#also Rose your ‘plan’ in massive air quotes

[naive-petals]

@sub-aki

“No it isn’t okay there has to be some way for me to pay… you…” pulling off of the other Roses eyes widen as she realizes just who she managed to catch when tripping. Stammering as she tried to finish her sentence Rose eventually found the courage to speak again.

“Back for catching me.” Was she blushing? Oh lord she hoped she wasn’t. This wasn’t how she was expecting to meet the other and now she was probably seen as a Klutz.

[officialleotolstoy]

Oh Anatole Brainrot* We’re Really In It Now, aka Anatole playlist annotations!

*I only have brainrot about him in terms of his relationships with Hélène and Dolokhov idc about him on his own 🤢

This playlist is infuriating because it has so many good songs on it and he does NOT deserve to have a playlist that slaps so hard :/

My Type - Saint Motel

“You’re just my type; you’ve got a pulse and you are breathing”

The lyrics are literally just I Will Have Sex With Anything That Breathes which is Anatole’s only personality trait. It just is.

Fool For Love - Lord Huron

“I’m asking her to be my bride, I know there’s another man but he ain’t gonna delay my plans”

This song is about eloping with a girl who already has a boyfriend, it is THE Comet section Anatole song. Which angers me because it’s such a good song, it doesn’t deserve to be associated with him in my head.

The Cult of Dionysus - The Orion Experience

“Wine and women and wonderful vices”

HEDONISM BABEY!!! Also the phrase “wine and women” with “he spends his money on women and wine” in Comet...makes ya think.

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic

“Look so good I might die, all I know is everybody loves me”

You know that quote that’s like “[Anatole] cultivated an air of superiority blah blah blah whatever” (paraphrased)? This is that in song form.

Bedroom Hymns - Florence + The Machine

“The wine and the women and the bedroom hymns”

Thottery AND the phrase “wine and women”? Anatolecore.

Talk - Hozier

“I’ll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I’m imagining you”

I think if he needs to, Anatole can sugarcoat carnal desire with pretty words. It kind of comes down to “I’m pretending to be eloquently and romantically interested in you but I really just want to have s*x with you”. He might not have that much self-control, but the bottom line is that this song is horny and so is he.

Someone New - Hozier

“I wake at the first cringe of morning and my heart’s already sinned”

All my notes say is “commitment issues thot anthem” which is fair. I think it’s physically impossible for him not to fall in love with someone new every week, which is the entire point of this song. Also “you knew who I was with every step that I ran to you” tracks, Anatole doesn’t really try to hide it.

Paradise City - Guns N’ Roses

“Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty”

I won’t lie, I’m not sure if this is what the song is actually about but that bit at least has hedonism energy. Also this came up on genius lyrics and it feels like something Anatole would do:

Hallelujah - Panic! At The Disco

“I got caught under the covers with secondhand lovers”

Ok whore. But also the vibes of knowing you’re a sinner and reveling in it feels like Anatole. It’s the complete lack of shame for me.

Why Should I Worry - Billy Joel

“Why should I worry? Why should I care?”

Has he ever actually cared about anything other than his own personal wellbeing? Jury’s still out. This song implies he has street smarts which may not be true but not every lyric is gonna work 😔✌🏻

Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel

“I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun”

The entire song is just seducing a devoutly Catholic girl, and it doesnt exactly work but I always assign this in my head to that time he tried to marry Marya B. But just in general, the reckless seduction vibes work.

Mambo No. 5 - Lou Bega

“To me flirting is just like a sport”

Unironically this is such an Anatole song. Listing off all his different lovers and their attributes is absolutely something he’s done. This is just a carefree thot song which is his vibe.

Ex’s and Oh’s - Elle King

“Ex’s and oh’s they haunt me like ghosts”

This is also on the Hélène playlist but this time the ex messing things up is his wife (not that any of that was her fault). I also think the general vibes of “I’m gonna make you want me so much and then leave you” are Anatoleish

Rasputin - Boney M.

“Russia’s greatest love machine”

LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THIS DOESN’T WORK. It’s about the seduction of upper-class Russian women come ON

I’m Born To Run - American Authors

“I’m gonna live my life like I’m gonna die young”

This is almost a more wholesome version of his careless hedonism, more skewed toward seeing the world rather than just having drunken fun but the energy is still there

Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen

“Tonight I’m gonna have myself a real good time”

It’s the “having fun is the only thing that matters” mindset. He doesn’t deserve this song 😔

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

I don’t have a lyric for this one, it’s just like. Yes I am a professional flirter! He is not this into commitment but i imagine he tells a new person this every week.

Oops!...I Did It Again - Britney Spears

“But to lose all my senses, that is just so typically me”

The lack of commitment and not treating relationships seriously is very Anatole, and so is the refusal to take responsibility for the heartbreak you directly caused.

How Bad Can I Be? - The Lorax

“How bad can I be? I’m just doing what comes naturally”

I KNOW I KNOW. HEAR ME OUT. This is pretty much Tolstoy’s “defense” of him verbatim. It’s the idea that he’s just so naturally like this it has never occurred to him to be any other way or to think about other people’s wellbeing. Anatole is the Onceler and Natasha is a straight girl on tumblr circa 2012.

Runaway Baby - Bruno Mars

“When I play, I never stay”

He would never be this self-aware, but otherwise it fits. The whole thing is about an inability to commit and a propensity for causing heartbreak. Also, I’ve had a grudge against this song for years and the blind rage it fills me with is reminiscent of the blind rage Anatole fills me with.

California Girls - The Beach Boys

“I’ve been all around this great big world and I’ve seen all kinds of girls”

This song is like, “What if we objectified every woman ever but made it a bop?” which is massive Anatole energy I think.

Girls, Girls, Girls - Motley Crüe

“I just need a new toy”

Literally the exact same justification as California Girls

It’s Raining Men - The Weather Girls

If I’m gonna add songs about objectifying women, I’m gonna add songs about objectifying men too. Equal opportunity whorery.

Parental Guidance - Judas Priest

“You say I waste my life away but I live it to the full”

This is just him to Vassily. Refusing to be controlled by your parents’ expectations and just going off to have fun is Vassily’s whole gripe with him and also the point of this song.

How To Be A Heartbreaker - MARINA

“You gotta have fun, but baby when you’re done you gotta be the first to run”

The bits about not getting close to anyone because you’re afraid of getting hurt don’t really apply but the “here’s how to make people like you and also we are for sure not staying together this is just for fun” definitely fit.

The STD Song - Top Memes

“Sinning with your naked bod is evil and atrocious”

I uh. I forgot this was on here but I was RIGHT when I added it. This is the lecture Vassily gives him after his Polish wife debacle-

Do It All The Time - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

“I’m only doing anything I want to do because I do it all the time”

He literally just does whatever he wants without thinking about the consequences. It’s just got huge entitled kid thot energy which is Anatole’s whole character. And the line “I’m taking your girl and I’m making her mine” is deeply Anatoleish.

Until The Night Turns - Lord Huron

“I got a helluva view for the end of the world, I've got a bottle of booze and a beautiful girl”

This doesn’t fit into any particular situation but I do think if the world was ending and Anatole was drunk with a pretty lady he would have this exact reaction. Also the repetition of the word sunrise (which is what the name Anatole means) is just a fun little extra bit.

Girls - The 1975

“What’s the fun in doing what you’re told?”

Rebellious kid energy! Also “she can’t be what you need if she’s 17” is everyone with morals @ him about Natasha (I know she was 19 at the time shh it’s about the energy).

Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) - The Offspring

“In his own mind he’s the dopest trip”

This man is The Worst but he really thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips huh! Literally everyone can tell he’s not the brightest bulb in the bunch EXCEPT HIM. Smh.

[ahsoka-lives]

Iris pt. 3

Part 3 of my Inquisitor!Cal series!!

A/n: I’ve decided on a series name!! Im calling it Iris because thats what fake moon they live on lmao. Thank you sm for all the love on parts one and two, it means so much to me. I will try to keep posting updates frequently for my sake and yours :) also this gif is by @sovahunter​ !!

Warnings: Using the force mildly inappropriately, things get a lil handsy but nothing serious yet.

Word Count: 3k

  The sun was beginning to go down on the moon. There were only a few hours before you were meant to meet with Cal for dinner. You sat in your office in the maintenance hall filling out the completion forms from your appointments. You found yourself taking your time and looking for any way to drag out the time. Maybe you could give him a rain-check, say you got caught up with work? 

Yes, that’s perfect. You wouldn’t be turning him down necessarily, you’d just be postponing so there would no reason for him to be upset or disappointed, right? You nod to yourself and place your papers into your bag. 

“BD-5, are you there?” You say into your comlink. 

“Yes, y/n. What is it?” 

“I’ll be there soon, would you mind getting dinner started? Oh and are you up for a movie tonight BD? My plans have uh, changed.” Your voice becomes quiet as you go on. 

“You are exceedingly predictable, Y/n, I’ve already begun dinner.” 

“I don’t remember programming you to analyze behavior“ You retort as you exit your office.

You giggle and shake your head. Your companion was your closest friend on the base and listened very well when you ranted about your problems, including earlier that day about the Inquisitor. 

The halls of the base were quiet as they usually were at the end of the day. As you neared the training room you came to a halt. What if Cal was in there again? If you run into him, you couldn’t rely on yourself to talk your way out of dinner. BD-5 was to send a note to him explaining that you had too much work to do and couldn’t join him tonight. 

You decide it’d be best to take the long route to the living quarters and avoid the risk. You head toward the building exit, there was a stairwell for the service workers that led to a large bridge that you could access and get to the living quarters without having to pass any officers or Inquisitors. 

The bridge had large windows that overlooked one of the landing pads that held personal ships making easy access for when an emergency calls. The echo of your shoes hitting the smooth concrete filled the bridge, there was a peacefulness that came with the vacancy. The vents allowed for the sounds of the waves crashing to flow inside with the mist of saltwater. 

You pause for a moment and take in the view, only to be interrupted by the whirring of an imperial ship coming down onto the landing pad below you. You were several floors up but the ship still looked massive. It was a newer model of the tie fighter, with nearly transparent wings and more black detailing than silver. Whoever was inside was lucky to have it, or just skilled enough to have earned it. 

Against your better judgment, you decide to wait for the pilot to exit. There was still dust settling around the ship as the cockpit opened. Time seemed to have slowed with your anticipation. 

Inquisitor combat gear head to toe stepped onto the black sand. You stood in awe of the confidence and power that radiated off of the individual standing below you. A helmet covered their face and head as they marched forward toward the pad guards. 

The guards bowed their heads slightly to the Inquisitor before handing them a small holo-communicator. You hadn’t made out what the communicator was showing and your attention was taken from it before you could. A small and familiar BD unit was hopping toward the Inquisitor. 

Then it clicked. 

It was Cal.

Your eyes snapped toward the Inquisitor who had given the communicator back to the guards and began to remove his helmet. Cal turned to face his companion and the two seemed to be having an exchange. 

Cal’s arm abruptly shot out and reached into the empty air. A few seconds later a small cylindrical piece of metal caught in his hand, his saber. He stood completely still for a moment and his head bowed slightly with his eyes closed as if he was saying a prayer but you knew better than to think the man was praying. 

His head tilted slightly and a small smirk crept onto his face. An empty hand rose and gestured toward the cliffs, reaching once more before closing into a fist. His eyes were still shut as his fist raised, reopened, and two fingers gestured in an upward motion directly at you.

You covered your mouth to stifle your gasp, which was useless as it was clear that he knew of your presence. You backed away from the windows and tried to collect yourself. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, how long had he known you were watching him again? 

Your thoughts were interrupted by something fluttering inside the bridge from a vent. You felt your curiosity pique as it was carried to you by the wind, hovering right in front of you before dropping to the floor. 

Resting in perfect condition at your feet was a flower. 

- 

Cal pulled his helmet back onto his head and looked to the window he sensed you at moments before. He waited a moment before allowing BD-1 to jump onto his place by his shoulder. 

He hoped you liked your gift, he knows you hadn’t seen any of flowers in a long time. Most don’t know of the flora covering the stretches of the land beyond the facility, and for good reason, the fauna was territorial and most are not as prepared to defend themselves. 

He was disappointed in you for canceling dinner but he certainly wasn’t surprised. After all, when he saw you last that morning he had been quite forward with you. He also knew that he couldn’t rely on you to be as forward with him, you were afraid of him. However, he couldn’t help but he enjoy the fear he inspired. But he didn’t want it to be that way for long, his plan was to turn that fear into something else that would be much more enjoyable. 

“What am I going to do about our little stalker, BD?” He was asking himself more than his droid. If you really were busy with work he wouldn’t want to disturb you but he was sure you made it up. Of course, there was no way to tell from the message since your droid spoke in it and the robotic voice held no trace of inconsistency that would indicate a lie. 

Maybe he just had to see for himself.

-

You seemed to have gotten to the elevators before Cal, you’re surprised, to say the least. Upon entering your apartment you immediately head to your room, not wanting to explain the flower or your flustered appearance to your droid. You sigh loudly and look at the flower still in your hand. 

Why was it still in your hand? 

Truthfully, you loved it. You didn’t even know there were flowers on this moon and since it came from him... well let’s just say it felt important. You carefully place it into your bedside table before going to your washroom. You splash the cool water onto your face and calm yourself down. You probably won’t see him until the start of the next work week in two days. 

You pause at the sound of voices coming from behind the two doors blocking you from the main living area. Maybe BD-5 had the television on. You shrug it off and dry your hands before making your way to the kitchen. Once you opened the bedroom door, the voices ceased. 

Your droid appeared in front of you

“Y/n, I told him to wait outside but he insisted on entering. I see what you meant by ‘He has no sense of boundaries!’” BD-5 hurriedly explain.

For a moment you were confused until you remembered 'He has no sense of boundaries’ was something you said to BD-5 about Cal. 

Cal, the Inquisitor who you cancelled dinner plans with. Cal who you just ran from again. Cal who was comfortably sitting on your couch staring at you. Yes, that Cal. 

“ ’No sense of boundaries’ is actually a direct quote from my last performance review.” He chuckled and put his hand on his chest in mock exasperation. “I’m a little hurt, though.” 

You sat there in shock at the Inquisitor sitting in your home as if it was his own, arms stretched, legs relaxed, now in his regular clothing. When did he even have time to change? 

“Oh, you get used to changing quickly when you have less than 60 seconds to be ready for a mission.” He chimed, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Get out of my head.” You snapped. 

His eyebrows raised and a smirk came over his handsome face. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist. 

You winced expecting something to smack you in the head, only to turn and see BD-5 leaving the two of you. 

“Relax, I don’t want to hurt you” He stood up and took a step toward you. “I was disappointed to hear you can’t be with me tonight so I thought I’d stop by and see you for a few minutes.” He spoke so kindly. 

Your heart swelled at his apparent thoughtfulness and you almost felt bad for telling him you were too busy.

“Th-that’s very sweet of you, Cal.” You stuttered out as you tried to remain as calm as possible. He was just back from some kind of mission and obviously still on high alert. 

“Why are you doing that again? Is there something you don’t want me to know, flower?” He was speaking so gently now, it didn’t match who you saw minutes ago on the platform. 

“Doing what?” You asked, playing dumb once again. It was now that you noticed he had taken several steps toward you and your heart jumped. You nonchalantly turned and walked into the kitchen, knowing he would follow. 

He huffed and rolled his eyes, ‘so that’s is how we’re playing this’, he thought to himself. He followed you into your kitchen where you had put your island between the two of you. 

“Why are you trying to keep your thoughts about me hidden from me? It must be tiring to put all that effort into keeping me out of that pretty little head of yours.” He decided he would play along, that is until he becomes bored. “I haven’t even tried to pry my way in yet, do you think you could keep me out if I did?”

“I-I probably not.” You nearly choked out. His eyes were burning into you now and you felt like you could faint. He was right, it was draining to be tightly wound for so long. 

“Probably?” He scoffed playfully and almost showed you a full smile. “That’s really cute, flower. You know I can take what I want when I want it.” 

Your heart must’ve given out. At first, from the compliment that made your face burn slightly from blushing, then again with his second statement. You knew he could take what he wanted in more ways than one and it made you feel a different kind of weak.

“Why can’t you just ask me what you want to know instead of looking for it in my head?” You were surprised at how brave you were being and there was no turning back now. 

“Will you be honest with me? Or did you want BD-5 to come back in and lie on your behalf?” He thought that would stun you for a moment and he was right. You stood there, eyes opened a little wider, mouth agape, processing his words once again. 

“That’s what I thought. You know, I’m not mad, flower, I’m just disappointed.” He tsked and leaned his back against the counter. “When will you learn that you can’t keep things from me? Or is the better question, How?” 

“H-how?” You could admit, you were scared. But you couldn’t ignore the arousal swelling inside of you from him being so forward. You couldn’t help but think that he was similarly assertive elsewhere. His lips were pinkish red and it looked like there was a small cut on it, maybe from today’s mission. Wondering what they felt like against your skin was probably, no, definitely not what you should have been thinking about but you couldn’t catch the thought from coming forward in your head. 

“Yes, y/n. How will you ever learn?” His voice was low and steady, his eyes still on you only now they looked different. His normal green was tinted lightly with yellow. 

You opened your mouth to question it when his hand raised and his wrist flicked to the side once again. This time you didn’t flinch, instead, you watched in near amazement to see what he did. Only, what he did was not something that called for amazement.

The door to the kitchen slid shut and locked. Your eyebrows raised and you looked at him again, only to find he was now only steps ahead of you. You felt a small panic ensue and start to move to the other side of the island, hoping to make space between the two of you, only to feel two strong hands grip your waist and pull you back. 

You let out a small yelp as you’re set onto the countertop with Cal standing in between your legs. Your breathing is all too heavy as you place a hand on his chest and one on the counter to balance yourself. 

“Is this so bad?” He coos and gently moves a piece of hair from your face. 

“N-no, n-not at all.” You felt frozen in place, unsure of his next move. His eyes still have a light yellow sheen over the iris and you’re just about to ask when his thumb moves to caress your cheek. His hands were soothing but slightly rough,  you assumed from time spent with his saber. Stunned, you stay silent and watch his face for any signs of what he might do next. 

He then gently moves your chin up to make you meet his eyes and moves two fingers to press to your temple. Your body runs cold as the realization hits you. 

“Now, are you going to let me in, or am I letting myself in?” He growled lowly, his other hand on your waist holding you steady. 

You didn’t know what else to do besides, you definitely did not want him poking around in your head so you closed your eyes and tried your best to clear everything out, just like Trilla taught you. But you were no force-sensitive warrior. No, one of those was standing against you with his fingers pressed to your temple. 

He really should commend Trilla for her teaching effort, but he was sure she didn’t tell you that some force users are especially gifted in mind reading. Usually this would hurt whoever was on the receiving end but Cal was better at it than most.

“You need to relax, flower, or it may hurt.” He muttered. 

You felt the idea of letting him in creep forward in your mind and it was all too tempting. Was this a mind trick? Wait, did he say it’d hurt?

Suddenly a soft kiss was pressed to the side of your neck, then another, and another. Your hand pressed into his chest and grabbed his shirt in your fist. He hummed against your neck before his hand left it’s place at your temple. You relaxed for a moment and closed your eyes feeling content, his lips were soft and warm against your skin. You would never expect him to be so gentle. You moved your hand up to his hair as he continued peppering kisses to your neck and slightly exposed shoulder.

And as quickly as it came, the moment left. Your hands were suddenly moved behind your back to support you, only this wasn’t you. Your eyes flew open and a gasp left your mouth as his teeth dug into your neck. Two fingers returned to your temple as he sucked a mark onto your skin, as if to distract from the pressure he was applying to your temple. And distract it did, your mind was left vulnerable and all it took was a light push to open up for him.

He pulled away from your neck to look into your hazy eyes. He read through your many, many thoughts of him as you stared back into his, unable to move. His eyes were now nothing short of golden and it would’ve caused a shocked reaction if you didn’t feel so dazed. Him being in your head felt good, like a spice high.

He hummed again and a small smile formed on his lips. Who knew you could have such inappropriate thoughts of him. Having gotten what he came for, he released his hold on your mind and body. Knowing you would be weak from the high, he moved to support you.

He hooked an arm under your knees and one behind your shoulders. This time, with only the movement of his eyes, the kitchen door slid back open. He carried you to your bed and laid you down, noticing you had fallen asleep in his arms. He stilled for a moment and took note of how you furrowed your brows slightly even in your sleep.

You were so cute.

He pulled the covers over you and placed a kiss to your forehead.

As he turned to leave he felt a pull back toward the bed. Against his deepest wishes, it wasn’t you. It was something in your bedside table. A small part of him thought about respecting your privacy before remembering that he really didn’t care.

