#the bravery to even dm me this

[dovewingkinnie]

someone on twitter dmned me with an entire analysis saying that my posts with characters being affectionate towards each other are cries for help because i crave genuine love

what

#the bravery to even dm me this #LMAO #i don’t even know why my dms are open #i’ve gotten the funniest dms though so maybe it’s worth it #do i ever answer them? #nah #too lazy #but #they are goofy

[kaistrashbin]

Hello dear, me again~

I do read your tags and chuckle about them. Sending these asks in is lots of fun for me <3

Now then, since you seem to like petnames I think I'll keep using them. Do you have a specific preference by the way? Asking for a friend ;)

By the by, I'd rather put some bite marks on your neck or shoulder than on your arm. Much more fun don't you think? Though I'm sure lipstick marks would look wonderful on you as well. Something to think about I suppose.

- Valentine

Yeah yeahhh, lots of fun 😠 smhhhh

Like I'd put a list like that in an ask 😤

I- 😳 Yk what no, I don't think 😀 I've completely lost the ability to think 😀 😭

#im not genuinely mad or grumpy LMFAOOO #just wanted to make that clear #I WILL NOT be listing petnames on a post though 💀 DM's or nothing I don't have that kind of bravery and I can't be bothered to make a blog #........... bite marks........... #bites.......... where....? 😳 NOW HOLD ON- NOW- NOW LISTEN 😳 #..................... LIPSTICK MARKS?????????? I- 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #THAT'S ENOUGH INTERNET FOR TODAY TY #LORD- #“something to think about” cause you know it's gonna be stuck in my head now #you motherf- #kai answers #valentine anon #YOU'RE ON THIN ICE MISS (I say even though im shaking like a leaf /j) #also not me going teehee and kicking my feet when I see you in my inbox BWAHAHAHA

[dailyadventureprompts]

DM Advice: More Than You Can Chew

Time and again I’ll have folks write in with a really solid idea for a big picture campaign concept or third act twist with a request to help bridge the gap between the low levels/start of the campaign and the thing they’re excited for. I love helping these folks, but as someone who looks for structural answers to problems it’s made me think there might be something lacking in how we’re teaching DMs to tell stories.

If I had to break it down into pure fundamentals: The constant guiding theme in any and all adventure or campaign writing is that whatever the party happen to be doing, whether it be hunting monsters, protecting an ally, exploring a ruin, or planning a heist, It’s only a piece of a far larger story. This larger story operates at a greater scale than the party currently has a means of dealing with, initially making them feel like small fish in a big pond and providing a great sense of achievement when they finally do manage to take on the larger threats.

 On a Campaign Basis:

When plotting a story arc you should start with a goal, something difficult but conceptually achievable that the party can throw themselves at with cleverness or daredevil bravery. Rescue the Heir, Save the Village, Avert the Disaster, Steal the Jewel. The task is not impossible, but the solution is not obvious requiring them to explore, be crafty, and get inventive. It’s best if they’re invested in accomplishing this goal in some way, so make the stakes personal and resonant with the characters and their desires.

In the background however you’ve got something else cooking, a larger story that the party are only pieces in, a conflict between individuals and forces far larger than they’ve previously dealt with that’s been going on unseen. Start with how the party achieving their initial goal will affect the world: who’s it going to piss off? what tenuous balance does it disrupt? What had to be done to keep that balance in place? Do any of the power players in this arrangement see the party as their opportunity to make a move and so throw their support behind this seemingly innocuous goal? What prices do they extract?

Villains are generally going to be your primary link between the small and large scale stories, but it’s important to set them up correctly; the villains are acting/reacting in relation to the larger story and their actions trod on the lives of the party/the people the party care about. In trying to correct this injustice (if only for selfish reasons) the party gain the villain’s attention/the attention of that villain’s enemies ( though whether they be allies or villains themselves depends on the story) and suddenly find themselves caught up in the events of the larger narrative.

While it’s a good idea to plan the goal based adventure as something the party can objectively “win”, I prefer setting up the background scenario as a delicate sort of jenga tower: things were inevitably going to fall apart but there’s no way to predict how. That’s because your players a) are chaos agents b) have agency, and it’s all about seeing how they choose to act/react in the face of an overwhelming scenario. 

The small scale story is about the lives of the heroes/people, where as the larger scale story is about the outcome of ideas/the world.  You do the small story first because getting your audience to care about themes and lore is best done through getting them to care about characters first, and then using their plights and passions as a lens to see the bigger picture.

Advice on using this technique on specific adventures under the cut:

You give your party an idea what they’re supposed to be doing, likely in line with the central gameplay pillar. Again, challenging but achievable, they can guess at the steps they’ll need to succeed even if they need to do some prepwork

Be sure to mention specific risks or unknowns that go along with this task, inviting them to take countermeasures or go off the safe path for potential gain.

Figure out some plothooks and emotional appeals: sympathy, greed, amusement, power, fear. Figure out the notes your party best responds to and learn to alternate them between adventures. Playing the same note too many times makes your party not want to bite the plothook.

Do some worldbuilding, whether tying it into existing lore or spinning up some new ideas: Why are things happening this way, why now?

Now figure out the twist, the thing that’s going to happen someway along your adventure that’ll shift the party from predictable challenges to unpredictable ones. Hired to protect a merchant’s valuable cargo along dangerous roads (combat)? Turns out its an enslaved sentient creature destined for a terrible fate, which the party could free at great personal cost ( ethical). Delving the ruin so the local wizard will kit you out with gear (exploration)? Woops, you’ve come back to find his petrified body smashed to bits in what just might be a magical assassination ( mystery).

Flipping the challenge on its head in this way is what makes an adventure memorable as it gives your party that “oh shit” moment that kickstarts their brain into alertness. A twist that’s predictable isn’t a twist, which is why so many “shadowy employer betrayal” adventures fall flat. Likewise, giving them a somewhat predictable challenge at first gives them material to improvise solutions to emergent, unpredictable problems.

It’s always a good idea to figure out what failure looks like for this adventure. Killing the party off is likely to be unsatisfying, but making them live with their mistakes is what makes a campaign into an actual story. Set up npcs who’s lives will be ruined, have the party’s enemies grow in strength, make them lose out on potentially valuable treasure. These not only give weight to your player’s choices but they act as their own plothook later down the line when you give the party a chance to undo what they’ve done.

#DM tools #DM advice #dm tips #dm tip #Dungeons and Dragons #d&d #d&d homebrew #dm starterpack #writing #writing advice #more than you can chew #drafting an adventure #adventure design

[chachued]

━━ SPANISH TUTOR | 1610!MILES MORALES

Miles stood in his doorway, confused yet curious as to why you, of all people, had been sitting in his room with his Spanish textbook.

↳ 1610!miles morales x fem!reader

W/C:

CONTENTS: enemies to lovers (or more accurately, academic rivals to lovers), a lot of banter, fluff, half proofread!!

A/N: if anyone has any idea how to make an aesthetically pleasing layout for tumblr posts, please PLEASE dm me!!! made the last few parts in the middle of econ class, so im sorry if it's not the best!!

“You?” Miles dropped his bag on the floor.

“Yeah,” you smiled with a cheap, putrid grin spewing across your face. “Me.”

Miles groaned as his head fell back. “I don’t need this right now, I need to—“

Before he could say anything he’d deeply regret, he stopped himself and just stared at you. His tongue was in a twist, having absolutely no words to say.

You — The one he hates, the one whom él pensaba que era hermosa, and the one who had been sitting on the floor of his room.

he thought was beautiful.

He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Okay, why are you here?”

“Because you’ve been missing your sessions, and thankfully, Ganke let me in just before he left.”

Miles’ face was in complete confusion. His nose was wrinkled, his mouth agape, and his eyebrows were furrowed. It was the whole package for goodness sake.

“Okay— Okay! Let’s just…” He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. His exhale was ragged, and it was almost like you could tell he was enraged. “Why are you here?”

“I just said so.”

“Nah, you didn’t.”

“You were missing sessions.”

“I don’t even know what you’re on about,” he yelled, covering his face with his palms.

Honestly, Miles wanted to jump out his window right about now. He could not take any second of your insufferable voice. His hands dragged down from his eyes to his chin — clearly distraught.

His reaction put an off-putting smile on your face. He could not do this anymore.

“Nah, you know what?” Miles took a step back. “I ain’t doing this.”

“Your parents hired me.”

Time slowed down, his eyes were wide, and he lacked the previous bravery to speak. He swiftly admitted defeat, grabbing his bag and walking to you slowly.

Miles was never one to give up so quickly. However, he doesn't have a choice when his family is involved.

You were enjoying this.

You offered a pen, which Miles took lazily.

And there it is — that giggle.

He held his breath as he took in the sound of your laughter. "You sound stupid."

"Says the Latino who is getting tutored in Spanish."

Miles huffed, "I'm only half."

This time, you stifled the giggle. Even though you adore this, you couldn't bear to spend another minute with Miles Morales.

He could tell. Of course, he can.

“Okay, so, what are you having trouble with?” you asked, attempting to not laugh at him.

“You’re not even trying to be professional!”

“I am—“ You took a deep breath, but at last, a snort still sneaked its way out. “—trying.”

Miles furrowed his eyebrows, regretting not kicking you out as soon as he saw you. “No estás intentando, cariña.”

you are not trying, darling.

You ignored his comment, continuing to flip through the pages of his textbook. “Let’s start here.”

Miles bit the cap of his pen while he doodled above the premade questions. “So how come you don’t have any friends?”

You looked up from your phone. “I have a lot.”

Now, it was his turn to laugh.

"What? Is it that hard to believe?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, come on, I have William, Stacy..."

The cap bites completely stopped. "They barely talk to you — Those are acquaintances."

You shrugged your shoulders, continuing to look down and scroll on your phone. It gave Miles an unusual worry.

The silence was deafening.

"I guess I don't have any friends friends."

That uneasiness worked its way up to Miles' head, coming down to his lips. "Well," he said.

You hummed in response.

"You know I'm your friend, right?"

Almost like a primal instinct, you jolted back. Not sure whether to be thankful, decline, agree, or laugh. There's so many ways to reply, but none of them were right — Some rude, for that matter.

Miles coughed to interrupt your train of thought, probing an answer out of you with just his curious look.

"I didn't know you were my friend."

"Ah, dale, querida! You are since primer uno," he reassured with that big goofy grin.

come on, dear. you are since day one,

"You made an imaginary competition to be better than me."

"Aka since day one, you have made me a better person."

You offered a meek smile, giggling a bit at his attempt to make you feel better. The bright side is it didn't make you feel worse. That's the minimum, according to Miles.

"Friends go to each other's houses, so isn't this what we're doing?"

"I broke in."

"And I forgive you."

Now both of you had lopsided grins. It was embarrassing, but not with him. It could never be embarrassing.

Mostly because you're tutoring a Hispanic Spanish.

Miles teased, "Mi tutora de español."

thank you for reading through it all <3

please take my a/n seriously because i genuinely need it.

#miles molares #miles morales x reader #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman x reader #atsv #peter parker #spiderman x y/n #miles morales x y/n #marvel #marvel x reader

[bluemoonperegrine]

A Friend Indeed

This is my foray into the obligatory "Jack staggers up to Bloodstone Manor on death's doorstep in need of Elsa's aid" genre.

The thing is that I'm not terribly sure what happens next, so if anyone wants to take a stab at it, feel free! I think it would be great if multiple people did. I have some ideas about exactly why Jack is in such bad shape. If you want to hear them, DM me. If you want to make it up, that's fine too.

