#satin stowaway

[kingofthe-egirls]

STOWAWAY: LUFFY x HIYORI

(cw: you are still the narrator, wano spoilers, hiyori gets sick from motion sickness, food/eating)

Songs: “Leader Of A New Regime” by Lorde

words: 1.4k

****

Luffy sits across from you, his legs spread and dangling from the wooden crate he’s straddling. He’s appraising you, his eyes hazy and his soft lips parted. He’s staring at your frame shamelessly. His crew is somewhere above deck, far away from this smuggled-into, tiny space.

Mugiwara no Luffy.

He’s sliding his strawberry tongue across his lower lip. A small, raspy breath leaves him as he kicks a sandaled heel against the wooden crate. He swings his leg, the dark hair shadowing his calf muscles.

“What’s your name, stowaway?”

He asks you, plainly.

His black coat sits heavy around his shoulders, his red cardigan left open over soft, strengthened abs. You shift, in the barrel he’d seen you pop out of after he’d spied you in this closet space. You lick your lips, switching between the lies in your mind you’ve studied like prayers.

“Hiyori.”

It’s your true name,

the one your father

gave you.

He smirks, pleased. “Nice to meetcha, Hiyori!” He says your name plainly, with an accent so different from your own dialect. He says it like—Hee-ya-or-ee—as he sounds it out. He seems to like its taste.

“Same,” you murmur.

He squats on the crate, his sandals firmly planted with his heels flat on the wood. You scratch the back of your neck, behind your satin collar.

“So, whatcha stowin’ away for?” He tilts his head, steady in balance even as the ship tips in rapid waves. Your own stomach is seasick, sweat beading cold along your face.

You swipe away the moisture on your soft upper lip. “Escaped,” You whisper, throat scratchy. You haven’t had fresh water in several days.

His expression scrunches, as he stares at you with a crooked head.

“Saw your wanted poster—in the News Coo,” You say, stepping out of the barrel on shaky feet. You’re wearing plum, pleated pants that billow out before tucking in at your ankles. Your kimono is a matching plum satin that’s embroidered with cream-silk cherry blossoms. Your wooden sandals clack on the storage room’s floor. You reach out to steady yourself on a nearby crate. “Sick—,” You warn, heavy-headed, before swallowing down the bile in your throat.

Strawhat Luffy suddenly hops down from his perch, his face stricken as he closes the short distance between you. His hands are warm and soothing as they cradle your face. “Hey…,” He whispers, worried, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head.

Your stomach churns.

Luffy sees you turn to wretch into the barrel you’d just been stowing away inside. It smells vile.

“Sorry…,” you rasp, swiping the back of your hand across your mouth.

Luffy is silent, before grabbing your hand and leading you upstairs.

****

It’s four days, before you’re allowed to leave the infirmary bed.

Sanji—chef with an even stranger accent than Luffy’s—is sitting next to you, spoon feeding you ginger soda.

“Slow sips,” he’s saying, his voice gentle and quiet. His flaxen hair is sifting over one eye.

“S’okay…,” You say, reaching for the bottle yourself. You’re sick of feeling sick. “I can drink the rest myself.”

Sanji scowls, but he hands you the green-glass bottle. You sip from it, gently. Eventually, your stomach settles.

“So…are you looking to join our crew?” He sits back in his chair, splayed out legs strong and lithe beneath his black slacks. The style is so strange here. So varied.

Searching the ceiling for answers, you suck your teeth as you decide what to say next. The spiderweb in the rafter isn’t helping you much at all.

“Sort of…,” you say, drawling out the words as slowly as syrup. They taste strange on your tongue, too.

“Is someone after you?”

You shake your head.

Sanji stares at you, his eyes burning hot coals into the side of your face.

You study the floor.

“So, what is it you want, Hiyori?”

You stare at the floorboards, your eyes focusing in on the glossy wood. There’s an acorn-shaped spot of knotted wood. It doesn’t help keep your head from spinning, and your saliva still tastes like ginger.

You sip the soda, and

speak:

“Freedom.”

****

So now you’re straddling the neck of the Going Merry’s goathead. Your hands steady yourself as you spill your stories to Strawhat Luffy.

He’s scrunching his eyebrows at you: drawn dark and serious over brown, sunlit eyes. He’s silently listening.

“…and I just wouldn’t. He said I had to, so I left. Escaped. Swam in a barrel until I somehow found my way to your ship. I need ya,” you sigh, swiping your hand across your face as you slurp up the sweet juice of the plums he’s feeding you.

“Need me?”

You nod, sinking your teeth into the plum’s scarlet flesh.

“Aren’t ya supposed to be the best, most dangerous pirate in the seas? News Coo says so much shit about ya,” You swallow, squishing the stone fruit between your forefinger and thumb. You steal another bite. “So you’re the person I want to have help me…find something. M’not sure what it is yet,” you sigh, seeing him perk up at your words. You stare at the plum’s stone heart. You scratch it with your thumbnail as you speak. “It’s silly, but…i have ambitions, y’know?”

“Dreams?”

Strawhat Luffy finishes your sentence. He regards you with softness: curious and honest.

You nod.

“What are your dreams, Hiyori?” He asks, sparkles in his eyes shot gold from the sun. He grins, radiant.

Fuck.

“Um…,” You stare at the side of the ship, at the sea’s choppy waves. The boat rocks still, but ginger and plums have settled your stomach—somewhat. You scrunch your nose. “I’m not sure…of the specifics. Yet. It’s something—with dreams. And…stars. And moonlight. But that’s it,” You say as you shake your head. Your thoughts are so scattered—so symbolic.

“It’s a song.”

Strawhat Luffy tilts his head. “A song?” He seems curious, intelligent. Interested. Chewing your lip, you respond.

“Yeah…a song. Something so—beautiful, that. Everyone else will listen to it and…say that they’re in love with me,” you trail off, swallowing the last of your plum piece.

Luffy scratches his head.

“Sounds like ya just kinda want someone to fall in love with ya,” he snickers. He sees your maddening blush and stops in his tracks. “S-sorry! I wasn’t meaning to be rude—,”

“No, it’s alright,” you snicker, scrunching your nose as you shrug in defeat. “That’s a way more honest way of saying it.”

“So,” he touches your knee, leaning in like he’s whispering you a secret, “What is it you actually dream about?”

“Sex,” you whisper, sedated by his chestnut eyes and sweet stone fruits.

“Sex?” He asks, tilting his head in earnest curiosity. You nod, far too risky with your own honesty.

“Sex is something I’ve dreamed about for a really, really long time. It’s something I really wanna start having, so that I know what it is and if it’s something I wanna keep doing. Y’know? So…for sex to start happening, I need…someone in my life. Who sees me. And…”

Here is where you turn sheepish.

“…falls in love with me.”

Silence.

Luffy is staring at you, his eyes tracing your features like he’s an artist studying a painting. His breath is sweet, as he speaks in whispers, “Is…sex something you need, from me?” He asks it curiously, appreciatively, as if he’s admiring you for saying such a secret thing.

You swallow.

“So…yeah,” you admit, fearsome blush staining your cheeks rosy. He smiles as you fidget with your fingers in your lap. They’re still sticky from the shared plums.

“Is that why ya liked my wanted poster?” He grins, all teeth.

You nod.

“Shishishi!” He snickers, hand on the back of his head to keep his sunny hat in place. He rocks back and forth, pleased. “Seriously?” He asks, wide grin only getting wider. He shrugs, delighted. “Me?”

You nod, sober as the sea breeze blows wispy turquoise hairs across your face. Your voice is steady.

“You.”

He smiles even wider now, as he slaps the back of his hand against your kneecap. He stands, letting out a satisfied grunt. “Welp!” He says as he helps you stand up, “We’d better get started,” he supports your elbow as he helps you stumble down from the Merry’s sheephead.

“Started on what?” You ask, flushed and rosy from the brief physical contact. He stares at you like he’s confused as to why you’re not getting it yet.

“Falling in love, duh!”

****

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Small OFMD things I’m obsessed with

Frenchie calling Izzy a cheeky bitch

‘cheers m’dears’

‘Jizzy’

Just Frenchie. Oluwande: ‘What does a viceroy do?” Frenchie: ‘Whatever the fuck he wants babe’

Just Officer Hornberry living his life being fully content and happy being kidnapped and sold by pirates, my man was 100% ready to give the prostitute lifestyle his all too

Whenever Izzy’s hair gets extremely messed up and poofy LOL I can’t even deal with it

Ed’s weird dance WHIP MY BALLS

Spanish Jackie M’NOSES. Her interaction with Chaunchey too lmfao

Stede sleeping in a frilly nightgown with a satin eye mask. I’M JUST A STOWAWAY

Lucius just never doing ANY work. Pretending to hammer. Pretending to write something. And the entire finger arc. BEGONE YOU FOUL THING

Seriously the best show of all time.

[crashfu]

Never seen a bug like this in Ohio before, but then again I found it hitch-hiking in a box of bananas at work, so who knows where it came from?

No really, if you know where it came from, or what it is, please tell me; I want to know if its safe to release. And or what I can feed it.

Update: I do believe my little friend is a Satin Stowaway moth.  Need to do more research though; all the sources I’ve looked at so far don’t mention what the adults eat or their lifespans or if they can cause any environmental harm if released in my area..

[underworldobsessed]

Fic Summary: A twist on the year on the run, what if Bo-Katan had ended up on the run with Satine, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. A series of one shots based around that concept, where the Jedi ended up tasked with protecting both Kryze sisters instead of just one.

Chapter Summary: Satine had barely managed to escape Mandalore with her jetii protectors, and in the chaos, none of them noticed the stowaway that had slipped on board to join.

I've thought about this for some time, and I've been wanting to write some stuff for the Year on the Run for some time. But I've also had it in my head about 'what if Bo-Katan joined them on the run'. So here we are. This will be a series of one-shots that take place in this timeline, and may or may not be a linear timeline. I haven't decided just yet.

I hope you all enjoy!

[sprout-fics]

Wedding Day with Mand’alor Din Headcanons

okay okay okay so the people in The Stowaway discord have enabled me so here we go (written for GN reader)

THIS IS LITERALLY SO INDULGENT IM SORRYYYYYY

Din does not consider himself to be a very sociable or public person, and that doesn’t change much after he takes the throne in Sundari. So a public wedding is not something he’d necessarily be in favor of

However, after some convincing by members of his inner council, he decides to go with it because such a display would go a long way in displaying the potential of New Mandalore’s potential for peace and prosperity

That being said the event is still a semi-private affair, with the public eye being limited to a single balcony wave after the ceremony later

Mandalore wedding traditions don’t require much, as most of the time vows are said in the presence of the couple themselves and perhaps with a scarce audience. They’re meant to be short, as sometimes they are needed to be spoken in the midst of battle or grave circumstances

Which means the long tedious vows often spoken of at weddings don’t really occur in this case

But enough about the details, let’s focus on you

You long ago agreed to spend your life with Din, but it was less a formal agreement and more an inevitable soulful promise to each other

Bridesmen and groomsmen aren’t really a requirement in this ceremony, and to be honest I can’t see any of Din’s companions willing to subject themselves to the ordeal. You’d likely have to wrestle Bo-Katan, Cara, and Fennec into wearing dresses, let alone being bridesmaids. Same goes for most of Din’s male companions

There’d be some exceptions. Omera, for one, would love to help you pick out your attire and arrange your hair/makeup/etc’ for the ceremony. Peli would be involved too, though I’m sure she’d be making jokes about having a speeder with a half tank of gas running out back in case you get cold feet

I can see Cobb being possibly interested in walking you down the aisle, if you’d let him. Same goes for Paz. (bc I’m a sucker for older brother Paz dynamics) You’d have to convince Boba, but in the end he’d be willing too

OBVIOUSLY Grogu is ringbearer/flowerboy, is that even a question?

