#PLUS ITS FASTER AND LESS EYE STRAINING

[thelost-in-time]

could you do yelan and sara comforting reader after a breakdown or bad day? plus points if it involves cuddles :v

I got you, and I hope you're doing well. Thank you for the request.

Added Shenhe, Diluc, Xiao and Albedo.

Requests are open!

Shelter from the storm

Yelan, Sara, Shenhe, Diluc, Xiao and Albedo comforting you after a bad day/breakdown.

Warnings: Breakdowns, implied depression and anxiety, implied intrusive thoughts.

Genre: Comfort, angst to fluff

Yelan

Miss Yelan and you were both out and about on this fine day, well, a fine day in her opinion.

She did her usual work that Ningguang had asked of her to do, but she waited for the clock to tick by faster so she could get to see you again.

Unfortunately for you though, your day was less fine, for you had been low the entire day.

Actually, scratch that, you have been low the entire week— or was it longer? You couldn't tell at this point.

All you knew is that as the day dragged on, your energy levels kept dropping more and more until you were almost depleted of energy.

So when you finally got the chance to go home, you couldn't help but thank the Lord of Geo, and question him

"Dear Rex Lapis, please tell me why I've been feeling this way for a while? Why does it feel like I'm constantly in a storm? Or fighting a storm?"

You had asked the vast purplish, orangish sky, but had gotten no response from Morax.

You could only stare at the setting sun, your eyes dull as a numbing feeling was settled in your chest, where your heart was beating painfully.

You didn't hear Yelan walk up behind you, instead only feeling her arms snake around your waist, snapping you out from your endless thoughts.

"You've been staring at the sky for a while now. Did you discover a bird you like? Or are you captivated by the sunset?"

Yelan asks you, a smile tugging on her lips as she carefully places a kiss on your arm, but frowned when you made no move to look at her.

"What's the matter, my butterfly? Something eating away at you?"

Her voice was now more gentle, more softer as she turned you around slowly and gently, to get a good look at your face.

"Oh.. nothing, Yelan, don't worry about me."

Came the reply she wasn't looking for, a strained smile appearing on your face that didn't meet your eyes.

Alarms began ringing in Yelan's head before she wrapped an arm around your waist, gently leading you into your shared home and to your bedroom.

"My butterfly... how are you really? Please, talk to me, I'm right here for you. I'm your support, and I'll never stop supporting you."

Yelan's words and her gentle voice was enough to make the storm let its heavy rains pour down.

You began crying, sobbing uncontrollably while shaking violently.

Yelan pulled you close gently, letting you rest your head on her chest while she cradled your fragile being.

She let you sob as much as you needed to, gently rubbing your back as she held you closer, her hold protective and comforting.

She didn't say anything while you sobbed, rather choosing to let you cry it all out while giving you silent reassurances that she's there.

Once you were more calm, hiccuping softly as you attempted to wipe your tears, Yelan reached over for an glass, filled with water, on your table.

"Here. Drink some water. You can become dehydrated after having a breakdown, which leads to headaches."

And you drink the water, although shakily, until Yelan helps to feed you the water.

"My little butterfly, I know you've been struggling a lot, and work has been absolute hell for you, but I'm here. Your girlfriend Yelan will never let you go."

She tells you, her voice gentle yet firm as she gently cups your face and kisses the top of your head.

Yelan chooses to cuddle with you that night, holding you close to her while keeping your needs and comfort in mind

Surprises you with breakfast in the morning.

Yelan truly was your shelter in the storm within yourself.

.

Sara

Sara knew what crappy days at work looked like, after all, she had to get the Arataki Gang arrested for violating the rules for the fifth time that week.

But when she stopped by your workplace for a routinely check up on you (and to see how things were going), she stopped.

She noticed you trying to hold back tears, your eyes dull and hand shaking as you worked. Almost as if you... got yelled at.

Sara saw red at the thought, but not towards you, and yet she composed herself enough to approach you with a loving smile.

"Might I steal you away from work today? I need you to assist me with a task from the Shogun herself."

And who would dare defy Kujou Sara herself, aka, the one who takes her job seriously enough to unleash her anger onto anyone who dares step in her way?

So you followed her out, one of her hands gently resting itself on your back as she led you wherever she wished.

Sara matched her steps with yours, gazing at you with concern before she led you to a secluded area.

"My little Raven, tell me what's happened."

Sara speaks softly, moving to gently cup your face with her hands, having pulled her gloves off to hold your face in her bare hands.

The imaginary string holding your tears back snapped, and you couldn't stop the warm, salty tears from running down your face.

Sara gently wiped your tears away, moving to instead hold you close so you can cry against her while she hid you from the view of others.

Or to keep you safe from the rest of the world.

"I keep ruining everything! I'm not good at anything, I-I can't do my job properly, I'm not good at studying stuff, I-I-I'm j-ju-just useless!"

You cried, and Sara felt her heart clench and sink at the same time upon hearing your words.

She hates how your mind makes you feel so worthless, so she holds you closer, kissing the top of your head.

"My little Raven, please, try and breathe. You're almost having a breakdown, and while it's okay, I don't want you feeling physically weak."

Sara mumbles against your ear, her voice calming and patient, gently rubbing your back as she tries to soothe you.

But you weren't able to calm down, no matter how hard you tried, it just resulted in you hiccuping as you tried to retrain your sobs, and Sara noticed.

She sighed softly, opting to sit down with you and cradle you close, trying her best to soothe you.

Holding you in her arms and slightly rocking you, Sara had no idea how to properly comfort anyone, but she knew you always appreciated her efforts.

"If you are unable to prevent your breakdown, then let it out. I'll take care of you."

Sara told you, her golden eyes showing concern as she held you closer, and as you looked up at her with teary eyes, you saw it.

Sara gently wiped your tears, whispering soothing words for you to hear as she cradled you close.

Once you calmed down enough, Sara helped you up and began carefully leading you somewhere, passing a food stall.

"You hungry?"

She asked you softly, glancing at you, only to see you shake your head.

You weren't hungry, and you most certainly wouldn't be able to eat after a breakdown without feeling like throwing up.

Sara frowned slightly and called one of the soldiers that served under her, and ordered them to tell your boss that you'd get the rest of the day off by order of the Shogun.

Ei standing in the corner, trying to get some dango milk and just hearing all the lies but letting it pass because you're Sara's s/o

Sara then leads you home, moving to carry you home instead once you almost fell a couple of times, your legs feeling like jelly.

Upon leading you in the house, she carefully sets you down on the bed and moves to run you a bath, only for you to gently tug her hand, silently pleading for her to stay.

Sara gently moved to kiss your forehead, then gently leaned her forehead against yours.

"It's okay. I'm not leaving you."

She said, but you pulled her closer, not wanting to feel alone in the moment, not even for a minute.

Sara gave you a reassuring smile and moved to cuddle with you instead, holding you close as letting you rest your head on her chest.

"I'm here. I will shelter you from any storm you might come across."

.

Shenhe

Shenhe was out doing some errands for her (adopted) mother, known to all as Cloud Retainer.

That's when Shenhe almost literally bumped into your tired and kind of zoned out self, standing in front of Wanmin Restaurant.

"Magpie? What's the matter? Why do you seem more of a zombie than Qiqi?"

Shenhe asked.... kind of bluntly, but not with any malice in her words, just concern she couldn't express properly.

And yet you had not even acknowledged her presence just yet, still off in your own world, feeling numb.

It was not until Shenhe placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, that you flinched, and snapped out of it.

"O-oh! Shenhe! When did you get here?"

You asked her somewhat nervously, avoiding eye contact with her as your eyes darted from side to side, looking for a distraction.

"Just now actually. Why do you seem so.... dazed?"

Shenhe asked, gently placing her hands on both your shoulders, scanning over your form briefly.

"Did someone hurt you?"