Rating: Gen Characters: Jack Russell, Elsa Bloodstone, original characters Word Count (so far): ~1500 Warnings: None

The sedan hit a pothole hard enough to make Jack’s stomach lurch. Keeping his eyes closed, he inhaled sharply and tried not to retch.

“Do NOT vomit in my car, Terry,” Athena said to his left.

Jack had disliked the vampire soon after meeting her at an I-495 truck stop outside Hudson, Massachussetts as the half-full moon brightened deepening twilight. Plump and shorter than he was, the curly-haired woman of Greek descent had informed Jack that his vampire-werewolf niece Nina was the only reason she was giving him a lift. “I’d insist on a drink,” Athena had said while eyeing the part of his neck not covered by his winter coat and scarf, “but your kind tastes… gamey.”

That had been two hours earlier when he’d only had a high fever and moderate pain from the bandaged slash across his right forearm. Jack had had enough willpower to bite back a retort and give the hateful creature a curt nod. Now his arm and head throbbed as lightheadedness crept in. 

“Doing my best,” Jack replied. “And enough with ‘Terry.’” It wasn’t even an original taunt: Jack Russell Terrier to “Terry”. Ha ha. At least he was alive and not a parasite.

In his mind’s eye Nina raised a manicured eyebrow. His niece wasn’t a parasite. She’d struggled but had found her own path. Nina fed on human predators, usually ones able to evade the law. It was ugly business, but the world was better for it.

Athena sniffed. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? Werewolves heal fast.”

“The… thing I was hunting got a few hits in,” Jack said. “One slash broke the skin. It was healing. I called Nina when I started feeling sick.”

“So the ‘thing’ got away.”

Jack snarled, then caught himself and stopped. “I killed it. It won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Ah,” Athena said as she glanced at her iPhone propped on the dashboard. The blue arrow marking their location inched west from the rural town of New Braintree. Jack didn’t recognize the two-lane road Athena was taking, but it had already been dark when he’d approached Bloodstone Manor last fall and he’d been sick with worry. 

Rescuing Ted had nearly ended in disaster. The swamp creature had gleefully told Jack how he’d crashed through the trophy room’s stained-glass ceiling and incinerated Verussa, who’d been about to kill her own stepdaughter. 

How Elsa had survived the wolf Jack didn’t know. Presumably it was a combination of that side of him remembering her scent, and her bravery and intelligence. How fitting that the remarkable woman’s address was Braintree.

“…time to check with contacts, but I think— Russell!” the vampire snapped. 

Jack managed a grin as a reward for not calling him Terry. “Hmm?”

“Pay attention! We’re almost there.”

Jack nodded, which prompted a fresh wave of nausea. 

She gestured at the woods on the north side of the road. “The fence bounding the property is twenty feet that way. Good luck with security.” She leaned forward and scrutinized the dirt shoulder topped with a thin layer of snow. “Once I find a good place to pull over, my debt to Nina is paid in full.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jack said. 

Light from the phone’s display showed Athena’s scowl. “‘Nuh-uh?’”

“You agreed to get me inside. Don’t vampires fly?”

Athena’s eyes flashed red as brought the BMW to an abrupt halt. The motion made Jack’s head swim. “No. But you do.”

Through pain and dizziness Jack was vaguely aware of cold hands hauling him out of the car and through underbrush. “What?” he asked at least once.

They stopped with Athena holding Jack up by a handful of his coat in front of a wrought-iron fence stretching left and right into forest. Jack squinted at the tall, closely spaced bars. He was in no condition to jump or climb. 

He was about to ask Athena to give him a boost when she said, “The manor is due north.” She gave him a fanged smirk, and he was sailing over the fence. 

The ground rushed up and punched him in the head.

Athena chuckled as Jack vomited into leaf litter. “Give Nina my regards, if you survive.”

Jack heard her retreating footsteps between dry heaves. Pinche vampiros.

The next thing Jack knew he was laying on his back and the moon had set.

That didn’t make sense. How had it moved so fast?

You passed out, Ted said in his mind.

“Ted? How did you get here?”

Doesn’t matter, his friend—more than a friend—said. Get up. You must get up.

Groaning, Jack pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Why?”

To see Elsa.

Jack’s right arm buckled, and he nearly fell back. His right arm burned, and he couldn’t feel that hand. “Okay,” he replied.

With his breath forming frosty clouds, Jack got his feet under him and followed Ted’s directions. The dense woods were a godsend; the trees helped him stay upright as he put one foot in front of the other.

Jack grinned when bright lights shone through the trees and shrubs ahead. The manor was close. Elsa was close. He regretted leaving the day after the funeral-turned-battle-royale, but Ted needed to go home, and his other side had killed nearly everyone in the trophy room. The exceptions were Verussa, whom Ted had taken care of, and Elsa. Fierce, beautiful Elsa, the woman he dreamed of since that night but was too ashamed to approach. 

It had taken a wound inflicted by a supposed demon to make Jack seek out the Bloodstone heiress. After slaying the pale, four-foot-tall, spindly-armed humanoid that was stronger and faster than it appeared, he’d made his way through the abandoned industrial area it had called home. The slash its claws had made through his coat into flesh wasn’t healing. His gut said he was in trouble, so he’d tightly wrapped the wound and called Nina. He needed to get to Elsa, he told her.

After declaring Jack an idiot for wanting to go to Hunter Central, Nina had said to get to his car and sit tight. She couldn’t help directly from her flat in Bolivia, but she’d call in some favors.

Leaning against a white birch, Jack peered ahead. Across 100 feet of manicured lawn was the imposing facade of Bloodstone Manor. 

Mustering his remaining strength, Jack stood up straight and started toward Elsa. Leaves and patches of snow crunched underfoot as he continued through the woods.

Where are you going? Ted asked.

Jack swiped away sweat stinging his eyes as he trudged onward. “Elsa.” 

The manor’s north! You’re going the wrong way!

Jack shook his head. The resulting wave of pain made him cry out. 

A gunshot made his ears ring. The shock of it brought him to his knees.

“This is private property!” a woman shouted a short distance ahead.

“Elsa!” Jack laughed. “Why are you in the woods?” Then he frowned; he wasn’t sure if he’d said that in English or Spanish.

He was about to repeat the question in English when leaves rustled and twigs snapped as a lithe form moved closer. Elsa’s familiar scent carried on the light breeze. “Who…” she called. “Jack?”

“Yes!” he said, struggling to stand upright with the help of another tree. “I’d have called but—”

Elsa, dressed in practical outdoor clothing with a hunting rifle in one hand, rushed up to him, radiant and full of life. Even with her gaping at him, she seemed lighter than when he’d last seen her. Which made sense considering his other side was about to tear her apart then, but—

“How did you get here?!” Elsa demanded.

Jack interrupted his smiling with a reply. “Pinche vampira.”

She blinked at him, then looked around with alarm.

“She left,” Jack assured her. “BMW. I’m to give Nina her regards if I survive.” His last few words had come out slurred, and the night was getting darker.

“Survive what?!”

Jack fumbled for the nearest tree for support, but found Elsa instead. He smiled, happy to lean into her with her scent all around as dizziness returned. “Dover Demon,” Jack said as Elsa shifted to get his left arm over her shoulders. He moved his wounded arm forward. Blood had soaked through his makeshift bandage and darkened the lower half of his coat’s sleeve. “Not silver,” he murmured as his eyelids grew heavy.

“Oh no no no no,” Elsa said, dragging him forward. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, Jack… What is your full name?”

“Me llamo Jack Russell.”

They stopped short, which made Jack’s head swim. “You’re having me on.”

“¡Es verdad!” Jack said as he got his feet under him. “Wasn’t about to change my name because of a new dog breed.”

Elsa looked at him askance. Jack picked one of the three of her he saw and gave her his best smile.

“Right,” she said, all business again. “Walk with me, Russell. We’re—”

“Jack,” he corrected.

Elsa sighed. “Fine, Jack. Let’s get you inside so you survive.”

Jack’s heart melted a little. That was one of the nicest things he’d heard in decades.

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

To be clear(ish), Ted may or may not have been communicating with Jack psychically. I left it ambiguous. Jack's sick as a dog (pun intended) so he might be hallucinating.

#werewolf by night #werewolf by night fanfiction #fan fiction #whump #jack russell whump #elsa bloodstone

[tsams-confessions]

I know confessing on the internet is somewhat a bad(?) thing, but I felt the need to say this; TSAMS Eclipse is a comfort character to me.

Obviously I do not find comfort in his past actions nor would I ever condone them; he needs to be held accountable for them, but I do find comfort in his trauma; the abandonment he suffered, the trust issues, the constant assurance he tells himself now crumbling from his very hands as everything spirals out of his own control, how he doesn’t want to be pitied or viewed weak due to feeling powerless (otherwise he could’ve been his very own hero, saving himself from the traumatizing situation) when he was left inside Sun’s head causing him to reject any help from anyone because he saw it as something weak (which is why he possibly has no idea HOW to ask for help), lashing out because he has no idea how to properly ground himself during these episodes (I feel like he doesn’t even know what kind of emotion he feels sometimes, it becomes too much for him maybe), the fact that he was abandoned during his awakening(?) and during his final moments as himself (I do understand why Solar left him, he wanted to move on while Eclipse didn’t, I believe it wouldn’t be fair for Solar flare of he stayed).

All of these are some of the main things why I find him comforting to me, as I’ve felt a lot of what he was feeling at a young age; the confusion, anger, loosing a sense of self, holding onto a false hope that’s slowly crumbling from in between your fingers and breaking even more because of how hard your holding them hoping it’ll stay when in the end it was all just fear of feeling lost in a world where people have purpose and dreams.

It’s all so scary and terrifying, and Eclipse being in these situations just reminds of more of some parts of myself and younger self; which maybe the reason why I have a liking to him.

I don’t know how the show will go with Eclipse, but if it does go with his redemption theme I will gladly support him in that hard journey. Changing something is especially hard when that very thing you have to change in order for a step in the right direction was all you knew; it would feel like leaving yourself behind and that can be scary, not knowing what’s ahead after you do. Would you gain or loose more? It’s kind of like Russian roulette in a sense. It’ll be a hard, painful and agonizingly long way to go for Eclipse; he’ll get angry and upset, get overwhelmed, depressed, lost, terrified even, he probably would backtrack sometimes.

But even if he does, I would be proud of him nonetheless for even attempting to change in the first place because of how courageous it is, at least to me. Changing can be a scary and terrifying experience and it’ll need a lot of bravery and courage to even make the first step.

Of course, he would absolutely need to apologize to everyone he’s ever hurt and understand that some of them won’t forgive him; maybe in the future they will, but some won’t forgive him ever, and he has to accept that as it is. Even if it may frustrate him, he has to accept it.

I’ve created so many AU’s about Eclipse and it’s very, very self indulgent. It brings me comfort and peace, joy even. I get to be somewhat a hero to the very person I see apart of myself to, someone that desperately needed it and I couldn’t be happier giving that help. Bonus that I get to be friends with him??? See him heal??? Accept the change and be brave??? SEE HIM LAUGHING AT JOKES MAYBE??? BEING HAPPY??? CONTENT EVEN??? YES

I just had the urge to say it, and I deathly apologize for any misspellings; most of the information here Is how I view Eclipse as a character and his behaviors.

-anonymous 雫

Ps- I love Eclipse, he needs a friend and perhaps someone to love (which I will certainly and gladly slide myself gently into his dms for /silly)

.

#the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams confession #< block this if you dont want to see these #mod 4bones

[oraclekleo]

33rd Birthday!

Hello my dear followers and random visitors of my blog.

I have already made a sorry announcement due to my hiatus but that’s not all I wanted to tell you.