Traditional Mandalorian wedding garments don’t stray far from typical armor, but in such a ostentatious occasion Din would likely wear something considerably more ceremonial, still tying in his armor components as one with the title ‘Mand’alor’ does

Likewise your garments/gown would pay homage to Mandalorian tradition as well, be it a sash with a Mudhorn signet, some type of faux armored corset/gloves, or even a style that pays homage to the late Duchess Satine Kryze

Either way you look absolutely stunning, and there’s a collective gasp in the ceremony chamber/throne room when you enter. You don’t really listen, your eyes are on Din

He has his helmet off, and you can see his brown eyes shimmering with love and adoration as you walk up the aisle towards him. More than once he looks like he’s about to cry, but then he sets his jaw and offers you the softest smile instead

When you reach him, taking his outstretched hand, he whispers to you “Mesh’la” and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard

The Armorer is the one to oversee your vows, short as they are. With each spoken word in Mando’a you feel your heart swelling, an unbridled happiness sweeping through you and stealing the air from your lungs with the force of it

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde."  We are one whether we are together or apart, we will share everything and we will raise our children as warriors.

You think you’ll break in two with the joy inside you, but it’s alright since half of you has belonged to Din since long ago anyways

Din is extremely bashful at the applause that follows, ducking his head to hide his reddening face and ears

He manages to hold it together for the balcony wave, with confetti showering down from the upper levels of Sundari like flower petals blessing your union. The roar of the city is deafening with it’s applause, and soon you two retreat inside to the reception

It’s a rather raucous event, given the people Din tends to associate with, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s booze, brawling, and half-drunken rambling by several attendees

It isn’t soon before Din retreats with you in tow, taking a quiet moment in the rebuilt gardens of the palace

It’s night now, and the quiet evening breeze carries with it the sound of the reception inside. Yet it’s quiet, and the moonlight streams down from above to bathe you in a milky white light that illuminates the white of your garments

Din has to catch his breath because for a moment he’s sure he married some heavenly being, an angel descended from the stars to love him

He isn’t one for such poetry, instead choosing to hold you in his arms and kiss you with the same passion as the first time he ever touched you, knowing that this happiness will be with him, forever and ever and ever

[windupnamazu]

for the voyage is long and the winds don't blow

ffxivwrite2021 #26 (free day): treasure hunt

⮞ lunya, melmeltan, coco, guest-starring fistsoflightning's lumelle and elwin and almost every member of «flowr». 1593 words. ⮞ pirate au in an alternate eorzea where the allagan empire still exists and its prince has run away from home. ⮞ the last place a noble bride-to-be should find herself is aboard a pirate ship. unless, y'know, the bride-to-be does not want to be married.

treasure hunt: a game in which players try to find something that has been hidden.

The ship teetered dangerously in the waves, dots of seawater splaying across the little round windows of the cabin with every churn. Melmeltan determinedly did not look at them nor the swaying of the crystal lantern on the ceiling or how ominously the gold-detailed furniture creaked all around her, focusing on the crystal of her necklace, the satin of her gloves, the tips of her shoes—which were pretty cute, now that she was looking at them, but probably shouldn't have been her first choice of footwear for running away from home. She made a mental note for the next time she had to escape a marriage she did not want.

Miss Pirate Captor had a shock of pure white hair, swept in bouncing waves by salt and wind, and an equally white splashing of freckles across her face. Besides the girl's outfit—flowing shirt, silken sash around her hips, enough exposed skin that her mother would probably faint at the sight—and the scars that laced up and down her exposed arms and legs, nothing of her bearing nor speech suggested she was one of the barbaric fiends her father always fretted about whenever they dined at the imperial palace and someone inevitably brought up the surge of them on the high seas, because the Allagan Empire was in its prime and the rapid growth of its land meant a high boom in maritime trade. In fact, Melmeltan couldn't pinpoint her accent at all, and she'd encountered all sorts of people from across the imperial territories.

"Pardon me," Melmeltan tried to pipe up, her naturally quiet voice more of a whisper beneath the crashing of the waves.

"Gods, why did we have to drop into the capital?" her captor was busy griping to the duo guarding the door. Those two seemed even younger than Melmeltan—an Elezen lass who hadn't hit her growth spurt yet and had her hair in twintails and a Lalafellin boy who brought the scent of gunpowder into the room when he entered. Neither of them seemed very pirate-y to Melmeltan, but honestly, what did she know beyond her books? Hells, why did she even need guards—she was unarmed, they were in the middle of the ocean, and she'd snuck aboard this vessel perfectly willingly. "We picked up one prince, just one, just once, and now we're the number one choice of boating tours for every hoity-toity rich stowaway across Hydaelyn."

"Lunya, you like-like the first one we accidentally got. I'm not sure you can complain," the Elezen girl pointed out, and Miss Captor—Lunya, Melmeltan supposed—made some kind of garbled noise as her face turned a fascinating shade of red.

"Pardon me," Melmeltan said a little louder. The three of them turned to her. No, they really didn't feel like pirates at all. She could almost imagine passing them in a market. "Did you say you picked up a prince?"

Everyone who didn't have their head in the sand knew that the Imperial Crown Prince had been missing for some time now. A supremely generous reward was being offered to anyone who could find him, and while rumors picked up and fell here and there no one had managed to track him down yet. It was almost like he'd vanished on the wind itself. The palace had been in chaos ever since, its inhabitants torn between electing the next heir in his absence and scorning him for abandoning the throne like a coward, just as they knew he would by nature of his foreigner blood. Even worse were the rumors that he was dead, by his own hand or by kidnappers or who knows what.

No one knew all of this better than Melmeltan, who beyond her capacity as the imperial library's chief librarian and botanist also served as her father's eyes and ears, and had known the crown prince since she was born.

"Depends on who's asking," Lunya said coldly as she crossed her arms and tilted her chin upward in the cool blue light of the crystal lantern, and in that moment there was no doubt that she was a bonafide pirate straight from the dashing and thrilling tales that flew off the shelves of bookstores with each new release. An axe glinted dangerously on her back, but Melmeltan did not falter as she pushed herself from the chair. Whatever G'raha was doing on a pirate ship was… well, legally, it kind of was her business as a vassal of his empire, but as his friend she just wanted to know if he was alive.

Gathering the skirt of her dress, she dipped into a curtsey. Social gatherings and the political peacocking of the nobility were never her cup of tea, but Melmeltan had never once denied the privilege of her birth nor the lessons forced upon her.

"I am Melmeltan Macha," she said. "Daughter of Duke Y'macha and Duchess Mimiel. Raha—the prince—is a dear friend of mine." Seeing the doubt still on their faces, she solemnly added, "I am not looking to bring him home."

The boy and girl at the door traded glances. Lunya placed her fists on her hips, violet eyes piercing through her as if taking judgement of her soul.

"He's spoken of you," she finally said, something complex in her eyes as she gestured to the Lalafellin boy. "Elwin, get the catboy."

"Which one?"

"Which one—you know which one!"

Meanwhile, back in the ports of Allag's capital, a Lalafellin bard lifted a barrel lid up and peered at the pile of fish inside.

"Melmeltan?" he called, crystal cut eyes sparkling with perpetual tears, carefully setting the lid back down when once again he did not find his best friend in a barrel. Coco rubbed at his eyes, determined not to start crying in the middle of the fish market for the fourth time in his life. "Ahh, where did she go?"

"Don't worry, kid," a very orange Hyur guffawed from behind him, clapping him on the shoulder except he was just a little too tall and didn't bother to bend down so he actually just slapped Coco across the back of the head. "We'll find your little girlfriend in no time."

"I'm not a kid," Coco wailed for maybe the eighth time to Andres that day, a little bit of impatience slipping into his voice this time which wasn't intimidating in the slightest as he looked like a bipedal sheep. "And Lady Melmeltan is not my girlfriend! I won't have you harming her reputation when she's about to be wed!"

"You don't sound very excited about that, dearie," the group's mage noted, squatting down beside him. "And from what we understand, it doesn't seem like she was excited either." Hanabi was the only member of this so-called detective team he honestly felt comfortable with—they claimed to be sent by Lord Macha, but with the exception of this wizard none of them felt even remotely qualified to be leading the search and rescue of a duke's disappeared daughter. Especially not the two-year-old.

"Well, what I think doesn't matter," Coco mumbled, definitely not sulking. Defeated, he found a bench on the side of the street and clambered on to watch the crowd still bustling through the streets well past midnight. "...I shouldn't have left her behind."

The sad thing was that even with how long they'd known each other, even though he trusted her more than anyone else, he still didn't know if Melmeltan would have followed him if he asked. Didn't know if she resented him now for not trying, or if she'd missed him at all in the three years he'd been gone. He fumbled with the crystal pendant at his neck, wondering why it looked so blurry.

"Woah, did you make him cry again?" A head of blond hair popped up by his side. "Geez, what did ya do, Andres, bite him or somethin'?"

"Bite!" the little boy at the girl detective's side squealed, and he promptly bit Coco's ankle. Coco screamed, as did the boy's sister who swooped in and scooped him away.

"No, Cherry!" Babycorn scolded. "You don't know where he's been!"

Three sighs sounded in unison as the remaining three members of the group followed in—an Elezen who definitely couldn't see past her haircut and eyepatch, a very purple Au Ri man with knives that were longer than Coco's entire body, and a Hrothgar who would not stop talking about food.

Rubbing his poor little ankle, Coco wished not for the first time that he'd been brave enough to pursue knighthood when he was younger instead of becoming some wandering bard. At least then he wouldn't have to be followed around by these weird people who just wanted to bully him. At least then he would've had a chance to stay by Melmeltan's side for longer.

Wherever you are, he told the distant moon, out of his feeble and humble reach, I just hope you're safe.

Oblivious to his worry, the Flowr Detective Agency that was not, in fact, hired by Lord Y'macha, drew a crowd around them when Andres and Babycorn began to physically squabble, biting and pulling at each other's clothes and hair.

[starksvixen]

Shattered - Part 2

Summary: A Jedi and a Mandalorian. Impossible right? Not for Satine and Obi - Wan. Hell, he even said he would leave the Jedi Order for her. But you wished it was you... 

A/N - I have only watched a few episodes of Clone Wars so I am not overall familar with Satine and Obi - Wan’s romance. I just thought it would be a spicy fanfiction hehe. This story is also not based on any specific Clone Wars episode, but rather an imaginary situation.

There is a reason the quote “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” is around. Despite the deep cuts left in your chest due to your shattered heart, you used the pain as fuel, a purpose. To become hardened, to never let another man into your heart like that again. You were a Mandalorian and much to Satine’s dislike, you were a warrior at heart, meant to protect others and your people. 