She asked, grip tightening a bit, but not enough to hurt you, causing you to finally meet her gaze, startled.

"N-no! Not at all!"

You exclaimed, trying to reassure her that she did not have to punch anyone in the face today, or break anyone's arms.

"Then what's the issue?"

Shenhe asked, blinking almost owlishly as she awaited a response from you, watching you nervously play with your fingers.

You then sighed before meeting her gaze once more, a slight frown on your face.

"I just.... had a bad day."

You admitted, and Shenhe abruptly pulled you into a hug, a hug that was comforting and protective.

Shenhe had learned how to hug because you had taught her how to, showed her how to love.

"I get that. Do you wanna talk about it?"

She asked you, moving slightly to look at you, only for you to bury yourself against her more, craving her hold.

"Not right now."

You mumbled to her, holding her a bit tighter as she moved to place a kiss to your shoulder.

"That's fine too."

Shenhe said before glancing around the area, Xiangling catching her eye before she glanced over to you once more.

"Would you like some ice cream? Chongyun once mentioned how ice cream helps a lot of people feel better."

You hesitated, glancing up to meet her gaze that hid her gentleness deep down.

"...I'd like that. Yeah."

You said with a nod, causing Shenhe to let out a satisfied hum before calling Xiangling over to ask her to make you ice cream.

Once your ice-cream was ready, Shenhe talking to you about anything she knew would make you feel happy, she held the treat to you.

"Here. Have some ice-cream."

She said, and when you took it, she pulled you onto her lap, startling you as she held you close.

This was normal between you two by now, because Shenhe liked having you on her lap.

And after you offered her your ice-cream so she could get a taste, a very faint pink hue dusted her cheeks.

But other than treating you to ice-cream, Shenhe also allowed you to drag her places you liked, watching with a satisfied look when your mood slowly picked up.

Loads of cuddles from her that night, she's clingy, but she's extra clingy when one of you are down in the dumps.

.

Diluc

Diluc was at Flora's flower shop, passing by before deciding to get you something, ignoring Donna gushing over him.

The sun had already set, and the starry skies revealed to tease people of secrets the stars knew, but wouldn't tell.

"Oh, Master Diluc!"

A sing-song voice that made him want to rip his hair out was heard, the voice of his brother, Cavalry Captain Kaeya.

"Sir Kaeya. Still looking for any horses around Mondstadt?"

Diluc asked, eyes narrowed as Kaeya playfully gapsed in mock offense. Or was that actual offense?

"How rude of you, Diluc. All I wanted to tell you was that your partner is near the Barbatos statue by the Cathedral."

Kaeya said, slightly crossing his arms with a shrug, Diluc immediately locking the information in his mind.

With narrowed eyes and a grumbled thanks, the young Master made his way to the giant Barbatos statue.

Only to see that you weren't there.

Did Kaeya lie to him? Or did you finally climb the statue after joking with him for so long that you would?

He decided to climb up and check for himself, and then work based on his results.

So when he finally reached the hands of Barbatos and saw you standing on the hands, sobs echoing in the wind, he gently pulled you close.

Pulled you into his arms, wrapping his coat around you and maybe crushing the flowers in his coat.

"My dove, why are you crying? What happened?"

Diluc's soft and gentle voice asked you, gently wiping your tears away as you kept sobbing, trying to stop.

But you couldn't. You just couldn't, for you had a bad day, a bad week actually.

Diluc knew you were going to break one day, he just didn't know that day would come so soon.

It reminded him of how he was in a simpler time, a time where everyone knew about young Diluc's gentle heart.

"It's okay. Cry as much as you need to. I'm here. I'll keep you safe."

Diluc murmured softly to you, allowing you to cry as much as you needed to, moving to carefully sit down with you.

Diluc cradled you in his arms, rocking you both slightly in an attempt to try and help you feel better, staying away from the edge.

When your crying had yet to slow down, Diluc hummed you a soft song that his father used to sing for him and Kaeya when they were upset or scared.

And once you were starting to calm down, soft hiccups escaping your lips along with soft whimpers, Diluc pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Do you want to accompany me back home? You look like you need some well deserved rest."

Diluc asked, and once you agreed, he carefully got you both down to solid ground and was ready to walk home with you.

But you tugged on his sleeve, a tired look on your face as Diluc looked over at you.

"I'm tired. Carry me?"

You asked, and Diluc smiled slightly before moving to carry you on his back, making sure you were secure as he felt your cheek against his back.

"As you wish, my dove."

Diluc said before walking home with you resting on his back, and of course, home would be the Dawn Winery.

A home only because you made it feel like a home.

Diluc didn't miss how your breathing had gotten more even, showing that you were asleep. He didn't blame you.

And once arriving at the Dawn Winery, he did his best to ensure that your sleep would not be disturbed, but alas, you woke up when he stopped.

"Are we home yet?"

You asked him in a mumble, Diluc moving to gently set you down and hold you close again.

"We're home. Would you like to go to bed now or—"

"I want to spend more time with you."

You interrupted him, and Diluc smiled gently at you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips before he kisses your hand.

"Then might I interest you in a new juice blend I've been making recently?"

Diluc asked, and your eager nod was all he needed before placing his jacket on you and moving to make you his latest concoction.

You finally noticed the slightest squashed flowers in his jacket, the gesture enough to make you smile as you placed it in a vase of water.

And when Diluc arrived, you drank your juice as he held you by the fireplace, and carried you to bed with him when you had fallen asleep again.

.

Xiao

Darling Adeptus Xiao was always watching over you to make sure that you'd be okay no matter what happened, and so no danger fell upon you.

His eyes narrowed when he saw how your excitement gradually fell through the day.

From a bright expression to a defeated look and slumped shoulders, he saw it all everytime he stopped by during his patrol breaks.

A skip in your step became you slowly walking, borderline dragging your feet from exhaustion, and he wasn't having it.

The Traveller was surprised when they found that Xiao was the one who commissioned them, but saw that it was for you.

Xiao asked the Traveller to deliver to you his signature dish, Sweet Dreams, to try and uplift your mood while glaring at Paimon as a warning.

And when you saw his signature dish delivered to you, it was as if a light pierced through the darkness enveloping you.

Thanking the Traveller, you went to a secluded area just outside the city, and called for Xiao to come and join you.

And he immediately was by your side, sitting next to you shoulder to shoulder, looking at you with a soft gaze.

"You called?"

He asked, smiling when he noticed the look of tired joy on your face, a joy because of him that eased your sadness away a bit.

"Would you like to eat with me?"

You asked, offering him some of his Almond Tofu, but Xiao simply chuckled, placing a Crystalfly in your hair.

(Or a Qingxing flower behind your ear. Your pick)

"You eat. I'll have some later. I made this for you."

Xiao told you, smiling lovingly at you as he met your gaze, moving to kiss your cheek gently.

"But I want to share even a bit with you."

You mumbled, and Xiao's heart began to flutter, but he silently scolded himself before the heat on his face became visible in a blush.

It was not the time to get flustered, not yet.

"Alright, I'll be happy to share some with you then."

Xiao said, grabbing the spoon and took some of the food before moving to feed you instead.

"I'm going to feed you. You're okay with that, right?"

Xiao asked you, but you eating from the spoon he held towards you was just the answer that he had needed from you.

"It will be night soon. Would you like to stargaze with me?"

Xiao asked you, softly, initiating the conversation so that he can cheer you up, for Xiao was not much of a talker until it came to you.

"Yeah. I would really like that."

You tell him with a mumble, Xiao still feeding you before kissing your forehead.

"I once heard a mortal say that the stars hold the destinies of people. I don't believe that myself, but if it's true, I hope the stars show a brighter future for you."

Xiao told you softly, making you want to cry again, but this time from how sweet his words were. Sweeter than his dish.

You hugged him, and Xiao couldn't help but return the hug, holding you close as you tightly grabbed onto his shirt to compose yourself.