This Monday, April 15th 2024 to be precise, is my Birthday. I’m already 33 years old! Would you believe that? I certainly wouldn’t. I feel like 16. 😂 

And how pretty the number is, right? Two threes… My life path number is also 3. How neat is that, huh?

When it comes to angel number 33, this source says the following:

“The 33 angel number means anything is possible. This powerful angel number is also known as a master number because of its double digits mirroring each other and its powerful vibrations. The number 33 is linked to themes around creative thinking, deep compassion, spiritual-level connections, discipline, and bravery. When you see this number show up it could be because it's an opportune time for a change or because patience is paramount right now in your daily life because a spiritual meaning that will have major significance is soon to be revealed.”

Nothing can be more true for me as major change is about to happen for me. I don’t want to reveal what it is just now but I will keep you informed in time. 😜

And no, I’m not dating anyone 🤣 Still happily Sexy, free and single.

I did want to celebrate my birthday with you with some sort of event but as you know I was really busy so… I guess we will celebrate my 44th Birthday properly? LOL!

Honestly, I have a lot to be grateful for in my life, you guys in my little community included. I hope we can stay together for many years that come and have some more fun with both serious and kinky tarot readings.

And those might soon become even better articulate and with much more expressive vocabulary as your girl Kleo is currently fully immersed in listening to audio erotica, which is really good! I mean… not all of it but I have already found several favourite voice actors, their voice and style really suiting me and apart from having a good time listening to it while working (yes, I do listen to audio porn while at work, sue me if you want), I also learn a lot from it. You know I can just soak information like a sponge from anything I do and well… This is a really good source. Also, I’m considering holding a voice chat once in a while with my friends now as I really want to learn to use my voice as well as I use my fingers for typing. And yes, I tested with my bestie and I nearly choked when I had to pronounce word ‘f*ck’ out loud. You wouldn’t guess it by reading my posts but I’m really talking like a lady out loud. I rarely curse or say rude words. 🤭 

I also learned about very surprising preferences through this audio erotica experience. I swear I didn’t expect to love what I love so much. It came as a shock and I truly thought my preferences to be completely different from what I actually enjoy the most. I guess there’s still a lot to learn about myself. Another great thing about my new hobby. You know how much I love to learn anything.

Anyway! That’s about my new hobby and about my approaching birthday.

Feel free to contact me through inbox or through DM or join my Discord. I don’t bite… unless you ask me to 😏 I’m also learning how to flirt better. You can be my test subject anytime. 😀 And no, it’s not to go hunt men, I’m way too old to change my ways and routines to fit another person’s lifestyle. My goal is actually much purer. I really like to make people happy and… well, I noticed people will feel happy, flattered and their self-esteem boosted when I flirt with them a little bit. Just another skill I’m learning in order to spread happiness and joy in the world. Might seem frivolous to you but… Well… I enjoy it. And that’s what counts for me.

So yeah! Happy Birthday to me! I’m not growing old, I’m only one year closer to death as my sister tells me every year since I was like 17. 😂 We are a weird family. Try not to think about it too much.

Thank you everyone who’s sticking around here. I promise I will post something soon. Maybe nothing super big but I will post. 🙂

Your forever joyful Oracle Kleo 🦄

#oracle kleo #happy bithday to me

[justalittleobsessedhere]

Charlie is Best When He Trusts His Gut

I’m rewatching heartstopper (again) with a focus on Charlie. I love this kid for the confidence with which he approaches his relationship with Nick. His gut reaction is almost always right and he starts to back away when he lets himself or his friends talk him out of what he has personally experienced with Nick. The update from the graphic novel to the screen really takes time to explore this.

There is something between Nick and Charlie by the end of the first episode, and Charlie — not Nick like in the novel— initiates the what turns into their extensive DM exchanges. And he does it with flair with a subtle X after his thank you. Also, in the novel, Nick was the first to send a heart, but in the show, Charlie reads the conversation right and sends it first — at the end of their first DM exchange.

The biggest moment for me is when Charlie has the confidence to ask Nick if he’d ever kiss him. At this point, Charlie has been hit with a barrage of outsider opinions (mostly unrequested) that Nick is unquestionably straight and he is wasting his time crushing on him. Elle, Tao, Isaac, the rugby team — all of them insist Nick is a hetero teenage boy with current crushes on girls. When Charlie tries to share his personal observations that could speak to the contrary, he is told he is wrong. There is literally an intervention to talk him out of his crush.

Despite all this noise, Charlie takes in everything he knows and sees from Nick. He has a sneaking suspicion there might something between them. He’s trusting the increasingly intimate physical contact, the uptick in time spent together, the lingering looks between them — all clear signs to even a casual observer. Yet, people with no personal engagement with these experiences are not giving the person in this situation the respect to trust his own judgment.

Still, for a person who has shown a regular tendency (even in a two-minute span) to talk himself out of a thought, when the opportunity presents itself, Charlie goes for it. How much bravery it takes to turn off the outside voices telling you that you are wrong. Charlie had to react to everything Nick was telling him as it was happening. With no time to process and overthink, he goes for not just one, but two kisses, encouraged by Nick grasping his hand after the first.

The shift in the show from making Charlie popular to “practically an outcast” further bolsters Charlie’s self-doubt and distrust in his gut reaction. We see this at other times (suggesting they go on a date by themselves, asking if they’re boyfriends, inviting Nick over to his house without a specific reason, inviting him to his birthday), and Charlie manages to backtrack before anyone has had a chance to say a word. But he was right. Nick was into each of these ideas.

The value of a relationship with someone you trust is you learn to listen to your own judgment no matter how loud the voices around you are screaming.

He really likes you, Charlie!

#heartstopper #nick nelson #nick and charlie #charlie spring #heartstopper tv #heartstopper gifs #heartstopper meta #meta

[summitclan-chronicles]

Applications are Closed!

Holy cow, we finally made it - and what a grand venture this has been! So many new faces, so many new friends, so many questions and answers! I've learned so much about the people that have come here, even before anyone hops onboard the server!

I'm so thankful for the kindness, grace, curiosity, interest and patience you have all granted me. I have wanted to make this roleplay since I was very much a child too young to be on the internet, and to see that it might actually be something - even significant, at that? - it blows my mind without hesitation.

And just the same, I am thankful for everyone that faced the bravery of coming off anon and talking to me in asks and replies! I'm so glad to have some familiar faces in my feed so early - and I'm sure others have come to recognize and respect you too!

Now, with the soft gushy stuff over, I have 3 gifts to present to you!

i. Application Replies!

Some were multiple choice, so I gathered those together to put in review:

The arcs question made me & fiancee smile, because it stayed pretty consistent, with the most people having read TPB and the fewest having read ASC. On the contrary, I was not expecting so many people to have been rping in the kitty scene for over 10 years! I was also surprised at how many inexperienced people we got - and how filled out the middle was! I'm entertained by the near perfect split on wanting staff roles, & how few people chose Leader on the rank question.

Most importantly, I want to point out the question regarding being placed on a list for future loners and kittens. 98.4% is roughly 59 people, dude! We're going to have a robust list of people waiting for such openings, so I won't have to worry about inadequate responses just yet - much to my relief!

ii. A sneak-peak at our server setup!

I won't be giving out any more than this!

III. A Summitclan Playlist!

To get ourselves in the Summitclan spirit, I put together a little playlist! I'll be making a much longer one at a later date - but this works great for writing up a post or brainstorming characters!

The songs are ordered to flow nicely into one another, but they sound great shuffled too!

In conclusion...

🎄🕎🕯🕊 HAPPY HOLIDAYS🌹🌽✡️🎁

Get on your best jammies, snuggle up into something warm and put on your favorite music... spend time with the people you love & the things you love to do. Remember all this past year has brought to you, and know the good you've put into the world will return twicefold to you. Be it snowing, sleeting, raining or sunny where you are - be it arctic or balmy - you are here, alive and loved very deeply. You are someone to be celebrated, and you make people proud each and every day to be your friend.

Admin Jingo may be a bit absent due to family shenanigans, but feel free to send asks or reply to posts!

I love you all very much! As a reminder before I go...

Make sure your main Discord is accepting Friend Requests and DMs by December 29th (Friday).

If you get a friend request from someone named "Jingo-tastic", that's me!

Once the link has been sent to you, you'll have 1 week to heed it. If 3 days pass without a reply, I'll send a bump msg to your secondary!

You will be given access to the Summitclan Lore on January 1st, 2024 at midnight EST.

Roleplaying begins on January 8th.

Character creation/editing ends on January 15th.

Now that the grand opening has closed, the only way to join SCC is by way of newborn kittens or loners coming in from outside.

And one more time:

Thank you! ☃️

#scc #post #yay!

[bisexual-queenie]

I want a fanfic of an Alternate Universe where for whatever reason George Joestar I and Will Zeppeli meet when they are younger and become the original Joestar and Zeppeli duo.

I’m thinking that Zeppeli, aged 19 here, is still learning the art of Hamon from Tonpetty, but for whatever reason he is sent to England to do some “soul searching” and ends up meeting George at like some sort of archeological dig site with his father or something. Zeppeli makes up an excuse for why he is there, which could be something like “Oh Im just visiting from Italy, and I got a bit lost, can you help?” and George’s dad is like “of course my boy! Come to our mansion”.

George and Will start to get closer, and Will opens up a little about staying with Tonpetty and learning Hamon. George, ever so the curious boy, wants to learn more and more about this strange boy and this super cool power of his, so he asks Will to teach him. Will then proceeds to have an existential crisis of wether he should go behind Tonpetty’s back to teach this kid a sacred art and wether he’d be good enough to do so. At this point, Will has JUST lost his father to the stone mask and has just been taken under Tonpetty’s wing as a rookie Hamon user. Feeling overwhelmed, Will runs of into a random part of the mansion.

George runs after him, already coming up with a multitude of apologies for scaring him. When he catches up with him, he sees one of the butlers scolding Will for accidentally bumping into him while running. Theres some xenophobic rhetoric flying towards him, as Will is still very much Italian, and immigrants from all over were not treated fairly by many at this time in history. Hearing all the outrageous things being said, George stands up for Will, ultimately telling the butler to never speak to anyone like that ever again, or he might suffer dire consequences.

Will, seeing this act if kindness and bravery from this boy, thanks him profusely, and as a thank you gift, tells him that he can try to teach George Hamon.

The next day, the two are in the grassy fields near the lake, where Will is preparing to test if George has got what it takes. Will is nervous. What if he doesn’t have the skill? What if everything is for naught? With a hesitant breath, Will hits George in the diaphragm.

—————————————————————————

Thats all I have right now! Sorry if the characters are OOC, or if this entire thing doesn’t make sense. This is just a silly idea I had while hyper fixating on Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. The age of Will when he looses his dad is probably different than in canon, but Im pretty sure he was a young adult.

To anyone who reads this and actually finds it interesting, feel free to say something in the comments or tags, or even dm me!

#jojos bizarre adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #jjba #george joestar i #will a zeppeli #william zeppeli #phantom blood #jjba part 1

[ellearts]

Hello everyone! This post is gonna be about. Honestly Idk? A thank you post? And end of the year post? I wasn't prepared, even tho I planned it all year in my mind to write this.