You repeated these words to yourself over and over during your stay on the planet. Keeping your conversations short with the Jedi while you trained by yourself. Only talking to Satine if she promised to not bring up the heartbreak. 

With every other attack that came against the Duchess, you became more accurate, more deadly. You were liking the person you were turning into, a true Mandalorian. A warrior in your armor that people feared. It felt good to no longer be the weak girl the General had left you as. 

Until today. 

You watched the ships being loaded up closely, ensuring that none of those droids could stowaway. Every time you saw one crawl into the luggage, your blaster was up by your eyes and the droid would be dead on the ground. 

This time, Obi Wan was shoving something into one of the luggage carts as you watched one crawl it’s way onto the bag. Without a second thought, you quickly shoot it off, not minding the shot’s close proximity to the Jedi’s head. 

Apparently, that was Obi Wan’s last straw, storming over to you. You let a soft sigh release, one soft enough your modulator couldn’t translate. Still gentle as ever, he grabs your arm and takes you inside, to a secluded corner away from prying arms of workers.

“What the bloody hell has gotten into you, (Y/N)?” he exclaims into a whisper.

“I’ve been doing my job,” you reply in a flat tone.

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been avoiding me, shutting out Satine, taking more risks. All you ever do is go from training by yourself to sitting in your room doing Gods knows what. It’s not healthy!” 

“It doesn’t matter...”

“Yes, it do-”

All you hear is Satine’s scream, sending your entire body into flight or fight. Pushing past Obi - Wan, you run out to the tarmac to see the place littered with dead clones and Satine in the hands of a pirate.

Quickly, you lift your gun to take out the threat, but an invisible Force pushes the tip to the ground. You look at Obi - Wan, your eyes wide underneath your mask as his hand stays subtly lifted. 

“Put the Duchess down, or you will regret it,” 

“And how would I regret it? The Duchess is worth more then the two of you combined!” the pirate laughs. 

That’s when the Force on your blaster was released. With a smirk beneath your mask, you quickly shoot the leader, sending his lackies into a blood induced rage. 

Out of the corner of your eye, Obi - Wan wordlessly takes his place behind your back, hearing the loud buzz of a lightsaber being enacted. All of them were coming at you both too fast for you to shoot. So as the first one came, you used your blaster to smack them straight across the face. 

Given the small space in time, you grab your staff from your pocket, clicking a button to expand it. Then, as each pirate came running towards you, you could easily smack them out of the way. Reaching into the slot on your armor, your pulled the blade seated there and stabbed each of them in the thigh as they landed. The bastards weren’t going to get away with this. 

Once all of the pirates were either dead or groaning on the ground, Satine runs towards you. Quickly looking away, you return your weapons to their proper place as you think she is running towards Obi - Wan. But she runs straight into your arms and without hesitation you hold your oldest friend close to you. 

“You shouldn’t have fell for the trick,” she whispers. 

“(Y/N), no!” you hear the real Satine from behind you. 

Just as the changeling uses her hidden blade to try and slit your throat, she freezes with the blade pressed slightly into your skin. The changeling fell to the ground, a lightsaber shaped hole in her chest. 

Obi - Wan looks at you with wide eyes as you breathe heavily. Without him, you most likely would have met your doom. The pure adrenaline coursing through your veins helps you to ignore the steady stream of blood pouring all over your armor from the wound on your neck. You bend and quickly grab your blaster, your eyes scanning what was left of the luggage carts for any more threats.

“Anakin, get the Duchess on board and get us out of here. I’ll take care of (Y/N),” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Anakin quickly escort your friend on board and the ship roaring to life. As your body realizes she’s safe, your knees give out under the pressure of your sight spinning. Before you fully collapse to the ground, a pair of strong arms keeps you up, throwing an arm around his shoulders and helping you onto the ship. 

Once in a secluded room, Obi - Wan quickly closes the door, your heart picking up at his presence. He quickly collects what he needs from nearby storage carts, obviously waiting for you to take your helmet off.

“Thank you for your help, but I can take care of myself,” you hoarsely say, the pain from your neck intensifying. 

“She’s safe with Anakin, you need me more,”

You sigh hard once he collects everything and sets it beside where you now sit. As he goes to take your helmet off, you quickly snatch his wrists to stop him. 

“(Y/N)...what did I do to break your trust?” Obi - Wan whispers, picking up on the subtle que. 

“You didn’t...” 

Slowly, you release his wrists, your helmet clad head pointing towards the ground as you felt the weakness you always felt around him set in. Tears spring into your eyes from the pain in your neck and the one in your chest.

“What did I do to lose you?” 

“I made you, so you would be happy,” you softly say, the pain escalating at an alarming rate. 

“But my dear, I have been quite the opposite,” 

“What are you talking about? You’re with Satine, I see how you look at her.”

“How I look at her pales in comparison to how I look at you,” 

You stay silent, trying to process his words and suppress the butterflies to threaten to tear your gut in two. The vulnerability sets in, making you tense up, making the pain even worse all over. You can’t help but a small, audible sob echo from you as it all becomes to overwhelming.

“My love,” you hear him whisper. “I’ve never been interested in Satine.” 

Slowly, you feel his hands rest against either side of your helmet. This time, you don’t stop him. You opt to keep your head tilted to the ground, the stickiness from the blood against your neck adding to the overwhelming feelings that blur your mind. You feel the metal slip away from your hair, a fresh wave of cool air hitting your face and neck as Obi - Wan slowly removes your chest plate next. He lays them like Satine does, in a certain order, always showing respect. 

“(Y/N), it’s you.”

You feel two fingers slip between your chin, lifting your face to meet his as your tears begin to slow. 

“It’s always been you,” 

He leans in without pause, you meeting him halfway through until your lips collide. 

All of the emotions pent up, the same things that had overwhelmed you moments before, were gone. Your mind was clear for the first time in months, the only thing running through your thoughts was him. The way your lips danced together, like they were somehow training together in your minds, it sent goosebumps up your spine and down your arms. 

There was something in the way his hands slipped from your face to your hips, like if he let go you would disappear again. Your seated position changes as you stand together, his frame pressed so tightly against you despite your remaining armor you could feel every muscle. As if it was engrained, your arms slip up his chest, around his neck, into his hair. Gently, you pull at the roots, not to force the kiss away, but as a silent message of longing. How much you had waited for this moment. 

Eventually, you come up for air, both of you sharing a soft pant at the tension broken between the two of you. A smile unlike any other graces your face, happiness replacing the adrenaline that was once in your veins. 

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” he whispers, his swollen lips pressing against yours softly with his words. 

“And I love you, Obi - Wan Kenobi,” you whisper in return. 

After some time, he sat you down again, cleaning and stiching up the wound on your neck. Not without a chaste kiss here and there however. As he threads the needle through the last point it was needed, a thought comes to mind.

“What about the Order?” 

A soft silence settles between you as the Jedi ponders your words. But only for a moment. 

“When Satine first caught onto my feelings, I told her I would leave the Jedi Order if you told me too,” 

As he threads and ties off the last stitch, your eyes connect again as you ponder his words now too. 

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you,”

“But then we can’t be together, (Y/N),” 

You ponder once more. 

“What they don’t know can’t kill them,” you mumble softly, running a hand through his tangled locks that still somehow remained soft. 

“You want to keep it a secret?” 

“Until you’re ready to leave, not for me, but for yourself.”

“How did I get so lucky to have a gorgeous and smart woman?” he says with a cheeky smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me already, Obi,” 

Once again, he doesn’t hesitate, your lips joining in a hungrier matrimony then before. Slowly, you lay down on the bench you had been sat upon, coaxing your Jedi to hover over you. Without his lips leaving yours for a second, he braces himself above you. Just as his lips leave yours to travel elsewhere, a jolt in the ship alerts you both to your arrival back on Mandoa. Obi - Wan groans softly at the lost chance of having some fun, but the same smirk you had fallen for etches his face as he whispers to you:

“Another happy landing,” 

Tag List: (leave a comment to be added)

powerpuff-bucky

Would anyone want a Part 3? Maybe like an Epilogue?

[ao3feed-anidala]

by AnotherAmericanTragedy_20

When Obi-Wan is assigned to guard Padmé, Anakin is designated to track down the employer of Zam Wesell. After parting on unsteady terms, Master and Padawan are sent out into a galaxy full of turmoil, with war on the horizon. Only—Obi-Wan and Padmé never make it to Naboo, and while on his way to Kamino, Anakin finds a stowaway on his ship named Ahsoka.

This, like most unexpected occurrences, makes everything a lot more complicated.

(or: Obi-Wan and Padmé become better friends, Anakin and Ahsoka become friends faster, the Clone Wars still break out, and figures from the past become much more prominent than everyone thought.)

Words: 3166, Chapters: 1/35, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Multi

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Satine Kryze, CT-7567 | Rex, 501st Legion (Star Wars), 212th Attack Battalion (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s), Jedi Order (Star Wars), Yoda (Star Wars), Mace Windu, Plo Koon

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, (everyone needs hugs in this one), Character Development, Fix-It, Slow Burn, Angst

[circuscarnage]

Stormy Night.

Bluh okay so vent writing is a thing now. We’ve had some dreadful weather over here. Hail, rain, high winds, storms. It was so bad part of the kitchen was covered in water, leaking in through the windows. I’ve spent my time either shaking in the class or cowering in my room. And let’s not even get started on me having a breakdown whilst giving a presentation. So I wrote this to vent.

Words: 2280.

The dark wood doors of the Diasomnia dorm flung open, a massive gust of wind entered the common area, causing some of the candles to flicker wildly on their stands. A student managed to pull themselves in from the harsh weather outside, stumbling over their own feet from the shift in amplitude. Outside the weather worsened. Dark clouds hung heavy in the air, already thrashing down heavy pleats of rain. She leaned against the door, pushing it back into place, fighting a one-sided battle against mother nature herself. It slammed shut, causing the student to fall over onto the tiled floor. 

She laid there for a moment, finally being able to breathe after practically drowning in the rain storm outside. She wasn't suppose to be here. Her white uniform against the dark colour scheme was enough of an indication. In all honesty, she didn't have much of a choice. The Diasomnia dorm was the closest, and the storm was only growing worse by the second. If she had spent anymore time out there, she would have drowned. With limited options, she decided that this was her best choice. Perhaps Ali or Blue would take pity on this poor soul and allow her to have a change of clothes, maybe even a blanket. She would get sick if she stayed in this damp uniform.

With the intention of getting warm in mind, she picked herself off the floor and looked around. Not a single soul in sight. Entering the warm common room did little to ease her shivers. It was here that she was finally able to get a good look at herself. The black mirror beside the entrance displayed a picture of a stowaway that had been lost at sea. Her hair was completely soaked, sticking to her face at odd angles, creating an amalgamation of thick strands to grasp at her head. The Heartslabyul jacket looked like it had been dipped in a lake, dripping water off every seam and clinging to her body for dear life. Socks see-through and only just able to keep themselves up. If Vil saw the state she was in, he would surly faint. She didn't even need to look at her shoes to know they left a wet footprint wherever she stepped. Maybe she should take the shoes off? No. Her socks were also in terrible shape. It wouldn't help much. Promptly she turned on her heels and headed towards the fireplace. 