Sliding open the drawer, he didn’t know what he was expecting but he felt almost relieved by what he found.

“Good girl.” He muttered before shutting the drawer again and leaving you to dream of him again. 

[munstarr]

The Guardian: part 3

Hello everyone! Welcome to part 3 of this slow burn! I am having fun writing this, hope you enjoy!

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That night Mirin had given her a tour of a lifetime, this opulent circular building was actually his home. He had taken her to each room and she was happy to find that her key card had been given access to each space. Some rooms held documents and information panels, others held more interesting things like collecticbles from his travels and art work, overall each room was a new experience to behold.  On the last part of their tour he dropped her off at her room,  mentioning his was down the hall in case she would need anything. As Mirin walked away she couldn’t help but glace back at his towering frame, he was well over seven feet tall she noted as she had stolen glances at him all throughout the tour. He had been a bit different than the other Nuks she’d previously met, his skin had more scales than leather she noted, it even had a lovely faint iridescent purple hue in some lights. Mirins teeth also seemed even sharper,his mouth should have been frightening since it was filled with razor sharp teeth. But biting her lip she remembered the way he’d sharply smirk or gently rumble every time she said something he found a bit amusing, she was starting to feel calm already thanks to his jauntiness. Scanning into her room, there was an instant relief that there were no boxes on site. The nuks seemed to have placed her art and other things on the walls, that made her happy. Walking further into her space she noticed some things were placed upside down but she appreciated the sentiment . Yawning Azura decided she was ready for bed,the day's excitement had hit her all at once and she was worn out. Stripping off her second skin pants and putting on her silky pink bonnet she leaped into her huge new bed. Ready to drift off to sleep her last thought was about needing to ask for a stepping stool on her next Earth request form, slowly her eyes reluctantly fluttered closed. 

The next morning Azura laid asleep drooling onto her soft cozy pillows as her room spun around slowly transitioning to show the bright purple sky through the large window, her room spoke in a soft angelic voice “Lady Emem, it’s time to rise and prepare for your first day” , grumbling Azura sat up and slinked off her bonnet and eye mask with a stretchy yawn. Rubbing her eyes she straightened up,looking around and then out of her floor to ceiling window in confusion “Oh! That’s right, I live on a different planet now” she laughed dumbfoundedly, how could she forget! Only she could forget she moved to another planet, that’s jetlag for ya she thought. Jumping out of bed she inspected the two doors in her room, finding one to be a washroom and the other her closet.  Swaying into her bathroom she prepared for the day, after touching every button possible she was able to start the water and indulge in a quick sudsy shower, letting the water be the breath of life for her tight curls.  Dripping all the way into her closet she was happy to find her uniforms there waiting for her, the closet also featured a massive amount of empty space.  Azura felt hopeful she wouldn’t always have to wear black, afterall she thought bright colors looked lovely on her silky chocolate skin. Dressing quickly she applied a more neutral creamy lipstick to her soft lips, gathering her hair into a beautiful high puff, she decided to leave out bang ringlets to frame her soft face. Inspecting herself in the mirror she was very happy she could do this in a short amount of time, she wanted to be downstairs earlier than The Guardian to be prepared for the day. Gathering her identification cards she headed out to the study where he instructed her to meet him, with a slight bounce in her step she was very pleased with her morning start thus far. Scanning into the study the door sang “Welcome Guardian Keeper Azura'' she would never get used to that she thought as she stepped into the study.Only to find that Mirin was already there, sitting at his desk “oh, your guardianess, I wasn't expecting to see you so early” she said looking at her time keeper, she had been here an hour early after all.  “I was going to prepare for you,” she said admittedly, trying to hide her disappointment. “How fitting, I rose early to prepare for you” he said in his booming voice. Standing he smoothed out his frame hugging dark outfit and walked over to a door and rolled out a huge onyx colored tower filled with food. “ I read that you might enjoy a meal before working. I ordered you the first daily meal out of many” he said matter of factly adjusting things on the tower. She had to admit that for someone with no visible eyes he was very attractive, even early in the morning,his sharp smile made her fan girl in secret. After spending yesterday stealing glances at him she had to admit she had a hidden urge to run her fingers over his leather scalded skin. She was curious to know if the texture was as strong and smooth as it looked, that thought made her squeeze her thighs together slightly. Walking over to meet him she saw the food tower contained things like sausage, egg, liver, beans, waffles and so much more food than she could ever possibly eat. She was a bit confused but was excited to eat non the less. “I ordered what they call ‘a full english breakfast’ he said in air quotes looking down at her. Restraining a giggle she smiled, ‘’that's so thoughtful sir, but I- I.. am actually not from england '' she said reluctantly, that would explain the liver and blood pudding she thought. He seemed to be confused, tilting his head slightly. Packing her plate with waffles and sausage she explained as they went on to discuss the day's plans. The Guardian had sat opposite her after activating the fireplace, while she ate he explained a bit more about his job and exactly what she would be helping him do while she was with him. Apparently there were few guardians appointed, and Mirin was the guardian of knowledge, he kept all original record copies, and was an archivist for the sector of the planet in which they lived. Azura felt amazing she could help with such a thing, she had worked in an office and a library previously so she was happy she could help him. He mentioned to her how sometimes they would be in the archives and other times they would deliver information and attend planetary meetings.  After chatting more over breakfast the room had fallen comfortably silent, with only the sounds of crackling fire filling the warm room. She was lost in thought, happy the man she was working with turned out to be more than agreeable, that eased her nerves a lot and helped her feel even better about her decision to move . “So” he said breaking the silence ‘’ would you like to visit the archive today?” he said with a sharp smirk that made her stomach flutter. “Yes sir,  I’m ready to help any way I can” she said confidently with a sharp nod. 

Over the next few weeks Azura and Mirin got to know each other even more, working in the archive was a quiet job when they were being serious. When there were no visitors he would give her tours of the endless scrolls and show her holograms of places on the planet and far off places, she was excited to learn that they could visit many of them sometime soon. During their shifts he would try to explain all the Nuk humor and show her maps, she was always so enchanted by how passionately he talked about his job. She loved when he’d softly rumble after she asked a question about something he was interested in, and he’d do it even deeper when she was speaking about topics she enjoyed. He seemed most happy when she would get excited about potential places for them to explore together. After hearing his stories it seemed he usually traveled alone and was happy at the implication they’d go places together now, at least that's what she gathered from his husky purrs.

 This current shift had been a quiet one, them both working hard on different projects, only stopping to really interact when she had a question or he needed her assistance moving files around the building. They were currently working on compiling the right documents for an upcoming meeting for the Guardians of his sector. She could tell by his silence throughout the day he wasn't looking forward to it, she could also tell by the way he talked about the upcoming event. She couldn't be sure why but decided it would be better to ask later when they weren't so busy. Closing down the archive Azura noted how tired Mirin looked, she could see it in his body language that he was ready to head home. She noted how he got like this on days usually on days when it was very busy and they didn't have time to talk much. It made her sad to see him so quiet especially since he was usually such a bright light to be around. “You know, I could try and teach you another Earth board game when we get home” she said suggestively knowing this would perk him up. When he did not respond while working the keypad she gingerly took his clawed hand into hers, rubbing the back with her other in calm circles. This made him freeze and straighten up completely  , picking up her tiny hands in his, he faced down to them looking at them for what felt like minutes. This confused her and she let out a soft gasp in surprise when he let out his long deep purple tongue and licked up the  back of her palms slowly and almost sensually. Azura was shocked silent and held her breath for what felt like ages. “Oh, I see, this gesture is a term of human affection and care” he said with a tired shy smile, he placed her hands down and patted her afro “You are very sweet women, I would enjoy that very much,let's proceed home” he said with a newly found tired smile. Confused, she suddenly remembered that Nuks could get information from taste and she was able to breathe again, even though she had to admit the feeling of his cool tongue on her hand had sparked something she was hoping it wouldn't, she could feel the electricity and it flooded straight down to her core. “Shall we go?” he said, tilting his head questioningly offering her his large hand, she nodded taking it. She couldn’t help but feel bad for indulging in this moment as he guided her to the transporter. She was only trying to help cheer him up after all, at least that's what she told herself. 

[bcbdrums]

The Cocoro of Rococo

My answer to Drakgo prompt #3.  I cheated a little on the prompt.  Oh well!

Title is from a quote from a novel by Noval Takemoto.

This fic is rated M!  Mature content alert!!!

FFn link --> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13654523/1/The-Cocoro-of-Rococo

---------------

"At last, Shego!"

The green-skinned villainess looked up from her magazine with a grimace. She'd been hoping this one would blow up in his face before the "at last" rant.

"My modifications to the trans-dimensional vortex inducer are complete! We can now travel into a cable TV program and steal the fictional technology and bring it back into the real world!" Drakken cried, raising his fists triumphantly.

Shego closed her magazine with a sigh and uncrossed her legs as she tossed it aside. She recognized his single-minded determination as well as she recognized her own disdain for plans that relied on experimental technology. But there would be no dissuading him.

"And you can take objects out of a TV show, how?" she asked as she approached him where he was grinning over the cables connecting his device.

"With this!" Drakken said, holding up a separate small device that looked to Shego's eye, like an old dustbuster. "My new matter re-organizer will enable us to bring back whatever we want! And I have my sights set on the technology from Space Passage. Weapons...travel...medicine...revolutionized!"

"Uh-huh... And how do you know it won't come back as stage props?"

Drakken's fierce grin was unshakeable, and he only tutted at her as they both moved to stand in front of the larger device. "Oh ye of little faith! This plan is fool-proof!"

Shego gave him a look. For the first time his expression faltered, but only slightly.

"Well...what's wrong with the plan?" he asked seriously, staring at her.

"Other than it being untested and you don't know if your new device will work? What about last time when we just bounced around to different shows?"

"I have solved that problem as well!" Drakken said, his grin returning in full. He picked up the TV remote and pointed it at the television brought to the lab, turning it on. "I discovered that the problem before was simply that there wasn't any program running when we went into the TV. Now, as long as we choose our program beforehand, we'll stay in one show!"

Shego couldn't help but smirk at his enthusiasm as he flipped the channels until finding Space Passage. The plan was untried and absurd to the highest degree. Removing all the water from the Great Lakes was a better idea in her opinion, simply because there was less personal risk. But after four years, she knew there was no changing his mind...

"All right, Jack Paar," Shego said, sidling up to him and setting her hand on his shoulder as he stared at the flashing images on the screen. He glanced at her with a raised brow, the reference going over his head. She only grinned. "So what are we stealing first? We can't come back with everything on the first try. And won't the characters fight back?"

"They won't need to," a familiar voice from somewhere above spoke. Both Drakken and Shego whirled around to see Kim Possible crouched in an upper window of the lair. "Because you're not activating that device."

"Kim Possible!?" Drakken gasped.

Kim shot her grappler into the opposite wall where it anchored, and in a flash she was zip-lining down the cable straight toward them, followed by her side-kick-turned-boyfriend and his pet rodent on their own zip-lines.

"Are you really surprised?" Shego asked, giving Drakken a sideways glance as she ignited her hands and began firing at the intruders.

Kim leapt off the zip-line and headed straight toward Shego, leg cocked and ready to kick. The villainess's resulting distraction meant she only heard Drakken's annoyed grunt as Ron Stoppable crashed into him, sending the two of them sprawling.

"Aren't you supposed to be away at college?" Shego said through a grunt as she shook off the pain from the adult teen's attack.

"Not when Drakken is stealing the pan-dimensional vortex inducer. For the third time."

Shego kicked out fiercely before lunging forward with her glowing hands, swinging punches that caused the red-haired heroine to hop back and away.

"Can't you just get on with your own life and stop messing with ours?" Shego responded with a grunt when Kim was far enough away that she could take a breath.

"When the two of you are still plotting world domination? As if!" Kim retorted, lunging forward and throwing a double kick combo that Shego had to back-handspring to avoid.

"Who says we're trying to take over the world?" Shego grunted as she fired a blast of distraction before leaping forward with another kick.

Kim grabbed Shego's ankle and yanked in an uncharacteristic act of violence. The green woman gasped and fell forward, almost crashing into the teen before hitting her back hard in the chest with glowing hands as she fell, causing the red-head to let go.

Both women stumbled for a moment as they regained their balance, turning with looks of menace. But their combat was halted by a frantic shout from Ron.

"No, no, no, Kim help!" he wailed.

Shego looked at where Drakken and Ron, in a tangle of limbs, had bumped into the device Drakken had built to connect the trans-dimensional vortex inducer to the television. The device was active and the beam had begun to surround the pair.

The naked mole-rat was at their feet, hopping and squealing in anxiety. Shego gasped as the creature hopped directly onto the fallen TV remote and watched as the channel changed...and Drakken's and Ron's forms wobbled and then were sucked into the portal that appeared in front of the screen, soon followed by the mole-rat that had unwittingly changed their plans.

Shego snarled and ran past Kim, grabbing Drakken's matter re-organizer and jumping directly into the portal. If the teen followed or not, she didn't care. And as she felt herself begin the tingling transformation into whatever form of matter they were inside the TV, she hoped that Drakken's plan also included a way back out of the world of cable...

Drakken felt a bump as his rear impacted something hard, and then he opened his eyes. He was sitting on a polished floor of some sort of stone tiling. He blinked and lifted his eyes to the rest of his surroundings. He was in a broad hallway, and both walls where white and adorned in intricate filigree and what appeared to be murals painted directly onto the wall. Every five feet or so was a small statue on a pedestal, and as he continued his survey he found the ceiling was decorated with even more filigree and intricate moulding. Paintings covered the entire ceiling, and a distance down the hall hung a candelabra chandelier that provided the only dim lighting.

Drakken pushed himself off the ground and then gasped as he took in his own clothing. He wore a heavy dark blue coat that was embroidered all the way down the front and the hem. It was so long it was practically a cape, and it had massive, broad sleeves that folded over up to his elbows, also with the ornate, gold embroidery. Beneath the coat was a waistcoat of the same blue, but a lighter material, and a black shirt with some sort of ruffly yet silken black cravat at his throat.

His pants were the same rich dark blue, but they were extremely tight, such to the point that he was glad the waistcoat fell down far below his belt. The pants also stopped at the knee, where black stockings were pinned up beneath them and he wore black heeled shoes that were clearly from a bygone era. The entire ensemble was from a bygone era.

His hair, thankfully, was largely unchanged. Though when he rain his hand back over it the pieces he usually let stick up freely in the front had been slicked down. He hoped it wouldn't be too hard to clean when they got back.

"Shego?" he called loudly. His voice echoed down the hall with its rich, tiled floor until it evaporated into silence. He sighed and began walking, to his right, because it happened to be the direction he was mostly facing.

"This isn't Space Passage..."

Shego grumbled to herself as she picked her way down the stone hall. She had kicked off her pink heeled shoes after the first five minutes of trying to navigate the maze, so the echo of their clopping was gone. Now the only sound was the rustling of a skirt so massive she was sure she must be wearing two or three dresses at once.

The gown was dark green, the fabric heavy, thick, and shiny, and it fell in more tiered layers than she cared to count. It was a full skirt with some sort of support structure beneath it, but that was little help in allowing her to travel easily for the bulk of the gown. Each tier of the skirt was lined with large, pink roses made of another fabric and sewn on, complete with vines and leaves connecting them. Up the front of the bodice was a pink lacing that was almost hidden for the massive ruffles that fell from the large pink bow at the center of her cleavage. The tight green sleeves that fell to her elbow were likewise adorned with massive pink bows and lace that fell to her forearms, tickling her bare skin. The neckline of the gown was far lower than anything she had ever worn, and it was also broad and ever so slightly off the shoulder. It was also lined in the soft, pink roses.

Her hair, thankfully, seemed to have avoided a full transformation into whatever historical program the rodent had unwittingly sent them to. The strands framing her face were pulled back with a pink ribbon, tied in a large bow high at the back of her head. Her hair had been curled into large ringlets, but was so heavy that it couldn't maintain its shape and was already cascading down her back in twisted black waves. Within the waves were woven more pink ribbons, with real roses affixed to them that perfumed the air around her head with a sweet smell that was mildly distracting. Shego was glad that keeping her hair back was at least one thing she didn't have to worry about as she tried to navigate the confusing program.

As she continued down the broad hallway, she tripped on one of her skirts and nearly fell. She snarled and ignited her hands with the intent to just burn the heavy layers away, but stopped as the soft echo of footfalls began to approach. Shego held her glowing hands up and away from her skirts and froze. If the approaching person was Kim Possible or the side-kick...she'd show them exactly what she thought of their interference. And she'd need a good shot, due to the restricting clothing.

Just because Drakken had outsourced the pan-dimensional vortex inducer and they were going to use it steal fictional future technology of world-altering importance...didn't mean they were using it for world domination. In fact, the plan was to patent and sell all the technology and retire in luxury. It was a different way of ruling the world...but really, rule it they would. Legally. They were even planning to return the outsourced tech. That device would mean nothing, after all, once their future tech was out there.

As luck would have it, it wasn't red or blond hair that rounded the corner, but black. Drakken startled slightly at the sight of her, but then sighed in relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his breath caught. Shego raised an eyebrow as he stared at her, slack-jawed.

"What?" she asked as she let her glow go out, slowly dropping her hands to rest over her skirts and shifting her weight to one foot.

"You look...you look..." Drakken stammered.

Shego glanced down at her dress again, nervously pulling a lock of hair complete with woven roses over her shoulder. All she had really noticed before was the inconvenience, but, the design was nice enough for whatever historical period they were stuck in. And the dark green and pink did look nice against her skin.

She looked up at Drakken and really looked at his attire for the first time. His coat, while not tailored at the waist, was so long that it fairly flowed like a cape from his broad shoulders where it was perfectly cut. Her eyes moved from the hem of the coat up his legs, where the pants were so tight they may as well have been painted on. Her brow furrowed in annoyance when her gaze reached the hem of the waistcoat, which fell almost to the middle of his thighs.

She looked up at his face again, which was coloring dark with a blush. He lifted a hand and tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. Shego suddenly found her heart racing, and her hands began anxiously fiddling with the ends of her hair.

Drakken looked around suddenly, his head turning in every direction, until he spotted a door in the wall just behind and across from him. It was easy to miss, as it was decorated with the same elegance and intricacy as the rest of the walls. He crossed to it, pushed the door in and stuck his head inside, and then looked back out.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand to her.

Shego blinked and nervously stepped forward. Why was she nervous? He was grinning with anxious excitement when she set her hand in his, and she peered around him into the room and observed the centuries-old furniture.

"It's just an old bedroom— Whoa!" she said as Drakken pulled her quickly into the room, closing the door behind them.

Kim held her pink and yellow Rococo skirts high as she traipsed through the halls, looking for any sign of Ron or Drakken and Shego. Her dress had been unfortunately damaged in her fight with the castle guards upon her arrival in what was obviously the movie The Swordsman Three, and she was wondering why she hadn't yet jumped to a new channel. Since she hadn't, the likelihood was that the others were trapped in the same movie, but she had yet to find them.

Just then, a familiar voice sounded from behind a wall somewhere to her left. But the voice was uncharacteristically giggling. Kim frowned and followed the sound until she reached a door. She was about to kick it in and continue the fight that Drakken's device had interrupted, when she heard said man whine.

"Shegooo," the mad scientist said, sounding annoyed and impatient to Kim's ear. And Shego's giggling continued from within the room.

Kim weighed her options for a moment, until finally she scoffed at herself and cautiously turned the doorknob, making no sound as she pushed the door in ever-so slightly and peered into the candlelit room.

Shego was standing at the foot of a four-poster canopy bed in an elaborate green and pink Rococo gown and holding a pink fan in her hand, fanning her face with it as she giggled at something on the other side of the room. Kim watched as she cleared her throat and tried to calm down from whatever had amused her.

"Fine, fine, I'm okay," she said through her giggling.

"Nrgh... Shego, if you don't—" Drakken said from somewhere in the room Kim couldn't see.

"No, I've got it. Gimme a sec."

Kim watched then as Shego schooled her features with effort, until gone was the flushed expression of laughter. Instead her eyes became dark, almost fearful, but danced with excitement. She straightened up and stuck out her chest a bit as she brought the fan lower, drawing attention to her very exposed bosom.

"Oh, but my lord," Shego said in a surprisingly convincing tone of worry, though she also didn't sound entirely opposed to whatever question she was responding to. "Such things are forbidden!"

Drakken's voice came from somewhere out of sight, dark and commanding. "I am a very powerful man. I can get you anything you desire. As long as...my desires are also fulfilled."

Shego closed the fan and dropped it behind her on the bed. The corner of her mouth quirked upward, but she visibly bit the inside of her cheek to stop it. "And if...my desire is half your wealth?"