Xiao teleported you both to the Wangshu Inn balcony, where he always stood.

There laid a blanket on the ground, as if he was planning on stargazing with you all along.

And so, laying down with him, the young adeptus pulled you close and watched the stars with you.

"If you ever find yourself overwhelmed and wish for an escape, speak my name. I'll gladly come to rescue you."

He truly was a shelter from the storms you faced at times, your comfort.

.

Albedo

Chief Alchemist Albedo, known as Big Brother to Klee

He's well versed in human social cues from studying a textbook on psychology and from watching Kaeya work on shared work stuff.

So when he bumps into you while out in Mondstadt for once, he scans over your form.

Dried tears, puffy eyes, shaky breathes and your voice slightly hoarse when speaking.

Yeah, he knows you just finished a breakdown not too long ago.

"Something you'd like to talk about?"

Albedo asks you, tone soft as he watches your gaze dart off to the side, signalling you being uncomfortable.

"No.."

Came your response, and Albedo nodded slightly before reaching out to wipe whatever tear had yet to dry up.

"Then would you be willing to accompany me out to lunch? I'm just getting a small snack."

He asked you oh so sweetly, and you couldn't bring yourself to decline when you saw his smile. Except...

"I'd rather try your cooking."

Albedo smiled sweetly at you and moved to gently hold your hand, a warmth that was almost calming.

"Then I'll make something for us to eat. I'll make you your favourite food."

Albedo tells you, placing a kiss to the back of your hand before gently leading you to follow him, leading you home, which was coincidentally close by.

And as Albedo began cooking for you, he hummed a gentle song that he used whenever he needed to soothe Klee.

It seemed to soothe you too, even a bit, and Albedo was satisfied by the outcome of his humming.

He didn't force a conversation with you, knowing you may not be willing to talk, but he did break the silence occasionally.

"Still hungry? It won't be too long now."

"Anything you want me to add?"

Questions like that were what he had asked you in order to not overwhelm you, but when the silence, a heavy silence, dragged on a bit too long for his liking, he spoke again.

"You're not alone, you know?"

"Even if it feels like the burdens of the world is crashing on you, you're never alone."

"I'm here, my love. I'll share the burdens with you."

"And when you find yourself getting tired and unsure if carrying on is worth it, I'll be here to carry you and take care of you."

"You're never alone. I'm here by your side, I'll carry you if you find yourself falling."

Albedo's words made you tear, sobs returning to you as you cried at his caring and gentle words, words you needed to hear.

He halts cooking for a moment to hold you close, gently wiping your tears away as you cling to him for dear life.

It feels soothing. Calming. Safe

He holds you close for as long as you need him to, kissing your tears away too, and humming the song almost long forgotten.

And upon noticing you were calmer, he finished cooking, took the food to cool down before moving to the couch.

Setting you down, he followed, and cradled you close.

"Albedo?"

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you. And I love you."

"I love you too."

And when he noticed you fall asleep during your cuddle session, he carried you to bed, making sure not to wake you, and layed with you.

Whispering a promise to you to always be your shelter from the storm you faced while holding you close.

And Albedo finally allowed himself to drift to sleep with you too, the food he prepared ready for you both to eat when you would awake.

.

End

Reblogs, positive comments and follows are more than welcome.

#genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #xiao x reader comfort #xiao x reader #xiao x gender neutral reader #yelan x reader #sara kujou x reader #kujou sara x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x reader comfort #genshin albedo x reader #albedo x reader #shenhe x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin comfort #kujou sara x you #genshin yelan x reader #albedo x you #genshin impact x y/n

[mangosteen]

i need to buy some good scanners sigh

#i LOVE linework but any time i do it digitally it doesnt look right so im gonna try doing it tradigitally #inking it and doing everything irl and colouring it and editing it digitally #cus i think that would work out for me #im far far stronger with my skills in traditional art even though the differences are slowly cathing up to each other #but the LINEWORK #NEVER LOOKS RIGHT #i can easily control my lines with fineliners and chisel shape sharpies and fountain pens but like #there isn't a brush for me digitally that can match up to what I do irl #PLUS ITS FASTER AND LESS EYE STRAINING #i mean in animation i'd have to do EVERYTHING digitally but thats fine tbh #there's always stabilisers and good time for cleanup #but illustratively and MAKING AND PUBLISHING MORE ART (which i NEED to do) wise? I think doing this might help #I need to post art more often but whenever i make lines I can never get the weight right and it puts me off so MUCH #that's a p big part as to why lineless is good for me bc I just have to worry about the colour and shape and even though i LOVE lines #(like it was a huge aspect of my work for YEARS) the fact that i cant get the weight right and the COLOUR right digitally always. put me off

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

#ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell #england national team imagine #chelsea imagine #footie fic #football fic #footballer fic

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

#destiel #destiel angst #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #cas pov #tw car accident #angst with a happy ending #prompt by the wonderful bamboo thank you again and happy birthday!! #bluefirecas #queenrowena #userpris #tearsofgrace #rambleoncas #oh writing my writing #PLEASE FORGIVE MEDICAL INACCURACIES IF FOUND i am a self professed fool #also please forgive bad writing. i hadn't written in WEEKS when i wrote this #long post

[joshslater]

Bulk Bucket

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Time's up, Parker" Ronan Parker felt a firm grip on his arm from someone who had walked up behind him and was now steering him. It was Seth Dale from the football team, though Ronan could never remember what position he played. Sport wasn't a big part of his life, and while he knew most of the players, it was mostly to keep up with the latest gossip. He had been big before the summer, but now he was huge. What had he been up to?

"Good news, Parker. We are going to help each other out." Ronan looked to his other side and saw Nigel Wilkinson, running back on the team. He too was way bigger than before. Had they been working out together over the summer? "Yeah," Seth continued, "we asked around, and everyone agreed we wanted you."

They flanked him on either side and walked him around the corner, away from the library he was heading to. "Christina started to call Brennan by the name you came up with, Brawnan. He really wanted you to help us out" Ronan felt a pit in his guts. Wherever this march ended, it would be payback time. Not being athletic enough for any of the teams, or had enough patience to really shine academically, he'd used his street smarts and social skills to be an authoritative voice on who was cool and who was a joke in the school. The jocks had decidedly been on his shit-list. Not because he really disliked them, he didn't know them, but because it was easy to come up with jokes and every other guy, and many of the girls, would happily join in for their own reasons. Some were envious, some rejected the patriarchal idolization, and some were just getting even after years of getting bullied. But now the tax was due.

Ronan didn't even try to resist. Outrun the running back? Even shake out of Seth's grip would be a feat. They exited the main building and walked towards the sports center. Ronan went through hazings he could recall and started to put them in order of suck. Tied to the flag pole would be preferable to being suspended and used as a punching bag. What about stuffed in a locker with smelly training gear? Probably depends on what gear and the size of the locker. He wasn't that big, so he could fit in all the new ones. "You're awfully silent all of a sudden," Nigel said as we crossed the concrete square outside the main building. "You don't have a new joke for us? The one about beef broth was hilarious to some." Ronan remained silent, thinking that was probably the sane thing to do. "Hey, what about the meatloaf one? People used it for weeks," Seth chipped in.

Nigel opened the doors for them, all the way to their locker room. Inside it was the entire team waiting. The moment they entered the happy banter instantly died down to silence as they walked into the room. Ronan got a shock seeing them. He recognized them all, of course, but the muscles they all packed on during the summer was unreal. Impossible even. The room was quite big, but somehow it felt very cramped with a whole football team's worth of large bodies around him. All had gym clothes on, of more or less revealing kinds. The air was damp and there was a smell of sweat and testosterone in the air. All eyes were on him, but he couldn't make out their expressions. It ranged anywhere from triumphant to muted. Jonathan walked up to Nigel with a protein drink shaker. "All there, freshly squeezed" The shaker was milky white plastic, almost opaque, with a dark, green-tinted liquid inside. Nigel gave it a few shakes. It looked to be about two cups of something sloshing around in it.

