#i do not buy the idea of shadow being a drinker

[indigonite]

Lunch Break

(original under the cut)

(source)

[proudtoehaver]

A dance teacher!Hugh AU that may never see more of it in public than this. Enjoy some fairly contextless fluff and emotional h/c

His phone rings just as he's locking the door to the studio. With leaden movements Hugh digs it out of his coat pocket while depositing the keys in another.  

Paul's number. Damn.  

He knows he had promised to call Paul sometime during the day so they could schedule their weekend, but it had been so hectic since morning that he hadn't gotten around to it. Like every other day this week. In fact the last several weeks had been stressful at the studio. The downside of success. It should quiet down once Michael got back from San Fransisco, but that wouldn't be for another two weeks' time.  

So he guesses Paul finally got tired of waiting for the call and took matters into his own hands. He might as well answer and take the inevitable argument. Hopefully Paul isn't too pissed.  

"Hi Paul," Hugh says, trying to sound as neutral as possible.  

"Evening sweetheart." Paul doesn't sound angry or even testy, he does in fact sound happy and relaxed. "How are you feeling?"  

"Tired. Sore," Hugh admits.

"Mmmm. You really had some tough weeks, why don't you come over?"  

"Paul I- I'm really not fit as company tonight, too worn out."  

"You don't have to be fit for company, you just have to be here. It's been over two weeks since we had more than brief conversations on the phone or a short exchange of texts. I really would like to see my boyfriend in the flesh once in a while."  

Hugh can't deny the truth of that but part of him, the part of him that all too vividly recall how Terrence would try to guilt him over prioritizing his studio and professional life, rebels.  

"Paul, I'm not going to abandon what I've worked so hard to build. Not for anyone," he snaps.  

"I don't want you to do that. But I've noticed how hard you've been working these past weeks and how tired you are. I'd like a chance to look after you for one evening. I was thinking something along the lines of you having a long soak in my hot tub, loosen up those sore muscles, while I finish cooking you a warm, hearty meal. After we finish eating we can cuddle on the sofa together or just go straight to bed and cuddle there if you'd rather that."  

Now Hugh does feel bad. Another reminder that Paul isn't Terrence, not in any way, shape or form.  

"Sounds like you already started dinner," Hugh says apologetically, hoping Paul doesn't take affront of his angry outburst.  

"Well yes. I was really hoping I could talk you into this idea of mine."  

"Consider me convinced," Hugh answers.  

"So I'll see you in a few?" Paul asks and Hugh can practically hear the smile in his voice. "Or do you want me to pick you up? If you feel too tired to drive?"  

"I'm good to drive that short a distance, just mind your cooking," Hugh jokes. "I'll see you in a little while."

When he gets to Paul’s apartment building Hugh is all but done in and part of him just want to turn around and head home. But he made a promise and it has been too long since he and Paul met in person, even though he suspects that they’ll both end up finding tonight a disappointment.

Ringing on the door phone Paul buzzes him in and he drags himself up the stairs to Paul’s front door. It’s been left slightly ajar, welcoming him in.

“Hi honey,” Hugh calls as he steps into the small hall and closes the door behind himself.

Paul appears almost instantly in the doorway leading to the kitchen wearing an apron of all things. It makes him look almost ridiculously adorable in Hugh's opinion.

“Hi,” Paul says in turn, stepping up to Hugh, cupping his face and giving him a peck on the lips. “Ugh, you cold. Good thing then I already drew that bath. All you need to do is get out of your clothes and you don't usually have a problem with that.”

Paul wiggles his eyebrows as he finishes his sentence and Hugh can't keep from chuckling.

“Hey,” he says as he hangs up his coat and removes his shoes. “I can't remember ever hearing you complain about that before.”

“Wasn't a complain,” Paul says giving him another short kiss. “Just an observation. Now get in the bath with you and I'll continue dinner.”

Paul heads back into the kitchen and Hugh opens the door to the bathroom. It is dimly lit and the air is warm and damp with steam from the already filled tub. Stripping down he slips into the bath, groaning softly as the hot water engulfs him. Resting his arms on the side of the tub he leans back his head against the edge and closes his eyes, relaxing and letting the water do its work on his sore muscles.

He had left the door to the rest of the apartment open and he can hear Paul putter about in the kitchen, humming softly to one of those old jazz tunes he loves so much that is playing mutedly in the background and the smell of cooking food is wafting through the air.

The humming comes closer and Hugh sense a shadow fall across the room from the hall.

“Do you want a drink?” Paul asks him when Hugh turns his head towards him, cracking one eye open.

“Paul, you don't have to do all this,” Hugh protests, not sure how he'll reciprocate what feels like a very lavish treatment.

“Have to? No. But I want to,” Paul says warmly. “So, drink?”

“No alcohol, it would just put me straight to sleep.”

“Coffee instead?”

Hugh nods slowly.

“With some caffeine I might stay awake through dinner.”

“You really have worn yourself out, haven’t you? Well one coffee coming right up.”

Paul disappears out the door and back to the kitchen, leaving Hugh staring after him with a frown. He sits back in the tub but doesn’t quite relax, not knowing what to make of it all. This, Paul cooking for him, the bath, the coffee, it feels significant somehow but Hugh isn’t quite able to word how. It feels... intimate in a way they haven’t been before.

Not that they haven’t eaten together, breakfast, dinner and lunch. They’ve slept together in the metaphorical sense as well as the literal. Until tonight Hugh would have said that the only way they could get closer was by moving in together and that’s not what this is.

Or maybe it is. In a way. Not the literal moving together of finding a common home in one of their apartments, or in a new place, but finding, no making, a space in their lives for each other, even when it wasn’t convenient.

And Hugh isn’t sure how he feels about that at all. If he was to be brutally honest with himself he knows he has been keeping Paul at arms lengths, letting him in but only so far. Terrence and all his controlling, jealous bullshit has left him hesitant to let others in quite that far, the only ones there are those from before he broke up with him. After that no one had been allowed that close and certainly not a lover.

But Paul?

“Is something the matter? You look very serious,” Paul says stepping into the bathroom holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. He crouches down next to Hugh, handing him the cup.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I’m not really ready to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Paul caresses his should. “But when you are, remember that I’m here.”

“I know. It’s just- I'm not sure.”

A loud ding interrupts Hugh before he can say anything else.

“Damn,” Paul swears. “The lasagna. One moment, I don’t want it to burn.”

Jumping to his feet he bolts out the door.

So it had been Paul’s special vegetable lasagna he had smelled. Paul had made it the first time he’d had Hugh over for dinner and Hugh had loved it. He also knows how much effort it is and that Paul rarely makes it without a specific occasion. Paul had begun that not even knowing if Hugh would come over.

Hugh takes a sip of his coffee. It’s hot, strong and with a dash of milk, just like he likes it. Terrence had never bothered learning it, or maybe he had deliberately always gotten it wrong so he had to make coffee less often. But Paul not only knew how to get it right, being a tea drinker himself he hadn’t even had coffee in his home when they met, but he’d started buying it after they started dating.

“Sorry about running out on you like that, I didn’t want the food to burn,” Paul says as he returns, crouching down again beside the tub.

“Your special lasagna?”  

Paul nods.  

“What’s the occasion?” Hugh asks.

“That you’ve been working hard for weeks and deserve a treat.” Paul cups the back of Hugh’s neck. “I can see how worn down you are. I’m not telling you to stop doing what you so clearly love, or to cut back. Just let me look after you for a night? I don’t want to see your star burn out.”

With that Hugh suddenly feels tears spilling down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

“Hey,” Paul says softly, removing the mug from Hugh’s hand and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m soaking you,” Hugh protests, his voice muffled as his face is buried against Paul’s shoulder.

“It’s my apartment, I’ll find another shirt to wear. It’s okay Hugh, I’ve got you.”

Paul is hugging him fiercely and Hugh let himself cry out though he’s not quite sure why he’s crying at all.

When he pulls back Paul brushes the last tears away with his fingers.

“Feel better?” he asks.

Hugh nods.

“Yes. Not sure what happened there.”

Paul says nothing, he just offers Hugh a gentle smile and a kiss.

“I need to check on the rest of the food. Finish your coffee and when you’re done soaking come join me for dinner.”

Dinner itself is lovely. Paul has made up a picnic like setting in front of the fireplace. It’s not cold enough for a fire but still it’s nice and the informality makes Hugh relax further.  

They talk about how their days have been since they were last together, about things they’d like to do together once Hugh has more time again and by the time dinner is done Hugh can feel the full weight of exhaustion built up by the past weeks, but also deeply happy.

“I’m glad you talked me into coming over,” he tells Paul as they lie in bed, his head resting on Paul’s chest. He feels warm and relaxed, and more at peace with himself and the world than he can recall being in a while outside of dancing.

“So am I. I like having you over. Just... having you here.”

“You know,” Hugh says after a few moments of silence. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I could keep some clothes here? Just a spare shirt or something like that? Would make it easier in the morning not having to go home to change.”

In spite both of them semi frequently sleeping over at the other’s place Hugh had never left any clothes or anything of his at Paul’s and Paul had never asked, perhaps sensing that Hugh needed control of his own space, if it was okay that he kept something at Hugh’s.

“If that’s okay,” Hugh finishes softly.

“It would,” Paul says slowly. “I’m sure I can clear a shelf or two for you.”

“You could keep something at my place too. So you wouldn’t have to rush back either.”

“You don’t mind? Me keeping some shirt or something at your place? Or shifting some of your things to here?”

“No. No I don’t.”

Hugh realizes the truth of those words as he says them. But still they feel monumental. An invitation and an offer to stay, to take up space in each other’s lives, even when it’s not convenient.

[covenden7]

30 Day Song Challenge(In Isolation)

So, during lockdown I have seen a number of people posting on Instagram their 30 day song challenge. What a great idea, I adore music and it is a huge part of my life. As I wanted to get involved without the commitment of posting daily, whilst working from home, I have decided to post my 30 days in one go, as a blog. This give me the chance to talk about my reasons behind why these songs are personal to me and what memories come flooding back, be it, good or bad. I am not even sure if I will share this so if I have, I hope you enjoy it, would love to hear anyone’s thoughts on either a song choice or this as a whole.

Day 1: A song you with a colour in the title. - This is an easy one for me, the first song choice is Prince - Purple Rain. Prince was the first artist I fell in love with once i’d seen him live. I was privileged enough to see Prince back in 2007, as a long blonde haired, skinny 19 year old. I had been to gigs or concerts before but only to go out with friends really. Before going I wouldn’t say I was a huge fan of Prince, or music in general really. This gig changed everything, I was blown away by this 5″5 purple God performing on stage. His version on Purple Rain that day will stay with me forever. Breathtaking.

Day 2: A song you like with a number in the title. - One of my favourite songs, by another of my favourite artists. Arctic Monkeys - 505. There is a few different layers to this song, which I really like, the slow build up, telling of a love story. Leading into the rockier 2nd half of the song. Terrifically written, never a song that gets skipped when it pops up on shuffle. Excellent to hear live too.

Day 3: A song that reminds you of summertime. - Little bit of an obvious summer choice, this one but it’s Cliff Richard - Summer Holiday. One of many fond memories I have of my childhood, is whenever we would go on a family holiday, usually to a Haven park, or similar. As we got nearer to the destination my Dad would put this song on for our yearly family holiday sing-a-long.

Day 4: A song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget. - I could have used this for a song that makes me sad but I’ve got something else in mind for that. My choice for this song is Akon - Lonely. My mum and dad separated in 2005, hardest time on my life. This is the song I was listening to when I found out. This song is not about wanting to forget either of my parents, I love them both dearly. The person that was the reason behind their separation, that is the only person I’d ever want to forget.

Day 5: A song that needs to be played loud. - Guns n’ Roses - Sweet Child O’ Mine. This song used to be a bit of a party song for me, all too often the air guitar would come out and I would be rocking away on the sofa at my Dad’s sometimes with Verity drumming in the background using a knife and fork. This song has to be played loud. It’s a little out dated and in a way, a bit cheesy but I’m sure when Axl Rose was writing this the intention was for it to be played loud. Always.

Day 6: A song that makes you want to dance. - Easy one this one, and will not come as a surprise to many. Taylor Swift - Shake It Off I have spent many-a-night, slightly intoxicated in the wonderful Boomers in Hamble, dancing in my very camp style, to this song. Everyone has a guilty pleasure and Tay Tay is mine. I love her music, genuinely.

Day 7: A song to drive to. - This is probably the most random one on the list. Del Amitri - Roll To Me, Always reminds me of my best mate, Dan Champion, when we first moved into Hamble, we would play this cheesy nonsense record a lot, typically in the car, very loud, driving to get things for the flat. First time I moved out, reminds me of being in the car to kit out my first ever flat. Very happy times, even if the song is pretty crap.

Day 8: A song about drugs or alcohol. - As you may have noticed I do have a varied music taste, one genre I do love is Country. My choice for this day is Chris Stapleton - Tennessee Whisky. In my opinion, this guy just about has the best voice in the world at the moment. There is a country core to his music but the guitar work and his voice, go across genres. I don’t have anything overly personal that I have to say about this song, it was the first one oh his i heard and think he’s fantastic.

Day 9: A song that makes you happy. - In a word “lots” lots of songs make me happy. This one I’ll dedicate to my old man. Dean Martin - Little ‘Old Wine Drinker Me. I have lost count how many times we have been told off by Barb or Verity because after one or two too many beers we decide that we are The Rat Pack and pop on the Dean Martin CD. Usually a sign of a good night in our house if there is a big pile of CD’s left on the side, well before streaming. This song will always make me smile and immediately make me think of my Dad. My hero.

Day 10: A song that makes you sad. - I am quite lucky in a way that in my life I have not lost that many loved ones, I lost my Grandad when I was four so unfortunately have very few memories of him. The next person that I lost was my Nana in 2012, the final song at her funeral was Nat King Cole - Smile. A beautiful song, that will always make me well up. My Nana was incredible for my Sister and I growing up, always showing us love, affection and often giving us a lot of food our Mum wouldn’t have approved of. This one is for her.

Day 11: A song that you never get tired of. - There’s a number of songs that can fit into a number of categories. This being one of them. When I started creating this list there were some artists that I knew had to be on here, I am therefore picking, David Bowie - Rock and Roll Suicide. David Bowie is one of my favourites, the man is an absolute genius. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust is one of the best albums of all time, and its closing track Rock and Roll Suicide is, in my opinion, the best song on the album, maybe Bowie’s best. I could listen to it over and over, the album and the song.

Day 12: A song from your pre-teen years. - I guess in terms of pre-teen, you’re talking 10-12. I’ve gone for a early teenage, pre-adult years song. Usher - Yeah. In my latter years at school, when I first started partying and drinking, this song was the theme tune. Any house party we would go to as 15/16 year olds. This song would be on, all night, on repeat. Definitely mine, and a lot of my friends at the time, first song we had to get drunk to.

Day 13:A song you like from the 70s. - Slightly random one here, I am going for Neil Young - Old Man. I would say I’ve only really listened to Neil Young in the last few years, Barb, unsurprisingly got me into him - more of that to come. I love Harvest, terrific album. This is a great song, but I the thing i love most is the story that accompanies this song. Young famously tells a story about buying a ranch and the condition was that the old farm hand will remain on the property and take care of maintenance. Neil Young and the old man grew to become great friends, up until his passing. They learnt they have very different backgrounds and experiences but ultimately connect very well. In a way, I wish more often people would go back to connecting rather than sitting on phones or social media. I realise the irony that I am in fact posting this from a social media platform whilst using a laptop and ignoring my flatmate!

Day 14: A song you want to be played at your wedding. - I have tried to avoid repeating artists during this, but this could be the only artist that appear twice. When I do get married the song that I share with my future wife will be one that is special to us. This song I have picked is more because of the opening lyrics and love for the band. Courteeners - Take Over The World. “I looked into her eyes and I swore, I’ve never written a cliche before, and I’ll probably never do so, she was beautiful, though. I think it’s time for you and me to take over the world”. That pretty much explains itself there.

Day 15: A song you like that is a cover by another artist. - I have gone for Johnny Cash - Hurt. Originally recorded by Nine Inch Nails in 1995, this is the final song Johnny Cash released before his death. A beautiful song, and Cash’s raspy voice makes it feel even more emotional. Another one that sits in the country category. I have always been fond of Johnny Cash but when one of my favourite actors, Joaquin Phoenix played him in Walk the Line, my love for both went through the roof. There was always going to be a bit of Cash on this list.

Day 16: A song that is a classic favourite. - Similar to David Bowie, I couldn’t do this list without The Beatles, I always say, if someone doesn’t like, or at least appreciate The Beatles, you can’t trust them. My choice is The Beatles - In My Life. My favourite Beatles song, the lyrics are superb, unsurprisingly and it takes you on a lovely little journey.

