one to Natasha, and one to Sharon, each of whom opened one and looked inside.  There was Newton’s signature on the inner front leaf, and on the other side, text in a looping 17th century script.  The old-fashioned handwriting itself was difficult enough to read, but once she started getting a feel for the shapes of the letters, Nat quickly realized that the text was neither English nor Latin.  It was, instead, utter nonsense, an apparently random sequence of letters with no spaces or punctuation.  Some of the ‘words’ looked as if they could be sounded out, but they weren’t in any language Natasha knew.

“Because of course Newton wrote in code,” she said out loud.  She didn’t know why she was even surprised.

[freenewstoday]

New Post has been published on https://freenews.today/2020/12/24/analysis-how-celebs-like-d-nice-and-taylor-swift-lifted-our-spirits-this-year/

Analysis: How celebs like D-Nice and Taylor Swift lifted our spirits this year

This year has been beyond tough, but pop culture came through with a few gifts to lift our weary spirits.

John Krasinski: In the early weeks of the pandemic, Krasinski gave us “Some Good News.”

His homemade “newscast” offered reasons to smile including a mini reunion of “The Office” and a virtual potluck.

It was such a good idea that Krasinski ended up selling the YouTube series to ViacomCBS.

DJ D-Nice: It only makes sense that this hip-hop legend — who got his start with a group called Boogie Down Productions — helped us find our groove.

His Club Quarantine on Instagram Live became THE place to be to dance to the best tunes and also stargaze at all the celebrity names popping into the comments section.

D-Nice has been around since the 1980s, and it’s been great to see a new generation discover him.

Beyoncé: Queen Bey is always a blessing.

She saved her biggest statement for her visual album “Black Is King,” which was praised for its celebration of Blackness.

Brad Pitt: He charmed us with his awards show acceptance speeches, won his first Oscar and gave us something to talk about when he reunited backstage with ex-wife Jennifer Aniston.

Then he made his debut on the HGTV series “Celebrity IOU” before going on to play Dr. Anthony Fauci on “SNL.”

Pitt just made us darn happy this year.

Dolly Parton: Speaking of happiness, Dolly Parton is pure joy.

Who else but Parton could pull off contributing to the development of a groundbreaking Covid-19 vaccine and dropping a new holiday album and a charming Christmas special all in the same year? Oh, she also saved her young costar from getting hit by a car.

We will always love you, Dolly!

For your weekend

Three things to watch:

‘Wonder Woman 1984’

Remember when we used to have lots of superhero blockbusters?

This sequel to the hit 2017 film reunites star Gal Gadot with director Patty Jenkins — and we can’t wait.

In this next chapter, Wonder Woman’s alter ego, Diana Prince, works as a curator at the Smithsonian, in Washington, DC. A mysterious gem kicks off the action.

“Wonder Woman 1984” starts streaming Christmas Day on HBO Max. (CNN and HBO Max are both part of WarnerMedia.)

‘Sylvie’s Love’

Romance and music combine into a sweeping story that captures changing times, a changing culture and the true price of love.

Set in the summer of 1957, an aspiring television producer named Sylvie and a saxophonist named Robert meet and fall for one another. Time and circumstances pull them apart, but years later, they meet again by chance, only to find that while their lives have changed, their feelings for each other remain the same.

The melodrama is now streaming on Amazon Prime.

‘Soul’

This Pixar animated film asks the question “What is it that makes you … YOU?”

“Soul” introduces Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx), a middle-school band teacher who gets the chance of a lifetime to play at the best jazz club in town. But one small misstep takes him from the streets of New York City to The Great Before — a fantastical place where new souls get their personalities, quirks and interests before they go to Earth.

The film starts streaming on Disney+ on Christmas Day.

Two things to listen to:

“Pretty Big Deal with Ashley Graham” features the model and author in lively conversations with celebs, influencers and experts about beauty and culture.

It’s kind of a … wait for it … big deal.

Send the kids from the room with this one.

Demi Moore stars in the erotic podcast series “Dirty Diana,” about a woman with a dying marriage who “secretly runs an erotic website where women reveal their intimate sexual fantasies.

Whew! Talk about heating up your winter!

One thing to talk about:

Mariah Carey has cemented her position as the Queen of Christmas.

This month her perennial holiday hit, “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” returned to the top of the Billboard charts 26 years after its release.

She kicked off the holiday season giving us permission to start celebrating post-Halloween and made our days merry and bright with “Mariah Carey’s Magical Christmas Special” on Apple+.

No one does it bigger and better than her.

Something to sip on

This time around, what I have to offer to sip on is some eggnog, naturally.

Merry Christmas, y’all!

Pop back here next Thursday for all the latest entertainment happenings that matter.

Source

[withabackpackandcamera]

February 16th, 2020

Day 2: Getting My Steps In On A Full Day Out In Hot and Humid Singapore

It was strange to wake up feeling completely awake in the middle of the night. But I guess that’s not strange when I fell asleep mid-afternoon yesterday and slept through the entire night until around 3-4am this morning. I chilled in bed trying to figure out what the plans were for the day and what I was willing to get up and do so early in the morning. I ended up looking at a bunch of websites for an hour or so, starring a bunch of food places to check out during my time here. Around 5:30am, I finally got out of bed with plans to seek out a popular hawker stall for kaya toast, a very breakfast-y thing here in Singapore, before visiting the marina for sunrise. 