"Ok, anyone not ready?" Seth asked the room. There was a second of silence. "Let's begin then." Nigel handed over the shaker to Ronan. "Drink up, funny boy". Ronan's mind was racing. What was in the shaker? Were they trying to get him drunk, or to shit himself? He knew one thing, it would be pointless to struggle surrounded by what looked like a spartan army. Hesitantly he opened the cap, put the opening to his lips, and began to sample its contents. It was sour, it was bitter, it was salty, it was sweet, but more than anything it tested of herbs. Like someone had made a herbal smoothie with whatever they found in their garden, plus lime. "Hurry up, all of it" The liquid wasn't as thick as a smoothie, but it wasn't just water either. Ronan emptied the shaker faster, shaking out the last drops at the end as a pretend front of courage. Almost immediately a loud groan came from his intestines. Then another one. "What's that? I didn't really hear you," Seth joked, and got a murmur of laughter from the team.

Ronan felt clammy and sweaty, like the first signs of food poisoning. Apparently it showed as well, as Seth continued "Not feeling well, you say? You should take a seat." Ronan was showed down unto one of the benches by several hands. He was feeling dizzy. "It's working. Get the stone" someone said. From behind someone tied a leather strap with a stone pendant around his neck. Ronan just wanted to take a hot shower, maybe throw up, and go to bed. Sitting down they all looked even more imposing, looking down on him.

"How long until he's ready?" ask someone Ronan maybe recognized as Harry. It was hard to tell with their new bodies. "The fuck do I know, " Nigel responded. "It's not like we've done this before. Let's give it time to make sure it is fully absorbed. We have all afternoon after all."

"Let's show him what we got," Seth said to Nigel. Ronan still felt like shit, but it was kind of stabilizing. He watched as Seth and Nigel removed their shirts to show off their impossibly well-sculpted bodies. They had been regular jocks as they left for summer break, muscled for sure, but no where near this. "Ok, story time while we wait," Nigel started. "So this year the team had its summer camp over at the reservation. Pretty much the same as every year. Even if the location is different, there are the fires, the tents, outdoor sports and such. It's just that one evening one old indian dude showed up. He wasn't part of the organizers, cause we hadn't seen us before or since, but he talked about how you could channel the spirits around us. Nice camp fire story, but not much more to it. Not until a few nights later when a few of us got high and saw... Well, we realized some shit that turned out to actually work. Being a team we all did it, and perhaps a bit too much, since we ended up like this."

"The coach was fucking furious," Seth jumped in. "Turns out we got a bit greedy on strength and got way more pounds to haul across the field than we can win with, so we need to make some adjustments," Nigel concluded. Ronan started to get the picture, though wasn't sure what it would mean for him. Seth continued "We can't just give all of this back. It doesn't work like that, so we were all in agreement that the best bulk bucket to dump all the excess muscle on is you. The way you've run your fucking mouth off all last year, it sounded like a cry for help."

"Fuck it, let's do it now, " Nigel interrupted. He grabbed a wooden stick with both hands, and held it out in front of him. He closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate on something. Ronan could feel the heat building in his legs, and then tiny vibrations, like when you are pushing yourself to your limit and the muscle is about to fail of exhaustion. Then it spread upwards in his body, the heat, the vibrations, and followed by spasms. Nigel stood completely still, eyes closed, and concentrated. Then Ronan saw how Nigel slowly started to shrink. Slowly and subtly, but he was changing. From what he had been told Ronan assumed the opposite was happening to him, but he couldn't really focus enough to register that. His entire body was just a blur of vibrations, heat, and discomfort.

Then it all stopped, almost instantly. Nigel opened his eyes and inspected himself. He still looked amazing, but more appropriate for a football player his age. "Fuck yeah!" Seth exclaimed, and the entire room erupted in cheers and high fives.

"One down and the rest to go. You'll probably feel like shit until everyone who jizzed in your potion is done," Nigel told Ronan, while handing over the stick to Seth.

Ronan was wide awake and was greeted by staring into a pair of pecs as he opened his eyes. It hadn't been a bad dream after all. He really had been in that locker room for hours, getting more and more pumped with muscles as one after the other of the team grabbed the stick and spent some five, ten minutes on transferring muscles over to him. He had felt less and less sick as they progressed, but his heart sunk lower and lower by what was happening to his body. After about a quarter of them he needed to get out of his clothes. His feet hurt the most, but fabric was straining everywhere. He realized he was as buff as any of them, and by the half point he was confident he could kick the shit out of any of them, but to what end? If he ran away they would just continue anyway. Perhaps the pendant was needed, and he could rip that off, but just as Nigel said he was feeling like shit. So he stayed and went from his thin, normal self, through athletic, jock, muscular, swole, to whatever bodybuilding monstrosity he was now.

He didn't cry, that's not the kind of person he was, but he felt like he should as the now recognizable players went through his greatest hits of jock insults, and a whole list of new ones like meatpacker, swole sink, and hunkty dumpty. Harry had brought a roll of stickers from a supermarket saying "USDA Prime" and put one on his chest. After he had removed it he got another one stuck on his back, and to everyone's great amusement he couldn't reach that far back with all his new muscles. Someone had brought some clothes he could actually fit in. A pair of well worn, bulky sneakers, a pair of spandex shorts, and a stringer with the print "Size Matters", all raided from the lost and found at local gyms apparently.

A lot of the players had left after they had adjusted themselves, and the last few of them left just after having thrown the clothes at him. Ronan sat in shock and disbelief for a long while before he got up and put on the scant pieces of clothing, gathered his belongings, and started to head home. He felt off, but wasn't sure how much was residual of the tonic he drank and what was just his new normal. The way his thighs made him waddle and his chest and arm muscles made the arms stand out wouldn't go away just with a night of good sleep.

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 6

FEBRUARY, 1067 - NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Thomasin Latymer, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

Smut, fluff, injury

The only coherent thought Thomasin could form was that she was probably dying. Whatever his long fingers and broad palm were doing to her . . . She was either dying or going mad. Possibly both.

He was everywhere at once – inside her, beside her, holding her, his masculine scent, the sound of his rough breathing. Sometimes he would dip his face down to kiss her and she could taste him.

He was big and warm and safe and she liked the pretty things he murmured in her ear. ‘Good girl’ and ‘Just relax’ and ‘You’re so beautiful’ and ‘You feel so good’ and ‘It’s okay’ and ‘Don’t be afraid’ and ‘I’m right here.’ 

She needed to be reassured that she shouldn’t be afraid of what was happening to her. She’d never felt like this before, never even knew someone could feel like this, like her soul was peeling itself from her body. But Henry was there and he wouldn’t let her fly away.

She was warmer and wetter and tighter than Henry could have imagined. He could only fit one of his huge fingers in her slick sheath. Her silky walls burned as if with fever. Every time he removed his finger, those velvet walls tightened around him as if forcefully trying to keep him inside. He rubbed the heel of his thumb sporadically over her little peak just to see how she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to contain the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling.

Her passage was so soft and welcoming that Henry had to moan, too. He thought he might burst right out of his trousers if he didn’t do something soon but he forced himself to wait. Thomasin required his full attention. He wanted to make this perfect for her to show her just how safe and satisfied she would be when they wed.

Plus, he was substantially bigger than most men, and for a maid like Thomasin, well . . . It could be intimidating. And there was a real chance she might shove her knee into his groin if she disliked the look of it.

Henry slipped a second finger inside her, thinking she was ready for it.

She wasn’t.

Thomasin’s legs slammed shut and dug her nails into his forearm. “That hurts!” She wanted him to stop now but she snuggled further into his arms for comfort. That made him happy.