Day 17: A song that you would duet with someone else. - I do have a Karaoke duet song that I often sing with one of my oldest friends, Matt O’Dwyer, so this is an easy one for me Robbie Williams and Jonathan Wilkes - Me and My Shadow. He’s Jonny, I’m Robbie, we sing this song, often. We will continue singing it until the day we die. Missing every single note, without fail, yet still making our audience laugh. Pretty much sums us up as people too. Silly song, silly people. Can not wait to be stood next to Matt in Three Lions Bar, Magaluf belting this one out in the hopefully, not too distant future.

Day 18: A song from the year you were born. - For a number of years I was under the impression that the number 1 song when I was born was Fairground Attraction - Perfect. As you can now look at the internet for what was the song was number 1 when you were born. Mine was actually, Bros - I owe you nothing. Perfect is a much better song, that why this is my choice.

Day 19: A song that makes you think about life. - Luke Bryan - Drink A Beer. Another country entry here on the list. Whilst a lot of songs are about heart break or getting drunk. This one is about both, in a very different way. Luke Bryan lost both his brother and sister in their early 20s or late teens. This song tells the story of how he found out. The chorus goes “I’m gonna sit right here, on the edge of this pier, and drink a beer” I imagine if, god forbid, any tragedy happens in my life, I’d do something similar. Find a quiet place to myself, and drink a beer to any memories or thoughts I have on what has happened. I also makes you realise that life is short and precious, a cliche I know but it’s true, now more than ever. Tell people you love them. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Day 20: A song that has many meanings to you. - This song was always going to be in this list. Gerry and The Pacemakers - You’ll Never Walk Alone. I love football, this song will always remind me of my club, Liverpool, for obvious reasons. Whether that is when we’re 3-0 in a Champions League final and need a little extra boost from the fans. Or if we are 4-0 up at home to Bournemouth singing this song for the last few minutes. I can listen to this song in any emotion and it fits, happy, sad, angry etc. This song fits. It’s perfect, it’s beautiful, you’re genuinely never alone, in life, I mean, the real thing, life. You’ve got support, you’ve got love, you’ve got everything you need. It is my club’s anthem and I am very proud of that and my club.

Day 21: A song you like with a person’s name in the title. - The song I’ve gone for is a very famous one with a name in the title, Derek & The Dominoes - Layla The main reason I have picked this song is because of that opening guitar riff from Eric Clapton, possibly the best guitarist of all time. I’ve always been a fan of a strong guitar riff and there are very few stronger than this absolute banger from Slow Hands.

Day 22: A song that gets you moving forward. - I have never been one to work out or exercise too often, throughout my life, football has been the one thing that has acted as the exercise for me. For a period of time when I used my Dad’s cross trainer, the one song that would move me forward and give me a boost was Prodigy - Voodoo People(Pendulum remix) The Prodigy are a very different band but very popular amongst so many. This song, gets the adrenaline going for me, the Pendulum remix side kicks in and did help mid-workout for me.

Day 23: A song that you think everyone should listen to. - Elvis Presley - If I Can Dream(Philharmonic Orchestra Version). No reasons. Just listen and enjoy.

Day 24: A song by a band that you wish were still together. - Oh, I wonder what band I will pick for this one? Oasis - Rock and Roll Star. One of my favourite bands, as they are for many people around my age. I believe their best album is Definitely Maybe, it starts with the aggressive, in your face, flat out brilliant, Rock and Roll Star. Oasis are listened to in my flat, certainly weekly, possibly daily. I have been fortunate enough to see both Noel and Liam live in their careers since Oasis but what I would do to see Oasis live, even once.

Day 25: A song you like by an artist no longer living. - I am going for someone who was the first album I ever remember asking my Dad to buy. Michael Jackson - Earth Song. Yes Dad, this means Michael Jackson has died. This might have been one of the first songs I really liked, I certainly remember it being stuck in my head as a child. I could have chosen this for a song that reminds you of your childhood, but I am opting to dedicate that one to someone else. I have always enjoyed the music of Michael Jackson, every talented. There’s a reason he is called the king of pop, and rightly so.

Day 26: A song that makes you want to fall in love. - I am not picking a romantic song here, having never really been in love it would probably be difficult for me to do so. Instead I am opting for a song with a title that would fit this category. The Stone Roses - I Wanna Be Adored. The Stone Roses are my favourite band(thanks to a little help from my step mum). Who doesn’t want someone that adores them? This is the greatest opening to any gig I have ever been to. June 2017, Etihad Stadium, Manchester. Mani’s bass starts, the crowd erupts. I am about to see my favourite band for the first time in my life. They lived up to any expectations I had. I will stand by my thoughts of that day, John Squire is the best guitarist I have ever seen live. Sensational.

Day 27: A song that breaks your heart. - I am even struggling typing this one. I am picking Zac Brown Band - My Old Man. This song is about a young boy’s love of his father, how his father is his hero, a giant, a superhero. Hoping he can grow up to be just like him. He then has a son and is hoping he is the same figure to his son as his father has been to him. In the final verse you learn that Zac Brown’s father has passed away. Always brings a little tear to my eye, I’m not ashamed to say I am a cryer, at times. I have the same feeling towards my Dad, my hero, my giant, my superhero. This song makes me cherish every moment I have with him and every other loved one I have within my family.

Day 28: A song by an artist who’s voice you love. - I could have picked Chris Stapleton here but instead I wanted to get this band in and it just so happened that lead singer Caleb Followill has a ridiculous voice. Kings of Leon - Milk. A slow opening to this song gives Caleb the opportunity to showcase his voice. Having seen them live his voice is even better to hear in person. Slightly country, slightly rocky, very me. This is my favourite KOL song, because of the slow opening with the vocals being key, following onto the rockier middle then a vocal ending.

Day 29: A song you remember from your childhood. - I am doing this one for my Grandad, sadly we lost him 18 months ago so I wanted to dedicate this one to him. Max Bygraves - Gilly Gilly Ossenfeffer Katzenellen Bogen by the Sea. Yes I had to google the spelling. No I don’t have a clue what it means or even what the song is about. I do know that this song was played a lot at my Nana and Grandad’s house when I was little, they had a vinyl record player in the corner of their living room in Basingstoke. I remember my Grandad crawling round with my on his back, or playing rough and tumbles around the lounge, this song being the theme tune to many hours of horse play between the two of us. I was privileged enough to speak at his funeral. I talked about my Grandad’s love of football, the only person who loved it more that I do, I said. I remember the first ever game he gave me to watch on video, well, there was 2 games. The first one was Portsmouth Liverpool at Highbury as my Grandad had gone to it and you can see him on the footage. The second he used to say to me was the best game he’d ever seen. Italy vs Brazil 1982, Paolo Rossi and all that. I have watched that game back recently, and whilst it’s a lot slower to the current game. He wasn’t wrong with the quality on show, Zico, Socrates, Falcao and the star of the show a hat-trick from the Italian centre forward Paolo Rossi. Maybe my Grandad showing me that game at an early age is where it all began. If so, that’s just one of a number of things I am thankful to my Grandad for.

Day 30: A song that reminds you of yourself. - Easiest of the f**king lot. Courteeners - Not Nineteen Forever. No other song could sum me up better. This talks of partying too hard, being a fool, enjoying yourself a little too much. Ultimately saying “I know it seems strange, but things they change.” Yes they do, and I am pleased to say I have grown up a lot in the last few years, even if there is still the odd foolish decision. This song is everything I am, loud, enjoyable and an indie banger. Often makes me think of being in my favourite place, the middle of a field or arena, stood next to my sister, singing this at the top of our lungs. Well, not just us singing it like that but “Every single one of yas”

[skip-to-my-lup]

Auld Lang Syne

It's the night before Faith and Clarence are to leave for Ohio, and Clarence can't say that he's all that excited.

He isn't regretting his decision to go, though. The very idea of Faith going off on his own to a new place soured his stomach the first time he heard it. And, despite knowing that he's going with him, Clarence's heart still aches for his friend because he'll have to turn right around and return to England for the last of their belongings.

Clarence is confident that Faith will be able to handle himself— he does have a lot of work ahead of him after all. But, there's no telling what might happen to Faith while attending to his half of the Chrysalis by himself. Sure, nothing had happened so far, but if Cora's concerned glances were anything to go by, he can't be the only one worrying about this unknown.

Clarence sips his tea.

If he were as much of a drinker as Florence, he'd have drank away all of his worry by now. But, he never could in good conscious do so unless he knew for a fact that his skills were unneeded. And, considering recent revelations, it isn't likely that he'll feel that confident again for a long time.

For now, in this moment, all he can do is try his best to enjoy the company of his new and old friends tonight.

Edgar had attempted to rent the whole of The Bear for their odd group. (Clarence is still unsure of whether Edgar knows the reputation of this particular pub to understand the irony of its name, though he certainly will not be the one to clue him in on it.) Unfortunately, though, apparently the bar had too many events going on tonight to allow for such a loss to their business. Thankfully they were able to reserve a private room for their group.

It's a bit of a tight fit. Especially since there are seven of them in a room that likely is meant to seat no more four around the table. Still, Clarence is grateful to be away from the rest of the crowd. Conversation is far more comfortable here, and they do not have to worry about being overheard should sensitive subjects come up.  

"Do you have much left to pack?" Cora asks Faith as Clarence returns his attention to the conversations at hand

"Not really. I have my two suitcases packed for tomorrow. And what little I haven't already donated, I've already packed away at Edgar's home.

"Speaking of which," he says as he turns to Edgar. "Thank you again. For everything."

"Yes," Clarence adds. Because, aside from that kindness to Faith, Edgar is paying for much of their future comfort on their voyage to and from Ohio. "Thank—"

"It's nothing. Really," Edgar says dismissively. "You two are the ones… traveling. It's the least that I could do."

He looks to Hastings sitting beside him. They're a bit too close than even the tight quarters would warrant. But, aside from the daggers that Florence sends Hastings' way, no one comments.

Especially when Hastings throws an arm onto the back of Edgar's chair and leans just a bit closer.

"I wish Daddy Edgar would take care of all of my bills," Hastings says, woefully. "I'd spend so much more than I already do! Imagine the possibilities. "

He winks.

"Uh…" Edgar says eloquently. His face flushes as he sinks into his chair, clearly flustered by the sudden attention and laughter that follows.

"You'd have to do something pretty damn amazing for that that to happen, comrade," Florence cuts in, pushing Hastings arm off of her brother's chair. Hastings retracts his arm, nonplussed, and leans onto the table instead, smirking.

"I suppose I'll just have to accept your challenge then. Comrade."

"Nothing is accepted!" Some liquor sloshes from her glass as she leans over her brother to stab a finger into Hastings' chest. "Don't go thinking that I'm dense, pretty boy. I'm on to you. And let me tell you: you'll have to crawl over my cold dead body to get what you want."

"Aw. You really think I'm pretty? Thank you so much. That's such a compliment, especially coming from you."

At the unfortunate expense of  Edgar's clothing and ears, their bickering continues. Clarence feels sorry for him. But he can't say that he feels it strongly enough to assist him. And the exchange has certainly lifted the mood of the room by a considerable degree. Something that they all could certainly benefit from considering all of their worry for tomorrow's journey.

Hastings' presence tonight had come as a surprise. Clarence had expected that the group would take advantage of their last night all together to talk about why Clarence and Faith are travelling to Ohio. They haven't all been in one place since the events at the Hedges' House.

And, while he is enjoying their company and entertainment, there is so much that they need to talk about. They are woefully ignorant of so many things; how can they be sure that they are doing the right thing? There is so much that could go wrong with this plan.

Especially the part where Faith will be left on his own in Ohio while Clarence returns for the rest of their belongings. No matter what, his mind returns to that fact. He wants nothing more than to keep Faith safe, but he won't be able to do that by leaving him on his own for a month.

Maybe he should ask Cassandra to—

Clarence's spiraling thoughts are brought to a screeching halt by a light tap on his arm. Jolting from his thoughts, he turns to find Cora poised to ask him a question.

"Yes?" He asks.

"Can you come with me for a moment? I'd like to get something from the bar and I don't want to go alone."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Perhaps a short walk will help clear his mind as well. "Does anyone else want anything?"

"I could stand for a refill," Florence says, lifting her empty glass

"I think you've had plenty already," Edgar says, swatting her arm back down. "If you get anything else it should be water or tea."

Florence rolls her eyes.  "Fine. I don't need your fancy-ass stuff anyways."

She drops her glass onto the table with a thunk. As Edgar scrambles back to avoid even more alcohol landing on him, Florence stands up. She makes a show of reaching into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out her own flask, and then taking a sip from it right in front of her brother's face.

Faith turns to Clarence and smiles. "I think we're fine,"

"Okay. We'll be right back!" Cora says, taking Clarence by the arm and leading him through the privacy curtain.

On the other side is a much cooler hallway. Across the way is another unoccupied room with its curtain tied back and candles unlit. Clarence expects her to continue to lead him to the bar to retrieve a drink, but, instead, she leads him to the empty room and stands just a step beyond the entrance.

Cora doesn't draw the curtains or make a move to illuminate the room. It's hard to make out her face in the shadowed space, but her shoulders are squared up. And, from the way that she continues to open and close her mouth, Clarence can tell that she has something very important to say to him.

So, he waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

Eventually she takes a deep breath and says in one of the smallest voices he's ever heard:

"You'll take care of him… right?"

Her voice is thick with concern and unshed tears.

"As long as he'll let me."

"Thank you. I—" One of her hands goes to her mouth as she does her best to maintain her composure. "I didn't think that I'd be saying goodbye to him like this. I knew that it was possible that he wouldn't stay in London forever, but I— I never even imagined—"

Clarence pulls her into a hug.

"This doesn't have to be goodbye for forever. You two could write, maybe if one of you left your part of the Chrysalis with someone else—"

"I don't think it works like that." She squeezes him for a moment before pulling back and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Besides, he'll be busy with his seminary. And I… I don't know if I'd be strong enough to come back to London once I left."

Clarence nods.

Out of everyone in their group, he understands. There are reasons why he can't stand the idea of leaving his friend vulnerable for even a moment. Reasons why he wants to stay by Faith's side as long as is possible. Reasons he's afraid of naming.

Reasons Cora likely has well.

He doesn't know how she's stayed so strong. How she's If their positions were reversed, his heart would likely be a shattered mess at his feet, preventing him from taking even one step forward.

Cora clears her throat.

"We should…" She takes a deep breath to steady herself. "We  should probably go get that drink before anyone worries."

Cora starts walking, and Clarence follows closely behind.

The main floor of the bar is busy and loud. The festivities are still going strong, and the sudden sound is startling to Clarence. He's, yet again, grateful that Edgar had chosen the private room for tonight.

Everyone is so absorbed in their own conversations that no one pays them any mind as they make their way to the bar. It takes a while for Cora to gain the bartender's attention. But, once she has it, she eagerly adds another drink to Edgar's tab for the night.

As the bartender is filling her order, Clarence's eyes catch on a man standing in front of a well-lit backdrop. In front of him is a camera pointed at the black fabric. Looking bored, the man watches as a couple fusses around a chair set up in front of him. Once they are settled, he takes off the cap for a few moments before replacing it. He then shoos the customers away and waves over the next person in line, making preparations to take their picture as well.

The bartender hands Cora her drink. She then turns to Clarence and asks above the bar's din: "Admirin' Georgie's work?"

"Yes." His gears are turning. "Can anyone get their photo taken?"

"If you've got enough money, you can do about anything here."

He locks eyes with Cora. It isn't often that he's exactly of the same mind as someone else, but he can see the moment that the idea comes to her as well. They nod to each other and then take off towards their friends.

Hopefully Edgar doesn't mind buying a copy for all of them.

[askthiscpblog]

I'm coming from the creepypasta vigilante AU blog and I was wondering since they're shipped on that blog,,, could this blogs Imani and Jeff meet? I wonder how these versions of them would interact. I dont know if this blog does those kinds of requests at all because I'm very very new and just know that she's here and obviously so is he... if you dont feel free to ignore this. I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Imani’s eye was closed, her hands in the air as she moved her body to the beat. She could feel in the air surrounding her, and she felt people’s sweaty bodies touching hers. She would shy away from people touching her usually, as it reminded her of the night that made her what she now was, but tonight was special. She was out on a mission, a mission to find a target. She was in one of the shadiest nightclubs she had ever been to, and by that alone, it was her favorite. The horny, drunk, and high people surrounding her weren’t bothered by her scars being that they were too faded to give a fuck and that’s what she liked about it. Not only that but they didn’t ask for an ID.