Kim's heart was pounding and she was about to close the door when Drakken stepped into view. His grin was wicked and his posture confident as he slowly approached Shego.

"That could be arranged. But it would depend on...how well you perform for me in...various tasks."

Shego's chest heaved as he got closer. "And...which task shall I perform first?"

"Unlace your bodice."

Kim closed the door as silently as she could and then ran back down the hall. She tripped over her skirt and fell just before reaching the corner, and once on the ground she simply gathered up her dress and leaned back against the wall, trying to calm her shaking.

That...was not what she had thought Drakken and Shego were going to use the pan-dimensional vortex inducer for.

"I tell ya, buddy," Ron said to Rufus, perched on his shoulder, "I have never had more love for boxer shorts than I do today."

The naked mole-rat concurred with a nod as Ron walked the maze of halls in his red and black musketeer's attire, a sword at his side that he had to keep one hand on to keep the scabbard from dragging the floor. When they rounded the corner Ron stopped short as he saw Kim sitting at the opposite end of the hallway, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees with her rather tattered skirts surrounding her. She had her head leaned back against the wall and looked very upset.

"Kim!" Ron cried as he ran toward her.

"Shh!" Kim hissed urgently, struggling to her feet and waving him to stop with her hands.

Ron stopped short as he assessed her and tried to make sense of her words. "Are you hurt? Where are Drakken and Shego?"

"No, I'm fine. They're in there," Kim said, pointing to the door Ron had stopped next to. "But— Ron, no!"

Ron was already turning the knob and pushed the door in without a thought. His eyes widened as Rufus let out an alarmed squeal from his shoulder.

A large bed. And on it, dark green skirts and pink stocking-clad knees surrounding a pale blue butt that was thrusting up and down, with tight, dark blue pants pulled down to mid-thigh.

"Ohhh hohohoho no, Kim!" Ron shouted.

He caught a glimpse of green breasts, a terrified green face, and a blue face that seemed to be all mouth as it screamed something at him. He closed his eyes as he turned away rapidly.

"Kim! My eyes, I can't see!" Ron cried, running toward her with his hands in the air as he flailed in panic, eyes tightly closed.

"Ron! I told you not to open the door!"

Green glowing blasts came at them in rapid succession through the door, intermixed with feral feminine shrieks and incoherent masculine shouting that may or may not have contained real words. Ron felt Kim grab his hand as they ran down the hallway, around the corner, and didn't stop until Kim tripped over her skirts and they were forced to pause.

"Kim! Kim! I saw...I saw—"

"I...don't really want to hear it Ron," Kim said. She was painfully sympathetic but also very afraid of what Ron might say.

Ron dropped his head onto Kim's shoulder while Rufus sat almost camouflaged on Kim's pink skirt, scrubbing at his eyes.

"Guess they weren't plotting world domination this time after all," Kim finally sighed.

They sat for a long moment catching their breath, occasionally looking at each other and grimacing. But Ron suddenly remembered something.

"KP... How are we gonna get back? Wade's on that family vacation."

Kim's eyes widened. She thought for a moment and finally frowned in agony.

"I guess...there's only one thing we can do."

A long while later, Drakken unlocked the bedroom door and poked his face cautiously through the small crack he'd made. He peered to the left and right down the empty halls as he tied his hair back with a dark blue ribbon.

"Is the coast clear?" Shego asked, still attempting to tie up her bodice.

Drakken was about to answer when he saw a small piece of paper folded on the ground right in front of the door. He frowned and picked it up.

"What's that?" Shego asked.

Drakken unfolded the paper and read the note aloud.

"We're sorry we walked in on you. We promise never to speak of this again, but we need your help to get home. We're exploring the castle. Come find us when you're done."

"When we're done?" Shego snarled, hurling her pink ribbon down in frustration.

Drakken turned back to look at her, and the furrow in his brow suddenly faded into something thoughtful and a bit devious.

"What?" Shego asked, leaning back on her hands with a sigh.

"They said, 'when we're done'..." he answered, waving the note in the air.

"Yeah, so?"

Drakken's cheeks colored and he cleared his throat, his gaze falling pointedly to her half-covered chest.

Shego's jaw worked silently in shock for a moment, but then she smirked. "It would serve them right, having to wait longer."

Drakken grinned and tossed the note to the ground, closing and locking the door.

"So what does my lord wish on this fine evening?" Shego asked.

[jawnjendes]

shawn meets... | kat

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: sry for the lack of writing lets blame a little green dude. no one cares abt this story anymore lmao anyways this kinda goes with @fourtristattoos spooky fest. i used one quote from the list lol and the oc for this chapter is uh,,, fitting for this fest :) ALSO i know it says k1, but this is the third chapter of the series so go ahead n clicky ze masterlist if u wanna catch up

***let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

previous chapter

kat’s blog | kat’s playlist | masterlist

Five years later.

Despite what the media, the fans, and all of Shawn’s team said five years ago, Shawn has actually been single for six years. Any relationship that was “outed” to the public was merely for promotional purposes. Shawn has kissed whatever person he was supposed to be seen with, and took the backlash from his fans with a smile. He was supposed to be in a happy relationship with the girl he went to university with, no one needed to know the stress and anxiety that weighed down on him, even after that stunt was over.

Thinking back, it really hurt Shawn internally. The stunt with Camila happened only a few short months after the actual relationship with the goth girl from university had ended. Shawn was just reminded of what used to be, and how badly he missed his ex. Wondering what she must think, seeing her ex-boyfriend go after one of her friends. After practically breaking down in front of Andrew, it was discovered that Shawn and Camila were in this for good, for as long as their careers were standing. There would be “break ups” every so often, but there would always be a “getting back together” chapter of this narrative. Shawn really regretted not reading his contract back when he was 21. Camila probably did too, though they didn’t really speak much during that time unless they were staging a date in public.

In the last five years, Shawn and Camila have broken up and gotten back together three times. Singles, albums, or other projects were always announced following these stories, and anyone who was not on Twitter were able to call out their shit. Shawn knew this shit was obvious, painfully obvious, but there were good reasons for keeping this stunt going.

Shawn hasn’t been in a real, serious relationship since university. He’s been on dates and one night stands, but a relationship in this life was nearly impossible. A typical twenty six year old might wonder about settling down, but nothing about this life was typical. Marriage, romance, anything that was remotely stable… Sure, Shawn thought about it every so often, but there was just no time. Not to mention, his PR team was very anal about who he chooses to publicly spend time with if it wasn’t Camila. In the six years he's been going at the music thing, there weren't any signs of slowing down, and Shawn preferred it this way. He wouldn’t know what else to do with his time.

That being said, Shawn made time for pretty ladies, men, and nonbinary friends when he wasn't bombarded with photoshoots, interviews, and a hectic tour schdeule. He went on dates and the public (and sometimes his team) were none the wiser. His sex life was fulfilled, and he had little desire to make relationships with these people. Other times, pretty ladies reached out to him. Like today, for instance.

Shawn was currently off tour and off writing songs for the month, which was perfect timing for a socialite by the name of Sapphire Venus Lilith. She wanted Shawn to be the entertainment at her 27th birthday party in London. The only reason why Andrew approved of it was the amount of zeros on the baby pink check that was sent in advance. Shawn had been in Los Angeles for one day, with plans to hang out with Aria and her fiance, but by the afternoon, he was put on a plane to England.

He had intended to Google this socialite on the flight, just to see what about her was going to make this random show worth it, but he knocked out as soon as he was in the air. There was no time to stop at the hotel either; Apparently, Sapphire demanded they land on her estate. Meaning, this girl was so rich that she could afford a private jet to land on her massive flower garden.

The property was surrounded by lush green trees and a large field that would have been better for the jet to land on. There was a walkway between the two crushed flowerbeds, and it led to a massive, old school mansion. Shawn was looking at the structure through the tiny jet window before following Andrew and Brian out to the walkway.

"You know how I know you've changed?" Andrew said. "We just killed a bunch of daisies, and you didn't even argue."

Shawn looked down at the crushed little plants, trying to identify the petals. "They're jasmines…" He mentally blew a kiss and apologized to the poor plants, as if they had the capacity to appreciate it.

Then, Brian came up on his side. "You think they'll let us stick around for the party after your set?"

"We're here on business," Andrew reminded him.

"All work and no play makes Shawn a dull boy!"

It was a joke, but there was a certain type of energy to that. Shawn woke up this morning with plans to hang out with an old friend and have some normal fun. Instead, it was morning again and he had a job to do. He went up the walkway, staring at the massive structure ahead.

His condo in Toronto felt like a rickety shack compared to this place. The red bricks probably cost more than a single paycheck he gets. The large fountain in the roundabout had scented water spouting out of it and pink rose petals floating around. There was a staircase leading up to the front doors and ramps on either side. Some roadies were walking up and down the ramps, carrying various types of equipment. An elderly butler was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, smiling politely.

"Welcome to the Lilith estate," he greeted to the three men.

Andrew introduced himself first, shaking the man's hand. Then Shawn, then Brian.

"What's your name?" Brian asked.

"Charles, sir," the butler replied, his wise blue eyes lighting up. Probably wasn't asked that too often.

"Good to meet you, Charles!"

"Likewise, Mr. Craigen. Now, if you will all follow me…"

Charles led the three of them up the staircase. He pushed open the massive doors, revealing the inside of the luxurious home. Note: the outside of the mansion was all red brick and dark cobblestones, but the inside was pink. Soft, baby pink. The walls of the entrance hall were white, but the decor, the knickknacks on the long tables, the artwork on the wall, and the chandelier were tinted with pastel pink. It was the first thing anyone would notice stepping in here.

"Would you care for some refreshments, gentlemen?" asked a maid who had walked in, carrying a tray of - you guessed it - pink lemonades, garnished with tiny little yellow flowers. The maid was in a white uniform, a pink flower tucked behind her ear.

They graciously accepted the drinks, thanking the maid who nodded with a smile before disappearing down the hall.

"I thought just her checks were pink," Andrew commented before taking a sip through the straw.

Shawn and Brian agreed, looking around at the frilly room. The rug they were standing on was the loudest of all, being a bright Barbie pink. Wonder what her favorite color is…

Then, Shawn noticed the pink flower in Charles's blazer pocket. It was the same as the maid's one. He tilted his head, studying the ruffly pink petals.

"Is, is that a carnation?" he asked.

Charles glanced down at his blazer. "A peony, actually. Ms. Lilith recently added it to her staff's uniforms. She believes it will 'boost morale,' as she put it."

"Oh." Shawn shouldn't have kicked himself mentally for the mistake. The flower shop kid in him has been dead and gone for a while, anyway.

The further Charles led them into the mansion, the more pink there was. There were also workers moving equipment, tables, and chairs in and out of the vicinity. The party wasn't for another couple of days.

Finally, they stopped in one of the many pastel pink sitting rooms, and even that wasn't empty. Again, white walls, pink furniture. Giant, sparkling chandelier. There was a grand piano (you already know what color) and a girl sitting at the stool with her back to the others, playing a classical song.

Shawn's heart went fast and slow at the same time. This girl was decked out in a black pantsuit and had long dark hair cascading down her back. Even though she was sitting down, Shawn could determine that she was just the right height. There's no fucking way…

"Ms. Adair," Charles politely called from the entrance.

Oh. There really is no fucking way.

The girl turned her head as she kept playing, revealing a pale face, high cheeks, and a strong jawline. Shawn's insides relaxed completely, but also went slightly heavy with disappointment.

"Is Ms. Lilith ready?" Charles asked, voice going softer upon making eye contact.

Ms. Adair's dark eyes flickered over to Shawn. She stopped the classical piece she was playing and instead played the last few notes of Memories. Shawn didn't know how to feel about this.

"Sapphire had a last minute visitor," she finally said as she stood up, her voice even, professional, and very British. She stepped towards the group, her stilettos clacking on the floor. She was honestly really beautiful. She looked nothing like the woman Shawn was thinking of, but Katherine’s neutral expression was uncanny.

"A visitor?" Charles repeated. "Has Mr. Doyle returned once again?"

"I'm not authorized to give specifics but-" Ms. Adair pointed to the ceiling just as a loud bang came from there. Some debris sprinkled down in the space separating her from the group.

Shawn, Brian, and Andrew were equally put off by this, while the two staff members were unfazed. There were several other bangs following, causing more debris to sprinkle down onto the floor.

"I was asked to fill in for her. My name is Katherine Adair, personal assistant to Sapphire Venus Lilith."

"Ah, you're the one I spoke to on the phone," Andrew said, holding out his hand to shake hers.

However, she turned and walked through the other entrance. "If you'll follow me, we will go over to the garden, where the entertainment will take place."

Andrew mostly spoke to her, asking all the questions that Shawn seemed to forget the moment he laid eyes on Ms. Adair. He usually spoke and brainstormed ideas for how the set would look, but his stomach was flipping. He doesn’t have a type, does he? He wouldn’t be putty in the hands of a girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark clothes, would he?

He wouldn’t, because Ms. Adair was very uptight and professional. She remained stone faced when Andrew cracked a joke. They just flew over her head, or maybe she understood them and just chose not to emote. She just let an awkward silence take over until Andrew stuck to the topic at hand.

“So, Ms. Adair, where will the stage be?” he asked.

“This way,” she said, leading them through some French doors and out to the yard. “And please, call me Katherine.”

“Kat?” Shawn tried.

Her dark eyes went over to his. She quirked her eyebrows and said nothing, reminding him too much of-

Brian nudged his friend’s arm as they walked outside. He gave Shawn that look. This girl is hot as fuck. At least that’s probably what Brian thought. Shawn was busy watching Katherine’s general body language.

She stood up straight at all times, her chin up with confidence. She had the same neutral, almost cold look on her face. Speaking of her face, it was white. Very white. The pink blush on her cheeks only emphasized it. But she was still practically flawless. She pursed her lips when she thought about a question Andrew asked her, nearly smoldering. Her eyes were alert when she was spoken to, but something about them seemed different. Did she even blink? She was serious, but not too serious if she gave some type of reaction to Shawn’s nickname for her.

Katherine gestured to the big grassy yard, where the stage was yet to be built. There were workers running around like busy bees, moving around speakers and pink party decorations.

“The set needs to be at most, an hour,” she said, “because after that, we have acrobats coming in, as well as some firebreathers.”

“Wow,” Shawn said, “she’s really going all out, eh?”

“Sapphire does as Sapphire pleases,” Katherine confirmed.

“Are we gonna get to meet the birthday girl anytime soon?” Brian asked, sounding eager.

Katherine checked the time on her black iPhone. “Not until the party, I’m afraid. Oh, and she did want me to inform you all that you are more than welcome to stay and enjoy the party after the set.”

Brian and Shawn shared excited glances. Anytime there was a chance to party, they ran with it. Keeps them young.

“Excellent, I just have to make a phone call,” Andrew said, typing on his phone. He walked in a random direction and pressed the device to his ear.

Katherine turned to the other two boys. “Is there anything I can get for you two? Anymore refreshments, perhaps?”

Shawn looked at the pink lemonade in his hand. He hadn’t even drank it yet. “No thank you. This is fine.”

“Everything is fine,” Brian added.

“How long have you been working here?” Shawn asked her.

“Nine years,” she replied shortly.

“Live nearby?”

“Closer than you can imagine.”

“Is your place pink too?” Brian asked with a chuckle.

Katherine said nothing, only blinking before changing the subject. “Sapphire is very excited for you to be here, Mr. Mendes. You’re one of her favorite singers.”

“Oh, thank you,” Shawn said. “And call me Shawn.”

“Shawnie?” she tried, quirking her eyebrows once again.

He grinned. “You can call me whatever you want.”

~

Shawn wasn’t always the one being pinned against the wall, but Kat was apparently very strong. She was able to reach his height in her stilettos as she hungrily pressed her lips against his. Shawn was already too hot and bothered to notice how cold she was, and he was too busy trying to wrangle his hands free so he could pin her to the hotel room wall.

It was a blur of heat and panting and kissing before Shawn was down to his boxers underneath her, while she was in just a pair of black panties. His hands felt up her thighs, her stomach, and her breasts with fervor.

“You’re fucking freezing,” he said, running his hands over whatever skin he could reach.

Kat hummed as she took his hand from her collarbone. She looked him in the eye as she wrapped her plump, wine colored lips around the tips of his fingers. Her mouth was nowhere near as cold as her body. Warm, soft, inviting… Shawn let out a slow breath, feeling it all the way down in his groin.

She used her mouth on him, practically begging for him to move his hips as well, only intensifying the feel. Kat was relentless, kept going until Shawn was whimpering and coming hard in her mouth. She even insisted that Shawn didn’t have to return the favor. He probably wouldn’t have been able to muster up the energy if he tried. His whole being was just sucked out through his-

“Let me hold you, I’ll keep you warm,” he mumbled as Kat lied down next to him.

“Or maybe I’ll make you cold,” she replied as she moved closer to him. She nuzzled into his side like it was second nature. “I had fun, did you?”

“Yeah,” Shawn sleepily hummed. Not even the chills of Kat’s skin kept him from dozing off.

She was in the exact same position when he woke up. Not a hair on Kat’s head was out of place, her hand was still open on his chest, and her legs were still tangled around his. Shawn didn’t even feel her toss or turn while they slept. In his experience, the one night stand would eventually turn away from him completely, already unconsciously showing their disinterest.

Oh, and Kat was wide awake by the time he started stirring. She picked her head up, dark eyes alert.

“You need anything from me, honey?” he asked as he stretched his legs from the position he was in. Despite what Kat had told him, he wanted another taste of her.

She shook her head. “I only wish to please you.”

He grinned. “It’ll please me if you let me, I don’t know, go down on you?” He left it as an offer, giving her the chance to accept or deny.

Kat returned the smile, revealing a tiny dimple in her cheek. It was a very cute dimple. “What if… you guide me?”

It got Shawn all hot and bothered again, so he accepted. Kat lied on her back and obeyed every touch and caress that was commanded until she was moaning and writhing on top of the sheets. Shawn had his hand in his underwear as he watched, and he tired himself out yet again, and knocked out.

He didn’t know the amount of stamina Kat had. Shawn wouldn’t remember the hickeys he left on her skin because they would be gone the very next day. The only thing he would remember was just how goddamn cold her skin was.

next chapter

______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @justordinaryjen @chillingbythesea @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsunflower @someoneunimportantxx

[niyes-lahiffe]

White Winter Chapter 1

Haaaaaappy holidays, @lady-baguette!! I’m your secret santa, surpriiiiise ;D it took so long to post I’m so SORRY

also a gigantic thanks to @mlsecretsanta for hosting this event! It’s my first time participating and I’ve had a blast! So, without further ado, let’s begin, shall we?

The classmates simply thought it was an insane snowstorm. No one expected it to get THIS crazy.

Ao3

Adrien stared at the window in awe as the snowflakes continued to gently fall on the ginormous pile they created. He had never seen so much snow, much less expected so much to appear in such a short amount of time. It had been snowing for about 4 minutes and the snow already rose well over Ivan's head in height.

He joined his other classmates by the window and pressed his face against the cold surface. Not only was the amount of snow great, but the way it descended was mesmerizing. He felt like he could stare at it forever.

A thrilled chatter started to buzz throughout the room, Adrien smiling to himself when he already heard Alix tell Kim how she was going to demolish him in snowboarding later. The excitement soon died down, however, when Mm. Bustier walked over to the window with a worried look.

"I get that you're all excited about the snow," she began, "but how do you plan on getting home?"

The moment the question was delivered, the entire classroom went eerily silent. All mouths closed immediately and wary eyes were cast. The snow didn't seem so exhilarating anymore.

"Something doesn't seem right here," Marinette spoke up, inspecting the snow suspiciously with a scrunched-up nose. Once she had gathered the attention of her classmates, she continued, her eyes not leaving the window, "It's never snowed this much in Paris before! I think this is a lot more than just a crazy snowstorm."

"What do you think it is, Marinette?" Adrien asked after taking a moment to contemplate what she had said. She turned to him with a determined expression, though her cheeks were a pleasant pink and she had jumped a little when he started talking.

"An akuma," she responded simply.

Though he gasped at her words, Adrien couldn't help but admire the girl's ambition. Her intelligence and willingness to help made her the perfect choice to be the class president.

"An akuma?" Alya said, snapping Adrien from his thoughts. She slapped the palm of her hand against her forehead and laughed at herself. "How didn't I think of that?! There's no other reasonable explanation!"

"Sounds like your journalism skills might be weakening, Alya," Marinette giggled, poking her best friend in the side and winking while Nino chuckled beside her.

"You need to step up your game, babe," Nino chided with a smirk.

"No, what I need is to chase after that akuma!" Alya grabbed Nino's wrist and he yelped when she potently yanked him out of the room, chanting, "And you're coming with me!" as she went.

"Be careful!" their teacher managed to shout before they got out of earshot.