Henry hushed her and withdrew both fingers to focus on her swollen pink pearl. She felt empty without him inside of her; she wanted him to put his big finger inside of her again but she’d lost the ability to speak.

Every revolution of Henry’s fingers made her all but lose control. His rhythm became faster and faster; her heartbeat did, too.

Henry felt the first tremors of her release, saw the fearful crease in her brow as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. “Come, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Come for me. Come.”

She didn’t know where he wanted her to go and she didn’t really care. The sensation somehow intensified. Her trembling thighs instinctively closed around Henry’s arm, but he kept up the onslaught. “Please.” She didn’t know if she was asking him to stop or keep going. Hell, she couldn’t even remember her own name.

She twisted her face into his chest and dug her nails into his shoulders as the feeling became more than she could bear. Her thighs automatically slammed shut around his wrist. But his fingers had already stopped moving. He stayed still, letting her shudder and convulse around him while she rode out her climax.

Even when it was over, she couldn’t keep still. She writhed each time a little aftershock pulsed down her legs. She’d completely lost control of herself but she was too overwhelmed to care. Her inner thighs and the cloak beneath her were damp from her orgasm, and even now she made strained sobbing noises into Henry’s shirt, which she had already torn from gripping too hard. 

Henry didn’t mind. Quite the opposite. He had that distinctly male feeling of arrogance that came from satisfying a woman. He had that little smirk on his face even as he soothed her. he ran his hand down her body from her sternum almost to her core, leaving behind a wet trail of her sweet honey that coated his fingers. He wanted to taste her slick arousal but that would probably unnerve her. Henry would bet his immortal soul that she’d never heard of a man pleasuring a woman with his mouth – and bet his life that she’d smack him if he tried such a thing.

“Shh,” he cooed. “It’s all right.” Thomasin whimpered in reply. “Hush, love.” He covered her with the cloak and carried her back to the tent. She was limp in his arms, as if her searing climax had somehow melted her bones. 

The first thing Thomasin said was a dramatic accusation. “You’ve killed me.”

“If I had killed you, you wouldn’t be talking,” Henry pointed out. “You certainly wouldn’t be arguing with me.” 

Her chest and neck were still flushed and her eyes were watery from the intensity of it all. She was shaking, too, but she refused to let any of that shut her up. “I’m not arguing. I’m just telling you that you’ve killed me.” She swallowed nervously. “Am I meant to feel this . . .” she struggled to find the proper word to describe her state. “. . . this weak?”

“Yes. It will pass.”

Henry crouched to fit through the opening flap in the tent and set Thomasin down on the makeshift bed while he went back to the pond to gather the things she left behind. He was on edge now, partially because he needed to attend to his own needs and partially because he was afraid someone had seen them together. 

None of his men would dare speak ill of their lord’s mistress or her purity, but he wasn’t so sure about Roger’s soldiers. Not to mention Charlie, who might very well collapse with anger and shock at his older brother’s actions.

His mistress?

Yes, he supposed that was more or less Thomasin’s relationship to him now that he’d touched her. A lord’s long-term mistress was essentially regarded as his wife, though she commanded less respect after giving up her virtue before marriage.

But Thomasin hadn’t given up her virtue. Henry took extra care not to disturb or damage her maidenhead. And he was going to marry her anyway, so it wouldn’t really matter if he did.

Some men insisted their brides be examined before the wedding to ensure they were fully intact, mostly royals. Henry wouldn’t do that, of course, but he wanted to preserve it all the same for tradition’s sake if not Thomasin’s.

Thomasin wished Henry hadn’t left. He was gone for less than ten minutes, but in those minutes, all sorts of terrible thoughts started creeping in. Would she now be considered a fallen woman? Did she make a fool of herself?  What about her body – did it look right? Her hips and thighs were bigger than either of her sisters’ were and her breasts never seemed quite firm enough and what about the birthmark on her side and dear God what about her womanly parts? What if Henry found her disgusting now?

She was about to fall into a full panic when Kal set his head on her stomach and gave her a look that asked, Do you want to talk about it? 

“Do you know something, Kal?” Thomasin asked, brushing her thumb over the fur between his eyes. “I think I might like you better than him.”

Henry attended to his needs faster than usual; the feeling of Thomasin’s warm, willing body in his arms was still fresh in his mind. He gathered up Thomasin’s things and brought them back to the tent. She was scratching Kal’s enormous stomach when he came in. She was smiling to herself as she pet him. “Some bear you are. I think you were meant to be a much smaller dog than you are.”

“Should I be worried that your affections will stray?” Henry asked teasingly. Thomasin rolled her eyes and demanded he help her put her dress back on.

It was a simple woolen garment Justina had made for her years ago. It didn’t fit very well to begin with, and this endless trek to London was slowly crushing its will to live.

First thing Henry would do when they reached London was commission a seamstress to make Thomasin new dresses. Especially something elegant for the wedding.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Thomasin asked.

Henry sighed. “I thought you were angry with me for killing you.” Even as he spoke, he was settling in beside her.

“I am.” Thomasin lay her head on his chest and snuggled up against him. “But I’m quite cold, and I doubt you’d give me Kal unless you were with him.”

“That’s true,” Henry said, putting one arm around Thomasin and the other behind his head. He sighed with contentment and shut his eyes.

He was hovering on the edge of sleep when Thomasin spoke. “Why did you tell me to come? Were we meant to go somewhere?” 

Henry chuckled, opening his eyes to look at her. “No. It’s another term for reaching climax.” God, she was pretty. High cheekbones with little shadows beneath, full lips, dainty jaw, and alabaster skin. Even the small discoloration on her side was enchanting. 

“Oh.” Thomasin frowned. “Well, that’s silly. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He lifted his head enough to peck the tip of her nose before stroking her soft cheek with the back of his fingers.

Thomasin grabbed his hand and twisted it to look at the signet ring on his little finger. “What’s this?” she asked, tracing the symbol’s outline with her fingernail.

“My family’s symbol. We’ve all got them – my brothers’ wives and our mother, too, though they wear the crest as a pendant around their necks.”

“Hmm.”

“Did your father give you any tokens like that?”

“No. We only ever wore the family colors, and only when someone important was visiting. Though I think my father wore them into battle.”

Henry frowned. “Your father was very protective of you, wasn’t he?”

“He used to tell me that men are meant to love their sons above their daughters, but he considered his little girls far more precious.” She smiled, bittersweet, and sniffed back the tears that threatened to fall. “I think it’s because we reminded him of Mother. He said we were his heart. We needed to be properly looked after.” 

Henry tightened his arms around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I’ll look after you now,” he murmured into her hair.

Fuck.

She wasn’t going to be able to leave him now, was she?

*

Thomasin slept like a log, which meant snoring and drooling all over Henry’s chest. He found it oddly soothing. He liked that he could hear her deep, even breathing. It lulled him to sleep the same way the sounds of rain or running water did. He didn’t notice when Kal slipped out in the middle of the night, and he was alarmed that the dog was not nearby. Kal was his living shadow.

As soon as Henry stepped out of the tent, that strange feeling from last night returned – like he was being watched or brushed with some invisible feather that made him itch. Something was making him physically uncomfortable, and he couldn’t blame it on overdrinking since the wine had worked its way out of his system by now. Something just felt off.

Maybe he’d just been on the road for too long and had reached the point where he really did need a bath. More likely it was Thomasin.

Kal came bounding over to escort Henry to the pond only to turn back and resume whatever it was he was doing before. A handful of soldiers were washing up at the pond; they’d already broken the thin layer of ice that covered the water’s surface. 

He decided to give Thomasin some time to herself when he finished washing; she’d probably need space to process it all, and he feared going back to her would appear suspicious to the others. He walked back to the center of the camp and had his squire start putting on his armor while he listened to reports and planned the day’s route with Roger.

“Your brother’s coming, milord,” Jamie said softly. Roger was out of earshot now but he understood the need for discretion. “He doesn’t look too happy.”