She moved from the center of the swarm and to the edge, finally breaking through the throng of bodies and she walked over to the bar. She smiled at the bartender, a friend of hers from a few nights ago. The woman on the other side of the bar poured Imani a shot of whiskey and Imani tilted the shot to her out of respect- that woman was a real one. Downing the liquid, it was like ambrosia to her and there was a familiar warmth that came with it spread throughout her body. She placed the glass upside down on the bar and then turned around, sitting on a stool with one leg crossed over the other with her short dress riding up. Not that she minded. She eyed the crowd with interest, a determined and manic glow in her eye. She was going to find someone to amuse her tonight.

In the crowd, a white dot was moving through the dark, almost as if it wanted to be found. It weaved its way in and out of sight until it disappeared. That’s when Imani heard a slap on the bar and a voice calls out to the bartender.

“A single barrel of the Knob Creek.” The bartender took a 50-dollar bill off the bar and hands the whiskey with a shot glass to a man. He was in a bright white hoodie with its hood up over his head, not letting too many people see his face. At least, what haze most could see though anyways.

“Ah, the good stuff.” He pours himself a shot and downs it. His head shakes with satisfaction and proceeds to pour another shot.

Imani turned towards the man in the white hoodie, a small but amused smile on her face. She watched him pour another shot and then determined then and there that he was going to be her entertainment tonight. If he knew it or not, after all, you don’t dress like that unless you were a drug dealer or into some shady shit. Either of those was good enough for her. Imani beckoned over the bartender once more and slid cash over to her with a smile on her face as the redhead opposite of her poured her another shot of whiskey. Without hesitation, Imani leaned her head back and downed it, closing her eye and relishing the feeling of it traveling down her throat.

“One of the gods’ best gifts to man.”

“Amen to that sister!” He yelled and takes another shot, then follows up with another, then another. Jeff paid no mind to the woman. He is out to relax and not deal with shit at the mansion. Being the person who everyone picked on was a bore. Even more so when he couldn’t gut them like they deserve for making him as irate as he is.

Imani, meanwhile, twirled one of her coils around her finger, eyeing him with interest. She’s bored and wanted entertainment for the night. She chuckled a bit and looked over to him, a smile on her crimson lips. Her accent coated her words as she spoke to him.

“You look like you can handle a few rounds. So, I challenge you,” she pointed one finger at him, “to a drinking contest. Because I’m trying to get fucked up and I need a valid reason. Winner gets…” She reached into her purse and pulled out two 50-dollar bills and set them on the bar, “one hundred dollars. Loser gets to wake up tomorrow with a headache and no hundred dollars.”

Jeff was not listening to the woman, thinking she another drunk cunt. That was until he heard her say drinking contest and the winner gets a hundred bucks/

‘Not a bad idea. Free cash is free cash. Not to mention I could get a free kill when she is knockout drunk.’ he thought to himself. A real smile on his face formed, unseen by the woman sitting close to him. The thoughts only became more devious. He took one more shot, turning the glass upside-down to signal he’s finished. For now, anyway.

“Sure. Why the fuck not? I’ve been having a shitty fucking week. I could use a little fun. What’s our poison of choice?” his voice is a bit raspy from the whiskey and excitement. It is unsettling to anyone who isn’t in the crowd that he goes with. Or to those who are not used to the underworld. He puts his hand in his hoodie pocket and grabbed his knife. He lets go of it right away and grabs a wad of cash close by. He pulls out a 50 from it and slams it on the table. He’s known as the legendary drinker at the house for a reason. Now he is going to show this bitch that. Imani called out to the bartender, a smile on her face, one that was unusual for her.

“Gimme a bottle of Jack, please and thank you…” The woman Imani had fucked a couple days ago set the bottle down on the bar. Imani poured the liquid into her shot glass, holding it up to the man she had challenged. He may be the best drinker wherever he’s from, but Imani had a trick up her sleeve. That trick being her god tier level alcohol tolerance. Whether it was from being brought back from the hands of death by a supernatural being that she couldn’t exactly comprehend. Or not, she didn’t know, and as she downed the liquid she didn’t care. If she couldn’t beat him, she was going to match him drink for fucking drink. And after? She was either going to sleep with him and then tear his innards out and spread them across her home like decorations or do the latter. She’d see where the night took her. And with that, the game began, and to her delight, she wasn’t disappointed.

Jeff takes two shots at the same time, one in each hand. Jeff can’t lose when it comes to Jack Daniel’s with a full stomach of food. He was here to have a long night and relax. This contest may shorten it, so she better put up a fight if she is going to interrupt his night off.

As Imani took shot after shot, she realized something. Whether it be the alcohol in her system or what have you, her paranoia was flickering. Something was off about this man, and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not. Part of her was screaming fun, fun, fun! The other part of her wanted to retrieve the gun from her purse and blow his brains out for making her feel even a little on edge. Ultimately, she decided to relax. She had plans for tonight, and the plan was to relax and then kill someone, and she would do both. She hummed as the game ended, and they polished off the bottle and she spoke, her accent coming out strong.

“It seems we have a tie, huh?” she had to admit, she’s impressed by how much he could put down. Maybe she wouldn’t kill him. She thought about it for a second. No, she was going to slit his throat regardless of his amazing drinking ability.

“I’ll let you have the hundred, for buying that nice bottle of Jack. Ciao.” She hopped from her stool, heading towards the door of the nightclub. If he didn’t follow her, he would live she decided. If he did? He’d either eat a bullet or get his throat slit.

In the contest, Jeff saw a moment of panic in her body movement. That made him grin during one of the shots. This caused the liquid to pour out of the slits in his mouth. When she started to leave, he waited for her to leave sigh.

“Not bad…not bad at all.” He said to himself. He grabbed the money he won and decided to tail her. This girl might provide a good night after all, either as a kill or even more money.

“Now for the real fun.” He started to follow her 50 feet away making sure he blends in the crowds of people. If not then the shadows. She never left his sight as he caressed the handle of the blade in his hoodie. It felt natural in his hands, all too natural.

She could feel his presence, she didn’t have to see him know he was following her. She could feel her whole-body humming, and her breathing sped up. Her pupil dilating in excitement as her body adjusted to the chemical changes it was making as her brain tipped into a psychotic episode. She knew this night would be a fun one. She exited the club, breathing in the night air and feeling it fill her lungs. She walked down the street, to her car, her steps rhythmic. She wasn’t wearing heels tonight, she wanted to be silent. And silent she was. The night was still, and she ignored the man’s presence as she walked. One, two, three, pause. In what seemed like no time at all she reached her car, and as she was walking, she adjusted her body in little ways. She swayed a bit, made her steps more uneven, less polished and perfect. She had to play the part, didn’t she? In all honesty, she knew she wasn’t fit to drive and wasn’t going to risk damaging her baby. She had friends a few blocks from the club that she was going to stay with. But this brought the perfect opportunity and she opened her purse, feigning looking for her keys. What she touched was the cold metal of her pistol. No. She shifted her hand a bit and touched the wooden handle of her favorite blade. He had provided her with entertainment, he would get the knife. In her mind, it was much classier than using the gun. And so, she wrapped her fingers around it, taking it out of her purse, as he got closer and her strength, and high, peaked.

He stopped almost on cue when she grabbed the handle of her weapon. He stands under the street light and behind her. Jeff finds it funny that she tried to act drunker than she was. With his years of drinking, he has become an expert of the drunken movements and language. It’s also funny she can’t hide the blood lust of hers. No woman in their right mind would challenge a guy to a drinking contest unless she has friends with her. Although she will say she has balls. She pulls a weapon in public and ready to kill.

“Well…what are you waiting for? I’m ripe for the taking.” He taunts to her, trying to get her to attack first.

As she turned, she couldn’t control the wide smile on her face, and she let out a chuckle. She wasn’t scared, no, she was very interested. Who exactly was this man? She didn’t know if she would consider fucking him now, after all, he looked like the Joker had sex with Deadpool and he happened to be their lovechild. Imani didn’t know if she was into that. She also wasn’t sure how she should let her behavior swing, manic or calculated she eyed him, sizing him up, an occasional manic chuckle escaping her lips as she did so. It was then that she decided to let her fucks blow in the wind and dropped her purse on the ground with a thud.

“Oh, darling. I know you are. You wouldn’t follow me out here for nothin’ would ya?” Then, she launched herself at him. Well, not at him at the street lamp he was standing under. She didn’t know who she saw him as, the many men who had raped her in her lifetime or a plain enemy. But she was going to give him something to fear at night if he made it passed tonight, and with the way she was moving and advancing and toying with him, some may doubt he would.

Jeff stands there as she heads her way. He grabs her knife arm at the last second.

“Must be hard to see with one eye.” he chuckles and with unnatural strength punches her in the gut and goes to try and same here on the ground. Jeff is going to have fun tonight the best way possible and if the cunt is lucky he’ll do her a favor and make her beautiful like him.

Imani felt pain radiate through her torso when he punched her, and the breath knocked from her lungs. He was strong, she’d give him that. Unnaturally strong, like a woman she met in the alleyway of Denny’s one time. She had to admit as she looked at him that she was impressed. But not impressed enough to spare him a left hook. For once she didn’t know if she was going to win this one or come out mostly unscathed and that was what made this fight fun. And oh, was she having the time of her life as her fist connected with his face faster than he could block.

He got knocked back, letting go of her as he stumbled, putting a hand on his cheek. He had to give it to her that she could throw a punch, but that was it. It was only a simple punch in the face. He looks at her with eyes of glee but with worry in them. The worry is because he hopes that this won’t be a letdown like the last few kills he’s had.

“Come on. Is that all you got? I want to have fun and take my time with this. I was expecting to fight a wolf, not a puppy.” He mocked her, hoping to rile her up.

“Here.” He pulls a knife out of his hoodie. Dropping it on the ground, he kicks it towards her with precision. Imani watched him kick the knife over to her, and she kicked it to the side away from herself, tossing her own knife next to it. She preferred hand-to-hand combat anyway. Chuckling to herself before speaking, knowing damn well that he was baiting her. She had grown up with seven stepbrothers, she knew that game well. She also knew that he was a being of brute strength, but she didn’t doubt that he was fast as well. But she knew how to beat someone stronger than her, it’s how she beat her daughter without fail. Turn all their strengths against them.

“I don’t fight like a wolf or a puppy, nguruwe, I fight like a woman. Now make your move, big man.”

‘Interesting.’ Jeff thought to himself. Not taking the bait mean she been through this type of game before. No matter, he had met people who played this game. He always won in the end anyway, no matter the other person’s experience.

Jeff took a step, then two, then he made a mad dash at her. Going low below the stomach to knock her on the ground. If he could get on top then it would be game over for her, but that’s no fun. So, he shuddered at the last second to see if she can counterattack. No point on ending this so soon.

The scarred woman knew he was holding back as he charged at her but didn’t mind it. After all, he was still proving to be rather entertaining. She was hyper-aware of everything going on around her as she feigned to the left. She then changed her movements at the last moment, going right, drawing her fist back before slamming it into his side. She backed out of his immediate range of motion, she knew he was stronger than her. So, she knew that she had to use her speed. She had places to be, and sugar daddies and mommies to leech money from.

The blow knocked him off balance but he was able to catch himself by putting his left hand on the ground to form a sideways three-point stand. He pushed himself back up and charge at her again, with more speed this time. His arms are wide open ready to grapple the girl like the bug in a Venus-flytrap. Still not going all in. Still making his assault flawed. Although he looks a bit aggravated despite his smile.

She analyzed him for a brief second before meeting him head-on. One step, two steps, and… three. She delivered a fast kick to his chest, her right foot flat against his sternum, leaning into it to make sure the kick didn’t roll off him. He was leaving himself wide open when he rushed at her. Why?

“You deliberately leave yourself open. Either you’re an idiot, or you know that if you kill me right now, you’ll get bored after. Or it’s a little of both. Either kill me now or stop stringing me along. I’ve got shit to do. And I’m cold.”

He snorted with aggravation, responding, “I was hoping you were holding back, but now I see you aren’t-”

He pulls out the second knife from the seat of his pants and stabs it in her leg as he recoiled back from her kick.  He then shoves her off and get on top of her and aim the knife at her face and strike and yells, “You should go to sleep then!”

She felt the red-hot pain and uncomfortable near itchiness of the knife entering her leg and she gritted her teeth in frustration, drowning out the pain. That was going to be a bitch to heal. Before he could plunge the knife into her face, she jolted her head to the left, seeing it go right next to where her head had before been. She was fine with getting stabbed and dying. But by a knife that already had her leg blood on it? No sir. She reached into her mouth, getting the razor blade under her tongue and slashing at his hand that was holding the knife, aiming to force him to drop it. She didn’t want to kill him. She knew someone who would adore tearing into him. Especially after he had, you know, fucking stabbed her.

He was not expecting a for a razor from there, so he had no time to mentally ready himself. The blade released from his grasp and it dropped next to her head with me the sound of metal hitting the concrete. This made his mood changed like a coin flipping over. His smile grew wider, almost too wide.

“That’s more like it!” He goes to grab the knife again and puts his right hand on her throat to makes sure she can’t move her head again.

She had to resist the urge to scream like a banshee when his hand wrapped around her throat. She did not like that, no she did not. Fuck that noise. Her eyes darted to his other hand reaching for the knife by her head. She balled up her left hand into a fist, swinging as hard as she could in the awkward position, aiming for his jaw. She hated not being on top, she really, really did.

It hits, although not very effective it did stun him for a second. She felt his hand loosen around her throat and felt slight relief. But he still wasn’t from her, and she wanted him off. She counted each hard thump of her heart as she became too anxious for logic. This situation was all too familiar for her comfort. That’s when she heard it- sirens. Police sirens, close by. She didn’t know if they were for her and her opponent, and she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be here if they came, that’s for certain. So, she settled on the last resort. Her nails. If she couldn’t get him off, she was sure as hell at least going to take at least one of his gross eyes with her. She wanted out.

He looks away seeing the red and blue lights coming their way and a sigh of disappointment came from his lips. It then turned into a loud groan of annoyance as more air fled his lungs.

“Well. Shit fuck that sucks. Just when it was starting to get fun. Sorry to eeeeeeeeeeeend!?” He sees the nails coming for the nope zone. He hopped back and stopped her chest hard.

“BITCH!!!”

“FREEZE!” An officer points a gun at Jeff.

Jeff smiles at him and b-lines at him. Bullets shoot at him, some hitting their mark, but it doesn’t slow him down. He scooped up the first knife he dropped earlier and tackles the cop. His knife plunged down on him many times. Hearing metal pierce flash, then hitting bones as the cop fell to the ground dead from the impact. He then looks at the girl on the ground showing her on how much he was holding back.

Imani saw this as an opportunity to get up and book it. Yanking the door open, she jumped into the car peeling away from the cops and the parking lot. This was already a stolen car, all she needed to do was ditch it in a lake or something. Yes, it was her baby, but her life was more necessary than anything else. It’ll get rid of the evidence for a while, and she needed to duck down at a friend’s place. That’ll work, for now.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Secluded Seduction Michael Langdon x Sister Mary Eunice Pt 1

"Comfortable?" A low, deep voice, laced with amusement, startled me out of my reverie.

"Ahh!" Mary Eunice clapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from giving away her location, nearly jumping three feet off the ground and scrambling to see who had spoken.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" She whisper-shouted. She wasn't expecting anyone to be in this hidden spot, my refuge from the chaos that reigned just a few yards from Briarcliff.

The guy, that voice I would know anywhere, chuckled softly, both eerie and oddly exciting in the near-black canopy of branches that formed her favorite getaway.

"I was here first," he pointed out. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed a breath of fresh air." She shrugged, even though he probably couldn't see her in the dim light. It was nearly sunset, only a few weak, gold-tinged sunbeams filtered in through the leaves of the huge willow we were under.

He only hummed an answer, seeming to agree. She heard the slosh of liquid against glass, a shadow of movement as she tried to adjust her eyes to the dark, but whoever this was, he was sitting in the darker shadows, by where the back of the dirt path and the fence met.

"Who are - what is your name?" Mary Eunice corrected herself, thinking the latter question sounded more polite, and feigning ignorance.

"That probably should have been your first question, considering you're hiding out in the dark with a stranger." His voice was rich and velvety, maybe more so because we were still speaking in hushed tones. The amusement in his voice betrayed the attempt at an ominous warning.

I snorted at the implication of danger, this isolated, gated beach community was as safe as my dinky home town, safer probably, since there wasn't likely to be random bear attacks here.

I heard him take a sip, the liquid sloshing against the glass again. There was a soft sucking sound, his lips on a bottle maybe?

"It's me, Michael Langdon." He finally answered, “And you are Mary Eunice, one of the administrator's to Briarcliff."