Adrien sighed. "My best friend's been abducted again..." Beside him, Marinette giggled. Adrien was slightly surprised to find himself swelling with pride, as though making the girl laugh was a huge accomplishment.

Kim went over to the door and opened it, only to be met by a powerful gust of wind and snow that knocked him onto his back. The rest of the class squawked at the cold, holding their arms to their faces to avoid being plummeted by the oncoming snow. Alix managed to trudge through it, slamming the door shut with a strained grunt. She then acknowledged the pile of snow in front of her and leaned down to poke it.

"Yo, Kim, you alive?"

He suddenly poked his head out of the pile and shook his head to get snow off his face. "Man...the snow couldn't have waited until we got home for Christmas break?" he mumbled.

"Actually, it's really Hawkmoth that couldn't wait, if our assumptions about it being an akuma are correct," Max chimed in.

"'Evil mastermind'," Alix said with a roll of her eyes, air-quoting the words. "Doesn't Hawkmoth have anything better to do?"

"Apparently not," Kim muttered sourly. "No Christmas spirit whatsoever. He's like the Grinch but he doesn't have the potential to be better."

"What happened to Nino and Alya?" Mylene inquired. "They walked out of the same door literally ten seconds before Kim did, and nothing happened then!"

"This storm is getting worse by the minute..." Marinette murmured, mostly to herself.

Adrien glanced around the room worriedly. If it really was an akuma, he needed to find a fast way out so he could transform. His eyes landed on the window.

It can't be that easy...

"Maybe we can go through the window!" he tried, noticing his voice rising a few octaves due to him trying to hide the true fact of why he needed to leave. "The massive pile of snow should be able to stop our fall!" He wasn't sure whether he should've been surprised or relieved when the rest of the class agreed with him excitedly, but he decided not to question it as he went to the freezing window and opened it. Another gust of wind whipped at his face but he held on sturdily, positioning himself before giving a mighty leap.

It really was that easy.

------------------------------

"ALYA!" Nino yelped, holding his arm in front of his face in an attempt to block the onslaught of snow.

Alya stopped and turned towards him with a raised eyebrow, a smirk planted on her face. "Hmm?"

His teeth were chattering relentlessly, though he tried his best to get his words out. "W-what exactly are we d-d-doing here?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, hoping that would somehow warm himself up a bit. "I know you're n-not going after the akuma t-to take pictures of it."

Alya tilted forward with lidded eyes and placed a finger underneath his chin, her actions causing the boy's eyes to widen in surprise. "You know exactly why we're here.." A chill went down Nino's spine, whether it was from the cold or from the girl in front of him he didn't know.

He gulped. "I do?"

She leaned back and pulled her hair up, revealing a small, orange creature sleeping on her shoulders. Nino released the breath he didn't know he was holding, nodding in understanding as he took off his cap to uncover his own kwami.

Trixx yawned and stretched before flying off Alya's shoulder to give his holder a playful pat on the nose. "Ready for some action, then?" her kwami inquired with a spark in his eyes.

"You bet I am!" Alya responded excitedly.

"Wayzz, dude, please save me from this cold," Nino begged, earning a snicker from his kwami.

"I'd be happy to oblige, master," Wayzz replied. Nino rolled his eyes at the nickname but decided to ignore it for the sake of time.

A moment later, Carapace and Rena Rouge were doing their best trying to get through the monstrous amounts of snow. They complained about how difficult it was, but fortunately they weren't freezing anymore. They had eventually decided to let Carapace go head-first into the snow with his shield in order to make a path for Rena to follow. It worked, not to mention the way Carapace yelled like a madman as he trudged through had Rena guffawing hysterically.

Both superheroes were fairly surprised to find the other three heroes standing in the park. As they joined their friends, they found the fact that the park had little to no snow on it puzzling, albeit perhaps a bit concerning.

"What took you guys so long?" Ladybug asked once they appeared, smiling nonetheless.

Rena gestured to the snow and raised an eyebrow as though that was explanation enough. Chat Noir laughed. "Why didn't you guys just jump across the buildings?"

Rena lowered her hand, a look of pure defeat written across her face. "Oh."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't jump very well, Chat Noir," Carapace teased, his girlfriend adding an encouraging, "Yeah!".

"This akuma better be worth it," Queen Bee interrupted sourly. "I had to jump out of my classroom's window to make it here!" Her words had the others snickering, much to her confusion.

"Oh, FINALLY you're here.." an unknown yet unamused voice interjected. Everyone gasped and looked up, all growling when the akuma was finally in sight.

She looked like a haughty old rich women, probably akumatized because she didn't get what she wanted. She was sitting on a huge, white cloud almost as fluffy as the snow-colored scarf she wore, matching the pale color of her skin. It appeared as though she couldn't care less about the heroes in front of her, deciding her nails she was filing were a lot more important at the moment. "I've been waiting for ages," she murmured. A purple butterfly silhouette appeared around her eyes and the akuma's lip curled with annoyance. She clearly didn't want to pay much attention to what Hawkmoth had to say, but she finally glanced at the heroes below her and put her nail filer away. "Just hand over the miraculouses and we can be done."

Queen Bee scoffed. "As if I'd give my miraculous to a crazy old rich coot!"

The akuma stared at her for a brief moment with wide eyes. After a few seconds had passed, however, her expression changed, and she looked livid. "A crazy old rich coot, you say?" she spoke with eerily calm ferocity. "I'll show you 'crazy old rich coot'."

"Thaaaat probably wasn't the best thing to say, Queenie," Chat squeaked as he took a defensive stance.

"Oh. Oops."

------------------------------

Rena Rouge cried out once again due to another blow in the stomach. The akuma, who they earlier had found out was named White Winter, really was much tougher than she looked. Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Queen Bee had all disappeared due to a flurry of snow-themed attacks. Rena refused to let the same happen to Carapace, who fought by her side. Even so, White Winter attacked mercilessly.

"How can she be this good?" Carapace muttered through strained teeth as he blocked another attack with his shield.

"I told you not to underestimate me, children," White Winter responded. Her tranquil attitude as she fought like fire threw both heroes off. With sudden speed, she flipped onto her back and twirled almost majestically, kicking Carapace's shield and Rena's flute out of their hands respectively. When the akuma was back up, she kicked Rena harshly in the belly once more, knocking the hero a good few meters away, before wrapping her arms around Carapace.

Rena growled furiously, "Let. Him. Go."

"Hmmm, I don't think so," White Winder replied, looking down at the struggling hero in her arms. Carapace's snarling was muffled by her scarf, but he just couldn't seem to get a grip steady enough to escape. The akuma lifted one of her arms and Rena could make out some sort of small, white object in her hand, though she couldn't identify what exactly it was. "This is what you get for calling me a 'crazy old rich coot'!"

Rena roared and leaped after the akuma holding her partner captive, unfortunately not before the supervillain threw down the object in her hand. It created a huge cloud of dust, stopping the superhero in her tracks. She held her arms in front of herself and coughed a few times, not enjoying the feeling the dust had in her throat in the slightest. She tried waving her arms to perhaps blow it away, but to no avail.

When it finally cleared, White Winter was gone, taking Carapace in her wake.

------------------------------

Nino groaned, feeling his head throb miserably. Why did everything hurt...?

He slowly opened his eyes, surprised by how much energy it took. He was definitely not prepared for what his eyes would witness once he could make out the picture before him.

Everything was purple. And not a cute fairy tail purple, no, this purple was almost...eerie. But nothing was creepier than the figure that stood a distance away, staring out of his giant, intricately designed window.

Wait. Was that...?

No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

It was then Nino realized he was sitting on a chair. And he was tied to it. That was worrisome. He struggled a bit in an attempt to loosen the ropes, before a deep and sinister voice interrupted, causing the boy to stop in his tracks.

"Ah, Carapace. Glad you're finally awake." The figure turned around, and Nino's heart caught in his throat. "Or should I say...Nino Lahiffe?"

Nino wanted to gasp but he found his throat dry. He looked down and that's when his blood plummeted.

He was wearing his everyday attire. Not his superhero suit.

His heart started racing as he begun to dread the worst. He craned his head and tried looking at his wrists tied behind his back, hoping, PRAYING-

"Looking for something?" Hawkmoth interrupted, causing Nino to jump and nearly fall over. When he looked back up, his heart fell into the sole of his feet.

Hawkmoth was holding up his wrist, which was holding an unmistakable piece of jewelry.

The miraculous of the turtle.

Hawkmoth only chuckled at Nino's shocked and devastated reaction before turning back to the window.

"Master..are you alright?" Nino nearly jumped out of his skin when the soft voice beside his ear spoke up. There were too many things going on at once and he had to take a moment to catch his breath when he realized it was only Wayzz.

"I've been better," Nino whispered back after a moment.

At that, Wayzz smiled. He zipped behind his holder for a second and Nino let out a quiet breath of relief when he felt the ropes loosen around his hands. Soon, the ropes around his waist loosened, as well, before Wayzz floated back up to the boy's face.

"I can't grab my miraculous," the kwami murmured sadly. "It'd be too difficult to grab it off his wrist without him noticing me."

"Wait...what's Hawkmoth's miraculous?" Nino asked, keeping an eye on the man a ways away in case he heard anything.

"It's a brooch." Both Nino and Wayzz stared at each other with wide eyes before they nodded in unison.

Wayzz darted back over to Hawkmoth without another word. Nino watched as his kwami, as fast as a bullet, snatched the miraculous resting on Hawkmoth's chest and tossed it in his direction with a warning cry.

"NO!" Hawkmoth roared, turning and reaching for the miraculous, though his actions deemed unsuccessful. Nino gripped onto the brooch as though his life depended on it as Hawkmoth's transformation fell, agonizingly slowly yet quicker than Nino would've liked.

None other than Gabriel Agreste stood in the place of Hawkmoth

[love-reinette]

One Year Later

august 1946. nagasaki, japan.

Ft, Payne Zile Queen

How am I supposed to live without you?

A lone figure stood in black, a bouquet of black roses in her arms. The wind brushed her hair in a gentle caress as she stood with her eyes closed. One year ago...her life had forever changed. She had never forgotten the solemn look on the two soldiers’ faces as they stood on her doorstep giving her the news. She had been cleaning the house, getting it ready for his arrival home. Clarisse was more than ready for the future. She and Payne had plans. They were going to go away together, that was for one thing. They each had healing to do. She was just beginning to feel better. As long as she didn’t go near the nursery door, which he had padlocked shut. It was something they were aiming to clean together. He also hadn’t wanted her to go in alone. That was her love. Payne Queen had loved her since she was 21 and she had loved him too. He was considerate of her in every way. Instead, his trunk sat in their living room. It was all she would get back. Letters filled with condolences, medals, all the things befitting his rank. Everything except him. She couldn’t even bury him. There was nothing left of him. Instead, there was a memorial plaque in the garden of her French chateau. It read his name and a quote from Beethoven, whom they both had admired. ‘Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.’ Pushing the thoughts from her still fragile mind, the vampire sighed deeply, walking through the barren landscape. Fog surrounded her, a gift, she supposed, along with the overcast sky. Perfect conditions for her to walk in the daylight hours. She raised her hand to the necklace she wore, a locket with his picture and a lock of his dark hair, and gave it a gentle caress. It had been with her all through her imprisonment during the war. She had managed to keep it and now, it was especially precious to her. Had it been a year already? A year prior, the United States had dropped two atomic bombs on Japan; one in Nagasaki and one in Hiroshima. The impact was still felt even now. People bore the scars both physically and emotionally. The war had ended shortly after, with the Japanese surrendering. No one dared to continue a war where such weapons could be used again. That they existed was horrifying to accept. No sort of weapon that could cause that much damage should be in the hands of humans. Still. Peace reigned. For now. Yet, for Clarisse, who had been working through her own traumas, this latest blow--the loss of her lover, it was nearly too much. She had spent a few months in a hospital, trying to make sense of things. But the stress, the trauma, the grief, all of it--it was too much. She had gone months without feeding, considering death an all too welcome choice. What was life if all she was going to feel was pain? She hadn’t a taste for it. Her friends had seemingly abandoned her--not a single one came to see her. None sympathized, nor expressed condolences. Whether they’d abandoned her or had too much in their own lives going on, Clarisse could not say, but it made her bitter. She who would have dropped everything if they needed her, was very much alone. It was this bitterness that had taken hold of her heart and her mind, and she had left the hospital as abruptly as she had arrived. Death came in the form of a mourning vampiress, one who did not care how many people she had to kill, but if it quelled her agony, she would do it. She had returned to Germany and weeded out the SS and Nazis, ripping them apart and leaving grotesque displays for all to see. The more they had begged her to stop, the more vicious she became. No one had stopped when she asked them to. Had they stopped when they'd tormented those in their camps? Yet one afternoon, she had heard his voice. “Risse...this isn’t you…” She had tried to dismiss it as her mind playing tricks, but she could feel his presence. He was surrounding her. If she closed her eyes, she would have sworn that she could smell his cologne and feel his hands resting on her hips. Clarisse kept her eyes closed. If they were closed, he was here. It was the first moment of peace she'd felt in months. “Payne…my love...” she uttered softly, tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt his lips press to her forehead and felt his sadness wash over her. She was disappointing him. That was more than she could bear. What good did this savagery do? It had brought her nothing but more pain. It had caused others pain, and it made her as bad as those she hated. And from that moment, she had resigned herself to honoring Payne’s memory. That was what had brought her here to this sacred place. And it was, indeed, sacred. So many thousands had died here. Lost their lives. Clarisse dearly hoped that someday, they would mark this place, as they planned to in Hiroshima, as a memorial. Though his name would not ever be listed amongst them, she wanted this to be somewhere she could visit and mourn with others. They too had the right to stand here and try to make peace with everything. However, the vampire was not inclined as to how to convinced the government to build a memorial. As she stood there, where the bomb had fallen one year prior, Clarisse let the energy fill her. It was, unsurprisingly, sad. Kneeling, she set the bouquet on the dirt and rested her hands on the ground, as if that would implore the earth to give up her lover. Tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the gravel. “My love, can you hear me?” she whispered. Her hands grasped at the earth, nails dug into it, and she wept, her entire body quivering as she openly sobbed, watering the ground with her tears. “I”m here. I came here for you. I came to bear witness.” She had wanted to come in the days just after the bombings but had been told it was far too dangerous for her to do so. The radiation and the fires--not to mention, she likely wouldn’t have been welcomed. The Japanese would view her as an outsider and it was better that she wait. Clarisse had finally given in and agreed to wait. Now, she was here. The silence was deafening. It was strange to be in a place where she didn’t need to block the thoughts and voices of others. It was simply that barren of life here. Her chest hurt as she took a deep breath. Had he been scared? Did he know it was coming? Had he sensed that there was something massive coming? Selfishly, she wondered if he'd thought of her before the bomb had landed, and cleared everything out for miles around. At least here, it hadn’t been as built up as Hiroshima, but still...equally as devastating. She had listened to accounts of it on the radio, read about it in papers, and magazines. She’d listened to people speaking of it. People were vaporized. Here one moment, gone the next. She hated to imagine that was what had happened to Payne, but as there was nothing left...she choked back another sob as the visual came to her mind and she clutched at the ground anew. “I miss you. I don’t know how to go through this without you. You’ve been a presence in my life since I was young. You’ve guided me. Loved me. Taught me. Protected me. What is my life now? I’m a broken thing, Payne, I swear sometimes you're here...I can hear you. I can feel you. But when I wake, it's simply darkness there,” she uttered. “Now I have to try and figure it all out. I don’t know who I am without you. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I called upon your mother and your father, I begged them to hear me...to give you back, but there was nothing. No one. I called to God and I pleaded with Him, and there was nothing. I have asked for help. I’ve begged for mercy. I have done everything I could possibly do...I call out to you and there’s silence. My biggest fear was to be alone...and here I am,” she whispered. “Alone.” Standing up slowly, she began to scatter the flowers, watching as the wind blew some away. “I am sorry to all who died here,” she apologised as if she had anything to do with the bombings. “I never would have wanted such a violent end, even for those who are my enemy. How many of you were just trying to live your everyday lives? How many of you were just here to help others? Every life here had meaning; had a purpose. And in the blink of an eye...” She shuddered, remembering images of the mushroom clouds. How many of those who had died were elderly? Young? Newly married? How many children died? There were so many questions and not enough answers. She shivered as cold air encircled her and she wrapped her arms around her frame. Once more, she felt his presence and as she closed her eyes again, she reached a hand out. Perhaps he could pull her through to wherever he was. Bring her from this place and into the next life--if there was one. She didn't know what to make of it all. Was it madness that had brought her here? Was she crazy, thinking he could take her from this place? She knew her mind was playing tricks and as she opened her eyes, she could make out a figure in the fog. She gasped softly, feeling a gentle sensation through her arm as if someone were brushing their finger along the length. She made a promise there, that every year, she would return. She would mourn the dead and mourn her husband. Though not legally married, they may as well have been. They called her his widow, why shouldn't she allow herself to accept the position--as unwanted as it was. The ambient surroundings seemingly came alive as bells began to ring in the distance and there was some singing. She didn't understand it but knew that they too were mourning the dead. It was time for her to go. The damp air was making her shiver and she was dirty. Not to mention, it wasn't bringing him back to her. Not that she really thought it would. Once she made her way back to her car, the driver drove her back to her hotel in silence. There was nothing that really needed to be said. Clarisse sighed softly as she stepped back into the plush building. Pausing as she passed by the grand ballroom. Within, someone was at the piano and they were playing 'Moonlight Sonata.' It took all of her will to make it to her room before sinking down onto her bed, weeping anew. Of all the songs....it could only validate that perhaps, even though he wasn't physically here, Payne was still with her. Reminding her, gently, to live. That she would endure, he would always be present in some way. And yet...it only hurt her more because she missed him so terribly. Demons were not all evil. Her beloved was not--and wherever he was, he had her heart and she had his. She knew that. He'd told her so countless times and if she hadn't, she doubted that he'd have come searching for her in the middle of enemy territory during a world war. Payne Zile Queen had left far too soon. But perhaps...he would live on. Through her.

[my-dear-hammy]

Basking in Firelight:Jamilton Sequel

Masterpost

Chapter Seventy-One: Oath of Office

AN

So, I wanna know, because I'm curious, what part of this story, all of it, including the first book, was the most painful?

I can't believe I actually wrote this chapter....

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Secondly, I was tagged. I forgot to do this forever ago and getting tagged again reminded me, so I'm going to do one here and one on the next chapter at the end. And if I forget to add it when I publish, someone scream at me.

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Warnings below

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"The elections? It's that time already?" Jefferson asked, throwing a newspaper on the coffee table and stalking over to his desk.

"Yep," Hamilton replied without a care in the world, turning a page in his book as he lounged on the couch.

Jefferson snatched some paperwork off his desk, slipped on his reading glasses and stalked over to Hamilton, who immediately lifted his legs so Jefferson could sit and replaced them on his lap. "Just you wait, Alexander, one of these days you'll hate elections just as much as I do."

Hamilton rose an eyebrow, "I thought you were all for a republican form of government? Changing your mind?"

"Don't be idiotic, I just don't like being in them."

"It's not so bad, Thomas," Hamilton chuckled.

"Easy for you to say, your entire life has been about gaining power and influence."

"I think that at this point I can't go any higher unless I wanted to take over the world," Hamilton pointed out.

"You know what people say about reaching your peak," Jefferson smiled.

"Oh shut it," Hamilton threw a throw pillow at him. Jefferson blocked it easily and went back to his paperwork. Hamilton found himself unable to focus on the sentences he was reading and tossed his book aside and sighed, "I miss everyone. I miss Lafayette and Mulligan and Laurens."

Jefferson looked up and smiled softly, entangling his hand in Hamilton's, "Have you texted Lafayette and Mulligan at all since they've been in France? How long has it been? Two years?"

"Three since Lafayette left and four since Mulligan took off on his fashion tour. I would've thought he would have been done by now."

Jefferson chuckled, "Lafayette and Mulligan are very comfortable where they're at. Very comfortable."

Hamilton matched his gaze and grinned, "About bloody time! How long has that been going on?"

"A year?" Jefferson guessed.

"Why didn't I ever hear of this?!"

"I dunno, ask Laf."

Hamilton whipped out his phone and immediately went on rant mood, just like Lafayette had freaked the first time he discovered there was something between him and Jefferson. Meanwhile, Jefferson's thoughts returned to the elections, his gut tightened slightly, there was no doubt that they'd be reelected, then it'd be another four years of endless, tireless work. As long as he had Hamilton by his side he'd be fine. "Who do you think are going to be the vice presidents?" he asked suddenly.

***

"Congratulations!" Lafayette and Mulligan yelled through the skype call.