Henry turned his head. Sure enough, Charlie was marching toward them. His gait was stiff, as it always was when he was trying to hold back his anger.  “Fuck off, Jamie,” Charlie barked once he was close.

The squire finished strapping on Henry’s pauldron, bowed, and backed away.  Henry raised his eyebrows at his brother. “What has you in such a foul mood?”

“You spoilt her.” Charlie was shaking with fury. “Your only task was –”

“Enough!” Henry seethed. The veins in his neck bulged as he shoved his brother back so the men wouldn’t overhear them talking. “My affairs are none of your concern. I’d thank you to quit mothering me.”

“Clearly you need mothering!” Charlie half-whispered, half-shouted. “If you’re foolish enough to –”

“I would remind you that I am your older brother and your commander. You will show me the respect my position demands or you will leave. Go back to Simon.” He turned away to storm off. “I swear I’d rather have Jamie by my side than you.”

Charlie followed after him. “You disobeyed the king,” he said. “William could take your head for this if he wants to.”

“It’s my head to lose, Charlie. If I want your help, I’ll ask for it. Do. You. Understand?” He broke up each word  to emphasize his point.

Charlie nodded reluctantly and let his eyes trail over Henry’s shoulder. Kal stood stark-still, staring into the trees. “What’s wrong with your bear?”

Henry turned to look at the dog, sighing. “I don’t know. He’s been like that all morning. I think there’s an animal in the woods.”

Charlie nodded. “Some of the men think so, too. The horses are restless. The hounds are irritable, too.”

“We’ll break camp. Get on the road as soon as we can.”

*

Thomasin was sore. She decided that actually making love to a man would be excruciating if a couple of fingers nearly made her hobble. 

Even though the water was damn near frozen, it took several minutes for her to clear the fog from her mind. Henry was tired of waiting and finally stomped from the road where the horses were waiting back to the pond. Some of the men had already collapsed the tent and packed it away. The only real thing they were waiting on was her.

Henry clapped his hands twice to get her attention. “Your face is as clean as it will ever be. Come on.”

“Don’t rush me, Henry,” Thomasin said. “It’s very unbecoming.”

“Thomasin, we’re behind schedule as it is.” 

“How is that my fault?”

“Because you tried to run away and twisted your ankle and we had to spend half the day looking for you. Or have you forgotten?” Henry only meant to tease her but she looked pensive.

Thomasin stood, wiping her palms on her faded bliaut. “I haven’t.” she lifted her skirts to walk through the snow more easily. 

Henry walked at her side. “Are you sore?” he asked quietly. “Was I too rough?”

“Not at all.” She conjured up a small smile for him. 

Henry smiled back but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What are you thinking about?” He didn’t need to ask; he already knew. “Your sister’s convent is relatively close.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Will you run away?” He didn’t sound concerned, only curious.

Thomasin tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Do you expect me to?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Thomasin heaved a great sigh and turned her eyes back to the path before her. “I suppose I can’t now. After what we did last night, I fear I’m stuck with you.” She gave a real smile this time; Henry grinned back.

“Who says I’ll have you?” he teased. 

The last of the camp was being packed away. All around, men doused the fires they’d used to cook their morning meals, saddled horses, helped each other into their cumbersome armor. The hounds were anxiously milling about, weaving in and out of the horses and soldiers as if to check their progress.

Roger called out to her from his horse. She spoke to him for a few minutes until everyone was saddled and ready, including Henry.

“Come on.” He held his hand out to her. the same hand that had touched her.

Thomasin wasn’t paying attention to him. “Is something wrong with Kal?” The dog stood at the edge of the tree line, growling at shadows.

“He’ll follow once we get moving,” Henry replied.

Thomasin walked over to the dog. She hadn’t gone far but it was too much distance for Henry. He was anxious, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Kal,” Thomasin said. “Let’s go.” She knelt beside him and rubbed his chest to get his attention. It didn’t work. “Kal.”

“Thomasin, it’s time to go,” Henry called from his horse.

“What are you looking at?” Thomasin murmured to the dog. She followed his black-brown gaze into the woods, squinting her eyes to make out the shapes in the darkness.

The first thing she saw was the horse. A black beast that most would consider small for a man to ride, but Thomasin knew his master chose him because he was the swiftest creature in all of England.

She finally drew her eyes up to the horse’s rider. He was dressed in dark green and black, colors which camouflaged him in the shadows of the woods and spoke of his proud heritage as a warrior, the son of England’s greatest warrior. The horse’s reins were knotted behind its neck to keep them from waving about while the warrior rode. He couldn’t hold them; his hands were on his bow and arrow.

Hammond’s eyes were hard, his expression inscrutable as he locked eyes with his sister. He was here to free her. He was here to kill the men that held her prisoner.

He nudged his horse with his heel and disappeared back into the trees with a soft rustle.

“Thomasin.” Henry kept his eyes on the woods as he held out an arm to her. There was something sinister about the trees. He motioned with his fingers for her to come to him. 

She was paralyzed. She couldn’t see Hammond anymore but she could still feel him. And she knew, beyond all doubt, that he was preparing to kill Henry. 

He wasn’t alone – he was too smart for that. But he couldn’t have more than a dozen warriors with him for them all to hide in the forest. It would be a lightning attack – swift and deadly. She’d never witnessed one but she remembered hearing about them. There was one surprise strike and that was all – no prolonged battle, no chance for the enemy to get his bearings or draw his sword before the attackers disappeared again.

“Thomasin, now!” Henry shouted, his sapphire eyes still searching the trees. Still, she didn’t move. He finally tore his gaze from the forest to look at her. “Thomasin!”

She rose slowly to her feet, breathing heavily as though she’d just run a great distance. She saw the concern on her captor’s face, the fear in his eyes, and her heart broke. 

Henry or Hammond. Henry or Hammond. 

She swallowed hard. “Henry –”

The Saxon warriors broke through the tree line with a battle cry. They all had their swords raised as they galloped toward the Norman camp, save for one Saxon. His long, wild hair – longer than was the fashion for even Saxons, certainly longer than the Normans wore it – swooped around his head like the glossy black wings of a bat. He rode his horse at full gallop but didn’t grip the reins. In his hands, he held a bow and arrow which he knocked, aimed, drew, and released without wavering in his seat.

“Is it true your father could shoot an arrow from horseback at a full gallop?” Charlie had asked.

“Yes,” Thomasin had replied, a note of pride in her voice. “My brother can, too.”

But Thomasin’s brother wasn’t aiming for Henry - or any of the other Normans, for that matter. He was aiming for his sister.

“Thomasin!” Henry shouted, just as the first arrow entered her body.

#henry cavill #the cavillry #the tudors #Charles Brandon #duke of suffolk #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the white wolf #mi6 #mission impossible #john lark #august walker #fallout #nomis #night hunter #walter marshall #Sherlock Holmes #enola holmes #hellraiser #hellworld #medieval #au #alternate universe #kal-el #Kal #superman #justice league #clark kent #batman vs superman #man of steel

[noctis-noctua]

Iron Resolve and Refreshing Gales | Overworked Jean x Reader

Relationship: Jean/Reader

Genre: Fluff

Premise: Jean has been pushing herself to the max lately and refuses to acknowledge the detrimental consequences of it no matter who tells her… except for the one person who has her wholehearted devotion.

1754 words.

Here you go! Sorry if it’s a bit subpar - this is my first time writing for Jean, but no complaints here. She’s awesome and I am a total simp for her lmao. 

    Jean has a destructive tendency to attend to the needs of everyone but herself. It doesn’t matter if the issue is as trivial as finding a lost cat or filing papers - Jean carries out each and every request from the citizens of Mondstadt. These days have been busier than usual. Ludi Harpastum is a few days away and that means that preparations are being carried out religiously. In other words, Jean has people knocking on her door non-stop. Can you help decorate Town Square? Hilichurls are blocking the path that my goods are traded on, could you please clear them out? She hasn’t felt the doting embrace of sleep in two days, nor has she consumed more than a couple of light meals. ‘There’s no time for them,’ she often explains to the other Knights. ‘I’m satisfied with anything I can get.’ 