I've been here on tumblr, f1blr, for about two years now, and this year was the one, where I felt included, appreciated, and loved. I was just drawing my mind away posting my silly ideas and i never thought that at the end of this year I would end up with so many friends,moots, and experiences. And I honestly could all thank this to theo, @fistful-o-dollars who had the bravery to write to me in dms, and our friendship has hit off from then. I'm eternally greatful to him forever. He created stonersports(aka the best gc ever), with all of his mutuals, who became all of mine aswell. My friends, my family overall. I shared great great memories with them the whole year. @userblaney @formula-red @lightningmcqueenstan i love you all. Truly. And I'm very glad i got to meet yall. I never ever felt more included, understood and loved ever then there. I wish to continue it next year aswell

Then I met wonderful @osaka-lilac , who is like my twin, my bestie, @nickcassldy @pink-car , @viihuy @grumpiest-dood all very close to me, and speak everyday in Allies group chat(the second best gc everrr.)I love you all. I hope it will stay up next year aswell,yall bangers.

@urmuminnitt , who I became very close to nowadays, who I speak to everyday,I'm eternally grateful, she owns my heart my soul. I love you very much. I could wax poet how much I love you 💗(I probs will lol, sorry)

And all my other mutuals i speak thru here, who i love all very dearly, I'm very glad I I you this year. Its awesome to got to know all of you.

Yall made my year the best. And I'm very grateful for that! 💖  thank you, and I wish yall the best 2024 ever!!

Happy New Year, and thank you 🎉❤

#i queued this #for my new years eve #hoperfully #?? #we will see #anyways #happy new years #i love you all #❤

[jackblackhotelmirror]

vent + update

Sorry to vent on main but things have been crazy recently. My partner's dad was diagnosed with late-stage leukemia and it's been really, really hard on the three of us. He's like a second dad to me and on top of his diagnosis (plus rapidly deteriorating health), my boyfriend has shut down completely. I'm also transferring schools while dealing with finals, and I'm moving to my own place in a month. I've been in really bad physical health from sickness plus stress, and everything is hard.

I just feel like everything is moving so quickly and I can't catch up with it all. I'm not ready for things to change. I hate that my boyfriend physically can't talk to me because he's depressed, and there's nothing I can do to help besides support him. I'm so nervous to switch to a (much) bigger university and leaving my good friends here behind. I'm scared of going to a school that's 2.5 hours away in a place that's totally new to me. I'm scared of having to move home in two weeks, take a trip to California, come home, repack all of my stuff, and move away. There's so much happening in such little time.

On top of that, I'm trying to go spend a few weeks with my boyfriend (long-distance) in late July and it'll take a LOT of planning, courage, and money. I miss him so much.

I haven't really been dealing with how bad everything has been recently... I've kept so busy that I'm run-down and tired. I haven't been taking care of myself. I don't even want to talk to people anymore. I have dozens upon dozens of messages and dms I haven't responded to, and I don't really have a lot to give my friends these days. I'm quick to anger and irritability. I know all of this has to happen because I'm miserable with my life as it currently stands, but it's going to take a lot of bravery.

I don't really know why I said all of this. I just needed to get it out there. My heart is broken typing all of this out right now... I didn't realize how much is going on. No wonder I've been feeling like shit recently. Anyways, if you made it this far, thanks for reading <3

#personal #update i guess to explain why i haven't been active/answering your messages #so much happening in such little time #at least it'll be over in a few months... hopefully

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Friends to Lovers: Two characters have been friends for years and value their friendship above everything. Unfortunately, they’ve both also secretly fallen in love with each other - but are both too scared to confess because it feels like a betrayal of their friendship.

Remember, I'm utilizing this prompt list. I probably won't hit all, but I am trying to get to the highest voted ones in my polls. Trying to use different ships, but feel free to shoot me an ask or DM if there's a specific ship you would like to see for any of the prompts.

Betrayal to Our Friendship

Ship: Haddotin

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1610

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Without a doubt, the worst mistake of Tintin’s life. He wasn’t even quite sure how it happened. After all, Captain Haddock had been nothing more than a friend. Certainly Tintin had noticed his admirable bravery, his charming whimsicality, even his breath-catching kindness. However, he had thought it was…professional. Or if it was personal, not anything that would affect him to this degree. 

However, their trip to Tibet had thrown everything on its head, and a fact that Tintin hadn’t given much thought to at the time, was finally able to worm its way into his mind. He was in love with Haddock. It was the only explanation for the way his heart had shattered when he thought Haddock was going to cut his line, only to turn around and soar when he actually came back after Tintin tried to push him away. After all, he had possessed a single-minded determination to find his dear friend, Chang, but it hadn’t destroyed him like the thought of Haddock being lost to him had. The warmth he had felt reuniting with Chang again had been a different kind of warmth than when he was with the captain. Like the very air was charged with an invisible pull that always kept him close. Like magnets, like gravity, it was a law of attraction that Tintin had somehow managed to ignore…until now.

Tintin groaned, flipping himself over in bed as he tried to bury his head deeper under his pillow. He supposed to some, this would be an enlightening discovery. The chance to pursue something new and exciting, but he couldn’t. Not with Haddock. There was absolutely no way the older man saw him the same way. The gap between their ages certainly wasn’t off putting to Tintin, he couldn’t say the same for Haddock. His friendly touches probably meant to be more…of a mentor than Tintin clearly interpreted them. No, confessing would only ruin perhaps the best thing in Tintin’s life. He couldn’t let Haddock know how he felt.

Snowy clearly had enough of Tintin’s pity party, choosing to pounce on his chest, licking at his neck as he attempted to dig Tintin out from beneath the pillow.

“Alright, Snowy. Okay.” Tintin laughed, rolling over onto his back as he reached up to scratch the pup’s ears. “We should do something fun today. Maybe go to our favorite park? What do you think, boy?”

Snowy yipped his approval of the choice before hopping down and running to the door, pawing at it and whining. Tintin shook his head. 

“Let me get dressed at least first.”

***

Tintin enjoyed being outside. It was cleansing to him, having the sun warm his skin as he passed through various shades of green. It was part of the reason why he had never been able to accept a desk job. How could he possibly think when there was a world just beyond those doors beckoning him to explore? It was actually pure chance when he managed to land his dream job. 

He had just graduated from university and wanted to take a couple of weeks to enjoy living before he was forced to go out job hunting. He happened upon a human trafficking operation, got himself out of a bind, and wrote a story over it that he tried to sell to the local paper. He does a lot of that now. Selling stories to any paper willing to publish him, which now that he’s made a name for himself is quite a bit. However, at that time, the paper he was trying to sell the story to wanted their own people to write it up, not an amatuer. Instead, he sent it back home to his local paper who were overjoyed to publish such a piece! Since then, Le Vingtième Siècle is always his first call for giving him his first big break.

Snowy, who had his nose to the ground, suddenly perked up before he gave happy yips racing towards whatever had caught his interest. Tintin took off after him, about to shout for him to come back when he heard another voice beat him to it.

“Snowy! Calm down, you excitable pup! Where’s your master?”

Tintin froze, coming around the corner and confirming that it was in fact Captain Haddock. His throat felt tight as his earlier realization seemed to blare to the forefront of his thoughts. Which was ridiculous. Nothing had to change. If Tintin didn’t let his initial attraction to Haddock stand in the way of their friendship, there should be no reason for this to be any different. Still, his movements felt robotic and smile felt forced as he pushed himself forward to greet the man.

“Captain! What are you doing here?”

It was almost like watching Tintin’s own emotions in reverse as the easy smile fell, and Haddock froze at Tintin’s approach. Tintin stopped, acknowledging the distance between them and wondering what exactly could be going through the older man’s mind. 

“There ya are, Tintin. I’ve been looking for you. I think there’s something we need to talk about.”

Thorin took in Haddock’s guarded stance, his hands fisted in his pockets, and his refusal to meet Tintin’s eyes. Ice traveled straight down the nerve in his back making Tintin feel more like a livewire. How…how did he know already? What did Tintin do to betray himself? Numbly, he nodded before moving towards the nearby park bench taking a seat on the very edge. Haddock followed the movement, making sure to leave considerable space between the two. Tintin felt something inside him hiccup as his brain raced to find a way to salvage their friendship.

Snowy let his eyes drift between the two with a peculiar look before deciding his time would be better spent chasing one of the squirrels up a tree. Silence sat thick over the duo, each lost to their own thoughts. Just when Tintin had worked out an amenable solution, Haddock began, his words nearly tearing Tintin in two.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to continue joining you on your adventures.”

Tintin breathed past the invisible fingers gripping his vocal cords as he answered as calmly as he could.

“That’s fine, Captain. I’d never want to force you to join me.”

“It’s not that.” Haddock snapped, reaching for his pipe but not yet lighting it. “I came to realize something. Something that had changed after…our last adventure.”

Tintin’s eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to have to sit through the captain’s rejection. It was his fault for letting his emotions get the better of him. He knew Haddock would never want someone so much younger than him. Although, there was a bitterness in Tintin that wanted to remind the good captain that he at least acted more adult than most, present company included.

“This isn’t easy to say, because I do value our friendship. But I feel like not saying anything would be more of a betrayal, and I can’t do that to you.”

Here it comes. Tintin braced himself for the blow that would surely cut deeper than any injury he’s had before.

“I’m in love with you, Auggie.”

Wait…what? The roaring in his ears, the build-up in his chest, it all just…disappeared to be replaced with something lighter that swooped right through his belly.

“What did you say?” Tintin gasped.

Haddock turned to look at him, his bright eyes hard and resigned.

“I love you.”

It was something more glorious to hear a second time. Haddock broke contact though, shaking his head.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t want to be saddled with an old sea dog like myself. I just thought you deserved to know which is why I should stay away for a little while. Give you some space. I’ll miss your company of course, but you deserve to live the life you want without being bogged down by…”

“Archie.” Tintin demanded, interrupting the captain’s self-deprecating rant.

The older man slowly turned to him, fear haunting his every movement right before Tintin leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, more of a gentle press of lips, but it was enough for Tintin as he categorized the captain’s chapped lips, the tickle of his mustache and beard, and the lingering scent of pipe tobacco even though Haddock hadn’t actually smoked in front of him. When he pulled away, he couldn’t help startling at the tears that welled in Haddock’s eyes but had yet to fall.

“Tintin, you don’t have to…”

In a panic, Tintin realized Haddock thought he was humoring him. He quickly grabbed his hand while shaking his hand.

“No! Archie, I…I feel the same. I thought…I thought you were saying this because you learned of my…regard. Please…please, don’t leave.”

Tintin squeezed his eyes shut, hoping his faltering words were enough to convince Haddock. He wasn’t good with expressing his emotions, but he hoped Haddock knew him well enough to understand this. After what felt like a long moment, Haddock slipped his hand to cup Tintin behind the neck, forcing his head forward until it gently bumped against Haddock’s own. 

“I won’t. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Tintin smiled brightly wishing he had something he could say that would convey the same sentiment. Instead he put his hands around Haddock’s neck, trying to bring the man closer. A relieved chuckle in his ear let him know his efforts were received and appreciated. 

#tropetember #the adventures of tintin #haddotin #friends to lovers #BIG THANKS TO DIM FOR THEIR WONDERFUL NAME HC!

[thewhumperinwhite]

WKW: The Healer's Shame

Story Masterpost Here // Continued directly from here

@whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi also please dm me if you wanna be on the taglist, since i take so long between updates idk who's still active

TW for: broken bones (incl. ribs and spine) (and its gross); punctured lung and difficulty breathing; guilt and self-hatred; past parental abuse; implied/mentioned alcoholism; pretty sure Thorne is having a full panic attack at the end there also.

----

Feira has been the Healer at Colomur Castle for nearly 30 winters now, not including the two years she spent under the apprenticeship of her predecessor, back when she had lived through barely twenty winters and still considered the position one of great honor. She was here when Audoine became the Lion, after his third or fourth great victory on the battlefield; she mixed the ointment the old man rubbed into his battle-scars until the very week of his death. She put the old man’s shoulder back in its place when the third boar he insisted on tilting with nearly tore it from its socket; she kept the old man’s limp at bay for nearly ten years before she finally told him to swallow his pride and walk with a cane. And, of course, she delivered the old man’s children, both; placed two healthy babes into the Queen’s arms and sent a servant each time to congratulate the King on the birth of a son.

And when they brought one of those sons to her, brave and beautiful and barely fifteen, after his father had rent the flesh of his back to the bone, after the Lady had tangled her aura up with his and moved his body and spoken with his mouth, after he was no longer dead but lay on her table as still as a corpse and nearly as cold from all the blood he had spilled on the dirt of the castle courtyard, Feira—stayed. She did not hand in her Patronage and look for other work. She let the guards bring in the body of the babe she had delivered, and she bound it back together with cloth and tree sap and the scant bit of magic her predecessor’s Patron allowed her. In the same mortar where she mixed soothing ointments for an old warlord’s aches and pains, she mixed new ones that might allow his son to lift his arms without tearing his slowly-scarring back wide open again, someday. And when he could walk again, she let him—let him walk back into the halls of the man who had killed him; let him eat across the table from his murderer; let him kneel at his killer’s feet and swear fealty again as the Lady’s bearer.

There was a time—this was after Audoine broke the prince’s wrist when he was ten but before he knocked out half the prince’s hearing with a thrown stone paperweight—when Feira successfully convinced herself that she was—mitigating harm. That there might still be kindness in remaining; that she might hold the princes together better than whoever they would get to replace her if she left. She may even—this is embarrassing to think of, now—have believed for a few years that perhaps if she healed a cracked rib or a bruised collarbone well enough, the Lion of Colomur might not break it a second time.

Feira is too old to believe any of that now, of course. She knows herself too well. She knows that she possesses just the wrong amount of kindness, and of bravery, and of honor. Too much to ignore the princes’ bruises; too little to stand before the King and demand that he no longer beat his sons; too little to storm out of her cushy little salon and declare that if all the rest of the staff wish to turn a blind eye they may find another Healer. Just enough to sit here, to watch the Summer Prince grow, survive his father, stand straighter and prouder and braver every summer, and end all her days in town drinking enough bad whiskey to fall asleep without worrying about what the Lion will do when he realizes that his son is outshining him.

As Fourshield House is falling, Feira holes herself up in her salon, glad she keeps an extra whiskey bottle under her desk. Perhaps, she thinks, the Lion will be victorious; certainly no one has succeeded in killing him thus far, and many better men have tried. If the White Crane triumphs, she thinks, he may well wish to employ a Healer. The devil Feira knows is bad enough; there is only so much worse the devil she has not yet met can be.

When they bring Prince Andry back to her, his lungs are filling up with blood, and he is dying.

----

When Thorne stumbles through the door of the Healer’s room, for the second time in as many days, the old woman is sitting at her desk, and snaps her head up to glare at him, looking tired and immediately disgusted.

Then she sees the stretcher he and Heron are carrying, and she leaps to her feet.

“What have you done?” she wails, in her own language; in Andry’s. She is not angry, this time. Her immediate, horrified grief is even worse.

“Well go on, put him down already,” Crow snaps from behind him, unnecessarily. Thorne is shuffling the stretcher through the doorway as fast as he can, nearly dragging Heron, who is watching the tortured arch of Andry’s back with too much interest to carry his weight. Crow steps into the Healer’s room after them and closes the door, primly.

Andry is still breathing. The sound is worse, now; there is a bubble at the end of every breath that is making Thorne taste vomit in the back of his throat. But Andry isn’t dead.

(“Thank you,” was what Andry said to him. After Thorne had left him alone with three guards, because he was too much of a child to think that might be a bad idea; but before he immediately left him alone again. Thorne—thought he had locked the door to his rooms, before he left Andry asleep in there. Like he was learning to think, and not to be so bloody stupid all the time. “Thank you,” Andry said, before Thorne left him alone again.)

(But he isn’t dead. He isn’t dead.)

“You’re a Magician, too, aren’t you?” Crow says to the Healer, as calm and arch as ever, as if he wasn’t speaking over the sound of Andry dragging air through his bruised and swollen throat and into his flooding and bubbly lungs. “Orders from the White Crane are to save him, if you can.”

They have set the stretcher on the Healer’s table. The Healer has been looking at Andry, her face white behind her thick spectacles; she snaps around to look at Crow, now, and for a second there is hatred in her face like Thorne has never seen; not on Raven, or the Lion, or on all the children who threw stones at him when he was small; like if she could tear Crow’s heart out with her hands she would do it. Then she sets her face—Thorne thinks she might literally bite her tongue, hard—and turns back to the table where Andry is dying.

“His back is broken,” Heron tells her cheerfully, “look here.” And he puts his hand on Andry’s hip, and pushes down. Andry’s hip rolls easily, with no resistance at all; something grinds audibly with a stomach-churning crunch.

The Healer drops the bandages she has been reaching for and slaps Heron so hard that he stumbles backward, his mask sliding back over his hair to reveal his wrinkled, plain, utterly gobsmacked face.

Crow laughs once, too loud. There is a long moment of silence; Thorne’s heart has dropped into his stomach, and Heron and the Healer are staring at each other in what seems to be mutual surprise and alarm.

Andry’s next breath turns into a violent gagging cough at the end, and that snaps the Healer out of it.

“Get them the fuck out of here, Dog,” she snarls at Thorne, in Craetan. Thorne’s heart stutters in his chest; the idea of even trying to tell Crow and Heron to do anything—

The Healer bends over Andry to put her ear against his breathbone; he makes a horrible sound, an awful choking wail.

Thorne has grabbed the back of Heron’s cloak before he even realizes he is moving. “We’ve got to go,” he says, and Heron is still startled enough to let himself be bundled out of the room. Crow follows, and he is laughing again.

When they are in the hallway, and the door has closed on the sound of Andry’s terrible gasping breaths, Thorne feels for a moment as though the floor is slipping away from under his feet, his knees weak with relief and horror. Crow and Heron are both looking at him curiously, and that is enough of an emergency for Thorne to blink his vision halfway clear again. He tells them a lie he won’t remember later, about where they are needed now instead of here. Heron’s face is unreadable behind his readjusted mask; Crow’s is visible and full of doubt, but they do leave him. Thank all gods.

When he has sunk to the floor beside the door to the Healer’s room, and is sitting there in silence with his hands over his face, the hallway is silent enough that Thorne can just barely hear the sounds from inside—Andry’s harsh breathing, sometimes punctuated by a thin whine or a sobbing cry or, once, a throat-scraping shriek that makes Thorne tremble down to his toes; and, under that, the Healer’s voice, repeating something over and over. It’s too low for Thorne to be sure, but he thinks it might be: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

#winter king's ward #the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #past abuse #guilt #angst #broken bones #broken spine #picture feira as like. mid-fifties lady; round glasses; fully gray ponytail #she and russ from cafe are forming a. cynical gay alcoholic doctors support group

[smolvenger]

Miss Narracott and The Captain, Part Four (Capt. James Nicholls x fem! Reader Miniseries)

Fandom: War Horse

Series Summary: It is 1912-1914. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Chapter Word Count: 7K (one of the bigger ones)

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five Coming Soon!

Chapter Warnings: Angst and Fluff. Reader being thirsty (can you blame her), but no smut. Jealousy. It's a light, Diet Slow Burn. I choose violence by selecting a cliffhanger for the ending. Attempts at historical accuracy and Cottagecore vibes.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Comments, Reblogs, DMs, and Asks about my work are always appreciated! Feel free to ask to be tagged in this and/or my other stuff! Thank you!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

@eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @12-pm-510

Autumn 1913

That Sunday, You and Albert went about on one of your typical Sunday walks. As usual, Joey trotted next to you. The long grass was turning brown. The sky was so bright, yet the air was very crisp. The trees were growing orange with the harvest.

“And how was sitting in that rowboat with Lyons?” he asked, recalling the church picnic yesterday.

“Dreadful. I thought I’d fall asleep from how he droned on!” you recalled.

Joey shook his head and let out a neigh. You patted his nose. Then reached up a hand to run through his mane.

“He agrees with you on that one!”

After a beat, Albert asked.

Y/N, have you ever ridden him?”

“Oh no! Not even tried! I don’t know if I can!” you cried.

“Come on, try it!” Albert suggested, handing over the reins.

“But Albie, I could get hurt! I’m not the type to gallop!” you objected.

“Oh, he won’t! He only gallops if you urge him on! Or some loud sound spooks him! Come on- have some fun, Y/N!” Albert argued.

Albert did it all the time. He made it look so easy. And you were curious. You never rode horses. No one taught you how. Usually, the horses on your farm were for plowing instead of riding.

"Just once, Y/N! Save your feet!" Albert suggested.

You wanted to feel less afraid of things. You heard of people dying when they fell off horses. You wanted to feel in control. You envied Albert's freedom in private to run around after farmwork. And his bravery in training and riding a galloping horse. You wanted to know what it was like...and there was only one way how.

Not that you hated Joey- oh no! By now, Joey was a member of the family. He had grown bigger than the colt your family's future depended on to a gorgeous stallion. He even had a special saddle, bridle, and reigns for him. The dear horse would even sometimes trot up to you as you left the house for work. He'd nuzzle against you and sometimes let you brush his mane. One time you and Albert put your gloves on Joey’s ears for fun. Then you both roared into laughter at how his twitching ears moved the gloves like eager hands on his head. And wasn't that why many people kept horses as pets? To ride them?

“Alright...I’ll ride him. Just show me how,” you said.

“Wonderful! He can sense if you’re nervous, so just calm yourself! I won’t make him go fast!” he promised.

Albert was big and strong for a boy of sixteen now. He put his hands around your waist and hoisted you up on the saddle. Joey only let out a small sound at the feeling of your weight on him. But the horse kept still and even moved his head to glance at Albert. You swung your legs to be on one side like you noticed ladies doing. You held onto the reigns tightly.

"You see how he stood still when you got on him? That's proof he likes you!” Albert informed.

"Lead him, Albie. He doesn't really listen to anyone else," you advised.

"Come on, Joey! Let's give Y/N a ride back home!" he ordered, clicking his tongue as he gestured to the horse.

Joey began to move on the path back home, and you gasped some. You were on a breathing, living thing that could throw you off!

Balance your weight, Y/N...and be sure to keep your heels down,” Albert taught you.

You shifted to make sure your body was even and secure. Your leg stretched as you pointed your heels down.

"Good boy, Joey! Gentle…gentle…" You urged as he walked forward.

You felt Joey’s body relax under you and you relaxed on Joey. With the slow pace, you did release one hand to briefly pet him. It wasn't too far from home. You both had walked down the usual path- you and Albert had been perhaps- at most- ten miles down. And the meters were flying by. You heard the clop-clop of his hooves beneath the ground.

You got used to the pace. It was a pleasant day. The sun was shining, and one could hear the birds whistling at each other. The grass only dipped with the gentle wind. Autumnal colors painted the few trees that formed lines across the green fields.

Although it was a hilly area, Joey was used to it. Any larger rocks were stepped over or avoided. The slope on the path was slight. Though you did eye the side of the hill nervously. If you fell, you'd be rolling all the way down the hill like a wheel barrel until you landed among the sheep in the valley. You placed a hand on Joey's skin to note his temperature. If he was getting hot, he'd be slow and it was dangerous to ride a hot horse, according to Albert. But he didn't feel bad. Probably the cool air that kept him happy.

"We can go a little faster," you suggested.

"Alright!" Albert complied.