Hamilton, Jefferson, Burr, Madison, Peggy, and James Monroe were all gathered in a room celebrating their elections. Jefferson and Hamilton had Burr and Madison pegged as Vice's but Peggy and Monroe were a surprise. They were all laughing and drinking pleasantly.

"Oh!" Lafayette said happily, suddenly remembering something, "There's something I gotta tell you. Big news!"

"Spill!" Hamilton immediately commanded.

"Herc got his memories back!" Lafayette announced, Mulligan grinning semi sheepishly.

"Took you long enough," Burr laughed.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Monroe asked.

"What's this about regained memories?" Peggy asked.

The other six froze, they had completely forgotten about Peggy and Monroe in their drunken state, they had no idea what was going on and the six of them just made a massive slip up.

"Oh, Herc had an accident a while back on his tour. Hit his head pretty hard, something went blank, but now he's got it all back," Jefferson lied smoothly, pretty much swapping his own story for Mulligans. The world still didn't know about Jefferson's memory loss, just his immediate group of friends. They aimed to keep it that way, besides, the only person that could really tell was Hamilton.

Monroe and Peggy nodded, buying the story. "Oh! Jefferson! You get to take the Oath of Office again!" Lafayette shouted, "aren't you excited."

"You bet," Jefferson said before saying under his breath so only those with their past memories could hear, "Does it count as breaking the law if I serve more than two terms over different lifetimes?" This was technically his fourth term. They all chuckled. "What about you, Alexander?" Jefferson asked.

Hamilton's cheeks immediately colored, "Yeah, definitely," he said smoothly. He had something planned and it was a surprise.

"Well, it's not happening for a while, Burr's and Adams' term still has to finish," Jefferson reminded everyone.

"I never thought I'd be relieved to return to the seat of vice instead of president," Burr commented.

Everyone who remembered the past chuckled. How ironic.

***

"Alexander! What's taking you so long? You're going to make us late to the Oath of Office ceremony!" Jefferson called from outside their bedroom's bathroom door.

"Okay, okay!" Hamilton called, "I'm coming." Hamilton set his hand on the door knob and took a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He would never do this in a million years, but here he was, doing exactly that.

A bet was a bet.

Hamilton swung the door open and emerged with a haughty confidence that only he could pull off. Jefferson stopped dead.

Hamilton was wearing a dress.

Then he burst out laughing. "Alexander, what are you wearing?"

"A dress," Hamilton snapped.

"Okay, but to the Oath of Office? You can't be serious?"

"Look, it was a bet, alright? I forgot about it the first time we were elected in, but I remembered this time and I don't break promises."

"What kind of bet was this?" Jefferson laughed.

"One between you and me. I said if you were ever elected president, you had to answer the White House door in your pajamas. Your reply was that if I was ever elected that I had to take the Oath in a dress. I don't think you were completely serious or you were sure I'd never be elected, but either way, we made a bet. You followed through on your end after the election of 1800, now it's my turn.

Jefferson was grinning broadly, "You know, I have absolutely no memory of this, you could have gotten away with not doing it."

"I never break a promise."

Jefferson stepped forward and pulled Hamilton to him, kissing him deeply. "You look marvelous," he finally said as he broke off the kiss. And he really did, Hamilton wore a dark green that almost bordered black fabric that brought out his eyes brilliantly. It was sleek, formal, and composed, Hamilton commanded it with such an air that no one would be able to say anything against him.

"This makes up for being elected again," Jefferson smirked.

"I will shove my heel in your eye."

As they walked out the door, Hamilton muttered, "I can't believe I have to do this."

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Warnings: Threats of violence, fluff, mentions of drinking, cross-dressing.

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Tagged by I_dont_know_2414 of Wattpad Love ya!!

Say your favorite quote.

...Fuck, I know too many. Umm. How about I do one of my top favorites? "I cannot live without books." -Thomas Jefferson

Say the last song you listened to

Hero of War

Show us your lock screen

Well, there was a photo here but it’s gone because I’m on my computer. It’s a picture I took of a water fall in Oregan

Say your fav animal

Raven-most people mistake them for crows

Show us epic pic

I took this pic in my backyard. Introducing the Arizona sky

Also now MIA. Just imagine the most beautiful streaks of gold, pink and orange in the sky.

Tell us a book suggestion(s)

The Throne of Glass series by Sarah J Mass or if you want to nerd out to history with me, Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger

Show us a pic of an attractive person

Shit. I don't have one on me

Tell a random fact about yourself

Umm...asking the hard questions, aren't we? Yes. Umm. Fact. I have one of those old wax stamps that they used to use to sign and seal letters. I use it to sign and seal letters. It's really cool. It goes well with my quill.

Tell a wish that you have or want to become true.

Travel the whole world

[im-most-definitely-fangirling]

Not So Innocent After All

Pairing: Dean x reader (Y/N)

Word count: 3898 words (this ended up getting waaaay longer than I expected...)

Warnings: some smut and a cute Sammy.... I think that’s it :)

Summary: You are on a witch hunt with the boys when a spell is cast on you and Dean. Will he find out that you have a crush on him?

A/N: This was written for @whispersandwhiskerburn Much Ado About SPN challenge. my prompts were the Shakespeare quote: “If music be the food of love, play on” (Twelfth Night I.1) and words Impala, Iron, and Innocence. couldn’t really find a way to work Iron into it, so i skipped that :) A big thanks to Angel, since she helped me through this and betaed for me, also, it was basically her challenge that made me start writing fanfic in the first place. THANK YOU ANGEL <3 I think that was all i had to say for now. Happy reading :)

Ever since you first laid eyes on the older Winchester, you had had the biggest crush on him. Mr. Sex-On-Legs had saved you from a big bad werewolf a couple of years prior, and you had decided to join him and his brother in the eternal battle against supernatural evil. Dean had rejected your application as their new partner in crime in the beginning, but since you had nowhere else to go (and a pair of puppy dog eyes as good as Sam’s) he couldn’t refrain from letting you tag along.

Sam quickly became the little brother you never had, and Dean, well, not so much. You knew he thought of you as more of a little sister than anything else, and though it sometimes was extremely painful not being able to tell him how you really felt about him, you wouldn’t dare risk your friendship and your inclusion in the Winchester family. In the beginning, you thought that he actually liked you back, but as it turns out, Dean flirts shamelessly with every girl he meets. It broke your heart into a million pieces the night you realized how wrong and naive you had been.

Sam had been the first one to notice it, and since he knew about the feelings you had for his brother, he quickly threw some more books in front of you, trying to distract you with more research material before you saw the deep purple hickey peeking out from atop of the green-eyed hunters collar. The sudden thud of books landing on the table in front of you had the complete opposite effect though, making you look up at Sam with the intention of complaining about being tired or needing a cup of coffee or whatever the hell would get you out of research duty at least for a couple of minutes. You straightened up in your chair, arching your back and stretching your arms above your head, about to fake a yawn, when your eyes drifted to Dean, seeing the purple mark left uncovered by his shirt as his head was tilted away from you.

You stared in complete and utter disbelief for what seemed like minutes, before the sadness and despair arose from deep within you. You felt stupid and worthless as you rose from the chair in the bunker’s library that you had claimed as your own, trying to hide the fact that tears were beginning to slowly make their way down your cheeks, only just managing to hold in the first few sniffles and sobs until your bedroom door was locked behind you and the dam broke. That night, Sam had come knocking on your door, and you ended up lying wrapped in his arms, sniffling every few minutes while he ran his fingers through your hair, trying to comfort you. Eventually the tears subsided, and you fell asleep laying on the younger Winchester’s firm chest.

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was nowhere to be seen. You sat in your bed, contemplating whether you should get up, when you suddenly remembered what happened last night. You buried your face in your soft pillow, fighting off the tears that were starting to well up in your eyes.  Eventually the urge to bawl your eyes out faded, and you were able to reach for your phone and earbuds, determined to drown yourself in music until you forgot about the green-eyed hunter. Not that you believed that would ever really happen.

About an hour later you heard a faint knock on the door. “Come in!” you yelled, knowing from experience that sound didn’t travel easily through the massive wooden doors. The hinges creaked as it was pushed open, Sam’s large frame stepping into the room. “‘morning,” he said, handing you a large cup of coffee and setting a plate with toast on the little round table beside the bed. “I figured you wouldn’t want to leave your bed just to get breakfast, considering what happened last night.” He smiled kindly at you, compassion evident in his face. You assured him that you were fine, that your behavior had only been because of the shock. He didn’t buy it.

Before stepping back out into the hallway, he said one of the few things you really didn’t feel like hearing. “We caught a case.”

The six hour drive to Sutherland, Iowa could easily have been the longest six hours of your life. With Dean constantly complaining about having to deal with witches, only stopping to bicker with Sam about his choice of music, you were already rather fed up after half an hour in Baby. Reaching into your pocket to retrieve your earbuds, ready to escape this world and sink into the world of your favorite music, you groaned as you finally found out what you had forgotten.

You would have been forced to listen to the noise coming from the front seats, most likely having gone insane by the time you reached your destination, if Sam hadn’t been the sweetheart that he was. His large hand reached out behind him, dropping your forgotten pair of earbuds into your outstretched hand. Uttering a quick thank you, you plugged them into your phone, shooting him a small smile in the process.

The witches weren’t very good at covering up their tracks, and since their motives shined through clearly in all the incidents, tracking the bitches down was a piece of cake. But killing them wasn’t.

Apparently, there were more witches than expected. Counting on a coven of about 3-4 witches, the shock that hit you all when you were suddenly surrounded by a coven twice as big, chanting weird shit and casting spells, was immense. But you didn’t lose hope.

It was quiet now, the atmosphere almost eerie, as you laid on the ground clutching your shoulder, still hurting from when you were thrown against the concrete wall. Though you were a bit dizzy, and the back of your head was hurting, you doubted that you had taken any real damage. Running your hand over the sore area behind your hair, you felt a wetness cover your fingers. Blood. “Damn it,” you thought, “why the hell do they always have to throw us around? Can’t they just pin us to the wall instead of sending us flying straight into one?”

Sam had seen the pained expression on your face when you had tried to asses the damage on your head, and strode over to you, lifting you up bridal style. He blatantly ignored your request to be put down, instead calling for Dean to come with you, telling him that you might need stitches, but otherwise you seemed fine. He couldn’t rule out a concussion yet though, so while you were extremely exhausted, they decided to keep you awake until you got back to the bunker.

Wanting to keep an eye on you to make sure you wouldn’t fall asleep, the brothers decided that you should sit between them in the front, but that proved much more difficult than it sounded. Normally, there was just about the amount of space needed for the brothers to sit comfortably together on the black bench seat, so instead of sitting between them, you ended up more or less sitting on the younger brother’s lap.

After a while Dean pulled into a gas station, filling up Baby’s tank before disappearing through the automatic doors of the little store, only to come back with a couple cans of Rockstar, handing you one with the instruction to “drink up.” And then you were back on the road.

That’s when it happened. You were just beginning to feel the effect of the energy drink, not feeling nearly as sleepy as before, when the headache started. It wasn’t that bad really, so you just suffered in silence as usual, right until it became too much.

You were just about to tell them about it, when it all went black. You heard the faint sound of screeching tires, Baby’s screeching tires, before you were pulled so deep into the darkness, that you wondered if you’d ever find your way out. And that was your last thought before the nothingness consumed you.

When you finally woke up, you were laying in bed. But it wasn’t your bed. It was Dean’s. Looking around, hoping to see something that might explain why you weren’t in your own bed, you pulled the covers aside, stepping out onto the cold floor, nearly face planting in the process. Why were you so close to the ceiling? And why could you feel the cold air against your chest? With a frown on your face you took a quick look down your body, letting out a very manly scream as you realized why you were in Dean’s bed. Fucking witches.

Rummaging through Dean’s messy dresser, you managed  to find a pair of plaid PJ pants. Being in too much distress to care about trying to find a shirt, you walked into the bunker’s kitchen bare-chested, earning yourself a weird look from the always early-rising moose as you stood there with your hand on your hip. “ Guess who, Sammy!” you said, sounding way too cheery to be Dean. And Sam picked up on that too, his eyes narrowing before blowing wide open. “Y/N?” he said, “is that you?” He got up from his chair, walking towards you. “Bingo Moose! Damn, even from up here you’re a giant,” you exclaimed, earning yourself his signature bitch face as you ruffled his hair. Annoyed Sam looked so much cuter from this angle, all pouty and… well, cute. It made you want to ruffle his hair again, but you were hungry, and getting an ass-kicking before breakfast wasn’t exactly on your plan for the day.

You were half way through your third bowl of cereal, when you heard the scream. Sam stood up and were on his way to pick up his gun, when he remembered that you weren’t in danger, that it was most likely just Dean finally waking up, discovering that he now had boobs, and nothing dangling between his legs. For his sake, you hoped that you would soon figure out how to switch you back, otherwise, poor little  Dean would get to experience a visit from a bitchy mother nature. Awesome.

When Dean finally entered the kitchen, you struggled to contain the laughter bubbling up inside you, only just managing to not spit out your cereal and roll around on the floor, trying not to die of laughter. Your - his - hair was a mess, and the clothes he was wearing… Damn. Despite the fact that all you had in your closet was basic Winchester-style clothing, though with a couple of short dresses and some bras added in, he had somehow managed to not make his clothing items match. And he wasn’t wearing a bra. No, you hadn’t exactly expected that he would come into the kitchen looking like a freakin’  model, but he could at least have put on a bra and brushed your hair. What a catastrophe.

Before he even got to the table you were standing, pulling him back towards your room, small tingling spurts shooting from where your skin touched his, spreading quickly through your body. You had to fix this mess.

As soon as the door to your room had closed behind the two of you, you went over to your dresser, digging a bit around in it, trying to find the comfiest pair of panties you had, when you remembered that they were still in the laundry, along with most of your other panties. Having only thongs and normal lacy panties to choose from, you cursed yourself for your laziness, choosing to go with the lace, and giving Dean the order to go take a bath.

Pulling the lacy piece of lingerie out of the drawer, a small object came out with it. As the gentleman he was, Dean picked it up for you, both of your faces turning red as you realized what it was. Your vibrator. Yes, it was small, but it was discreet and powerful, just what every hunter travelling with the Greek god, also known as Dean Winchester, needed. He threw it into your hands, almost like it had burned him, before pulling the panties out of your grasp, nearly running into the bathroom. Awkward.

After laying out some clothes (and a bra) for him on his bed, you informed him of it before retreating to your own room, once again finding the world of music comforting. Sam was searching for a way to reverse the spell, but by dinner time he still hadn’t figured it out yet. It would undoubtedly be an awkward couple of days before he would find anything, before he would be able to finally send your minds into the right bodies.

The morning wood was probably the worst. Sure, you had given a few hand jobs here and there, and obviously knew how to take care of it, but it was weird. You were touching Dean, your long-time crush, in a very intimate place, and, knowing your body, he would have probably had to touch yours as well. Not that you would get blue balls, but being as horny as a bitch in heat wasn’t exactly comfortable. Especially not with a nice and sweaty Dean around.

At bedtime on the day after the fashion catastrophe happened, you noticed something strange as you walked in on your almost naked body, as the (usually) green-eyed hunter struggled to find your PJ. In the beginning it was just a small tingling in your lower body, a feeling that you knew, but for some reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You did soon figure out what it was though, as Dean lifted the black t-shirt over his head, revealing the sexy lace you had chosen for him. The tingling had intensified, sparking a weird feeling between your legs. Your eyes met Dean’s before you let your gaze wander down the body that usually belonged to him, noticing the front of your pants tenting. Your face turned scarlet as you looked back up, seeing his focus landing on the boner you were currently sporting. You saw the aggressive blush that was spreading on his face, right as you realized that this wasn’t on you.

“This makes no sense,” you thought, “why would I be turned on by my own half-naked body? But if it isn’t me, then it has to be… no, that can’t be right. He sees me as a little sister god damnit.” The thoughts were rolling around in your head, making you dizzy as they all tried to surface simultaneously. Breaking up the flushed staring competition, you turned your gaze away and walked out of the room, leaving a dumbfounded and extremely embarrassed Dean to figure out how to handle this. You had to change back ASAP, and you sure as hell weren’t the only one who wanted that.

You see, after breakfast on the first day in your new bodies, Sam had finally told Dean about a small thing that happened as you both blacked out in the Impala. And Dean had been pissed. It was almost scary to see his facial expression change from slightly annoyed over Sam not cutting to the chase to “I-hate-those-fucking-bitches” and “I-want-to-kill-them-right-fucking-now” as Sam explained how he had to grab the wheel when Dean passed out, resulting in Baby crashing into a minor tree, busting one of her headlights and denting her front a bit.

He wanted to go fix it right away of course, but you and Sam agreed that at that point it was more important to figure out how to navigate your new bodies and finding out a way to crack the spell. Dean was not happy, to say the least.

It took three days all in all to figure out how to reverse the spell and actually do it. Three days filled with awkwardness, only broken up by the time spend with your playlist on shuffle. Getting near Dean in those three days was not a possibility, your bodies so violently attracted to each others that Sam would surely notice it if you stood too close. That, and then the awkwardness following the boner incident.

As soon as you were back in your own bodies, the green-eyed hunter practically ran out to Baby. And stayed there. The only time he came inside that day was to get his burger, not even eating it with the two of you, just bringing it with him back to the garage, seemingly trying to avoid you. But you weren’t having any of it.

The following morning, when you knew Dean was out in the garage working on Baby, you had a plan. Dressing in your shortest hot pants and a tank top showing off your assets, you wandered off towards the garage, making sure that you had everything that you would need to carry out that master plan of yours.

As he was standing there, bent over the hood, wearing a pair of jeans seeming to be tight in all the right places, you had to admit that the effort you made not to drool on the floor was much larger than you wanted it to be.

Shaking your head as if to pull yourself out of the trance you were put in by the extremely handsome man in front of you, you initiated your big plan. You walked over to the radio standing on the small tool cart, cranking up the volume as you heard Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me flow from the speakers. Perfect.

Dean turned around, confusion evident in his beautiful features as his gaze landed on you, giving you a quick once over, his mouth hanging open as he seemed to struggle as much with the whole “don’t drool on the floor” -thing as you were. Admittedly, you did look hot. And that was the point of your choice of clothes.

Swaying your hips in time with the tunes, you strode towards him, suddenly standing so very close to his large form, making your body tingle with anticipation. He had that look in his eyes, and you knew, that later, when you walked out of that room, nothing would be as it was before. For better or for worse.

Right as you were about to begin step two of your plan, he finally stopped gawking, a smirk finding its way onto his lips instead. “You know, for a hunter, you have some pretty interesting stuff in your dresser. I guess you’re not so innocent after all,” he said, looking straight into your eyes. “Didn’t know you were a thong girl, but I guess that isn’t exactly something you tell your hunting partner huh?” you felt a blush starting to appear on you face as the words fell from his plush lips, willing it down as best as you could, though unable to stop your panties from growing wetter and wetter for every word. It was an impossible task.

“Thought you wouldn’t be attracted to me, but hey, I guess that’s just because you were too big of a wuss to tell me,” you retorted, a wide smile forming on your lips as he let out a small chuckle. Right as the next song came on the radio, his lips met yours in an innocent kiss, barely touching each other, almost as if asking for permission.

You chased his lips as he pulled away, and that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. The next kiss was deep and sinful, wet tongues dancing around each other, fighting for dominance. And he won.

Grabbing the back of your thighs, he signaled for you to jump, making you wrap your legs around his waist before setting you down on Baby’s hood. The cool metal under you sent a shiver down your spine, but you quickly warmed up, despite the fact that your clothes was rapidly getting pulled off your body, revealing increasing amounts of bare skin.

The green-eyed hunter let out a deep chuckle as you pulled out a condom from the back pocket of your small shorts, right before they were discarded on the floor. “Soooo I take it you knew this was gonna happen?” The smile on his lips sparked your confidence, making you able to shoot him a wink without blushing over his words. Instead, Dean seemed to be the one who’s cheeks were turning pink. After all this time, the tables had finally turned.

The moans that echoed through the garage when he pushed into you were sinful, filled with the longing and desire you had felt for each other for so long, finally letting all the pent up frustrations out.

The drags he made at first were slow and passionate, deep and loving, but as you started to push back against him, he sped up, his thrusts coming hard and fast, nailing your sweet spot over and over again. You wouldn’t last long, and with the pace he was setting, neither would he.

“I’m gonna come Baby, are you with me?”  The words were whispered in your ear, his thrusts becoming more erratic for every second, feeling you clenching down around him. He wasn’t the only one that was close.

The music blaring in the background, and the nearing of your release made it impossible for you to hear the door to the garage opening and closing again, before a very familiar voice resonated through the room, right as you both fell over the edge, plunging into the abyss of orgasmic bliss.