    Lisa is an early riser. She enjoys taking time to brew a pot of Sumerian tea and read new material as the sun floods across Mondstadt, and to do so she must awaken ahead of schedule. It’s because of this that Lisa arrives at the office before anyone else; 5:00 am to be exact, leaving much time to prepare for the day’s labor. She strides to the library doors before coming to a sudden stop, observing the sounds of a frenzied pen in the room across from hers. Jean’s room. Lisa does not hesitate to open the door, exposing a fatigued blonde reading and marking up a stack of documents.

    “Jean, have you been here all night?” Jean’s eyes are dull, leaden bags hanging from beneath them. On the right side of her desk is an almost-spent candle, the dwindling remains of its wax no more than 2 inches. 

    “Oh, good morning Lisa. Unfortunately, I have. That’s alright, though. The sooner I finish them the sooner I can move on to patrolling.” Her tone is desolate despite Jean’s attempts to liven it. The blaring headache ricocheting in her brain is practically begging her to rest, but Barbatos knows that’s not an option. She still has so much to do, and even after she completes this there are mor-

    “[Y/N] hasn’t seen you in days. Not taking a break strains her, too.” Lisa remarks, eyes dancing over the bookshelf. She catches sight of the full series of The Fox in the Dandelion Sea. Mondstadt’s famous romance novels, and one of Jean’s favorites. It’s almost ironic, how such a neglectful Knight came to be a sappy romantic. 

    “...[Y/N] is strong and independent, Lisa. She has no need for me, and although I’d enjoy seeing her, I know that she is perfectly capable of looking after herself. If I have to push my relationship to the side momentarily to sate the people of Mondstadt, then it has to be done.” Jean responds as she pushes another paper to the side. By now there must be 40 finished pages. It pains Lisa to look at them, much less read them. Making peace with defeat, she suggests that Jean purchases a full meal and exits the stuffy quarters. The Dandelion Knight can do nothing but sigh for the 40th time, doing the best she can to ignore the subtle shaking of her limbs, the thrashing pain in her head, and the gradual blur of her sight. 

    She’s fortunate enough to finish up faster than expected and spends the spare time making a beeline for Good Hunter. Suddenly, the hunger in her stomach is 10x more noticeable, and nothing else is on her mind but eating some Fisherman Toast. That is until she bumps into a sobbing blob of red, blubbering much as a fish does.

    “Klee! Did something happen? Did you blow something up?” Jean interrogates, crossing her arms. The small Knight makes a tentative nod and bursts into another fit of tears. I was really hungry… It’s fine, I can always eat later. Jean comforted herself as she held Klee’s tiny palm, preparing for the damage inflicted. 

-

    It’s 11:00 pm. Jean’s ponytail has been ruffled to a point of no return, convincing her to take it down and let the locks of hair flood down her shoulders. New civil letters sit on the mahogany table. Jean prepares another candlestick for the long night ahead, resisting the culling of sleep. It’s much harder to focus than it was last night and nothing but a handful of 10-minute naps and a mushroom skewer are stopping her from dropping dead. Finish fast and I can go home and get a 3-hour nap… Jean’s mind is so adrift and preoccupied that she ignores Kaeya’s presence entirely. 

   “Busy as always, Acting Grand Master. I heard it’s your 3rd day at the office. I thought I’d take the time to invite you to Angel’s Share.” The Cavalry Captain’s voice is sultry, filling the dusty silence. Jean takes one look at his flamboyant figure and turns back to the envelope in her hand, squinting at the printed symbols.

    “Sorry, Sir Kaeya, but I have some stuff to do. I can’t possibly drink - it may impact my performance. Thank you, though.” Kaeya chuckles at that. Stalking over to the paned glass, he observes the joyous city below. Upon closer inspection, Jean looks like absolute shit. Her hair is mussed and her skin is a cumbersome shade, a slight green tone atop her normal paleness. 

    “Same old excuse. Take some time off. You need some fun, Acting Grand Master. It must be boring to be so serious all the time.” His words are not valuable enough to be met with more than a hum. “Fine, fine, be that way. But know that if you ever want to come down, everything is on me. It’s not every day that you come out. Plus… pushing yourself so much can’t be good for your health, Jean.” The drop of formalities is Kaeya’s last attempt to pull his superior away from the bureau, and then he takes his leave. Jean doesn’t fail to notice the painkillers he slipped onto the papers. That snarky Captain… as crass as he tries to be, Jean knows that his actions come from a genuine concern for her health. Thanking him in silence, she tosses the two pills into the back of her throat. 

    The evening descended into twilight, then to the darkest hours of the morning, and Jean has not moved from her chair. The herbal pills had dissipated an hour ago, and the pounding of her headache is almost enough to send Jean reeling. She doesn’t stop, obviously; she’s felt much harsher pains. 4:00 am tranquility serves to be helpful for such aches, but now that her entire body is in pain, it’s much harder to soothe. Her head jolts in intervals as she fights the intense drowsiness. Iron as her resolve may be, Jean is human. Her back hunches as her arms catch a drifting head that now lolls on her reports. The flutter of her eyelashes is peaceful in its own right. Slow exhales leave Jean’s body as she sleeps, her body relishing in such a rare moment. 

    Jean opens her eyes to the scene of a stubby candle that has burnt out. She opens her intricate timepiece in a hurry. 5:00 am. How could she have slept for an entire hour? Dread floods her system as she thinks of how much she has delayed her already bustling schedule. In the midst of her panic, the door opens. It must be Lisa. No one else is mindlessly occupying the building at this ti-

    “Hi, Jean. I brought some tea and cookies for you. I’m sure you must be exhausted… it’s been three days since I’ve seen you, after all.” Jean’s stare softens at the sight of her beloved holding a steaming teacup and a tray of shortbread. She caresses the hand that passes the teacup. The comfort of skin is something she longs for, and something she has deprived herself of these past few days.

    “[Y/N]... I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy lately, and…” Her lips become still as you tread your fingers through her hair and press a chaste kiss to her forehead. “...and I’ve missed you.” She revels in the smile that tugs from you. That beautiful smile… Archons, how much she’s missed it.

    “Jean, come home. If not for your livelihood, for mine. The bed has been cold.” The desperation in your voice breaks Jean’s heart in two. If Jean is a Dandelion Knight, you are the passionate gales of Barbatos plucking her apart, seed by seed. There is no plausible way for her to stay composed around you. Jean leans into the hand against her cheek, a cat yearning for human contact.

    “I suppose I can… do these in the morning.” That earns a swift glare from you. Jean huffs, taking a singular bite of the shortbread. She’s had to explain her Knightly duties to you in many instances, but it always went through one ear and out the other without fail. 

    “No, absolutely not Jean. Give it to your subordinates. Tomorrow, you are staying with me, no questions asked. I’m sure they’ll allow it - your face looks 5 seconds away from death. Now come.” Jean grimaces at the list of tasks she’s stuck on the table’s edge, biting her lip in a debate against herself. Surrendering herself to the feeble begging of her lover, she mutters a small agreement. The tug on her arm convinces Jean to stand, leaning into your shoulder. She finds solace in the warmth you radiate as both of you exit the Knight’s Quarters arm-in-arm, attached at the hip like lovesick puppies. 

    The sun has begun to ascend again, accompanied by a saccharine breeze. It smells of sweet flowers and calla lilies. It smells of the fresh fields of Windrise, tangling Jean’s hair. 

