#also on the bright side i did make a real dinner with like fresh vegetables and multiple elements

[theduchessofnaxos]

Ugh.

I have fallen into the pattern of getting my work done, but only by sitting at my desk for like 14 hours a day and taking advantage of the brief bursts of motivation.

I do not like living like this but I have no idea how to fix it.

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

Sanders Sides Coraline AU 

It’s nearing 3AM here, and I’m watching Cinema Sins Coraline. So... I decided to write a bit for my Sanders Sides Coraline AU.

This excerpt is when Thomas find the Other World, because I don’t feel like writing shitty parents tonight. And hey! Finally learned how to the do the ‘keep reading’ things!

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Thomas bent down his eyes narrowing as the tunnel of rainbow like colors expanded out in front of him. Now, for most people, this might seem like a bad idea. But for Thomas, after hardly having anything fun or exciting happen for the 2 weeks of moving in, this seemed like an adventure and chance he was willing to take. Not like his parents would notice he was gone... or dead.

Pushing his throw blanket off and crawling inside, Thomas let his curiosity guide him into the fabric tunnel. He got to he end and pushed open the door to find that... he was in the parlor room again? He blinked confused at that looking around at the area. 

There was some key differences, more furniture, cleaner, and the paintings on the wall were more cheerful. There were also some photos, but it was hard to see in the darkness. There was however one light, and some faint humming from that direction. The warm glow lead to the kitchen, and the sound was male by the deeper tones.

Carefully he moved down the hall and pushed open the door to see someone in a blue polo shirt with a tan cardigan and tan pants making food. Thomas blinked in shock at the intruder in his home, taking a step back only for the floor to creak. The person turned and looked at him with bright blue button eyes.

“Well hello there, kiddo!” he said happily, he had round glasses on a short, slightly rounded face. “Come, don’t be shy now!” he said happily putting down the bowl and whisk holding out his hand.

Thomas swallowed, “W-Who are...” he asked shakily, trying not to panic.

“Me?” the man laughed, sounding cheerful as ever, “I’m Patton, your Other Father kiddo!” he said with a bright smile at him, moving his curly brown hair out of his face.

“Other... Father?” Thomas echoed confused to him, looking around at the full cabinets of foods. The lights cast a warm glow on the clean walls and counters.

Patton beamed at him, “Yup! I’m your dad, kiddo, I guess I’m just ‘better’.” he jokingly said going back to stirring the contents in the bowl. “Mother dear is outside in the gardens getting some fresh vegetables for dinner.”

Thomas looked at the stuff on the stove, though did keep his distance from the open flames. Patton then looked at him with his unblinking, button eyes, “I’ve got an idea, why don’t you go get your brothers, dinner should be ready by the time.” he suggested to Thomas, ruffling his hair.

Looking at him confused at that Patton beamed, “Virgil is upstairs in the attic and the twins are in the basement.” he told him, “Go on sport.” with that he turned back to getting the ham out of the oven.

Thomas walked away confused, but the other had every opportunity to harm him so he must be okay. That or Thomas was dreaming, one of the two. Walking to the hallway he decided to go to the attic first, as he disliked the basement of the house. The way up was quiet, not even the stairs creaked as he got to the attic door and knocked on it twice. Thomas for a moment thought this was a joke, until the door open and he was looking up at a teenager with a baggy purple and black hoodie. Thomas eyes traveled up from the holey black pants to the purple button eyes looking at him with a raise eyebrow

“Something you need?” who Thomas guessed was Virgil, asked him.

Thomas swallowed hard, “Uh... Patton... Dad, said that dinner is ready and to get you and the twins.” he said carefully, a little scared.

Virgil titled his head then smiled, “Well we best get the twins then.” he said to Thomas as he walked out closing his door. “Come on then bro.” he grinned ruffling Thomas’s hair, his hand was firmer than Patton’s as Virgil lead the way down the stairs. Thomas carefully following behind, this dream was just getting stranger. “So... your my brother?” he asked Virgil who nodded looking at him over his shoulder.

“Yup, your Other Brother.” he said calmly though he was smiling. Thomas frowned, “But I don’t have a brother.” he told him.

Virgil shrugged, “In this world you do though, and that’s me and the twins. I promise, I’m telling the truth.” he said as they turned in the hallway. Thomas followed quickly turning to see someone in the doorway who turned them.

“Out of your room Emo?” the man in a lack caplet and yellow button eyes said hanging his hat on the hanger. “That’s a first.”

“Oh hush dad.” Virgil snarked back, the man made a face playfully messing with Virgil by shoving him and ending with them play fighting for a moment. The man then looked at Thomas and grinned, “You must be who my darling Patton told me about.” he said with a grin, “I’m your Other Father as well child.”

Thomas just nodded to that as he grinned, “Names Janus.” he said holding out his hand as Thomas shook it awkwardly. “Guess you two kids are gonna get the rascal's.” Janus hummed looking at the door. “Yeah, dad said dinner is ready.” Virgil said with a shrug putting his hands in his hoodie pockets.

Janus nodded, “Well don’t want to let the food get cold, best hurry along. Logan dear won’t be happy if you keep him waiting.” he chuckled as Virgil nodded with a smile and walked outside. Thomas took a minuet watching Janus leave as he walked after Virgil, once outside he frowned, “How can I have two fathers?” he asked confused.

Virgil looked at him, “You like to question things, don’t you?” he asked back as Thomas flushed at that. “Look kid, you just do, and they are the best dads one could ask for.” he promised him as they walked down the porch stairs and turning to the stairs that lead to the basement door. “This one is normally unlocked compared to the one in the house.” he told him.

Thomas just nodded, deciding not to ask why as he didn’t want Virgil to snark at him. Walking over as Virgil knocked hard once and just walked in. Looked at the open door for a moment, before following Virgil inside after hesitating, he walked into a large room that had one side painted in green and silver and the other was in gold and red. “Oi!” Virgil yelled out, “Things on and two, dinner is ready! Get your asses in gear!” he called out.

Sounds were heard from the double bathrooms as out of the one from the red side came a guy in a very princely outfit, and dark red button eyes with green thread. This teen huffed. “Really my chemically imbalanced brother, must you just barge into our room?” he scolded. “It’s my house too Princey.” Virgil said back calmly with a nonchalant attitude. “Beside our little brother decided to show up.”

“Little brother!?” came from the green door as it opened, out stepped a guy in a very... exaggerated outfit. Thomas wasn’t sure if he was going for the opposite of his twin or over done villain. Green button eyes with red threat stared at Thomas through wild brown and white locks. “Great! We need a prince for the castle!” he cheered going over and picking up Thomas and tossing him up into the air.

Thomas squeaked as he landed on the bed of the other, Virgil moved his head in the way that would be someone ‘rolling their eyes’. But, as they were buttons, he wasn’t sure. “Come on, we don’t want mom getting upset at us for letting the food go cold.” Virgil grumbled. “Bro, meet your twin brothers, Roman and Remus.” he said quickly. Roman squawked, “For shame, such a lame introduction.” he then bowed to Thomas, “Prince Roman actually, your amazing older brother.”

Then Roman yelped as Remus pushed him out of them, “And I’m Duke Remus! the even better brother!” he said, Roman scowled as i ended with them wrestling each other. Virgil huffed, “Guys come on! I’m hungry!” he said as Thomas giggled a bit, these guys didn’t seem half bad.

Getting up from the bouncy green and black bed with tentacle pictured covers, he ran up after Virgil the twin following close behind and into the house. Inside Patton looked at them, “Wash your hands kiddos!” he said quickly, Thomas went to do so as the twins and Virgil grumbled at that trudging after him. Inside the dinning room when Thomas went in after finish up first, he walked in to see another man setting the table. This guy had on a black polo shirt and blue eyes with black pants that were more dressy than Virgil. Sitting on his face, framing the dark blue and silver thread button eyes, was some thick rectangular glasses.

Thomas wondered if they could even ‘see’ to have ‘bad eyes’ but kept that thought to himself. He did near jump when the man looked at him and hummed, “Well hello Thomas.” he said to him calmly. Blinking in shock Thomas hesitated, “You know my name?” he asked, the others hadn’t said he name yet so he figured they didn’t know it.

Nodding to him, “Ofcourse, I know the names of all the kids here, you’re no different.” he promised, “I��m your Other Mother, Logan.” he said with a curt nod. Thomas blinked at that, his ‘mother’ was a guy? Well, he did have to dads, so this couldn’t be any stranger. “Care to help me set the table?” Logan asked him, with a dumbfounded nod Thomas gripped the plates setting them out at each place with a cloth in front of the chair.

“Don’t worry Thomas.” Logan said after Patton started to set the food on the table, “We’ve been waiting for you, we aren’t here to harm you.” he smiled faintly, after only ever giving cool or calculating looks. Thomas shifted a bit, “That’s... comforting, but what do you mean you’ve been waiting for me?” he asked curiously.

Virgil looked up from helping Patton set the table, “Every kid has Other Parents, Thomas. Right, mom?” he asked looking at Logan who nodded. “Yes, and you happened to find yours, which is lucky. We are here to help you where your real parents are lacking.” Logan told him calmly.

“Oh...” Thomas muttered looking down, was it really that obvious his parents weren’t the best of people? A hand that was cold and smooth lifted his chin to meet Logan’s button eyes, “Don’t cry now, I know your home life isn’t the best, but we are here now. We’ll be a family you need, promise.” he looked at Thomas with a faint smile that was kind and loving, like how he was told moms were to smile at you.

Patton hugged him quickly, the other was rather squishy to the touch, but he was bigger round than stick person Logan, but at least slightly taller than Janus. “We love you Kiddo, and this place was meant for you to find it.” he giggled kissing Thomas’s forehead.

Taking their seats at the table, Thomas was next o Virgil and Logan, with Remus across from him. Patton was at the other end of the table flanked by Janus and Roman. Logan gave thanks calmly and helped Thomas get some food so the other had a healthy balance, while the others got theirs. Thomas was sheepish about this whole thing, but the food did smell good and looked edible. “How is it Kiddos?” Patton asked, smiling brightly.

“Great as always dad!” Virgil said cheerfully as Roman and Remus said the same. Thomas shyly nodded, “It tastes amazing.” he said softly as Patton beamed at him, his freckles showing when he did. The ham did taste great, it was tender and juicy, he happily ate his corn with his mash potatoes.

“Ha! See I’m not the only who who mixes them Roman!” Virgil declared point his fork at him. Roman scoffed, “You two are just weird.” he said with a wave of his hand, Logan chuckled at this smiling fondly at his kids.

“Whatcha guys want to drink?” Janus asked everyone as Thomas blinked in shock when the chandler came down for them with different drinks in it. Logan hummed, “We have sodas and flavored water along with milkshakes.” he told Thomas who looked a little overwhelmed.

“Er... I’m not picky.” Thomas said honestly, Logan hummed with a nod getting Thomas some grape juice as it was higher up. He happily drank some, smiling a bit at the sweet, but very flavored taste. He looked around the table to see the group was very happily chatting to each other, then he looked at Logan. “No need to be scared Thomas, I can bet this is a bit overwhelming.” he said calmly.

“Kind of...” Thomas said shyly, Logan nodded slowly and seemed to be very understanding.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” Logan promised to him placing a comforting hand on Thomas’s shoulder. It did make him smile at how gentle Logan was being and he wasn’t forcing Thomas to speak like his real mom did. Thomas took a moment, wiping his fingers on the napkin in his lap, “it’s just...” he looked conflicted but Logan remained silent. “This all seems too good to be true, almost magical in a way... I must be dreaming.” he said to Logan honestly.

“Understandable that you’d have doubts, given how your current life is. But, this is very real.” Logan said softly to him, though he didn’t have eyelids, Thomas could tell the button eyes were soft in their gaze. Before Thomas could say anything he yelped in pain when Remus pinched him under the table, “Felt that right?” Remus cackled out.

Logan gave a stern glare, “Remus.” he said carefully, as Remus looked sheepish and ducked his head. “Sorry Mom, sorry Thomas.” the duke mumbled out quietly as Logan nodded to him.

Well that did prove Thomas could feel pain, so he wasn’t dreaming, but still. Logan sighed looking back at Thomas, “Don’t worry Thomas, he’s just trying to help.” he smiled at him, going back to dinner, Thomas finished his plate and drink, feeling a bit more at ease as time went on.

“You kiddos gonna play outside later?” Patton asked happily to the group. Remus grinned again, “Yup, now that we have our Prince here, our castle is complete!” he said was Roman nodded along. Virgil scoffed, “Am I playing Dragon Witch again?” he asked. “Oh don’t be like Emo! You play a great dragon!” Roman whined as Thomas snickered at Virgil’s playful scowl.

“You like games Thomas?” Logan asked curiously, “The twins are great at games in the forest.” he promised. Thomas looked at Logan and shyly nodded, “Yeah, tough there aren’t many kids around the house.” he said softly, especially during this covid stuff.

Logan beamed at that, “Well now you have brothers, right kids?” he asked as Remus was nodded along with Roman happily, Virgil gave him the peace sign with a relaxed smile. Thomas did smile at that with a nod at that, yeah, Logan was right. But, before he could say anything he found himself yawning. “Goodness, it is late.” Janus said looking at the clock, “Might have to change plans boys.” he said sadly.

Remus pouted, but Virgil tried to stifle a yawn himself as Roman did look a little sleep now that the other two started up. Patton giggled, “Come on kiddos, tomorrow you can play outside all day.” he promised them as they got up together.

Thomas sleepily followed them, as Logan looked at him, “Head onto bed, we’ll be up to tuck you in after the others.” he promised. Tuck him in? His mom and dad never did that. Sluggishly making his way upstairs, as his stomach was full for once and it was late, Thomas opened the door to his room on the second floor. “Woah!” he breathed out.

His room had new rainbow rug, with stars and planets on the ceiling that seemed to move on their own. Heck, it didn’t even look like there was a ceiling! Little lights danced around the room like fire flies and stuffed animals waved at him from the bed and walls. Thomas gazed around his mouth gaped open in awe as he sat down on his bed that had puppys and cats on it.

The door opened as he turned to see Logan, Patton, and Janus walk in, “Like it?” Patton grinned, “Jannie and I worked hard on it.” he told Thomas.

“I love it!” Thomas cheered as he hugged Patton and then Janus, then jolted away a little sheepish that he did that. But looking up he only saw bright smiles at him. “Glad to here it darling.” Patton cooed as he helped Thomas to bed. “But, tomorrow is another day, and we expect to see you back here soon.” “That’s right, wouldn’t do for you to be tired.” Janus teased him bopping Thomas’s nose.

Smiling at that, Thomas yawned again as Logan pushed the covers over him kissing his forehead along with the two other fathers. “Goodnight Thomas.” Logan said softly, “Sleep well.” Humming faintly as Thomas closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted for once since moving here.

“See you soon.” the three said in unison as Thomas fall into a dreamless sleep under warm covers.

Light filtered through his window as Thomas opened his eyes, lifting the covers only to find his room wasn’t colorful again. The stars were gone, and the walls were there dull grey.

He frowned, had it really all be a dream?

[junie-bugg]

The Heartrender - Chapter Three: Flickers

Hello all!

Here’s chapter three of my Everlark fic ‘The Heartrender’, in which I inadvertently utilized the “only one bed trope” 😏💕

You can read here on Tumblr or here on AO3 (I suggest reading on AO3 because I add a poem at the beginning of each chapter that I feel fits nicely with the story.)

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content

Relationship: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, witch!Katniss, witch-hunter!Peeta, AU - Shipwrecked, AU - Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Furs and Fires, Angst and Fluff and Smut, sexually experienced Katniss, virgin Peeta, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loss of Virginity, Laughter During Sex, Blood and Injury, Imprisonment, Peeta has some prejudices to work out, Peeta also has an accent, Inspired by Six of Crows

Summary:

He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.

After a shipwreck has left an abducted witch and a member of the ominous Order bent on wiping out her kind stranded on the icy shores of an uninhabited land, the two must work together to survive or face tearing each other apart in the process.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Chapter Three: Flickers

Night had fallen, and with it, the temperature. Peeta allowed the witch to hold his arm so she could keep his blood warm. When she retracted her hand every once in a while to readjust the pelt around her shoulders, his jaw clenched. 

He shouldn’t miss her touch. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?” she asked. 

“Near the northern border of the Permafrost. Though I don’t know how far from the capital we were before the ship sank.” 

“We’re walking to Fjordhingă then?” 

“Yes,” he replied. Fjordhingă was the trading capital of the north. It was to be the last stopping point of The Bloody Rose’s voyage before they headed west to Sjorkden. If he and the witch could make it there by foot, perhaps Peeta could talk their way onto a ship. But how would he get the witch on board? What if she ran away? The thought had been nagging him like a fly on his brow.

Even with the witch there to keep his blood pumping, he felt his limbs freezing up as the temperature continued dropping. He desperately scanned the darkening horizon, hoping to find an outcropping of rocks they could huddle under, or maybe another whaling camp. Instead, he spotted a gabled roof. 

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed and started tugging the witch along. 

“Lieutenant…” she said apprehensively. 

It wasn’t just some stray shack. It was a fishing village, with squat houses and a trading outpost, all perched on the cliffside and overlooking the ocean. One circular dirt road cleared of rock and vegetation lay at its center and clusters of small stone buildings had been constructed around it. The houses had wavy glass panes in the windows and soot-blackened chimneys, though no light shone onto the street and no smoke rose into the sky. 

An abandoned village then. 

Even better. 

Peeta hastened his pace. 

“Lieutenant, stop!” the witch yelled, tugging him back behind the village’s low border wall. “Look at the flagpole!”

Peeta’s heart sank when he saw an ominous black flag waving high above the rooftops. 

Black was for plague. No wonder the place seemed abandoned. 

Everyone had died. 

He thought they were going to move on, but the witch set her shoulders back. Her face took on a quiet focus.

“We need to be careful. We can’t just barge in. There may be corpses.” She dropped his arm and moved around him. He watched her walk to the door of the closest house and lay a palm to its wind-weathered surface before he could stop her. 

He sucked in a breath. 

She was too close. 

“Don’t!” he barked and pulled her away. 

She whipped her head around, a scowl pulling her brows together. “You’d rather we die of plague then allow me to use my god-given powers?” 

“Don’t drag god into this.”

“Oh don’t worry. I doubt we have the same one,” she retorted. “Now get out of my way.” 

He didn’t want her touching that door, but he knew what she was doing. He’d read about the practice of purification in class, but he hadn’t imagined it would smell so good. 

Pure white light emanated from within the building, flooding out in bright streams from the windows, the minuscule cracks in the stone walls, the deep hollow of the chimney. Long shadows crept along the ground, shifting in oblong patterns as the light in the house moved. The witch’s hair and clothing snapped in some enchanted breeze, pulling ebony locks and fur upwards in a cascading arc until the light faded and gravity pulled her hair back down in a glossy curtain. 

The air tingled with the sharp scent of mint. 

“I thought you could only manipulate bodies,” Peeta got out. 

“I can do a great many things you wouldn’t understand, lieutenant.” 

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered. Lieutenant was his title from the Order. It felt wrong to hear her speak it here. 

“Would you rather I call you by your name?” she asked. 

Peeta didn’t respond. 

“Didn’t think so.” She turned the brass knob and the door swung in on itself. “Welcome home, lieutenant.” 

X

By noon the next day, she had purified the entire village. 

It was a spell, an easy one, that burned away rot and disease. Each time she pressed a hand to a doorway, the windows filled with that bright celestial light, her hair rose above her head as a flame rises above a candlewick, and she burned away any trace of plague inside. Scraps of cloth that had been coughed into, drops of dried blood on the floor, corpses that had been left behind. Each house was spotless when she was done. 

They had slept in the house farthest from the others, on the far side of the village. It was small, with only a kitchen, sitting area, and one bedroom. There was a sizable stone hearth in the kitchen, plenty of split logs in a wicker basket by the back door, even some strips of salted caribou meat in the pantry. First, they had scarfed down the meat, and only after, with the salted flesh chewed and swallowed, did they think of their thirst. Peeta made a fire while the witch lugged a burnished pot outside to gather snow. They drank the warm melted water and then collapsed into bed with their clothes still on. 

It was a real bed, with a canopied frame and pillows and soft, quilted blankets. Peeta was too tired to object when the witch curled in against his chest, and once more he spent the night with his nose buried deep in her hair. 

As exhausted as he was, Peeta was a soldier. He woke early, as he always did, and found that he couldn’t fall back asleep. The pale morning light of dawn bled through the curtains. Anyone else would have rolled over and tried to catch a few more hours of shut-eye, but Peeta couldn’t. The witch’s heat against his chest was too much, like a beating, throbbing wound that refused to heal. He untangled his arm from around her and then hurried to the door, grabbing a spear in the pretense of hunting. 

Winter burned his nostrils as he took in deep lungfuls of air. He was a boy raised in the fjords of southern Sjorkden, and a man of the northern academy. He’d thought he’d seen the bitterest winters the world had to offer when ice would form between the stones of his tower dormitory and he and Yasser would have to sleep on the floor by the black iron furnace for warmth. They would go to breakfast with blue nail beds and teeth that chattered so violently sometimes it was hard to chew. But he realized those nights were nothing compared to this, a winter’s chill so sharp that it cut out a spot for you into the very landscape, made you feel as if your skin was crafted of snow, your bones pressed from ice. 

He secured the fur around his shoulders and tried to replace thoughts of piercing silver eyes with thoughts of breakfast. 