Luckily for her, it was already lit, roaring with heated intensity. The green flames flickered at her presence, leaning towards the stranger that settled in the dorm. All she needed to do was make it to her friends room and ask for a change of clothes. Perhaps even an invitation to stay, depending on whether or not the storm was going to pass. Looking at the rain lashing harshly against the tall window, it didn't seem likely. She turned her attention to the large grandfather clock that was seated off to the right. 11:46pm. The perfect time to be sneaking into another dorm for some warmth. Not that it was going to do her any good. Riddle would surely have her head if he knew she was out past curfew-

"Anna?"

Startled at the sudden voice, she snapped out of her daze. Standing at the top of the stairs was a figure she knew all too well. One of Malleus's esteemed guards, Sebek Zigvolt, stood positioned and poised, staring down at her. He still held the same authoritative aura, even after hours. She had to admit, that was some dedication. "I was just finishing my patrol when I heard someone enter. What are you doing here at this dreadful hour? And in such a state?" He began to walk down the steps, his concern only growing as he got closer. He could see the bags that hung under her eyes, even though her smudged makeup was trying to cover it.

"Studying." She said blankly.

He raised a brow. "In the rain?"

"In the library. Just let me use the fireplace to warm up as the storm blows over. I'm sure it'll leave soon." As soon as that sentence left her mouth, another wave of rain started to bat against the glass, this one more aggressive than before. It was accompanied by the howling wind, seeming to amplify the storms reluctance to leave. He watched as she started to cower at the noise, every shiver followed by a small whimper. Storms were not common at Night Raven, but when they appeared, it was expected some damage would be done. Last time Crowley had to spend the entire day trying to repair the west wing of the Savanaclaw dorm after the wall had been completely demolished. And lets not get started at how mad Riddle was when he found out how many rosebushes had been uprooted.

"You're not going back outside." Sebek decided. It was far too dangerous. One step outside and she would be swept away. 

"Alright, fine. I'll go and see if my friends are awake." She went to take a step forward, before a hand stopped her.

"I would advise against that. Most students have already retired for the night. It would be unwise to disturb them."

"Well then, what do I do?" 

Sebek retained his position. The school rules did not permit students to trespass on other dorms after curfew. It was an offence that Leona knew too well. Things like that would leave a permanent mark on your report. All of the rules stated that she should be returned to her own dorm. However, with the state she was in, he couldn't bring himself to simply send her away. There was another option, but it was a tad risky.

He cleared his throat. "As a member of Diasomnia, it would reflect badly on our reputation if I did not assist a fellow student in need." He adverted his gaze for a moment, instead focusing his eyes elsewhere. Checking around to see if anyone else was awake. It seemed they were the only ones there. With furrowed brows and a slight pout, she looked back at the fire. Green flames reflecting in her glassy orbs. "You always say that." Whenever he wanted to help, it was always because of that prestigious reputation Diasomnia held. Was he using it as an excuse, or was he genuinely concerned about it? "I'm sorry for always dragging their reputation down. Didn't realise I was so much of a burden."

Sebek blinked. "That's not what I..." He paused. It was never his intention to make her feel worse. "...Never mind. Just come with me." He turned on his heels and started to head back up the stairs, ushering her to follow. With one last glance back at the storm outside, she complied.

It would be a lie if Anna said she didn't feel a tad awkward right now. After trailing after the guard upstairs, she was ushered into his room, given a change of clothes, and told she would be spending the night here until the storm passed. Now she was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing an oversized pair of spare pyjamas, and waiting in uncertain silence. The storm continued it's destructive dance, bashing against the window with hostility. She winced away from the sight. Although not high on her list of fears, storms were still frightening enough. It wasn't long before he reentered the room, having himself changed from his uniform. At first, she didn't recognise him. Almost believing a stranger had walked in. His hair, which was usually slicked back, was now hanging down. Some loose strands dropping down in front of his eyes. She quickly adverted her gaze, once she realised she had been caught staring. 

There was a trace of uncertainty in the air. Both seemed to be waiting for a signal from the other, but the affirmation was unknown. Determined not to be stuck in an awkward silence, Sebek cleared his throat. "I hope you realise how much trouble you are," He turned his back and started to shift through the paper on his desk. "Maybe then you would stop being so reckless..." 

"I know, I know. You told me the same thing last week." She let out a disgruntled breath as she rested her chin in her hand. "I appreciate that you're looking out for me though." If he did let out a response, she didn't catch it. There was a pause. "Where are you sleeping?" She questioned. Suddenly being very aware that there was only one bed. He gestured to a high back chair sitting next to the desk before flopping down into it, the purple satin shifting under his weight.

Anna frowned. He didn't actually expect her to sleep in his bed, did he? This was his room, after all. If anyone had the right to sleep there, it was him. He had already helped her enough, this just seemed excessive. "Sebek you are not sleeping in a chair, it's bad for you posture." She stood up and walked over to him, gesturing with her hands for him to move. After receiving no reaction, she held onto his wrists, dug her heels into the floor, and tried to pull him up. He didn't even budge. Only watching her efforts in vain with an invisible soft smile. When she saw that no progress was being made, she let out a disgruntled breath and crossed her arms. "I'm suppose to be the difficult one, not the other way around." 

"After being out in a storm, you're not sleeping in a chair."

"But-" She stopped as soon as his gaze met hers. Stern eyes that told her not to argue back. Something told her she wouldn't get a chance like this again. So stop being difficult and just accept it. "Fine." She grumbled. "But a fair warning. You can't get a good nights sleep in a chair."

She was right. No matter how hard the boy tried, he was never able to get comfortable enough to drift off. He tried everything. From sitting upright to slouching down, even adjusting the cushion in several different positions, it didn't help. Grumbling to himself, he took another glance out the window. The intensity of the storm seemed to have increased, thunder was starting to bellow outside. The reckless sound echoing within the castle walls. It felt like no one was going to sleep tonight.

The flash of light that illuminated the room every few seconds was becoming more erratic, outlining the objects in his room with a bleak light. Giving up on the idea of sleep, he started to walk around the room, his mind starting to wonder. What the hell was he doing? Letting a student outside of the Diasomnia dorm stay the night. If anyone found out, there would surely be talk. Would Malleus mind? Oh god he hoped Malleus wouldn't scold his actions. He had always pried himself on being a strict rule follower, never faulting for anyone. But rules always seemed to be bent whenever she was around. He cast a glance in her direction, surprised to find that she wasn't sleeping as peacefully as he hoped.

Even though she was wrapped tightly in the covers, it did not stop the rapid shaking that convulsed through her body. The storm outside continued on. Every strike against the window only burred her deeper into the duvet. He stood at her side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. Without warning she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging on tight to the fabric of his shirt. Her uneven breathing spilled out of her lungs, unable to contain the panic that was coursing through her heart. Sebek froze up, not exactly processing what was happening. His hands instinctively went up in defence as he studied the person clutching onto him for dear life. Her delightful aura was gone, replaced with fear. 

"Sebey..." She started. Voice in silent whispers, hollow and void. Her already shaking hands gripped deeper into the fabric, threatening to cause a tear. "P-please..." Her sentence trailed off, unable to form words. Too much was going on. Too many sounds. Too many lights. Too many emotions begging to seep out. It was all so overwhelming. She just wanted it to stop.

He had seen this before. Humans cowering in fear. Scared and skittish, hiding from the dangers in the world. Their eyes pleading to be safe. They would try and distance themselves as far away from him as possible, creating a display of timid distress. But this time was different. Instead of shrinking away from him, she was taking solace in his presence, reluctant to let go. Her eyes, though still pleading, were begging him to stay. 

Once he realised the situation he was in, he could only breathe out a small sigh, before being replaced by a slight chuckle. His hands wrapped around her shivering form as he sat down beside her, pulling her in close. "You humans always get so worked up over the simplest of things." He rested his chin on top of her head, trying his best to comfort her. It never occurred to him that he would be in a position like this. His intimidating stature and stern gaze was enough to urge students away. It worked in his favour when guarding Malleus, not so much when comforting students. But if there was one person who felt genuinely safe around him, he wouldn't want it to be anyone else. 

"I'll stay with you until the storm passes. Don't worry. I'm here."

[edgypasta-headcanons]

CreepyPasta’s Theme Songs

Jeff The Killer: Go To Sleep - Eminem

Now go to sleep bitch! Die, motherfucker, die! Ugh, time's up, bitch, close ya eyes Go to sleep, bitch! (what?) Why are you still alive? How many times I gotta say, close ya eyes? And go to sleep bitch! (what?) Die motherfucker die, bye, bye, motherfucker, bye, bye! Go to sleep bitch! (what?) Why are you still alive? Why, die motherfucker, ah, ah, ah Go to sleep bitch!

Ben Drowned: Going Under - Evanescence

Now I will tell you what I've done for you Fifty-thousand tears I've cried Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you And you still won't hear me (I'm going under) Don't want your hand this time I'll save myself Maybe I'll wake up for once (wake up for once) Not tormented daily defeated by you Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom I'm dying again

Eyeless Jack: Crucify Me - Bring me The Horizon ft Lights

I am an ocean, I am the sea There is a world inside of me Lost in the abyss, drowned in the deep No set of rules could salvage me Only a shipwreck, only a ghost Merely a graveyard of your former self We just watched the waves crash over I've been cast astrayThere is a Hell, believe me I've seen it There is a Heaven, let's keep it a secret (No one needs to know) There is a Hell, believe me I've seen it There is a Heaven, let's keep it a secret (No one needs to know)

Masky: In the Air Tonight - Jon Howard cover

Well if you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand I've seen your face before my friend, but I don't know if you know who I am Well I was there and I saw what you did, I saw it with my own two eyes So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been It's all been a pack of lies

Hoodie: What Have You Done - Within Temptation

Would you mind if I killed you? Would you mind if I tried to? 'cause you have turned into my worst enemy You carry hate that I don't feel It's over now What have you done?

Ticci Toby: Turn Off The Lights - Panic! At The Disco 

Turn off the lights, turn off the lights Turn on the charm for me tonight I've got my heavy heart to hold me down Once it falls apart, my head's in the clouds So I'm taking every chance I've got Like the man I know I'm not

So sick of wasting all my time How in God's name did I survive? (How did I survive?) I need a little sympathy Disarm my insecurities Our consciences are always so much heavier than our egos I set my expectations high So nothing ever comes out right

Jane The Killer: Hit & Run - Lolo

I was brought up as a southern belle I grew into the queen from hell you were just a little stowaway that stabbed her way to save herself you always liked the taste of blood and I get off when I point the gun it's so good to have someone to be so bad with

Clockwork: Creative - Creep P 

Stop all of your thinking, And start listening to me! Trust me, you'll be set free. With that, we'll think creatively. Asking, thinking, thoughts and hopes. Hope. Hope? Hope! Nope. It will be too late by now, Now your time has ran out!

Slenderman: Slenderman Song - Zip Zipper 

Slender Man, Slender Man, Sometimes hums a lowly drone. Slender Man, Slender Man, He will wander 'round your home. Slender Man, Slender Man, Blends in well within the trees. Slender Man, Slender Man, In the fog he's hard to see.