By the time I left the hostel, the sky was still dark yet the humidity was still present. Thank goodness the heat had calmed down a bit. I walked to the MRT station and ended up waiting outside its doors for a bit until it actually opened. Once things were good to go, I hopped on the MRT and got off at the very first stop (I was feeling a bit lazy to walk there this morning). After wandering the streets for a few minutes trying to figure out where my Google Maps was taking me, I finally wandered into the hawker center I was looking for: Amoy Street Food Center. The center was pretty empty when I arrived as it was still pretty early. But after roaming through the center for a bit and realizing that the hawker stall had numbers, I finally found Ah Seng (Hai Nam) Coffee, the stall I was looking for for their highly-recommended kaya toast with soft boiled egg breakfast (this place was highly recommended online because of the unique way that the toast is made, which is on a charcoal fire, leaving it with a unique texture and taste compared to other places). I was probably one of their very first customers of the day. And the greatest part about being one of the first is: no heat and no line! The stall was run by an old couple who had probably been running it for a while. The lady quickly took my order, got things going, and before I knew it, my kaya toast and soft boiled eggs were ready! And it was pretty tasty and surprisingly filling. 

After sitting and eating, I walked over to Marina Bay as the sun was rising, which was around 7am. I walked along the waterfront toward Merlion Park and stopped a couple of times for photos of Marina Bay Sands, the iconic hotel located across the marina from Merlion Park. As the sun continued to rise in the sky, I took a quick breather at Merlion Park and watched as people made quick stops to take photos of the iconic Merlion statue before continuing on their way. 

Once my break was over, I continued on around the bay and across Helix Bridge before making a turn to walk along the outside of Gardens By The Bay on the way to Marina Barrage. At this point in the morning, the sky was clear, the sun was high in the sky, and the temperature was climbing. I took in the views at Marina Barrage before making my way through the public part of Gardens By The Bay, where I found Supertree Grove, an iconic spot in Singapore most known for its beautifully-lit supertrees at night. I stopped here briefly to take a look, knowing that I was going to be back later in the evening, before making my way over to Marina Bay Sands to take a quick look inside from the hotel’s sky walk. After a quick peek, I slowly found my way to the closest MRT stop for a ride back to the hostel. 

I stopped by the hostel for a bit to hang out, cool down, and relax before meeting up for an early lunch with Stephanie and Tony, two of Julia and Austen’s ex-pat friends in Singapore. At first, the plan was to meet up and eat at 40 Hands, a western restaurant in Tiong Bahru, but once we met up there, they changed their mind and we ended up eating at Cheng’s @ 27, a nice little Asian restaurant located on the bottom floor of their apartment building. And the food they ordered was tasty! We ordered a vermicelli Singaporean noodle dish, leafy greens, crispy chicken with ginger, crispy pork cubes, and nasi lemak with a cup of cold herbal tea for me. And it was delicious, especially the crispy chicken with ginger! We sat and ate and chatted for a while about all sorts of things, from Singaporean life, their life as academics in Singapore (they are both professors teaching their own classes at the universities here), having babies in Singapore, and having helpers (i.e. servants, housekeepers).

After lunch, we walked and checked out a bookstore in Tiong Bahru just down the road from the restaurant before stopping for dessert at Plain Vanilla, a cafe/bakery further down the street with good cupcakes. There, we got a raspberry rose cupcake and an earl grey lavender cupcake, and I got a lemongrass jasmine iced tea to quench more of my never-ending thirst. We sat around and conversed for a while more before touring the neighborhood briefly and checking out the Tiong Bahru Market which, by this time, was already starting to close down. We walked through the hawker stalls before Tony and I ended up getting a soursop drink for further hydration. It wasn’t too bad. I bet my mom would love it. After a total of four hours of socializing with Stephanie and Tony, they had stuff to get to and so we bid farewell and I was on my own again. It was nice to meet some locals and talk about life in Singapore but it was also nice to run into some Americans who were familiar with the U.S. and the current state of things there. Once I made my way back to the hostel, I took another short break before planning my next moves as the afternoon wore on. 

I killed some time and rested my legs and shoulders at the hostel for a couple of hours as I recharged my phone. The break ended up being longer than I intended because of the weather outside. What was earlier a clear day slowly became more cloudy until the rain started to come down. I watched as the forecast and radars showed rain moving into the area and stayed put until the showers had passed, which didn’t end up occurring until close to 7pm. 

Once the skies were no longer dropping rain, I made moves to get to Supertree Grove in time to watch the wildly popular and famous Garden Rhapsody, a show of music and synced lights at Supertree Grove that occurs a couple of times every evening. And I got there just in time to see the super egg-looking things lighting up in the water and synced to cool, calming music right before the start of the main event. And it was pretty cool seeing the Supertrees light up to music (this time, it was opera). It was like watching a bigger version of synced lights during the Christmas season. Minh would love this! 

After staying put under the supertrees for a little more than an hour and experiencing Garden Rhapsody twice, I walked back and through The Shoppes at Marina Bay Sands, the large shopping center attached to Marina Bay Sands. I originally thought it’d be a good idea to cut through the shopping center, check it out, and stay cool, but it ended up taking forever to get through since I had no idea where to find the exits to the marina side of the shopping center. It was super confusing, but eventually, I did find my way out after spending way more time looking at the nice stores inside than I was intending to do. 

When I finally got to the promenade, I walked along the bay on the side opposite of the side I was on earlier this morning. I didn’t stop to take any photos this time since I knew the photos wouldn’t be all that interesting and because I was tired of lugging my heavy camera bag around everywhere. At this point, I was dead. Like dead tired. I pushed myself to get to the closest MRT (which wasn’t so close), and once I was there, I decided I would make one more stop before finally going home. 

The plan was to get off the MRT at the Chinatown stop and look for a specific hawker stall for wanton mee, a noodle dish I found online that looked like it was worth trying. By the time I got to the stall I was looking for, the stall had already closed for the evening. Darn. So I walked down to the Maxwell Center, where there were only a few stalls still open. I was hoping that the Hainanese chicken rice stall would still be open but it wasn’t either. But luckily, I found another stall, No.1 Maxwell, that was still open and that sold wanton mee. Sweet, I get to check out another dish before finishing up the night. I ordered my wanton mee and ate it slowly since I was tired. The wanton mee wasn’t bad. It consisted of egg noodles with meatless wontons (that part was weird, not sure if they cheated me out of meat or it was supposed to be like that or it was a mistake), char siu park, and some sauces with soup on the side. I sat there and finished it up before finally making it back to the hostel, with my energy almost completely drained from one of the longest city-exploring days I’ve had in a long, long while. Can’t wait to wash up and just sleep. Whew. 

5 Things I Learned Today:

1. Kaya toast is made of two pieces of bread with butter, sugar, and Pandan-fragrant kaya (coconut jam), usually served with soft boiled eggs that you can add some dark soy sauce and white pepper onto. This dish is typically eaten for breakfast. And it tastes like toasted wheat bread with sugar and jam. Oh, and most people get it with a coffee.

2. Marina Bay is a very popular location for a morning run or bike ride in Singapore given the promenade and how well the area is kept. It was full of people being active early in the morning.

3. What is Sanglish? It is Singaporean English slang. Based on what I was told, it’s a slang where people in Singapore use different words or sounds at the beginning or end of words or sentences to mean different things in English. For example, “la” at the end of sentences can be used to indicate that the sentence or thought is at its end. Like a verbal period. Another example. People can reply with the word “can” to signify affirmation of something or to answer yes to a question. Strange. 

4. Helpers in Singapore are essentially cheap servants/housekeepers that are hired through government-regulated programs. They are usually people brought in from Indonesia or the Philippines (countries where incomes can be very low, so these people can be hired for cheap labor) to help with things at home. It is regulated by the government so as to not break human rights rules, though sadly, like with anything else, people can bend the rules and not treat helpers in the humane way they should be treated. 

5. Supposedly, most Singaporean restaurants don’t automatically provide napkins for you when you eat with them. The standard is that you bring your own. Also, interestingly enough, napkins have a second use for many people here in Singapore. You can use your napkin or tissue packet to save a spot or seat at a table if you’re not there physically. And people actually respect it. Crazy. No way that’d happen in many other places.

[masksandtruths]

Bless Your Heart-Part 2

A/N: Welllll, looks like there will be more parts to this than I had originally planned. Yikes. Bear with me, because I'm trying. I just get so caught up in it that I don't want to stop the story. This part doesn't even include the prompt I chose for @deanjensengirlmaggie's strange pairings challenge, and for that, I apologize. However, I hope that you enjoy this next piece and want to say thank you to anyone that has taken the time to read this little fanfic of mine.

Warnings: Language, mentions of vomiting and gore

Summary: Dean and Sam are finally on a case in paradise...otherwise known as San Pedro, Belize. Several tourists have gone missing from Ambergris Caye just as the town's biggest festival of the year is ready to kick off, and it has the locals spooked. As the boys try to figure out what is snacking on the travelers, they run into a few members of the opposite sex that may or may not make this job a bit more difficult (but at least hotter) than most...bless their hearts <3

“Well they obviously had no issue becoming friends,” Dean observed as he looked towards his brother clearly enjoying himself with Y/N’s companions.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, “Shels never really does. She could make friends with a brick wall.”

“Sam is kind of like that too. Works out well in our line of work. Makes people just open up to him.”

“So what do y’all do, if you don’t mind me asking? Probably the kind of thing to ask before you shove your tongue down someone’s throat, but oh well.” Y/N shrugged and looked over at him, eyes dancing with amusement, waiting to hear his reply.

Dean sighed and went with their standard, vague explanation. “We work for the FBI. Down here because of the missing tourists, but that’s really about as much as I can say without earning a good ass chewing from that lumbering pile of hair over there. Sorry.” He nodded towards Sam who was throwing yet another shot back with the girls.

“No, I totally get it. No need to apologize. I wish I could tell you I was some super cool detective, but alas I’m just a lowly entrepreneur,” Y/N responded with a dramatic sigh. Dean snorted at her performance and asked about her business, genuinely curious for a change. Normally this was just part of the game to get a chick in bed, but this was different. He wanted to know all about her he realized with surprise...every stupid, silly little detail. 'God, I should kick my own ass for acting like such a fruit loop about some girl I barely know,' he thought to himself. But then her tone shifted to one more serious and passionate, and he snapped out of it. Her eyes brightened as she proudly described how she started her small marketing business in her hometown doing little things for family and friends and grew it to the point where she now had to employ three people just to keep up with the workload.

The conversation flowed back and forth easily from there. He liked cars and rock music, so did she. She was a proud, self-proclaimed nerd, his inner nerd showed itself occasionally. She rode horses, he could barely get on one but loved westerns anyway. She was artistic and loved books, he chose to leave that sort of thing to his brother. He’s a natural born fighter, she avoided fighting at all costs but had plenty of backbone when the situation called for it. She had a small family, his was smaller. And on and on it went until the bartender announced last call. By the end of the night, Sam was falling head first into bed after his drinking match with Shelby and Taylor. Dean, on the other hand, was falling head first into something entirely different.

The next morning Sam stumbled out of his bedroom, hair disheveled, clothes rumpled and looking like the epitome of a hangover. Dean glanced up from the Belizian newspaper he was reading while drinking his cup of coffee. “Morning sunshine,” he said in a loud chipper voice.

“Not right now dick wad. My hair hurts. Coffee,” he demanded.

“Your hair hurts?” Dean barked out a laugh as Sam gingerly touched his fingertips to his wild mane of hair. “Jesus dude that must be the most painful hangover ever. Your hair basically makes up 90 percent of you.”

“Fuck you, Dean. Give me 15 minutes to get ready.” As he turned to walk away, Dean swore he heard him mumble something about “freaking Texans” and their “stupid ass alcohol tolerance.”

Thirty minutes and a wild bumpy golf cart ride later, a green faced Sam and a thoroughly amused Dean were staring at a half-eaten, pin hole riddled, decaying corpse. The examiner told them the results confirmed the man was in fact one of the missing tourists, and the small puncture wounds were the cause of death.

“Well at least the poor bastard wasn’t alive while he was being munched on,” Dean said as he looked over the file.

Michael Frederick. Caucasian. Male. 36 years old. Five feet and eleven inches tall. Brown hair and brown eyes. Reported missing by the group of friends that had accompanied him to the island for his bachelor party. Found in a marsh on the southern side near the old Mayan ruin archaeological site.

“What a shitty way to go. Worst bachelor party ever.”

The examiner nodded his agreement as he bent over the body and focused on something resembling a nasty cotton ball stuffed into one of the victim’s wounds.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asked as he stood over the examiner’s shoulder.

“I have no idea, but I’ll send it off to the lab for testing and should have something back by the morning.” He reached his gloved fingers into the sore to pluck out the fibrous object, which to Dean’s delight, caused Sam to turn an even deeper shade of green.

The boys thanked him and stepped outside into the Belizean sunshine and fresh air. Sam immediately pulled his sunglasses over his eyes and took an unsteady breath as he tried to calm the rolling in his stomach. Dean, never able to turn down a chance to torture his oversized baby brother, let out a low whistle. “Whew, man, did you catch a whiff of the stench coming off that guy? That was awful. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that smell.” Sam’s bitch face came out to play as he realized exactly what Dean was doing. “And geez, all those holes? Limbs shredded and gnawed on? Wonder what he did to deserve that kind of death?” No reply from a stone-faced Sam, so he continued. “And what the hell was that cotton stuff in the one wound? Just gross. Dude, when he stuck his fingers in that rotting flesh I thought I was going to lose it.” Dean earned a small gag from his brother at that one, but Sam regained control. Dean pressed on, scrunching his nose and making a disgusted face. “Oh and the sound it made as he pulled that thing out…Buh-huh-huhhhh. All that soggy, stinky junk still stuck in it. Hey what do you think that slimy shit covering it was?” And with that, Sam doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach in the street.

“Jerk,” groaned Sam when he finally quit heaving.

“Bitch.” Dean smiled. “Maybe you can get the girls to teach you how to handle your drinks, Sammy.” 

Another half hour later, the boys carefully made their way down the raggedy ass walkway that led to the Marco Gonzales Maya Site where the body had been found. It looked like it had been pieced together with every scrap of driftwood and trash that washed up on the island over the last decade. Definite safety hazard.

“Man, back in the states OSHA would shut this down quick. You are one clumsy moment away from falling on your ass into this swamp and being some lucky gator’s main course.” Dean wiped at the sweat running down his face as he studied the uneven boards beneath his feet.

“Dude, don’t even pretend like you care what OSHA would think about anything. Safety isn’t exactly your middle name.” Sam called out from a few steps behind his older brother. “By the way, maybe you should have brought your trusty mosquito spray. I can’t tell where your jacket ends and the insects begin.”

Dean slapped at his back, causing a grey cloud to rise up and fly away momentarily before settling back into position to continue their task of trying to find a vulnerable piece of skin to attack. “Why do you think I decided to leave this jacket on, Captain Smart Ass? You think I did it because I enjoy sweating my balls off?”

Sam just shook his head knowing that anything he said would send his brother further into his little hissy fit about the heat and humidity and “pterodactyl bloodsuckers”.  The walkway dead ended into a soggy piece of land surrounded by more mangroves and dotted with small trees and other scraggly vegetation. A few of the trees bore a small laminated sign with directions to one of the several Mayan plazas. “Well Dean, you made it all the way here without being carried off by bugs or falling into the swamp, congratulations,” chided Sam.

“Yeah and apparently so did our vic.” Dean pointed to the police tape around a section of land to their immediate left that was butted up to the water. “Too bad something even worse was waiting to chomp down on the poor bastard.”

Sam drifted over to the area and did a quick scan, immediately noticing more of the fibrous material similar to the stuff extracted from the man’s wound earlier that day. “Here is some more of that cottony shit, but I don’t get where it is coming from.” He looked at the surrounding trees and plants. “I don’t see anything around here producing anything like that.”

Dean picked up a piece and examined it. “Reminds me of the fluff that exploded out the back of that fucking teddy bear’s head when he tried to off himself. Remember that, Sammy?” He smiled at the memory of one of their crazy cases and looked at his brother.

“Yeah man I remember, but that doesn’t do us one damn bit of good. We need to find out exactly what that shit is. I don’t even know what the fuck to research as of right now.”

Dean didn’t know where to start either if he was going to be perfectly honest with himself. “Well let’s take some pictures and get out of this swamp. We’ll find a bar, grab a beer and ponder on it a bit.”

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket to snap a couple pictures of the scene as he reluctantly admitted to his brother that alcohol didn’t exactly appeal to him at the moment. “Dean, man, I’ve got the bubble gut.  I don’t know if I can handle drinking right now. There’s a very real possibility I’m still only about half way sober.” Just thinking about it caused another wave of nausea to roll through his stomach.

“Hair of the dog, Sammy. Come on, don’t be a punk ass. There’s a lobster burrito and a Belikin calling my name, and I can’t think on an empty stomach,” Dean called as he turned and started to make his way back down the long walkway towards the golf cart.

“Since when do you do the thinking anyway, asshole?” Sam retorted as he put his phone away and followed his older brother. “Let’s just hope your dumb ass can quit day dreaming about Y/N long enough to actually help me solve this thing before someone else ends up looking like a pincushion.”

“Ha…ha…ha, the little brother has jokes, but at least I’m not the one that puked in the street this morning after spending the evening drinking with a couple chicks,” Dean shot back sarcastically. Sam made a vulgar gesture in his direction and spit some other insults his way, but truth be told, not one lick of it registered in his mind. Just as the sasquatch behind him had predicted, he was already back to his thoughts about a certain someone with enough brains, beauty and “bless your hearts” for the whole damn island…and suddenly his feet started stepping over those old uneven boards a little faster.

Tags: @duherica @dancingalone21 @deanjensengirlmaggie @abbessolute @hazelgreen86 @nerdwholikesword @melissaj616 @ilostmyshoe-79 @iwriteaboutdean @iwantthedean @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @kittenofdoomage @oriona75 @winchesterprincessbride @winchester-writes @littlegreenplasticsoldier @supernatural-jackles @supernatural-jackles @daydreamingintheimpala @lizwinchester16 @misssamericaschavez @transcendentalones @goldenolaf25 @superkraftklub @unadulteratedstorycollector @whispersandwhiskerburn @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @bringmesomepie56 @nichelle-my-belle @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @we-are-band-sexuals

[the-record-columns]

Jan. 16, 2019: Columns

A sports column about Tom Graves ??

             Tom Graves

By KEN WELBORN

Record Editor

Between now and March the college basketball season really heats up with conference play and other big games one after another. 

With the finite amount of time I am willing to sit in front of a television set (what with my day job and all) this past weekend I had to decide what was most important for me to watch.  Skipping the pro football playoffs was an easy decision.  Many of them do not want to stand for the Star Spangles Banner, so many of us have decided not to make any priority of sitting down and watching them. I know that has nothing to do with basketball, but I have been wanting to put that in print for some time.  Hope you understand and agree with me or will forgive me--whichever applies.

But back to basketball--admittedly my favorite sport to watch. 

This past weekend one of the games I didn't want to miss was No.1 Duke playing at Florida State.  I had read that the last three times Duke played Florida State as No.1, the Seminoles had knocked them off.  That storyline didn't really motivate me too much as I knew the Blue Devils would blow them out of the gym, what with the memory of being booted out of No.1 three times by Florida State, and Duke having yet another  powerhouse team led by a phenomenal kid named Zion Williamson.

Well, time passing as time does, and me not the best at remembering things or scheduling, I again got myself in a bind for time and it appeared as though I would miss the Duke game.  Then, my vaunted memory kicked in.  I remembered hearing Tom Graves of North Wilkesboro and Wilkesboro holding court at one of the gatherings he and his wonderful wife, Ann, have at their “Town House,” the old Johnson-Hubbard place on Main Street in Historic Downtown Wilkesboro. 

To paraphrase Tom, he basically said that basketball games were easy.  They last about two hours, but if you can tune in with about two or two and a half minutes to go, you'll see, for all practical purposes, all of the game that matters. 

At the time I figured he just wasn't much of a basketball fan, but it seemed to come in handy on Saturday.  I tuned in the game to find Duke behind, playing without their phenom Williamson, who had an eye injury in the first half, and the announcers, Dick Vitale and Company, talking incessantly about this being the fourth time that Duke had risked losing their No.1 front of Florida States rabid Seminoles.

Simply put it was a helluva finish.  Florida State was up by two, Duke got the ball, shot and missed and the ball was awarded to Florida State.  Upon review, it was clearly out on Florida State, Duke inbounded to one of their other phenoms, Cam Reddish, and he coolly fired a three-pointer at the buzzer and Duke won by one. 

Whew.

But I had to confess, I had seen "the game" for sure.  Tom Graves, once again, was right--in his own dry as a dead bug in a drought way.  So, before I went back downstairs to work, I scanned the channels and, lo and behold, there was the game between the Providence Friars and the Georgetown Hoyas, also a close score and near the end. 

Could it happen twice in one afternoon?

Again, I like basketball, including a good game between two teams I really don't know a lot about.  I knew that former pro Patrick Ewing was the coach of the Hoyas--and what is a Hoya anyway--so I decided to watch the finish. And, what a finish--a double overtime win by Georgetown.

So, Tom, I've got to say I would prefer to see the whole game, but you certainly have something with your end of game theory.

To finish, Tom Graves, in addition to being a sports guru, is one of the most decent folks I know-- with a heart of pure gold.  When I visit with Tom and Ann Graves in their home, I feel as "at home" there as I do in The Mayflower, my apartment above The Record.  He is at ease everywhere he goes, will give a stranger’s kid a ride in his old T-Model Fire Chief's car, and, at a gathering of friends on New Years Eve, Tom is the one who spoke up just before midnight and asked us all to pause, and take time to honor the memory of our dear, dear friend Eric Payne.

He is just that kind of a man.

Kind.

Land of the Long Leaf Pine

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

From the beginning of my scholastic endeavors, I was taught about North Carolina State history.

The state flag, state bird, state flower, state motto, and the regions of the state, all came before fourth grade. In eighth grade we learned more about the “Tar Heels,” and the origins of the name dating back to the Civil War, and how we were a formidable force, even though N.C. voted against joining in the hostilities.

We learned our state song in music class, and memorized our state toast. Entitled “Land of the Long Leaf Pine,” it was written in 1904 by Leonora Monteiro Martin and set to music by Mary Burke Kerr.  The N.C. General Assembly recognized it as the official state toast on May 21, 1957, and we remain the only state to have one. 

The toast is delivered twice annually at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's oldest student organization — The Dialectic and Philanthropic Societies. There’s even an Order of the Long Leaf Pine and once inducted, they become cultural ambassadors of the state.

 Here's to the land of the long leaf pine, The summer land where the sun doth shine, Where the weak grow strong and the strong grow great, Here's to "Down Home," the Old North State! Here's to the land of the cotton bloom white, Where the scuppernong perfumes the breeze at night, Where the soft southern moss and jessamine mate, 'Neath the murmuring pines of the Old North State! Here's to the land where the galax grows, Where the rhododendron's rosette glows, Where soars Mount Mitchell's summit great, In the "Land of the Sky," in the Old North State! Here's to the land where maidens are fair, Where friends are true and cold hearts rare, The near land, the dear land, whatever fate, The blessed land, the best land, the Old North State!

 But why is our state toast about a pine tree?

According to the N.C. Forestry Service, the longleaf pine forest is a fundamental component of the cultural and natural history of North Carolina. They were once one of the most extensive ecosystems in North America. The historic range of the species stretched from Texas to Virginia, covering approximately 90-million acres.

In North Carolina, longleaf pine forests covered nearly all of the upper coastal plain and lower piedmont. So likely that’s what the first European settlers forged their way through, and some in N.C. have been dated to be almost 500 years old. Some fences, and even tombstones, made of heartwood pine are still standing after a hundred years. Pretty tough stuff these pine trees. Until there’s a good old fashioned N.C. winter storm.

Large branches, pieces of branches, and entire trees have been downed in these past few months, and I’ve been stuck behind work trucks more often than not cleaning up the debris. Even on my side road, down in the hollow, way out in the middle of nowhere, on the Boomer side of life of Wilkes-By-God-County.

I say all this to reckon if we shouldn’t have a new toast recommended to the General Assembly. Hardly seems fitting that as the only state to have a toast, it is to such a fickle and easily uprooted tree. Perhaps we could write one to “The Stalwart Poplar,” or “The Indomitable Oak.” Heck, even to the “Dainty Maple” would be fine by me.

Education vs. Indoctrination

By EARL COX

Record Publisher

The world is hoping for a peace plan that will stick between Israel and the Palestinians and most are anticipating some sort of a two-state solution.  Even U.S. President Donald Trump is envisioning this possibility with his yet-to-be-announced, “deal of the century.”  But promises, agreements, treaties, plans and “deals” will not work as all seem to be approaching the problem with a top-down solution rather than a foundational approach which is essential to achieving real and lasting peace.  What I am referring to is the Palestinian education system starting at the earliest level. 

As things stand right now, Palestinian children are not being educated; they are being indoctrinated.  The civilized world is generally appalled whenever children are used (abused) by adults in the commission of illegal or immoral acts yet there is no outcry against the Palestinians even though this is exactly what they are doing – using their children to continue and intensify their hatred for Israel.  

In 2017 there was a study conducted of the Palestinian elementary school curriculum.  It was discovered that for grades 1 through 4 the teachings in the newest textbooks were more radical than in previous editions.  Palestinian children are taught to be martyrs and to demonize Israel and the Jews brainwashing them into believing that Israel has no right to exist and that all of the land belongs to the Palestinians exclusively.  Shockingly, Palestinian youth are taught to be expendable.  Within the pages of Palestinian textbooks for elementary school children are messages such as, “the volcano of my revenge”; “the longing of my blood for my land” and “I shall sacrifice my blood to saturate the land.”  Basic arithmetic is taught by using dead martyrs and murdered Jews.

Students in upper grades are taught the strategy of violence and pressure in place of negotiations in order to achieve Palestinian goals.  To struggle against Israel and bring about its destruction is the main theme of all Palestinian education.  Empathy for Israel and the Jews is not even a consideration.  Furthermore, every textbook is laced with negative messages regarding non-Muslims.  In fact, a message often repeated is that those with opposing views are not merely the opposition but rather are to be considered as enemies to be eliminated.  

If ever there is going to be a lasting peace involving the Palestinians, there must first be a change starting with the very youngest and as soon as they take their first breath.  As it stands right now, from cradle to grave Palestinians are fed a steady diet of hate.  Peace will only be possible when the roots of Palestinian morality are changed to reflect respect and tolerance for others and when they acknowledge the right of all people, including Israel and the Jews, to live free from aggression and terror.  