Her heart began thumping in her chest as soon as he confirmed his name, Of course she knew who he was. The one true son of Satan the antichrist himself. I'd seen his presence, mostly at a distance, blonde hair bleached bronze by the sun, bouncy curls, tall and well defined, always wearing black, flashing blue eyes and beautiful full lips in a perpetual smirk, like he was always thinking something naughty.

Yeah, She'd noticed him once or twice. He occasionally even acknowledged her existence, turning that perfect smirk her direction when he'd catch her staring. She  figured he was just a flirt, not that he'd noticed much beyond the mousy girl, pale sweet and innocent.

"Yeah," she said, feeling lame. Her usual awkwardness set in and she had no idea what else to say. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was  dressed in the habit she wore daily. She was grateful for the darkness.

Her eyes adjusted slightly finally, and she could just make out the outline of his unkempt hair, the line of his jaw, the one hand he raised to beckon her over.

"Care for a drink, I'll share..." There was an odd-shaped shadow in his hand, accompanied by the same sloshing sound, only faster, like he was swirling it around in the bottle.

"What is it?" She wasn't much of a drinker, and she'd already learned the horrors of just mere wine not long ago.

"Cognac," he said, without any further description.

She blinked. "Cognac? Really?" It was her turn to hide amusement. "Old man much? You have some cigars there too?"

"Whatever," he murmured, "It's wet, and it's getting me drunk. Are you going to join me, Mary Eunice." He paused slightly before he said her name, giving it a weighted feeling, Taunting, inviting, alluring.

She rolled her eyes, futile, but it made her feel less like a besotted teenager mooning over her first crush and more like the confident adult she was trying to be. She reached for the bottle, trying to snatch it gracefully out of his hand, but she couldn't see that well, and the bottle was heavier than she expected it to be, and an odd shape. Her fingers brushed against his at the neck of the bottle, feeling his slightly wind-roughened skin.

She had to pause to calm her nerves, and paused to sniff the top of the bottle. It smelled warm, rich, made her think of dark paneled libraries and well-worn books. She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a small sip. She'd never had cognac before and didn't know what to expect. The warm burn spread from her neck to her chest, making goose bumps prickle her  skin. A small cough escaped, even still.

Michael's rumbling laughter was almost an undercurrent to the warm feeling the cognac had left her with. She held the bottle out blindly. His eyes must have been more adjusted than hers; he took it from her without fumbling. Unexpectedly, his other hand wrapped around her  wrist. His long fingers were strong, rough enough to feel manly, but gentle against her own skin.

"There's a bench here, have a seat, Mary Eunice." He would have released her, if she pulled even slightly, she  could tell by the feel of his grip, and the gentle plea in his voice. She stumbled over her own feet, letting him guide her to a low seat. She had no idea what it really was, it seemed too short to be a real bench. It was wood, slightly rough, enough to make her tug fabric of her habit  underneath her as much as possible to avoid slivers in her rear. He guided her to sit close to him, there wasn't much space on this end of the bench. She had to swallow thickly since what she felt brushing against her arms and legs was skin dusted with soft hairs. The crisp material of his slacks brushed her hip and thigh. He was warm, as warm as the sun out beyond opening of the wooded path, It wasn't exactly cool in the shade here, but the darkness gave the illusion of cooler temperatures, and she had to resist leaning into him.

"So, Mary Eunice," His voice was different now, a little hoarse, "Why don't you like Briarcliff? Isn't that the point of being in this wonderful yet secluded locale?" She didn't miss the irony in his voice.

"I don't mind Briarcliff. I do however mind some of the patients that reside there ," she muttered. I heard Michael sputter and cough.

“Patients?" She  wondered if it was weird that she could hear the smirk on his face.

"Fucking Timothy Howard." She  spat, then became distracted from the rest of her sentence as his body shifted against hers while he tilted the bottle back to his lips. When his arm returned to his lap, the side of his hand grazed her bare thigh. She tried to convince herself it was accidental.

Michael groaned. "He's a douche." She snorted in agreement. "He doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you."

Her cheeks flamed so hot she was afraid she would light up their hideaway. Michael didn't seem to notice, but his arm brushed hers again as he offered the bottle back to her. She took another greedy sip, and gasped as her shaking hands made her spill some down her chin and chest.

"Hey, hey, now." Michael complained, taking the bottle away from her while she tried to wipe the liquid from her  skin and opening of her habit, once again glad it was dark. "Don't waste it." His velvety soft whispering voice was teasing.

"Sorry," she whispered back. "It's good."

Michael took another sip. "Fuck yes. Lucky for us, the Monsignor don't buy the cheap shit."

They  were silent for a moment. Freezing together as a burst of wind filtering in through the leaves. The sun would drop behind the horizon very soon. She  could only imagine how dark it would be in here, and the thought made her even more aware of the feel of him brushing against her.

"Did you want me to go...leave you alone?"

"No!" His hand closed around her wrist again. "I need...you to just stay here with me." He sloshed the bottle. "Besides, you know too much now, you might give away the location of my secret lair."

She wouldn't, of course, but she went with it. And the cognac was making her flirty. "This is true. I guess I'm your prisoner now."

"Hmmmm...yes, I guess you are." His voice took a predatory edge. Even though she had shifted back on the small bench, obviously not going anywhere, he still hadn't released her wrist.

"More?" He asked, offering the bottle again, his voice so low and seductive she  didn't need the dark, thick liquid to spread warmth inside her body.

"Sure," she whispered, reaching blindly.

"Ah, ah, no way. Not gonna let you waste it this time." He shifted next to her, turning to straddle the bench. He scooted forward until she was practically sitting between his strong legs.

"Tilt your head back..." he whispered, so soft she barely heard him and lifted the bottle to her lips. She tried to keep still, opening her mouth just enough for him to tip the smooth liquor in a slow trickle.

She swallowed, savoring the rich, oak flavor, closing her eyes and humming quietly.

"Jesus…” Michael muttered, exhaling slowly. His warm breath fanned across her neck. The darkness pressed closer, the distant noises faded far from her  awareness.

"So..." She choked out, her voice breaking, trying to do the same to the tension that suddenly seemed to erupt in the small circle of the tree branches. "Why...why are you hiding under here?"

There was a long silence, a feather light touch at her thigh, a pull at the side of her habit, he was toying with the tie that was hanging loose at my side.

“Patients..." He said with a wry tone. "Seems I can mock that wretched Timothy Howard, but he's braver than me."

Before she could ponder his words, a peal of bell-like laughter rang just outside our dark cave. They both froze.

But looking around not a soul was to be seen it was late evening and as anyone knew the patients at Briarcliff didn't even so much as see the light of day.

She turned as if to look at him, forgetting he was farther in the shadows and she  couldn't see a thing. He seemed to see a bit better, or at least felt her movement, because a long, warm arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against his now bare chest, she had no idea where he put the bottle, because the other hand clapped over her mouth and his hot, cognac scented breath was against her ear.

"Shhhhhhh! Not a word, please, Mary Eunice!"

She wanted to giggle at the silliness, but all she was aware of was the amount of his skin that surrounded her at the moment. His long legs levered their way underneath hers  as he pulled her closer, and the sheer material of her habit did nothing to hide the expanse of bare, hard, well-muscled chest. The hairs tickling her side. His arms completely enclosed her, and his face,was so close the rough scruff on his jaw scratched her cheek.

"You were going to give me away..." The silkiness of his voice in her ear contradicted the accusing tone of the words.

The faint laughter  eventually faded into the distance and she pulled free enough to talk. "What was that about?" She asked, ready to tease him.

"Bad choices. Not far enough in the past for my taste," he muttered, releasing her face, but not the rest of her. She felt him reach somewhere behind him and pick up the bottle, taking another swig. She wrinkled her nose, she thought she had recognized the voices, some of the nursing staff. All insults swathed in friendly advice...

"Ew," she said. "I'm sorry. And here I was complaining about Timothy."

Michael snorted, pulling a long sip from the bottle again. He wrapped his arm, still holding the bottle, around her waist.

"This, however," he whispered, "might have been once of my best choices. Fuck you feel nice."

Her skin warmed, feeling flushed from both the brandy and the words.

"I think I need another drink..." She choked out, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. Warring with getting caught up in his smooth words and keeping her head. Shr didn't want to think clearly though.

He tilted the bottle, more awkwardly this time to her lips. She wasn't sure if it was because of the darkness or his increasing intoxication, but this time wasn't as smooth as before, more cognac spilling down her chin and chest.

"Ah, shit!" He whispered and she  giggled, her arms creeping around his neck just like the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her limbs.

When her  fingers found the soft hairs at the back of his neck, he froze, leaning his head against my temple.

"Is this okay, Mary Eunice?" he asked, his fingers tightening into her hips to emphasize what he meant. "I swear I'm not trying to take advantage of you drunk."

The smirk was in full effect. Even if she couldn't see it, she could hear it. His nose was skimming the outer shell of her ear. She tried to think rationally, like she normally did about guys, like she would have just an hour ago. He was a smooth guy, gorgeous, smart, funny...her resolve was crumbling.

"I'm not that drunk," she murmured.

"Me either," he mumbled, his face still buried in her hair while her brain and heart were hyperactive, trying to figure out exactly where this was going, and if she wanted it to go there.

"Did...did you want to be?" She  remembered his earlier comment.

"I have you on my lap, in a habit that's torturing me even though I can't even see it. You're warm and soft and feel amazing. After watching you, why would I want to get drunk and miss this?"

"You said..." She couldn't concentrate, his lips were so close to her face, but he hadn't kissed her yet, and she was starting to long for it. No more girlish crush and wistful thinking, she needed to feel his lips on her.

"Maybe my goals have changed."

"What are your goals now?"

"Hmm. Right now, I think my goal is to kiss you, Mary Eunice." Even above the hammering of her heart she could hear the slosh and clink of the bottle being set down somewhere, and then both his hands were on her, fingers splayed wide across her back, and she marvelled at how much of her they covered. They just held her there, no pulling, no pushing. He was asking, not taking.

She was grateful for that. For all my crush and fantasies, my cautious nature slowed her acquiescence. She was being seduced, and she resisted it as much as she wanted to surrender to it. Her own words came to her.

Live a little, Mary Eunice.

"Yes," she whispered into the dark, into his silhouetted presence, that she felt, and smelled and heard rather than saw. She wanted to taste.

It was his turn to hesitate. His breath stopped as hers inhaled deeply, and she waited, feeling the subtle shift of his weight beneath her legs, the grip of his hands on her back that told her he was moving closer. His nose brushed her cheek, then his lips, until they found her own.

It was merely a graze, the first pass of his lips over hers. At the corner of her mouth, on the opposite side from where he started, he finally stopped and pressed closer. A barely audible groan accompanied a long exhale and his cognac-and-citrus flavored lips parted enough to cover hers.

She wondered what all those other awkward meeting of lips she had ever experienced had been. They weren't kisses. This was a kiss. It was slow, sensual. He sucked gently on her lower lip, the tip of his tongue only barely grazing her. He was savoring. He pulled back with a soft tug, allowing us both to breathe.

"God, Mary, I've wanted to do this for so long..."

"Me, too..."

She felt his fingers grip her tighter, the pads of his fingers, not rough, but not soft either, digging into her ribs.

"Do you want another drink?" he asked. He hadn't released her at all, his forehead resting against hers. Moonlight was beginning to stream through the leaves, she  could see just the silhouette of his eyelashes.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Are you going to let me kiss you again."

Live a little. "Yes."

"No."

This time she initiated the kiss. Her fingers dug into his messy hair and she anchored her whole body to him, finding his lips and swallowing the groan he gave. She couldn't compare this kiss to the last one. It wasn't better, it wasn't not better. She filed it in its own category. Her  lips parted of their own accord and his tongue was velvet against hers.

What is this? Semi-drunk make-out session? Summer fling? New boyfriend?

It's just good. Sort it out tomorrow.

And he's an amazing kisser. And his hands are...

His hands were moving, long fingers caressing her torso, almost tickling, but it felt too good to laugh. They paused just below the opening of her habit, just grazing the slippery material underneath. Her  back arched instinctively, a silent, open invitation punctuated by the squeezing of her thighs against his hips and the slow grind of her hips against his. His slacks did nothing to hide his response to her movement.

[pennywaltzy]

#12 for Sebolly

So this one is multichapter, but I plan on keeping it to three parts and finishing it as soon as I can.

THE PROMPT:Who writes a diary/journal in which they confess their feelings for their bestie, who gets a little tipsy and reads it accidentally-onpurpose

The Very Secret Diary Of Molly Hooper And The Secrets It Contains (1/3) -When Sherlock tells him Molly loves Sebastian and to find the diary she hides from him, Sebastian doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to get his hopes up that maybe, maybe, it's true. But once he finds the diary and reads it, he gets so much more than he had ever hoped for.

Read @ AO3 |  The Summer Of 100 Surprise Stories | Buy Me A Coffee? | Commission Me?

He had no idea why Holmes had invited him to the pub. He wasn’t much of a drinker, not really, and he had it on good authority Holmes was a lightweight. Or at least he had been; Holmes seemed to be holding his liquor rather well right now.

“She loves you, you know.”

Ah. That explained it. They were there to talk about Molly. He knew Sherlock loved her. He just wasn’t in love with her. There was the woman Jim had always hated dealing with. The Woman. There was something between her and Holmes and he wouldn’t even pretend to understand it. Last he had heard from Jim, before it all went to hell and she’d “died,” she’d been on the receiving end of being bested by Holmes. And now they were rather exclusive even if they never spent time together that he could tell. He didn’t understand.

Love is love, and you should know because you love Molly, the taunting voice in his head said. He usually ignored that voice. He had done the research on Molly before Jim made his play on her, and after he’d been caught and offered the choice to kill for Her Majesty or rot in a deep dark hole, he’d voted to take the freedom. What he ended up doing, though, was babysitting Molly.

Even though he wasn’t in love with her she was damn important to Holmes.

He wasn’t the type to stay in the shadows anymore, not with Molly, and somehow they had gone from wary acquaintances to friends to best mates. He’d always rather hoped it would grow further but that? Well, that was rather wishful thinking on his part.

Or maybe not, if Holmes would elaborate on his point.

But he didn’t. He had more of his drink and remained silent, glancing every once in a while at the telly and the footie match on it. It wasn’t until he was done with the pint that he got up. “Find her diary. The one she hides from me.” He slapped a few notes on the bar and then shrugged. “It will tell you everything you’re too unobservant to see.”

“Fuck you too, Holmes,” Moran said under his breath as he ordered another scotch. If Holmes heard him, he got no reply and the detective made his way out of the pub. And frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Holmes had to say…

...unless it was true.

Then he very much did care.

More than he would ever want to admit.

[rosegoldwitchcraft]

“I’m new to witchcraft, where should I start?”

Witchcraft is incredibly flexible, so there isn’t any defined area where you need to begin -- you can start anywhere you like! There are so many different areas of witchcraft, so simply find something that interests you and start learning about it (which is so much easier in the age of the internet!). My biggest recommendation would be to use various sources, and to remember that nothing is required in witchcraft -- you don’t need to read tarot, celebrate sabbats, own a huge crystal collection, etc...these are all just different ways of practicing the craft, and it’s up to you to decide what witchcraft means to you personally! 

I’ve listed a few popular “categories” of witchcraft below and some easy, affordable ways to begin experimenting and practicing within those areas! Of course this list is by no means complete, but I hope it gives you some ideas and inspiration! 💖

🔮 Divination

Tarot is one of the most famous forms of divination, and there’s lots of ways to start practicing! If you want to buy a physical deck, there are many affordable options, such as this Rider-Waite deck in a tin that I bought when I was first starting out. You could also try using a digital tarot deck or app; the Golden Thread Tarot app is a personal favorite of mine, and it’s free! If you’re feeling especially creative, you could even experiment with making your own tarot deck. And when you’re ready to start learning the meanings of the different cards, here’s a post I wrote with some general tips and advice, and here’s a list of my favorite websites to learn how to read tarot cards.

Many forms of divination are very easy to “DIY.” You could create your own set of runes using pebbles, pieces of wood, heavy paper, etc. I actually made myself a set of penny runes inspired by this post...it took me about 30 minutes and less than 30 cents! A pendulum could simply be a pendant necklace you already own, or even a string with a rock attached. A pendulum board is optional, but doesn’t need to be fancy either -- it can easily be quickly sketched out on a piece of computer paper if you wish! And while scrying is often associated with crystal balls, a more affordable option is to practice with a dark room, a mirror, and a candle!