But the winds of the north were unforgiving, and the frigid bite of the air only reminded Peeta of how warm he had been with the witch. By the time he had finished hunting, having speared only one measly hare, his limbs were frozen, joints locked as if welded, lips numb under his teeth as he tried to bite the life back into them. 

He found himself anticipating coming back to the village, wanting what he so desperately fled only hours before; to tangle in bed with the witch once more, a merry fire crackling in the hearth, the warm press of her body cradled against his own, his nose buried in the hollow beneath her ear, soaking up the heady scents of jasmine and fresh rain and sunlight until he was drunk on her. 

His thoughts were peaceful until he remembered the sin of what he had been considering. 

Laying with the witch was practical. The use of her magic against the cold was necessary. There was nothing charming or romantic about having to rely on an enemy for survival. He should despise his needing her. 

She wasn’t human. She was dangerous. 

It was foolish to forget that.

X

Yasser collapsed into the seat across from Peeta, his dinner tray laden with a bowl of brown grits, boiled sausages, some mushy looking turnips, and a small cup of water. 

“Did you hear what happened to Larone?” he asked, his urgent tone cutting under the loud din of the dining compartment. 

“No,” Peeta replied, unsure if he wanted news of how Wilhelm was handling his first witcher voyage. The antics of newbies were fun to hear about at the start, but when tales of seasickness and fatigue reached the ears of experienced witchers, especially witchers on the cusp of earning their freedom, the stories were more annoying than entertaining. 

Yasser greedily stuffed a spoonful of grits into his mouth and swallowed before continuing. “Well, I’m telling you anyway. If I have to know, you have to know.” 

“Can I finish eating first?”

“No. Now eat your sausages, growing boy!” Yasser mimicked the garbled, high-pitched accent of one of the servants from the academy, Mrs. Jengon, who had doled out food in the great hall. Each and every student was a “growing boy” in her eyes. Even the ones who had finished their battle with puberty. 

Peeta frowned and took a tentative bite of sausage. 

“Alright, I’m going to try and say this with as much grace as possible,” Yasser said solemnly but then burst into peals of laughter, slamming a fist against the table so forcefully the plates rattled. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t think I can. Larone gave the Heartrender a little too much to chew if you know what I’m saying.” 

Peeta stilled. “He didn’t.”

Yasser cocked a thick eyebrow, his mouth crinkling around the corners. With his flaming red hair and bright green eyes gleaming under the oil lamps he looked like some kind of buff leprechaun. “He did. And now half his pisser is being packed in ice.” 

Peeta’s stomach rolled, his body instinctually clenching in phantom pain as he imagined it. He set down his fork with the sausage impaled on the end and pushed the plate away. 

“God…”

“But don’t tell anyone I told you,” Yasser added. “The commander wants to keep it under wraps. Doesn’t shine very well on him, does it? If his recruits are dumb enough to stick their cocks between witch jaws?”

Peeta didn’t tell a soul but the news still spread through the ranks like a wildfire during drought season. Yasser updated him at breakfast. Larone was in the infirmary being tended to by Dutch, the crew’s one doctor, and wouldn’t be out of recovery until the ship reached Sjorkden. Peeta felt bad for the boy, but it was his own foolishness that had gotten him into trouble, and now he’d never bed a wife or sire heirs. Larone’s power crawl was over before it had even really started. 

Peeta relieved Hans Gerholt from guarding duty that night, disgusted when he saw no one had bothered to clean the Heartrender up. Larone’s blood had splattered her face, dried, and then cracked. She looked absolutely monstrous with a red dipped chin. 

“You here for a good time too?” she said, picking up on Peeta’s discomfort. He didn’t respond, just sat down stiffly in the guard’s chair and listened to the creaking of the boat, the squeaking of rats in the walls, the soft clinking of the witch’s chains when she shifted across the cell floor. “Your little friend showed me his even littler friend. I barely bit him and it was half off.”

“Stop talking,” Peeta growled, angry at himself that he had risen to her bait. He knew she just wanted to get a rise out of him. The weeping girl was gone, replaced with one who had accepted she had nothing to lose. 

“Now your commander…” she drawled, eyes flashing in the partial darkness. “His would have taken more gnawing.” 

Peeta didn’t much care for the commander. He was old and cruel, but it was the principal of honor and his loyalties to the Order that made him rise so sharply from his chair that it tipped over. He lunged at her through the bars, pulling her up against the cold metal by her collar. “Hold your tongue, witch, or I’ll cut it out.”

She tsked quietly, hanging limply in his grip. “Did your commander ever tell you where he found me?” She saw the confusion in his eyes and clung to it. “Of course he didn’t. No pious soldier of Sjorkden would ever reveal he had been cavorting in a pleasure house.”

“You’re a whore,” Peeta whispered, almost disbelievingly, the pieces clicking into place. He released her and she fell to the ground in a weakened heap. 

On the surface, she looked the same. Wrinkled red dress, oily black hair, sunken cheeks. But now there was something alight inside of her. Heat smoldered like molten silver in her eyes. 

“You and your kind have called me many things, lieutenant. Witch. Slum scum. Unholy daughter of Krell. But I’m afraid ‘whore’ is where I draw the line. I did not choose that life, it was thrust upon me, and here I am now. Free of it.”

Peeta looked down at her. He thought the commander had put her in those iron hand caps to keep her from unleashing her powers. She could not kill if she could not curl her fingers. But now he suspected they had come from her time in Ellsworth. How long had she been wearing them? From the rust on the padlocks, he suspected a long time. “How ironic that you speak of freedom while you lounge in chains.”

“Freedom is a fickle thing, lieutenant. I may be stuck here in this cage, but I suspect you carry one wherever you go.” 

Peeta’s nostrils flared. That familiar rush of rage he experienced during combat surged through his limbs, but with nowhere to go, his head soon swam with it. “Do not pretend to know me. You’re repulsive. A perversion against nature.” 

“I am nature. You are just too brainwashed to see it.”

“Nature does not defile the earth. Or slaughter the innocent by the thousands.” 

“My people have committed no such crimes. We were healers before you forced our hands to bloodshed. I suggest you try looking upon yourselves before you go blindly doling out sentences.”  

Peeta was at a loss for words. The nerve of this girl, injuring Larone and then preaching about who the real enemy was. Coaxing out his anger and frustration when he was normally so good at hiding it. Ever since he ran away from home, he had learned the hard way that emotion in the face of an enemy was weakness. He could not afford to let her under his skin, no matter how hard she clawed away at him. He was ashamed to admit it, but he had found himself thinking about her on nights when he wasn’t on guard duty.

That stopped now. 

“Rot in hell,” he spat as he righted his chair.

“You will,” she growled.

X

The witch burned the red dress in the kitchen fireplace. The fabric steamed and curled into blackened strips, sending dark plumes of smoke up the chimney like released ghouls. Peeta didn’t have to ask her why she did it. He knew she burned the dress to try and burn away the memories of her capture, and perhaps the memories that came before. If he thought about it, the dress must have been from her time in Ellsworth. He could only imagine how a girl of her beauty would fare in the clutches of a pleasure house, the horrors unleashed upon her when the rights to her body were not her own. He wondered how she could even bear touching him. 

A man. 

A stranger. 

If burning the dress had worked, he couldn’t tell. She came to bed in a fur-lined nightgown and quietly rested her cheek on his breastbone. His cheeks burned, shame lacing itself into his stomach lining when he didn’t push her away. 

“I’ve never heard a heart song so gentle,” she murmured admiringly. She sounded surprised. 

Peeta’s chest ached. He was suddenly self-conscious of how fast he was breathing and in his fight to slow down, hadn’t asked her what she meant. 

They raided each house one by one. The people of the village were either dead or had moved on when the plague hit. They left behind dressers full of clothing, shoes, pots and pans, utensils, pottery, carving knives, firewood, axes, the occasional sword, hunting supplies, wax candles, furniture, toys, paintings, family heirlooms. All the trappings of domesticity. 

The pair took a pan here and a pair of shoes there. Peeta had found two large packs with which to stuff items in. His pack would contain a small assortment of kitchenware, food, some firewood, and the water sacks. She would carry extra clothing and furs. They planned on spending a couple of nights in the village before restarting their journey north to Fjordhingă. 

In the days they spent stocking up on provisions, the witch took over hunting duty. She didn’t hunt with spear or snare as Peeta had learned. She used her powers to crush windpipes and burst hearts. Wild dogs stopped dead in their tracks, keening over like sacks of potatoes. Birds plummeted from the sky, cold before they hit the ground. He enjoyed the bounty, feasting on a new roast every night and salting the leftovers, but with every meal, he grew warier. He had heard the stories of course, of the deathly potential that Heartrenders possessed, but seeing her in action was completely different from hearing some old tale around a campfire. Just how powerful was she? And when she determined he was no longer useful as a means of body heat or when their little truce no longer suited her, how easy would it be to kill him? A curl of her fingers or a flick of her wrist and he’d be dead. 

Maybe he’d made a mistake by letting her live. 

Every night when he watched her sleep, the voices of the masters pressed into his head, willing his fingers to close around her throat, to witness the light drain from her bulging, terror-filled eyes and have her know that he had bested her. 

Him. The seed of a pathetic, weak-willed baker. Wielder of no arcane power and with no legacy to help carve the way. Just him and his own two hands against the world. As it had always been. 

But no matter what his common sense was telling him, of how dangerous he knew her kind to be, he couldn’t do it. He would reach for her neck and then freeze, afraid to go any further. If she didn’t stir he’d stay his hand, running feather-light fingers across her pulse point, quietly admiring the way her angled features softened in sleep. But if her eyelids fluttered or her breathing changed he would retreat as if she had burned him. 

“Where were you sired?” Peeta asked one night as they ate a bird the witch had caught. The bones were small and Peeta had to be careful not to break them with his teeth. He gnawed on a piece of cartilage as he waited for her reply. 

“Excuse me?”

“I mean-” Krellian was not Peeta’s first language. He had picked it up between his boyhood and his blood christening into the Order, but he had limited knowledge of words. He learned Krellian and Narubi and Hannako from old, leather-bound textbooks and even older professors. For years he had studied all the archaic tongues they hoped he would someday snuff out, but he did not know slang or turn of phrase, and his accent was rounded in his mouth compared to the crisp consonants of a native Krellian speaker. 

She spoke as if she were tiptoeing through a flower field. 

He spoke as if he were crashing through it. 

“Where did you… grow?”

“Grow up?”

Grow up. Peeta slotted the term into his memory for future use. “Yes. Where in Krell did you grow up?”

The witch narrowed her eyes, those silvery irises glowing like moonlight from behind a cloud’s ragged border. “Why? Are you planning your next raid?”

“No, I-” He ducked his head, his cheeks burning furiously. “I’m just curious.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t tell you, lieutenant,” she snarled. She threw down her uneaten bird’s wing, splattering congealed blood everywhere. “Besides, you don’t deserve to know.” Her anger was eager, ready to be unleashed upon him even in quiet, semi-companionable moments such as mealtime. She confused him. Why was she flirty and seductive when they lay in bed together but bitter and closed off when he tried having a casual conversation?

Although to be fair, he hadn’t been very open with her either. And not particularly kind.

“It was just a question.”

“A dangerous one. Go ahead and ask another. See if I’ll talk.” Her eyes glittered as if they were playing a game she knew she would win. 

Just another thing he didn’t like about the witch. How ashamed he felt when talking to her. Minor slip-ups, cracks in his armor of indifference. She had a talent for coaxing them out of him as if she were pulling secrets from a drunk man.

But he was in too deep now. Might as well try to get something out of her. 

He lowered his gaze to the fire and asked, “Then what’s your favorite color?” 

The witch blinked. She hadn’t been expecting such a mundane inquiry. She was silent for a moment, probably contemplating if giving away this piece of information would in any way compromise her. She decided a favorite color was harmless. 

“Green.” 

He pictured it. The verdant green of a forest. Lush and deep and full of secrets. 

Just like her. 

“Mine is orange,” he offered. “Soft. Like a sunset.”

She cocked a dark brow. “Not red for the blood of your enemies?”

Peeta raised the drumstick back up to his mouth, suppressing a smile. “That comes in a close second.” 

She had laughed then, a sound so joyful and clear that Peeta’s heart clenched and he stopped chewing just to hear her better. 

X

She awoke screaming one night, flailing about under the sheets and shoving him away as if he were stabbing her. He had been awake when it started, unable to quiet a storm of racing thoughts. If he hadn’t been so alert, perhaps he wouldn’t have sprung to her aid so quickly. 

“What is it?” he demanded, suspecting there was something biting her under the covers. He threw the blankets back, but there was nothing. “Huh?” he asked when he couldn’t make out her quaking mumbles. 

“Just a dream, it was just a dream,” she whispered to herself, and then she dissolved into tears. Her face glistened wetly in the moonlight and she shrank away when he reached to pull the covers back over her. 

The next night, he took some furs and slept by the fire in the kitchen, afraid she wouldn’t want him in bed with her. But when he was about to doze off, she padded through the doorway. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Sleeping.”

“On the floor?”

“But… you… last night… ” he stammered. 

Her face hardened as she crossed her arms self-consciously. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’d feel better if you stayed in the room with me.” 

“You kicked me,” he argued.

“Not on purpose,” she hissed. 

The two glared at each other, and then the tension broke. The witch softened, her shoulders sagging like a loose bowstring. “Please.”

He should have told her no. Instead, he said: “Alright.”

X

She dreamed of clients. Harsh hands and sour breath. Shackles looped around a bed frame. 

He wasn’t allowed to touch her after those dreams. Not for a long while at least, and when they would eventually come together again, he let her choose when to climb back into his arms. 

“What makes me different?” he asked quietly one night as she clutched his shirt, her tears drying over his heart.

She raised her head to meet his eyes. “Can you feel your own heartbeat?” 

He could if he focused. If he held his breath and silenced his thoughts. He nodded. 

She sounded sad, as if she were quoting somebody when she said, “If you listen close enough, you can hear that all heartbeats are different.”

It sounded like Krellian nonsense. Heartbeats sounded like heartbeats, but it was out before he thought to stop himself. “What is mine like?”

She laid her head back down and inhaled slowly through her nose, listening. “It’s gentle and steady. Like the lapping of the ocean. Ever present and soothing. I’ve never heard one quite like it.” She inhaled again, steeling herself. “It makes me feel safe. Which is ironic because it belongs to you.” 

He smiled but she couldn’t see it. Then he asked, “And what does yours sound like?” 

There was a long pause and then she said, “You can listen if you want.” She sat up in bed, pulling him along with her, and with gentle hands twined through his hair, tipped his ear to her breast. 

It was hard to concentrate. The heels of her hand on his cheeks and her fingers laced across his scalp made him feel as if she were touching him everywhere. But then he forced himself to lean into her chest, the shell of his ear pressing against her sternum, searching for the sounds of her very being. 

At first, he heard nothing, just felt the rise and fall of her breaths, but then, as if cotton had been removed from his ears, he heard the heavy beat of life. The first thud was loud like a cannon shot, but the second was quiet, like the dull closing of a door. Her heart sounded like it was limping on stilts. Hobbling along unevenly. Long step, short step. Over and over. Cautious. Afraid. So unlike the girl he’d come to know. But it was all there, hidden away deep inside of her. 

“See?” she whispered. “We’re different.” 

But they weren’t. Not really.

When she fell asleep and Peeta remained awake, he tried reaching within himself to feel his own heart again. It was like the constant beating of waves as she said, but he didn’t find it soothing. Every beat felt achingly blunt, as if his heart was slowly ripping itself apart to make more room. 

It terrified him that he didn’t know what that meant.

X

On the morning of their departure, he rose, dressed in a black tunic and pants, clasped a heavy fur cloak around his shoulders, and then sheathed a sword at his hip. He stepped outside to swing it around, getting the feel for its weight. 

The sword was heavy, made of polished steel that glinted in the cloudy morning light. Compared to the swords he had grown up with, the blade was plain. There were no holy etchings in its metal face, no onyx embedded into the hilt, and no divine blessings had been uttered over it, but he felt a fierce rush of strength all the same. Peeta was used to heavy swords and the leather-wrapped pommel felt right in his hands, as if he’d been missing a part of himself without a weapon. 

“Is that really necessary?” the witch asked, her voice carrying from inside the house and over the frostbitten yard. When he laid eyes on her, a hot jolt flooded his body as if he’d just caught himself from falling off a roof. 

She leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, but he could tell from the way she warily focused on the blade that she was on high alert. A caribou hide nightdress brushed the tops of her dusky knees and her hair was loose and mussed on one side. The side she had pressed against his body in the night, Peeta realized. 

“What else would you have me use?” Peeta asked darkly, unsure why the witch got to use her powers whenever she wanted, but when it came to Peeta’s talents they were disapproved of. 

“You have a Heartrender with you,” she said arrogantly, pointing at herself. “You’re just going to be lugging around a sword for show and no offense but I’d rather you carry extra food.” 

“It’s not for show. This sword is to protect myself against you,” he said angrily, pointing the blade in her direction. 

She took a hurried step back as if she expected him to advance. There was a heavy, quiet moment as Peeta watched her from behind the sword’s edge. 

And then she sharply twisted her wrist. 

Peeta’s heart rate skyrocketed. 

Her voice was low, dangerous as she said: “I don’t know what your superiors told you, but a sword is no match for a Heartrender.” She began squeezing her fingers together and Peeta’s heart stuttered, his chest clenching painfully as if he were having a heart attack. Stabbing heat pulsing through every vein in his body as if his blood had turned to molten lava. He fell to his knees, dropping the sword into the hard-packed dirt with a hollow clang. 

“Stop,” he begged, clutching at his chest. His breaths came in ragged pants. He was falling apart under the pressure. “Please.” 

She tensed her hand, unsure whether or not to let up. Her eyes were frightened, but there was resolve there too, as if she had imagined this situation before and had already decided the outcome. This was her chance. She had a pack full of food and supplies. She had her enemy in her clutches. She was going to do it. He was going to die, right here, in an abandoned village where no one would think to come looking for him. Where no one would know his name. All who wandered would stay away from the black flag, and he’d be the feast for wild animals and the decay of time. 

He should have killed her when he had the chance but he had been weak and now his chances were spent. 

She squeezed tighter, her fingertips almost touching her palm. And then all of a sudden, her face crumpled. With a strangled gasp of breath, she released him. He fell to the ground in a quivering heap as his heart rate plummeted and then righted itself. 

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, trying to stem the flow of tears with her hands. She disappeared back inside the house and Peeta was left to stare shamefully at his own tears pooling in the dirt.

[unchartedterritoria]

A Scathingly Brilliant Idea, Not So Much (Sam Drake x Reader) -Chapter 2: The Date

There wasn’t supposed to be a part 2 to this, it was supposed to be a little one off piece of fluff. Well now I guess it’s a two chapter piece of fluff.

Part 1

Chapter Summary: The Date and why painkillers have warning labels

This is a horrible idea. This is a horrendous idea. This is an absolutely absurd, preposterous idea! You think to yourself as you pull on the sling that cradled your arm. Your whole arm hurt, a dull throbbing coming from the sight where you were shot by your soon to be date.

It had always been quite a production yourself getting ready for a date in the past, and that was with two functional arms. Allowing yourself a little more time than usual and a generous glass of white wine, you gingerly wiggled yourself into something presentable, a snow leopard print blouse with a pair of dark blue jeans. As you zip up the side of your boots, tying shoelaces impossible at the moment, your cellphone chimes.

Be there in 5.

“Oh boy,” you say aloud to yourself nervously.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you pull a brush through your hair with your free hand, letting your hair hang down long and natural for the night, going light on the makeup as well. Anything more than that just wasn't in the cards in your current state. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror. You grab your glass of wine and finish it off.

I'm going on a date. With a guy who shot me. Because I was hiding in his bushes. I'm officially a bad Lifetime movie.

The thought makes you chuckle and shake your head, but the slightest movements to your shoulder and arm cause you to wince in pain. Even with being as careful as possible, the wound was fresh. The hustle and bustle of getting ready had caused the pain to go from a dull ache to a loud throbbing roar, despite the wine you used to try and numb your pain as well as your nerves.

Reaching into the medicine cabinet, you grab the small bottle of pills that you picked up from the pharmacy that afternoon; A prescription for painkillers the ER doc had given you the night before with your paperwork. You give the directions a quick look:

'One every 4 fours hours as needed for pain.'

I can do that.

DO NOT DRIVE OR OPERATE HEAVY MACHINERY.'

He's driving, no problem there.

MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS.

Don't see that happening, WAY too nervous.

DO NOT DRINK WHILE TAKING THIS MEDICATION, MAY INTENSIFY THE EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL.

You purse your lips and stare moodily at the empty wine glass on your nightstand.

Well shit.

You shift your shoulder slightly to test it. A bolt of pain shoots down your slinged arm, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your wound. It makes you hiss and curse under your breath.

Fuck it, I'll be fine. It's not like I'm a lightweight.

You shake one out of the bottle and pop it in your mouth and choke it down with a gulp of water from your bathroom faucet. You wipe your chin with the back of your good hand as the buzzer to your apartment shrieks.

Oh lord, he's here.

You grab your purse, haphazardly throw the pill bottle in the bottom and head out the door to meet him in the lobby, not wanting him to get a glimpse of your disaster zone of an apartment.