He then walked a little faster and clicked his tongue. Joey picked up speed to prance. You found yourself smiling. The Narracott House and farm appeared in the distance. Albert then looked up at you.

"You think you can ride him back?" he asked, pointing to the farm.

"Yes, I think I'd like to try!" you answered, feeling braver.

Albert then picked up his pace to a light jog and clicked his tongue.

“Okay Joey-little faster, boy!” he said.

Joey’s prance became a light run. You let out a squeal at the speed.

"Y/N! Don't scare him! And tug the reigns when you want him to slow down! Or click your tongue!" he instructed, though he was jogging next to you and getting breathless.

You smiled, feeling the sun on your skin and the clean, fresh air. You felt buzzed with movement, nature, exercise, and life. Joey passed Albert to head home. Why- in fact- it was fun! It felt like flying! You could feel how Joey’s black mane would tickle you. The air in your face was like a kiss. Albert was laughing as he kept up behind you. You were not worried about anything for once. You could enjoy the feeling of air and of your weight not touching the ground but moving. Beneath you, everything was smaller and flying faster, quicker by you. You couldn't help but giggle at it despite yourself. And sooner, sooner the farm was in view.

"Let’s keep walking home, alright boy? Keep this up, and I'll give you a whole apple from the tree! All for you!" you promised.

Once you approached the farmland, you tightened the reigns. And then clicked your tongue too for good measure.

"Slower, Joey, slower!" you urged.

Joey did slow his gait down to a mere trot. You pulled the reigns to lead him to walk through the yard to the horse area in front of the stable.

"Good boy, Joey. You're the best boy out there!" you said.

Tugging on the reigns (as you saw Albert do) Joey stopped. You then petted him.

"You're far better than half the boys in Devon! And far more handsome too!" you whispered with a giggle.

Joey brushed his lips in response. Harold the Goose let out a honk as you made your way back into the circular field in front of the stables.

"There, Joey! What a good boy! Who's the best boy?" you cooed. "You deserve an apple and a carrot too for good measure, don't you! Yes, you do!"

You hopped off. You began petting him. Albert caught up behind you. You looked into Joey's eyes, wrapping your arms around his head. Cuddling him as you would a cat. You heard Albert exclaim.

"Why- sir! Hello sir!"

"Albie, I’m not a sir-"

The rest of that phrase was cut off as you turned to see Captain Nicholls in his coat with his sketchbook. You jumped.

"Captain Nicholls! We weren't expecting you!" you cried.

"It's alright! At least your mother had plenty of leftovers for lunch!" he replied.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“I only hoped to draw the horse and the other creatures on the farm! What, may I ask, are you doing on Joey?” Nicholls teased.

“I…I only just rode him for the first time!” you explained.

Albert strolled up with a grin.

“Did you see that sir?” he asked Nicholls.

“Indeed, I did! I saw her gallop in from inside the house as I was done eating!” he replied.

“And how did she do?” Albert asked.

The captain turned to you.

“You did excellent Miss Narracott! You’re a natural!” he praised.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir. You think I have a horsewoman in me?” you asked.

“If not already!” he quipped.

The picture of him and that girl at the Goose Fair snuck into your brain. You excused yourself and walked inside the house. Mum was already in the kitchen, watching the oven.

“Mum, tell me- where’s the feed? I want to make sure the animals have their lunch! Or the floors- they need a scrubbing,” you chatted. It was better to immediately distract yourself.

“There’s some dry laundry that needs folding!” she noted.

You ran out and got the dry laundry basket, bringing it to the table to fold.

She got a pan out of the oven. She set the hot, baked loaf on the windowsill, opening it up to cool. Mum then glanced out the window. James Nicholls could be seen out on the field with Joey already got his pencils and chair out and was starting to draw. Albert opened the door to the fence and then returned to talk with the guest.

“He sure does come around here, often, Captain Nicholls…” Mum commented.

“Yes…he does…” you agreed.

She turned around and sat down. Getting a fresh shirt from the basket and putting it on the table. But she paused. She glanced at you with a smile.

“Y/N, I will let you know…he has been perfectly nice to us and to your father. We…we do like him…” she prodded to you.

You set down the skirt you were working on.

“What are you implying?” you asked.

She glanced outside. Once it was clear that the men were far away, she leaned into you, placing a hand over yours.

“Y/N…if he’s showing up here often, I doubt it’s just for the animals…” she whispered with a smile.

You jerked back, shaking your head.

“It is for the animals. He’s seeing a girl!” you objected.

“How do you know?”

“Saw them together at the fair!”

Your mother blinked, her shoulders drooping.

“Oh…well then…there’s that…but don’t you think he was talking to her, nothing more?” she muttered.

Tears stung your eyes. False hope was not something you could afford. You grabbed the laundry basket with a grip.

“I’m going to do this in my room now…” you dismissed.

She put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You…you have feelings for him, don’t you?” she asked.

You paused.

“Yes…that’s why it hurts…” you confessed.

She squeezed your shoulder.

“I’m glad you told me, Y/N; we can deal with your broken heart together…”

The laundry basket was placed on the table. You reached over to hug her. Quiet tears poured out of you for only a minute.

Though the sound of hooves made you look up. Then you gasped and jumped.

Joey was leaning his head through the windowsill to try to sample the cooling bread. You got out a tablecloth, batting it at him as Mum burst into laughter and so would you. Yes, bit by bit, day by day, your feelings for James Nicholls would pass…

Winter 1914

January arrived- cold, bitter, gloomy January. Thank goodness for the snow. It turned everything white and crisp and beautiful. It was one of those snowy days that saw her again. The slender blonde all the way from the summer. You knew in your stomach that it was her. She walked in with another fashionable coat and hat that you had eyed in a high-end catalog.

“Good day, welcome to Mrs. Snow’s shop,” Mary greeted, professional as always.

“The same to you,” she replied.

She only half-nodded at you as you looked about. Alice then turned the corner. She spoke in her chirrupy voice.

“Can I help you, Miss…”

“Corbyn. Sarah Corbyn,” the blonde lady introduced herself.

“Miss Corbyn, what are you looking for?” asked Alice.

“I am looking for scarves. The ones from Mrs. Valerie makes.”

“Those scarves? Oh, we just sold our last one, I’m so sorry!” Alice lamented.

“Oh, well, that is too bad…I know things run out for you here,” Sarah said with a smile.

“We will inform you when they are in stock! Ask any time!” Alice encouraged.

“How good! Thank you!”

Sarah sauntered around. Looking through items with a smile on her face. She then turned to you with a smile. She held up a bar of soap.

“Could I please have this Miss…”

“Narracott.”

“I should like to buy this lavender one, please,” she said.

She handed you the money and bought the soap. Shop bag around her arm, She then wandered over and got a newspaper, returning to you.

“Miss Narracott…there is a dance in two weeks, correct? There is the advert for the town hall…”

She pointed at it, and you glanced at it.

“Yes, yes, it is…Two per month,” you confirmed.

“I must ask you a favor. I am quite nervous despite myself! As a fellow woman, may I confide in you?” she cajoled.

“Yes. At least before Mrs. Snow arrives,” you said.

“Do you happen to know a gentleman named Captain Nicholls?” she asked.

Your eyes never left hers. You placed your hands on the counter to keep steady.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” You answered.

“My father invited him and a few of his men on a walk through the country this past Autumn. I joined them. It was a rather long walk all over. I do enjoy jumping from high places. I got to a tall rock, jumped off like so and Captain Nicholls caught me! It was the most thrilling moment of my life! And he’s quite strong too! Fathers invited him to call sometimes for tea- but I hope it’s for more than that! Miss Narracott, I believe I have affection for him and him for me! I do hope he likes me!” she voiced.

The ears floated in your brain. Never landing. Never processing. The images stuck to you, and you wanted to wash them off. But politeness and the fact you were at work forbade you.

“Other than the catching, what makes you think that?” you asked.

“Well, last Friday, I told him how I never usually go to dances. He asked why. I said, among other things, I tend to prefer better things to do with my time and I never have partners. He promised me two dances! Two! That’s a sign if ever!” Sarah continued. Her smile never drooped.

“That’s very…very good. Good for you,” you replied.

You desperately wished there was new cloth to fold or items to restock this minute.

“Well, do you think my father would approve?” she whispered.

There was a glint in her eyes. A thin eyebrow of hers arched up.

“He has no reason not to,” you answered.

“Oh, how kind you are! How good of you!” she replied.

It did not sound like a genuine compliment. She reached into her bag and retrieved her purchase.

“And I do like this soap! I advise you to buy it yourself! It helps keep away smells- especially that of farms,” she added.

It hit you like a slap. You forced your jaw shut else it’d hinge off. She then said her goodbyes, placed her soap in her bag and flounced away. Gripping onto the counter, you turned away to try to collect yourself. The three others all grimaced at each other and began to gossip about her.

“And she seemed so nice!” Mary cried.

Ida went up to you.

“I heard that last sentence! The nerve of her! Don’t you listen to her, Y/N! If she sets foot in this shop again, I’ll slap her! Mrs. Snow would fire me, but it’d be worth it!” she encouraged, rubbing your arm.

You stayed quiet.

To think this was the girl James Nicholls liked!! Other than her beauty and money, what did he see in her? Could he end up married to someone like her? All this- finding you, singling you out. Rubbing everything into your face. Why was she doing this? Had Nicholls somehow mentioned the Narracott farm? Then no doubt she found out that you- a single woman-lived there. And she wanted to make sure you knew she had her claws on him.

You let out a sigh. It would feel good to complain about her to Mum and perhaps Albert too.

When you returned home, you ran upstairs. You stared at the rabbit drawing. It was still pinned up against the wall. You didn’t have the heart to tear it to ribbons or burn it. James was never yours, to begin with. So, you only settled for keeping it in the first drawer of your desk. It was too tender. It was too kind. You could always fold it up and look at it. It was a gift that showed kindness and appreciation. Even if not specifically to you, but to your family.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ──────��� · ·

That winter there was more ice than usual. It sleeted all over the ground. Poor Joey couldn’t break into one of his famous runs about the yard. He’d have to be careful or slip. A blizzard swept over for a week, keeping everyone inside and closing businesses. When it calmed down, men poured salt onto the ground. Everyone could walk around again like normal. Animal or human.

When the shop reopened, customers filed in, each one more demanding than the last. More than once you had to fetch Mrs. Snow to reason with them. Even your co-workers were all complaining.

“I don’t know if I can talk to another Mrs about hat pins now,” Ida groaned.

“I’d like to sit for a bit for once!” you sighed.

Everyone was quite grateful when the last customer left, and the hour struck for closing. Mrs. Snow turned the sign on the window to say “CLOSED”. You gathered your basket, and put on your hat, dark coat, and gloves. You managed to get yourself a new pair for winter. But you didn’t want to discard the single one- it was too pretty. You began to head out.

“Goodbye, Alice! Ida! Mary!”

They all wished goodbye to you.

But as you began to walk out, the wintry air bit you. You shivered with the snow falling down like sprinkles.

But after a few steps who should run into you but Captain Nicholls in his long coat walking about town. You did not notice any lady near him. He grinned and approached you. You fought the bitterness in your heart. You greeted him with a smile.

“Captain, it is good to see you. It’s been a while since you graced our farm!” you greeted.

“A certain storm provided quite the obstacle. May I walk with you, Miss Narracott?” he asked.

“Thank you… you may,” you permitted.

You kept walking on. His own long stride was slowed. Some leftover ice had stretched out to the roads. Motorcars and carts had to be slow. Not to mention people.

“You have lived here over a year, what do you make of it? Country life too quiet for your liking?” you asked.