BONUS

Dr. Smiley: Modern Day Cain - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

You're an upstanding model Of the Modern Day Cain With impeccable style So now you've done a little wrong And you need to be forgiven By the Vicar and the company you keep And then you conjure up a fiction To get the pretty girl to listen

Nina The Killer: Disturbia - Rihanna

It's a thief in the night To come and grab you It can creep up inside you And consume you A disease of the mind It can control you It's too close for comfort

Throw on your break lights We're in the city of wonder Ain't gonna play nice Watch out, you might just go under Better think twice Your train of thought will be altered So if you must falter be wise Your mind is in Disturbia It's like the darkness is the light Disturbia Am I scaring you tonight Your mind is in Disturbia Ain't used to what you like Disturbia

Jason The Toymaker: Trust Me - Devil’s Carnival

Babe, you're a hard game to catch You fight and refuse Oh, you're a wild little bruise Never tasted as sweet A poison as you have You know you never can hide

You're a bad little love And you're mine

So trust me, trust me Darling dear I'm so sincere There's no need to tear Trust me, trust me Darling, do . . . Just like I trust you

The Puppeteer: Choke - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me 

Now shut your dirty mouth If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine And what a lovely time That it would surely be So bite your tongue And choke yourself to sleep

Trenderman: Fashion - Lady Gaga

I am, I'm too fabulous I'm so, fierce that it's so nuts I live, to be model thin Dress me, I'm your mannequin J'adore Vivienne habillez moi, Gucci, Fendi, et Prada. Valentino, Armani too. Merde I love them Jimmy Choo

Fashion put it all on me Don't you want to see these clothes on me Fashion put it all on me I am anyone you want me to be

Splendorman: Every Demon Has a Rainbow - Hazbin Hotel 

So, all you junkies, freaks and weirdos, Creepers, fuck-ups, crooks, and zeroes, And the fallen superheroes, help is here! All of you cretins, sluts and losers, Sexual deviants and boozers, and prescription drug abusers Need not fear Forever again We'll cure your sin We'll make you well, you'll feel so swell Right here in Hell, at the Happy Hotel! There'll be no more fire And no more screams, Just puppy dog kisses, and cotton candy dreams, And puffy-wuffy clouds, you're gonna be like, wow! Once you check in with meeeee~!

Zalgo: Something Has To Happen - Mister Scoops

Dracul (Satine): Dance With The Devil - Breaking Benjamin

Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight Don't you dare look at him in the eye As we dance with the devil tonightTrembling, crawling across my skin Feeling your cold dead eyes Stealing the life of mine

Ghost of The Trees (Misty):  Hide & Seek - Vocaloid

Ding Dong hurry up I'm waiting Far too late to run Away to see if I can catch you Ding Dong hurry up I'm starving Waiting for you here I know that you are near so come out Staring through the window No escape from my cold gaze now Tearing through your eyelids Creeping close to see you nearer 

Her (Darkelle): Mz Hyde - Halestorm

Welcome to the nightmare in my head, (Oh god!) Say hello to something scary, The monster in your bed, (Oh god!) Just give in and you won't be sorry, Welcome to my other side, Hello it's Mz Hyde!

[stusbunker]

Weddings and Other Holy Deals

For Better or Worst: Chapter One

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

Setting: Mid Season 14 AU

Word Count: 1675

Summary: Sam finds an unlikely solution to the Michael problem in Dean’s head. His soon-to-be wife has her own side of the deal with the powers that be.

^*^*^

Jan. 20, 2019

Somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed lawns and the perfectly timed sprinkler systems, over a wide porch with a loveseat swing and past a storm door with etched glass, slept a Winchester. It was not a normal place for this Winchester, Sam for clarity’s sake, to be upon waking. But this wasn’t a usual day, for the hunter or anyone honestly. Though he had lived another day like this one, the excitement and anticipation he felt as he rolled over and saw his clock face shining back at him was unmatched. Today, Sam Winchester was getting married, and if he knew anything it was the best decision he had ever made. That things would only get better after today. Rare is certainty in life, which was why Sam held fast to his and began the life-changing day.

Across town, Bandit woke his bride. Bandit is her dog, soon to be their dog, a Setter mix that loved to herd. Emery Simmons had always been an animal person, but Bandit was a surprise blessing from her former life.  She hadn’t asked to bring him along, though as there wasn’t much she had left, she supposed it was a perk to balance her expectations. She roamed through the short-term rental, contemplating the dress that had been left for her as she made herself a cup of tea. Bandit demanded a walk and a bout of catch in the park, which Emery accommodated, unhurried by the little preparations for the small ceremony. They weren’t going to start without her, after all.

Sam had exercised, showered and shaved by ten o’clock. He had another three hours before the service was scheduled, idle hands met a replaced contact list in his phone. He didn’t know any of these people yet, well he knew one. With little else to bide his time, Sam hit the old rotary phone icon below the smirking face.

“Whoa, when did they futz with our phones?” Emery asked, spinning around with Bandit’s leash before tucking her phone beneath her ear.

“Dunno, it’s weird right?” Sam stared at the tux bag hanging in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Creeptastic, actually. What’s up?” She sounded worried, maybe she was distracted. Sam was overthinking her tone and almost forgot to answer her.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call?” Sam offered, sitting at the end of the bed, huffing at himself with a sad smile. “Forget it, I’ll let you get back to your, stuff.”

“Hey, I’m just out for a walk, you’re not bothering me. Sam?” His name came out heavy, like she was reminding herself who she was marrying. He didn’t blame her. There was a scuffle on her end of the line before she groaned. “No, Bandit, no!”

Sam’s forehead shot to its full height. “Is that— are you walking a dog?”

“Uh, yesssssss? Is that going to be a problem?” Her sudden defensiveness made him grin, the image of her struggling with a leash warmed Sam from head to toe.

“Not at all, the opposite really. I love dogs.” He understood why she was anxious; they barely knew each other, it was a bit soon for a potential first fight.

“Well, good, shit, had me panicking there for a minute.” The conversation lulled as she reached the porch, each stumbling over small talk before she looked at the clock on the microwave. Sam was starting to pace, but the relief that there would be someone else in the house with them made it seem less scary somehow. They said their goodbyes and Sam decided he better eat before the nerves resurfaced. He quickly fried some bacon, out of habit, and tossed together a smoothie. Everything he could possibly want stocked in the fridge and cupboards; they had done their due diligence, apparently.

Two and a half hours later, Emery was hiking up the church steps, dress bent over her elbow and simple veil trailing behind her loose curls on a winter breeze. She had never had a lot of friends, but today was a day when a female entourage would have come in handy. She thought about her mother and how she would have worried over her hair until it needed to be reset. She sent up a silent prayer to her, telling her that she was finally making an honest woman of herself. Adding a few choice words that would have had them both pursing and posturing before breaking down into fits of giggles. God, did she miss her. She smiled quietly, opening her eyes and the heavy glass door.

The church was cavernous and quiet and after countless trips inside hallowed walls, Sam was able to appreciate the architecture and the scale of the ancient organ pipes. The minister seemed confused, but accommodating, given the last-minute organization. Sam stood at the end of the aisle, hands in his pockets, the ring box lightly brushing against his thigh. A blast of sound curled throughout the space, nimble fingers flying over aged keys as the timeless march stopped Sam’s heart. This was it, a pact fulfilled. He inhaled, swallowed, and turned to face his future.

Emery hated heels, but given the size of her husband, she may have to learn to live with them. The dress was forgiving at least, the gentle satin flowing as she glided down. Tried to glide. There was no one to give her away, no one at her elbow to keep time with, no onlookers to slow down for, no photographer to capture their faces as they saw each other for the first time. This moment was theirs alone, shy and appreciatively sacred. He smiled at her without teeth, dimples mesmerizing as she lost her rhythm, strolling to him out of the step-halt-step that was expected of her. None of that mattered anyway.

She shook her head and smiled back, licking her lips as she remembered the minister was waiting for her. Carefully she stood in front of Sam, toes of her white slippers lining up with his reflective black shoes. A small bouquet of orchids clutched in her right hand, her left petting her skirts as she tried to rub off the sweat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here-,” the ceremony began. They echoed the scripted vows, eyes locked on each other in hopeful promise. Cautiously optimistic was too naïve for these two, humble veneration too romantic. They stood as strangers, forging a partnership to save those dearest to them. It was a contract that required both of their souls, willfully shared and bonded before Heaven and Earth. Samuel Winchester took this woman, Emery Simmons as his lawfully wedded wife. And she him. For better or worse.

Two days prior

Two days and a series of choices prior, stood the other Winchester in an underground fortress, three hundred fifty miles due East. Dean was in his bedroom, staring at Death, or Billie, if we’re being technical. Which we should, being the time jumps and all. Billie handed him the last remaining outcome of his life on Earth. The book, once one of countless possibilities, remained his sole option from world ending calamity. That was until Sam burst in, with a very stern angel on his heels.

               “Dean! Listen, so—Naomi thinks she can help us. Help you, with Michael.” Dean looked from Death to his brother to the psychotic bureaucrat, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes and on his heart. Puppy dog’s hopeful eyes barraging him with an innocence he hadn’t had to let down gently in ages. Dean felt, unabashedly, like the oldest soul in the room. The women regarded each other, silent conversation earning only an audible hum from the former Reaper.

               “Interesting. Dean? I think you need to hear them out. I’ll be in touch.” Billie nodded to Naomi and vanished before Sam could get a word in. No one mentioned how these beings, especially the angel, entered the Bunker. A place lauded as being the securest on the planet, had conveniently become a haven for all sorts of unmentionables.

               “Okay, let’s hear it,” Dean sighed, perching on his bed as he listened to the latest hair-brained scheme. That night, after hours of arguing, endless curt responses from Naomi and rebuttals from Castiel, Dean agreed to leave with her. Before Naomi whisked him away, she shared a pregnant glance with Sam.

               “We’ll be in touch,” the platinum blonde angel replied curtly. The air was suffocating with tension, Dean tried to get Sam’s attention and Cas glared at his former puppet master.

“Wait, what am I supposed to leave like there isn’t something else going on here?!” Dean bellowed at Naomi, who looked like the cat that got the cream, rolled her eyes.

               “Boys, one thing at a time, please?” She gestured to a corner of the library, where a glowing pattern had appeared on the old tiles.

               “How’d you—” Cas stared in awe as a portal to Heaven opened before their eyes.

               “This is a one-way, temporary portal, Castiel. Don’t try to stowaway or the deal, all of the deals are off. Do I make myself clear?” Naomi glared at each man like a field trip chaperone. The men nodded, but Dean’s jaw worked over all of his unanswered questions. The pounding in his head intensified the moment Naomi arrived, which almost, was a relief. It meant Mikey knew something was happening and his suspicion was enough to swing Dean’s vote.

               “Alright boys,” Dean sniffed. “See you on the other side?” He shook Cas’s hand before pulling him into a brief hug. Sam stood waiting, an arm up and one underneath, they embraced as equals. Another risk, another potential goodbye.

               “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, bitch.” Dean chided, giving Sam a knowing smirk.

               “Too short a list, jerk,” Sam tossed back, as Dean took Naomi’s hand like the kid forced to partner with the teacher in dance class. The portal swayed and flickered, the angel and the hunter pulled skyward, though Heaven was much farther away than the instant transport suggested.

               “Sam?”

               “Not now, Cas.” Sam stormed off, thumbing through his phone, needing to make some calls.