As you come down the last flight of stairs, you see the man you had been ogling from your friend's balcony for the previous few weeks. Sam is studying the assortment of last names on the mailboxes, his hands shoved in his back pockets. He turns towards the staircase as he hears the sound of boots coming down the stairs. The sight of you makes an approving grin form on the corner of his lips.

Making your way towards him, you stop short.

“Hold it,” You tell Sam, his smile turning into a confused frown.

“Did you leave your gun at home?” You ask him.

He lets out a small relieved chuckle.

“No guns, I promise,” Sam assures you as you walk towards him.

“You're sure you're not armed?” You question him again.

Sam holds open his leather jacket, giving you a peek of the hunter green shirt and dark tan pants that he wore underneath.

“You wanna frisk me and check?” He asks, a hint of suggestiveness in his voice.

“I think you would enjoy that too much,” You tell him.

“See? Look at that, you know me so well already,” Sam flirts, the friendly banter draining the nerves from both of you as he escorts you out the door.

The restaurant Sam picked was nice, very nice. Waiting list nice. Sam orders a bottle of white wine and pours you a glass. Taking it in your hand, you pause for a moment, your brain flashing back to the pain pill that you had taken earlier. You didn't know a ton about pain medication. Still, you remembered the small, yellow sticker on the bottle warning you to not mix them with alcohol that you had already ignored once tonight.

“You alright?” Sam asks, seeing your hesitation.

You glance past the glass of crisp, white wine and fix on the eyes across the table from you. Sam's bright, inviting hazel eyes.

Screw it. What's the worst that can happen?

You take a sip and set your glass back down.

“Better now,” You tell him.

“How's the arm?” Sam asks, setting his glass back down on the table.

“A little sore. It's also got a hole it, thanks to you,” You inform him in a sickly sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Hey, you can't say I didn't warn you,” He says, raising his hands in defensive.

“I still can't believe you shot me. With a gun!” You try and keep your voice low. The sling on your arm was already giving you more attention than you were comfortable with. Evidently, broken people didn't go to fancy dinners.

“When I said I was gonna shoot, what did you think I'd use, a blow dart?” Sam quirks an eyebrow at you.

“It'd be original. But not very practical,” You nod in begrudging, logical acceptance.

At that moment, and possibly for the first time in your life, you felt your toes rubbing against the socks in your boots. A comforting sensation that stuck out to you and made you wiggle your toes back and forth against the cozy material.

Hmm, this is new. My feet have never felt so comfy in my socks before.

You take your wine glass in hand again and crinkle your nose. For some reason, it feels awfully light.

I didn't take that big of a sip, did I? You wonder, holding it in front of your face.

Fingers interlaced, Sam rests his chin on his hands while he watches you bounce the glass of wine in your hand.

“Problem?” He asks.

Your eyes snap passed the glass.

“Nope,” You say, setting it down gently next to you, “Nope, all good,” You give him a reassuring smile, despite the fact every muscle in your body had now relaxed to a point it hadn't in ages.

Dear Lord, I think I might be stoned, being your last thought as the waiter approaches the table, setting down a very large dinner plate with a small pink lump in the center, surrounded by multi-colored dots and swirls. You nervously thank the waiter and lean in towards Sam.

"Um, did we order, and I just forgot?" You ask him in a hushed voice.

Sam chuckles a little.

"Nah, this is just one of those places where the chef decides what you want, and they just bring it to you."

“Swanky.”

“My brother told me about it, said it'd be a good place to take a date.”

“You know, I think I had sheets that looked like this when I was a kid,” You tell him, waving your fork over the sauces covering the plate, making him smile.

“I think I did too,” He nods in agreement.

You poke at the pink mound at the center of the plate.

“It's a little pink lump,” You report to Sam.

"I think it's supposed to be crab or lobster," He says, poking at his own. His eyes suddenly go wide. "Oh shit, you're not allergic, are you?" He says as he watches you fork it into your mouth. You stop suddenly and stare at Sam in horror. You couldn't watch Sam squirm for more than a few moments before laughing mischievously.

"Nope, all good," You assure him, a visible wave of relief washing over him as he tilts his head back with a sigh.

“I'm sorry, I just- I had to. You set it right up there,” You tell him, waving your arms in defense, your fork still in your hand,

"But it is a tasty pink lump, so I would definitely eat it." Gesturing at his plate.

Sam ran a hand over his face and through his dark hair.

“Jesus, you had me there for a second,” He breathed, finally taking up his fork. “I would have felt like a real asshole if I put you in the Emergency Room two nights in a row.”

“Yeah, that would suck,” Your voice louder than you think, making Sam grin, not to mention causing eyes from tables close to you to dart your way as you top off your glass and Sams.

"So, what made you move next door to Jenn?" You ask, setting the bottle back down carefully on the tabletop.

"I got tired of doing what I was doing. I wanted something different," He admitted, wiping his mouth, "I figured a fixer-upper house like that would keep me busy for a while."

"That house? Oh yeah. When the old people left, it was like a straight-up ghetto move. Jenn and I looked inside when they were gone, and it looked like something out of an episode of Hoarders."

As you finish your sentence, your waiter appears and removes your plates, replacing them with new ones. The large oval in front of you now contained three small green lumps topped with delicate weeds surrounded by a swath of colored foams.

You scrunched your face as you stared at your plate, absently scratching at your immobilized arm. Sam eyed his own matching plate suspiciously.

"So, what do you think, animal, vegetable, or mineral?" He posed the question to you.

“Be dipped in shit if I know,” You mutter to yourself.

“What?” Sam asked incredulously, not sure if he actually heard you right.

“Hang on, you don't know? Haven't you ever been here before?” You ask, gesturing around the room with a finger.

“No, it was just somewhere Nathan told me about,” Sam put down his fork in resignation. “To be honest with you, this isn't really my kinda thing,” He admitted, leaning in closer to you.

"Oh, thank god! Cause I don't know how much longer I could do this. I'm high as a kite, and that foam looks like someone spit on my plate," The words tumbled out of your mouth quickly and honestly, making Sam laugh comfortably for the first time that night. For him, it felt like the pieces were starting to be put together.

You caught sight of one of the waiter's passing by and called them over to your table.

“Excuse me, can you tell me how many courses there are this evening?”

"This evening, the Chef is featuring a total of 9 courses with three sorbet intermissions for palate cleansing," The suit-clad lad in the apron said confidently and obviously well-rehearsed.

“Ah lovely, now, can you tell me, are any of those courses chicken wings or barbeque ribs?”

The waiter stared at you as if another head had sprouted from your armpit. His mouth gaped open, his brain obviously not ready for such a question. Sam smiled and felt for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Uh no, we don't have those,” He said slowly, each word spoken as if he wasn't sure if it was correct.

“Ah thought so, thank you very much,” You said politely before turning your attention back to your date.

“Can we get out of here?”

“Thought you'd never ask.”

“So tell me again why you shot me instead of Jenn?”

You sat cross-legged on spongy grass of the park near your apartment, the wind full of smells from the line of food trucks along its edge, and the sound of music and conversation from the people that filled the park that warm evening. Sam sat comfortably next to you, his back resting against the large silver maple like you, a charred spare rib clamped between his fingers. A sample of the small feast that sat between the two of you of ribs, wings, cornbread, and Cokes.

“No, seriously! She was the one that was making the noise!” You argue, dredging a saucy chicken wing through a puddle of blue cheese.

"Wouldn't that make her the better target?" The emphasis of the statement making a dollop of blue cheese fall from the wing onto your arm.

“You got stuff on you,” Sam said, his words muffled by the pork in his mouth.

You glanced down at the dressing on your forearm before looking back at Sam. Holding his stare, you bring your arm slowly to your mouth, and, doing what could only be called your best impression of a turtle at dinner time, ate the blue cheese off your arm with deliberate slowness. Your arm made it back down to your side before your face cracked, and you snickered with laughter. Sam's head dropped between his knees, his body hitching with laughter, a hand to his mouth to keep the food in. Finally managing to swallow, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ok, seriously woman, how many of those pain pills did you take?” Sam asks curiously.

“One! I swear!” You suck the last of the sauce from your fingers and reach blindly into your purse, feeling around until your fingers wrap around the small pill bottle.

“See? Just one!” You shake them in front of Sam.

“And, uh, that little warning tag there that just says don't mix them with booze, that was just there for decoration, yeah?”

You ponder your words for a moment.

“I thought that it was more of a suggestion as opposed to like a guideline or a rule,” You say smoothly, all the while Sam stares you down, unconvinced but amused. You were an adult who was he to tell you what to do?

“Yeah, how about I take these guys off your hands here. Temptation and all that,” Sam says, plucking the now sticky bottle from your fingers and putting them in his coat pocket.

“Um, hey now, what if the gunshot victim needs one?”

"Then the gunshot victim can call me," Sam grumbled in a low voice. His face close enough to yours, you could see the 5 o'clock shadow beginning to emerge on his face and the stray sliver of bbq sauce that splashed the edge of his chin.

All you can do is laugh skeptically.

“What?”

"Sam, you went on a date with a woman who was doing a Peeping Tom in your windows which you then shot. Said woman also made the oh so grown-up decision of mixing booze and painkillers. She proceeded to make an ass out of herself, not just at a fancy restaurant, oh no. Worst of all, I let you watch me eat wings in public, which is never a good idea.

I don't know if you haven't been on a lot of dates recently or what, but I was what you would call a bad date.”

“I once saw you hold up a 10 out of 10 scorecard and high five Jenn when I split my pants outside one day. You think I didn't know what I was getting into?” Sam said, cocking his head to the side.

“Jeez, did you see everything we did up there?” You mutter under your breath.

"How bout this?" Sam proposes as he stands up, brushing off his trousers, "Saturday night, we try this again, something more our speed, how's that sound?" He asks, holding out his hand. You take it as he effortlessly helps you off the ground.

"I like that idea," You say with a smile, face warming, and stomach aflutter.

“C'mon, lemme walk you home,” He says low in your ear, planting a chaste kiss on the apple of your cheek.

You take ahold of Sam's arm as you walk through the streetlight lined park, down the craggy sidewalk.

“You know, I wouldn't have needed those meds if someone hadn't shot me,” You say sardonically, nudging Sam in the ribs with your elbow.

“Jeez, you talk like you've never been shot before. Well, now you have, welcome to the club,” He says mockingly.

“You've been shot?” You ask, gripping his arm tighter, your eyes wide in surprise.

“And that story we'll just save for Saturday.”

[starswallowingsea]

Secret Santa Time

I have been waiting to post this forever!! I don’t normally write shippy stuff but I think this turned out pretty cute. 

This is a gift for @lestis, for the event hosted by @opsecretsanta2019, who I think is pretty great and a really sweet person that y’all should follow! That said, here’s my gift! 

Waking Up 

Fandom: One Piece 

Word Count: 1623 

Ship: SanUso 

Notes: CW for nightmares, see the end of the work for more notes

He was running again, the buildings around him familiar but strange. That didn’t matter now though. He saw his friends sailing away, towards their next adventure without him. 

He shouted at them, apologizing for acting the way he did, but they couldn’t hear him he thought. So he yelled louder, his words becoming more jumbled and mixed with sobs that he could barely understand himself anymore. But they kept sailing. 

And suddenly he was falling. Falling? Or drowning? He couldn’t breathe all the same.

---

Usopp awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and breathing heavy, he knew he had another nightmare. They had become so normal to him that when he actually got a good night's sleep it meant he didn’t dream at all. 

It was the same every night, reliving Water 7 and begging to be taken back by his friends and being left behind anyway. He tried every trick in the book to get them to stop but nothing worked.

But at this moment he knew he couldn’t go back to sleep, not yet anyway. His heart was beating too fast and breathing ragged, it would be endless tossing and turning in his hammock which would probably do more harm than help right now. 

So he swung his legs over the side of the hammock and jumped down quietly to avoid waking the others. He tiptoed out of the room and carefully opened and closed the door, cringing at the slightest sound he made and hoping it wouldn’t wake anyone else up. 

Instantly the cool night air began to calm his nerves. He stood still, just outside the door for a minute. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe… 

He pulled his hands to his face and stood like that, taking deep, calming breaths. It helped a little, but not much. 

He turned to walk onto the grassy deck, lay down and look at the stars. Maybe he could get better sleep out here. It couldn’t hurt to try anyway. 

---

Once on deck, it appeared he was alone and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Usopp walked over to the railing and stared out at the sea, just thinking, trying to calm himself down. It was so quiet, the only sound coming from water hitting the side of the ship and the gentle breeze that rocked it back and forth. 

He heard footsteps approach from behind and jumped a little as someone stepped up beside him.

“Relax, it’s just me.” 

Usopp looked over and saw it was Sanji, who was putting a cigarette to his lips and pulling out a lighter. Usopp wondered how Sanji could smoke like he did but not fall into a coughing mess all the time, but he shoved the thought aside, saying he would ask about it later. 

“What are you doing out here so late?” Usopp asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Something like that,” Sanji said, moving to put his shaky hand on the railing, using the other one to take a drag of the cigarette. 

“Me too, if I’m being honest.” 

They stood in silence for a moment, just letting the wind brush past them, leaving smoke trails from Sanji’s cigarette. 

“Hey, uh, can I ask you something?” Usopp said, breaking the silence. 

“Sure,” Sanji responded, taking another drag. 

“Do you get nightmares? Like of your past or anything?” 

Sanji put his hand with the cigarette on the railing, shocked at the question Usopp had asked him, unsure of how to answer. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I was just wondering is all. Y’know how it is ri—” 

“Yeah.” 

Usopp paused for a second at the answer. He had expected it in all truthfulness, but hearing the confirmation come from Sanji shocked him. He always seemed so put together, like nothing could make him lose his balance in life. 

“... How do you deal with them?” 

Sanji took another drag of the cigarette, knowing that his habit had developed as a response to both trauma and working with food. The nicotine helped calm the brain down when he was stressed over something and kept him from feeling hungry in the kitchen. 

“Cooking, I suppose.” That was the easier answer. 

“Could you maybe show me how to cook? I… 

“I... had a nightmare.” 

--- 

Sanji paused at Usopp’s confession. He had also suspected that Usopp hadn’t been sleeping well. He was more irritable in the morning than normal and seemed spaced out more often than not. But he wasn’t a doctor so he didn’t want to ask him directly, although he had told Chopper that he thought Usopp might not be getting enough sleep. Turns out he was right. 

Sanji pulled out a mini ashtray, stubbed out the rest of the cigarette in it, and put it away before answering. 

“Can’t hurt to try. Come on.” He said, turning and waving for Usopp to follow him. He, too, had been having nightmares recently and maybe cooking with someone else would help distract him enough to get a few more hours of sleep tonight. Just enough so he wouldn’t fall asleep standing at the stove again. 

--- 

They agreed on making a carrot cake, since that was Usopp’s favorite dessert and there was really no better way to help calm down than eating a little comfort food. 

He tried to recall the recipe his mom used when she had made the cake for him as a child, but he quickly realized that he could only remember small parts of it; helping shred the carrots and mix in the nuts and spices. 

Sanji took the information Usopp gave him and used his own knowledge of carrot cakes to make the batter. Sanji would mix the dry ingredients together and Usopp the wet ingredients. They both shredded carrots and portioned out the various nuts and mixed them all together with the rest of the batter and poured it into a cake pan. 

Once the cake was in the oven, Sanji began to work on a cream cheese frosting while Usopp worked on cleaning the dishes. He would rather do them now than after they had already decorated and eaten the cake he said. 

Sanji pulled the cake out of the oven and gently took it out of the pan and onto a wire cooling rack. Usopp took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the carrot cake fresh from the oven. He felt like a kid again in Syrup village running around the kitchen while his mom made dinner. It was a nice feeling. 

Sanji and Usopp both sat down, wanting to take a little bit of rest while the cake was cooling enough to frost it. Usopp closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling a little more relaxed than he had earlier, and let his mind wander to his mom, the Usopp Pirates he left behind, his home. 

And they stayed like that, in peaceful silence, for a minute. 

Sanji took a drag of another cigarette now that the cake was baked and cooling, letting the nicotine calm his senses again. He really needed that, joking with Usopp in the dead of night while they made a cake together, allowing him to forget why he woke up in the first place. It felt nice, he thought. 

“Feeling better Usopp?” he said. 

“Yeah, a bit. Thanks.” 

--- 

Sanji put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and stood up again. 

“We should frost the cake and see if we can catch a few more hours of sleep.” He said, already moving towards the bowl of cream cheese frosting he had made. 

“Oh, yeah.” Usopp responded, feeling a little disappointed that the moment was over so soon. He could stay like that, just him and Sanji in the soft glow of the kitchen for hours. Maybe they should do that more often. 

He also stood up, moving to the fridge to see if there was anything he could maybe use to decorate the cake with. 

Meat, milk, meat, cheese, more meat, some fresh fruits and vegetables, carrots maybe? No, that’s just too much carrot. Hmm… 

He scanned through the shelves when something bright purple caught his eye and he pulled it out. They looked like flowers, but why were they in the fridge? 

“Hey Sanji, what are these?” He said, holding the bag of purple and white flowers up for him to see. 

“Hmm? Oh, those. Just some edible flowers I picked up at the last island. Thought they might bring a bit of color for desserts. Did you want to try them with the cake?” 

Usopp’s eyes lit up at that. He had tried a few flowers while he was at Greenstone, including some that looked similar to the ones in the bag. Orchids, he thought they were. 

“Yeah!” 

He placed the flowers in a circle on top of the cake, carefully trying to space them evenly so everyone would get to try one. He pulled out one more after all the ones he wanted were placed on the cake and plucked a petal off it. 

“Do you want to try it together?” Usopp asked, holding out the rest of the flower to Sanji. 

Sanji nodded and took the flower from Usopp’s hand and plucked out another petal. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight and it really helped calm me down. Thanks, for real,” Usopp said, holding his petal up. “Cheers?” 

Sanji chuckled a bit at the gesture but raised his own petal nonetheless. “Cheers.” 

---

“Not as much flavor as I was hoping for,” Usopp said, swallowing the petal. 

“Most flowers don’t have much of a taste, they are garnishes after all.”

Bonus gift: A playlist I decided to make last week on impulse after hearing one whole song that I thought fit Sanji and Usopp 

[ohtheseboysilove]

The sunflower always finds its sunlight V [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 3, 300 K +

Warnings : language, alcohol,, angst, eating disorders, drugs

Summary :  Roger likes Reader since forever but the timing seems to just never be right for them. Reader is still haunted by her past relationship and kept rejecting Roger who know nothing about the abuses she had been victim of. After being rejected for the sixth time,  Roger thinks it’s time for him to move on…

🌼Requests are open🌼☀ Masterlist ☀

“You’re doing real great progress (Y/N), I will see you next week” You smiled timidly at your psychologist, shaking her hand before making your way out the room.

You sighed deeply when the loud wind blew in your hairs, helping you breathed easier. It had been a month since you stared your therapy to talk about the abuses you had been victim of and it was slowly but surely helping you. You only had four sessions so far, you were still being a bit shy about telling your deepest and darkest secrets to a total stranger – well, she weren’t anymore but still – but you couldn’t deny it was a real relief to have someone to speak and who wasn’t judging you.

A delicious smell was floating into your flat when you pushed the door open, noises and humming coming from the kitchen. Freddie, probably. He had an emergency keys and since he found out you were struggling again with your eating disorders, he spent most of dinner time with you, making sure you ate a minimum. If he is busy he would call you to check on you. You found that a bit annoying at the beginning, feeling like a child constantly watched but after a week or so, you were grateful, having someone who cared so much about your health, it was so nice, helping you to get better for sure.

“Honey, I’m home” You shouted with amusement as you dropped your bag and coat on a chair, kicking off your shoes and slipping into a comfy hoodie. You made your way to the kitchen to find Freddie wearing your apron, a big cooking-pot fuming on the baking tray. “Its smell heavenly Fred, what is it ?”

“Oh, hello my little sunflower ! I went to mom’s today and she was scared I would die of starvation without her home-cooking meals, so here” He pointed to the plate of curry rice on the counter.

You winced at the nickname sunflower, you had been called that since you were a kid due to your contagious and inexhaustible happy mood and its stick even during your teenagers years and then adult life. You were a little sunflower, always turned toward the sun to see the bright side of everything. But that was before. You lost this joy about half of your relationship with Donovan, mostly because of him, crushing every bit of happiness you could have left in your body. Around the same time, you lost your paternal grandmother so everyone assumed you were sad and hurt because of that and you didn’t contradict them, hiding the consequence of Donovan’s abuses on you. The truth was that you barely knew your grandmother but it had been the perfect cover. After that, you asked your friends to stop calling you like this, it wasn’t right anymore, it just sounded dumb.

“Don’t call me Sunflower Freddie, it’s not me anymore” You murmured as you took from the cupboard two clean plates.

“Nonsense, darling. I know you’re going through some tough times since few years but inside, your still our little sunflower (Y/N), you will be alright. I believe in you” He pinched your cheeks and chuckled when you thanked him, maybe a tear or two shinning into your eyes. “Dinner is ready ! And I’m fucking starving” He poured the hot vegetables on the rice as you grabbed the spicy chicken, taking everything on the living-room table.

“Bon appétit” You both giggled like kids at your dumb french accent and you dipped enthusiastically into your plate, letting the sweet and sour food melted into your mouth. “It’s so good Fred, you need to thank your mom for me”

“Indian food is the best comfort food, ever” He winked at you and stole some glances at your food, checking you were eating correctly. You were both chatting happily, telling about each other day like an old couple and it felt good to have someone around, loneliness weren’t your cup of tea anymore so you were definitively glad for a such good friend. “By the way, we’re going out tomorrow night”

“By we, you mean…?”

“You, Paul, Rog, Nina, Brian, Chrissie, and yes, even John and Veronica are in, amazing right ? Our little Ronny said she didn’t have a night of fun since the baby Deacon is born so it’s going to be fuuuuun” He pushed the empty plate in front of him and you did the same, only a quarter of the food was still inside, making Freddie hummed contently.

“Do I have any choice ?” He shook negatively his head and you sighed. “I guessed I need to find an outfit then, any suggestion ?”

You and Freddie spent the rest of the evening making a splendid mess in your closet, looking for the perfect outfit. You opted for a nice pair of stripped wide-leg trousers with a knotted flowery top with loose sleeves. The outfit was cute and hiding your too-thin-for-your-taste arms and also your ribs still visible from your drastic lost of weight from the past months, you were clearly doing better but you were still not comfortable enough to put tight and short clothes. But it was a beginning.

**

You clenched the black jeans jacket tighter around you as the fresh wind tickled your neck, the sun slowly starting his descent in the cloudless London’ sky. You were supposed to meet your friends in a new pub in Camden Town, you were rather excited, it had been a while since you all get out like in the good old days. You pushed the door opened and you were immediately greeted by the familiar smell of the cold cigarette and greasy foods. Pub life.

“Hi everyone !” You threw your jacket on an empty chair and sat without any grace, sighing with relief at the warmer temperature than outside.

“Ah my little sunflower is finally here ! We didn’t wait for you, we were starving !” Freddie exclaimed before biting eagerly into his burger. “But I ordered you a beer, unfortunately you took to much to time so I had to drink it before its getting warm” He shrugged and you chucked softly, looking the menu, your mouth drooling over all the foods on the table.

“Oh, we’re allow again to call you sunflower now ?” You curled a crooked smile to Roger and stole a salty chips from his plate.

“He didn’t ask my opinion about it” You stated and quickly looked back at the menu, still a bit weird to have an eye contact with the drummer.

The day you almost confessed your feelings to him was a month ago and both of you acted like nothing happened. Nina was still in the picture, siting cosily next to Roger. The blond had feel horribly guilty after your little conversation, he had act like no one was already in his life, begging you to confess your feelings, completely disrespecting Nina, he promised to himself that won’t happen again. She was his girlfriend and he would act like a good boyfriend, pushing aside his feelings for you, he couldn’t wait forever for you.

“We need to choose wich club we going after” Veronica wiggled her eyebrows with excitement as her husband rolled his eyes, not seeming really into going out after dinner. “I heard the one you in Soho is really cool, it’s rock music and it look great”

“What about the gay club near Leicester square ?” Brian scoffed at Freddie’ suggestion, his cheeks flushing lightly.

“I don’t go in gay club anymore, it’s...too wild for me” He murmured as Chrissie cooed at his intense blushing.

“Ah poor Bri ! You still didn’t forget this crazy evening ? You need to take this stick out of your ass my darling” Everyone giggled as you all remembered the last time you were at a gay club and Brian had been awfully popular, men sticking around him like flies. He had been adorably cute, gently pushing away every man with a nervous smile when some hands were a bit too adventurous. Roger, the usually most popular – after Freddie, of course – was jealous but never stopped teasing his friend about it.

You left the table few minutes to order a plate of sweet potatoes chips and a fresh beer before sitting back, the discussion of the club was finish, Veronica had win. You took a sip of your drink and thanked the waiter when he brought your meal, your fingers immediately dipping into the chips.

“Hey (Y/N), I saw you yesterday !” You plunged your greasy chip into the ketchup and shoved it into your mouth, an eyebrow curiously lifted. “I was just leaving my yoga class in Hammersmith and you were just entering this psychologist Cabinet at the corner of the main street, I was surprise, didn’t know you were seeing a psy” Nina commented before sipping her coke through a straw.

You almost chocked onto your chip, blush creeping on your face. You looked at her with round eyes, not understanding why she thought sharing this information with everyone was a good idea. It was private and personal and no one knew before now.

“You’re seeing a psychologist ?” Roger asked incredulously, his spoonful of cheesecake hanging in the air.

Every pair of eyes were on you, an awkward silence suffocating the table. You swallowed your food and babbled some lame excuse : “Hum, yeah...I’m...I needed to talk about some hum issues to someone, so yeah”

“About what ? What is going on ? Are you okay ?” You knew Roger was just acting as a worry friend but it was fucking private.

“Roger, I don’t think (Y/N) want to expose to everyone her personal reasons, just drop it” The soft but firm voice of Deaky delivered you from these three longest minutes of your life.

You nodded timidly and flashed to the bassist a grateful smile before bowing down your head into your plate, chewing absent-mindedly a chip. You could feel Roger’s gaze on you, he hated secrets, especially between the two of you and how close you were. If only he knew all the things your hid from him for years…

 **

You were slightly tipsy from the beers you had and you were sipping your second fruity, sweet cocktail which Chrissie placed in your hand ten minutes ago as she went on the dance-floor, Veronica by her side. The proximity of all these bodies wasn’t your favourite thing, in fact it was making you rather uncomfortable, that why you were sitting in a booth next to Deaky and Brian, both of them looking at their wives with amusement.

You felt so awkward, your spine shivering every time you made an eye contact with a man, quickly focusing back on your sparkly drink. God it was going to be a long night.

But thanks to the alcohol, after few more drinks and several shots with the girls, you were feeling absolutely free, dancing like you were the only person in the room. And you kept drinking, dancing, drinking, dancing until your stomach started churning. You stumbled to the toilet and splashed fresh water on your sweaty face, shutting your eyes close.

“You’re okay hon ?” Nina gently asked as she was bended against the counter, her hands making a straight line of coke with her credit card.

“m feeling sick” You slurred as she sniffed the drug with an old note rolled like a straw, throwing her head back in pleasure. You looked at her as she wiped the rest of the white powder off her nose and blinked several times, shaking energetically her hands.

“Too much drinking hum ? I’m not very good at holding my liquor so...” She motioned to the little bag of coke with a grin. Her pupils were already starting to flare as the drug hit her system. “Want some, hon ? Already done coke before, right ?” She asked with a lifted brow.

No. You never did cocaine. You had try few little pills which had make you all giddy and excited but you never went into hard drugs.

“Roger didn’t want to do some tonight, don’t why, he had been weird all night” She added with a complaining tone as she took out her red lipstick from her hand bag, sliding it onto her puckered lips. “The other night he took a line directly from between my breasts and god I swear it was the hottest thing a man ever did to me and after that–“

“I want a line, yes !” You said a bit more louder than you should have but Nina didn’t even notice, too busy giggling excitedly. Why you said yes to the girl ? Maybe because you wanted her to shut up. Or maybe because you thought Roger would find you more interesting if you take hard drugs like a rock star. Completely stupid but when Nina started straightening the line, you didn’t stop her. You were also a bit curious to see how you were going to react to the famous white powder. And the thought of forgetting about yours problems for few hours was really appealing too.

“Here, hon” She smiled sweetly at you and handed you the rolled note. “You can finish, I’m going to dance, too much energy now !” She shook her head with excitement and left you alone.

You nervously grabbed the note and placed it in your nostril before sniffing the drug with a trembling hand. The effect was practically immediate as you scrunched your nose, your eyelashes batting furiously.

“Wow” You murmured as you looked at yourself into the mirror, feeling like someone just injected you a litre of coffee directly into your veins.

You felt electricity ran through your body and you quickly exited the bathroom, walking or rather bouncing, straight to Veronica and Chrissie.

“(Y/N) ! It’s good to see you having fun !” Veronica yelled to cover the insanely loud music.

“I never felt so happy than before !” You yelled back as you swayed your hips outrageously, completely inhibited to the peoples around, the only thing that was mattering was the jolt of energy flying through your system. You were on the top of the world. “This is awesome !” You shouted as you started jumping around before bumping into a man who catch you before you ridiculously fell on the floor. “I’m so sorry” You giggled against his chest, as he shook his head with a hungry smile. Usually the type of man who disgust you but right now, you were just thrilled to have someone to share you overwhelming bolt of energy.

“No problem, doll. Wanna dance ?” He swung you around, hands falling around your waist and bringing you close to him. You closed your eyes and let the music directing your moves, grinding against the brunette. “So pretty, doll. So hot, god, I want you so badly” You smiled wider when his lips started trailing kisses on the delicate skin of your neck, teeth nibbling filthy into your lob ear, making you giggle even more.

Everything felt so good, all your problems were out of your mind and at this precise moment nothing could stop you. Well, except the upset Roger who was making his way to you, the muscles of his jaw twitching under the anger crushing him at this moment. Chrissie was next to him, pointed you with a finger, her face painted with worry.

“Roggie !” You gushed when he reached you, his hand immediately tugging you into his embrace. “I’m having so much fun tonight ! I even make a new friend !” You babbled excitedly, looking at the other man with wide and excited eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing (Y/N) ? You completely drunk, come on” The drummer grabbed your hand and the brunette you were dancing with, tried to interfere but as soon as he saw Roger’s death glare, he walked away. Smart guy.

“Hey! I was dancing with this block !” You weakly protested, the negative vibes emanating from your friend was making you frown. Why he wasn’t having fun like you ? “Rog, I want to dance” You tried to escape his grip but he didn’t budge, kept dragging you behind him like a rag doll. He brought you on the terrace of the club, the wind making you shivered surprisingly. It helped you cool down a bit but your whole body was still animated by an inexhaustible energy, your eyes couldn’t focus on one thing.

“What the fuck did you drink (Y/N) ? I didn’t saw you that drunk since, at least, two years” He took a big drag on his cigarette, looking at you with his big eyes but your gaze were on his sparkly, pink shoes, stupid giggles escaping your lips. The drummer sighed annoyingly at your state and grabbed your face, his fingers holding loosely your chin. “Why did you drink so much ? Is this because of the same reason you’re seeing a psycho–“ He knitted his brows together and took a closer look at your dilated pupils and breathed angrily : “You’re bloody high ?”

“So what ?” You teased with a grin, bopping his nose with your shaky finger. “m’ having fun. Coke is fun” You whispered with toothy smile.

“You took coke ? Are you insane ?” Roger’s eyes widened at your revelation but his upset tone made you take a step back, lips curling down in a grimace. “Why the hell did you take cocaine ? I told you to never touch that shit !”

“Are you mad at me ?” You murmured weakly as the high of energy was quickly going down. Suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore, you felt too nervous and your breathing was...weird, your body trembling as you were experienced the bad side of taking drug.

“Of course I fucking mad at you (Y/N) ! You can’t just tell drug and no tell anyone, it’s dangerous !”

“So you can have fun and take drugs with Nina but when it’s about me, you’re angry with me ? You can sniffed coke from her fucking breasts and have mind-blowing sex but as soon as I start having fun, you stop me and yelled at me !” You burbled with difficulties as your lips felt incredibly heavy to move, anger and sadness mixing together as Roger pinched his lips. “Fuck you Roger”

The blond’s gaze softened at your words, that wasn’t the reaction you were excepting but at this point, nothing really mattered anymore, you just wanted to go home and stopped fucking blinking your eyelashes like a crazy.

“I’m trying to look after you (Y/N), always” He murmured with a tired smile but the picture of him and Nina, tangled between the bed sheet was making you panting, the descent you were living was quite awful and you weren’t feeling good at all. “Where are you going ?” He watched you walked away, your arms clenching on your hand bag as you were going home, your brain completely disconnected from the reality.

“It’s not your job to look after me, I’m a big girl” The blond stretched a hand and grabbed your arm but you swatted his frame away from you, stubbornly refusing his help. “Go back to Nina Roger, she’s your girlfriend, not me. You should take care of her instead, I don’t need you” You spat and you immediately felt your heart ached at Roger’s broken features, looking more hurt than upset by yours words.

“You’re the one who didn’t want me (Y/N), don’t try to turn me into the bad guy in this story” He replied as exhaustion and sadness washed over his face.

You didn’t replied and continued your way on the pavement, walking without any idea where you were heading to but you needed to get away from him. His last sentence was played on a loop in your mind, eyes watering at the thought that he was right. You rejected him, so many time and still, he was here for you even after all you did to him. You were stupid and a perfect asshole but right now, the shame and pride weren’t simply not allowing you to turn around and go apologise to him.

You didn’t need him, right ?

**

tag list : @amy-brooklyn99 @mercurycrowley @vanitysfairr @loveandbeloved29 @luvborhap @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @geek-and-proud @fearless2tobeme @chlobo6 @stormtrprinstilettos @mrsmazzello @neckfruit@khaleesi2017 @rogertaylorscar @jennyggggrrr

[dazeyrains2]

DECEPTION - A Multi Chapter, Hayffie fic - Prompt...POISON

Thanks @ellanainthetardis for the prompt.

....

DECEPTION PT1

....

Pt1 of Deception

Today was Thursday and Thursday's were quickly becoming Effies favourite day of the whole week in district 13.

Thursday's were when Coin held their weekly update meetings about Katniss and the war.

And Thurdays was also a day when they were allowed coffee!.

Astriss arrived a little later than usual with a full tray of steaming hot mugs and Effie couldn't stop the beam spreading across her face.

Whatever Coin was babbling on about did not matter to Effie for the next 10 minutes, because she would be holding a steaming mug of coffee between her hands and smelling the bitter sweet aroma of the black liquid and nothing was going to stop her from enjoying it.

"Thank you Astriss, you may serve" Coin six passively, waving at the girl with the tray.

Astriss was also quickly becoming Effies new favourite person.

Haymitch reached for a mug but Astriss batted his hand away...

"Not that one, that's for miss Trinket" The girl looked at Effie and winked "Double shot, just how you like it"

Coin cringed at the delightful squeal that came out of Effies throat.

"Oh Astriss, you are a pet!"

Haymitch grumbled something irrelevant and just took another mug.

"How come she gets two shots" he tutted and Effie jutted her bottom lip out towards him sarcastically

"Because Miss Trinket asked. And besides...she gives good makeup tips...tit for tat" she winked again

"Enough, Astriss" Coin begged "That will be all"

The girl left with a grin and a wave from Effie.

"Oh she's delightful" Effie trilled

Haymitch sipped his coffee and it tasted weak."Yeah, sure. Delightful indeed"

...

That evening in the cafeteria, Effie invited Astriss to join her and Katniss at their table for dinner.

"I don't think the woman dishing out this slop likes me very much" Effie grumbled over her tray of soggy vegetables and questionable meat. Katniss and Astriss peered over towards the serving station.

Effie had a point. If looks could kill. The woman behind the counter was throwing daggers at Effie almost too obviously.

"Has anything happened between you?" Katniss asked, knowing full well that Effie possibly brought it on herself, complaining about the food or something, but Effie shook her head.

"I know what you're thinking Katniss, but I've done nothing to offend that woman, just merely exist it seems"

Astriss lay her hand over Effies

"Hey, some of the people down here just haven't been able to accept the Captiol refugees yet" she sympathised "But if they want to live bitterly, then let them. You're a kind and generous person, Effie. They'll come to know it soon enough"

Effie smiled bright but her smile soon faded when she noticed the difference on her plate as to what was on Katniss's and Astriss's

"Look at that" Effie huffed, picking up a rather unusual looking slice of the rabbit meat that was on her plate. "Pure fat! And those vegetables look like they were drowned twice over..."

"Maybe she's just having a bad day and wants someone to take it out on?" Katniss suggested, but Effie wasn't bought.

"No, Katniss." Effie disagreed tiresomely "She's been treating me this way since I arrived here. Always taking my plate out of my hands and wandering off, only to return with what can only be described as leftovers fit for a mutt. I put up with it because I'm hungry, but heaven knows where shes getting my food from or what shes doing to it"

Astriss grabbed Effies plate suddenly and slid it towards herself "You're right Effie, this is disgusting and this is uncalled for, leave it with me"

Before Effie or Katniss could protest, Astriss was up and marching over to the counter to confront the woman.

The ladies couldn't hear what was said, but Astriss looked stern and the woman looked sheepish.

In less than a few more seconds Astriss had returned with a brand new plate full of healthy looking meat and fresh vegetables

"She won't be bothering you again Effie" Astriss beamed brightly "Not whilst I'm around"

Fair to say, Effie had just found her new best friend.

....

At dinner the next evening, the woman behind the counter barely made eye contact with Effie but Effies plate was returned to her bursting with fresh vegetables and dumplings.

On returning to her table, Effie couldn't help but feel suspicious.

"Saved you ladies some nice hot coffee!" Astriss smiled, sliding Effie and Katniss a cup each.

"Thanks Astriss" Katniss grinned but Effie was distracted by her thoughts

"She's smirking at me" Effie said, peering over her shoulder at the woman still serving the food.

"Effie, she's just smiling" Katniss assured "Maybe she's trying to make amends"

"What exactly did you say to her Astriss" Effie asked curiously

"I told her that if it wasn't for you slipping those golden tokens into the arena, then there never would have been an alliance with Finnick Odair, and Katniss and Peeta may not have trusted him and possibly not survived." Astriss stated proudly "I told her that the real hero here was you, no offence Katniss, and that she better start showing you some respect or I'd notify Coin of her behaviour"

Katniss and Effie shared a look but then Effie was beaming...

Astriss kind of reminded Effie of Katniss in some ways. Fearless, honest, brave and loyal.

"You're a good person Astriss" Effie smiled

Katniss agreed "Yeah, good job you're here"

...

Later that evening, just before she settled down to bed, Effie felt a whirring in her stomach and the room felt particularly warm that night.

She downed a glass of water, took off all of her clothes and crawled into bed, hoping the feeling would shift by morning.

The next morning, she felt no better but Coin had called an early 2nd meeting to discuss an urgent propo for Katniss, but Effie wasnt happy about it because it was still too soon, the girl wasn't ready. So, Effie had to be sharp and focused today and stand her ground.

She arrived late after spending the first part of the morning with her head over the toilet, but her excuses fell flat. Coin didn't strike anyone as a sympathetic soul.

"If you're under the weather, Miss Trinket, I suggest you sit this meeting out?" Coin challenged, but Effie was having none of it.

"No, no. I'm quite alright...go ahead"

But as Coin proceeded, Haymitch leant a little closer in to Effie and gave her a nudge.

"You sure you're ok?, I can fill you in later, you look a little pale?"

"That damn food server in the canteen" she seethed quietly "She's fed me rotten meat again, I just know it"

"Food poisoning?"

"I think so" Effie nodded "But I got the worst out this morning"

Haymitch turned his nose up at the thought.

"Vomiting, Haymitch" She assured "Not the other way yet...although, not too far off" The face he pulled as she rubbed her stomach was totally worth it. She chuckled at his reaction and told him she was kidding... but she wasnt kidding. Her insides felt alien.

"Just...drink plenty of water, ok" he suggested and Effie smirked curiously. Haymitch had never been one to care before... Ever!

"Ok" she nodded, and poured herself a glass.

As the meeting went on, the temperature in the room seemed to sky rocket. Effie could feel beads of perspiration running down the back of her neck.

"Look, just a few more weeks" Effie tried to argue "let's get her comfortable with that damn camera first, if you throw her in now, it'll be a disaster"

Haymitch had agreed with her, thankfully, but between the two of them and Coin and Plutarch, it was still two agaisnt two.

Plutarch tried to reason...

"Well, let's film rehearsal? She doesn't need to know the cameras are rolling, we might capture something good?"

"And if she figures it out-" Haymtich began until Effie interrupted

"Which she will! She will lose more trust in you than ever..." The room suddenly started spinning but Effie couldn't bow out now. "Look, just give her time"

"WE DONT HAVE TIME, TRINKET" Coin bellowed suddenly it was like a hammer had been smashed into Effies skull.

"Ouch! Why are you yelling!?"

Conversation erupted around the table but the voices seemed to become raised causing Effie to cover her ears.

Everything sounded weird and everyone seemed to be yelling now.

She pleaded one more time "Please stop yelling"

Confused eyes crossed the table to where she sat

"Stop moving, why are you all moving..." effie continued, trying to focus. The room felt like it was spinning

Haymitch reached out towards her, grabbing her wrist

"Effie, we're all sat down...no ones moving, no ones yelling...What's going on with you?"

Effie put her head in her hands for a moment, but as she tried to focus again, Haymitch noticed the blood

"Jesus ef! Your nose!"

Effie looked into her hands and saw a pool of sticky red liquid, she pressed her fingers above her upper lip and felt the blood running from her nose.

"Get her a tissue!" Coin ordered. Plutarch grabbed a box on the side and ran around the table to join Haymitch.

Hands were holding her arms for comfort but she didn't know who's they were as the room began to spin even more.

"I need to stand" she whimpered but Haymtich strongly protested

"I need to get out, it's too hot in here..." she begged

Her speech was slurred, Haymitch ordered one of the guards to fetch a doctor.

"Ok, let's get you up" He soothed "I'll walk out with you" But as Haymitch lifted her to her feet, Effies knees buckled immediately and she fell into his arms.

"Miss Trinket? What's happening?" Coin asked, looking to Haymitch for answers but he was just as clueless.

She was becoming a dead weight so Haymitch lay Effie down gently on the floor instead and whipped his sweater off to create a pillow for her head. That's when she started coughing.