“Oh no- it’s perfectly fine and comfortable to me!” he chatted.

“And the people?”

“Oh, everyone has been splendid! Quite splendid! All the men agree!”

You didn’t want to mention the women. Lips shut, you would not play the game of manipulation and false sweetness Sarah did.

“And how have they been?” you asked.

“Good and jolly. Not that the storm stopped training or patrolling.”

As you turned over one corner you realized that the road was slipping beneath your feet. Looking down, you saw ice below your feet. You even let out a gasp and held out a hand to regain balance.

“Miss?” asked Nicholls.

“I’m quite alright!” you tried to assure him.

There was ice right before your path for several feet. And as you tried to take another step, you felt yourself wobble. If you didn’t solidify your footing, you would trip. Nicholls looked over and saw you were swaying with your arms still open. He walked slower and heavier, side by side in his gait.

“Here Miss Narracottt-allow me!” he proclaimed.

He held out his hand and took your hand. Gloves on gloves.

“Let me help you, how does that sound?” he asked.

You nodded.

How warm his hand felt. Even beneath the leather - the only thing keeping you from the contact of his bare skin against your bare skin. You felt the air in your lungs pause, only to rush out for want of air. You became nervous and excited at once- fearful and thrilled. He smiled gently at you as he held your hand. How handsome he looked- a shining star in the sky, an angel in a uniform. Letting all petty thoughts of jealousy melt away if only for a few minutes.

He guided you on the ice. He advised you how to walk slowly. Side to side with full weight on each foot. The way a duck waddles on land.

You curled your fingers over the base of his hand. You could tell he was strong like Miss Corbyn said. He seemed unbothered to lend the support you needed to keep from falling. And how gentle his hands were despite their size and strength. The leather was kept clean, and his touch did not squeeze you, but it was the right pressure. How safe he made you feel. You lingered, enjoying the touch until you made it to the not iced sidewalk. Then he let go of your hand. Your own remained in the air until you retreated it back.

“There- are you alright?” he asked.

You blinked, coming back to reality. Feeling a bit of air where you missed his touch. Even covered in gloves.

“I am,” you confirmed.

“Is there anything else you need, Miss Narracott?”

“Well, no. There’s nothing. I only ask for a safe passage back home.”

“Then, do you need me to walk you back there? Is it icy?”

“It’s not as bad…but it’s there…”

“Then let me walk you back. I wouldn’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

Through the white, thick snow, he walked you there. Only holding your hand again if it seemed the only path forward had ice on it. It made you wish that the men of the town poured less salt about the ground.

Spring 1914

Finally, Spring arrived with pomp and splendor. With the turnips and crops blooming, you could use your wages to have a ticket for a dance and a new dress to go with it. But Dad insisted Albert accompany you there and dance too. Your brother grumbled when he heard.

“You’ll never meet any girls if you stay cooped up with Joey!” you teased your brother.

“Neither will you meet any fellows!” he retorted as you both cleaned up the dishes.

He looked around. Mum and Dad were relaxing by the fireplace. Then leaned in.

“But…will Lyons be at the party?” he whispered.

“I don’t know…don’t think so. Said he hates dancing. He told me he likes to spend evenings checking his accounts with brandy.”

The evening of the dance, you checked your mirror to make sure your hair looked nice. When it met your approval, you looked at the new dress on you. In its pink with shortened sleeves, it was the nicest one you could afford to splurge on. The color’s shade looked flattering on you. Just like the ones in your garden. You wanted to forget work, the family’s rent, Miss Corbyn and Nicholls, Lyons's interest in you…and there were plenty of men in town. You only wanted to have a good time while you still could. As it matched the season, you wanted to be like a flower. To enjoy being in “bloom” when you still had it within you.

Entering the dance hall, all was happy and astir. Though this time paid for and hosted by the local militia. It seemed every young person in Devon had arrived there. No Mr. Lyons but his son, David, was gulping down glasses of punch. It was a large place with the walls painted light green. There was an open space with chairs shoved to the side for the dancing. There were two long tables filled with refreshments and drinks. It was brightly lit with the new electricity running through the place. The crowd flocked inside, and many among them were the green-uniformed soldiers.

It felt warm already. You heard the cacophony of a thousand conversations appearing at once. Many held plates and ate standing or sat in a chair. Flowers, fresh with the season's arrival, decorated each corner. A string quartet and piano, played by locals, were getting their music books in order, and warming up. You didn't know which would intoxicate the partygoers faster. The wine and champagne, the music, the dancing, the thrill, or the flowers.

Then the host went forward and said that the first dance was about to begin. Men selected their partners. They brought the ladies, blushing and smiling, out onto the floor as the musicians turned their music books to the first page.

“I barely remember any of the steps!” Albert complained.

“Oh, please! The ladies will thank you later! There are never enough men in the dance hall! They’ll always appreciate it,” you replied.

“Well, where’s dinner? I’m starving!” Albert complained.

Both of you walked over to the table. As you began helping yourself to a plate, Albert went over to talk with his good friend, Andrew Easton. You did notice out of the corner of your eye was Sarah Corbyn. She dressed elegantly in purple. The richness complimented her blonde hair. A silk ribbon tied about her waist, accentuating how tiny she was. And of course, she was talking to all the soldiers. You turned your head. You didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want it in your face. No- you would do your best to smile and be charming. Do all you can to win over as many dance partners as the evening allows.

"Oh, Y/N! I am so glad! How much we missed you!" cried Alice, running up to give you an embrace. She was decked in a lovely yellow complimenting her brown locks.

"Alice! I've missed you too! Especially seeing every man in Devon fight to be your partner!" you said.

"Oh, stop it!"

"It's true and you know it!"

"Oh, you should see Mary- she's already on the floor!"

In one corner, talking to other soldiers, you saw Captain Nicholls. He had removed his hat and placed it under his arm. You even could make out his laugh as one made a joke with him. How striking he looked even among them. And his smile made you smile as well. The gentleman pointed to his silk cap and took it off, showing it to Nicholls. He inspected it, looking at it thoroughly with his handsome hands. Then he handed it back. Nicholls said one thing that was indistinguishable, which broke the group into laughter. When his head turned, you looked away.

Once you finished your plate, you met your friends. Beaming and smiling, you managed to find a partner for the next dance through a mutual friend of Alice’s. As you went over to a table to get a glass of lemonade, two soldiers walked by, chatting. Not once did they glance at you, engrossed in their conversation. You heard the tenor voice of the first one clear as chimes.

“…I would say I should be shocked, but I’m not…. always had a bit of the romantic in him…” the first gossiped.

“Hard as he keeps it in, he does, Old James. A romantic wouldn’t have that sketchbook…” the second said.

You paused. Realizing you wanted to overhear. Before you could stop yourself.

“He’s mad about the girl! He’s a Romeo but you’d never guess it when he charges…”

“Jamie says he lights up whenever someone asks about her…”

“You don’t think…he’ll make an offer, sooner or later? I bet her father would lose his head to have a Captain as a son-in-law!”

“Oh, it’s only a matter of time. I doubt it’ll be long…they say things are getting tense. With every alliance Britain got itself into…it won’t be long then…he’ll hurry her to the altar…”

Swallowing back tears, you promptly turned away. You would not, no, could not listen further. You joined Albert and Andrew. You would distract yourself, you would…

Besides, you were determined to move on. To distract yourself. To meet with every young, eligible man you could. To give yourself options. Before the next dance began, you turned to Andrew.

"How about a dance? You must break out into there!" you prodded.

"Why, sure thing, Y/N!" he agreed.

As you began to dance as he discussed how his dad was doing. Talked about Joey. About the Easton family dog. Andrew was a stiff and awkward dancer, but as he talked, he relaxed some. You then went to your friends.

"Ida...how many of the soldiers and officers have you met? Could you please introduce me?" you requested.

Ida's face lit up like it was her birthday.

"Oh, I know some!" she bragged.

"I want to spend as much time dancing as I can!"

"To make up for the lost time?" she asked.

"Yes," you replied.

It was mostly true. You were not going to tell anyone other than your mother how you felt about Nicholls. She kept secrets better than anyone.

"Then, let me show you one gentleman! Booker's his name and he's a wonderful dancer! Oh, and Mister Smith, too!"

Ida couldn't have been better. You found out you had plenty of young officers to meet and chat with. And some of them danced with you! Though often you had to sit down and rest your feet. Even to admire everyone. There was a good balance of sitting and resting with dancing. And with a full crowd, there were plenty of other handsome faces to focus on.

Even Albert himself was smiling a little. He danced with several girls. He blushed bright red when he missed steps but kept dancing anyway. You did notice David Lyons and how smooth new his grey suit was. There was a red-haired girl, very pretty, who danced two in a row with him. It looked like she was the one to endure his sneering.

“Ah, the Narracotts!” said a low, familiar voice.

Turning around, you saw Major Stewart. He bowed in his uniform, and you returned the gesture. And right next to him, there was Nicholls. Your heart leaped into its chest.

“Why, haven’t seen any of you yet! How are you gents this evening?” Albert asked.

“Oh, just fine! The men here- we’re all happy to have some fun!” he responded.

“I hope you’ve been well, Mister and Miss Narracott! We haven’t seen the two of you all evening!” Nicholls queried.

“We have been,” you replied.

“And Albert, how’s Joey?” he said.

“Fit as can be! And gallopin’ every day, sir!” Albert declared.

“Don’t overwork him so he cannot plow,” Nicholls advised.

“Oh no sir, only after the plowing’s done! You should have plenty of time to draw him again if you want,” Albert responded.

“I shall be glad to!”

His eyes softened. They turned to you.

“Then…Miss Narracott, could I have the next dance?” he asked.

You had no partner. You could think of no excuse. You felt stupid just standing there looking at him. Part of you swallowed a scream of joy. The other part cried “No!” There was no polite way to turn him down- ladies had to dance whenever a gentleman offered. You replied.

“Yes…yes you may,” you permitted.

He offered his hand, and you took it, swallowing. Realizing you felt his bare palm on yours. It was calloused by his work with weaponry. You felt both enthralled and relaxed from his tender touch. You let him lead you on as other couples made their way around.

Just like when he helped you when the road was icy. You can indulge in it. Let him take your hand. Enjoy only one dance with him. Just one.

You let him put one hand on your back. Feeling the light pressure. You could see his thick lashes and the blueness of his eyes. You put a hand on his arm, feeling the texture of the uniform. He smelled like light sweat from dancing and cologne. You felt his breath and could even tell the slight lift in his muscles when he inhaled.

“I hope you forgive me. I’m rusty at this. I used to go dancing all the time. With work, not as much…” you explained.

Other couples gathered on the floor around you. You looked directly at him and him at you.

“I can understand. I used to avoid them,” Nicholls confided.

“How come?”

“I was too shy when I was younger. Couldn’t gather the courage to ask a girl. Then when I did, I did the wrong steps. I’d crush a girl’s toe. They all will tell you as proof!”

The violins put their bows on the strings. And you started to dance with him. Moving with his lead.

“You’re keeping out of mine just fine…I think you’re a lovely dancer, Captain…” you encouraged.

“Really?” he asked.

“Like your drawings…you should enjoy it. You should be here…”

He led you to sway as you stepped your feet into a square pattern. You accepted it. Letting him start to pull and push you with the music.

“And Miss Narracott?” he said.

“Yes?”

“You look pretty as a picture tonight.”

Your mouth went dry, and you felt the racing of your heart against your chest.

“You’re very kind, sir,” you replied.

You continued the dance. Feeling the step of the music’s downbeat. He kept turning you around and you danced with him. Let the music take you both. You could almost hear his heartbeat from how close you were.