    “Look, even Barbatos is happy that you’re taking a break!” You tease, and Jean cannot help but giggle. She will always laugh at your jokes, and she will always give in to your demands for touch because Jean is a hopeless, pining fool. On the elevated platforms on the Cathedral stairs, Lisa’s plump lips curve as she sees the Dandelion Knight and her precious adventurer roaming the empty streets of Mondstadt. It’s days like this that Lisa is grateful for waking early, so she can experience the morning wind, the rising sun, a delectable dish of tea, and a picturesque scene of a dandelion being burst by the adamant winds.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #jean x reader #genshin jean x reader #genshin jean #genshin impact imagines #genshin #jean gunnhildr #noctis-noctua

[p1nkwitch]

Just wanted to drop this cause im tired.

Enjoy some lonelyeyes reincarnation au in a coffee shop.

Peter works.

Its not something that particularly bothers him much. His sister laughs and jokes around with him, while moving around serving her orders.

Their cafe is small and cozy but also sort of lonely, they have the oddest shifts imaginable, mostly working the graveyard shift.

Peter cooks the pastries while Judith and Aaron take the orders and serve the food. Clara has her music show on fridays and Lydia works at the art gallery but spends most of her time helping around as well.

The five of them are happy.

Simon was happy to help them pay for the Tundra Cafe. He hums under his breath while Judy sings along, there weren't that many people so they could do it without shame.

He is content.

…

At least he thinks he is. And honestly why shouldn't he? He has a good job, he has a good relationship with all his siblings, his adoptive dad loved them unconditionally.

By all means he should be nothing but happy.

And yet.

He feels… as if something was missing.

It was like an itch that he could not get over with.

It probably started back when he got a crush in one of his college professors that he realized-

That he really was missing something important.

Mister Wright was older than him sure, but he was handsome and Peter wasn't one to care much about age. However, the few times they spoke it was-

It was like there was something not right, it soured him somehow, but perhaps it was for the best, the man was married and he just had a stupid silly crush. It still did not take away the fact that he felt as if there was something off with him too.

He thinks his eyes should be a clearer grey than they were.

The next time he realized something was off was when he met Elias Bouchard.

Again it was embarrassing how quickly he seemed to get a crush on him, he just saw him a few times and his mind got stuck on his face. He was handsome and this time he was around his age. They had a few classes together so despite his anxiety he actually spoke with him.

And it was….

Dull.

He was dull as a wall. It did not lead up to anything else, beyond a few greetings later on, but it stayed on his mind.

Any other attempt at dating or going out turned out badly for him and its not as if he didn't try! It just was never… right.

Clara said that if he kept looking for the perfect person he would die alone and miserable. Lydia hits her and tells him that its ok, sometimes people don't click, he just needs to find someone who gets him.

He tries, but between his social anxiety, personality and perhaps his lack of interest in sex during the best of times, people are more or less put off with him. His sisters and brother are all offended on his behalf but Peter has resigned himself to not think too much about it.

Maybe he is like Lydia and he is better off alone.

That makes all of them look at him with tight faces and he blinks confusedly at them.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, just, you have us and dad Peter you're not alone” Judy holds his hand and Aaron nods.

“I- i know, i just meant like relationship wise, maybe i just have to be alone. I know I have all of you. We live in the same building block. I don't think we could be alone if we wanted” That makes them all sort of laugh and the tension breaks.

His siblings talk and joke and he ponders.

He wonders why sometimes they all act weird with him when he speaks about being alone. Why his adoptive dad always made sure to let them know he loved them. Simon was fun and took care of them, but it always felt as if he wasn't saying something.

However he sees his family be happy around him and he ignores that feeling of wrong that always permeates around him. He won't dampen their happiness with his own pessimistic thoughts and paranoia.

So yes, Peter bakes, makes models of ships on his free time, takes pictures a lot-

He found out he enjoyed keeping pictures of things he liked, plus taking odd ones of his siblings. It was just… harmless fun, more often than not he went to the port to take pictures of the ships. He wondered how it would feel to have his own.

Still that's a dream for someone else.

Peter Fairchild is happy with the quaint little life he has.

It stands to reason that his life would be upturned on a Tuesday, Peter has a personal hate towards that day of the week and it makes sense that this happened then.

Aaron was running late, he had to help a friend move out and it took longer than expected, the cafe opened earlier than usual and there were a lot of people. Judith could not take all the orders on her own, and their sisters would not be able to help at least for another hour. So with a sigh and discomfort he goes to take orders.

They work faster like that at least.

Its when he asks about the order of some guy working on his laptop that he gets hit with something familiar.

“One black coffee and a chocolate croissant” The order rings alarm bells on his head so he looks to the face of the owner.

A man with curly auburn hair, red glasses and freckles gives him a practiced strained smile that he sees in more clients, but what actually makes him almost drop the paper he was writing on was the eyes, they were such a cool shade of grey.

He flounders and the man raises an eyebrow impatiently, so he writes quickly and goes back to get order. She gives him a puzzled look since she is usually the one taking them to the customers, but Peter shakes his head and works.

His hands move on autopilot to make the coffee, and even if he says black he puts just the right amount of milk and sugar that his mind provides.

Picking up one of the freshly made croissants and after hesitating a chocolate chip cookie he goes and gives it to the man quietly and without a word. That done and his sweaty palms and his heart going faster he goes to hide in the kitchen, expecting to get yelled at for messing up the order-

But nothing happens.

Judith comes to check on him, but Peter was at that point just cleaning up a little bit and waves her away. Nodding she hesitates and hugs him a little bit before going out. He lets out a breath and sighs.

Lydia and Clara come 10 minutes later and he can stay cooped out in the kitchen in peace. Still he can't help but to be nervous about the customer he gave the coffee and cookie.

Why did he change his order? It was insignificant but it just sounded right. Fretting a little he finishes cleaning the plates. Nothing else comes about and by the time they close the man is gone.

The feeling of loss becomes stronger.

He doesn't see him again for at least another 3 weeks, in fact the only reason he realizes is because Clara says there is a sour red head giving her and Judith the stink eye every time they try to get his order. His lips twitch upwards and he suggests sending Aaron, she rolls her eyes but asks the younger boy to go.

Its not five minutes later that he comes back just as perplexed.

“Is he trying to just get the wifi for free? I'm going to kick him off” Peter dries his hands and quietly prepares the order. Once he is done he sneaks out and delivers it to him, the man gives him a critical look that sends shivers down his spine. Both in disgust and familiarity.

“I didn't order yet”

“... Well you didn't let anyone take your order anyways” His lips purse in thought and he picks up the drink taking a sip. He puts the rest of his things down and goes to turn around to leave, when he asks how did he know how he takes his coffee.

Peter doesn't have a clue.

“You just looked like you needed something less bitter” He sees his mouth fall open slightly and Peter goes while feeling his ears burn, oh god why did he say that?

Once back in the safety of the kitchen, Judy gives him a look but pats his shoulder and goes out.

Ok, ok, he is fine.

The man keeps coming and refuses to let any of his siblings pick out his orders. So Peter is the one in charge to talk with him. Albeit that is an understatement. They merely snark a little, he gives him his order and goes. Whoever is working that day is supposed to charge him, Peter is only obligated to present the food. However the interesting thing is, that just as their cafe opens at weird hours of the day, the man appears there just as well, its kind of eerie how well he seems to know when it's open considering they have the oddest schedules.

Its in fact in one of those times they work at night that he sees him again. Usually he is very put together, but this time he looked… well messy. His hair looked as he had run his hands through it several times, his eyes were red and puffy and he honestly looked miserable.

Peter was completely baffled, the worst part is he wasn't sure what to do, or if he should say something.

The place was almost empty, his sister was keeping watch, so he just stands there and asks what he wanted that night.

He looks up to him and Peter has that feeling that this man should not be looking like this, he should be smug or sure of himself not… whatever this was. He also wanted to pull him towards him and that thought made his cheeks heat up.

“Just- heh, just surprise me i guess. