sticky dust


fairytale meme: 7 book adaptations - [1/7] spindle’s end by robin mckinley

   magic in that country was so thick and tenacious that it settled over the land like chalk-dust and over floors and shelves like slightly sticky plaster-dust. (housecleaners in that country earned unusually good wages). if you lived in that country, you had to descale your kettle of its encrustation of magic at least once a week, because if you didn’t, you might find yourself pouring kissing snakes or smile into your teapot instead of water.

The Subway

Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.

There was something perfect to the subway. Riding it every morning was not a chore, not a bore, not even a terrible inconvenience to her. The influx of people shuffling about, the way she could sit among perfect casual strangers, common acquaintances linked only to similar schedules, the regularity of it, the sounds and the sights and the speed of it all. Clarke often missed her stop on purpose to stay just a few minutes longer, looping back. She read entire libraries on the subway, she sketched entire carloads of faces she would never see again, she met and spoke with interesting people. She loved the subway. She was either innately alone, confronted with anonymity in the midst of millions of people as the city woke and she yawned in its veins, speeding along, pushed by the hidden, pulsating, concrete heart somewhere in one of the skyscrapers, or she was full of life, being told stories of cats and birthdays and books and opinions and articles by chatty neighbours. Clarke loved the subway.

She fell in love on the subway. How could she not, since she was open to the magic of its ways? She caught her eye one morning when she was running late, and stared for six stops, the first morning. The next day, she timed her schedule differently, and stared for six stops again. It happened for a week, until an accidental night when she saw this girl, this girl, this girl, the kind they write poems and songs and novels and movies and plays about throughout the history of history.

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So, I know I barely come on here any more :’( but we have some exciting news! Madden is going to be a BIG SISTER!!! Babe number two will hopefully arrive around August next year. We are still super early, around 4 w 3 days, but I’m feeling super positive. I have my first appointment tomorrow for the usual blood test, we head off to France next week, so I will organise my Ob appointment when I return.

Going into “trying” this time around was so much different. I didn’t track any thing, hubs and I just had heaps of sexy time. My main focus was on Madden and it kept my mind focused on other things so I didn’t go cray cray.

Also this time, I just knew I was pregnant. The positive sign didn’t even take a minute to show. I cant wait to see how we go this time around. Madden has been such a blessing and an extremely easy child that I just hope this babe is just as easy. My luck they will be a little trouble maker.

Wish my luck and sticky baby dust 


Starting my fertility meds todayyyyy ♥️

(TMI warning…)

Woooo! So excited! Lol.

So today is cycle day 5! And I started my fertility meds this morning! 😁😁😁

I will be taking them CD5-9. Letrozole (Femara) 5mg daily. It’s the same stuff I got pregnant with my first born on the first time i took it! ….I mean hell, all my husband has to do was LOOK at me that cycle and I was knocked up! 😉🤣 So I’m hoping it will be that easy, this time around! 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

This period has been killer though. Postpartum period is definitely the worst one I’ve had to date. Worst cramps, PMS, and mood swings ever (I give my husband props for dealing with my bitchy attitude the past few days). Plus it’s so heavy comparatively! I had to go and buy larger tampons AND pads and double up wearing *both* at once because I was going through them every HOUR! I called my OBGYN office and they said it was normal for postpartum periods to be heavier than your pre-baby periods. So at least there’s that. Thankfully today it’s started to slow down!

I’m just happy to be starting the meds and to have the possibly of expanding our family soon! Wish me luck! And tons of sticky baby dust! 🍀👶🏻✨

so i got these squid squishies at the store yesterday, theyre very good. there were 4 color options (the others being dark blue and orange) but i didnt get those. they are very sticky and squishy and have water in them, i dont really feel like its a good toy for younger and/or destructive children, it can be a source of a lot of problems and messes… 

but for responsible children or perhaps 21 year olds who spends all their money on anything nintendo, its a great thing to own. 

also here they are not on the ceiling. theyre very sticky and get dust and hair on them very easily so i keep mine in a sandwich bag. 

Still in your mind - Chapter 3

Authors note: Hello darlings, this is the second part of the throwback and it got a hell lot longer than I thought it would be. I hope you all like it. And thank you so much for reading <3

Still 23th of February 2014

I couldn’t believe I just said that. I just agreed to go home with him. What was I thinking? Obviously nothing. My hormones were thinking for me and they hadn’t had any appearance for too long so they were plainly going nuts. What if he was a serial killer or something like that. I mean, I didn’t know him, not really. He could pretend to be whoever. Yes, I panicked. But my face didn’t show anything of my inner conflict. I just smiled at him while my thoughts were rushing in hyper speed. 

Okay, Mona. You like this guy. He is nice and charming and fucking hot. There’s nothing wrong with going to his place. You didn’t promise him to fuck with him. Calm down, it’s just dinner and maybe a movie. Wait, dinner and a movie? Is this a date? Should I ask him if this is a date? No, I won’t ask that, I quickly had a conference with myself.

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What The Overwatch Characters Smell Like.

I know this is probly a bit obscure, but I was talking about it with a friend and this is what we agreed on what the characters smell like.

Edit because of Sombra and Orisa:

Lucio- he probably smells like bananas or somethin fruity. A good smel

Reinhardt- Smells like roses, probably a bakery or some little old lady perfume. He smells nice. Like your favorite grampa

Zarya- probly smells either like bubble gums or that cheap generic floor cleaner that’s a bit too strong.

Genji- doesn’t really smell like anything. Probably a nice light cologne tho

McCree- okay, you know those little tourist attractions that are modeled like the old timey cowboy towns?? Like Bonnie Springs? Yeah he smells like that. In short he smells like those cheap rose scented bar soaps and whiskey and horse poop.

Pharah- smells just like home after a nice cooked meal

Reaper- smells like Fabuloso and the Mexican rose candles mixed with decaying flesh.

Soldier 76- smells like Freedom and corn dogs.

Ana- same as Reinhardt, she’s the little old lady perfume. Also smells like fresh baked cookies and soap.

Mercy- smells like antibiotics and heavy iron.

Zenyatta- a nice incense. He smells calm uvu

Roadhog- smells like dirt and heavy sweat mixed with oil.

Junkrat- smells like heavy sulfur and sewer. He’s a dirty little man.

Hanzo- even though he’s my favorite shimada, I gotta be honest with myself.
He smells like armpits and farts.

Mei- antifreeze.

Torbjorn- smells like an autoshop mixed with oil and fig newtons.

Widowmaker- also probably smells like farts.

Tracer- smells like biscuits and failure. Also known as not freedom and not corn dogs.

Symmetra- smells like some expensive perfume that would take me years to pay off. She’s too good. smells super dirty. A mixture of probably sweat and armpit with Dorito dust and sticky old Mountain Dew.

Winston- smells like peanut butter at the zoo.

Bastion- smells like a friend.

Sombra- smells like one of those generic Mexican metro pcs stores. The ones that are no longer actually metro pcs but they sell like phone cases and they fix your phone for you.

Orisa- smells like a bouncy house and multiple traffic cone plastics. Maybe tarp idek she smells like tarp there you go. Her shield and boost smell like berries.

[image description: a clear jelly squishy, shaped like a light bulb and filled with purple water beads/orbeez, sits on a sheet of clear plastic atop a red watermelon slice pillow. The bulb squishy has a silver-painted end resembling the screw top of a light bulb, complete with raised ridges; the clear bububble end is a simple teardrop-shaped clear case, holding full and a few broken water beads. The effect is somewhat like a water bead holding smaller water beads!]

Lightbulb Jelly Squishy - Mostly $2, $3 AUD.

For folks wanting to find slimes, stress balls and a variety of squishies in offline stores, I strongly recommend that you check out your local dollar shops. Perhaps it’s just an Australian thing, but in the wake of the fading spinner fashion, the stores that stocked spinners are now stocking many kinds of squishies, slimes, plastic slinkies, putties, grape stress balls and balloon stress balls. It’s amazing. I’m not finding a lot in chain stores like The Reject Shop, but the independent dollar shops are a wonderland of stim.

Local prices range from about $2 AUD for the smallest grape stress balls to $13 AUD for the large bread and cake squishies, and the selection is amazing–just today I’ve seen unicorn squishies, bread squishies, two-handed-sized cake squishies and jelly squishies. Many of these are scented, but the larger squishies were slow-rising and quite good quality. Most things are on counter displays by the front of stores, so they’re not difficult to find.