A rainy day at the Barber Shop and Peggy the witch

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

I enjoy my visits to the barber shop for a variety of reasons. The more practical reason is to get a good haircut, but if you limit your experience to the utilitarian purpose of walking away with shorter hair one will surely miss out on a treasure trove of cultural edification awaiting. In other words, hold on to your hat, things may just get a little hairy.

It was on the raining morning that I returned to the Second Street Barber shop in North Wilkesboro, NC a two-seat shop where Gary and his son Josh Beshears spend their days keeping many of the citizens of their community neat and tight.  

News coverage of the rage of hurricane IRMA was on the TV and both barber seats were busy when I arrived. The barber shop is the perfect place for a story teller to hang out and for those who prefer to listen it’s hard to find a better show. Barbershop storytelling is judged more so on delivery rather than verifiable facts. While a good tall tale is welcome and celebrated the more weighted issues of life are also part of conversation.

One customer was sharing the story of a recent heart problem that has changed his life. We all celebrated with him in that his only real vice to battle is a half-gallon of ice-cream every night.  This real-life issue was talked about, but before long things shifted to the story of barber Josh as a young boy in school, when he wrote a story about Peggy the witch that lived in a shack on the side the mountain

As the story goes Gary takes young Josh on an adventure to the Big Ivy area which is near the Wilkes and Ashe County line to learn about the legend of Peggy the witch who apparently once lived in the region in the late 1800’s and possessed the ability to do many things including shape shifting in the form of various animals.

At a certain point in the trip Gary stops his pickup near Phillip’s Gap and yells out the window “Peggy,” and as if on cue a deer walks out of the woods and stands in the road in front of them and stairs at Gary and Josh, but did not come close to them and then walked away. Gary drives on, however Josh wants to see if it will happen again.

At first Gary did not want to call out again, Josh was persistent so Gary stopped again and yelled out Peggy. Once again, as if on cue, a Groundhog appeared in the road in front of them, stared at them and then walked away. This happened again with a rabbit. It was at this time, they decided not to call for Peggy again.

Josh and Gary both told me that this was a true story regarding the animals. Josh wrote the story down with more history about Peggy. The story of the animals and other stories of fear and dread that Peggy stirred in other locals was published in the book, Hometown Memories, Blue Ridge Tales, published 1996 page 64-65.

The good thing about waiting for the barber’s chair is that you get to hear all the great stories and you know it will soon be your turn for an old fashion hair cut including warm shaving cream on your neck with a straight razor perfect line. You also have a chance to share your tale of the day and if you need it, you’ve got a few pals who will listen when you need it most.

When done, my seat was filled by a NC Army Guardsman, he required a simple shave, but at the Second Street Barber Shop a quick visit is not really an option. The stories take too long and who would want to rush something so important.

When folk artist Charlie Frye heard this story, he was inspired to create a painting to accompany this column. Thanks Charlie!

Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its eighth year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at 12:00 noon. For more on the show, visit  www.lifeinthecarolinas.com, You can email Carl White at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com.    

[emmalynetc]

Good and Bad: Hair Extensions!

The moment has FINALLY arrived! The fabulous hair extensions that Milk + Blush sent me finally arrived in the mail (after the longest wait ever that involved the package being sent twice and us becoming friends with the regional manager of La Poste). It's been a little over a week now with these gorgeous babies and I wanted to share my full analysis (scroll to the end for a discount code if you decide to try them for yourself!).

I was nervous that hair extensions wouldn't work for me or that I wouldn't like how they felt on my head - I'm generally pretty low-maintenance and was worried that I would look like a poser with extra-long hair. I think I just kind of wrote them off in my late teens as something that would never be for me, and I really didn't think of them again until I got more into the blogging and social media world and realized how common they actually were and how many of my favorite creators rock them every day. Once I realized that, I couldn't stop thinking about wanting to try out having an instant 6 extra inches of hair!

So, I started researching what I wanted and which hair extension companies seemed the most high-quality. I was thrilled when I reached out to Milk + Blush and they responded that they love what I'm doing and would be happy to send some extensions to try, and the best part was through figuring out which shade of hair would work for me and then it being out of stock and then all the problems with the French post system, they had a fabulous friendly customer service team that was so easy to work with. I absolutely love their website and their extension sets, but I'll get into more details in a minute! 

THE NEGATIVES

First, I wanted to get into some of the downsides of extensions (in general, not particular to Milk + Blush) that I wish I had seen more of on the internet before I got them. None of these things would have stopped me from getting them, but I just wish I had been more prepared!

They take longer to put in than you think. I am usually really, really low maintenance with my hair. Wash, air dry, throw a few curls in with my straightener and I'm good to go used to be my M.O., but those days are gone with extensions. I don't mind taking a little more time to install extensions and blend them with my hair, but I have struggled a bit with remembering to schedule that time in. 

You'll feel them all day long. I'm sure over time I'll get more and more used to the feeling, and I have definitely gotten better at placing them in the most comfortable spots, but despite every extension brand raving about how comfortable their clip-ins are, I haven't gotten to the point yet where I just forget that they're there. If you're a gal who values comfort above all else, clip-in extensions might not be for you. Add to that the summer heat making your head full of added hair feel like your scalp is constantly overheating, and extensions can be a real commitment to the phrase "beauty is pain."