"Turn her on her side!" Coin suggested

But as he did, her throat gargled painfully and she began to cough up blood. Not just a little...a lot...a whole lot. It started pouring out of her mouth.

"Effie!? Effie?!" Haymitch panicked now. He saw her eyes starting to roll into the back of her head "Stay with me, Ef. Come on, Breathe in! Breathe!"

Haymitch didn't know what to do or what to say, all he knew was that this doctor better hurry because this was no food poisoning or stomach bug, this was something else. Somthing far more sinister.

To be continued...

*what's going on with Effie!?? Will she be ok??? Find out soon... xx

[readbeneaththelines]

Giving Him Control Pt. 8

A/N: This is basically a filler chapter, so no real warnings here

Characters: Ravi x Reader

Warnings: soft Ravi?, maybe fluff? 

Word Count: 1511

Please remember, this is NSFW. There is the Dom/Sub aspect of the characters, so if that is a trigger, please proceed at your own discretion.

cr to gif owner

Turning the shower off, he grabbed a towel, wrapping your tired body in softness. Wrapping one at his hips, he swept you up in his arms and carried you to the bed. Taking care to set you down gently, he dried you off. Taking the lotion you had left on the nightstand earlier, he soothed the still pink flesh from the strap. You melted with his tender hands massaging you sore spots. 

Well lotioned and fully relaxed, you were tucked into bed. Once you were settled and all snuggled up, he turned out the light and left the room. Too sleepy to notice, you drifted off. 

Ravi went to his study, sitting down in the leather desk chair. Images of your face when he held you by the throat. The fear in your eyes, the anger raging through his veins. He ran fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots.

“I warned her. She knew the danger that could come with that.”he began to argue with himself.

“But I am supposed to protect her and not hurt her. She was just trying to keep me safe.”, The back and forth continued internally. Finally deciding that it was better to leave things alone, he headed back to bed.

He padded quietly across the floor, being careful not to wake you. Pulling the covers back, he scooted his body under, sliding behind you. A soft sigh passed from your lips, your body automatically turning into his. Even in sleep, you were aware not to touch. Instead of resting your hand on his waist or chest, you tucked it up under your chin, only your head laying on his shoulder. He breathed out, relaxing as he settled with you under the covers, closing his eyes to sleep. 

Bright sunlight wafted through the window, muted only by the thin sheer curtains. You groaned against the intrusion of your slumber, rolling your head to the opposite side. Squinting your eyes open, you saw that Ravi was still sound asleep.

“Lucky dog.”, you groaned, sitting up.

After using the bathroom, you looked in the mirror. Your hair was in knots, since you didn’t brush it after the shower. Your shoulder had a bite mark, the same shape as Ravi’s mouth and teeth. You blushed at the memory of him biting you, your core immediately reacting with a twitch. Then your eyes fell on your neck. Four small bruises on one side and a larger single bruise on the other. His fingerprint bruises, from yesterday. You ran your own fingers over the marks, noticing they were not sore. You bruised easily, always had, even as a child. There were always a number of various colored bruises covering your legs growing up. The joys of being a tomboy with three brothers.

After looking the rest of your body over, you headed back into the bedroom. He was still sound asleep, light snoring softened by the pillow under his head. You grabbed your robe from the chair, wrapping it snug around you. You had decided to fix him breakfast, when you remembered the rules.

Do not leave the bed, only to go to the bathroom, unless I say so.

Instead of getting back in bed, you walked to his side of the bed, bending down to whisper in his ear.

“I am going to make you breakfast, I will be back shortly.”, you told him quietly.

Standing back up, you turned for the door, walking quietly out to the kitchen. You gathers fruit, eggs, vegetables, and some meat from the fridge. You settled on making an omelette and cutting some fruit . You had started the coffee and was in the process of squeezing fresh juice when you heard a throat clearing.

“I thought I told you that you were not to leave the bed.”, a still sleepy voice scratched out.

“Except to go to the bathroom, I know. But I also told you what i was doing, fixing you breakfast, and then heading back up to give it to you. You didn’t say no, so then inadvertently that’s a yes.”, you smiled over at him, your sass thick this morning.

“You really do like to press your luck, don’t you miss? You had better be thankful that I am still sleepy and don’t feel like arguing about it right now.”

Even though he was trying to sound angry, you noticed the tug of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He looked down quickly, stifling a laugh. You just giggled in return, pouring him a hot mug of coffee. He sat on a stool, head resting on his hand. You handed him the mug, planting a quick kiss to his cheek before he had time to react. You went to finish breakfast, both of you talking about insignificant things. He told you he had to take care of some work today, so he would be out most of the afternoon. He had a business dinner that night, he told you that, of course, you were going, and he would pick out your evening wear before he left. You asked if he was okay with you meeting up with Haeri for lunch, he said it was fine, but to be back in time to get ready.

Bringing the plates over, you sat them down on the counter. When you went to pull the apron off, you hair that had been brushed over your shoulders sufficiently to hide the bruises, pulled up. He grabbed your arm, pulling you to stand in front of him. He took your face in his hand, lifting it up and over to the side. He had seen them, and he was not happy.

“Are those my prints, Y/N.”, his voice cracking.

“Ravi, forget about it, I have.” you were still a bad liar, but you tried.

“I will not forget about it! Dammit Y/N, I left marks on you, by my own hands, and that..”

He was cut short by you kissing him, effectively shutting him up. You didn’t want him to feel angry about it. You needed to explain your easy bruising to him. He took hold of your shoulders, pushing you back.

“Now, will you please be quiet and let me speak?’, you asked nervously.

When he didn’t respond, you continued. You told him about you being an easy bruiser as a child and growing up, even to the point your parents were questioned about abuse. You had tests ran, only to discover that you lacked certain clotting factors, causing you to bruise at even the slightest bump. You tried to assure him that they didn’t hurt and you would be able to hide them with makeup and your hair. He just stared at you, listening to your story.

“So, did I bruise you… in other places? During the shower?” he looked down at your robe.

Taking the belt in his hand, he untied it, letting the robe fall open. As he had guessed, there were bruises on your thighs, hips and bottom. Then he spotted the teeth marks on your shoulder. Your body was peppered with different shapes and sizes of bruises. You grabbed his cheeks, making him look you in the eyes.

“I am not bothered by a single one of these. Each one was made by giving and receiving pleasure. I will look at these and recall how we made each other feel. Do not be mad at yourself. Don’t be mad at me either.”

“Why-Why would I be mad at you?”, he was thoroughly confused.

“Because I didn’t tell you about me bruising. I honestly didn’t even think about it. Also, the fact that I have broken two of your rules in as many days.”

Dropping your hands, you waited for him to speak. When he began drinking his coffee, you sat beside him and began eating breakfast. He took a few bites, mainly spreading his food across the plate.

“Is it not good?”

“No, no it’s delicious, thank you. I just have a few things on my mind, about what you said.”, he peeked at you from the side of his eyes. 

“Oh, okay. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Well, actually, you haven’t technically broken any rules, as far as our agreement goes. We haven’t signed the contract yet, so actually you are off the hook, for now.”

“The contract? Oh, where we list our rules for each other and the roles for each of us in this agreement.”, you peered down at your plate, no longer hungry.

“Can we take care of that this morning then? I don’t want to have something happen where we don’t know if it would fall under any rules or not. I want to have it all laid out so we can be sure of everything.”, you ventured a look at him, his eyes focused on your neck still.

“Umm, yeah, let’s finish eating then head to the study.”

“I’m done and you aren’t very hungry, might as well get it done and put down in ink.”

@aspaceformyself @trapped-inside-my-head @beautifulseoulliar @maxinaptak @seoulsunshineandstories @xjamlessparkx @sugababemyg @kpop-addictedloser  @min-shookga-yoongi @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi@trashkazuya @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570  @kwonnansi

[witch-chester]

Where Mischief Lies Pt. 2

Seeing the black impala almost brought tears back to Mariah’s eyes. She had been waiting outside her motel room since Dean had sent her a five minute away text and she all but launched herself into his arms the moment he got out of the car. It really should have bothered her how much comfort she got from this man she barely knew, but the feeling of his hands stroking her hair and rubbing her back eased away the tension in her body.

Dean let her go, touching her face briefly with a few words of comfort before she greeted his brother. hey all went into the room and Mariah curled up at the head of her bed while the boys looked around. Dean saw the map and blood covered pendulum laying on the floor. “What’s this?” A silver knife was close to it so he picked it up. It too still had fresh blood on it.

“Oh,” Mariah help up her badly bandaged hand. “I did that. Spell to help find her.” She tucked the bloody hand back under her arm. “Didn’t work.”

Dean cursed and walked over to her, pulling her hand so he could look at it. Numb to everything at that point, Mariah didn’t fight him. Sam was at her laptop looking through the same articles she hadn’t bothered closing. “You guys were hunting demons?” He asked.

“Not really. Just looking for cases close by. Just happened to be a whole lot of demonic,” she said without looking at him. Her attention was focused on Dean while he unwrapped her sorry attempt at helping herself. The cut across her palm wasn’t very deep but it had been difficult to wrap one handed.

“Was it a demon that attacked you?”

Mariah did look at Sam then. “We aren’t idiots. This room is warded against demons.”

Sam help up his hands. “Ok. Sorry. Just trying to help.”

Mariah sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I just feel on edge.” She looked back down at her hand. It was still bleeding and Dean gave up trying to fix her patch job and took the soiled gaze off all together.

Dean got up to get more first aid items. He didn’t like how pale Mariah was. She wasn’t as put together as she normally would be. Makeup faded. Hair down and messy. She was still a looker but he knew what it meant for her to be like this. He paused a minute, thinking hard about how he could possibly know her state of mind from just her face. Not wanting to think to much about what it could mean, he grabbed the bag Mariah must have pulled out to fix her hand the first time and went back to the bed.

He knelt back down and took her hand again, tugging it gently so she would turn to face him. She relented and let her legs fall on either side of him as he cleaned and rebandaged her hand. He noticed color on her legs. Tattoos of the planets and moon phases decorated with watercolor splashed around them were bright on the ivory skin of her thighs. Dean had noted vine like tattoos on her wrists that he didn’t remember but has written it off at being unobservant. But he knew he would remember ink on her legs.

Sam was back to asking her questions. He was trying to track Kit’s phone. Mariah was arguing that she had tried it. Something was blocking all forms of trace. Magical and technological. His odd knowledge of the witch’s feeling and moods aside, he knew his brother better. The two of them were bother getting frustrated with one another and Dean tried to diffuse the situation before it turned into something.

“You have tattoos,” Dean said off handily.

Marathon blinked. “What?”

“Tattoos. You didn’t have them before.”

Mariah raised an eyebrow. Dean was focused on her hand and his tone seem neutral. He was trying to distract her. She smiled just a little. “I did actually. I just used a spell to glamor them.”

“Why? It’s nice ink.”

“Tattoos are easier recognized than a face.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. He tied off the gaze. “There.” But he didn’t let go of her hand. Her fingers were like ice. “We will find her, Mariah. I promise.” His green eyes were warm and it made her smile for real. “Thank you.”

Dean stared at her a long minute then cleared his throat. “Any luck, Sammy?”

His brother shrugged. “No. I really don’t get this. Some guy with powers that you say can’t be a witch just pops in on two witches by accident?”

Mariah bit her lip. “It might not really be by accident. He was looking for us. Or rather, looking for Kit.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “You said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. But Kit might have.” She was playing with one of the several rings on her fingers, not meeting either of them in the eye.

“What’s going on Mariah?”

She sighed and said, “Last month at the auction, Kit kinda stole a necklace.”

“What!?”

She flinched at Dean’s shout. “She said it could be dangerous. It had Enochian symbols carved into it.”

Sam held up a hand. “Enochian? As in the language of angels.”

She nodded.

“Kit can read Enochian?”

Again, she nodded.

The brothers exchanged looks. Then Dean growled out, “Cas!”

Mariah stood up. “What’s wrong?”

Before they said a word. A man in a long khaki trench coat with dark hair and breath taking blue eyes was standing behind Dean.

“Yes Dean?”

Mariah reached for her gun but Dean help up a hand. “It ok. He’s a friend. Kinda. Cas, this is Mariah. Mariah, the angel Castiel.”

Mariah stared for a long minute, eyes shifting between all the men in the room. Then she burst into a fit of giggles, plopping back onto the bed. Cas looked confused. Sam looked nervous. Dean looked concerned. She might have finally cracked.

“Mariah, what’s so funny?”

Mariah tried to breathe and answer Dean. “Y’all are fucking with me right?”

“Mariah, this isn’t a joke.”

Her giggles stared to fade as she took in their faces. “He’s-he’s not really an angel.”

No one smiled. No one even moved.

“He can’t be an angel!” she shrieked.

“Why not?” asked Cas.

“You’re to pretty!”

“Mariah!” Dean put his hand on her shoulders. She looked like she was going to cry again. The events of the day seemed to be to much for her. “I’m getting you food.” Mariah was still staring wide eyed at Castiel. “Hey, let go grab some food.”

She blinked a few times then focused on him. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat. I saw the bag from earlier. You barely touched it and it’s cold by now. You can fill Cas in then I’m taking you to get something in your stomach.” Dean didn’t want her to get hysterical. Food was the best distraction.

Mariah stared at him. His green eyes were hard and she knew he wound or give up. Stressed and to drained to argue she just nodded.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The feel of silk moving against her skin as she moved was making Kit feel on edge. This was Mariah’s field. She couldn’t flirt and be coy. Dazzling strangers in fancy gowns and glittery jewelry. She much preferred using her magic or her fists. She wasn’t girly in the slightest. Kit peeked once again at one of the many mirrors that line the obnoxiously large dining room. Loki had also glamored or spelled or whatever he had done makeup onto her face. Her eyes were smokey and winged like a cat’s. Lips full and slicked a dark plum.

She took a deep breath and tried to suppress her anxiety. Moving the gold plated fork around the butter seasoned vegetables and perfectly cooked steak. Everything smelled delicious but the churning of her stomach made her afraid to take a single bite. The glass of bubbling champagne was completely out of the question.

“I said dinner in exchange for answers,” Loki breathed from across the table. “Not staring at you fidget and move a perfectly good porterhouse around.”

She glared at him. “Maybe being kidnapped ruined my appetite.”

He smiled. “You’re a guest, not a prisoner.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you knocked me out and brought me here against my will.”

He sighed heavily and set the flute of champagne down. “If I give you a few answers will you calm down? You look ready to crawl out of your skin.”

“Maybe. Let’s see.”

“Ok. Ask away.”

“What are you?”

He laughed. “Going for the kill are you?”

“Answer.”

“I told you. I’m Loki.”

She rolled her eyes. “So I’m just supposed to believe that you are the trickster god Loki?”

“You’re a witch and a hunter. Is you’re mind really that small.”

“Bitch!” Kit gripped the fork tightly in her fist.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?”

Kit dropped the fork and shoved herself back from the table. “Where are you going?” Loki called out after her.

“Fuck you and your answers.”

“Wait!” He was right next to her grabbing her arm. She turned, gripped the wrist that was holding her and rolled him over her hip. There should have been a loud thud of his body hitting the marble, but the room stayed silent.

“Well.” Kit turned and saw him leaning against the table. “That was fun.” He was smirking and once against sipping his champagne.

Rage boiled and quickly killed her anxiety. She wanted to punch him but the stupid look on his face told her he like making her angry. “Did you have a reason for bringing me here, or are you just playing with me?”

“Both.”

She really wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face. How did Mariah deal with these creeps.

“Take me back, I don’t care what this stupid necklace has to offer if it means I have to deal with you.” She started to pull the necklace over her head.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll stop. Just keep that on.”

“I don’t want it.”

He shrugged. “To bad. It’s yours now.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Sit down and I will actually give you answers. No more games.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Trickster’s honor.”

“That means bullshit.”

He winked at her. “Take it or leave it buttercup.”

“Stop with the stupid nicknames too. My name is Kit.”

He nodded. “Kit. Understood.”

Kit huffed and dropped back into her chair.

He didn’t sit. He leaned over the back of the high backed chairs and stared at his hands. Kit figured he was trying to figure out how to answer her questions without really answering. Years on the run and watching Mariah run dozens of cons, she knew that face. “I’ll ask a simpler question if who and what you are is so difficult.”

He looked up and smiled at her. “Go ahead. I promise to answer this one.”

Kit narrowed her eyes and thought hard for a minute. “What is the point of bringing me here? I was willing to give you back the necklace but you said no. If it’s no longer the reason then why?”

He tilted his head. “I told you. I am very intrigued by you.”

The twists and knots filled her stomach again. “But I don’t understand why. Explain what so intriguing about me.”

“We might not have time. I told your friend I wouldn’t have you out for to long.”

“Can the sweet talk.”

Those hazel eyes sparkled. “You are fascinating! Such a beautiful woman that hates being treated like a queen.”

“I’m a hunter. Not a queen.”

The smile grew and he said, “So fascinating. But to give a more specific answer to your question.” He moved and sat back down. “I brought you here because of the necklace.”

Kit gritted her teeth. “You just told me to keep it.”

“Not to take it from you. To see what it chose you.”

“Chose me?”

Loki nodded. “You’re a smart witch. Despite what I said earlier I know you are. That necklace has a protective charm on it.”

She nodded. “Yeah I got that from the Enochian.”

His eyes widened. “You could read it?”

“Well yeah. I’m the only living witch that I know of that can.”

He stared at her in shock for a long time then simply whispered, “Fascinating.”

[solani-and-ashe]

Lulu as the Goblin King is hot but so is him with a riding crop 😩💦 just yes please!

HERE U GO BONCH

The tap of the riding crop on stone was utterlytormenting. You’d wanted to make a deal to get magic- to be gone with yournormal, human life, and instead become a witch, but like the ones in the farofflands. But your frustrated cry, to exchange your life for power was notanswered in the way you thought it would be. Goblin King made you think hewould be ugly, malformed. But no, he was handsome, imposing, and every bit thefae he was.

He’d heard your bargain and took you up on the offer. Montaghe called himself. High Fae and King of the Goblins and the EnchantedLabyrinth. When you expressed distress and demanded to return home- he gave youa challenge. Reach the castle beyond the goblin city by the 13thhour, and he would return you home, magic and all. Fail however, and you wouldremain here, with him as one of his subjects. Magic, and your old life lost.

 The 12th hour, you had managed to get to the city, butwith no way in, you were starting to panic. You didn’t want to become a goblin,you just wanted a bit of excitement. A bit of magic. Not this-

“Having trouble?” He liked to do that. Appear behind you,teasing every hour or so, giving you unhelpful clues and hints. He also seemedto have been flirting with you, abet, poorly.

“Well, given I can’t climb up your stupid town walls,yes, yes I am having trouble.”

He kept tapping his riding crop against the stone.

“You could give up you know; fear me, love me, doeverything I say-“ He purred, two long stride closing the distance until he wasright next to you, smirking. “-And I would be your slave.”

You pushed him away, stumbling back against the stonewall. “I will never give up.” His pout returns, the same one he makes after youreject his inevitable offer.

“Perhaps not. But tenacity will only get you so far.” Youblink, and he’s gone, yet his voice lingers. “You’ll need luck for the rest.”

 You wanted to cry. You reached the castle gates as theclock struck 13.

 You reached it, but did not managed to make it inside,the doors open even, as if mocking you. Tired, resigned, you collapsed to yourhands and knees, knowing you were a fool. You should have just begged to be letgo, offered something else. Now you’d become a goblin, a stupid, ugly, magicalgoblin serving a king who looks like the stuff of a fairy tale.

“Why are you crying my little sunbeam?” His words offeredno comfort. His victory loomed in your mind. “You made it. Almost. It was agood effort, but you did lose in the end. Pity for you, that.” The tip of hisriding crop slid under your chin, making you look at him.

“Why the tears. This is what you wanted, a new life,magic. I only gave you what you desired.” You shook your head. Not like this.Not trapped here forever.

 “I ask for so little. Fear me, love me, do as I say, andI will be your slave.” He lets you face fall, running the crop down the side ofyour face. “Is it so terrible? Your fate? To spend your days here by my side?It does not have to be made of tears and sorrow my sunbeam. You should thankme. Never to grow old, never to be touched by illness- you would have everythingyou desire, and all it takes is you to accept.”

 You look at him, tears running down your face. Hisarrogance, his beauty, his charm- he’s a fae. He’s a liar. You don’t answer.The crop hits a nearby goblin who’s instructed to take you to your new home. Inthe castle.

 It’s a room. A proper room. Filled with fine things younever knew existed. Why, is the question that runs through your mind. Why thislavish living space? Why the castle? It doesn’t make sense. But then the faerarely do.

As the day ends, answers are no closer. The goblins yousee call you mistress enchantress. One kindly answers the question as to why.You belong to Montag, the king, and you are to be magic soon. Magic like king’smagic. Dinner is served in your room. Warm fresh bread, a vegetable soup andwater. Nothing fancy, but filling.

 The next day was a mix of sounds and strangeness. Wakingto what you thought was the caw of a rooster was actually a yelling goblin. Youhad clothes waiting you at the foot of the bed, a lovely dress that sparklesand was softer than silk. It was beautiful, and wearing it felt almost like amockery, a crime. Montag, who lounged in his strange throne was pleased by bothyour arrival, and appearance.

“Hello starlight.” He crooned. “You look even more lovelythan you did at the ball.”