“What the hell guys? Could you just please put a sock on the door or something?!?!?”  

You squealed as you desperately tried to cover yourself up, Dean reacting quicker and yanking you down from Baby’s hood, putting you behind him, effectively shielding you off from Sam’s view, seeming to be indifferent to the fact that he was standing in front of his brother in all his naked glory, with come still dripping from the tip of his cock. It didn’t really matter though, ‘cause Sam was already headed back inside, informing you that he had gotten you some pizza for lunch, and complained about being scarred for life.

As you heard the door close behind the younger brother, Dean turned around, facing you, wearing a big grin on his face. “Soooo you planned all of this?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. You nodded silently, your confidence from before starting to wear off a bit. “Even the music?” Looking him right in the eyes, you let out a quiet confirmation, and he nodded with a small purse of his lips and lifted eyebrows, seemingly impressed by the amount of thought you put into it.

You saw the next question in his face before he let it run over his full lips. “What was up with that anyway? The music, you know.” You thought about it for less than a second before the answer came to you. “I guess I just felt like I would need it?” you replied, the tilt of Dean’s head letting you know that he didn’t understand what you meant. “You know, as Shakespeare wrote: “If music be the food of love, play on.””

And it sure as hell seemed to be.

Tagging @wheresthekillswitch ‘cause she’s a total cutie ❤️

Other awesome people:

@jensen-jarpad

@27bmm

@notnaturalanahi

@deathtonormalcy56

@just-another-busy-fangirl

@mysteriouslyme81

@mousehybrid

@atc74

@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

@supernatural-jackles

@dontcallmebabe-ok

@impala-dreamer

@katymacsupernatural

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 8 – The Hangover: Neil Josten Edition

In which Neil has a hangover that could kill a man, attempts to actually kill a few men (read: the monsters), Wymack is still the best person alive, and Andreil engage in some Totally Straight Bro Time™.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

So, last chapter was a train wreck. I’ve had lots of you coming up to me trying to restore Andrew’s honour and telling me it wasn’t all his fault, but still. The monsters have lost some serious sympathy points in my books.

(I’ve also been told it gets worse, which, might I add, is not reassuring what the hell.)

Let’s get crackin’ and see if our boy Neil is still alive.

           As soon as Neil could breathe again, he twisted and shoved Nicky as hard as he could. He was too sick and weak to push Nicky off the other side of the bed, but the boots he was still wearing would leave bruises on Nicky’s arms and chest.

Alive and kicking, pun absolutely intended.

Also, GOOD. Hit that fucker.

My initial love for Nicky is going through a serious dilemma right now, by the way. On one hand, he’s still the comic relief, which I love, he’s funny and loud and a much-needed ray of sunshine in this otherwise pretty depressing monster squad. On the other hand, he does not seem to understand consent, which goes against every principle I have.

He might have to settle as the Problematic Fave. We’ll see.

           “Hey, hey,” Nicky said, trying to deflect him. “It’s fine. Ouch! Relax, will you?”

           “Don’t you fucking touch me,” Neil said savagely.

I have a strong feeling Neil says everything savagely. That’s like saying Andrew said something murderously, Seth said something angrily, or Renee said something gently and glitter rained down from the sky, the sun bursts through the clouds and angels sang of everything good in this world.

It’s like, duh, that’s how they function.

           “He’s awake?” someone asked from the door.

           Neil snatched the alarm clock up and hurled it at the new arrival, who ducked out of the way just in time.

Attempted Kill Count: II.

Aaron and Nicky try to make him feel better by offering him water and food, and carrying him since he can hardly stand due to his Massive Cracker Dust Hangover, an act of niceness that I am totally not buying.

You drug him and were planning to do God knows what with him if he hadn’t had himself knocked out in time, and now you’re trying to play good Samaritan? Y’all can exit stage left.

           “Drink up,” Nicky said. “You’ll need all the water you can get today. Crackers’ll dehydrate you like nobody’s business.”

           Neil answered by upending his glass on the floor.

           “That’s mature,” Aaron said.

           Neil threw the glass at him.

Attempted Kill Count: III. Neil is on a roll today.

Neil, smart runaway that he is, does not buy the monsters’ Samaritan act either and instead does what I’d advised Nicky and Aaron to do: Exit stage left, that is to say, he gets the fuck out of there.

As soon as he’s in the vicinity of a payphone, he calls Matt and the other not-entirely insane people on this team, which is pretty much the only sensible thing to do in this kind of fuckery.

           “I’m in Columbia with Andrew.“

           “You’re – what?” Matt went from half-asleep to wide awake in a heartbeat. The alarm in his voice only made Neil feel worse. “Jesus, Neil, what the hell did you do that for? Did he–“ Matt aborted that and asked again, “Are you all right?”

           “I’m fine,” Neil lied.

The fact that this is alarming news to Matt and the gang is fucking alarming news to me. Please don’t tell me this is what happened to Matt last year. Please.

Also, Neil “I’m fine” Josten strikes again.

I am instantly proven right as we find out that yes, this is exactly what happened to Matt last year. Poor Billie Joe. You just rose so much in my sympathy ranks. <3

Neil truck-hitchhikes home which we are skipping because it is, frankly, it’s not that interesting. However, as he gets home, it is time for my undisputed fave to appear again:

           Neil wasn’t quite ready to face Andrew yet and he didn’t want to deal with his teammates’ curiosity over his prolonged absence, so he went to Wymack’s apartment instead.

Clearly, Wymack is the solution to everything. Glad my boy Neil and I are on the same page here.

           “You should have called me,” Wymack said. “Me or Abby or any of the upperclassmen. All you had to do was say you didn’t want to stay with Andrew. Any of us would have come and gotten you.”

           Neil stared at him, to startled to respond.

Hello, and welcome to our popular show Neil Doesn’t Realize People Actually Care About Him, episode 1 of a billion.

Wymack apparently has some strong feelings about Andrew and Neil not killing each other entirely, which is why he calls down Andrew for some Quality Bro Time™ with his bf Neil – in typical Wymack-y manner.

           Neil heard [Wymack’s] furious voice loud and clear.

           “You have five seconds to get your retarded psycho ass to my apartment! You even think about telling me no and I swear to god I’ll throw Kevin’s contract down a garbage disposal.”

My dude, maybe think twice about using the R-word. Otherwise, what level of i c o n i c. #dicksoutforwymack

Andrew, miraculously, follows that kind invitation instantly, and this is where stuff gets good.

           “Have a nice stroll?” he asked, interrupting Wymack’s tirade.

           Neil returned his cold stare with a heated “Fuck you.”

           Wymack snapped his fingers in front of Andrew’s face, trying to get Andrew to look at him instead of Neil.

Tough luck, buddy, have fun prying those two apart. The fuckers even switch to goddamned German to have some private one-on-one time, ahem.

Pity Neil has to reveal his secret language superpowers so early in the game, though. I was waiting for the epic moment where Neil chimes into a Kevin/Andrew/Nicky conversation in fluent German just to deliver a savage burn.

           “How about I start with your parents?”

           “Good luck,” Neil said, feeling cold all over. “They’re dead.”

           “Did you kill them?”

           He said it so casually, like he was asking for the time, that Neil could only stare at him for a minute. (…) Then he remembered who he was talking to and asked, “Did you kill yours?”

What the fuck, you guys. How is this even a conversation they’re having. Who on earth just asks stuff like that.

           The twins didn’t know who their father was, and only Aaron grew up with their biological mother. Andrew was surrendered to foster care when he was just a few days old.

Oh. In hindsight, this explains why Andrew referred to their mother as “Aaron’s mother” before, but more importantly: What the fuck, why.

Who does that to a child, heck, who does that to a baby. Surely it’s gotta be healthier for twins to stay with each other? What the hell, Minyards.

Also, how did they pick which twin to keep and which one to give away? Like, “oh, this one looks much nicer, this one looks less like it wants to murder you as soon as you threaten its favourite rattle, better take this one and chuck the other one in the realms of Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind”.

What the actual why.

Did I say this was where stuff got good? We’re not done yet, ho boy. This is where stuff gets really good:

           “I didn’t kill my parents,” Neil said. (…) “Riko’s family did.”

OH SHIT OH SHIT HE’S TELLING HIM STUFF OH SHITTTTTTTTTTTT.

What follows may be the first real, pure, top-of-the-line Andreil scene we get to witness. Granted, Neil only gives Andrew the half-truth, leaving out some key details, but essentially, he pours his heart out in front of him. And I don’t only mean the whole factual side of things, but also stuff like “I’m too jealous of Kevin to stay away from him” and “He’s got you at his back telling him everything’s going to be okay” which I wish I’d made up as examples except those are actual quotes from the book.

And, might I add, not only is he confessing that stuff to one of his mortal enemies right now, he is also confessing that stuff for the first time ever to anyone at all.

I’m dead.

           Andrew reached up and forcibly uncurled Neil’s fingers from his mouth. He pushed Neil’s hand out of the way and stared Neil down with nothing between them. Neil didn’t understand the look on his face. There was no censure over Neil’s crooked parents or pity for their deaths, no triumph over having backed Neil into admitting so much, and no obvious scepticism for such an outlandish story. Whatever this look was, it was dark and intense enough to swallow Neil whole.

           “Let me stay,” Neil said quietly. “I’m not ready to give this up yet.”

Did I say I was dead? I just got fucking reanimated, lived a brief period of happiness, and died again.

WHAT LEVEL OF GAY SHIT. I know it gets even better later, [frieza voice] this isn’t even their final form, but I can’t help but be happy at the first glimpses of canon Andreil.

I am LIVING.

           Maybe Andrew’s night out in Columbia had been awful, and maybe he’d never want to say these things out loud, but having the air cleared between him and Andrew to some degree took an enormous weight of his chest.

Fsshgshsgdsjgjscjjs.

My sad baby boy Neil gets some peace and relief and breathing room I cannot believe.

           Andrew didn’t look at Wymack. “Neil wants to come with me.”

           A day ago, those words might have been an order or a threat, but today Neil heard only truth. He’d chosen the Foxes. He’d chosen to trust Andrew, whatever that meant and whatever consequences it brought down the road. There was no reason or need to hide behind Wymack now.

Are y’all seeing what I’m seeing………… are those…….. first traces of friendship and peace……….. w h a t

As much friendship and peace as you can get with the messed-up murder maniac, at least.

I’m so happy, you guys.

This does not make up for the problems of last chapter (especially my boy Nicky and I still have a bone to pick), but it makes me tentatively look towards an eventually positive future for our angry  babies.

           Hope was a dangerous, disquieting thing, but he thought perhaps he liked it.

Couldn’t have said it better.

[sinrau]

By Michael Scherer and

close Michael Scherer

National political reporter covering campaigns, Congress and the White House

President Trump has launched a slash-and-burn campaign against an exaggerated caricature of his Democratic opponent, casting former vice president Joe Biden as a destroyer of basic freedoms and a threat to voters’ safety who would “let terrorists roam free” and “abolish the American way of life.”

His new dystopian vision, with militant and extreme language not typical in American politics, marks a sharp departure from Trump’s previous effort to cast Biden as “Sleepy Joe,” an establishment politician with deteriorating mental abilities. It marks the latest effort, orchestrated by Trump’s advisers, to shift the conversation from rising coronavirus infections and deteriorating public support for the president’s pandemic response.

In new advertising, tweets and public statements that began to appear earlier this month, Trump has argued that the presumptive Democratic nominee is a harbinger of chaos and destruction, depicting a fantastical scarecrow largely divorced from reality.

“Joe Biden and the Radical Left want to Abolish Police, Abolish ICE, Abolish Bail, Abolish Suburbs, Abolish the 2nd Amendment — and Abolish the American Way of Life. No one will be SAFE in Joe Biden’s America!” Trump tweeted Wednesday. In fact, Biden opposes calls to abolish police or U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, seeks new gun regulations under current judicial interpretations of the Constitution and sees the nation’s suburban voters, especially women, as a core part of his political base.

Trump’s tweeted language, along with similar comments by him Tuesday in the Rose Garden, appear to be lifted directly from an internal White House document officials said was circulated in the building days earlier. In two concise pages, the document sent by White House senior adviser Stephen Miller laid out dozens of bullet-pointed attacks on Biden, along with a brief summary of positive points that describe Trump’s “vision for the future.”

The author of many of Trump’s most pugilistic public statements, Miller has raised concerns to other White House aides that the campaign’s messaging has not been tough enough on Biden, officials said, and a cachet of White House officials have begun working on campaign issues through their private email accounts and text message chains.

In the talking points he distributed, Biden’s elevation to the White House was described as an event that would “surrender America and its citizens to the violent left-wing mob,” “import terrorists,” and “allow left-wing fascists to destroy America.” In an echo of the speech Trump delivered at Mount Rushmore on July 3, the talking points alleged that Biden will empower “the mob to rip down every statue, vilify our heroes, erase our history” and let radicals indoctrinate our children. (Biden launched his campaign with a video quoting the Declaration of Independence and has condemned the removal of statues that do not commemorate the Confederacy.)

The document also includes false, and even contradictory, policy attacks that have long been a staple of the Trump campaign’s digital advertising.

“Biden will impose a socialist takeover of health care,” the talking points document reads. “He will massively cut Medicare and Social Security.” (Biden, who has fought against Medicare-for-all, supports adding a public Medicare option for those without private health insurance and increasing funding for Social Security.)

Miller himself pushed the harsher line in an appearance Wednesday on Lou Dobbs’s Fox Business show, where he spoke about the Central American gang MS-13 and charged that Biden and former president Barack Obama “unleashed these killers into our communities” and “never apologized.” The Obama administration prioritized deportation of undocumented criminals and gang members.

Miller framed the election in nearly apocalyptic terms. “That’s the choice everyone faces: Public safety under this president or lawless mayhem under the radical left,” he said.

The White House declined to comment on the document and the president’s rhetorical shift.

Similar talking points have since been broadly embraced by federal officials and Republican operatives in their public comments, bringing a broader audience to an argument that was previously confined to conservative media, like Tucker Carlson’s prime-time Fox News program, where Democrats are regularly described as people who “hate” and “despise” their own country.

House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) has begun arguing that Democrats want to “deface, destroy and dismantle our country,” in a clear signal to House campaigns. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo said Thursday in a speech that “the very core of what it means to be an American, indeed the American way of life itself, is under attack” from within the country.

The effort recalls some of the controversial rhetoric that Trump embraced in his 2016 campaign, when he made calls for imprisoning his opponent, Hillary Clinton. But advisers to Biden don’t believe such a strategy can work again in a time of such acute national crises. They said the claims are so obviously false and outlandish as to not be credible, and they point to the fact that Biden begins the general election with higher approval ratings than Clinton.

“Predicating this ‘new,’ incoherent nonmessage on ‘safety’ or ‘radicalism’ isn’t strategic — it’s unstable projection and desperation incarnate,” Biden campaign spokesman Andrew Bates said. “This is another tragic reminder that in a moment of unprecedented crisis, when we need real leadership more than ever, we are saddled with an unhinged commander in chief.”

Trump campaign advisers maintain that the president’s recent statements are accurate depictions of Biden, because they point out parts of his past record or the effective results of Biden’s policy push. Biden has supported cuts to Social Security and Medicare in the past. He supports less aggressive immigration enforcement policies, and he would change qualified immunity for police officers, which they argue would bankrupt law enforcement.

“I hate to break it to Joe Biden, but he has a 47-year record and I am afraid he is stuck with it,” said Tim Murtaugh, the Trump campaign’s communications director, who also argued that Biden would be further manipulated in office. “Biden is an empty vessel here. He is a Trojan horse for Bernie Sanders and the radical left agenda because he cannot stand up to them.”

Bill Stepien, Trump’s newly appointed campaign manager, views a ramped up focus on attacking Biden as a primary goal, according to people familiar with his thinking who like others spoke on the condition of anonymity to describe private strategy discussions.

“There are two reasons an incumbent wins. One, you’re doing a good job. Two, the opponent has been discredited as a better alternative,” said Mike DuHaime, a GOP strategist and close friend of Stepien. “The first one is not really up to the campaign. It’s up to the president and the White House. Second, the campaign has some level of control over and needs to do a better job.”

Trump campaign adviser Jason Miller, no relation to Stephen, has also been pushing the messaging internally, sending out morning memos to Trump campaign advisers, supporters and surrogates to drive the message. A campaign official familiar with the effort said that both Millers participated in an effort in late June and early July to improve the campaign messaging.

The advisers seized on a July 8 joint policy statement by the Biden campaign and senior advisers to Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) to claim that Biden is abandoning his moderate record to become a tool for the left. They have also focused on a July 8 interview by Biden, where he said that surplus military supplies going to local police departments had the ill effect of making them “become the enemy” for communities they protect and said he supported redirecting some police funding.

Since then, the Trump campaign has earned the ire of fact-checkers by claiming that Biden wants to defund the police or that he considers police “the enemy,” neither of which is true. The Trump campaign has nonetheless spent nearly $14 million since July 2, according to a Democratic ad tracker, to air a television spot that suggests police departments won’t respond to 911 calls if Biden is elected.

Trump has occasionally struggled to deliver the new message. In an interview set to air on Fox News Sunday, the president claims that the Biden and Sanders statement included plans to “defund the police.” It does not, but Trump nonetheless called for a temporary stop to the interview to check the document.

“You won’t be safe in Joe Biden’s America. Your family won’t be safe, your job won’t be safe and even your words and ideas won’t be safe,” one recent Jason Miller internal email read.

The sharpened talking points have given the Trump campaign a more unified argument, after months of struggling with how to respond to the viral pandemic, the economic crisis and the nationwide protests against police brutality.

For much of June, Trump moved, often confusingly, between praising and condemning protests over racial injustice. His campaign’s television advertising praised his response to the viral pandemic, even as he prevaricated on wearing masks to prevent transmission and urged the country to reopen among rising infection rates in many states.

The talking points document distributed by Stephen Miller lays out a direct message on the coronavirus: “Our strategy is to shelter the vulnerable while allowing the young and healthy to return to work.”

In recent weeks, federal health officials have stepped up their warnings about infections among young and healthy people that has spread to more vulnerable populations.

“None of us really anticipated the amount of community spread that began in really our 18 to 35-year-old age group,” Deborah Birx, the White House coronavirus response coordinator, said on Tuesday. “We right now have really significant cases in people under 45.”

The document also claims the United States has a lower fatality rate from covid-19 than France, Italy, the United Kingdom, Spain, the Netherlands, Japan, Denmark, Germany and Finland.

According to Johns Hopkins University Coronovirus Resource Center, the United States has the second highest number of deaths as a share of population among the 20 countries most affected by the coronavirus, behind only the United Kingdom. When measured by the number of deaths per confirmed cases, the U.S. has the ninth highest rate in the world.

Recent polling has shown a sharp deterioration in public approval for Trump’s handling of the pandemic, as the number of infections and deaths have begun to rise again nationwide. A July Washington Post-ABC News poll found that 38 percent of Americans approve of his handling of the outbreak, down from 46 percent in May and 51 percent in March.

Trump advisers have urged him to address the recent spike in cases more directly, and he recently pivoted on the question of wearing a mask, by wearing one in public and saying he did not mind the way he looked. White House counselor Kellyanne Conway said Friday on “Fox and Friends” that Trump should start appearing again at daily coronavirus briefings from the White House.

Those briefings stopped after advisers told the president that some of his comments, including his suggestion that doctors find a way to inject disinfectant into people to kill the virus, were hurting his public image.

Campaign advisers say the operation is still refining a positive case for Trump’s reelection. At recent events, the president has listed off a push for school choice, improved health care, a tougher stand against China, more conservative judges and continued focus on building the economy. The Stephen Miller document adds to several platforms that echo the negative case Trump is trying to make against Biden, including defense of police and keeping borders secure.

Among the Trump visions for the future, the document lists this one: “Defend our noble history and the American way of life.”

[wendyimmiller]

Shaking Up the Center of Classic Charleston with a Wild Heart

  Colonial Lake Just Before Dawn on a Summer Day. Kellen Goodell photo.

Plantsman and author, Jenks Farmer, in his first Guest Rant, tells a story of a dream come true.

How do I describe that sensation of not feeling the effects of the atmosphere? When for a moment, there’s skin and air and self and the world seem as one? When I’m in it, that equilibrium, there’s a moment before awareness; that’s the best. Those moments come on Maine mornings, Seattle summer afternoons and twilight in the fall, anywhere. Down in low lying, normally humid Charleston I feel one dawn in May. Walking through this park I’m in it for a few seconds. Then the thought registers, and way up overhead, a scratchy, rustling noise of palmettos leaves reminds me. I feel it move a curl of hair against my ear. I smell it, that breeze brings down a rosy fragrance mixed with a brown smell of funky marsh mud and sea grass.