He took a step back and you took a step forward. When he stepped sideways you followed. It was all so simple. You clutched onto his hand and let his hand on your back press you closer. The waltz was at a moderate tempo. You felt eyes look directly into yours. You couldn't peal your eyes off Nicholls either. He gave a small smile. The way he would step into the downbeat was natural, and you found that you followed.

A glimpse at the crowd showed Stewart smiling, crossing his arms. But Albert's eyes were wide, staring intensely at both of you. He hadn't done that with your previous partners. Nicholls, as always, was dashing in his green uniform. His closeness made you notice details. You can see each button on it. How pressed and perfect it was. Smooth as the round buttons ran down his chest. The four pockets- two on top and two on the bottom are like windows on a building. His lighter green shirt contrasted with his darker green tie. The lovely and ornate cream decorations on his sleeves. The more obscene part of your brain wondered what he looked like underneath it.

It felt natural to dance with him. Natural as eating, as blinking. It was like there was a crook on your body, a niche, that only he could fill. He held you with both confidence and gentleness. He didn't throw you around like a ragdoll. His rhythm met yours. Each step you moved in tandem. Looking at him was as close as one could get to feeling drunk while completely sober. You became aware of how your breath must smell of the refreshments. You only saw slight sweat on his brow from the movement and the heat of so many bodies packed into one space. You felt your own breath become ragged and short. Being so close to him, almost like an embrace. He was quite a tall man, but he was not intimidating. If not, there was a delicacy in his touch, his stature. He could break you but chose not to. It was only a gentle press to keep you steady. You realized it was your fingers curling over his. There were several other couples dancing with you. But with him, that was easy to forget.

His hands even sweated a little. But you saw he was smiling. Your own lips parted, but no words came out. It was a gentle dance. He would sometimes glance at his toes to make sure he didn't step on yours. Then they returned to you. The movement was never forced. And you found the pattern too easy. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

After the dance, you both paused, catching your breath. You felt as though you were coursing with fire through you looking at him. You could feel your chest heavy with each intake. It felt too soon for that dance to end. People clapped.

“Miss Narracott…are you-“

“Oh, dear Captain!”

In cut in Miss Corbyn. Blinking, you took a step back.

“Miss Corbyn! I hope you and your family are well,” he greeted.

“Couldn’t have been better! How kind of you to ask!” she chirruped.

She then turned to you.

“Ah, Miss Narracott, how good to see you,” she greeted in acknowledgment.

She then promptly ignored you back to him.

“Captain, you promised me two dances. Two!” she pouted.

“That was at the one in January!” he corrected.

“And what about this one!? Will you leave me without a partner?”

She turned to you.

“It is bad for a lady to be without a partner, isn’t it, Y/N?” she asked.

“It is bad…” you said.

She whipped her blonde hair back to him.

“Well, we can have a dance?” she pleaded.

“Then, I…I, Uhm, excuse me. Goodbye,” you replied, turning around, and leaving them.

You stomped to the corner to have some dessert and another glass of lemonade. The burning, hot sensation in your body from movement and his skin's touch required it. The unspeakable, shameful things you’d let him do to you as well as the gentle, loving things. And not to look at them. Anything to keep you from looking. You even turned around a chair for two dances and kept your face focused on the wall.

You then danced with one more bloke. Then another. Just to wash Nicholls from you and invite men to call for tea. And to end the night on a good note. Especially about how he was the best partner. How you could still feel the touch his hand burned onto you in the morning.

Summer- 1914

It was such a nice, sunny Friday all that afternoon. Perfect weather. But out the shop window, there were dark clouds. Thunder boomed ominously as your shift reached its last hour.

Returning home, you walked at a quick pace. The bright sun contrasted with the darkening clouds. There were some sheep in the middle of the path. You waved your arms and shooed them off. As you hurried towards your farm up the hill, it started raining. As you walked in, you saw your own parents inside for shelter.

“Where’s Albie?” you asked.

“Out riding!” your mother answered.

The rain turned to torrents. Lightning reached like a large, terrifying finger right through the clouds. It beat against the house in a never-ending fury. The rain broke through the roof and opened the windows. Gusts burst the door open.

Albert arrived, his shirt, boots, and overalls were drenched. Dad got out a tall pole to adjust the roof, so water didn’t break out. You and your mother went about to close and secure windows that the gusts blew open. Running upstairs, you saw that each of your rooms had some rain from the open windows. You shut them closed and secured them. But the rainfall punched against it, like a burglar insisting on getting in. Downstairs, you even saw that the Goose had broken into the house, shaking his white feathers dry.

“Shoo, Harold, shoo!” Mum scolded, pushing him aside.

But the defiant Goose honked in protest and went to a corner to tuck himself in for the night.

It was hard not to shake like a child at the sound of the thunder. It rattled the house when it boomed. But eventually, you managed to crash to sleep. Glad that Dad managed to seal the hole allowing your room to remain dry. In fact, as you lulled, the rain was beginning to sound peaceful.

The next morning, you discovered that the peace of the rain was only in its sound. The bottom field was flooded. You and your family drudged around, the muddy water up to your ankles, trying to save what turnips you could. Only a meager few in the whole field survived. But it was all a muddy, destroyed mess. It would be too late to begin to plant something else.

Albert ran off to check the rest of the farm. You and Dad sat by the fire. Mum fixed all a cup of tea, blankets wrapped around you. Dad only looked sadly into the hearth.

“I know what I can do. I’ll talk to Mrs. Snow. Ask for longer hours. I’ll work earlier or later. Or both. Whatever I must do…” you promised them.

But that Monday, Mrs. Snow said flatly that you were working the maximum hours. And that there wasn’t any need for early or late work.

It was that Friday you hurried home, your paycheck in your basket. Thank goodness it was pay week! With that, it would cover part of the rent. You would do it. You would gladly give every guinea. What need did you have for dance tickets or other indulgences now? If it gave everyone (including yourself) peace of mind, if Dad stopped drinking and staring into space with tears in his eyes, you’d do it. The choice was made when you first got the job! Even if it couldn’t cover all the rent, it was something! Then, you’d scrap up the turnip sales and rely on the animals. Yes, dinners would shrink. But your family would keep the house!

But you noticed a shiny red motorcar parked right outside. As you walked into the front yard, Albert was pacing about. Mum was trying to feed the chickens, pouring feed out from her apron.

“How long have you been out here?” you asked.

“About a half hour,” Mum answered.

“Where’s Dad, what’s going on? What’s Lyons doing here?” you asked.

As if in answer, the door opened. Out walked your father and Lyons. Albert took a step forward, then his steps froze. Mum glared at Lyons, her face red.

“Y/N, come on in the kitchen,” your father urged.

Today was not the Fifteenth. Not the usual day for paying the rent. His son and servants were nowhere in sight. Why you and not your mother and brother too?

“Mr. Narracott, may I have your permission to speak in private with your daughter?” he asked.

The answer hit you.

Terror gripped you. Nausea soured your stomach, and your legs and hands were shaking uncontrollably. You felt as if you could get sick in the yard. Or as if you could faint. You wished you could faint. Just so you could black out, and escape into nothingness. Then awaken in your room to a new day with nothing expected other than the usual. But no, you were in your body. You folded your hands.

“Yes sir, you can talk to her.”

Your father looked up at you. His eyes had both sadness and hope inside them. You clutched at his shoulder, urging him to stay. Stay with you. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. He can talk with both of us, please.

“We’ll be right outside, my girl. He said he won’t talk long,” He said. He then put your hands down, walked outside, and closed the door, leaving you alone with Mr. Lyons.

#war horse #war horse fanfiction #war horse fanfic #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction #captain james nicholls #james nicholls #captain james nicholls x reader #captain james nicholls x fem! reader #captain james nicholls x you #captain james nicholls x y/n #carrie writes #tooth rotting fluff #fix it of sorts #captain james nicholls fanfiction #fix it fanfiction #meet cute #james nicholls x reader #james nicholls x fem! reader #james nicholls x y/n #angst with a happy ending #james nicholls x you #fluff #light slow burn #slow burn #fanfics #fics #capt. james nicholls

[goldnrry]

Fic idea I probably will never write but would love to read under the cut

(Sorry this is not a girl’s girls supporting girls concept because i like drama)

You are a fan, normal girl with a boring 9 to 5 job you hate and have an one night stand with harry by some miracle (you lifetime dream) (this is absolutely self inserted and im half embarrassed)

Maybe you meet at a bar or something or you occasionally do pilates together or you even work at his dentist office

so maybe it’s a reoccurring thing or just a one night thing

After a while you find you you are pregnant and try to talk to him but it’s hard to reach him and when you finally say fuck it and goes to his house to tell him he is already dating someone or is back with his ex he was on a break with when he got you pregnant but you tell him, very shyly now because you feel like you are ruining something and the girl is not welcoming

Alternative: he sees your dms asking to meet up and he very politely declines telling you he is with someone and you are like oh ok loosing the bravery you had to tell him, but one night you say fuck it and text “im pregnant” turns off your phone in a panic and opens you phone hours later to your inbox flooded with him

Anyways you run some tests, baby is really his and you start talking more now that you are planning on coparenting

And you actually get along really well because you share the same comedy braincells

And you try to not let it show how much you like him because he has a gf and you dont want him to be with you only because you are pregnant with his baby, but like… you have a crush obviously

But he is so gentle and protective of you, there where a few occasions where he left his gf in the middle of something to pic you up or your are no feeling well and it starts taking a tool on his relationship

Scene ideas:

first of all when finally comes to his senses he likes you and break things off with his gf he casually calls you at night asking what your craving of the day is so he can bring it to you, then he tells you he broke things of and you are like “oh are you ok what happened” he looks at you for a while before replying he realised he’d rather spend his time with you two while touching your bump

Maybe you get invited to his birthday or something with all his friends and girlfriend that is near a body of water so you have a bikini on), harry is always touching you small bump and at sone point he gives in to a intrusive tough and start pressing kisses to your belly, you stay wide eyed and frozen because thats waaaay to intimate, his girlfriend is shooting darts with her eyes and the whole party is 🫣 looking between you twi and the girlfriend but he is oblivious and maybe you gently try to call him out like “harry maybe that was too much for our situation”

Maybe he is avoiding drinking and any other drugs in support of you and his gf gets annoyed “she’s not even here with us you can have a fucking glass”

Emotional moments on doctor’s appointments and buying baby stuff

Harry telling you he will stay with you, you just have to say so to him and he will, and you are crying saying of course you want you have the biggest feelings and admiration for him and now that you got to know him you love him but you are terrified of him just being excited about the pregnancy and he will get bored of you and leave you for somebe else he develops an administration for

Idk lots of yearning and angst and tension but with an happy ending

He keeps denying for a while and staying in his relationship, but there are also moments where he blurts out things like “fuck I really want to kiss you” when he is dropping you off with his car one night and you are like obviously i do too so much, but you have a girlfriend, are you really into me or are you turned on just because i pregnant with your baby and the moment you get bored you will trade me for someone else?

And a looooooooooot of him being an aquarius man with commitment issues

And he just fucking loves watching how much you are loving being pregnant 🥹 you always have a hand on your bump making this face🥹 and you even blurt out sometimes thinks like “i look so cuuuuuute” but it breaks his heart when overheard you venting out to a friend about how much you love being pregnant but you are so sad you dont get to do this with your forever person

HE CALLS YOU MAMA IN THE CUTES MOST ENDEARED VOICE

Idk if i want the baby to be born on his birthday or for you two to be together yet buttttt he wants the baby next to him when he blow his bday candles so is either the baby in his arms or you standing next to him

#if anyone want to write it👀