^*^*^

Read On: A New Normal

[moved-ncturn-e]

two steps back

:: Just a little drabble ? I’m not sure if I’ll continue it, but I’d certainly like to.

"Show me the stowaway."

It was a simple command, and although his voice lacked energy, the order of Lord Vladimir Dracula Tepes was carried out. Two armour-clad creatures shambled away, leaving the vampire to sit and sigh on his throne, a sharp fingernail tracing his temples. A muscle feathered in his jaw when Godbrand shuffled forwards, and before the Viking could speak, Dracula flicked his eyes over to his general. When Godbrand attempted some sort of expression to save face, his master only appeared more irritated.

"When I said I'd allow you to keep livestock in the castle, I believe I recall you swearing there would never be any arising dilemmas regarding the humans," Dracula muttered. He shifted in his throne, broad shoulders hitching together beneath the weight of his cape. "Stars know why I even thought to humour that promise, but regardless ..."

As he trailed off, his general dared to look at him with raised brows. Bringing his lips over his teeth, he said, "It was only three more! For fuck's sake, the first two are already dead, you can have the spare! Kill the spare! I - shit, we all know you haven't feasted since -"

He cut himself off when he saw the glimmer of burning scarlet in the other vampire's eyes. Godbrand swallowed hard, mouth forming into a silent, disgruntled snarl as Dracula rose from his seat. He towered over his general, the darkness of the hall enveloping him like a shroud of black satin, but before he could wordlessly chide the idiot standing before him, the little pair of henchmen had returned to the space, dragging a limp figure in their midst, hissing audibly every now and again whenever their hands began to sizzle and smoke. Whoever it was, they wore protection. Godbrand made a sort of crude gesture that mimed eating. Amazed and perplexed as to why he had not thrown his general from the ramparts already, Dracula took a simple stride forward as the henchmen gladly tossed the little human figure to the base of the steps. They then swept away, darting between the others of his council who remained in the room, leaving the two-legged sheep at the mercy of a den of wolves.

The vampire lord could smell blood on them, a sickly crimson scent that made his insides roil with hunger. He pushed the feeling away and settled back into his seat tiredly. Perhaps he should just 'kill the spare,' as the nitwit to his left had just put it. Narrowing his eyes, expression hooded by the darkness, he caught the gaze of his unwelcome newcomer.

A girl's - no, a woman's - face turned skyward to take in the full view of her surroundings. She tried to pick herself up off of the ground, trembling more than a newborn faun taking its first steps, and after much sway, she had steadied herself. The eyes of Dracula's court - the ones who were present at the time - were already devouring her as she wiped a smudge of blood out from under her nose. They were deterred, however, by what hung around her neck: a glittering little silver cross. One vampire even gave an audible hiss as she brushed her shaking fingers over it.

The woman seemed to gather up enough courage to speak, and she said in a voice so small that it hardly had the noise to echo through the hall, "I-I'm - I am sorry for my intrusion, but I need - need to go home."

It was Godbrand who reacted first, audibly choking back a bout of laughter. "Should'a thought of that before you crept in here like a fucking rat in the plumbing system!" he quipped, and an amused murmur filtered through the rest of the council. The young woman stiffened, shifting as though to hide beneath her curtain of thick, dark curls. The creatures of the night could smell the fear, wet on her fast-paced breath as she gripped her little charm with white knuckles.

Dracula's eyes trailed down her face, her hands, then the rest of her. His nose wrinkled when he recognised the fineries of the church clothing her, and he held back a sort of primal sorrow as once again, he rose to his feet. He must have done so abruptly, for the captive outed a surprised noise and stumbled onto her backside.

"I-I need -" she stammered as the lord of the castle drifted forwards, boots inaudible as they trailed down the stone steps. "I must return home - please, I-I will bother you no more -"

He was like a watchtower above her, a solid pillar of blood and shadow with eyes that gleamed in the dark. Her heartbeat was loud enough for each predator to hear, and as she gripped her token of the church, hot, frightened tears gathered at her eyelashes. She swallowed hard as Dracula finally spoke.

"I should hope that you will not bother me again," he said, speaking with a level tone that was a thousand times more jarring than a warrior's battle cry. "But I'm afraid your possibilities of leaving my ... humble abode are rather slim, little mouse." His head tilted ever so slightly to the side. "Children of Mary are not treated kindly here."

The woman, dark eyes glossy from the threat of tears, relinquished her grip on the crucifix around her neck. "Child of - oh, oh god, I didn't mean - I didn't think -"

"You didn't think what?" the vampire lord murmured, a hiss lingering on the tip of his tongue as he edged around the trembling figure. "No one wanders into the 'stronghold of the devil' wearing crosses and carrying wooden stakes and holy water by accident. Adorning the colours of those I seek to eradicate." His jaw tightened on the final word of his statement. He began to feel the tongue of flame licking at his insides again, the siren's song of unrelenting anger filtering through his blood. Kill the spare - perhaps he should crush her right here, show the little disciple of a confounded, loveless God the colour of death, of blood, of bone.

"What do you call yourself, little mouse," he inquired, and the court around him began to hiss again, whispering of rightful slaughter. His voice was laced with cobra's venom, and beneath the shield of his cloak, his talons dug deep into his own palms. Something told him 'not yet.'

It took a moment for the young woman to clear away her stutter. "Elizabeth Alder," she said, falling into a shrill whisper as if her vocal cords themselves had fled.

Silence fell over the hall for many moments; even the generals held their tongues as a fiery memory simmered in the air, radiating off of their great leader as he lowered his face. He thought to laugh, or shout, or perhaps even say nothing at all as the echo of the syllables bled into a name he had redacted from his castle. Ergo, he shook his head and opened his eyes, drawing the nails out of his palms as he stooped forwards. The energy of the little cross was there, vibrating angrily against his movements on her, and he released a hiss.

"Take that off," he snarled, losing his composure. "You think it is faith that will save you and your kind? Faith is a prayer for water in the burning sands of a desert - it is a fool's wish."

The woman, Elizabeth, flicked her eyes back up to him, and the fear on her bruised face seemed to diminish, just ever so slightly. "Yet - yet you cannot touch me," she whispered, lips trembling. Somehow, with whatever strength remained in her little body, she held his gaze. He was taken aback when he found no flare of vengeance, no glimmer of a parish's reprimand as she looked the devil in the eyes. No, what he saw was infinitely more jarring: desperation and determination.

He withdrew a few feet, dark brows twitching in restrained frustration before turning to glance at his war council. The most common facial expression begged for bloodlust, the most enthusiastic being Godbrand, who, true to Hector's words, was either envisioning fucking the trembling thing until she ripped into two pieces, playing a game of cat and mouse and eventually having her for supper, or trying to fashion some bizarre raft out of her cartilage. Perhaps he was thinking of all three. Nevertheless, before he could say anything that would most definitely nauseate the whole room, the lord Dracula waved a dismissive hand towards him and turned back to the woman.

"You are so bold, Elizabeth Alder," he mused, the calm, cool tones of his voice singing with danger. "to break through my own threshold without a trace of manners." A gentle flick of his long, pale fingers summoned twin shadows to his side - none other than his two trusted forgemasters. Dracula straightened, then said in a rooted yet weary voice, "Keep our guest Miss Alder in the upper wings. Allow her not to access Godbrand's ... livestock. Give her time to 'atone' before her fate is decided."

It was Isaac who stooped to grasp her firmly by the arm, and the woman released a deaf whimper as the red-eyed forgemaster led her through the small crowd of eagerly-hissing vampires; however, she did not cry out again as she was dragged into the darkness of the adjacent hallway.

When Dracula settled back into his iron throne, the tips of his fingers returned to massage his temples as the remainders of his council began to ever so slowly disperse, still excited by the smell of fresh human blood.

"Godbrand." The strength in his voice failed him, but the venom did not.

The Viking had almost managed to escape. Dracula looked over to him, eyes still hooded by darkness as that burden of weariness began to claw its way back up his frame.

“Should you take no seriousness in your oaths again ..." He did not have to finish his statement for his point to come across. Godbrand, however, merely produced a sarcastic mock of a salute before sulking off to probably snack on some of his livestock. The lord of the castle was left alone, bathing in his own shadows, as his mind mauled over the sound of an old name that wore new clothes.

Hope somebody enjoyed this 😂

- Frog

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After Part 32/? - Next Stop Part 33/? - A Sighting in Messina Part 34/? - Taormina Part 35/? - Burning Part 36/? - Recovery Part 37/? - Pilgrimage to Vesuvius Part 38/? - The Scent of Hell Part 39/? - She’ll be Coming Down the Mountain Part 40/? - Stowaways Part 41/? - Bon Voyage Part 42/? - Turnabout Part 43/? - The Apple Part 44/? - Vesuvius Wakes Part 45/? - Fire At Sea Part 46/? - The Real Jim Part 47/? - Return to Naples Part 48/? - La Mela Part 49/? - A Demonstration

Newton pulls a rug out from under Jim - only for Natasha to pull an even bigger one out from under him.

“A demonstration?” Newton asked, scoffing.  They’re all wearing gold-plated shoes.  They don’t need a demonstration.”

“It makes gold all by itself,” Desrosiers pointed out.  “If you’ve made it properly it should make other things, too.”  Her voice contrived to suggest that she doubted this.  “Has anyone got anything precious?” she asked, looking at the others.

She was stalling, Nat realized.  She was trying to buy them time.  “I’ve got my earrings,” she said, taking them off.  They were just little diamond studs, rented from the jewelry shop on the Scorpio II.

“Perfect,” said Desrosiers, holding out her hand for them.  “Now I need something that’s not precious.  Something impressively large and fairly round is best.”

Clint’s eyes lit up and he dug into his backpack, which he was still wearing over his tuxedo shirt – he also still had the peaked cap from the cruise ship’s bridge on his head.  “Here!” he said.  “I have some ceramic garlic!”  He held it out, packed in bubble wrap.

“That will do very nicely,” Desrosiers said.  She offered both it and the diamonds to Newton.  “Come on.  If we’re all about to be cast into hell, then least we can do is play with your toy a little. I never got to mess with it before Nicolas shut ours down.  I wanted to turn grapes into pearls and wear them as a necklace, but I suppose turning garlic into diamonds will do.  Even if it’s not real garlic.”

“You’re stalling,” Newton said.  “You’re being silly.  You know perfectly well that I have to wait until morning to let it blow, so that the dead can face the rising sun as they’re resurrected.  But if you must just throw things into it, go ahead.  I’ve been saving the power for the last sixty years, you can’t possibly just use it all if that’s what you’re thinking.”

That was when Nat realized what Desrosiers was actually doing.  She wasn’t stalling – she was distracting.  It was time for Natasha to do something.  She had to figure out how to turn this thing off.

She took a couple of very quiet steps back and began creeping around the perimeter of the cavern.  The energy from the cauldron in the Palazzo del Corallo was being piped in here somehow. There would have to be a valve or something to control the flow.  She just had to find it… and figure out how to pull it without getting her hand turned to gold.

“And there you are,” she heard Desrosiers say.  The quiet in the cavern, which allowed Nat to hear the voices of the others, was actually rather distressing.  The huge philosopher’s stone looked like something that really out to make some sound, that ought to hum or hiss or even roar, but it was uncomfortably silent.