“That was real?” You ask, shocked. It hadn’t felt real…

“Sweet sunbeam, you really ought to not be so surprised.Have I not done so much already? Given you magic, turned back time, turned theworld upside down and back again- is a ball where we celebrate your arrival so beyondwhat you think of my abilities?”

You blushed and shied from his outstretched hand. “So shy. What happened to your fire, that brightness?”“Oh, it’s still here.” You whisper, almost hissing at him. “But I’m about tosquander my remaining time as a human.”Montag stared at you before breaking into laughter, his goblins joining him.

“Still human? Darling, you haven’t been human since themoment you ate the food last night.” Your face paled as he smiled. “You haveeaten our food- and willingly. Magic was to make you mine, but the food to keepyou- ageless, immortal. You are as I am.” He did not bother with respecting yourpersonal space, coming close enough to touch, yet not.

“You are my prize for your lost wager. A companion, amember of my kingdom.” You whimpered, looking away from him as he grinned.

“Remember my offer sunbeam. Fear me, love me, doeverything I say-““-And you will be my slave.” You remember. But that does not make the realityhurt any less. You cannot eat breakfast, and lunch and dinner are taken in yourroom.

It goes on for a few more days before finally, Montagsummons you, the throne room empty.

 “Do you think to starve yourself? That I would allow such?You will eat sunbeam.” He snapped. “You do not have to love it here-“ He was mercurial,mood changing on a whim. One moment scolding the next, gentle and soothingcupping your face. “But it is your home. I would have you happy sunbeam. If onlyyou would-““I will not give you what you want.” His smile was cruel.

“You will sunbeam.” He let you go. “You will sooner orlater.” Needless to say, you ate your food.

 Weeks as his ‘companion’ and Montag did everything in hispower to both remind you that you belonged here, that you were a member of hiskingdom while also showering you with gifts. It grew tiring, resisting. It grewtiring hating him out of spite. And slowly, you came to understand- he had beenkind to you. He didn’t demand anything, didn’t force you to do anything, heonly asked.

 And like Montag said, eventually-

“Montag.” You said, looking across the table at him, the goblinking reading a missive of some sort while he ate.

“You terrify me.” A few of the goblins heard you, fallingsilent.

“I care for you, deeply.” More of them went silent.

“And from now on, I will listen to you.” White eyes likepearls looked up, alight with mirth.

 One moment at dinner, the next in a lavish room of silkand gold.

“I know what you intend.” He crooned, that damn riddingcrop of his gliding along the slit of your dress.

“But those are not the words I need to hear.”“I-“ You were afraid to say them. They carried so much weight, and for fae,words were stronger bonds than any steel.

 “Show me my sunbeam.” He leaned in, a lick running up theside of your neck. Sudden, intruding upon your person, yet the wickedness of ithad you gasp and arch into the touch.

“Bend over my bed.” You knew what he wanted. To show youwould obey. Blood rushed to your face, yet you did so, rear pushed out.

“Do you fear me?” He asked, the tip of leather running upand down your thigh. His hand running down your spine until it reached the dipbefore your ass.

“No-“ Not really.

“A mistake then.” The crop came down on your ass a sharpsting of pain making you cry out in shock. “You should fear me my sunbeam.”Again the crop came down, the fabric of your dress blessedly buffering hisstrikes.

“Ah!” He did not stop at two strikes, or three. He administered them acoss yourbackside, taking his time to pause on occasion, soothing your muscles with hishand. Caressing you, kneeding the flesh until you relaxed, only to strike youagain.

“What a disobedient thing you are.” Montag smirked, blonghair looking a touch wilder than before. “But you are taking punishment sowell.” You sighed as his hand once more began to sooth the tender spots he’dcreated.

“Now strip sunbeam, I must make you learn what it is tofear me.” You felt like you were back in the ballroom, in a haze, his wordslike honey and sugar. Hands at you back, you did as he said, letting the starlightdress cascade down you body onto the floor.

“All of it.” He purred, and just like that you yielded,bra and panties joining the dress in a pile.

 Naked you gave into his hands, letting him guide you tolay upon his bed, still bent over, but no longer propped up, fighting to stand.Instead, pliant, relaxed on his silk sheet.

“You did as I said.” He groaned as he ran the crop alongyour inner thigh, parting your legs until you glistening slit was exposed. Theleater tip dragged across your labia, moving your slick back and forth overyour out lips, teasing you with a feather light touch.

 A tap to your clit, you gasped, jerking as the ridingcrop continued to tap against the pink pearl that commanded your desire.

“Do you fear me sunbeam? Fear what I can do?”

“Yes-“ You response was breathy, and you moaned when thecrop was dragged firming down towards your ass.

“Say it my darling.”

“I fear you.” Your reward was a sharp slap across yourthigh, making you jerk and shake, more of your slick forming to the point itbegan to run down your thighs.

 “Do you love me?” You sighed, pushing back to the handthat caressed the marks he’d left on you.

“Montag-“ “Well sunbeam?”

You mewled as his finger slipped between your legs, rubbingyour clit with slow deliberate motions.

“I need to hear it.”“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His finger pushed in, stretching your walls,making stars dance behind your eyelids.

“I love you.”

 His finger was removed and the whine that left you wasdesperate, needy. You wanted this- wanted him.

“Lovely my sunbeam.” His praise warmed something in you,made you blush. It felt nice, his approval. “Now- tell me what you desire.”His skin on your own, you moaned. This was the magic of fairy. The lust andlove and pleasure they could bring when one gave into them and their charms.And you had- willingly even.

“You-“ You pushed back, firm heat rubbing against thecleft of your bare ass. “I want you.”“Command me.” He growled. “For I am your slave.”

 His cock moved, slipping to rub along your sensitive fold,wetting and coating itself in your desire.

“Fuck me Montag.” Your demand was met with his movement.A smooth, long thrust right into your core, your voice was lost, stolen withthe sudden mind blowing pleasure of him.

Sex had always been sex, but this? This was otherworldly,this was magic.”

“You fear, me, love me, do as I say.” He thrust into you, hard length fillingyou perfectly, rubbing and touching every place that make your whimper and moanfor more.

“So now, I am a slave to you.” Over and over he move,dragging his cock against what felt like every nerve ending in you, making youkeen and mewl as your legs shook, desperate for more.

“My queen.”

 A hard slap of his hips, You screamed for him, pushingback as he hilted himself. You moaned and rocked against him as he took hispleasure and gave you your own. Your ass, already tender and sore flared witheach slap of his hips against your own, only serving you make you clench andcry out around him.

 Soo enough, the pleasure, just as quickly as it came,reached a crescendo, Montag’s thrusts becoming wild and erratic as he groaned,swirling his hips as he made you chase your orgasm.

 “Come for me my darling.” You gripped the sheets, eyesfluttering as his cock dragged across your g-spot, as stars danced in youreyes.

His command, you were bound to obey. Your orgasm tore ascream from your throat, and you shook under him as he grunted, pushing deep,lifting your hips to get just the right angle as he came after you, pushing hisseed deep. Your whine of bliss was matched only by your lover’s heavybreathing, his grip tight on your legs, keeping you lifted just enough so youcouldn’t move.

 Eventually, the fae king sighed, his own bliss completed,and pulled out, a pleased hum leaving him at the sight not only at your abusedand red ass, but your swollen cunt, white cum dripping from you as you laythere, moaning and sighing, euphoria not yet vanished from your mind.

 “Do you now see my sunbeam, my starlight?” He lifted youeffortlessly, taking you to lay in the bed properly, by his side.

“All you desire shall be yours.” His fingers ran throughyour hair as you curled into his body, his smile wicked as it was loving.

“My little witch, my darling fighter, my sweet sunbeam,my precious starlight.” He kissed you slow and deep- he tasted of magic and mystery-a fae king given flesh.  

“My perfect Queen.”

[hannahindie]

Angels Can’t Cook

Characters: Castiel x Reader, Dean Winchester (brief) Word Count: 2,514 Warnings: Some language, Cas being freaking adorable, Dean being a little shit. You know, the usual. A/N: I wrote this for @roxyspearing’s “We have a gif for that” challenge! My gif is below, and though it didn’t quite go the way I originally planned, I absolutely love how it turned out.

Beta’d by my wonderful writing soulmate, @trexrambling: “Famous last words. Also, that flower lady is my new favorite side character.” Dude, me too. Maybe I should write a fic with just the side characters coming together to save Sam and Dean. hahah

and also @pinknerdpanda, who is my literal twin: “HxlhskyrhlAgdjhflfi. *Flails* I love this so much!!!” I thoroughly enjoy making you flail.

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

“Sir?” The store employee cautiously approached the man standing in front of the meat case. “Sir, do you need help?”

The trenchcoated figured turned to face her, his eyes narrowed and head tilted, “Is this the best burger that you have?”

“Umm, yes, this is all the ground beef that we have.”

“Is it...organic?”

She forced herself to pull her eyes away from his bright blue ones and looked down at the case. “Well, some of it is. There are signs next to each one that tells you which is organic and which isn’t.”

He looked back down, his head still tilted slightly as he stared at the options. “What is the difference between organic and non-organic? Are they not all made from slaughtered cows?”

The girl looked back at him, her eyes wide as she wondered if he was being serious. “Umm...well, it’s more about what they’re fed and how they’re raised...and that sort of thing…” she trailed off.

He looked up and locked eyes with her again, “I see. Do you care about organic beef?”

“I mean...I care that the animals are treated well, although non-organic is cheaper so I guess it comes down to how much money I have for groceries that week. If I can afford organic, I try to support good farming practices.” Why was she telling this stranger about her shopping habits?

“I do not believe money will be an issue today, so in light of how Y/N feels about farm animals, I think I will choose the organic.” He picked up two packages of ground beef, then looked back to the girl and smiled, “Thank you, Lilly. I appreciate your help today.”

He left the confused girl behind and wandered off towards the fresh vegetables, his eyes trained on the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. His shopping cart was full almost to the brim, but he wanted to make sure that he found everything Y/N might like. He had spent the past three weeks observing her food choices, things she loved and things she absolutely hated, and was fairly positive that he had gathered enough information to create a dinner that she would enjoy.

“Why don’t you do something nice for her? Actions speak louder than words, man. Actions.” Dean’s voice echoed in his mind as he gathered corn on the cob, cucumbers, and a large container of spring mix and added them to his cart and, after a moment of deliberation, threw in a container of raspberries, a dozen apples, and a couple of kiwis. He made his way to the front of the store, but a bright splash of color caught his eye, and he changed direction.

“Can I help you?” He looked up to see an older woman with wispy silver hair pulled into a bun smiling at him.

“I am not sure. I would like to surprise my...friend. I do not know her favorite flowers, though.” He frowned, disappointed that he had not thought of it earlier.

“Hmm...well, let’s see.” The woman came from behind the counter and, only giving his overflowing cart a cursory look of thinly veiled amusement, began looking through the premade bouquets. “What’s she like, this friend of yours?”

“She is like a summer storm, warm and strong, but also like a hidden meadow, beautiful and wild.”

She looked up at him in surprise, “That is...very descriptive.” She put her hands on her hips as she thought, “None of these are going to work. Wait just a second, hon.” She disappeared into the room behind the counter and Cas stood silently, his eyes roaming the store as he waited patiently for her to come back.

“Alright, how about something like this?” Cas looked towards the voice and couldn’t help but smile widely at the bouquet she was holding out. It was filled with wildflowers, a rainbow of color sprinkled with baby’s breath, the stems held together with a burlap ribbon and fastened with a small pearl brooch.

“That is beautiful. I cannot think of a better way to describe Y/N using a floral arrangement. How much will that be?”

She looked from Cas to the cart, then back to him, “Is all that food for her?” He nodded proudly, and she smiled. “The flowers are on me, hon. She’s a lucky gal to have such a good...friend,” she said with a wink. Cas nodded and made his way to the checkout. This was turning out to be easier than he had anticipated.

Cas looked down at his flour caked hands and sighed. His assumption of this being easier than he’d anticipated was turning out to be short lived. He looked at the recipe again, then back down at the sticky mess that was supposed to be dough. Y/N had mentioned that when she was younger, her mother had baked the best bread she’d ever tasted. Of course, he didn’t have that recipe, but he figured any homemade bread would be suffice for what he had planned. What he didn’t plan was how difficult it would be to get it the right consistency. Baking was much more exact than the other things he had cooked today, and he was about to give up on the idea of serving warm, fresh bread with the soup course of his extravagant dinner plans.

“What in the everloving hell happened in here?”

Cas gathered the sticky mass of unusable dough and dumped it unceremoniously into the trash can. “I am making dinner for Y/N. You told me that actions speak louder than words, so I am taking an action, Dean.” He walked over to the sink and began scrubbing his hands.

“Yea, but I didn’t mean you had to destroy the kitchen in the process! Y/N just cleaned in here, she’s going to to murder you, man.” Cas turned around in time to see Dean wrinkle his nose as he looked down in one of the bubbling pots on the stove. “What...what is that?”

“It is tortellini. Y/N said she loves tortellini, and since she orders it at every restaurant that serves pasta, I believe that my assumption of it being her favorite food is accurate.”

“You're not wrong, but how long has this been boiling for? You’re supposed to take it off and drain it, it only takes, like...five minutes. They don’t even look like tortellinis anymore, it’s just soggy noodles and floating cheese.” He turned off the burner and moved the pot from the hot surface. “What else are you trying to make?”

Cas gestured to another pot on the stove as he pulled out the loaf of french bread he had bought as a backup, “Mashed potatoes. She loves mashed potatoes, so I made them from scratch. I found some that you could add water to, but it did not feel as personal that way.”

Dean nodded, “Not bad, buddy.” He grabbed a wooden spoon and scooped out a mouthful. The moment it hit his tongue, Dean groaned and spit it back out. He glared at the flavorless mass as it hit the floor with a wet thud.

Cas looked at him, his brows knitted in concern, “What is wrong?”

Dean wiped the offending potatoes from his mouth and tossed the spoon down on the counter, “Do you even know what salt is? Pepper? Any kind of seasoning at all?”

“They are mashed potatoes, I thought that that was all I needed to do.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “You thought you...just what...where’s the butter? Where is it?” He flung the refrigerator door open and began digging around. “Do we have milk? You’ve got to use milk and butter, Cas, or else it’s just...smashed potatoes. There’s no flavor, just a sad paste that no one wants to eat.”

“I do not need help, Dean, I am managing just fine on my own.” Cas grabbed a bowl and began pouring salad into it. He started cutting up carrots with a little more force than was necessary.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta disagree. It looks like all you’ve managed to do-” he stopped abruptly, and Cas glanced over to see a look of horror on Dean’s face. He looked from the stove top back up to Cas’ face, his mouth hanging open. “What...did...you...do?”

“I cooked steak,” Cas said with a shrug before returning back to his carrots.

“No, no, no, that’s not what you did. You made leather...you...destroyed...how? How did you do that? Cooking is not that difficult. You know what, it’s fine, it’s okay. You don’t eat, so obviously that’s the problem here. It looks like you bought enough food to feed us for a month, so I’ll just cook something up real quick and you can take the credit.”

“I said I can do it myself. I am making dinner for Y/N, not you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “No, you are making poison for Y/N. None of this is edible, man. Just let me help. Angels just aren’t cut out for this, obviously. I’ll cook it, you deliver it.”

Cas slammed the knife he’d been using onto the counter and ripped off the apron he was wearing, “Bite me, Dean. I was only trying to do something nice for Y/N, like you told me, and clearly I have made a mistake.”

“Aw, come on, I didn’t mean anything by it…” He trailed off as Cas disappeared. “Bite me? He’s been around me for way too long.” Dean turned back and looked at the kitchen, his hands on his hips. “And of course I’m going to have to clean this up before Y/N comes back.” His eyes land on the bouquet of flowers Cas had carefully arranged in a glass jar he had scrounged from the pantry and smiled. Cleaning up the mess would be worth it if those two got their shit together.

“What happened in here?!”

Dean flinched, then turned and gave Y/N a smile, “We were, uh...experimenting with food. You know, like those..uhh...gastro pubs you hear about all the time.”

She crossed her arms and frowned as she surveyed the mess, “Gastro pubs? And who is we? You had better clean this mess up, because I’m not doing it. Ugh, I can’t believe you. Gastro pubs…” She turned and walked out of the kitchen, still mumbling to herself. Dean grabbed a towel and a fresh trash bag, resigning himself to his fate.

“So much for that nap I was going to take,” he grumbled as he began tossing things into the trash.

Y/N was laying in bed, still frustrated by the mess she’d found in the kitchen. She had spent hours in there, cleaning and organizing, and Dean had destroyed it in one fell swoop. “Gastro pub,” she muttered as she angrily flipped the page of the book she was trying, and failing, to read. She wasn’t sure why it had frustrated her so much. Dean was usually pretty good at cleaning up after himself, but she was exhausted, and all she wanted was a little appreciation for what she’d spent so much time on.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she laid her book down, “Come in.”

The door creaked open slowly and Cas walked in, a large pizza in one hand and a beautiful bouquet in the other. “Hello, Y/N. Would you like some dinner?”

She smiled and nodded towards the empty spot next to her on the bed, “Sure thing, Cas. That’s really sweet of you.”

He sat the flowers on her desk and shut the door behind him, “I am sorry about the mess in the kitchen. I know that you spent a lot of time cleaning, and I promise I will make sure it is spotless.”

She tilted her head, “What are you talking about?”

“Dean said that I should do something nice for you, and so I decided to make your favorite foods for dinner. It has become very obvious that I do not have the skills necessary to do that. Reading instructions is one thing, actually doing it is quite another. I may have gotten frustrated with Dean and left the mess behind.” He sat the pizza between them on the bed, “I hope that pizza is okay. I will go clean up after myself.” Cas moved to stand up, and Y/N put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Stay...please?” He settled back onto the bed and Y/N flipped the box open, “Why did you want to do something nice for me?”

Cas cleared his throat and looked at her from the corner of his eye, his fingers drumming nervously against his thighs. “Dean said that actions speak louder than words, and I thought perhaps cooking your favorite things would be a good way to show my affection for you.”

Y/N froze, her pizza lingering halfway to her mouth, and she swallowed thickly as she sat it back down. “You have affection for me?”

He looked down at his hands, “Yes, I believe that would accurately describe how I feel towards you.” He was surprised when Y/N covered one of his hands with her own. He looked up to see she was staring at him, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth.

“Well, that’s good, because I was starting to think that maybe I was the only one that felt that way.” Cas’ brows raised and Y/N’s heart began to race. She had wanted to say something to him for months; but how does someone tell an angel of the Lord that she’s falling in love with him?

“You...also feel affection towards me?”

Y/N nodded, her hand moving from his own to his cheek, his five o’clock shadow rough against her palm, “Yea...I do.” His eyes searched hers, and for a moment she was lost in the bright cerulean depths. She wondered, not for the first time, how something could be so blue. She moved the pizza onto her night stand and shifted so that she was facing Cas. She leaned in and kissed him softly, smiling against him when she felt his arms wrap around her waist. After a moment, she pulled back to look at him, “I didn’t know that angels knew how to kiss.”

“I am not sure that they typically do. I have learned a lot from the pizza man.”

“The pizza man...you know what, I’m not going to question it.” She kissed him again and gasped when he flipped her onto her back.

“What about the kitchen?” Cas whispered, his blue eyes locked with her y/e/c ones.

“Sounds like a job for Dean, if you ask me,” she said with a wink. “Besides, I think you’ve got another job to do in here.”

“I would not call it a job-”

“Shut up and show me what the pizza man taught you.”

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? My Masterlist is here! 

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[myaekingheart]

I had just about the most fucked up night’s sleep last night, so of course my dumb ass had fucked up dreams to match. 

For context, I fell asleep at 8pm which never happens, woke back up around 11pm, tried to fall back asleep for an hour before realizing it was useless, tossed and turned in misery and boredom on my phone with my fiance backed up against me on one side and my cat backed up against me on the other so I had damn near no room whatsoever, and then ultimately passed out again around 3am, was half-awake around 8am-ish, and then didn’t actually wake up and get out of bed until almost 1pm. 

Yeah. I’m screaming, too.

I can’t remember at what point in my broken sleep that any of these dreams happened, or between which intervals of waking up, so we’re just going to run with it.

The first was that I was in what was meant to be David Bowie’s house. It was a huge house, but not exactly fancy. If anything, it was kind of basic. Kind of reminded me of a childhood friend’s house from kindergarten back in, like, 2002. So just imagine what an ideal big suburban house looked like in 2002 and you’re pretty much there. The most striking part of the house, however, was the staircase. It was really wide and angled with large platforms at each turn. About halfway up there was a tall wall against the front of the house with a massive window and a fat windowsill the perfect size to sit on (though that wasn’t the primary function). And all along the stairwell, straight on the walls, were paintings that David Bowie had done himself. He wasn’t a spectacularly talented painter or anything but the audacity of just painting straight onto the bare white walls of what was likely a very expensive house was super ballsy. I remember I was on one of the platforms of the staircase, laying in what looked like a very cheap, very low-to-the-ground wooden bed. Like envision a homemade doll bed out of planks of wood but size enough for a human woman to fit (not that I’m very tall so it wasn’t even that long and I remember being a little scrunched up anyway). It had a thin little mattress and a thin white sheet that I was covered with, and I was trying to sleep. And David Bowie saw me and inspiration must have struck because he then began to paint me just like this on the wall that I was facing, on the right side of the large window. And again, he wasn’t a spectacularly talented painter so the little thing he did of me was not a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it looked kind of like the paintings I used to try to do when I was younger with shitty anatomy and wonky facial features. But he was so proud of it, I didn’t dare say anything to damper his happiness. The one thing I did question, however, was why it appeared like my head was poking out of both ends of the blanket. He went on to say that the one “head” was actually my head and the other “head” at where my feet ought to be was actually him trying to include my cat curled up at the end of the bed. Which made sense once I realized that the cat “head” had orange-y brown and white fur like Tex does in real life and my “head” had black hair. 