Because of the abundance, though, I’m now only purchasing anything unique or unusual, since I can find most things a little bit cheaper on eBay. (I also have enough squishies now, or so I’ll attempt to keep telling myself.) This lightbulb-shaped jelly squishy caught my eye, though. It’s filled with water beads!

This squishes down really well, and the feeling of the water beads underneath the jelly coating is a softer, quieter version of a bead-filled ice pack. I really love the feel of the beads rolling under my fingertips when I squish down on it, and I think I have to try and make myself some water-bead-filled balloon stress balls. It’s almost a massaging sensation, one I find super pleasing. I suspect some care in use is required, since mine does contain some broken water beads. I wouldn’t toss this in a carry bag for fear of it getting crushed.

Unlike a normal squishy, there’s no slow-rising aspect to this.

There’s two downsides to this. The first is that it has a strong chemical plastic smell, just like many grape stress balls. The second is that the clear bulb part of the ball is sticky. Stick-to-your-hand sticky. It doesn’t leave any residue on your skin, thankfully, so that the ball stops sticking the moment you pull it away. The problem is more to do with dust, dirt, hair or anything sticking to the squishy, and, as I discovered when Dad grabbed at it with sugar-covered hands, washing it makes it more sticky. I suspect a dusting of cornflour will solve this, but it will cloud the clear plastic, so for the moment I’m storing it in a ziplock bag.

It’s not a toy that’s easy to use, and anyone who dislikes the feel of stickiness on their skin should avoid it. I have to say, though, that I still really like the feel of squishing down on the water beads, and it’s such a unique, cool-looking toy. I still like it, probably more than I should.

Xoi. Xoi lap xuong is definitely what Grey’s eating in this passage in Remember the Dust:

“Oh my god,” said Laney. Jack unlocked the door to find her standing over Grey, who was shoveling at a bowl of hot rice and ignoring her. “You’re feeding yourself, Grey. You closed a book, and went and fed yourself.” … 

Jack dropped his pack by the door and got himself a bowl of Grey’s leftover rice, which even had a little sausage and leafy greens tossed in there.

I mean. Also I love this passage (the Grey-Laney dynamic! The Jack-Laney dynamic!)

Title: Hogmanay

Rating: G

Word Count: 800+

A/N: I was listening to holiday music on the way to school and I decided I needed to do something cute and holiday-y with Meritosh. There’s a good possibility there will be more of this in the future. Also, Macintosh and children is A++++

Originally he was supposed to leave DunBroch and return to his homestead by summer’s end, but it seemed fate had a different plan. On the day his fleet was meant to set sail for the Isle of Skye they saw one of the worst storms that anyone could remember in recent years. The wind sounded like banshees and it was a miracle that any of their long boats could be secured before everyone was forced inside castle and tents to wait out the thunder.

After that first divine intervention, it seemed like something always came up at the worst possible moment. They needed to gather new supplies, they fell ill, they needed to build a new long boat. It came as no surprise when Lord Macintosh and his men stayed well passed harvest and into winter.

She could always hear whenever he was around, not for any clodding on his part, but all of the maidens’ giggling. In celebration for Hogmanay he donned a crown made of mistletoe and was never seen without it. Merida couldn’t help but wonder of if the crown was from the year before, or even the year before that, seeing how readily he had it on hand. But it was harmless and added to the festive air around the castle, so she didn’t tease him too much about it.

As the festivities grew closer the castle grew heavy with the smell of delicious foods and perfumes. Children ran through the grounds, ducking under the handmaids’ long wool skirts as they get a little too caught up with their play. Merida happily joined in with them, locking hands as they danced around in a circle and sang made up songs. A couple of particularly ambitious girls even got her to sit for them as they tried to make something of her mop of hair. She sat stiff as a poker as they worked the coal hot curls into braids, blinking the occasional tears away when they pulled a wee bit too hard.

Then he came and filled up the room in the way that he always did, with his too long limbs and infectious grin. He was carrying a tray full of empire biscuits, stacked so high that every single child left her side and leapt at him, little hands reaching up for a taste. He snickered as he walked around them, finding the occasional clinger hanging off his leg. Placing the tray on the long wooden table, he snatched the fattest biscuit of the bunch and plucked the cherry from the center before offering it to the swarm of sticky hands.

As he dusted the crumbs from his tartan, the sweetest little bairn tugged on the corner of his kilt until he looked down. After locking sights with her big blue eyes he had no choice but to hoist her up in his arms, smacking a little kiss on her cheek to her delight. “Another, another!” she squeaked. And then every wee lass wanted a kiss from the handsome lord. Merida laughed as girl after girl lined up, fingers digging into their cheeks as they waited for him to plant one on them. She finally took mercy when a few started going around for seconds.

“Lord Macintosh,” she said, clapping her hands. “whit would Maudie say if she saw ye slacking off like this? Come on, then.” And she dragged him away by the arm before one more cherub-like voice could demand a kiss.

She kept up her stony demeanor only as far as outside the hall before bending over with a peal of laughter. “I knew that crown was going to get ye into trouble.” She snickered, dabbing the corner of her eye with her knuckles.

He grinned, pushing back an unruly wave with his hand. “Aye, but it’s brought a lot of fun, too. I think I’ve kissed just about everyone in this castle, everyone but –“

“Me,” She said, lifting a brow at him. The light rust that colored his cheeks pleased her in a way that she couldn’t explain. “I meant to talk to ye about that. Doesn’t seem… fair, does i’? Ye go around kissin’ everyone but yer queen. People will think my breath stinks.”

“It does, like the dead.”

She shoved him playfully, pearly whites dimpling her lip. “It’s fer the best, I s’pose. ‘s not like I wanted a kiss anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on my queen.”

“That’s right, ye wouldn’t –“

But he did, and she couldn’t find a single part of her that faulted him for it. Her hand fisted in his wine red tartan, pulling him closer as she went in for kiss after kiss.

It was a shame when Maudie caught them and spilled the contents of three entire trays on the ground. At least the hounds would eat well.

anonymous asked:

ColdFlash and handcuffed?

“Be so kind and get me out of these when you’re done,” Len snaps, but his put-upon glare only revives Barry’s bout of hysterical laughter. It’s hard to take Cold seriously when he’s slumped on a dusty floor, handcuffed to old-but-sturdy pipes, and sulking in a way really unbecoming of a man way over forty.

Barry crouches down, elbows resting on his knees, and peeks at Cold from up close. Not that it helps, but it makes the man look like a bristling cat, and Barry, against his better judgment, is amused.

“I told you Gotham was a bad idea,” he comments, inspecting the sharp pointy thingy in the shape of a bat, sticking out of the wall mere inches away from Cold’s left ear. 

“Will you get me out of these or not?” Cold snarls and moves his hand, the cuff rattling insistently against the pipes. Barry contemplates leaving him there, but, unfortunately, Snart’s criminal expertise is required in several places at once, and none of those places are this dank ruin of a building. 

(Barry has a vague feeling that it wasn’t a ruin the last time he’s been here; Gotham goes through architectural landmarks at an alarming rate.)

He leans forward, kneeling in the sticky dust underneath to reach behind Snart’s back. It puts them uncomfortably close, as far as Barry’s concerned - Leonard Snart has this weird ability to be unsettling from afar, but downright paralyzing up close. Barry has never quite figured out what it is about this man that makes Barry’s brain freeze up for long, torturous seconds at a time - he’s had a vague inkling, here and there, a confused insect in his stomach caused by a quirk of an eyebrow, a flutter in his chest as a result of a curled-up lip. 

He’s been avoiding thinking about it, but even denial can take him only so far when Snart smirks at him like he knows exactly what’s going on in the speedster’s mind. He’s far too close for comfort and Barry has to get closer in order to get to the handcuffs, so he shoves the improper, half-formed thoughts away just as he shoves his hand around the man’s hip to reach the pipe. 

And of course Snart is an infuriating asshole - instead of twisting his body sideways to help Barry get to the handcuff, he stays right where he is with his back to the pipes, and spreads his legs obscenely wide, offering Barry space to move closer, eyebrow raised in an invitation. His hands are still trapped behind his back and it drapes the thermal shirt tight across his chest, rounds his shoulders in a way that makes Barry want to touch.

Barry almost chokes at the sight. He’s really glad that a good half of his face is still covered with his cowl, and that there’s probably not enough light in here to make his blush too obvious. He shifts forward, as little as he can, and reaches for the handcuff again - his fingers brush the metal, almost there, almost, just an inch forward, and another, and he can clasp his hand around the material.

Snart tilts his head and his gaze catches on Barry’s lips. Barry swallows and his brain refuses to remember the right frequency for getting someone out of handcuffs. He swallows again, unable to look away from Snart even though he probably should, for the sake of efficiency. His fingers feel clumsy through his gloves, but he refuses to move that last crucial inch closer, not when Snart’s looking at him like he wants to eat Barry alive (and Barry feels like he might actually let him). In a vague attempt to get a better hold on the cuff, Barry pulls the handcuff upwards-

-and oh, what a spectacularly horrible idea that turns out to be.

Snart’s shoulders strain against the angle and it makes him lean forward, breaching Barry’s personal space so far that Barry can actually feel Snart’s breath brushing against his exposed jaw. The unexpected movement punches a startled sound out of Snart, tiny and high-pitched and oddly strangled, and Barry lets out a slow, shaky breath in response. He doesn’t want to look at Snart, acknowledge that small, reluctant sound and what it has done to his willpower and sanity, but there’s suddenly nowhere to look BUT at Snart, into his icy blue eyes that suddenly look younger and vulnerable and a little bit apprehensive. 

If Barry didn’t know better, he would even say Snart’s… embarrassed.

And this is the story of Barry’s life, not knowing better when he really, really should. It has propelled him through time and space, hurtling towards dangers unseen and unimagined, and the same momentum of all horrible ideas in the world now pushes him that last half-inch into the madness that is kissing Leonard Snart.

If anyone could ever master the contradictory art of going both pliant and straining for control in the span of one (admittedly, great) kiss, Snart is definitely it. Barry doesn’t even try to bite back the sounds he’s making as Snart licks into his mouth and nips at his lips, just this side of too hard, too sharp. Barry’s fingers tighten involuntarily on the handcuff and Snart makes that sound again, that one tiny, choked-off sound. 

For one weird second, Barry’s mind takes the unexpected route of speculating whether or not Leonard Snart has chosen his criminal career path solely to accommodate his glaringly obvious handcuff kink, but then, Snart is sucking on Barry’s tongue and any train of thought is forgotten for a good long while.

‘Breathless and flushed’ is a great look on Captain Cold, Barry decides when the need for oxygen becomes too great to ignore. He pulls back and grins at Snart, because that’s what he does when he’s really, really hot for someone. Come to think of it, that might be the first time he’s acknowledged it even in the confines of his mind: he’s hot for Captain Cold.

It sounds like a spectacularly bad porn movie involving ice cubes and glass dildos (and there will never be enough brain bleach to remove THAT accidental discovery from Barry’s mind), but strangely, Barry finds he doesn’t really care.

Snart, it seems, has a different opinion.

“Will you get me out NOW?!” he snaps, even though his voice is still a bit rougher than it normally would be. Barry decides to take that as a compliment and finally remembers how to vibrate his hand at just the right frequency.

The cuff stays firmly in place.

Barry blinks.

Snart glowers.

Barry sighs.

“Right. Batman’s cuffs. My powers probably aren’t gonna work. Just… stay put, alright?”

He’s gone in a flash, but not fast enough that he doesn’t hear the strangled insults and creative threats.

He decides not to think too hard about the fact that Batman predicted Barry coming to Captain Cold’s rescue. 


If you're never sorry
Then you can't be forgiven
If you're not forgiven
Then you can't be forgotten
If you're not forgotten
Then you can live forever
If you live forever
Then you'll begin to dream (x)

warning: profanity and christmas and LUCAYAAAA, so if you are offended by one of the three of them, please do not read. also: this was literally written in a day and unedited and this is really really not good, it’s basically Lucaya neighbor AU If they lived in the suburbs, so I hope you guys like this, because there are basically no lucaya christmas fics at. all.



Lucas Friar/Maya Hart.


A boy moves into the house next to hers on a Saturday.

The house has been empty for ages, all sticky spider webs and dust that gathers in the vintage bookshelf upstairs—a symbol of the past, of an age long since past.

She doesn’t expect it to be bought, she lives in Emerald Heights for fuck’s sake, a sign that you pass by in highways and forget the moment your car rushes forward, Emerald Heights, population:7,000.

Because no one would want to live in the Californian suburbs, in Emerald Heights, where the grass is dry and yellow and brown as it whips in the wind, where coyotes howl and the houses are fading somehow, they are old and lost and forgotten, in the background of the lights of Los Angeles, only a few miles above them.

Because no one would want to live here, and she stands on the sidewalk with a caramel frappuccino, contemplating his choices.


She knows his name because of the other neighbors, who crowd at his door and ring his doorbell and leave casseroles for dear, dear Lucas Friar, who is apparently the epitome of a politeness and what a gentleman should be, all charming smiles and bright eyes and conversations on insurance with Mrs. Wang across the street and earl grey tea with Mrs. Davidson at four o’clock.

Because he wears plaid shirts and cowboy hats and looks like the male lead from Disney Channel tv show, all grins and green eyes and boyish charm.

And she hates that.

Because he fits right in, because he’s not an outsider like she is, even after months of trying, his house doesn’t stand out in a straight line of white picket fences and blue painted walls like hers does, with glass windows and a chandelier and black and white decor that’s modern and hipster and urban, it doesn’t fit in the suburbs of California, in Emerald Heights.

She hates people like him, who are charming and blonde and moderately good looking, she’s hated people like that ever since she was six years old, when her father, who was also bonde and charming and fit in with the neighbors, who gave ten dollar tips to waitresses just left one day without a fucking trace.

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There is mango juice
dripping down my chin and I
wish you were here to
see it.

I think this is what it means
to be happy that somebody exists
even though they do not exist
with you,

but I never understood
the power of joy until
I met you

and I’m not sure
I know how to do it without you.
I can’t remember the last time I
smiled like this:

my mouth overflowing with
starlight and my hands
sticky with moon dust and

whispering into my hair from a table
thousands of miles away,
not even realising you’re talking
to me,

never knowing the power
of your joy over mine.

—  L.G. Joy
and time does tell

DR/SDR2 | Junkomaeda
Summary: He doesn’t have that much left, and when she finds out she scatters all the pills in the medicine cabinet onto the floor and screams with fury and madness and sorrow and god knows what else until she goes hoarse.
Notes: For kohmaidah/sonofunderworld, who requested a fic based off of line thirty in and maybe if!

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qinaliel  asked:

I'm terrible at prompts so if this doesn't inspire you I'll understand lol: Jon x Sansa and one of them has amnesia? With a side order of angst, please?

It inspired me, and I’ve written these in the past for different fandoms and provided Kleenex as an add-on. Only I think my writing has changed, and for now I’m still unable to write a proper tear-jearker of a piece for J/S. I’ll get there one day, I promise.

But this is still angsty af (I hope?) on Jon’s end (because it’s his POV again, yay!) and hopefully it’s still in-character. Well, as much as it could be given the verse and the theme and the overall storyline, lol. Yep, so, enjoy and let me know if you liked it or loved it or loathed it with a passion (or me, for that matter :p)!

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Dallta Sheumais: Chapter Ten

Previous Installments

 Thank God it wasn’t raining, I thought as we made our way down the hill.  We had been lucky on our journey.  It was Scotland so of course it did rain,  but for us, not heavily,  and we never got snow. I kept us moving away from the stones as fast as possible,  never stopping for too long,  never allowing time for fear or panic, to creep in. Time passed uneventfully beyond the fact that we were now in the 1700s. Brian had taken it fairly well, with only a mild look of shock and bewilderment when we got to Inverness so I could buy a horse. He stayed quiet and clung to my side.  There were moments,  brief windows of time where we had to eat or sleep I would tell him bits and pieces of where we were and the life that we would have.  That was how we passed the journey,  and for the most part Brian seem happy. He was plainly glad to be away from Boston and out in nature.  I was starting find it a dragged,  and the mere promise of a warm bed to sleep in was keeping me going.   I was still unbearably nervous,  I had now idea what may await when I arrived a Lallybroch,  what Culloden had done to it.

We were cresting a hill when I first saw it again,  lying nestled and picturesque. The outbuildings were different,  there were sheds that hadn’t been there before. The main house was exactly the same, almost frighteningly so,  as if no time at all had gone by since I left.   I took a deep breath and settled Brian closer to me on the horse, pointing down the valley saying, “That’s Lallybroch, that were we are going to live.” Hopefully. I had no idea what life would be like there now and how they would take on the burden of two extra mouths to feed.

The horse was having some trouble getting down the steep incline. I  had to get off to help lead her down the hill.  Brian stayed on, his hands gripping tight to the reins. He looked as nervous as I did, I thought. I reached up and squeezed his foot, smiling as reassuringly as I could. The descent down the hill felt like it took years, my heart was pounding like a kettle drum and I was dizzy. Sweat  dripped uncomfortably off my brow and neck. We were just yards from the gates of Lallybroch and a swell of memories flooded my brain, each moment I had past through these gates whirled around me. I paused and wiped my face, unconscious tears running hot and sticky down my dust covered face.  I paused, and went through the gate. 

 It was mid morning, but the yard was empty, except for one young man sitting his face turn up to the sun. He was very handsome, with dark lashes and a mop of black curls. I blot struck me through my heart and I called out, “My God! Fergus is that you.”

He got up in a moment and he too looked liked he had been struck through the heart, he ran up and gathered me into a bone crushing. He held me to him amid a flurry of, “Milady, God has restored you,” and “I never dreamt,” and other statements praising God and his many miracles. His accent was still heavily French and he had an air of aristocracy about him, that made me beam at him despite myself. My moment of head clogging joy was soon broken by a short, “Mama.” Fergus looked in the direction of the noise and his eyes went as round as saucers. Brian who was standing by the horse partially hidden from view, but no amount of concealment could hide that red hair.

I looked over at Fergus who was still staring at Brian with an expression of gape mouthed awe. I placed Brian in front of me and said, “This is Brian, my son.”

Fergus looked at Brian for a long while,  taking in the copper hair,  blue eyes,  and high cheekbones,  so much like Jamie’s.  Though Brian’s face was still spattered with freckles of youth.  Fergus let out a small laugh and said, “Well Milady he looks nothing like you.  That is good,  no one can say Milord is not his father.”  I too laughed at that,  though images of the odd looks that accompanied us as we lived in Boston,  everyone knowing,  but never saying,  that Brian could never possibly be Frank’s.   Fergus crouched down and looked over Brian once more critically,  Brian who was most definitely unamused by this looking over stuck out his chin and straightened his shoulders,  giving Fergus the best look of self righteous arrogance an almost six year old could muster.  Fergus laughed again,  bowing his head to Brian,  “He is most definitely Milords son,  though” He added practically,  “he does have your ears”

Authors note: Yay! here you go kiddos.  I have decided to abandon my 1000 work update because it doesn’t work for everything and sometimes less is more.   I trust you all will like this.  Thank you all for reading and have a happy holiday.


Remember this girl?  Apparently ‘coming soon’ means 'coming when my internet’s out for five days’ =p

Say hello to Catrina-Anne Tebellum.  She’s about 150 years old and her favorite color is pink…aaaand that’s about all I know so far.

She’s a Scaris line Skelita I got loose on eBay and is my first foray into Monster High customs.  I got sucked into doll review sites and thence into the custom stuff back in January and figured 'hey, it’s been a long time since 1999…I bet I’ve accrued enough levels in kitbash that I can totally do this’.  So here we are.  I went for something a little more understated than most people seen to do with Skelita, unless you count her eyes.  Those were cut out and sockets made with Model Magic, which was glued in place with Loctite vinyl adhesive (flexible, highly recommended).  Her 'eyes’ are just some beads glued on pieces of black wire and painted, then coated with luminous paint so they’ll glow, because the Book of Life style of eyes really appealed to me.  This way they’re also somewhat poseable as well, which was part of the plan.  All paint used is Folk Art acrylic - I think the only professional grade thing about her is her wig, which is a Monique Gold.  She’s sealed with Aleene’s matte sealer and considering she spent a few months sitting atop my art desk while end-of-winter and spring with all its humidity went on, she’s held up fairly well.  Not much stickiness and minimal dust attraction.

I regret the dress.  I regret the dress deeply :'D  She’ll get a new and much better one as soon as I can save up for some actual MH size clothing patterns.  Right now I prefer her in her undies because the dress ended up looking more like something from the bowels of  The hat, however, is just fine somehow.

There are a few more projects I have planned along this line, but I don’t know right now how long it’ll take me to get to them.

…and yes somewhat-nerdy that is in fact the pincushion you gave me she’s sitting on in the last (and my favorite) pic; it makes a great chair XD