“Okay, I admit it, I’m impressed,” said Sam.  “What’s your wife gonna think of that, eh?”

“I don’t know,” Clint admitted.  There was a sound, somewhere between a chime and a scrape, as the cloves scraped against each other.  “She won’t believe me when I tell her what they are, that’s for sure.”

“Very good,” Desrosiers said.  “And now that we know it works… I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“I don’t have one,” was the reply.  “They’ve been calling me Jim.”

Natasha continued to search for a valve, but her ears pricked up like a cat’s. Was that what Desrosiers was doing?  Had she remembered her promise to help Jim?  Nat flattened herself against the floor of the cavern, to look under the mess of tubes and shining philosopher’s stone.  She could see everybody’s feet around the other side.

Jim began to step forward, but then he hesitated.  “Wait, doesn’t it need a template?”

“I have some of Buckeye’s hair, remember?” said Sir Stephen.  Nat couldn’t see the upper half of his body, but he must have removed the locket and offered it to Jim.  “It will provide a sample of, if not the same body you were copied from, then at least one very similar to it.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not going to work,” said Newton, stepping between the group and the stone.

Jim, who’d been reaching to take the locket from Sir Stephen, stopped short.  “What?” he asked.  “You said you would help me.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone is not the ‘help’ you need,” Newton informed him.  “Living matter is almost impossible to transmute, because of its complexity.  You try to transmute your body into flesh using that hair, you’ll just turn into a mass of keratin.”

Jim looked at Perenelle in shock, and most of the others did likewise. They were all puzzled – and so was Natasha.  She must have known it wouldn’t work, so why had she suggested it?

Newton answered for her.  “She’s not interested in you.  She just wants to use up as much of the stone’s energy as she can so there’s not enough left for my task.  I already told her,” he added, “it’s not going to work.”

“Then how can you transmute yourself using the feather of the Holy Dove?” asked Sir Stephen.

“Divine matter is complete unto itself,” said Newton.  “Surely you’re familiar with the transmutation that occurs at Mass, when bread and wine becomes the body and blood of Christ while still looking and tasting like bread and wine.  The principle is the same.”

“It is not,” said Perenelle, evidently fed up.  “Isaac, you told me yourself that was nothing but your mercury vapor delusions, which means you must know how silly it sounds. As far as I’m concerned, though, you can do whatever you like to yourself, but I don’t want you killing anyone else. Even assuming you can accomplish the end of the world – what if it fails? What if you only kill half the people on Earth and leave the rest to suffer?”

“God will not allow me to fail,” snapped Newton, “and the only people who will die are the non-believers, the ones who have lost their way in the light of God – people like you! You’re already dead, ‘Nelle, you just don’t know it yet!  Those of us who knew Him will rise and enter heaven to have life everlasting.  I will enjoy seeing the look on your face when the devil swallows you up!”

“How can you be so sure this has to be your job?” Perenelle wanted to know.  “Sooner or later the world’s going to end all by itself.  It’s well on the way already.”

“That is not what the Book of Revelation foretells,” said Newton.

Just by her posture, Nat could tell that Perenelle had thrown her hands in the air. “You’re like a door-to-door evangelist, Isaac! There’s just no reasoning with you!”

“Where’s the other one?” asked Newton.

There was a brief pause, in which everybody was perhaps trying to figure out what he was talking about.  “The other what?” asked Perenelle.

“Don’t play dumb,” Newton said.  “The talkative one.  There are two girls, a blonde and a redhead, and it’s the redhead that does all the talking. Why isn’t she talking now?”

Nat realized she was still on her hands and knees peeking under the hovering stone, and quickly resumed searching for a valve.  There was an impressive tangle of pipes where they emerged from the tunnel and divided to enter the huge sphere at multiple points, but she couldn’t find any levers or wheels to open or close them.  Maybe it was a remote control?  Maybe it was back in the basement of the Palazzo del Corallo, and they just hadn’t noticed it?  She hoped not.

She spotted Newton’s metal suitcase lying next to the tunnel opening.  There was nothing in it now, and the outer surface was partially turned to gold.  Next to it was a canvas backpack, and an opened bottle of champagne.  Newton had been toasting his own apocalypse.

Hurrying now, Nat untied the closure on the backpack and looked inside.  There was some wiring, a glass globe, and a couple of tools like pliers and wire cutters.  Right in the bottom was a little velvet box, the type one bought jewelry in.  Nat pulled it out and opened it, just to see what was inside.

Lying on the satin lining was a single white down feather.

So that was the sacred feather, supposedly from the Holy Spirit itself.  It looked very ordinary to Natasha, and not even that old – it had probably come from a dove on the streets of the city.  The Abbot had seemed to think it was genuine, but it couldn’t have been around more than a few years if it hadn’t yet started to break down and go yellow. Somebody else had probably replaced it and not told him.

“There you are!” Newton said.  “Don’t you dare touch that!  Your hands aren’t worthy of sullying it!”  He stormed towards her, hands held out.

Nat thought fast.  She figured the feather was useless, that if Newton tried to use it to make himself a god he would end up like he’d said Jim would if he used the lock of Buckeye’s hair – an inert mass of keratin.  That would get rid of Newton, but leave them to deal with the philosopher’s stone.  If it had an off switch, Newton would know where it was.  If he knew his plan were ruined, he might be willing to help them.  He’d said that God made no mistakes, that it was all part of the plan.  She had to destroy that feather.

So she ate it.

It was the only thing she could think of in the few moments before Newton reached her, and she knew it was a bad idea, but she rolled the feather up between her fingers and tried not to think of it being covered in silver polish and with dead parasites in it and any number of other disgusting things that might have happened while it was sitting in the monastery basement.  Then she popped it in her mouth, grabbed the champagne bottle, and washed it down with a swig.  Nat normally had good control of her gag reflex, but she nearly retched.

She managed to get it down, though, and washed out her mouth with more champagne before throwing the bottle aside to smash on the rocks.  That was probably overly theatrical.  Nat didn’t care.  She stood up straight, and looked Newton in the eye.

He’d stopped when she put the feather in her mouth, and was now just staring at her with his mouth hanging open.  For the first few seconds he didn’t speak.  It seemed as if he literally could not believe what he’d just seen.

“Did… did you just eat it?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Natasha.

Newton stared a moment longer.  Apparently, of all the things he’d ever thought of her doing, eating his feather was not one of them.  Behind him, the others were gathered, also staring at her as if afraid she was going to explode or something.  Were they afraid the feather was somehow divine? If it were, the powers on high didn’t seem to be upset with Nat for eating it.  All she felt was vaguely nauseated.

“You.”  Newton raised a shaking finger to point at her.  “I know who you are.”

“I told you who I am,” said Natasha.  “I’m Dr. Jones from Dundee.”

“You are the Devil himself!” said Newton.  “Or herself… I ought to have known the Devil would be a woman!  The source of all temptation!”  He marched towards her.

“You flatter me,” said Nat.  For a moment she wished she hadn’t through the champagne bottle aside – it would have made a good weapon to hit him with.  She assumed a fighting stance, but the others also seemed to have recovered from their surprise, and starting with Sharon and Sir Stephen, they grabbed Newton from behind and wrestled him to the ground.

“Who else would seek to continue the material world where you reign supreme?” Newton shouted.  He struggled, but immortal as he might be he was physically a man in his sixties, and he didn’t have a chance against Sir Stephen’s enhanced strength.  “To prevent the Kingdom of God from rising?  Hell must be harrowed, so you seek to prevent it, to keep a hold of…” he was abruptly cut off as Sam stuffed a wad of paper in his mouth.

“Man,” Sam said, “shut the hell up.”

[exileseverafter]

Chapter 2

A Bit About the Incident

“Magic beanstalk,” the boy said as if to explain it all. “Old man sold me the beans.” “Ah. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that.”