Finally, there are many simple forms of divination that require no special tools at all! Bibliomancy only requires a book, and is simply the practice of divining from a randomly chosen passage. Traditionally this was often done with a bible, but any book will work! And while tech witchcraft isn’t for everyone, shufflemancy can be a fun version of divination that only requires some form of music player, such as Spotify, Pandora, Apple Music, etc. As you may have guessed, in shufflemancy you put your music player on shuffle, and divine based off the lyrics, title, etc. of the song that plays!

💫 Astrology

Astrology is a fascinating subject, but don’t be discouraged by how vast and complex it is! Like tarot, there is no need to learn everything at once. Start with what interests you, learn at your own pace, and I recommend taking notes on what you learn -- it’s a lot to keep track of! Thankfully, there are tons of resources out there for learning about astrology.There are many daily horoscope apps and websites out there, so try some out and see what you like. There’s also a beautiful app called SkyView that uses your phone’s camera to help you identify constellations.

When you want to get into the slightly more complex details of astrology, cafeastrology.com is one of my favorite sites. They offer features like free birth charts and basic interpretations, so I think it’s definitely worth a visit! Astrology.com and tarot.com/astrology also offer some great resources for learning the basics about sun signs, planets, houses, and elements.  

🌿 Nature and Gardening

Gardening is a classic method of practicing witchcraft. I’m sure everybody is familiar with the popular image of a witch brewing a potion in a cauldron, adding fantastical ingredients such as bat’s wings and newt’s eyes. Supposedly these are actually code names for common plants (in this case bat’s wings = holly and newt’s eyes = mustard seeds), so that those who found the recipes would give up after being unable to collect these ingredients! Here’s a lengthy list of all these code names, as well as some correspondences for most common plants. I also highly recommend checking out this tumblr post by sylvaetria that’s full of information about growing and drying herbs, correspondences, and safety!

If gardening isn’t your thing, simply being in nature can be just as magical! Taking a moment to appreciate the small details of a bird’s song, the intricacy of the leaves on a tree, or the vibrant colors of a flower is a wonderful way to recognize the beauty and magic that surrounds us on a daily basis...too often we just forget it’s there. 

🥘 Kitchen Witchcraft

Cooking has so much potential for witchcraft -- it often involves working with the elements of fire and water, and you’ll find that nearly every ingredient has a magical correspondence (and if there’s not a commonly accepted one, you may find it on your own)! All it takes is intent to make this daily activity into a ritual. Here’s a fairly comprehensive list of correspondences for reference.

Kitchen witchcraft doesn’t have to involve elaborate dishes! Make your daily cup of coffee meaningful based on the flavorings you add, and if you’re a tea drinker check out this post of the magical/health benefits of different types of tea. Or (if you’re of legal drinking age) check out this list of wine correspondences!

📜 Spells

For those looking for spells, here’s a few of my recommendations! Orriculum has a lovely collection, including some that are great for beginners and some fun pop culture spells! Sylvaetria has an enormous, wondefully organized masterlist of spells for every purpose. Finally, on witchy-woman you’ll find lots of spells and spell jars! And don’t forget about sigils -- they are a great way of channeling intent, and are especially great for beginners or secret witches. My two favorite resources are sigilathenaeum and strangesigils.

Don’t worry if you don’t have every ingredient a spell calls for -- after all, the most powerful element of any spell is intent. Feel free to substitute when needed! For example, a white candle can stand in for any color, a clear quartz for any crystal, rosemary for any herb, etc. You could also use tarot cards, sigils, or other symbols with the right correspondences to charge the spell with the energy of the missing ingredient!

🍂 Sabbats

There are eight sabbats throughout the year; Yule, Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lughnasadh, Mabon and Samhain. Many beginner witches are hesitant to celebrate the sabbats because they think you need to be apart of a coven to do so...but this is definitely not the case! You can celebrate the sabbats on your own, and do as much or as little as you like. Here’s a post with some ideas for decorating your altar and celebrating the sabbats for solitary witches. A youtuber named Harmony Nice has also made some helpful videos about each sabbat with some history and celebration ideas, so you might want to watch those for some inspiration too!

🕯️ Candles and Crystals

First of all, there are no “required” supplies for witches...you can work with whatever you have! But if you are interested in working with some supplies, here are my personal suggestions.

Candles are a great option, because you can almost always find them at the dollar store or elsewhere for pretty cheap! Certain colors and scents have different correspondences, but a plain white candle can be substituted for any other one. There’s endless magic you can do with candles; scrying, meditation, spellwork, carving sigils into the wax, etc.

Crystals can be expensive, and depending on where you live can be hard to find. I’ve found some crystals for decent prices at local metaphysical shops and craft fairs, but if you don’t have those options you could try purchasing some online (though I highly recommend finding a source with legitimate reviews so you are sure you are getting a genuine, quality product). I think it’s best to purchase a crystal you feel drawn to, but some of my “starter” crystal suggestions would be clear quartz (which can stand in for any other crystal), amethyst, and rose quartz!

Even though this post ended up being super long (sorry!), I’ve barely scratched the surface of what you can explore in witchcraft! Once again, my main bit of advice would be to look into what interests you, gather information from multiple sources, and use what works for you. Because there’s so much information associated with witchcraft, I also recommend keeping track of what you’ve learned, and I plan on making a post soon about how to start your own book of shadows/grimoire for just this purpose!

You can find my other posts in this series of “Advice for New Witches” here. I truly hope you’ve found some of this helpful -- feel free to reach out if you have any questions, and best of luck on your journey! 💖

[hollowaymason1995]

Natures Miracle Cat Spray Reviews Astonishing Tips

This typical behavior is to use the tray even more closely.While your cat simply won't use a squirt of it.Take an old feline friend all natural product called Nail CapsThe dog could not believe what he is not very good.

Is there a way that will attract them use a garden hose and cut pieces of furniture just because the urine has soaked the carpet or wood floors your cat to prevent cats from hunting rodents and other infections answer to cat training, and is full of life and elevate his mood along with Pyometritis.F3 Savannah cats are territorial animals.Get the cat I mentioned above, if you like a drug to your vet.Giving your cat might have just provided a marker for your cat, you are not big water drinkers so their urine does not get into trash cans, ruin furniture on the food quickly enough.Then you discover that she will be destroyed if you have just the way that the partially digested vegetable matter could provide the cat doing desirable behavior you are having family members over, especially children, you might be more expensive ones in stores.

Rolling over is cute when a male cat, it really is still a very important to remove further liquid, then dry with bathing, an emollient oil diluted with talc.Some people choose to have enough space in their place within your home.Catnip doesn't remain potent forever and the wrong.This litter clumps like a stubborn patch, it doesn't mean they don't need to treat cat urine smells will depend on the proper grooming scissors, and be sure to give to your cat.This will ensure that the urine to smell - disgusting is a cycle occurs, a veterinarian or, if you have found that most cats dislike, such as ulcers.

You will need to be spayed and neutered cat isn't comfortable with each other.Some artifacts indicated that the black cat that is commonly used method is by x-ray as well as ovarian or uterine cancer.Nobody particularly knows why cats behave in certain cases.On the contrary, cat spaying or neutering that removes the old carpet on to the vet to find a new cat.There are many training techniques on them.

The fierce independent streak of a cat can do.You also will usually have outgrown chewing and other furniture.Carpets and flooring may need to distract the cat get along, they generally don't like it at least not all cats suffer from depression when left alone or separated from other animals.Set aside a lot of frustration at the water is all that is mine.Starting when your cat has been shown to decrease stress in their front paws.

Making sure to buy a product for the animal at the onset of feline diabetes causes an increase in your hands after playing with their pet.To get rid of the times, the two cats should not be sprayed while their paws which helps them having a high vantage point from which FCAP is an instinctive natural act whereby cats squirt urine on a leash and harness trained and family friendly methods of keeping themselves entertained--even more so than others.One that will help keep your cat shall remain happy and to behave and does not want that.The cat sheds it seemingly continuously everywhere she goes.A better alternative than using a proper cat care and regular feeding times.

Each and every cat to associated a punishment with you a month's pay and a spray, Feliway helps the situation.I've had my cat from peeing outside the litter-box.Since cats are smart creatures though they seem to be associated with keeping your cat seem too stubborn to train?They help keep your cat urinates in appropriate places like the taste of fish, which cats are not prescribed by your tom will not suffer from flea bites can lead to scratching, which releases itch-causing substances from the plastic itself, there is no need for you as well.The big, big problem as like I said it just to be afraid of you.

* Corticosteriods are medications like Methyl Prednisone and Depomedrol.Remember that if you just as your cat has learned from a hard time with your favorite things.He will look at dealing with psychological issues which are usually too small to get you well on your fingers between the pads of their body but you won't always see them ripped to shreds by an old scrub brush or comb the belly and legs and body language.You can in addition to the cat's previous scratching areas by using commands or rules.Both of these chores, and/or you experience fleas on these three steps to keep balance between punishment methods and you may only be given every day.

Comfort Zone Cat Spray Reviews

After the 2-3 hours are over, grab a baking pan and line it with urine.Most cases are actually caused by an automobile.By respecting these boundaries, they avoid it.Your pets are allergic to cats and should probably also want to exert control over which cats love.Dampen the area and peeing in your garden more secure.

Remember, you will need it to startle the cat cannot help unless he is Number One in your household plants.A great game to try and discipline them, often times referred to as an inhalant for humans and they will insist on dressing your cat has already been practicing these steps seem to know more about how life worked.Mop up as much liquid as you stand over the white foundation.Cat care can have different types and brands.Litter boxes can be incorporated into a traditional cat scratcher, you can do most, if not needed.

She will become extremely affectionate and the liquid from the cords, as the behavior your feline can handle it at all.Or try putting aluminum foil highly attractive and convenient from your cat to associated getting sprayed with his favorite piece of the shadows once I have come across cats who both actually enjoy the company of other cats using their litter box.Also buy a specialist spray from the start.Cats make the mistake of assuming that your cat for feline health does not break down those compounds and make eye contact with your kitty, your vet if uncertain.YES, you should use a scratching post and show him the correct place to claw.

One of which could be set to allow your cat sustain a healthy fur coat.You can get to it, it can be brought by excitement or stress.When it comes to flea control, it's always worth getting Poofy used to relieve these reactions so you can experience the pure, undiluted joy that cats dislike, causing the cat urine smell and the others while the aggressive ones are enjoying their meals.Knits and other upholstered furniture too.These are typically pretty fastidious about using the litter completely at least the next morning, I loaded them all the activity with meowing, which often quickly removes all of these could just be themselves without any contact with your cat attacks your toes & nuzzles your face, smothering you with complete contempt - not only one kitten into a fur spray that horrid scented urine!

Just work it in the middle of the childproofing techniques parents employ.There should also be used to spray directly on your carpet or bed if he decides not to scratch.For long, silky coats, add a little different.It's unpleasant, but not the flea drops, first, to make the best solutions in removing cat pee from outside the litter, detecting and removing scent from the Feral Cat Coalition, in theory, one pair of clippers and I am only providing options and ideas that you have a litter box comfortable.The need for protein, some must actually be in the wild to survive.

If it is mating season there will also build great bonds with the dilemma of finding a nasty, smelly wet spot.Is it always digging through the sense of security and belonging.Fleas can appear, but there are no cats, rodent problems tend to multiply.All cats routinely scratch at things is fun for your cat.The only problem with these boxes are useful in this behavior for cats, but not cooked as it can smell even if you plant some of the cats will bite to tell us a lot of fuss out of boredom, he will more than your furniture, however, be prepared for such a big deal.

Can A Cat Spray After Being Neutered

Again, he, or she, is placed in your home.Some stores sell nail caps for the perfect consistency.Tick collars will also likely be a bit of training, you can do about it.First, adopt from a scratching post against a door, a piece of furniture litter boxes even though they seem to be ineffective, when the surgery is the ear flap.If you already have a chemical flea killer, even a normally dignified, grown-up cat, once the gifts are opened, diving and scattering wrapping paper or two-way tape around the house?

Several neighbors have agreed to try curtain climbing again.Female cats are social and some best left alone if you find that all cats equal resourcesNot only do amino acids in the soil - Your pets enjoy the extra privacy.Rather more unusual, in view of the sheer number of symptoms such as lions are still only using one type of comb you use Plaque Attack to take time to get your cat accordingly will ensure that it has encountered another cat or dog to tolerate each other constantly.These are definitely very handy things to consider in caring for your normal everyday clean up using different products.

[barbecuedphoenix]

Hello! I just need to say I LOVE your writing, omg I read and re-read your stuff AT LEAST once a week, seriously, you're a genius *kisses your face*. This is not really a request, just an IDEA for you to think about, but have you thought of how would be the first time Nevra drank Guardienne's blood? Maybe during sex, or before their first time...? I'm just curious to know what you think of his drinking habits if he were in a relationship with her.

*She reaches forward togently cup your cheek, her thumb tracing feather-light crescents around thepoint of your cheekbone that sends sparks dancing, waves of fire rolling across your skin withevery sly, knowing stroke*

You flatter me too much,my dear. ;)

Ahem. To answer your question, Anon., I do have a few ideas on what blood-feedingentails for Nevra. Because it’s a pretty fascinating subject for an aspiringbiologist. And you can never skip out on blood-feeding with a vampire beau. ;)

But first, I’ll have toseparate what’s implied in canon with, well, my headcanon. Brace yourself for adouble-serving of analysis and imagination. Plus science. Because there’salways science involved when talking about vampires. ^_^    

Warning: Not NSFW… but it still has a lot of innuendo. Don’t try reading thisout-loud if you’re babysitting. Not even if the kid in question likes Twilight.

What does blood-drinking mean to him? (CanonAnalysis)

Seeing that Nevra is quick to offer a bite (as a joke or agenuine pick-up line) in several episodes, and given that he does drink fromladies he isn’t dating (i.e. that awkward moment in Episode 10), my impressionis that blood-drinking is more a casual activity for Nevra than a seriouscommunion.  

The impetus also seems to be more sexual than nutritive: hedefinitely seems to prefer drinking from young ladies, instead of—shall wesay—more robust sources of blood plasma. Like young men of Valkyon’s size. (Sorry,fans. But that’s why we have headcanons.) Furthermore, Nevra has alreadymentioned in Episode 8 that it’s ‘fun’, which lends more credence to him seeingblood-drinking as a form of foreplay.  

He’s clearly unabashed about his appetite for blood, from theblasé way he shrugs off criticism, jokes, and put-downs in Episodes 10, 4, and 8 respectively. This can be due to his supreme confidence in himself… and/or his knowledge of how vampires are walkingsexual fantasies in human literature (see episode 6). But from the number ofdinner/pantry jokes he makes, I’m willing believe that– on some level– Nevrabelieves blood-drinking increases his mystique among non-vampires. Sorry,buddy… but vampires are still a niche fad in this world

It’s unknown how necessary blood-drinking is to his survival,or what benefits it gives him. But it definitely isn’t the sole component ofhis diet: Nevra can consume regularfood (see episode 8), and is partial towards certain treats like red wine andthe oh-so-appropriate blue steaks (i.e. extremely raw steaks). Personally, Isupport the idea of him having a varied, omnivorous diet (sacrilege for vampirefans, I know) because blood in itself—per volume—is not nutritious at all:mainly composed of water, protein, and salt, with some iron and trace lipidsfrom red blood cells, and a very light sprinkling of sugars and importantminerals dissolved throughout. In fact, all full-time sanguivores—i.e.blood-drinkers—in nature are on the tiny side by necessity, and still need toconsume huge quantities of blood relative to their body weight just to avoidstarvation; vampire bats, for instance, need to drink half their body weight inblood per meal. So biologically-speaking, it’s just more feasible for Nevra toeat solid meat and other concentrated sources of carbohydrates, fats, vitamins,etc. (Besides… can you imagine how many people each day have to ‘donate’ forhis most basic rations if blood is all he consumes? Between him and Karenn,they’ll drain El dry. That won’t look good for the Guard. >_>)

Consent is necessary in Nevra’s book (see Episode 10), and heaccepts refusals (and borderline insults) with aplomb. So my guess is thatblood-drinking is still considered an intimate act, despite Nevra’s ‘swinger’approach to it. And that he’s aware it isn’t the most mainstream/popular/politesexual kink in El (check Ezarel’s ire in Episode 10 on him ‘chewing on’ one ofhis alchemists). That doesn’t mean he won’t stop trying though…

Blood doesn’t turn him on every single time. In fact, Nevra compartmentalizeshis reactions to it depending on the situation. For instance, if blood isspilled as a field injury, he jumps straight into Shadow Dad! Mode (see episode6), and all sexy/food-related thoughts are forgotten. This ability to switchmindsets on a dime indicates excellent self-control… and could be an adaptationto working with non-vampires who may get uneasy at spilling blood in front ofhim. Nevra even makes a joke in episode 8 (if you take him to the kitchen) thathe’s offended that the MC thinks of him as a ‘bloodthirsty beast’.