  Charleston Parks Conservancy photo.

This downtown park couldn’t be anywhere else. It’s always been a singular, odd thing. Even South Carolina’s famed novelist, Pat Conroy wrote, “I grow calm when I see the ranks of palmetto trees pulling guard duty on the banks of Colonial Lake.”

If you read what he didn’t say, or if you ever passed here anytime from 1900 to 2016, you know the palmettos because there really wasn’t much else to see. That quote is a romantic description of a place that was sparse grass, sidewalks, a murky, saltwater lake, and rows of naked palmettos. In my lifetime anyway, that was it. Oh, wait, there was an ancient lobbed off chaste tree and some weirdly pruned balls of pink oleander. To be fair, the people who walked their dogs probably liked it. Fishermen who don’t have boats love saltwater fishing right downtown. And, each Thanksgiving, local firemen floated a lighted Christmas tree onto the lake and then on New Year’s Eve, someone would drive their car right into the muck.

Library of Congress photo.

Since the 70’s, I’ve spent a good bit of time in Charleston visiting family and then later working as a horticulturist. I’ve sought rare lilies in cemeteries, visited great gardens and even collected plants on condemned housing projects. I’ve known more than a few adventurous plant people. Since the 70’s no one ever said, “

Let’s check out Colonial Lake.”  Not once. Ever.

Until now. Every single trip, in any season, no matter how many other things are on my agenda, I plan time to walk the park around Colonial Lake. This naturalistic style, ever changing garden, full of people and plant friends, is now the horticultural highlight of Charleston, SC.

Kellen Goodell photo.

Jim Martin, a friend and mentor, brought on this change. That’s just Jim’s way. He has done the same in three South Carolina cities: Columbia, Georgetown and Charleston. Jim turned this place of compacted soils and suffering palmetto trees from byway into an iconic planting that tells a story of the deep South’s coastal plains plants, our horticultural history and makes a statement of the state of our native plant movement.

For planting design, Jim took a cue, a small cue from New York’s Highline, Chicago’s Millennium Park and similar public plantings. There was no duplication of those gardens. Those famed naturalistic plantings draw on meadows which makes sense for where they are. The cue he took was to tell a story of natural habitats to people who rarely see them, right in the middle when they walk, bike, stroll and walk their pets.

Kellen Goodell photo.

We don’t really have meadows in the deep south. The equivalent here is pine savannah or a marsh. Look across a pine savannah, under a soaring canopy of long needled pines there a sea of chest high grasses and thick leaved perennials. It looks like sweeping monotony. But smaller grasses and sedges grow underneath. And an incredibly diverse herbaceous and annual layer intermixes too. There are few woody plants as lightning induced fire suppresses them; woodies being more prone to fire damage. But occasional low spots are too wet to burn, which protects a few shrubs. These spots, called pocosins, protect emerald green wax myrtle, inkberry holly and thorny swamp rose. Thin Carolina jessamine vines climb the shrubs and Tarzan-thick supple jack lianas hang from trees.

Endless summer heat, soils enriched from burns and decay and sun make this a productive habitat.

Today around Colonial Lake broomstraw and panic grass, bull rush, white top sedge and even some European sedges mimic that unifying layer of blades. Perennials jump, lean, overflow and remind that climate produces massive growth rates. It’s a climate of maximum growth where plants are really wild and messy in ways that scare some people.

Kevin Goodell photo.

Jim knows how to grab attention with just the right mix of the beauty he sees in the wild and the kind of beauty most people expect. His spectacular pairing of plants from similar climates and similar ecosystems from all over the world lets plants do what they do in our climate and also lets most visitors fall in love with the verdant style.

When Monty Don, England’s premier horticulturist, ecologist and TV-gardener did shows, a PBS series, on American gardens, he walked through the park, during the opening scene under those old once naked palmettos. At his head level, as they would be in the wild, the shredded-wheat textured skin of the palmettos looked bare. Today this is one of Charleston garden moments — the place to pose for prom pictures, to propose to someone or if you’re a famous TV garden show host, to open your show. Today climbing up, cascading down and spritzing the whole park with that rose-milk fragrance — the one that reminded me at dawn that I’m part of this place.

Of the new planting style Jim says,

“The inspiration was the marsh and the savannah. We wanted to push the envelope. To tell an ecological story. So many visitors come to Charleston but they can’t get out into the swamp or marsh to see the native crinum, hibiscus or coral bean flowering. We want to connect to that for them.  We want to challenge them too. But this IS a city park. We have a gardening level to meet. There was a history here to be acknowledged too. We included some elements of what’s referred to here as ‘traditional Charleston’ gardens. And we found plants from similar habitats that spiced it all up a bit.”

Kellen Goodell photo

It’s a bland name but Broad Street is a landmark here. It’s a tight two lanes downtown that quickly turns residential and today it’s lined with multi-million-dollar collector homes. Then trees reach over it when you get to the park. It’s a street paved in overly romantic novels with layers of allure. Pat Conroy made the street name part of one of his novels. To keep in sync with the homes and allure, along Broad, Jim included azaleas and camellias and even a serpentine podocarpus hedge. Structural perennials like Asiatic crinum mix with plumbago and a few natives.  “We tried, we really did. It was more than a nod to the area” says Jim.

The first fall after planting, Hurricane Mathew flooded the entire park. New plants, beds, sidewalks, benches, even the lake itself sat three feet under saltwater. You see, for all the allure of Charleston’s Broad Street, it was once simply marsh with brown creeks running through. Today it’s barely above sea level and if anywhere in town is going to flood, it’s going to be the Broad Street at the corner of Colonial Lake Park.

“A sign for Charleston’s Colonial Lake is submerged after it burst it’s banks when Hurricane Matthew hit Charleston, South Carolina, October 8, 2016.” REUTERS/Jonathan Drake.

After that first flood, as soon as the water receded, Jim and his crew ran irrigation constantly, trying to flush out the salt. But all that newly planted Asian stuff, all those nods to traditional gardening shriveled up and died. That caused more than a bit of disappointment in the new park renovation. TV news made it a sensational story. People wrote letters to the editor.  As for the naturalistic planting style, there’s a crowd of traditionalists who long for the clipped and tidy “Charleston style” (ironically, that was defined by a New York garden designer using mostly Asian plants back in the 1940’s and 50s).

That caused more than a bit of disappointment in the new park renovation. As has the naturalistic planting style. There’s a crowd of traditionalists who long for the clipped and tidy ‘Charleston style’ (ironically, that was defined by a New York garden designer using mostly Asian plants back in the 1940’s and 50s).

But most park visitors and neighbors love the new style, so says Charlestonian, John Darby,

“My son lives on the park and we’ve watched it become the place to be. Especially during Covid, it’s a place to get outside safely. Ten years ago, someone going out to walk a dog in the surrounding neighborhoods just walked the dog. Today, they go out of their way to see what’s going on in the park.” Darby has another significant interest in watching the park.  As President of The Beach Company, he’s put millions of dollars and hopes into a mixed-use retail, rental and owners complex almost adjacent to the park, “that pristine park is definitely a selling point.”

Colonial Lake and other Charleston parks are the latest of Jim’s overhauling of the city’s look and horticultural vision. By his own accord, Jim will credit every success with a team. Jim assembles, motivates and like nobody’s business. I’ve spent many years on various teams he put together. To give you one solid example of Jim’s ability to motivate, to release people to be more than they know they can be, consider that I am a relatively quiet guy. Once, Jim convinced me to wear a Kermit the Frog suit to an American Society for Horticultural Science convention, to walk through trade show, lectures and coffee breaks as if nothing were odd about it. Back in college, I nicknamed him “Juggernaut Jim.”

On the Colonial Lake project, Jim worked with a team that included engineers, landscape architects and fundraisers. This team and project were assembled by the non-profit Charleston Parks Conservancy, a support group for City of Charleston Parks Department. But, Jim did more than plan and spec mulch. He did what talented garden designers do.  Jim visualized the visitor’s journey. He imagined my morning walk in May, a sultry August night, a frigid winter day. And he wrote the story to be told via plants.  Some visitors may notice stone choices, concrete color or bench styles, but every single one notices the plants. From the start, Jim also understood that neither landscape company nor park crew could provide the knowledge to care for this planting.  He planned to hire a full-time professional horticulturist who could manage a team of volunteers.

“Those Asian plants that died in the first flood might have been ok with another year’s root growth. But I wasn’t going to take the chance of replanting. Today, Kellen Goodell and I look to Florida ecology for inspiration.

Remember? It’s what you and I discussed at the start of this project, ecologically, the coastal plain is one thing, regardless of state lines. We have a few great native nurseries but North Florida has a real movement so we look there for inspiration and new plants. “

Forget designers, consultants and landscape architects and even Juggernaut Jim. If a garden thrives over time, it’s because of one specific professional gardener, the dirty knees and nails person who brings success. Colonial Lake looks like it does because of Kellen Goodell, the young horticulturalist Jim brought on early in the project. Kellen knows where there’s a patch of soil that’s hydrophobic. He knows where the bothersome snail vine lays feet deep in the soil and comes back each spring.

About ten years ago, a young University of Florida student that came to work with me (in a botanical garden) as an intern. Committed to organic food production, Kellen was quiet, unassuming and seemingly unaware that his commitment, earnestness and easy smile inspired people. Kellen didn’t completely give up on vegetables or Florida, but he fell in love with Charleston gardening. He’s been lead horticulturist of Colonial Lake’s gardens since the renovation started back in 2016.

Kellen Goodell. Melissa Toms photo.

Kellen knows the swooning heat, the humidity that makes mulch stick to your forearms and the mysterious spread of poison ivy bumps. He knows what it is to be immersed in a passion. And Kellen knows heartbreak. He recalls:

“I’m not often despondent, but this was my first huge job, my first commitment to a place.  I started in summer 2016.  In fall, the city flooded. I saw it all underwater on TV, I just wanted to cry.  When I could go down, there was Jim, with a pep in his step as he strolled through all my great compost and mulch, which was running down the street for blocks. He told me you can’t control it. A garden is a living thing. We’ll make it better. Jim teaches when he doesn’t realize it.  We replanted.  And we thought that sort of hurricane flood was a one-and-done. It wasn’t typical over the past 30 years.  Then it happened again the next fall. And that was our turning point.”

That’s when Kellen really started seeking under used, salt tolerant plants both native and from similar ecosystems. He says:

“Now, the Broad street side, which not only floods but gets car exhaust and walk through and so much abuse, has gone from critical to spectacular. He describes it today,

“The elderberry is almost too happy. But under the shade of massive trees, mixed in with banana shrubs and windmill palms, with native red erythrina, it’s magical. And down at the corner sunny spot, panicum, catmint, crinum and later the super tall, super purple giant ironweed colors up in fall and keeps structure through winter.

“On that whirlwind trip you and I did of native nurseries of central Florida, you turned me on to fast growing frog fruit and sensitive vine but I think the biggest impact from that trip took a while to show — Simpson’s stopper. That shrub gives something every season, flowers in spring, fragrance, fall fruit. And it’s a pollinator plant, salt tolerant, urban tolerant.  And it recovers like crazy – if a biker falls into it and crushes, it, it sprouts right back.  Its native range extends up the coast to about a hundred miles south of us. But we’re not trying to be a natives-only garden.”

Kellen tells me about other professional horticulturists who utilize the park as a botanical garden. “They walk it, look, text me, learn new plants and get inspiration from the place — with no ticket fee, no closing time and no pressure.”

It’s a half mile around the lake. It’s a ton of work. But it was never intended for one person.  One humid summer morning, the kind of day when your glasses fog up when you get out the truck, I saw tall, lank, smiling Kellen sitting in the shade surrounded by a crew of dirty, dedicated volunteers. They’ve been gardening all morning with him, now they’re having a little break to celebrate his birthday. Even my Momma sent a pound cake — Kellen is easy to like.  He couldn’t keep this garden, this park without these dedicated neighbors.  One woman has in her lap, very expensive kid skin gloves. Not only do they do the work here, but they advocate for the park and the sometimes-controversial planting style when they socialize.

Kellen Goodell and the Park Angels.

Kellen doesn’t think about their power and pull in that way. He’s telling them about obligate moth pollination on yuccas. He’s nerdy. But sophisticated. He draws you in. And he doesn’t often realize when he’s teaching.

Right now, at this time of Covid, the volunteers cannot connect physically. Kellen tells me:

“This garden is making it now, with just me taking care of it because it has been properly pruned, mulched and weeded. Jim talks about gardens as places of teaching. And we’re adding more labels and interpretation all the time. But here’s part of the learning too: it’s not just tough, adapted plants but its proper care that pays off. All those volunteers working all those hours over the years set this garden up to make it through a crisis. It’s magical right now and it will be when it gets hot too.”

As I finished this writing, Kellen texted to tell me there was a peaceful gathering in Colonial Lake Park to honor George Floyd and to call for changes to police policy. We have a long way to go to see that kind of transformation. At least in one park, one landscape, one planting, we’ve been able to see that something that seems engrained, unchangeable can become something totally new. And that text made me so happy to know that Kellen and his easy smiles, his love of plants and people, got to be part of a creation of a place that all sorts of people now treasure and trust.

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

    The saltwater still moves with the tide, twice daily, but new flood gate systems keep the water level up. To see a jelly fish in Colonial Lake

To see a few of the plants of the park.

https://www.charlestonparksconservancy.org/park/colonial-lake

Or Jim Martin and Kellen Goodell on Instagram

  Jenks Farmer helped set the vision for South Carolina’s three newest botanical gardens created over the past 25 years. He runs a specialty bulb nursery and has written two books, Deep Rooted Wisdom from Timber Press and Funky Little Flower Farm from his own Plantsman Publications. Jenks was a founding member of the Charleston Parks Conservancy which funds and manages projects like the Colonial Lake renovation.

Shaking Up the Center of Classic Charleston with a Wild Heart originally appeared on GardenRant on June 24, 2020.

The post Shaking Up the Center of Classic Charleston with a Wild Heart appeared first on GardenRant.

from Gardening https://www.gardenrant.com/2020/06/shaking-up-the-center-of-classic-charleston-with-a-wild-heart.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[turfandlawncare]

Shaking Up the Center of Classic Charleston with a Wild Heart

  Colonial Lake Just Before Dawn on a Summer Day. Kellen Goodell photo.

Plantsman and author, Jenks Farmer, in his first Guest Rant, tells a story of a dream come true.

How do I describe that sensation of not feeling the effects of the atmosphere? When for a moment, there’s skin and air and self and the world seem as one? When I’m in it, that equilibrium, there’s a moment before awareness; that’s the best. Those moments come on Maine mornings, Seattle summer afternoons and twilight in the fall, anywhere. Down in low lying, normally humid Charleston I feel one dawn in May. Walking through this park I’m in it for a few seconds. Then the thought registers, and way up overhead, a scratchy, rustling noise of palmettos leaves reminds me. I feel it move a curl of hair against my ear. I smell it, that breeze brings down a rosy fragrance mixed with a brown smell of funky marsh mud and sea grass.

  Charleston Parks Conservancy photo.

This downtown park couldn’t be anywhere else. It’s always been a singular, odd thing. Even South Carolina’s famed novelist, Pat Conroy wrote, “I grow calm when I see the ranks of palmetto trees pulling guard duty on the banks of Colonial Lake.”

If you read what he didn’t say, or if you ever passed here anytime from 1900 to 2016, you know the palmettos because there really wasn’t much else to see. That quote is a romantic description of a place that was sparse grass, sidewalks, a murky, saltwater lake, and rows of naked palmettos. In my lifetime anyway, that was it. Oh, wait, there was an ancient lobbed off chaste tree and some weirdly pruned balls of pink oleander. To be fair, the people who walked their dogs probably liked it. Fishermen who don’t have boats love saltwater fishing right downtown. And, each Thanksgiving, local firemen floated a lighted Christmas tree onto the lake and then on New Year’s Eve, someone would drive their car right into the muck.

Library of Congress photo.

Since the 70’s, I’ve spent a good bit of time in Charleston visiting family and then later working as a horticulturist. I’ve sought rare lilies in cemeteries, visited great gardens and even collected plants on condemned housing projects. I’ve known more than a few adventurous plant people. Since the 70’s no one ever said, “

Let’s check out Colonial Lake.”  Not once. Ever.

Until now. Every single trip, in any season, no matter how many other things are on my agenda, I plan time to walk the park around Colonial Lake. This naturalistic style, ever changing garden, full of people and plant friends, is now the horticultural highlight of Charleston, SC.

Kellen Goodell photo.

Jim Martin, a friend and mentor, brought on this change. That’s just Jim’s way. He has done the same in three South Carolina cities: Columbia, Georgetown and Charleston. Jim turned this place of compacted soils and suffering palmetto trees from byway into an iconic planting that tells a story of the deep South’s coastal plains plants, our horticultural history and makes a statement of the state of our native plant movement.

For planting design, Jim took a cue, a small cue from New York’s Highline, Chicago’s Millennium Park and similar public plantings. There was no duplication of those gardens. Those famed naturalistic plantings draw on meadows which makes sense for where they are. The cue he took was to tell a story of natural habitats to people who rarely see them, right in the middle when they walk, bike, stroll and walk their pets.

Kellen Goodell photo.

We don’t really have meadows in the deep south. The equivalent here is pine savannah or a marsh. Look across a pine savannah, under a soaring canopy of long needled pines there a sea of chest high grasses and thick leaved perennials. It looks like sweeping monotony. But smaller grasses and sedges grow underneath. And an incredibly diverse herbaceous and annual layer intermixes too. There are few woody plants as lightning induced fire suppresses them; woodies being more prone to fire damage. But occasional low spots are too wet to burn, which protects a few shrubs. These spots, called pocosins, protect emerald green wax myrtle, inkberry holly and thorny swamp rose. Thin Carolina jessamine vines climb the shrubs and Tarzan-thick supple jack lianas hang from trees.

Endless summer heat, soils enriched from burns and decay and sun make this a productive habitat.

Today around Colonial Lake broomstraw and panic grass, bull rush, white top sedge and even some European sedges mimic that unifying layer of blades. Perennials jump, lean, overflow and remind that climate produces massive growth rates. It’s a climate of maximum growth where plants are really wild and messy in ways that scare some people.

Kevin Goodell photo.

Jim knows how to grab attention with just the right mix of the beauty he sees in the wild and the kind of beauty most people expect. His spectacular pairing of plants from similar climates and similar ecosystems from all over the world lets plants do what they do in our climate and also lets most visitors fall in love with the verdant style.

When Monty Don, England’s premier horticulturist, ecologist and TV-gardener did shows, a PBS series, on American gardens, he walked through the park, during the opening scene under those old once naked palmettos. At his head level, as they would be in the wild, the shredded-wheat textured skin of the palmettos looked bare. Today this is one of Charleston garden moments — the place to pose for prom pictures, to propose to someone or if you’re a famous TV garden show host, to open your show. Today climbing up, cascading down and spritzing the whole park with that rose-milk fragrance — the one that reminded me at dawn that I’m part of this place.

Of the new planting style Jim says,

“The inspiration was the marsh and the savannah. We wanted to push the envelope. To tell an ecological story. So many visitors come to Charleston but they can’t get out into the swamp or marsh to see the native crinum, hibiscus or coral bean flowering. We want to connect to that for them.  We want to challenge them too. But this IS a city park. We have a gardening level to meet. There was a history here to be acknowledged too. We included some elements of what’s referred to here as ‘traditional Charleston’ gardens. And we found plants from similar habitats that spiced it all up a bit.”

Kellen Goodell photo

It’s a bland name but Broad Street is a landmark here. It’s a tight two lanes downtown that quickly turns residential and today it’s lined with multi-million-dollar collector homes. Then trees reach over it when you get to the park. It’s a street paved in overly romantic novels with layers of allure. Pat Conroy made the street name part of one of his novels. To keep in sync with the homes and allure, along Broad, Jim included azaleas and camellias and even a serpentine podocarpus hedge. Structural perennials like Asiatic crinum mix with plumbago and a few natives.  “We tried, we really did. It was more than a nod to the area” says Jim.

The first fall after planting, Hurricane Mathew flooded the entire park. New plants, beds, sidewalks, benches, even the lake itself sat three feet under saltwater. You see, for all the allure of Charleston’s Broad Street, it was once simply marsh with brown creeks running through. Today it’s barely above sea level and if anywhere in town is going to flood, it’s going to be the Broad Street at the corner of Colonial Lake Park.

“A sign for Charleston’s Colonial Lake is submerged after it burst it’s banks when Hurricane Matthew hit Charleston, South Carolina, October 8, 2016.” REUTERS/Jonathan Drake.