You'll simultaneously feel extra self-conscious and extra confident when you're wearing extensions. I've discovered that extensions are a huge confidence boost for me (which could be filed under the "positives" of extensions) - my husband's jaw literally hit the floor the first time I put them in and I've now decided I MUST grow my natural hair out starting yesterday. But, as confident and sexy and feminine as I feel with big beautiful long locks, I also have a nagging worry in the back of my mind all day long that all my tracks are showing and everyone knows my hair is fake and I look like a fool. I've become a little more high-maintenance - I tend to check the back of my head to make sure everything is as it should be whenever I use the restroom, where I never used to do that before. I'm extra careful with the way I move and very paranoid of any kind of wind. This is also something that might disappear the more I wear them, but this week I have definitely noticed the difference.

THE POSITIVES

Whew - now that the downsides of extensions are out of the way, let's talk about what I love about them! There are a lot of reasons extensions are now going to be a staple of my beauty routine, and here are just a few.

Confidence, confidence, confidence. I can't even tell you how long my hair journey has been. I have the most bland, middle-of-the-road hair naturally. It's slightly wavy, but more on one side of my head than the other, so I can't really just let it air dry and be done. It's not too thin but also not thick enough to look really great without some volumizing product, and it's a very average dark brown color with a reddish tint. Since dying it blonde, it's got a little more of the nice texture I wish it had without chemically damaging it, but it's just actually really hard to work with when it's totally natural. I've done just about every hair cut and color from a platinum blonde pixie to black shoulder-length with big blunt bangs (should I do a post chronicling all my crazy hairstyles sometime?) but the one thing I've never had is really long hair, because that requires years and years of careful hair care and slow growth. I've always had a bit of long hair envy - I know every girl out there has at least one friend with amazing crazy-long big hair that looks amazing no matter what - and to be able to clip in some extensions and suddenly BE that person is so cool! Sure, I take them out at the end of the day, but that just means more options, right? There's an extra bounce in my step as I strut down the street with a waterfall of perfect blonde curls swaying behind me.

There are endless hairstyle options. I have suddenly become a huge fan of hair tutorial videos because now, I can try all of them out like I never have been able to before! Milk + Blush has a fabulous Youtube channel that has tons of awesome tutorials on how to do different styles. I've never spent much time on hairstyles myself because my hair is honestly just too thin and short to do most things and make them look really good. Hair extensions fix that problem - even if you have longer hair, extensions will add that extra volume that take your updo's to the next level. It's seriously life-changing to instantly go from being able to do only small buns and sad half-do's to massive viking-style braids and insanely long ponytails.

You'll feel inspired to grow your hair out (or not). Extensions, for me, are bridging the gap between the hair I have and the hair I want to have. I did the math and in about a year and a half, my hair should be almost the length my extensions are now (my hair grows at about the average of 6 inches per year). That's great because these extensions should last about a year and at that point, I'll be ready to move from my current 16"-18" set to the longer 20"-22" set. I'm committing now to not cutting my hair for at least a year (besides a trim if my bleached ends get too ratty) and just seeing what I might have been missing out on this whole time by never letting my hair grow. If at that point I decide that natural long hair just isn't my thing, the best part about these is that I can instantly have long hair whenever I want and also keep my comfortable shoulder-length hair if I need to. How awesome is that??

Human hair extensions really do feel like regular hair. The parts clipped to your head may feel a little weird, but the quality of Milk + Blush extensions for the price really can't be beat. One thing I do love is running my fingers through my natural hair blended with my extensions and having it all feel like the same hair - just slightly better, thicker, silkier hair than my own very bleached locks. That is a major plus. I also love that I can wet them and let them air-dry into perfect loose waves that match my own (less consistent) ones. It makes it so easy to still rock perfect hair on days when I don't have a ton of time! 

Milk + Blush has the best website and support for first-timers. This is a Milk + Blush-specific perk (and I'm not getting paid to say this) - Milk + Blush, of all the companies I researched on my extension hunt, has by far the best website and support info for girls new to the extensions game. There are a few reasons for that. One is their awesome team who is quick to respond to emails and can provide knowledgeable answers to all your extension questions (I thought my hair color would be hard to match, but I sent in a couple pictures of my hair in natural light and they were able to recommend the absolute perfect shade with no toning necessary!). I also love their extension set options - they've got a good range of thicknesses (100g up to 265g)  and types (seamless or classic) and SO MANY SHADES to choose from! I know that when I go back to my natural color (which is bound to happen someday), they'll still have a shade for me. The other thing I love about Milk + Blush is their Youtube channel mentioned above - it's so helpful to see tutorials not only of hairstyles with extensions, but using the exact set that you have (because every company does things a little differently!). They've got support through your entire extension process - not just up until you've purchased, but they don't leave you hanging when you're struggling to get them installed right the first time. So so good.

Alright, here's my wrap-up: if you've ever wanted to try extensions, if you've ever wished you could have the hair that makes you feel like a princess every day, just do it. Don't just resign yourself to unhappiness or dissatisfaction in the hair department if you have the extra bit of money to spend and you can live with the few downsides I mentioned above, because that's what I did and it took me so long to get over that! I can't believe what I was missing out on and I don't think I'll ever go back, really and truly.

And if you do decide to take the plunge, I've got a discount code for you that Milk + Blush was kind enough to set up for you guys! Use KISSES10 or KISSES5 for 5£ or $10 off your first purchase of an extension set :)

XOXO,

Emmalyn