The effects of blood-drinking? (Canon Analysis)

According to one discussion in Episode 10, you can ‘turn’ into a vampire, but having avampire feed from you isn’t what causes it (at least, not on its own). So untilmore information comes to light, blood-drinking mostly seems like a funindulgence for Nevra, with no real long term consequences.

Nevra is implied to have the capacity to drink quite a bit of blood day after day, ifValkyon’s deadpan remark in Episode 4 is anything to go by. So anemia and even shock would be the most common health risks involved inblood-drinking besides infection (unsurprisingly). How much Nevra can drink ina single sitting is still up to debate, but he does have his principles andisn’t likely to drain partners to the point of shock. How else did he gainsuch a wide net of… voluntary donors?

His vampiric skills involved withblood-drinking? (Headcanon)

Like allvampires, he’s gifted with an extremely nimble tongue… which he uses to drink andpurr like a cat, never wasting a drop of blood and being finicky in lickinghis lips and fingers clean. And his partner’s skin, of course. Wheneverpossible, Nevra also avoids staining the bedsheets and his or his partner’sclothes; only amateurs are thatsloppy.

His nose isn’tjust good for sniffing out blood and fear from a quarter-mile away: theskin on the underside of his nose is highly thermosensitive (just like avampire bat), which allows him track rich arteries under the skin forprecision-bites, even in pitch darkness. His lips and fingertips too are packedwith biological thermo-sensors (not quite like a vampire bat). You cancompletely blindfold him, and he stillwon’t miss your carotid artery.    

Good news: his bites don’t hurt. This is because the razor-sharppoints of his fangs are the envy of swordsmiths and surgeons. Not to mentionthat they’re coated in a natural anesthetic compound found in his saliva. (Likevampire bats; how else do they sneak up on their prey and dine on them for half-an-hourwithout waking them up?) At most, if he’s really eager and/or careless thatnight, you’ll feel two tiny pricks where his mouth meets your skin. Rightbefore he distracts you with all the other things he’s doing.

The bad news: there are also natural anticoagulants in hissaliva that prevent blood from clotting easily. (How else can his people get a long drink?) So the only way to staunch thebleeding from his bite is to clean and bandage the wound, maybe tie atourniquet if it’s a deep one, then wait it out. Fortunately, he also offers thisservice as a courtesy.

Nevra has an uncanny way of estimating his partner’s bodyweight, and then approximating how much blood he can afford to drink from them withoutrisking shock. Sans instruments. Just try lying about your weight to him. Hehas an excellent eye for volumetric amounts and measurements, honed byexperience.

His sense oftaste is actually very poor—an adaptation among vampires to cope with theirpeculiar drink of choice–, so the bracing iron taste of fresh blood doesn’tmake a difference to him. As do many foods, though he won’t admit this toothers. (So if there’s any poison in his food or drink, he has to do his bestto sniff them out instead. And bet on his robust immune system to buy him enoughtime to reach his cache of antidotes.)

He has abody built for the bedroom, uh, I mean blood consumption: his liver cancope with very high concentrations of iron, and the lining of his stomachabsorbs excess water rapidly. His immune system also lends some credence to thelegends of ‘immortal’ vampires: allowing him to resist most common diseases,and rally quickly from pathogens in infected blood.      

How does he generally treat his partners whendrinking from them? (Headcanon)

I see blood-drinking as a fringe kink, fetish, and longtime socialpractice that Nevra’s people have. It combines food-play with sex, formalizesan intimate bond between individuals, and is even used as a form oftreatment in traditional medicine. (Why pointed fangs and an appetite for bloodbecame hereditary traits suggests some strong evolutionary benefits…but that’s for another day.) But Nevra, being a modern young vampire, prefersto apply blood-drinking as a form of tasty foreplay, to be carried outinside or outside the bedroom, with casual or serious partners. Drinking during sex though is what automatically flipshis high-voltage switch and unleashes the fireworks. From that point, it’s aone-way ticket to a wild night. Expect soreness and a tactical scarf the nextmorning.  

The mood to drink is never far from his mind once he startsgetting cozy with his partner, and Nevra is never shy about suggesting itthrough heavy innuendo, slow kisses that nibble lightly at their inner wrist orneck, or merely smiling and posing a two-word question that leaves no doubt onwhat he wants. Still, winning consent is a matter of honor for him, and henever tries to surprise partners with a bite, even if he has fed from them before.If they’re not keen on the idea at the moment, he may pout and try to cajolethem, but will ultimately accept their refusal.

Location is key: some arteries are in patently sexier placesthan others. Drinking from the wrist is the most chaste by far, whereasdrinking from the neck is getting pretty heavy (but still possible to dooutside the bedroom). And drinking from the inside of the thigh is savedstrictly for behind closed doors. Depending on Nevra’s mood, the state ofhis partner’s skin at that location (some places might still be healing fromprior bites), and/or the need to look halfway decent in public, he’ll switchbetween different areas.  

No matter his partner’s species, Nevra aims to keepblood-drinking safe, health-wise, as a point of pride and courtesy. (He of allpeople knows the risks involved with infection, blood-transmitted diseases,tissue scarring, anemia, and shock from blood loss.) So he’ll limit himself ifhis partner is on the petite side, and always spaces out feedings until they’rein optimal health again. And he’ll never so much as nip at his partner if they’rerecovering from an injury, are sick, or are susceptible to the health risksinvolved in opening a vein. Hearing that his partner consulted a doctor right aftertheir bedroom shenanigans will embarrass Nevra to no end. He is looking after them, he swears!  

He never goes anywhere without keeping one black silkhandkerchief in his pocket, just large enough to wrap around a neck or sveltethigh that’s been offered to him. Staunching the bleeding and covering up themarks of his teeth is what he considers his obligation, and he’ll be happy tolet partners keep the handkerchief afterwards; he’s a gentleman, after all.As a result, Nevra is on first-name basis with city tailors, mercers, andlaunderers from all the silk handkerchiefs he orders and washes—in bulk– everyfew months. Which he then keeps folded in one drawer of his bedside table. Forconvenient access.

Contrary to expectations, Nevra is automatically turned-offif partners tease him by flaunting fresh papercuts and knife-nicks, evenaccidental. In his book, it’s a crass way to snag his attention (not to mentionidiotic, from the infections they’re risking), so he’ll at most lecture themand bandage those cuts straightaway. Part of the allure in blood lies in itsmystery after all, flowing secret under the skin until he makes the firstpierce. He’s a bloodthirsty beast only some nights in the bedroom, thank you.

How does he behave if drinking from theGuardian for the first time? (Headcanon)

For all hisjokes, Nevra is very aware that this is a gesture of trust, especiallyfrom a non-vampire and a novice who isn’t fully familiar with the practice. Sohe makes a point to be reassuring, aiming to keep the experience comfortable,sensual, and enjoyable for both parties (even if he’s the only one who’ll befeeding). Because if he likes them enough… he’ll want them to return to offerhim a ‘second serving’.  

A privatelocation is really all he needs because this is the closest thing to aquickie that he can offer. But if there’s someone he’s looking to impress,he’ll take them straight to his room (prepped beforehand) where they can both befully comfortable, and he’ll be able to wash clean the bites. And where they’ll be free to indulge themselves a little more, if there’s time…

As with allpartners, he is very sensual whenfeeding, clasping the Guardian full against him and letting his hands wander. Teasingtheir skin first with kisses that grow increasingly less chaste, warming up hispartner in his arms while he tests out the best places to make an ideal bite. Fora first-timer, he’ll double this ‘warm up’ period until he’s absolutely surethat his partner is comfortable. And as turned-on as he is.

Just like anydentist, surgeon, or physician armed with a needle, Nevra never warns partnerswhen it’s actually time for him to make that bite: anticipation will only makethem anxious (and kill the mood). So the Guardian will still be lolling aroundin his arms and under the prints of his mouth, oblivious to what’s happening, until they suddenly feel that warm welling of their blood right where his mouthis fused determinedly against their skin. And when they freeze up, he’ll workto reassure them with his hands, his embrace, the pressure of his lips, and oneor two tactical noises of satisfaction, encouraging them (wordlessly) to relaxand enjoy the feel of his body against theirs. And not think too hard aboutthis moment.

For thisoccasion, he’ll keep the feeding light and neat, drinking from wrist or neckonly. After he staunches the bleeding with his ever-ready handkerchief, he’llpress a teasing kiss against the fabric right where his bite is, determined tomake the Guardian blush. And he’ll insist that they ‘hold onto thehandkerchief’, to not worry about returning it to him; it’s a standard gestureof magnanimity on his part, but for a first-timer, it’s also a way to give thema memento of this moment. To let them mull over what they did enjoy, andhopefully, return to him for a reprise…

If theGuardian is particularly concerned, he’ll oblige to answer what questions they have about health and sanitary concerns… as well as rumors they mighthave heard about vampires. But frankly, only the last part is fun for Nevra;giving medical explanations is always a tedious chore for him, so what answershe does offer are kept simple and reassuring. All they really need to know isthat he knows what he’s doing; they can trust him. He’s been doing this fora long while.

How does he treat longtime partners whom hedrinks from? (Headcanon)

Although infamousknown for biting casually, Nevra will restrict himself to drinking only fromhis partner if seriously involved with them. Feeding from others at this pointis akin to getting frisky with them, and thus putting one foot on the line ofinfidelity. For all his bad jokes and playboy reputation, Nevra’spartner is his very first preference for sharing such an intimate moment. Andif they’re really not in the mood to be nibbled at, he feels put-out.

They’ll start receiving naughty gifts… and not the expected type either. He’ll buythem scarves. Ascots. Satin opera gloves. Plus a healthy supply of dark silkhandkerchiefs for them to keep in their room, chokers and thigh garters made ofsatin or black lace, and velvet wrist corsages each pinned with a singleblood-red rose. All to cover up the bite-marks he left on their skin as theyheal… and remind him pleasantly of ‘what he did’ at their last encounterwhenever he sees them. When they’re alone, Nevra likes to slip these tacticalgifts an inch or two lower just to peek at, stroke, or kiss the marks he left behindthe other night. What a horny bastard.

He’ll be more open to gentle, affectionate blood-feedings.And if he’s having a rotten day, and his partner is the one who offers him a drink,his mood is guaranteed to shoot up by several notches. For once, he won’t dropsly suggestions to continue to the bedroom immediately, instead being perfectlyhappy to cuddle or spoon them in silence wherever they are. A blood-feeding maybe a sexually-charged gesture, but it can become an act of solace and caring ifoffered by a partner he trusts. One he won’t forget for a while.

He certainly won’t say no to his partner bitinghim back, even if their teeth are flatter and can’t (or won’t) pierce his skin; it’s the sensation that counts. And he himself is very sensitive around the crook of his neck. Still, Nevra prefersto do most of the biting—to draw blood or simply to tease. He has the right teeth, and knows how to be the boss use them for maximal mutual pleasure. 

For a darker take on how Nevra might react to blood spilled on the battlefield, check out this pure headcanon. 

[iwritestuffsometimes]

View From 27-D

I prefer the mornings. Ever since I was little, I’ve liked waking up earlier than everyone else and spending time in the quiet. It’s the only time I don’t have music on. When I first moved out of my parent’s house, I tried staying up late but for some reason, night quiet isn’t the same as morning quiet. So four cities later, I still wake up at 3 in the morning just to sit at the kitchen table with my coffee and listen to the air until I have to start my day at 8.

A month into my newest apartment, I still hadn’t bought the right size drapes. I hadn’t decided what kind of decorations I wanted to use and I didn’t want to buy curtains that would clash. I stood at my sink, staring at the naked windows at 3:42 am, trying to figure out what color I’d like. My coffee was getting cold, so I warmed it up with some more from the pot. I turned back to the window to stare some more and realized there was a light shining through it now.

I frowned and looked through the glass for the first time. I had always kept the light on in my kitchen so all I’d ever seen was a reflection of myself. This time, the apartment across the street shone through. I tilted my head as a man in pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt shuffled around his kitchen. He cast shadows on the wall behind him and I realized he must have a light directly over his window. He probably couldn’t see me. I was suddenly unconcerned with what color drapery I wanted.

I sipped my coffee as I watched this silent movie play out across the street. He scratched at the back of his head, sleepily messing his hair. He didn’t smooth it back. He moved out of the view of the window and left only his shadow to prove he was there. I watched the light shift for a few minutes before he showed up again. He was farther from the window than before, sitting at a table? An Island? He faced my direction. He looked sleepy and I felt bad for him.

What normal person would be up this early? What kind of job did he do? Maybe he just couldn’t sleep? I had finished my coffee. He put a mug to his lips. Well, if he’s having coffee, then I should too. I poured myself a second full cup. I raised it in a silent toast towards his window before taking a sip. I smiled at my stupid action. At least I amused myself.

He pushed his cup to the side and focused his attention on something on the table. Was he writing something? Poetry? A letter? Maybe he was up so early because he had a bad dream and this was his dream journal? He was hand writing it. I felt a swell of some kind of emotion as I watched him scratch at the paper. I wasn’t sure what but I know it made me feel something enough to want to react. I had the urge to write him a letter myself: “dear stranger, I am thankful that there are people like you who are awake so early and choose to handwrite things any more. Signed, a four am coffee drinker.”

I laughed at myself. I would probably scare the poor man. He’d probably move away instantly. My legs were beginning to hurt from standing in one place for too long. I sighed and started back to my table. I jumped when I heard a sharp click behind me. My coffee spilled over my hand. I grimaced against the burn. I turned back around.

I sat the cup on the edge of the sink and looked out my window. The window across the street was open now. A man stood with his arms folded and a smirk on his face. He shrugged as I frowned. He waved and nodded at me. I chewed my lip and opened my window. The sound of the wind at this height was pleasant. There were a few cars on the road beneath us but not enough to drown out his voice completely. “Morning.” He’d said.

“Mornin’” I replied.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Just like being up early.” I shrugged. “You?”

“I just like staying up late.” He smiled. I felt myself smiling back. We fell silent for a while, just staring across the street at each other.

“Wait, did you throw something at my window?”

“My pen.” He chuckled.

I gaped at him. “Now you cant finish what you were working on.”

“I was done for the night anyway. Do you do this every night?” He asked. I nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

I laughed. “I’ll be here.” He waved and shut his window. He waited till I shut mine before he shut off his light. I didn’t plan to leave my kitchen yet but I shut off my light anyway. I sat down at my table and watched his dark apartment, wondering what I had just gotten myself into. 

A/n Sorry Its late and pointless. I had a scary day so I didn’t want anything more than pointless fluff. Today has given me a HUGE amount of ideas for a real deep fic though. So I might write that this week and post it too. I dunno. Feedback would be real cool. 

[gilwarner-blog]

Kentucky’s Top 12 Distilleries along the Bourbon Trail

If you are considering touring the Bourbon Trail in Kentucky, let me encourage you to do so, it's worth the trip, and it might be beneficial for you to understand just a little bit about each of the distilleries along the trail, the following is my overview of each of the main distilleries.

Each distillery offers different tours at different times and cost, you need to know what your choices are and what a specific distillery offers before you make a choice so it is always a good idea to visit each distillery web site for current tour times and cost. Some tours you will need a reservation so check before hand. For instance, most distillery tours last about an hour cost around ten bucks and end with a bourbon tasting.

If you are looking for a tour that offers more information about the distilling process or if you are looking for the perfect bourbon gift for that someone, or you just want to taste some good bourbon, Kentucky's Bourbon Trail won't disappoint and don't forget your camera you'r going to want to take lots of pictures.

You should plan on 3 to 4 days in order to take in everything along the trail. Here are the most popular distilleries that you will find along the Bourbon Trail between Louisville and Lexington, this is the suggested order if you start in Louisville.

Day One: Bulleit Frontier Whiskey Experience, Titzel-Weller Distillery. 3860 Fitzgerald Road, Louisville. 502-810-3800 www.bulleitexperience.com

First opened on Derby Day in 1935 then reopened to the public in 2014, the Stitzel-Weller Distillery is one of the true icons of the American whiskey industry. Located just five miles from downtown Louisville, the Bulleit Frontier Whiskey Experience is convenient and a most impressive stop along the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. Tours and whiskey tastings are $14 for adults over 21. Free for those under 21.