An interjection real quick just to say that the fact that Tex was laying at my feet in my dream is very accurate because when I woke up at, like, 1am, he was literally laying right between my calves so that I had absolutely zero leg room whatsoever. 

The second dream was the one that got me really upset and fucked up in the head. My fiance and I were in Walmart and we were accompanied by a girl who I knew back in elementary school. She looked exactly the same as she did back then, with long blonde hair down to her ass and bright blue eyes and a certain sense of confidence that was almost condescending. The background of this was that apparently my fiance and I were taking a crack at polyamory and she was the third in our relationship. She was, however, unfortunately extremely controlling. She took over the entire shopping trip and insisted that she control what we bought and what we were going to eat. Some of the contents i remember her grabbing were a plastic container of fresh, pre-cut mixed vegetables (I think it was probably carrots and kale and some other stuff, so basically like a salad mix), a tan cardboard container of a dozen frozen eggs, and clear goose milk in a very fancy glass bottle super similar to a bottle of Sheridan. My fiance went along with it, claiming that we needed to start eating healthier anyway, and he seemed relatively content with this girl’s new role in our life. I, however, was quickly spiraling. I began feeling as if my fiance liked this girl more than he liked me, or that he felt she was better for him than I was or something, and her outward, dominating nature not just in general but around him specifically was just really starting to rub me the wrong way. I started falling behind, dragging my feet through the store, I think I was also hugging the only thing I had a say in getting to my chest as if in an effort to keep my heart from breaking through my ribs and exploding across the fucking linoleum floor. At one point I’m pretty sure my fiance stopped and pulled me aside for a moment alone and asked me what my problem was, and I said something along the lines of this being a mistake and that “I’m too competitive to be in a polyamorous relationship” or something. He kind of expressed a sentiment along the lines of it being too late now or something, and I remember standing in the register line beside my fiance watching this woman ring up all of this stuff that I didn’t want nor was I going to eat and just kind of having an existential crisis about it all. I think at one point I even likened her to the personification of my eating disorder, in a way? Like her being super controlling and telling me what I was and wasn’t allowed to eat and making me feel like I was unworthy and unlovable and not good enough or something. Though there are aspects of the whole thing that don’t actually make any sense in the ED allegory but still, whatever. It was a thing.

Another interjection to note, though, that this also makes a bit of sense in terms of the eating stuff since my ED has been kicking my ass hardcore this week and especially last night because I skipped dinner so I was starving when I woke up in the middle of the night but wasn’t about to get up and get food despite the fact that all I had to eat yesterday was a handful of chocolate chip cookies and a goddamn fucking fruit cup. 

The third and final dream was luckily probably the most uplifting, especially after the polyamory thing. I was at a hotel with my parents, my fiance, and my mother in law. We were packing up to leave, so I remember going through the room and carrying things down to the truck and just the overall back and forth of it. And I remember the staircase up to our room reminded me of my university’s old student union--they had an outdoor staircase encased in brick with a large window that looked out to where the old union used to be. So I remember stopping for a minute there to look out this window and kind of reminisce for a second before going back up. I also remember grabbing my two childhood baby dolls from the nightstand by the bed (which is where I actually keep them in my own bedroom in real life) and thinking to myself that I needed to take extra care with packing them and ensure that I was putting them someplace that was not going to damage them. This was all very basic until I went back into the hotel lobby for another round but suddenly the method was different. The lobby was very big and everything was painted a dingy gray-tan and dark gray-brown and there was crunchy carpet and coffee-colored linoleum and warm aesthetic lighting shining on what looked like some sort of stage even though it was actually further into the ground instead of raised. And there was a winding, walled off ramp leading down toward the “stage” that was filled with a queue of people. The whole thing essentially reminded me of the former version of what is now the Epcot Experience building in Epcot, back when it was tan and kind of rundown and hosted like special booths for Food and Wine or guest services for annual passholders and shit like that. It just overall very much had the same sort of vibes, as well as the same feel as waiting in line for it’s a small world at Disney World just with the way the ramp lead down into the main attraction below. But anyway it turned out that now in order to get back up to my hotel room, I was going to have to wait in this line and brawl the other people there for permission or something? Though this rule also seemed to have zero effect whatsoever on my parents, my mother in law, or even my fiance. It seemed this was only applicable to me. I think I had just come back from standing in line and then going upstairs to cart more of our stuff to the car when I reentered then, and I had only really taken five minutes but in that span of time, the line had grown exponentially. There was also a gate now at the line’s entrance, and a perky blonde girl about my age was standing at a podium tracking everyone who stepped in line. I almost turned around and gave up because I didn’t think it was worth waiting in line, but the girl called me back over and encouraged me to get in line anyway. I walked up to the podium after someone else, who entered after telling her that their number was 17. I guess people had been assigned numbers before they got in line, maybe in an attempt to organize who was going to brawl who or something. Either way, it felt a lot like when you pull numbers at the deli or the DMV. So I walked up to the girl at the podium after the person in front of me was granted entrance and she asked me what my number was. I told her I didn’t have one. She said “Well, what number comes after 17?” and I hesitantly replied “Eighteen...?” which evidently was not the right answer as the girl then started exclaiming about “Why not one??? Why not one?!?!”, though not in an angry way but more like an “incredulous laughter, this is ridiculous” sort of way? And then there was a tanned guy in a neon t-shirt who was way too enthusiastic for his own good, and also kind of buff, who cut his way through the crowd and appeared next to the girl. I suppose he was maintaining the line and calling the next challengers up to the plate or something. He insisted that I was, in fact, number one and then grabbed my wrist and began weaving back through the crowd guiding me to the front of the line. We had to squeeze past a shit ton of people, some of which I remember being extremely fat and insistent on not making room for us to get past, until we reached the very front of the line. He placed me as the third person in line, behind an unidentifiable person in spot one and my best friend’s best friend in spot two. Standing behind me in spot four was my childhood best friend who seemed super confused as to what was going on. She kept looking at me like she was trying to understand a language she didn’t know. And the guy simply explained to her, and this was his exact quote, “Sometimes someone comes along who is faster and stronger.” And my childhood best friend just immediately went “Oh, it was [myaekingheart], wasn’t it?” as if now it all made perfect sense, like no wonder I was the one butting ahead in the line because I was apparently supreme and superior and so it made sense that I was given special treatment and allowed to skip the entire line, though this was not said in a condescending or rude or bothered manner but rather a simple show of ultimate comprehension. But really, the only reason I can think of for my actually getting brought to the front of the line was that I remember it was already nightfall out as we were packing up the car and my dad had mentioned something about needing to get this done quick so we could get a start on the drive back home and be back before it got too late because he had to be up at, like, 3am for work in the morning and I hated the thought of being the reason why he could get hurt at work the next day because of sleep deprivation because I was the one taking too damn long to get a job done. But, like, despite all of this, it was also kind of comforting/reassuring to hear this exchange between this guy and my childhood best friend about my being strong and supreme and shit, especially after the legitimate blow to my self esteem that the weird polyamory dream had on me. 

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Who Are You Going to Be One Day?

Photo: Suzanne Weerts He was nine pounds when I met him. Somehow I’d squeezed all nine of those pounds out of me with no medication. “Hello you!” I said, holding him in my arms as the night nurse tried to put him in the bassinet. “You should get some rest,” she said. “No, I’ll just keep him right here by my side.” I wasn’t afraid of crushing him in my sleep like I was with his older sister. I wanted to drink him in and imprint his utter perfection alone in that peaceful hospital room. I touched his soft cheek and searched his alert eyes for a sign he recognized the unconditional love that pulsed with my every heartbeat. Later that day, I’d be the mother of two: an infant and a toddler. But at that moment it was just him and me, numb from our mutual physical exertion.  A nurse came in, turned on the lights and pulled the curtain closed beside me as if that would allow for peace and privacy when another new mom was wheeled in surrounded by a boisterous family. Roommates: a perk of managed care health insurance. I practiced the Lamaze breaths I forgot to use two hours earlier, knowing that this was the calm before the real storm. “Hello you,” I whispered, “Who might you become one day?” and I dozed despite the din. Truth is, I wasn’t always the best mother. In some ways it is amazing he and I made it out alive. I am dedicated but I’m easily distracted. I manufacture magic despite multi-tasking. I’m overprotective but I encourage adventure. I am fabulously flawed like every other originator of offspring I know, and my son loves to challenge my competency. For example, there was the time I took a shower. Honestly, when you’re the mother of two or more tiny people, it seems like you can count those times on a hand, and this was one of those days when I could no longer bare the scent of myself, nor could I imagine my husband coming home from work to my greasy hair matted with spit up and my frenzied eyes ringed in puffed purple. I planted my children in their room and closed the door. My bathroom is six feet away. The baby monitor was next to the shower and the hall door was closed. I implored my three-year-old: “Play toys with your baby brother for two minutes on the rug,” I begged, “Only open the door to get mommy if it’s an emergency.” ADVERTISEMENT I took the fastest shower in human history. Didn’t even dream of shaving my legs. I wrapped that towel around me with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings and stepped into the hall to see the children’s bedroom door open. My daughter stood by the also open hallway door. “Where is Jack?” I squawked! “He wanted to go out,” she replied. “What?!” I screamed as I ran through the house leaving footprint puddles on the hardwood floors, the linoleum in the kitchen like a slip-n-slide. The kitchen door was open too, and then I saw that the gardener had the pool gate propped open with a trashcan. The rumble of the lawnmower drowned out my cries as I flew toward the pool imagining the worst scenario, and there I saw my six-month-old son on his knees by the pool steps, splashing his hand in the water. Another ten seconds and who knows? A couple of years passed sans near-death experiences when I was folding laundry and my then three-year-old son toddled into my bedroom looking like Charlie Brown’s friend, Pigpen, with a literal poof of dust floating above his head. Hoping it was a minor concern, I asked him to show me where this happened. I mean it had only been a couple of minutes since I put superhero t-shirts in his drawer and he was happily playing with Thomas the Train. But when I entered his room, it was like the Colorado Rockies in March. Every peak and every valley covered in fine, white dust. His train table, stuffed animals, books, rug, closet, shoe rack, and shoes. All white. The dresser, inside opened drawers and the lampshade: all covered. He looked at me through frosted eyelids as I slid down the wall and broke into defeated sobs. There was only one solution that I could think of. We had to sell the house. My husband, of course, disagreed with my assessment and, after hours of dusting, vacuuming, and swiffering, my son’s room was cleaner than it ever was or has been since and smelled powdery fresh for years. But I remain filled with fear for having left the baby powder within reach each time I’d hear a PSA about Mesothelioma. Perhaps a year went by when my daughter came into the kitchen while I was making dinner. “Jack is rappelling up the slide with a bungee cord,” she warned. I looked out the window and caught sight of him in his boyhood Indiana Jones bliss. “Don’t be a tattle tale,” I told her. “It looks dangerous,” declared my ever-wise six-year-old. I went back to chopping the vegetables no one would want to eat, but within fifteen minutes, I heard a cry outside the kitchen door and there stood Jack, his face masked in blood. The bungee hook had come free from the top of the slide and gashed him at the brow-line, centimeters from his eye. The emergency room doctor concluded he was lucky to still have that eye. My son has leaped over countless boulders spanning deep crevasses at 31 National Parks. I hear the rescue helicopters circling above and imagine the reporters’ microphones forced in my face, “What were you thinking? Are you fit to be a mother?”    But at least I tried to teach safety and calculated risk, and I’ve been known to pull over my car and threaten to call parents when I see his friends riding their bikes with helmets dangling from handlebars or perched on their heads with unbuckled straps flapping in the breeze. My fear is justified thanks to my son. As we were loading the car en route to the airport for a trip to Mount Rainier, my then ten-year-old son was racing his sister on his bike just a block from our house. He flipped over the handlebars and tri-pod landed in the street, cracking his helmet. His sister carried him into the house crying. He said his arms hurt, but there were no outward signs of trauma and he seemed to recover after a tender snuggle. We had to leave or we’d be late to the airport. But as we sat in the terminal, ready to board, I looked at his ashen face. He was in pain and fearful of derailing our travel plans. I imagined being in the wilderness without access to medical care. What kind of mother am I? We booked later flights. A trip to Urgent Care revealed not one but two broken arms. One in two places. Trooper that he is, my son hiked Mt. Rainier like a man in a western stick up, arms perpetually raised over his head to minimize pain and swelling. My husband and I fed and bathed him for the first month of fifth grade. The scent of baby powder has long since faded, replaced by the fragrance of sweaty soccer shin guards and volleyball kneepads, Nike high tops and discarded jerseys resting on guitar cases and flung atop a surfboard. In ninth grade, the kid broke his collarbone snowboarding. In 11th grade, a collision on the volleyball court resulted in a High School career-ending knee injury. But those days of picking up Lincoln Logs and stepping on Legos fade more quickly than you can imagine when you’re in the midst of them. Last week I watched as that baby I refused to put in the hospital bassinet threw his graduation cap into the air on his High School soccer field. Now, as I look into those bright blue eyes, I know he is secure in my unconditional love. Yet when I hold those stubbly chiseled cheeks in my hands I still wonder, “Who might you become one day?” Though I know him better than I did eighteen years ago, saying goodbye as he heads out to discover that answer is going to be my toughest challenge yet. #Natl-feed #SpokeContributorNetwork #RealTalk #Spoke

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/who-are-you-going-to-be-one-day-1

[gracewithducks]

Starving our Guilt (so others may be fed), Matthew 25:31-20 - Lenten series, week 3

Two of the most frequently uttered words in our house – and two of the most often ignored words in our house – are “supposed to.”

 As in, “Are you supposed to stand on the arm of the sofa?”

“Are you supposed to jump on the bed?”

“Are you supposed to get yourself a snack without asking?”

“Are you supposed to use your markers to draw on the walls?”

“Are you supposed to decorate the shelf with nail polish?”

 Often, the question is met with a guilty expression – and, as soon as mom or dad or grandma looks away, the bed gets jumped on, the hidden marker is produced, and the guilty party keeps right on keeping on.

 Then again, we adults are quite prone to recognizing that we, too, aren’t doing what we should. I lose count of how many evenings, after the kids are in bed, we collapse on the couch and sigh to one another, “I know I’m supposed to be doing dishes… I’m supposed to be folding laundry… We’re supposed to be doing our taxes… I’m supposed to be planning worship… You’re supposed to be starting your sermon…” So much that we are supposed to do, and so little time to get it all done.

 It’s not just adults who use the phrase, however. What I find quite remarkable is how often, in the morning before school, my bright, brilliant, creative genius of a daughter forgets what she’s “supposed to” do.

 Why aren’t you dressed yet? Why aren’t you eating your breakfast? Did you put your socks on? Did you use the bathroom? Did you brush your teeth? “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

 Really? Really? My kid has been going to school for five years now, and she doesn’t know she’s supposed to wear clothes to school. I find that hard to believe.

 But by far, by far, the biggest battle – the biggest “supposed to” in our household – has to do with dinnertime.

 I still remember, before I had kids, how I thought that dinnertime would go. I was going to be the loving but firm momma, the one who said, “You eat what you’re given, and you’ll be thankful for it” – “You’ll eat what’s in front of you, or you will go hungry.”

 And then I had kids. And I learned that I had grossly underestimated the strength of their will. Sure, they’re still supposed to eat what’s on their plates; they’re supposed to at least try a bite of everything, without complaining; and even if they don’t like what we’re having, they’re supposed to at least be polite.

 Supposed to. Unfortunately, there’s a big gap between “supposed to” and actually do.

 Let’s talk some more about Michaela. I am convinced that, someday, the world is going to know her name: my daughter is going to be a great lawyer, a teacher, a motivational speaker, a champion, a politician, maybe even the president. She is strong; she is unyielding and unbending in all the right ways. She has all the tools in her toolbelt to resist bullying and peer pressure and the patriarchy; no one in her life is ever going to be able to push her around.

 And if you’re reading between the lines, that incredible strong will – well, sometimes it looks and acts an awful lot like a stubborn little girl. Michaela knows what she likes: and often, it’s not what’s in front of her. She likes noodles, but not sauces; she likes roast, as long as it’s dipped in ketchup; she likes lima beans and broccoli – for real! – but she refuses cantaloupe or carrots.

 She is, really, much better than she used to be. When she was three, she fell asleep with her head on the kitchen table, next to her plate which held one single grain of plain white rice, which she absolutely refused to even try. And there are still nights where she chooses to go to bed hungry; and there are still nights when grandma is in tears because our little girl refuses to taste the meal grandma worked all day to make.

 Michaela knows the house rules. She knows what she’s supposed to do… it’s just that, sometimes, she really doesn’t care.

 So my husband Mike recently decided to try a new tactic with our little girl. He sat down with her one night, after a particularly difficult battle of the wills, and he started to tell her about other little girls who go to bed hungry, not because they choose to, but because there is nothing for them to eat. He told her how fortunate we are to have such good food, fresh and healthy and delicious food, and to have all different kinds of food, so our bodies can be strong. He told her that some of her friends at school aren’t that lucky. Some mommies and daddies and grandmas can’t work, or work really hard but still don’t have enough money to buy enough food. Some of her friends at school might not get dinner at night; some of them only get the breakfast and lunch they eat at school, and they don’t even get a choice in what they eat: take it or go hungry, that’s it.  

 I think Mike was hoping to open Michaela’s eyes to just how fortunate she is. But our little girl – well, I told you she was going to change the world. Instead of guiltily going back to clean her own plate, she went to the pantry, and started asking what she could take. She pulled out boxes of cereal and cans of fruit and vegetables and peanut butter and tuna fish, and asked if she could take them to school, so her friends wouldn’t be hungry any more.

 “Supposed to” only gets you so far. Michaela knows she’s supposed to eat her dinner, just like we all know that we’re supposed to help the hungry people in the world. But what I’ve learned, what my daughter has helped remind us, is that – while guilt can get you started, love is much more powerful a motivator than guilt can ever be. Guilt makes you feel bad, but love makes you care.

 This Lent, we’re studying George Hovaness Donigian’s book, “A World Worth Saving.” This week’s theme is, “Feeding Other and Starving our Guilt.” Donigian tells the story of his family, who escaped the Armenian genocide in the early 20th century.  During those years, heartbreaking images and stories of Armenian children, parentless and starving, were used as advertisements, trying to encourage Americans to “open your heart; open your pocketbook” and help. And I don’t know about you all, but I remember as a child being told that there were children starving in – name the country, they changed over the years – children were starving in some far away country, children who would be grateful to have my dinner; and the message was, of course, be quiet, you ungrateful brat, and eat your dinner.

 But even as a child, I wondered – and maybe you did, too – how is me eating my dinner going to help those starving kids on the other side of the world? If they were so hungry, and they wanted my brussel sprouts – they were welcome to them. Like Michaela, I wanted to find a way to give them food, not just be guilted into eating my own.

 Guilt is a powerful tool to motivate people to give – once or twice, to volunteer – once or twice. But it’s lousy at effecting any real lasting change, because it’s just such awfully hard work to keep feeling guilty all the time. Even during this season of Lent, when we talk about repentance and we’re encouraged to reflect on the ways we’ve fallen short – it’s not enough just to feel badly; we need to do something. To “repent” doesn’t mean to fall down wailing at our failures, it means to turn around, to make a choice to move in a new direction and to live in a new way. We get tired of maintaining our own guilt, and besides, didn’t Jesus come to set us free from all that? To set us free from feeling like we have to earn forgiveness and prove our goodness? Didn’t Jesus come to give us abundant life? Didn’t he promise us peace?

 Of course he did. Jesus didn’t go around making people feel guilty; he didn’t heap more loads upon the backs of those who were already feeling unworthy, unwanted, and unloved. Instead he said, “I forgive you” – and he also said, “Go, do better; go, and love as I’ve loved you; go, and sin no more.”

 The world doesn’t need us to feel guilty. Our hungry neighbors don’t need us to mutter guilty prayers or sanctimonious graces as we sit down to our meals. Our neighbors who are losing healthcare don’t need us to feel guilty as we keep going to our doctors’ offices. Our neighbors whose children are struggling in school don’t need us to feel guilty as we send our kids someplace else.

 What they need – what the world needs – is for us to care: to care enough to do something; to care about them the same way we care about our own families. What God asks from us, what the world needs from us, is for us to love enough to get involved.

 It’s been a year and a half since the image of a three-year-old boy named Aylan whose body washed up on a Turkish beach made us care about the children of Syria. It’s been seven months since our hearts were broken by five-year-old Omran sitting, stunned, covered with blood and debris on an ambulance seat. In those moments, we looked at chose children and saw our own children, our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews and neighbors – instead of the guilty numbness of statistics, we saw faces. We heard names. We saw people, and we cared.

 Do we still?

 All the Aylans and Omrans in the world don’t need us to feel guilty; they don’t need us to assuage our consciences or assign blame. They need us to care, to love enough to get our hands dirty.