After that first flood, as soon as the water receded, Jim and his crew ran irrigation constantly, trying to flush out the salt. But all that newly planted Asian stuff, all those nods to traditional gardening shriveled up and died. That caused more than a bit of disappointment in the new park renovation. TV news made it a sensational story. People wrote letters to the editor.  As for the naturalistic planting style, there’s a crowd of traditionalists who long for the clipped and tidy “Charleston style” (ironically, that was defined by a New York garden designer using mostly Asian plants back in the 1940’s and 50s).

That caused more than a bit of disappointment in the new park renovation. As has the naturalistic planting style. There’s a crowd of traditionalists who long for the clipped and tidy ‘Charleston style’ (ironically, that was defined by a New York garden designer using mostly Asian plants back in the 1940’s and 50s).

But most park visitors and neighbors love the new style, so says Charlestonian, John Darby,

“My son lives on the park and we’ve watched it become the place to be. Especially during Covid, it’s a place to get outside safely. Ten years ago, someone going out to walk a dog in the surrounding neighborhoods just walked the dog. Today, they go out of their way to see what’s going on in the park.” Darby has another significant interest in watching the park.  As President of The Beach Company, he’s put millions of dollars and hopes into a mixed-use retail, rental and owners complex almost adjacent to the park, “that pristine park is definitely a selling point.”

Colonial Lake and other Charleston parks are the latest of Jim’s overhauling of the city’s look and horticultural vision. By his own accord, Jim will credit every success with a team. Jim assembles, motivates and like nobody’s business. I’ve spent many years on various teams he put together. To give you one solid example of Jim’s ability to motivate, to release people to be more than they know they can be, consider that I am a relatively quiet guy. Once, Jim convinced me to wear a Kermit the Frog suit to an American Society for Horticultural Science convention, to walk through trade show, lectures and coffee breaks as if nothing were odd about it. Back in college, I nicknamed him “Juggernaut Jim.”

On the Colonial Lake project, Jim worked with a team that included engineers, landscape architects and fundraisers. This team and project were assembled by the non-profit Charleston Parks Conservancy, a support group for City of Charleston Parks Department. But, Jim did more than plan and spec mulch. He did what talented garden designers do.  Jim visualized the visitor’s journey. He imagined my morning walk in May, a sultry August night, a frigid winter day. And he wrote the story to be told via plants.  Some visitors may notice stone choices, concrete color or bench styles, but every single one notices the plants. From the start, Jim also understood that neither landscape company nor park crew could provide the knowledge to care for this planting.  He planned to hire a full-time professional horticulturist who could manage a team of volunteers.

“Those Asian plants that died in the first flood might have been ok with another year’s root growth. But I wasn’t going to take the chance of replanting. Today, Kellen Goodell and I look to Florida ecology for inspiration.

Remember? It’s what you and I discussed at the start of this project, ecologically, the coastal plain is one thing, regardless of state lines. We have a few great native nurseries but North Florida has a real movement so we look there for inspiration and new plants. “

Forget designers, consultants and landscape architects and even Juggernaut Jim. If a garden thrives over time, it’s because of one specific professional gardener, the dirty knees and nails person who brings success. Colonial Lake looks like it does because of Kellen Goodell, the young horticulturalist Jim brought on early in the project. Kellen knows where there’s a patch of soil that’s hydrophobic. He knows where the bothersome snail vine lays feet deep in the soil and comes back each spring.

About ten years ago, a young University of Florida student that came to work with me (in a botanical garden) as an intern. Committed to organic food production, Kellen was quiet, unassuming and seemingly unaware that his commitment, earnestness and easy smile inspired people. Kellen didn’t completely give up on vegetables or Florida, but he fell in love with Charleston gardening. He’s been lead horticulturist of Colonial Lake’s gardens since the renovation started back in 2016.

Kellen Goodell. Melissa Toms photo.

Kellen knows the swooning heat, the humidity that makes mulch stick to your forearms and the mysterious spread of poison ivy bumps. He knows what it is to be immersed in a passion. And Kellen knows heartbreak. He recalls:

“I’m not often despondent, but this was my first huge job, my first commitment to a place.  I started in summer 2016.  In fall, the city flooded. I saw it all underwater on TV, I just wanted to cry.  When I could go down, there was Jim, with a pep in his step as he strolled through all my great compost and mulch, which was running down the street for blocks. He told me you can’t control it. A garden is a living thing. We’ll make it better. Jim teaches when he doesn’t realize it.  We replanted.  And we thought that sort of hurricane flood was a one-and-done. It wasn’t typical over the past 30 years.  Then it happened again the next fall. And that was our turning point.”

That’s when Kellen really started seeking under used, salt tolerant plants both native and from similar ecosystems. He says:

“Now, the Broad street side, which not only floods but gets car exhaust and walk through and so much abuse, has gone from critical to spectacular. He describes it today,

“The elderberry is almost too happy. But under the shade of massive trees, mixed in with banana shrubs and windmill palms, with native red erythrina, it’s magical. And down at the corner sunny spot, panicum, catmint, crinum and later the super tall, super purple giant ironweed colors up in fall and keeps structure through winter.

“On that whirlwind trip you and I did of native nurseries of central Florida, you turned me on to fast growing frog fruit and sensitive vine but I think the biggest impact from that trip took a while to show — Simpson’s stopper. That shrub gives something every season, flowers in spring, fragrance, fall fruit. And it’s a pollinator plant, salt tolerant, urban tolerant.  And it recovers like crazy – if a biker falls into it and crushes, it, it sprouts right back.  Its native range extends up the coast to about a hundred miles south of us. But we’re not trying to be a natives-only garden.”

Kellen tells me about other professional horticulturists who utilize the park as a botanical garden. “They walk it, look, text me, learn new plants and get inspiration from the place — with no ticket fee, no closing time and no pressure.”

It’s a half mile around the lake. It’s a ton of work. But it was never intended for one person.  One humid summer morning, the kind of day when your glasses fog up when you get out the truck, I saw tall, lank, smiling Kellen sitting in the shade surrounded by a crew of dirty, dedicated volunteers. They’ve been gardening all morning with him, now they’re having a little break to celebrate his birthday. Even my Momma sent a pound cake — Kellen is easy to like.  He couldn’t keep this garden, this park without these dedicated neighbors.  One woman has in her lap, very expensive kid skin gloves. Not only do they do the work here, but they advocate for the park and the sometimes-controversial planting style when they socialize.

Kellen Goodell and the Park Angels.

Kellen doesn’t think about their power and pull in that way. He’s telling them about obligate moth pollination on yuccas. He’s nerdy. But sophisticated. He draws you in. And he doesn’t often realize when he’s teaching.

Right now, at this time of Covid, the volunteers cannot connect physically. Kellen tells me:

“This garden is making it now, with just me taking care of it because it has been properly pruned, mulched and weeded. Jim talks about gardens as places of teaching. And we’re adding more labels and interpretation all the time. But here’s part of the learning too: it’s not just tough, adapted plants but its proper care that pays off. All those volunteers working all those hours over the years set this garden up to make it through a crisis. It’s magical right now and it will be when it gets hot too.”

As I finished this writing, Kellen texted to tell me there was a peaceful gathering in Colonial Lake Park to honor George Floyd and to call for changes to police policy. We have a long way to go to see that kind of transformation. At least in one park, one landscape, one planting, we’ve been able to see that something that seems engrained, unchangeable can become something totally new. And that text made me so happy to know that Kellen and his easy smiles, his love of plants and people, got to be part of a creation of a place that all sorts of people now treasure and trust.

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

    The saltwater still moves with the tide, twice daily, but new flood gate systems keep the water level up. To see a jelly fish in Colonial Lake

To see a few of the plants of the park.

https://www.charlestonparksconservancy.org/park/colonial-lake

Or Jim Martin and Kellen Goodell on Instagram

  Jenks Farmer helped set the vision for South Carolina’s three newest botanical gardens created over the past 25 years. He runs a specialty bulb nursery and has written two books, Deep Rooted Wisdom from Timber Press and Funky Little Flower Farm from his own Plantsman Publications. Jenks was a founding member of the Charleston Parks Conservancy which funds and manages projects like the Colonial Lake renovation.

Shaking Up the Center of Classic Charleston with a Wild Heart originally appeared on GardenRant on June 24, 2020.

The post Shaking Up the Center of Classic Charleston with a Wild Heart appeared first on GardenRant.

from GardenRant https://ift.tt/3eugefL

[mrstevenbushus]

The value of hiring consultants for your building project

A deep desire to make our money go further means we tend to focus on buying materials and skilled labour when budgeting for a project.

This is completely understandable – after all, making savings in these areas will yield tangible results, so you get that instant gratification of money well spent.

We’re far less enthusiastic about paying for consultants, however, maybe because the outcomes are not so obvious and the word itself is often considered synonymous with ‘expensive’.

Somebody once described a consultant to me as “a person who, when you ask the time, borrows your watch, tells you what the time is and then sells the watch back to you.” In other words, money for old rope.

But the truth is the right consultants can have a vital role in adding value to your project – and they have the ability to save you considerable time and money, too. So this month I’m looking at some of the best professionals to go to, and how their advice can help make your scheme a success.

Planning consultants

These experts can prove critical to the success of your self build journey (and can be just as important to a renovation, conversion or extension).

Without planning permission, you simply don’t have a viable project. Add that to the paucity of suitable plots and the number of hoops that have to be jumped through before you can gain consent to start building a residential dwelling, and the whole process can quickly feel quite daunting.

Planning is often referred to as a game, and having someone who understands the rules and the mindset of the referees can be invaluable.

These consultants tend to have served their time as officers of a local planning authority (LPA), and often in the LPA catchment they work in. So their advice is usually based on knowledge of the systems, policies and personalities involved in their area.

They’ll be able to help you navigate the process and give you an honest appraisal of the likelihood of gaining consent.

Read more: How much does it cost to get planning permission?

While most minor applications are approved pretty much on the nod, contentious plans for new homes can stir up a hornet’s nest of opposition.

So knowledge of how to present your proposal in the best possible light, while complying with national and local planning policies, is worth paying for.

Quantity surveyors

Bringing a quantity surveyor (or QS, as they are usually referred to) on board can seem like a bit of a luxury. After all, your contractor or builder’s merchant can advise on how much material you need and what the labour will cost, can’t they?

While that may be true, the question you need to ask yourself is how sure are you that the prices you’ve been quoted are accurate or complete?

Read more:  Building surveys for home renovation projects

A QS can take your plans and accurately predict how much of everything you’ll need, how long it should take your builder or trades to put it all together, and therefore how much it should cost to complete.

The service doesn’t come cheap, but it can easily pay for itself on large or complex projects.

What’s more, you can use the information provided (less the prices) to inform quotations from builders. So when they reply, you will have a solid idea of the value for money contained in each quote.

You’ll also have the opportunity to challenge any that appear too high or too low. Another way to gain much of the same detailed advice is to use the Build It Estimating Service.

Quantity surveyor vs estimator

Approved inspectors

When it comes to securing building control approval, you have the choice of using your local authority’s (LA) in-house service or an approved inspector (AI) from a private company.

They both have their merits – and in many cases they can be a valuable source of information about potential pinch points in your project.

As the name suggests, your local authority inspector will be based in the area, so they can usually be on site at short notice.

They will also have a good knowledge of presiding soil conditions and be familiar with many of the builders in your region.

You’ll know how much they charge upfront, too, because it’s published on their website – but this will be the same regardless of complexity (which may work in your favour or against).

An approved inspector will approach the job on a risk basis, meaning that simpler jobs can be cheaper: less supervision is required because there’s less to go wrong.

AIs and structural warranty providers may offer a tied up package, so their inspections can be combined. This makes for fewer site visits (potentially saving money) and only one inspector for both aspects, so there’s less chance of disagreement between the two.

The only thing an AI can’t do is issue a stop notice if something is going drastically wrong on site. But they can issue a reversion notice that hands responsibility for Building Regulations approval back to the local authority, which does have the power to stop works.

Ecological consultants

If your proposed project might affect any protected flora and fauna on the site – think the likes of bats, newts and rare orchids – your LPA will ask you to undertake an ecological survey.

This is especially common if you are undertaking a conversion or replacing an existing dwelling.

Environmental protection has become an industry in its own right, and I could relate many stories of self builds being delayed or becoming much more expensive because of the measures demanded to protect endangered species.

In itself, this is no bad thing, but given that the costs associated with dealing with bats and the like can be astronomical, it is well worth finding out if you are likely to run into a problem before you set out on a major building project.

Read more: How to deal with bats on site

In my experience, ecological consultants are passionate about what they do and as a result, their reports can be very thorough and detailed.

That’s all well and good, but the lines can sometimes be blurred by phrases like “there could be [insert rare species] present” or “this is the perfect environment for [insert endangered critter] to thrive”.

This leaves the door open for planners to question whether there might be an ecological risk and to err on the side of safety, which can pin massive costs on you.

Reports should be worded in such a way that they make it completely clear if there is or is not a problem to be resolved. If there is, you’ll have to deal with it, if not, you can crack on.

Heating & lighting consultants

I’ve grouped these two professionals under the same heading because they both serve the same purpose in their respective disciplines.

It is very easy to let your plumber decide how many radiators you need and where they should go, or for your electrician to make the call on what type of lighting and where – but both aspects will have a huge impact on the experience of living in your new home.

Plumbers and heating engineers are not the same thing, and having someone accurately calculate the likely demand for heat and hot water in your new house is vital if it is going to be comfortable and economical to live in.

Under or over specifying the hardware can cause major problems, especially when it comes to renewables such as air and ground source heat pumps, which must be accurately sized to meet a household’s requirements.

For those of you going down the Passivhaus route for energy performance, a Passivhaus-qualified consultant is a must before you start design work – the chances are this will be your chosen architect or designer.

Lighting can make or break the atmosphere of your new home. It’s easy to specify a grid of halogen downlighters and a ceiling rose in the middle of each room, but is that really the best option?

Read more: Lighting cost guide

A skilled consultant specialising in this field can address your requirements for ambient, accent and task lighting using smart controllers and the latest low energy LEDs throughout.

If you want a high-quality feel to your home, getting the lighting right is a really cost-effective way of doing so.

Financial advice & project protection

When it comes to obtaining a suitable mortgage and insurances, I’d always recommend that you speak to expert consultants.

Arranging finance for a self build or conversion project is often outside the scope of the high street lenders. So specialists in their fields, such as BuildStore and Self-Build Zone, are an invaluable resource. Their experienced consultants are invariably a wealth of information on the best options for your scheme.

Other advisors

I could also blow my own trumpet here. There are a few self build consultants like me out there, and every now and again we might be asked to meet up with clients contemplating a self build to run through their designs, look over their potential plot and suggest options to make the build as smooth and cost-effective as possible.

I like to think I’ve saved some of them considerable sums by pointing out potential pitfalls that might be overlooked and, on occasion, I have advised clients to walk (or run) away from a scheme that could be a potential money pit.

It’s so easy for potential self builders to see everything through rose-tinted glasses when a nice-looking plot comes up. Sometimes an impartial and fresh pair of eyes is just what is needed to inject a dose of reality into the merits or perils of a project.

The post The value of hiring consultants for your building project appeared first on Build It.

Article reference The value of hiring consultants for your building project

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Ruffled Feathers and the Corkscrew Swamp

Lillian Russell. Photo credit: Pittsburgh City Paper

Feathers might not have been ruffled if actress Lillian Russell, and other early 20thcentury fashonistas, had not sashayed around in hats with colorful plumes, plucked from wading birds. And, if there had not been a fight to save the birds, there might not be a Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary in southwest Florida today.

The feathers of Florida wading birds at that time fetched as much as $30 an ounce, twice the value of gold. The Florida legislature was pressured to ban the hunting of wading birds. That was insufficient, so activists held a fundraiser to hire wardens, three of whom were killed in the line of duty. Other wardens disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to them. Peer group pressure proved more effective, and safer, in the fight against plumed couture.

Great egrets. Depositphotos.

Here’s a link to a story about women who saved birds:

2.5 million wading birds once lived in Florida wetlands.

Today loss of shallow wetland habitat is the primary threat. An estimated 100,00 wading birds now live in Florida. In the early hours they forage for food in the swamp and the shallow wetlands, and then the birds return to the swamp to roost late in the day.

To reach the Audubon’s Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, on the northeast fringe of Naples Florida, you drive past cookie-cutter suburban developments with clipped hedges and man-made lakes with their gushing fountains. (The Corkscrew River got its name because of its twists and turns, but Florida developers didn’t think it sounded romantic, so changed it to the Imperial River.)

This was once part of a natural landscape of bald cypresses that spread over 50,000 acres. Bald cypresses were extensively cut for saw timber during World War II. The logging expanded during the post-war U.S Marshall Plan. Rot-resistant cypress timber was shipped to Europe. Business was good.

Beginning in 1954, 2,880 acres, including 768 acres of old-growth cypresses, were deeded from two local lumber companies to the National Audubon Society. Nearly 14,000 acres of the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary is protected today. There are 500-year-old-growth bald cypresses that reach over 100’ tall. The largest bald cypress has a circumference of 28’.

Rose Cooper and a big, bald cypress.

Keith Johnson guided our morning tour a few weeks ago. The former energy executive from Columbus, Ohio, has been guiding groups for ten years. Keith has absorbed a staggering amount of the sanctuary’s natural history.  I needed his tour more than I had imagined. My senses had been deadened by months of Kentucky’s winter of cold and rain.

At the outset of our tour, my state of mind made me recall a Mark Twain quote: “You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” When I first arrived, I could barely see the swamp for the bald cypresses. A dose of Florida wilderness slowly brought me back around.

Keith Johnson loves the Corkscrew Swamp. His tour was more informative than a “pun-lobbing, pistol-wielding” Skipper on a Disney World Jungle Cruise. Keith’s walk, along a winding, elevated walkway, followed a tiny portion of the sheet flow of seasonal water that begins in Lake Trafford, before it reaches the Corkscrew Sanctuary and descends indecipherably downhill into pine flatwoods of slash pines and sabal palms, dotted with yellow-flowering tickseed Coreopsis leavenworthii. The water proceeds through wet prairies of sand cordgrass and buttonbush until it reaches swamps filled with massive bald cypresses, air plants, Spanish moss and Florida strangler figs.

Keith Johnson

There was so much I didn’t know about the bald cypress.

Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum)is a predominantly Eastern North American species of the coastal plains from Cape May, New Jersey, to East Texas. But the monoecious tree (the male flowers occur higher in the tree and rain down pollen on the females for fertilization) also grows in wetlands, north to Kentucky and southern Illinois. Bald cypresses, for landscapes, are very versatile conifers capable of growing in sun or partial shade, in wetlands or dry soils that are either acidic or alkaline. I have seen trees growing in the Miami tropics, and they are cold hardy (Zone 4) to Toronto. According to Mike Dirr’s Encyclopedia of Trees and Shrubs, “The rich, green foliage appears on feather-like branches and turns rusty orange to brown in autumn.”

Bald cypress foliage. Depositphotos.

I had previously thought the knobby “knees,” that grow around the periphery of bald cypresses, allowed the trees to breathe. But the knees play no role in oxygenation. Keith explained that these buttressed trees, together with the knees and roots of nearby trees, when woven among one another, support the trees from hurricane-strength winds. Though treetops can be blown out, few trees are toppled in hurricanes.

Knobby knees in the Corkscrew Swamp.

Toward the end of the tour, we saw what I thought was a big alligator sunning herself on a dry hummock. She was eight feet long. Not so big, we were told. Keith said the world-record alligator sighting was 19 feet long. This scared the wits out of us.

The tour group soon dispersed. Rose and I followed our tour guide. I wanted to learn more; Keith was ready for lunch. He told us how an Anhinga can fly into the swamp’s water, dip just below the surface and pierce fish with its “stiletto” bill.

A pig frog grunted near a clump of inland leather ferns with ten-foot-long fronds. Keith pointed to a dahoon holly and two birds—an American limpkin and a bittern—and then we said goodbye. We’d only walked one-half mile in two and a half hours.

This unique, remnant ecosystem, once so threatened, and now so carefully loved and preserved, might not exist if activists had not stood up for conservation and fought popular fashion.

Bald cypress knees in Cave Hill Cemetery in Louisville, Kentucky on March 7th.

Over the past few weeks, since our visit, I can’t stop thinking about the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. Inside it, Keith Johnson helped me set aside thoughts of the outside world for a few hours.

I realize, now, how lucky I have been for blessings I have found—outdoors—in public parks, gardens and natural areas. These random epiphanies pass in the blink of an eye but always stay with me.

I will remember Keith’s tour whenever I see a bald cypress.

Ruffled Feathers and the Corkscrew Swamp originally appeared on GardenRant on March 13, 2019.

from GardenRant https://www.gardenrant.com/2019/03/ruffled-feathers-and-the-corkscrew-swamp.html