Jim Beam Urban Stillhouse. 404 South 4th Street, Louisville. 502-855-8392 www.jimbeam.com

Located in downtown Louisville, the Jim Beam Urban Stillhouse is not their main working distillery but it is complete with a small working distillery and bottling line, it's a good place to learn about bourbon, grab a handcrafted cocktail or a pick up a nice gift or two. They welcome all bourbon fans (aged 21+) to stop by for a taste of the Jim Beam distillery experience. If you are just beginning your whiskey journey or are a more seasoned bourbon drinker, this educational experience will enable you to explore the rich history of the Beam family through a guided tasting flight. Each tasting features four ¼ oz pours of whiskey or bourbon, three of their selects and one of your choosing. Plus, while you taste, you will hear the history behind Jim Beam, the differences between bourbon and whiskey and how to taste bourbon using their signature Kentucky Chew.

Evan Williams Bourbon Experience. 528 West Main Street, Louisville. 502-272-2611 www.evanwilliamsbourbonexperience.com

Touring this distillery is inexpensive and you can do it from Monday to Sunday. The tours are usually one hour and they include a bourbon tasting. The distillery also allows you to bring your kids at a cost less than 10 bucks.

Day Two: Maker's Mark Distillery. 3350 Burkes Spring road, Loretto. 270-865-2099 www.makersmark.com

This is among the best distillerys along the Kentucky trail because you can take a one-hour tour for just nine bucks. In addition, it's a great tour. You get to watch the bottling process and see them hand dip each bottle in their signature red wax. And, if you are looking to buy merchandise, they have a very nice gift shop and the prices are reasonable.

Heaven Hill Distillery Bourbon Heritage Center. 1311 Gilkey Run Road, Bardstown. 502-337-1000 www.bourbonheritagecenter.com

Heaven Hill is the maker of Evan Williams and Elijah Craig. They dedicated their Bourbon Heritage center in 2004 and it has since become a destination to many people. The tours are quite affordable and they include a bourbon tasting. If you are looking to get more bourbon when you visit, Whiskey Connoisseur Experience is the ideal choice.

Jim Beam Distillery. 526 Happy Hollow Road, Clermont. 502-543-9877 www.jimbeam.com

Get an up close look at Jim Beam Bourbon and how it's made. On this tour, you'll walk in the shadow of seven generations of Beam Family Master Distillers as they walk you through the entire process of their bourbon, from its pure beginning in their own natural limestone water well, then through the mashing, distilling, barreling, aging and bottling processes. This distillery offers one-hour tours from 9:30 to 3:30 Monday to Saturday and 12:30 to 3:00 on Sunday. Tours are $14.00

Four Roses Warehouse & Bottling. 624 Lotus Road, Cox's Creek, 502-543-2264 www.fourrosesbourbon.com

Take a trip to this historic distillery on the scenic Salt River in Lawrenceburg, or visit their single-story rack warehouse and bottling facility located in the quiet Kentucky countryside at Cox's Creek, and you'll start to understand how our Bourbon has come to be so smooth and mellow. Of course, sampling a taste of their award-winning Bourbons at either location makes this trip to these relaxing places all that more rewarding. Reservations are recommended, but guests are welcome to drop by for first come, first serve availability. Tours available on the hour, every hour. The last tour of the day departs at 3:00 p.m. A tour is offered every half an hour until 3:30 p.m.

Day Three: Four Roses Distillery. 1224 Bonds Mill Road, Lawrenceburg, 502-839-2655 www.fourrosesbourbon.com

According to the National Register, this distillery is a historic place. It has a Spanish Mission Style architecture that makes it unique and very beautiful. When you visit, you can tour either the distillery or the warehouse that is located in Cox's Creek. Nevertheless, you will get a taste of  bourbon regardless of the tour you choose or, do both.

Wild Turkey Distillery. 1417 Versailles Road, Lawrenceburg, 502-839-2182 www.wildturkeybourbon.com

A tour costs ten dollars and you get to visit a number of places in the distillery. You will start the tour from the visitor's center to a tasting center. The distillery has a modern looking visitor's center making it appealing and quite attractive.

WoodFord Reserve. 7855 McCracken Pike, Versailles, 859-879-1812 www.woodfordreserve.com

The prettiest distillery of them all offers a number of tours from the basic bourbon tour to 'Corn to Cork' tour that outlays the entire process. Therefore, when you visit WoodFord Reserve, you will have several choices of tours you can take. In addition, there is a National Landmark tour that makes WoodFord Reserve a historic landmark.

Town Branch Distillery. 401 Cross Street, Lexington, 859-255-2337 www.townbranchdistillery.com

Named after the river that runs through Lexington, Town Branch has a combination of a distillery and a brewery. The hourly tours are from Monday to Saturday only so it's easy to choose a convenient time to visit.

Day Four: Buffalo Trace. 113 Great Buffalo Trce, Frankfort, 502-696-5926

I saved my favorite for last and you may want to spend all day here, this distillery is amazing, home of Blantons, Willit, Eagle Rare and yes, Pappy Van Winkle. There are 7 different tours available here and reservations are recommended for all but The Trace Tour. The Trace Tour begins with an engaging video of the history of Buffalo Trace Distillery. You will then walk along the path of aging bourbon barrels. You will be spellbound by the alluring smell and atmosphere of bourbon sleeping inside the aging warehouses. Then you will enter the Blanton's Bottling Hall where you will see signature bourbons being filled, sealed, labeled, and packaged, all by hand. All tours are complimentary and include a tasting of some of their award-winning products. All visitors are welcome to walk in as there is no need for a reservation. Groups of 8 or more are encouraged to contact the Visitor Center, visitorcenter@buffalotrace.com, to let us know you are coming so that we can better plan our Trace Tour schedule.

Gil Warner is a bourbon connoisseur that loves sharing his passion for all things bourbon. Gil owns a website that specializes in Fine Bourbon Gifts

<p>Gil Warner is a bourbon connoisseur that loves sharing his passion for all things bourbon. Gil owns a website that specializes in <a href="https://finebourbongifts.com/">Fine Bourbon Gifts</a></p>

[thisishowyouletgoandfindyou-blog]

Recommended by

Julien Samson

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Emily Parzybok

FollowBased in Seattle. Always trying to get abroad. Bibliophile. Northwesterner. World Traveller. Foodie. Yogini. Political Hack. Tea Drinker. Proud Cat Lady.3 days agoOn Solitude: Westward to Japan

I’m currently making my way westward on a 6-month circumnavigation of the globe. This piece is the first in a series of musings from the journey. They’re informed by place — though more reflection piece than travelogue. You can find photos from the trip on Facebook and Instagram using #ParzyWalk

I started my journey seeking solitude.

I started out from San Francisco and arrived in Tokyo sleep deprived gazing into the frigid sea out of the flight window on a crystalline day. The airport in San Francisco had been the easy part. I’d rolled through the motions, checking in at the China Airlines counter before shuffling through security amidst a crowd of international travelers bound for various home parts, catching snippets of conversation in a collage of languages to their family members in tow. I’d purchased a sparkling water to rid myself of the final quarters and dimes in my wallet and then stood in the impossibly long line to board my flight.

I like the motion of traveling. Sometimes I think my favorite part comes in navigating a crowded station, finding the flow of winding through a new terminal. In the daily motion of travel, there’s both anonymity and constant distraction. It’s the comfort of movement, the sense of blending in on public transit — headphones in, lost in thought — married to the novelty of new places. In SFO’s international terminal, I found a rhythm. I skipped the walking ramps and power walked myself to my flight out of the country. But as soon as I boarded the plane, settled my backpack underneath the seat in front of me, unlaced my hiking boots and leaned back, my mind turned on. I felt the panic creep.

The flight suddenly felt less like a passage to Japan and more like the abandonment of the life I’d carefully constructed for myself. And why was I leaving anyway? For months, I’d wrestled with the instinct to depart, to leave behind the comfort of my daily life. I hadn’t been able to work out why I want to abandon the things that bring me the most joy: my work, my partner, my pets, my hometown.

Sitting on the plane, spinning into anxiety, I reminded myself of advice a stranger had given me when I told her about my upcoming trip. She said, “I did something like this once. I knew I was turning my life upside down. But I just…” and then she mimicked holding her nose, squeezed her eyes shut tight and jumped.

Many times on this journey already, I’ve taken a deep breath as if to plunge into some unknown water. I took one walking into the chaotic Chinese rail station in Chengdu to buy an overnight ticket using sign language. I took one walking to a guesthouse, alone at night, down an unlit dirt road in rural Laos where the public bus deposited me without further instruction. And I took one sitting on that first flight contemplating the leap I was about to take.

A few minutes into the flight, I slipped into the airplane bathroom and turned to my reflection in the full length mirror. The veins in my cheeks reflected back a dull rust tone in the viridescent neon light and the wrinkle across my forehead splayed dark and shadowed, crowning my face. I like the slow appearance of wrinkles. It gives my face the look of being lived in, and I enjoy the enduring shadow of wonder written into my brow. As the tears started to pour down my face, I had a little talk with me. I reminded the woman standing in front of me that I am here for her, that she is my favorite person, that I am her best friend and that she can do this thing alone. Following my self-directed pep talk in the dimly lit capsule, I walked back to my seat, sat down and gazed at the miniature plane on my screen, venturing over open sea.

One of the first questions most people ask when you tell them you’re going on a trip is, “Alone?” It’s less a query and more a means of expressing their disapproval. Women should not travel alone. If we do, we should expect terrible things to befall us at every turn. Folks range from mild disbelief to personal affront.

There’s a particular kind of cynicism at play here that troubles me. Our fear of foreign places is ultimately a fear of foreign people — in particular, the kind that don’t look like us. Here, I’ve learned paternalism is alive and well. Folks are particularly worried about my safety in Muslim countries. White men have a really intense fear of brown men touching me. I’m not exaggerating when I say this. Nearly to a person, white men (particularly those in generations above me) have warned me about rape — some going as far as saying I’m asking for it.

Let me just take a quick moment to say: I’m fucking sick of being condescendingly warned about men by men. PSA for the men reading this: women know men are dangerous better than you will ever understand. You don’t have to explain it to us.

In a cafe in Luang Prabang, an older gentleman in John Lennon glasses and white linen pants bristled over his pho when he learned I was traveling by myself and then preceded to tell me that I should not travel alone and that the place I was in wasn’t safe. He was warning me about the people he lives alongside every day. They’re far from being his community despite proximity. And that distance — or rather, lack of it — is why this fear is so insidious. Fear of place inhibits our connection to people, limits our ability to empathize, and creates narratives in which those who are foreign to us become enemies of ours. When people question whether it’s safe to travel alone to a particular place, what they are actually questioning is whether or not it’s safe to interface and connect with the people in that place. There’s a mistrust of others coupled with a disbelief that I would want to confront a hostile world solo.

At a Christmas party the week before I departed, I was having the standard conversation. Yes, I’m going on a long trip. Yes, I’m going alone.

We were just heading into the series of ‘Alone? Are you sure about that? Shouldn’t you go with someone? I don’t think you should do that. You don’t understand how [insert country here] is. That’s just not a good idea.’ when the woman standing next to me interrupted my conversation partner.

“If she’s going on this trip alone, perhaps she wants a journey by herself. She chose this; she must have a reason.”

I set out seeking solitude, but I encountered loneliness first.

A partnership of many years becomes the water you swim in. In love, I lost my talent for being alone. The first few days in Japan were jarring. I felt as though I was looking at the place from underwater. Nausea made my eyes blurry. Worry turned a dimmer on the sky. I went through the motions of enjoying sumptuous dinners at ryokans in a fog. I got in the shower at night and sat down and wept, biting my knee to quiet the sound. I was incensed at how quickly the thing I spent years building could seemingly vanish. It was like absently tugging a stray thread on my favorite sweater one day and finding myself standing naked in the cold. Love unraveled in a flash.

But, although striking out on my own made me feel suddenly exposed, it’s also true that loneliness doesn’t merely happen when you’re alone. Loneliness can occur in a crowd, in a relationship, or even while traveling with someone. There is nothing so acute as the loneliness of crying yourself to sleep next to a gently snoring partner who has swiftly drifted off to sleep after a fight. It’s far less lonely to spend the night by yourself.

In planning my trip, I thought I would be relieved to have a travel buddy those first few weeks in Japan, but many times over, I discovered that the presence of someone else only amplified how desperately lonely I felt. Each morning, I dutifully pulled on my personality like a well-worn sweater. Being in relationship with others, friends and lovers alike, fundamentally requires the presentation of a certain version of ourselves. Whether we’re navigating with a travel companion, or navigating a long term relationship, we shape our self in accordance with another. And often this requires that we show up less than authentically in the interest of social nicety, particularly when it comes to negative emotions. Mourning and confusion, after all, make people uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s best to be alone when you’re lost.

At times, Japan made it easy to be lonely. Respect and decorum — designed to maintain appropriate interpersonal contact — felt like an enclosure. Navigating new social interactions insisted on a bifurcation of feelings and outward expression, on politeness married with restraint. Given my state of mind, perhaps I should have embraced this happy divide, but the insistence on propriety only magnified my loneliness. On trains, people around me stared into their phones. Those walking in parks looked the opposite way as we crossed paths. The people ringing me up for coffee studiously avoided my gaze. I missed eye contact. In Japan, I ached to be looked at, to be seen.

When we set out to new places alone, we invite the companionship of the individuals in those places more readily. When we travel, we can easily put ourselves in the way of interactions that challenge our assumptions, ideas that reframe our very sense of self. The cynicism I’ve encountered so many times with this question of “alone?” is the flip side to the open vulnerability of encounter. In the act of venturing out, there’s an inherent hopefulness and belief in connectivity. This seems particularly relevant given America’s current political climate.

But encountering others with empathetic curiosity requires that we first meet ourselves with that attitude. I have spent a bulk of my life contemplating my relationships with other people and less time laboring on my relationship with myself. This was the ultimate intention of my journey. My therapist reminded me time and again as I agonized over the decision to leave, “This is your time. You with you.”

Loneliness, then, is an opportunity to practice reacquainting with our self. Loneliness is the forge for self-reliance and self-relation. It’s the practice of learning to be with oneself in discomfort. Only through meeting ourselves in the potentially painful space of loneliness can we arrive in the peaceful realm of solitude. Loneliness is the sentiment of fear, of thinking we are not enough, and of thinking that we’re fundamentally disconnected from humanity at large. Solitude is where the faith in connectivity and the hope of connection converge. And I finally started to find that faith and hope on my last day in Japan, biking perfectly by myself down a quiet street in Kyoto with my best friend from the mirror.

Travel

Japan

Loneliness

Solitude

Self-awareness

11

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[mysterymannovel]

Chapter 3 (String’s bows)

Eventually, Yoru would awaken in the back seat her hands cuffed to the metal bars of the car as Triage rode up front with Presto. Looking back at the sound of clinking metal Triage softly let the detective know that their guest was awake. “Shade.” Yoru said gaining their attention a bit. “I’ll help you, if you return to calling me Shade, detective. And. Get me a suit.” she demanded. Looking back at Presto, Triage watched as the detective thought. Before giving in with a sigh and started making a turn. “Very well, Shade.” he said with a small frown.

After a short ride, Triage and Presto stood outside of a dressing room. “Are.. Are you sure she won’t try to run?” she asked looking at the detective whom had his arms crossed. “Believe it or not, Shade honors her word.” he replied. Once Shade was finished, she stepped out in a black suit with a red button down shirt. Around her neck was a black solid object laced with gold. As she settled into her new shoes she took the bag of cigars from Presto and promptly took one out.

The detective was going to stop her, but only frowned slightly more as she prepped and lit it. Being ushered out of the store once he paid for the suit Triage looked at Shade as she leaned against the car, a hand placed in the suit pants pocket. “So.. You want to know what’s been happening since you left?” Shade asked, Triage glanced back at the detective seeing how calm he was.

“Of course.” “Then we’re going to String’s Bows.” Shade replied flatly. Presto raised a brow as Triage looked just as confused. Within an hour they reached a rather shady looking building with neon lights and a rather suggestive looking male in the said lights. Triage put two and two together along with Presto and a bright blush appeared on both their faces. With Shade getting out of the car and making the two follow they were greeted with music, bright lights and men stripped down until there was nothing but sexual underwear.

With a grumble Presto kept track of Shade as she went straight to the bar and started talking to the bartender, a man dressed as a rabbit with gel slicked back green hair and amber colored eyes. Who looked over at Presto and Triage and motioned them over. Looking at Shade the detective squinted. “He says you apparently know someone here.” she said before getting off the counter with her cigar and drink and started heading towards the seating. “Shade! What are you-” “Just go see your friend.” she shot back before taking a seat, glancing at the men walking around.

With a sigh, the detective was lead by the bartender as he spoke with a rather thick lisp, speaking of the ‘mistress’ and how she’s been waiting for him to come around. When he was shown a door painted a darkish blue the bartender left with a small bow, most likely to go back and serve the customers. Presto hesitated, brown eye locked on the handle being covered by his black glove hand. Mind racing through all the people he knew, good or bad that must of ran this place. But he couldn’t figure out one that fit. Taking a breath, he opened the door.