 That’s what God does: God so loves the world, that it isn’t enough for God to sit on a cloud far away, to look down and pass judgment on us – God so loves the world, that God comes into the world, to find us, to love us, to work to make us whole. And it’s messy work. It’s hard and heartbreaking work. It ends up costing Jesus everything – and still, even then, he doesn’t assign guilt or heap on blame: instead he says, “Father, forgive them” – and his arms of love stay open, always, for our sake.

 We’re invited – we’re invited to be a part of that love. We’re invited, to show that love – to the children in Michaela’s school, to help make sure they have enough to eat, to help make sure they know someone cares enough to read to them, to listen to them, and to love them. We’re invited, to show that love – to our neighbors who are struggling, who are lonely, who are feeling like no one sees them and no one cares.

 We’re invited to love – not because we’re supposed to, but because we get to, because we have been loved, and because we have more than enough love to share.

 May God open our eyes, so we will see the face of Christ in the people we meet this week. May God open our hearts, so we will be moved to do something. May God set us free from our guilt, so that we will be free to love our neighbors – in what we say, and what we give, and what we do.

   O God, you love us; your love sets us free from our own insecurities, our failures, our brokenness, our imperfections, our grief, our fear, and our guilt. Give us a love that meets others where they are; give us a love that moves us to action. Give us passion, give us compassion, so we might be your hands and your feet. In Christ’s name we pray; amen.

[jessenceoftravel]

oi tioi oi (like OMG)

Day 2 (or something) and the jet lag is still REAL. But, as always, we persevere. Keep calm & tour on. With energy from soup, pineapple, eggs and tea (all things edible at our “continental” breakfast) we journeyed nearly 3 hours outside the city to learn more about rural Vietnam- the lifestyle of more than half of the 96 million that make up this Communist country.

The views were far different than those in Sai Gon, and far more beautiful. Lined with bright green rice patties and spotted with water buffalo & cow, I quickly remembered that sometimes the best views of travel are caught through bus windows. Mr. Duc told us all about rice production and export, rural funeral traditions and, of course, more about how “The War” impacted South Vietnam. While he never said it, I couldn’t help but wonder if his own resentment against Americans might still exist. And, while I learned a whole bunch, I couldn’t help but wish he’d stop talking so I could start napping.

The weather was wet (and sticky) so the bus ride took longer than expected. We parked for a bathroom break at an amazing rest stop filled to the brim with plants. Though the bathrooms were janky, the pictures were worth it.

When we finally arrived at the Mekong River, we boarded the Sam Pan Boat that would be our personal transport for the day. The dirty river, which flows from Tibet, was lined with broken down homes- many open in the rear so we could see inside and decorated with a filled clothes line. On the river were house boats- also run-down and most furnished with a comfy hammock (some even meant for babies). There was garbage and filth everywhere.

Our first stop- a small town where we learned how to make fresh coconut candy (which tasted like a coco flavored caramel). We also watched as the village women cooked rice wraps on a fire... I had a turn & it was an uber fail. We channeled our inner B. Spears and held an Anaconda over our shoulders. Nope, not kidding. That actually happened. And let’s be honest- we def did it for the pics.

After some shopping, we boarded the Sam Pan and headed to lunch. A short walk off the river and we were amidst a village of farmers’ homes. Again, run down and open, we caught a true glimpse of rural life Vietnam: simple and somewhat dirty. After not too long, we made it to a Historic House, which was preserved... you guessed it, after “The War.” We ate a fancy Vietnamese lunch complete with vegetable soup, fried spring rolls, pork and steamed rice, and (drum roll) a WHOLE fish (scales, big eyes & all), which we used to construct Vietnamese wraps using rice cakes, pineapple and cucumber. Not my favorite meal, but dessert was the freshest mango I’ve ever had- major redemption.

Side note: the Vietnamese apparently don’t drink anything cold. Since ice isn’t an option (because tap water ain’t bueno to drink), we’ve been forced to drink room temp water... in 90 degrees with humidity on fleek. How’s that sound? I’ll tell ya- No. Fun.

The way back to the hotel was “meditation time,” as Mr. Duc said- AKA time for a major nap. And so nap I did.

After dinner, we took some of the students to experience night life culture in the city. There is a street in Sai Gon that actually closes for wheels- walking only. It was packed with people (especially on a Saturday night) and glowing with neon lights. Lots of music, lots of street food. It’s amazing how a city transforms after dark.

Here’s to new slithering pets and turning into a sticky rice bowl!

-J

[lovepeacebeautyaction-blog]

CHADAR

                                                 CHADAR       

“ If you can be Love in any situation, Then you are in Meditation”

                                                                                                   Osho

  “ On the Chadar,Everything freezes but Tears”

                                                                            National Geographic

Chadar Trek on the Frozen River Zanskar – Leh Ladhak, Jammu & Kashmir,21/01/2018 to 31/01/2018

Thoughts

My body was struggling from cold, extreme cruel cold ( if you can call -35 degrees that!), and then there was walking on ice, which only felt /looked good on you tube video featuring similar a*******!!! And yes sleep!!! Or the lack of it! The moment you try to close your sleeping bag , completely cutting out any air from outside, you start suffocating, less air, heavy breathing, foul words ( inside your head), and just as you put your sunburned nose out for a whiff of fresh air , your hand accidentally hits the side of your tiny camp/tent and the small ice formations on the top of it fall down right onto it…. Your nose….. $$$****$$####  more bad words! There goes your sleep. As if it was there in the first place, Crazy!!

 But what was real torture was not the queue for morning ablutions or the no water or bathing period for all the 6 days or sleeplessness. ZIP !! Yes ZIP was the real Pain Clinician!! The only time you have to face the beast on a normal day is while wearing your Pant. But here in Chadar there is a ZIP almost everywhere. On your down jacket ( Which is on top of 4 other layers of various types of clothes , thanks amazon) you have at least two zips on your handpockets where you will place a) mobile b) Lip balm ( My Wife said ill spoil my lips) c) Wet Tissue Packs d) Sanitizer e) chocolates and umpteen other un-necessities. You need to zip and unzip them to take all goodies in and out. They may get stuck, may come out altogether and you are highly inconvenienced, to have said the least. After endless  such zipping and unzipping during your trek, in the evening , what greets you is more Zipping and Unzipping. The dinner tent, our cute sleeping tents ( with two zip covers), the washroom ( to put it sweetly), sleeping bags ( two of them) all have zips. They get stuck, stop working and you are in trouble, lot of it!! It went this way , To satisfy your Hunger pangs after a hard days trek, you get into the dinner tent ----ZIP---Get In----ZIP Down-----Oops you forgot the sanitizer----ZIP Up---Out-----Close the Tent shouts one frozen soul from the inside---ZIP down ----- Then Sleeping Tent-----ZIP Up----twice-----Crazy search for sanitizer-----ZIP Down----Twice-----Back to the Tent------ZIP Up and -----ZIP Down----Dinner over ---ZIP UP-----ZIP Down ---- Sleeping Tent ----ZIP Up Twice -----ZIP Down Twice ------Repeat, you need to pee before sleeping ---- Then comes the most painful of it all ---- The sleeping bags!!!! Now multiply all these by 6---- days on Chadar!!!!

  You need to be a yoga expert to be able to sleep without using profanities!! But having done all and having succeeded in getting into your sleeping bag , you slowly start relaxing, no more fights with the ZIP, not until next morning or the midnight pee. Then, as you close your eyes, your tired mind suddenly wakes up. You start seeing those beautifully colored mountains with almost nil vegetation, changing shades with every turn and curve, those fantastic artistically designed rocks, a red , a blue,  a green a yellow and so on and on, of all shapes and sizes, the beautifully flowing Zanskar river sometimes white, sometimes blue or a deep green, singing a song similar to those sung by our Zanskari Porter during their post dinner ordeal, those ice petals more like a lotus flower floating on top of them. There were rows of ice crystals along the edges of the river, wonderfully formed, like jewellery by cartier or bvlgari, shining brightly in the sun. The sky was mostly blue, then green ,yellow and orange as the sun passess, only to bring in that wonderfully bright and large moon!! Jhule—Jhule --- Jhule ---- your heart starts dancing to the tunes of nature!! Bliss!!!! You start experiencing a deep Joy, or Love for everything and anything around you. And somehow you realize that that Joy or love is going to remain in your heart for eternity!!! And then some sleep.

  Facts

Trekking Distance – 80kms, Maximum Altitude -11,123 ft , Temperature – (-10 to -35), Days – 6

(No Roads, No habitat, Sleeping tents & Food need to be carried, 4 to 5 layers of winter clothing , oxygen cylinders and basic medicines for emergency, chances of Altitude Mountain Sickness, Acclimatise for atleast 2 days before trek at Leh)

 We were 18 of us ,Doctor Saab and Amitabh Saab being the eldest. Amitabh Saab was known to me, after all it was he who did everything to make me and Captain comfortable during our stay for Desert BRM. I remember meeting our Spartan King and Babu Prince during that same event. The Adorable Couple, there were two of them, had just put their photos on the groups whattsapp account, making it easy to recognize them at Delhi airport. Shetty with that handsome bearded face and Military Prince greeted us at the airport. Iron Man, I wont forget him, he visited Leh on his bermudas, can u believe that? It was -7 degrees there. Snow white had arrived on the same day as Mountain Man and Captain, i.e, a day before us.  The trip to Leh was fantastic. I was lucky to watch the mountains down below as I had got the window seat. Leh at last, and the view was breathtaking, mountains, lots of them. Trip to our hotel was short. We were lucky to have got such a hotel what with hot water, heated beds and even some south Indian breakfast. Went out in the evening for some shopping and also collected our gum boots from the nearby office of the tour operator. All arrangements were made and bags were filled and unfilled to balance weight and necessities. The next day we set out on our journey, visiting Pathar Sahib on the way. The way was treacherous with narrow roads and I imagined falling down the valley. If we fell straight down without going upside down, the view would still have made us spell bound, almost forgetting the fall. So beautiful was the view outside. After settling down in our sleeping tents at the base camp in Darr, few minitues later, we put on our Gum boots and started practicing a bit on frozen Zanskar banks below. Then, having had dinner, we left to our tents for some sleep. All that we had dreamed till now, would be a reality in some hours.

 We had a great start, some slow , some fast but all as excited and energetic as ever. Walking on the snow was fun, at least the first day. Stopping to gaze at a green ice formation or that startling Mountain at the end of the valley. Rocks attracted me, never saw such colours, such finish, the Creator was at his best. Clicks on the mobile, some using DSLR to create finise Cinderella wouldn’t have left an inch of it. She was always last to finish, clicking every turn and curve. We stopped when tired. Drank hot water from the thermos, which we carried on our shoulder bags. Then set off towards our destination. We walked half of the journey before lunch and by 4 or 5 am we’re at our days stop. The steep climb at the start and at Nayrek were the only places where we found it difficult. A minor mistake would have taken us into depths, down to the half flowing, frozen Zanskar. Otherwise, it was walking on plain ice. Small talks, philosophies, jokes and other exchanges brought us together as a group. Sitting around the gas stove in the evening at our destination dinner tent warmed our legs and sox and singing songs while drinking hot tea  warmed our soul. We were happy.

There was an accident on the 3rd day. Two of the porters were lost. We were less by one sleeping tent and 10 sleeping bags. Horror!! We were to freeze to death!! Friction, hot exchange of words, somehow the cold outside had crept into our hearts. But then common sense prevailed and we made our hearts bigger to accommodate one extra person in some tents thus making it much warmer. “My views have changed, humans are basically good, not bad”, said our Little Mrs Sunshine while we were walking, somehow that night, the same thought crossed my mind Some had to sleep with only an upper sleeping bag. But we survived. The desert team had to leave early, some had to catch a flight on 28. They left early, walking and covering more distance than us. 10 of us were left. But we had a happy reunion on Republic day, they were coming back fom Nayrek, we walking towards it. We had a Desh Bhakti moment in between and lots of clicks. They left us, some promising to stay back till we came. At Leh. Babu Prince promised me a champagne bottle. Never saw him when I returned. But I will come for it when I get back, and I am not coming back only for a bottle, I am coming for all of it Desert Prince!! Doc Bhai, Chauhan Saab, Shetty and Military Prince did the honours though!! Thank you!!

 Our guide was a cool man, Kashi,“hanji” was all he said. Never upset, never angry , always on his toes and checking the last person during the trek. The porters and cook worked all day and most part of night to make us comfortable. There was hot water all round, maggi and chocolate for a quick lunch on the way, followed by that awesome kaba tea, of which I used to gulp down a minimum of 3 cups. Breakfast was poha, poori or paratha and there were lots of stuff which all us had got like thepla, ladoo( that was me), adhadiya, pedas etc. in fact there was so much food, that even our Zanskari Porter started running away, when we forcefully fed them theplas!! There was also scrambled eggs and bread all served hot. Evenings we had Dal Rice, roti, some sabzi and even a dessert like gulab jamun, hot fruit salad etc. Sometimes the food was too good ( I weighed myself at Leh airport) and we had to stop in between to relieve. Chauhan Saab and Captain proved to be excellent company during such “ Khullas”. Me and Mountain Man, we’re Potty partners in the morning. During one such outing Akshay Kumar’s “ Toilet Ek Prem Katha” came into my mind. Sorry no more Potty details!The walks/treks were good, as your body was excercising and warm. Evening and nights were tough. Cold , very cold. We used to visit the small caves after dinner where the porters used to cook/sleep. At times we had the good fortune of hearing them play their pipes and sing. Melodious. Some nights we all joined together around a camp fire ( Firewood was scarce, and was available only on top of the mountains)to dance to the tunes of latest hindi songs and remixes. Lady Diana and Mrs Dixit knew how to shake a leg. Doc Bhai was the best among males. I believe everyone tolerated my ugly moves, maybe because I was ok otherwise. Poor guy, let him be, they might have thought. We had a visitor, Million Dollar Baby, we called her, a professional boxer, who couldn’t make the trek due to AMS. Later,  I cant imagine the poses I gave for that post dinner fiasco by our Captain at Nayrek. Night photography, he called it. No less than torture for me, being tired and cold, as always. The results though, were fantastic.

  After walking for 3 days through the narrow gulf of the beautiful mountains hearing only the crunching snow under your feet and the singing Zanskar, we finally reach the destination, Nayrek! Was I happy when I saw that outstanding view! , Spectacular!! God was down here for sure, taking time personally to construct that crystal cube made frozen waterfall!! It was out of this world. But more than anything else, I felt relieved. That’s it! We are here, no more onward journey! Time to turn back. I was literally exhausted, I mean,  after 12 kms walk on snow( Total onward Journey to Nayrek was around 40 kms), and then the steep mountain climb and ascend in the end to reach Nayrek waterfalls ( Chadar broke at the right place , just at the end), anybody would be. Lots of Kodak moments, dancing masti and some Desh Bhakti later most of us left for the tents. The sun was going down but four of us were still there, including our Captain, taking pictures in all permutation combination. You can’t afford to miss anything, after all who knows whether we can make it here again!! I started walking back slowly climbing the steep mountain overlooking Nayrek village. Once up, we took some time to catch our breath, wait for the captain, but more so for the view from the top. It got emotional when the four of us joined together on the top. Tears of joy, having completed something so tough and beautiful at the same time, flowed down her cheeks when Captain complimented her, Mrs Dixit. I too had tears in my eyes, more so because our dear Captain had got back my walking stick and goggles which I considered lost!!!

    Here to There

Just as I crossed 35, realization that I was nearing mid age dawned upon me. My blood tested positive for Diabetes type 2. I was depressed at first, then something inside me clicked, I started taking to badminton for an hour, then went on to increase it to one more. As 40 approached sad depressive songs filled my literary palate. Mid life crisis!I needed motivation. Took on running as an exercise, even went on to do a 10 km quarter marathon. Then Mountain man inspired me, his style statement, a la Sharukh Khan , made me buy my wife a cycle for our anniversary , two years back. She gifted me one too, a Montra MTB. Though I never attempted to copy his stunts, I felt like a hero myself, riding on that fluorescent green bike to and fro to my badminton court, 2.5 kms from home. That’s when our Captain chanced upon me and qualified me for a membership in our cycling club. I was elated. Next morning I did a 25 km ride, followed it up with a 40 km ride on a rainy day and then on a 125 km tiring ride to a far off temple. Though the last ride kept me in bed for 2 days, I was back and kicking in no time. Saboo, my friend, saved me from all those ferocious dogs on our early morning rides to various destinations in our city. Our city was beautiful, I discovered, and it changed color with every season. The next time I rode with Captain was for a BRM, 200 kms. Did it,lifted the cycle for a picture and posted it on all known social media sites, facebook, whattsapp, instagram. After all it was my first victory after LKG , And all due goes to our Captain!!

 That was 3 months ago, somewhere in September 2017, when he showed me the video, ice falls, ice walk, ice sleep, it was all white. Once again, I became an LKG boy and asked Captain the same question, can I do it? After all it was one of India’s most challenging treks. The answer was the same, Yes. Then began a maniacal purchase session on amazon and decathalon. Down jacket, fleece jacket, inner, gloves, outer gloves, sticks, small bag, rakshak and a lot of other un necessities. Not even for my marriage have I purchased so much!! And if not for Captain, I would have accumulated even more. The first trek of my life, I was very excited. Then there were training sessions,  starting at 5.30 am, running up and down a 60 degree slanting road after 15 kms of cycling for more than a month. That was followed by squats and other core exercises. But what made us get up in the morning was hot milk served at the joint next to the dam. To add spice, Saboo used to regularly bring in some good saffron. He was made to do all exercises in spite of the fact that he was not coming for the trek. Cinderella and Snow White made it only by 7.30 am, once we were finished with our workout, and then followed a series of artistic photography where no Spiders were spared!!

 After months of early morning cycle rides, walking and running around our lake and countless cups of yummy saffron milk, I found myself at Ahmedabad airport calling out our Captains name in vain. Nobody to Chadar?? Where were those Spartan Princes, where were those wonderful Couple? Nobody?? Inspite of my diabetes, I had already downed two sugary doughnuts and a cup of coffee (With two sachets of brown sugar mind you). I made love to Delhi water, the next day morning, using both hot and cold water to bathe. I was told that the next time I use water to wash will be when I am back in Delhi, i.e, after 11 days. Yuck!!!!. Picking up Cinderella and Mrs. Dixit, I reached Delhi the airport. Just before breakfast, Shetty tapped me on my back, he asked, Chader?? Captain?? And then the rest followed suit. Bachan Saab, I knew, then there was Iron Man, our poster boy wearing only bermudas to Leh??!! Captain greeted us at the Leh airport and that was followed by lots of camera and mobile clicks. The team was ready!! Chadar here we come!!

 Moment

Never in my whole preparatory period of 3 months or during the first 3 days of the trek was I prepared for that Moment. We were on the hill overlooking Nayrek Village and the frozen waterfall. Just the two of us, Captain and me, as Cinedrella and Mrs Dixit climbed down, after that emotional moment. We decided to spend some time after everyone left. I agreed, even though I was dead tired, for our Captain, after having spent all these days watching over us, needed some time for himself, to breathe in the sweet mountain air, to take in the beautiful view and just be there at the moment. We decided not to make any noise, let alone talk. The only sound was Zanskar singing. The view was enthralling and the moment was pure meditation, peace. I was awed by the amount of Love and Joy I felt. Captain’s thoughts were louder than mine and it brought me back. I heard him whispering ‘’ Mujhe Yahan Se Nahin Jana Hai, Nair saab, Mujhe Yahan se nahin Jana”. Das Saal se, Das saal se……..the rest of his words were too weak to hear above Zanskars music. I was watching a very beautiful moment in my life. More beautiful than all that was around me, was our Captains Emotions, Joy, Happiness, Love or was it something else, yet to be named by silly humans. (When asked by a local where he belonged to, during our trek, he replied, Yahin ka hoon, bus kamane keliye yahan wahan jana padtha hai) Was it his moment or mine? Of course his!!! He had waited for 10 years to be there. Me a mere 3 months. But then why was I so happy, why was I filled with such uncomprehend able feelings. Or were we the same me and Captain?? All I knew was that I was burdened for life by this unexplainable sweet feeling. And as a sign of victory, right then, God let us watch two Tibetan Wolves running across Nayrek Village, speeding across the mountain ranges in wind speed, covering them in no time. ( Captain says they were foxes, I prefer Wolf). Both sped at the same pace and had the same distance left between them till they vanished from our eyes. My destination was Nayrek, but I was destined for a better view, for which I thank God Almighty. A different I climbed down the mountain.

 P.S. :- The last three days were care free and beautiful. I still shouted profanities at night and ZIP pestered me till we reached base camp. Chader!!

Jhule ( Namasthe)

I Honour the place in You in which the entire Universe Dwells.

I Honour the place in You which is of Love, of Truth, of Light and Peace.

When You are in that place in You and I am in that place in Me

We are One.

Special thanks to both beautiful Bhabhis and their equally lovable Bhaiyas, , the Spartan Desert Prince Team for their Spirit, Our own Zanskari  guide and his mates for making our life a lot easier at Chader, Mountain Man for being with our Gals, and all three Sweet Gals for Wonderful company, Cinderella for selfless love, Snow White for Gyan (She was my best companion) and Mrs Dixit for the ACT (Enacted a scene from her Theater). Captain, I won´t thank you for anything!! I just won’t!! How can I thank myself?? Right ??

And yes, to my beautiful wife and kids, for silently suffering my absence.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             M.B.Nair