The human’s name had been Jack. If one was to ask any given resident of the Cloud Island of Mielle, one would hear a story about how that resident’s sister worked for a jeweler who was married to a peach farmer whose great grandmother had seen five humans in her time. There were the gold and black-clad merchants who traveled down to the human cities, their rocs carrying down baskets of blue Heavenly Apples and fabric woven from crystallized sunbeam and returning with furs, minerals and meat on slabs of ice. But the masked merchants were a society unto themselves, as secretive and closed off from the citizens of Mielle as the were to their wealthy human customers below. But for one of the Sky Folk outside of that profession to see a human in the flesh was rare indeed. There were laws on the books forbidding it, supposedly the result of conflicts and non-aggression treaties too old for anyone to remember, but they were seen as artifacts. It was like declaring it illegal for the moon to fall from the sky. The merchants searched their wares for stowaways with the same care they examined marbled meat. For reasons nobody quite understood, the rocs apparently wouldn’t listen to humans who tried to tame them the way Sky Folk pilots had. Unless humans learned how to fly, they couldn’t access the soft, gray terrain of the Cloud Islands which drifted lazily over the water and terrain of the Center of the Universe where the diminutive beings lived. So Ezra thought of humans the way most of his kind did-not much at all, except as a distant source of goods found only on the land. Certainly he had dreams of attaining the heights of fame to match elder Kettles of the past, masters at their craft who were said to have made wedding cakes for empresses and the nearly impossible 40 Blackbird Pie for human kings. (Humans had those sorts of ranks, he’d been told.) But he wouldn’t meet those empresses or kings. It just wasn’t done. Besides, he had enough to worry about on a daily basis. He could not be sure he heard whispers and saw heads shaking in pity in the corner of his vision when he walked around the circular market to pick up flour and sugar, but he’d grown so used to them that perceived them almost constantly. Once in a while he’d walk past a conversation between a tailor wearing her brightly-clad goods and a tinkerer, and over the bang of pots and swish of translucent satin he’d hear snatches of “…grandmother told me their works were quite impressive” and “really a shame, but it let it be a lesson to you, I say.” They would avoid eye contact as he passed by. That was to be expected, he would tell himself, and hold his head at a proper angle while being sure not to spill a single drop of milk or grain of flour. The Kettle name was no longer respectable, and the man to whom he was indentured was. So anything Ezra did would be attributed to the moral decline of past generations; Hamilton Tooth was merely ‘unpleasant, but one cannot ignore his talent,’ as many would say. Tooth was the one who sold the glazed fruit tarts and wedding cakes now, though for a less grand audience. Ezra was not making a wedding cake the fateful night he opened the door for the human. He was working late into the night, hair tied back and face splotched with flour, kneading wheat dough to be baked in the morning. His master had thrown out the last batch in a drunken rage, declaring it ‘sour’ without even looking at it. Hamilton Tooth’s snoring still sent the walls shaking, and Ezra did his best to ignore it. No matter how far gone Master Tooth might have been in dreamland listening to that damned harp, he’d always manage to wake up at the worst moment and blame his apprentice for it. So loud was the snoring that Ezra almost didn’t hear the faint, hoarse call right outside the door. All he could make out was ‘let me in!’ Letting the dough fall to the flour-covered table and wiping his hands off on his apron, Ezra stood up to listen. There it was again, plaintive and exhausted. Was that person in danger? And if they were, why would they go to a bakery? Hesitantly, Ezra opened the front door a crack. He winced at the groan of the wood, but Master Tooth remained asleep. “I’m afraid we’re closed at this hour,” he whispered. “But you can…hello?” There was nobody there. Not in front of him, at least; the town was as dead as one might expect it to be so close to midnight, the only light coming from the full moon and a few candle-lit windows. Ezra let out a breath and scowled. “I’m being pranked again,” he muttered. “Some brat’s probably going to steal a pie from the windowsill. Which means…” Something ran past Ezra, something that reached just past his thigh and about to his waist. At first Ezra thought it might have been a small child, but the thing moved far too quickly for a toddler’s wobbly gait and the shape was all wrong. It certainly wasn’t a large vulture, even if the tattered cloak it wore suggested it. Ezra shut the door behind him and grabbed a candle, holding it up to try to find the thing. “…Hello? Who are you? Whatever you are, you can’t be here!�� A bundle of rags in the corner moved and slowly emerged. As the first layer of rags fell away, it became apparent that he was looking at a very small person with black hair and freckled skin, thin and underfed-looking. They barely moved, gawking up at Ezra. While Ezra couldn’t discern the being’s gender, their proportions suggested someone a few years younger than Ezra himself. “You’re a human, aren’t you.” It sounded ridiculous the moment he spoke the words, yet he knew immediately what he was seeing. Ezra very slowly knelt down onto one knee in order to better address the intruder face to face, realizing he probably loomed in comparison. “There, is this better?” The human slowly nodded and took a step closer. The voice that came out sounded male and young, hoarse and exhausted. “You’re all so big.” “I know what it’s like to be loomed over.” Ezra was on the short side; Master Tooth most definitely was not. “But you can’t be here. I mean, you really can’t! How did you even get up here? You didn’t steal away in a roc basket, did you? It’s just…this is unprecedented.” The boy shook his head, still reluctant to get any closer. “Climbed a beanstalk, sir.” “A…beanstalk?” There were beanstalks climbing through gardens throughout the Island. They were bigger than the kind that grew on the land, but not by that much. “Magic beanstalk,” the boy said as if to explain it all. “Old man sold me the beans.” “Ah. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that.” Ezra rubbed his temples, trying not to dwell on the implication that humans could apparently grow ladders to the heavens out of plants. “Well, you’re here either way. This is…really pretty incredible. A human…! I don’t suppose you have any recipes you wish to share from the Center of the Universe?” “The Center of the…What?” “Nevermind. I just thought I’d ask. I’m a cook. Ezra Kettle.” Ezra extended a hand for a handshake, then remembered he had to crouch down again for it to be of any use to the boy. The human shook several of his fingers awkwardly. “You’re not going to cook me, are you…?” “…Cook you!?” Ezra remembered the fateful snoring of the Walking Mountain himself down the hall and covered his mouth, repeating himself in a more hushed tone. “Cook you, lad? What sort of creatures do you take us for? We don’t eat humans! You’re intelligent and you’ve got…a face. I mean cows do too, but it’s not the same. What’s your name?” The ragged boy shuffled his feet. “Jack. I’m Jack Nimble.” “Jack.” Ezra stood up again and started pacing, giving a worried glance down the hall. “Look. My boss, well, my Master is asleep right now after having drained half the wine stores as usual. If he wakes up and see you, I can’t guarantee he wouldn’t try to bake you in a pie or turn you into bread filling out of sheer sport. I’ve got to put up with him until my family’s debts are paid, but there’s no need for a human to…” He squinted at Jack, noticing the boy’s hollow cheeks. Sighing, he reached onto a rack and pulled out one of the golden egg custard tarts that hadn’t sold the day before. It was small enough to fit in the palm of Ezra’s chubby hand, its metallic sheen and sugary glaze glinting in the moonlight, but Jack took it eagerly with both hands. He stared up at Ezra in wonder. “I can eat it, sir? I mean…is this food?” Ezra rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course! Consider it a free sample.” He sat down at the table and sighed, glancing alternately between the lump of bread dough and Jack eating the tart as if it were a king’s feast. Had it been his own recipe, Ezra thought, Jack would be brought to joyful tears with one taste; then again, he reminded himself, the very hungry rarely had discerning palates. “Listen, Master Nimble. I’m serious when I say you can’t be found when my master wakes up. I’ll give you someplace to sleep nice and hidden, and in the morning I’ll tell him I need to pick something up from the market and bring you to the constables. They’ll send you home with one of the merchants and take care of that beanstalk thing.” “Won’t be necessary, sir. I can climb back down on my own.” Jack had already finished off half the tart, though he was starting to slow. “Never had something like this! Is there really gold in it? Do giants eat gold?” “Shh, keep your voice down! It’s…well, the goose lays eggs like that. I don’t think there’s really gold in it. The yolks just look gold and taste sweet on their own. Nobody bred Golden Egg Geese like the Kettle line.” Ezra held his nose up proudly for just a moment before a thundering snore reminded him of his situation. “Well, we did, anyway.” There was no need to explain the technicalities of family debts to a human boy who had bigger problems to deal with. “Did you lose your geese?” “We lost our fortune. It’s a long story and I won’t burden you with it. Everything in the Kettle name belongs to Hamilton Tooth now, including my foreseeable future ‘til I work off those debts. But never you mind that. I’m learning the craft and I’m more than well fed as you can see; would be petty of me to wish for more.” Ezra imagined the more he told himself that, the less resentful he’d feel. “And whatever kind of person Master Tooth is, he’s talented and productive. So the rest doesn’t really matter, or shouldn’t…” Jack licked the last of the tart off his fingers and leaned back against the cupboard, sighing and looking distant. “We lost our cow. We lost everything else too, but I really loved that cow…” Ezra felt shame burning his cheeks. “See? This is what I mean! You don’t need me burdening you with my problems. But-but think of it this way. You can go back down and brag that you were able to reach the Sky Islands on your own. Get some of the beans growing off that beanstalk and sell ‘em and make yourself rich. There’s plenty of glory to be found for you now! Just…not here in this miser’s house. I wouldn’t trust him not to do something awful and…” He shuddered, imagining Tooth looming like a hairy old mountain over poor Jack. “You need anything else to eat? I know you’re small, but it was just one egg tart…” Jack shook his head. “If I eat more I’ll be too sleepy. Don’t like staying still long.” “Well, you moved fast enough to sneak into Hamilton Tooth’s bakery. That’s something. He catches birds that sneak in with glue traps and has me bake ‘em in pies. He’d be spitting mad if he found out I let you in.” Ezra caught himself smiling despite himself (and the misfortune he’d face should just that event occur) and cleared his throat. “Fair enough. I’ll just let you rest in the supply closet. Sun and Moon know he never sets a foot in there if he can send me instead to…” He fell silent as the dulcet tones of a soft, androgynous voice echoed from Tooth’s room. The harp was awake again, singing its wordless, discordant song that fell somewhere between a voice and the pluck of strings. Ezra shuddered; he hated the way it sounded. “Just ignore that damned thing. Master Tooth doesn’t believe me when I say it turns on by itself, but you hear it. At least it’ll keep my master out better than the wine will…” But Jack wasn’t listening to Ezra. He was standing up alert, staring off in the direction of the song. “What is that, sir?” “It’s a harp. Just a harp. Apparently that’s one of his family’s heirlooms. It’s got some kind of mechanism that causes it to play and sing on its own. Damned if I know how it works but I’m no tinker. Ghastly awful thing with this grinning face, but that overgrown lout can’t get enough of the stupid toy. Claims it makes the wine taste sweeter and the money shine brighter or something.” Ezra spoke quickly, unnerved as always by that damned song. “As if having money isn’t enough! But this is a fine chance to get you into the closet; he won’t hear me shuffling around here over that Moon-damned noise. Jack, are you listening?” Jack had a glazed-over look in his eyes, and Ezra told himself it was just from eating too much sugar on an empty stomach. The human boy nodded up at Ezra, who led him into the supply closet and hid him behind bags of salt and flour. He was eerily complacent; perhaps, Ezra thought, the boy was just exhausted after his ordeal. “Just be sure to stay still and try not to snore,” Ezra told his guest. “We’ll see about that beanstalk mess in the morning. Goodnight, Jack.” “Goodnight, Mr. Kettle.” Jack had a peaceful smile on his face, and Ezra set himself at ease. There was nothing dangerous about a human, certainly not one so young. They were just smaller people, and this one had enough problems to deal with. And a harp, he reminded himself, was just a harp. He worked late into the night to make up for the time he’d lost, and didn’t get to sleep for another two hours. When he did he slept like the dead, not even dreaming. The next morning he woke to find the closet door open, with both Jack and Master Tooth nowhere to be seen. The back door was hanging off its hinges and the garden had been trampled, footsteps digging into the soft, grey cloud terrain and stomping rotten blue apples into mush. The hutch where the Golden Egg Goose lived was empty, and the harp was missing. There was already a crowd gathering behind the bakery, whispering and staring at Ezra. Within the hour the constable arrived to arrest him for aiding in the murder of Hamilton Tooth, who lay dead on the surface of the Center of the Universe near the root of an impossibly huge fallen beanstalk. (This chapter was first posted on Jukepop in January of 2015. You can learn more about the story on this tumblr’s main page. If you’re enjoying it, please RT and spread the word. And drop me a line!)

[offpier33]

New Post has been published on https://www.chieffee.co.uk/product/quenchy-london-ladies-duffel-holdall-floral-roses-print-50-cm-25-litres-ql161w/

Quenchy London Ladies Duffel Holdall - Floral Roses Print - 50 cm 25 litres QL161W

Womens 50cm Weekender Designer Holdalls by Quenchy London

Robust and water-resistant shoulder hands bag for travelling, gym or sports package. Ideal travelbag for brief city breaks, weekends away and also over night vacations.

Measurements – L50cm x H28cm x D20cm

Capacity – Roughly 25 Litres

WOMEN’S OVERNIGHT WEEKEND BAG – Medium to large hands luggage size travel bag for ladies

HOSPITAL MATERNITY READY DUFFEL – Be ready and prepared for your last second hurry, wonderful your clothes and baby essential like nappies, wipes and pyjamas

Fashion And Style – PRETTY PINK ROSES DESIGN – These bags are manufactured from satin feel material that is strong and practical. Pink and cream colours result in the bag a great option for your holiday getaway or trip, and would are the ideal beach tote

RYANAIR AND EASYJET Hands BAGGAGE COMPLIANT – Fits easily in to the sign in desk cage for a compatible carryon flight bag on all planes and airlines rather of the trolley situation. Stowaway within the overhead lock onboard.

FEATURES INCLUDE – LIGHTWEIGHT And Durable – These bags have double zip closure, 2 zipped front pockets, ideal for a telephone or purse along with a large primary compartment having a small inside open pocket. There’s a removable and adjustable shoulder handbag strap with metal clips

[kathleencorbett]

Vintage TASHA Purse

Collectble Cross Shoulder Purse

Labeled "stowaway bag" 

Hong Kong

Soft Classic Cotton

Plum  exterior

Pink satin interior

Goldtone shell snap

Features a satin lining and a cushion like exterior.

Measurements:

closed- 8-1/2" x 2-1/2" x 9"

Detachable strap drop- 20" (40')

bag drop- 5" x 9"

Please see photos as they are considered a part of the description.

Condition is Pre-owned

Clean no stains, no tears, holes, rips, wear

(PA-7)