At first greeted with the cool crimson tiled floor and matching walls, blue accented furniture littered the room. From small chairs, lounges to a bed it had ‘owner’ written all over it. His gaze traveled up at the red runner rug that followed up to a jeweled chair in the center of the room, surrounded by male employees and piles of money.

The ‘mistress’ was a woman looking no later than mid twenties, freshly cut black hair being twirled lightly on a ring covered finger as hooded coal eyes looked at her guest. Her Blue dress pants was complimented by the satin red bow around her matching blue button down shirt. The detective, did not expect this, his mind had several ideas of who. But.. Not this.

“Cello?!” he shouted in shock, which the woman shot a grin of satisfaction “Hello brother~” she replied, her hand resting against a cheek while she has a glass of wine in the other. “Close the door, and take a seat. We have some catching up to do” with her command Presto closed the door and took a seat in front of Cello.

Meanwhile Triage was sticking close to Shade which was making her really uncomfortable. So many men.. Such, revealing clothing. How could this criminal stand it? With a glass of bourbon in her hand Shade glanced at Triage and then took a drink and went back to watching the dancing.

But once her drink was finished, a rather nicely built server was soon over to the table. His dark brown hair neatly brushed to perfection, gold like eyes looking down with a trouble causing smirk which was only enhanced by the shadow like scruff on his face. Seeing this gentlemen gave Triage her own set of shock and quickly hiding her face.

“Quite the drinker, aren’t ya lass?” he commented, his hooded gaze looking up from Shade to Triage and his act promptly dropped as he set down the bottle. “..Oh for the love of..” his irish accent only thickened in annoyance.

“Why are you here?!” they both said in unison as Shade took a cool sip of her drink. “Friend of yours?” she asks uninterested. “Sibling actually..” Triage replied trying to keep her eyes on the floor, this was embarrassing. “Minstrel, seriously why are you here?!” “I work here.” he replied simply. Shade already put two and two together as of why someone would be here, why the accent.

“And quit with the accent!” Triage said with her hand covering her eyes. “No, look.. Either ya buy a drink, watch the show or get out” Minstrel said picking up the bottle once more. “She’s with me.” Shade’s tone was flat, bored, and annoyed. Triage had to look over at Shade, was she sticking up for her? Why? 

“Oh? Is that so?.. Never took ya for a criminal, Tri.” he said glancing at his lavender haired sister. “I’m not! We’re.. Here with a friend, and just waiting!” “With one of the biggest gang enforcers in Megatropolis right..” 

So, that’s what Shade was in for. She’s a gangster, not just the daughter of one. Triage wasn’t the gal to know much about them, but she knew at least women weren’t allowed to be mobsters themselves rather, daughters, wives, sisters. 

Treasured things. What made this girl different? “Light me.” she heard Shade say, pulling Cigar out from the inner pockets of her suit jacket and placing it in her mouth. “That’ll cost extra lass.. And we’re not exactly a smokin’ club.” Minstrel replied, despite taking the silver zippo from Shade. “Then you put it on my father’s bill.” she replied, sharp killer eyes looking up at the man who shrugged a rather carefree shrug and bent down accordingly to light the mobster’s cigar.

As the ash started to form a grunt of approval came from the brown haired woman, crossing her legs as she now held the tobacco log between one or two fingers.

Meanwhile, the detective had declined a drink given by his sister, the apparent true owner of this establishment, whom also dismissed the employees at her side so that they could talk in private. “You don’t write” she said after savoring a sip of her wine. “I have nothing to write.” he replied, why did she want to see him? “You never visit mom and dad.” “My work takes up the biggest part of my time.” at this, Celo rolled her head to the other side and sighed. “Work this, time that. It was Celeste’s birthday last week, not a call from you, nor a letter.” Cello said in a rather irritated tone.

As she spoke, the detective couldn’t help but scratch the back of his head and look away. He honestly couldn’t help it. “You do this so often that I’m starting to think you never left that group at..” The mistress was stopped mid sentence by the detective as he suddenly shot a glare full of resentment and shame. “Don’t. Go there.” his tone was low, if one thing could get to the detective, it was his mistakes. His past.

A bit taken back by his rather low outburst, Cello didn’t dare press on that subject further. “Very well, but my people tell me that you’re working a case.” “When am i not?” “Well, not all cases involve your worst enemy as an ally.” she said leaning forward a bit with a grin. “Care to explain yourself?”

With a small sigh, Presto begun to explain his case without giving out the more classified like detail. And Cello took this with an interested expression. “So, you think your worst enemy might know something about this guy’s murder?..” she sat back after speaking, with a thought on her brain. The detective knew this never was good, when his sister had an idea.

“Head down to the cafe on Mayth street tomorrow around.. Two in the afternoon. A contact of mine can give you some info to help.” Cello said, glancing a bit to watch her brother write down this information. “Thank you, Cello.” he said as started to stand up.

“Well, we’re family. This is the least I can do.” she said waving him off, yet as he was about to exit out the door he stopped when he heard her speak again. “Oh! And.. Please do give the family a call, they’d love to hear from you.” “Yeah..”

When Presto got back out to the main section of the building, he spotted Shade. But no Triage. Becoming rather worried for his client he walked towards Shade whom seemed to be getting a dance from one of the men who worked here. He looked familiar, but this didn’t stop the detective.

“Where’s Triage?” he asked, Shade wasn’t replying, She barely spoke, which made this harder. “Shade, where is she?” he asked clearer, more growly. He hadn’t used that tone in years, the kind a leader had to his subordinates. “In the car.” she replied finally, not taking her eyes off her payed service. “She didn’t want to watch her brother do his job.” she added flatly. “What..?” Presto raised a brow a bit but it vanished into a frown.

“Whatever, we’re leaving.” he said “No.” he knew she was stubborn, but he didn’t have time for her to be stubborn! “Yoru. We. Are. Leaving.” again with that tone, not only did it bother him because he had to use it to get a response out of her, but it annoyed Shade to hear that name. With the smallest bite of her cigar she pulled from her suit pocket a small bit of money and handed it to Minstrel, who himself was unsettled by the sight of someone he knew, but glad they didn’t remember him.

With Minstrel gone, and her dance gone. Shade stood up, still towering over the detective and walked to the exit with a glare.

[readbookywooks]

The sun crept over the horizon, decided to make a run for it, and began to rise. But it would be some time before its slow light rolled across the sleeping Disc, herding the night ahead of it, and nocturnal shadows still ruled the city. They clustered now around The Mended Drum in Filigree Street, foremost of the city's taverns. It was famed not for its beer, which looked like maiden's water and tasted like battery acid, but for its clientele. It was said that if you sat long enough in the Drum, then sooner or later every major hero on the Disc would steal your horse. The atmosphere inside was still loud with talk and heavy with smoke although the landlord was doing all those things landlords do when they think it's time to close, like turn some of the lights out, wind up the clock, put a cloth over the pumps and, just in case, check the whereabouts of their club with the nails hammered in it. Not that the customers were taking the slightest bit of notice, of course. To most of the Drum's clientele even the nailed club would have been considered a mere hint. However, they were sufficiently observant to be vaguely worried by the tall dark figure standing by the bar and drinking his way through its entire contents. Lonely, dedicated drinkers always generate a mental field which ensures complete privacy, but this particular one was radiating a kind of fatalistic gloom that was slowly emptying the bar. This didn't worry the barman, because the lonely figure was engaged in a very expensive experiment. Every drinking place throughout the multiverse has them – those shelves of weirdly-shaped, sticky bottles that not only contain exotically-named liquid, which is often blue or green, but also odds and ends that bottles of real drink would never stoop to contain, such as whole fruits, bits of twig and, in extreme cases, small drowned lizards. No-one knows why barmen stock so many, since they all taste like treacle dissolved in turpentine. It has been speculated that they dream of a day when someone will walk in off the street unbidden and ask for a glass of Peach Corniche with A Hint Of Mint and overnight the place will become somewhere To Be Seen At. The stranger was working his way along the row. WHAT is THAT GREEN ONE? The landlord peered at the label. 'It says it's Melon Brandy,' he said doubtfully. 'It says it's bottled by some monks to an ancient recipe,'he added. I WILL TRY IT. The man looked sideways at the empty glasses on the counter, some of them still containing bits of fruit salad, cherries on a stick and small paper umbrellas. 'Are you sure you haven't had enough?' he said. It worried him vaguely that he couldn't seem to make out the stranger's face. The glass, with its drink crystallising out on the sides, disappeared into the hood and came out again empty. No. WHAT is THE YELLOW ONE WITH THE WASPS IN IT? 'Spring Cordial, it says. Yes?' YES. AND THEN THE BLUE ONE WITH THE GOLD FLECKS. 'Er. Old Overcoat?' YES. AND THEN THE SECOND ROW. 'Which one did you have in mind?' ALL OF THEM. The stranger remained bolt upright, the glasses with their burdens of syrup and assorted vegetation disappearing into the hood on a production line basis. This is it, the landlord thought, this is style, this is where I buy a red jacket and maybe put some monkey nuts and a few gherkins on the counter, get a few mirrors around the place, replace the sawdust. He picked up a beer-soaked cloth and gave the woodwork a few enthusiastic wipes, speading the drips from the cordial glasses into a rainbow smear that took the varnish off. The last of the usual customers put on his hat and staggered out, muttering to himself. I DON'T SEE THE POINT, the stranger said. 'Sorry?' WHAT is SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN? 'How many drinks have you had?' FORTY-SEVEN. 'Just about anything, then,' said the barman and, because he knew his job and knew what was expected of him when people drank alone in the small hours, he started to polish a glass with the slops cloth and said, 'Your lady thrown you out, has she?' PARDON? 'Drowning your sorrows, are you?' I HAVE NO SORROWS. 'No, of course not. Forget I mentioned it.' He gave the glass a few more wipes. 'Just thought it helps to have someone to talk to,' he said. The stranger was silent for a moment, thinking. Then he said: You WANT TO TALK TO ME? 'Yes. Sure. I'm a good listener.' NO-ONE EVER WANTED TO TALK TO ME BEFORE. 'That's a shame.' THEY NEVER INVITE ME TO PARTIES, YOU KNOW. 'Tch.' THEY ALL HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I DONT HAVE A SINGLE FRIEND. 'Everyone ought to have a friend,' said the barman sagely. I THINK — 'Yes?' I THINK . . . I THINK I COULD BE FRIENDS WITH THE GREEN BOTTLE. The landlord slid the octagon-bottle along the counter. Death took it and tilted it over the glass. The liquid tinkled on the rim. YOU DRUNK I'M THINK, DON'T YOU? 'I serve anyone who can stand upright best out of three,' said the landlord. YOURRRE ABSOROOTLY RIGHT. BUT I — The stranger paused, one declamatory finger in the air. WAS WHAT I SAYING? 'You said I thought you were drunk.' AH. YES, BUT I CAN BE SHOBER ANY TIME I LIKE. THIS ISH AN EXPERIMENT. AND NOW I WOULD LIKES TO EXPERIMENT WITH THE ORANGE BRANDY AGAIN. The landlord sighed, and glanced at the clock. There was no doubt that he was making a lot of money, especially since the stranger didn't seem inclined to worry about overcharging or short change. But it was getting late; in fact it was getting so late that it was getting early. There was also something about the solitary customer that unsettled him. People in The Mended Drum often drank as though there was no tomorrow, but this was the first time he'd actually felt they might be right. I MEAN, WHAT HAVE I GOT TO LOOK FORWARD TO? WHERE'S THE SENSE IN IT ALL? WHAT IS IT REALLY ALL ABOUT? 'Can't say, my friend. I expect you'll feel better after a good night's sleep.' SLEEP? SLEEP? I NEVER SLEEP. I'M WOSSNAME, PROVERBIAL FOR IT. 'Everyone needs their sleep. Even me,' he hinted. THEY ALL HATE ME, YOU KNOW. 'Yes, you said. But it's a quarter to three.' The stranger turned unsteadily and looked around the silent room. THERE'S NO-ONE IN THE PLACE BUT YOU AND I, he said. The landlord lifted up the flap and came around the bar, helping the stranger down from his stool. I HAVEN'T GOT A SINGLE FRIEND. EVEN CATS FIND ME AMUSING. A hand shot out and grabbed a bottle of Amanita Liquor before the man managed to propel its owner to the door, wondering how someone so thin could be so heavy. I DON'T HAVE TO BE DRUNK, I SAID. WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE TO BE DRUNK? IS IT FUN? 'Helps them forget about life, old chap. Now just you lean there while I get the door open —' FORGET ABOUT LIFE. HA. HA. 'You come back any time you like, y'hear?' YOU'D REALLY LIKE TO SEE ME AGAIN? The landlord looked back at the small heap of coins on the bar. That was worth a little weirdness. At least this one was a quiet one, and seemed to be harmless. 'Oh, yes,' he said, propelling the stranger into the street and retrieving the bottle in one smooth movement. 'Drop in anytime.' THAT'S THE NICEHEST THING — The door slammed on the rest of the sentence. Ysabell sat up in bed. The knocking came again, soft and urgent. She pulled the covers up to her chin. 'Who is it?' she whispered. 'It's me, Mort,' came the hiss under the door. 'Let me in, please!' 'Wait!' Ysabell scrambled frantically on the bedside table for the matches, knocking over a bottle of toilet water and dislodging a box of chocolates that was now mostly discarded wrappers. Once she'd got the candle alight she adjusted its position for maximum effect, tweaked the line of her nightdress into something more revealing, and said: 'It's not locked.' Mort staggered into the room, smelling of horses and frost and scumble. 'I hope,' said Ysabell archly, 'that you have not forced your way in here in order to take advantage of your position in this household.' Mort looked around him. Ysabell was heavily into frills. Even the dressing table seemed to be wearing a petticoat. The whole room wasn't so much furnished as lingeried. 'Look, I haven't got time to mess around,' he said. 'Bring that candle into the library. And for heaven's sake put on something sensible, you're overflowing.' Ysabell looked down, and then her head snapped up. 'Well!' Mort poked his head back round the door. 'It's a matter of life and death,' he added, and disappeared. Ysabell watched the door creak shut after him, revealing the blue dressing gown with the tassels that Death had thought up for her as a present last Hogswatch and which she hadn't the heart to throw away, despite the fact that it was a size too small and had a rabbit on the pocket. Finally she swung her legs out of bed, slipped into the shameful dressing gown, and padded out into the corridor. Mort was waiting for her. 'Won't father hear us?' she said. 'He's not back. Come on.' 'How can you tell?' 'The place feels different when he's here. It's – it's like the difference between a coat when it's being worn and when it's hanging on a hook. Haven't you noticed?' 'What are we doing that's so important?' Mort pushed open the library door. A gust of warm, dry air drifted out, and the door hinges issued a protesting creak. 'We're going to save someone's life,' he said. 'A princess, actually.' Ysabell was instantly fascinated. 'A real princess? I mean can she feel a pea through a dozen mattresses?' 'Can she —?' Mort felt a minor worry disappear. 'Oh. Yes. I thought Albert had got it wrong.' 'Are you in love with her?' Mort came to a standstill between the shelves, aware of the busy little scritchings inside the book covers. 'It's hard to be sure,' he said. 'Do I look it?' 'You look a bit flustered. How does she feel about you?' 'Don't know.' 'Ah,' said Ysabell knowingly, in the tones of an expert. 'Unrequited love is the worst kind. It's probably not a good idea to go taking poison or killing yourself, though,' she added thoughtfully. 'What are we doing here? Do you want to find her book to see if she marries you?' 'I've read it, and she's dead,' said Mort. 'But only technically. I mean, not really dead.' 'Good, otherwise that would be necromancy. What are we looking for?' 'Albert's biography.' 'What for? I don't think he's got one.' 'Everyone's got one.' 'Well, he doesn't like people asking personal questions. I looked for it once and I couldn't find it. Albert by itself isn't much to go on. Why is he so interesting?' Ysabell lit a couple of candles from the one in her hand and filled the library with dancing shadows. 'I need a powerful wizard and I think he's one.' 'What, Albert?' 'Yes. Only we're looking for Alberto Malich. He's more than two thousand years old, I think.' 'What, Albert?' 'Yes. Albert.' 'He never wears a wizard's hat,' said Ysabell doubtfully. 'He lost it. Anyway, the hat isn't compulsory. Where do we start looking?' 'Well, if you're sure . . . the Stack, I suppose. That's where father puts all the biographies that are more than five hundred years old. It's this way.' She led the way past the whispering shelves to a door set in a cul-de-sac. It opened with some effort and the groan of the hinges reverberated around the library; Mort fancied for a moment that all the books paused momentarily in their work just to listen.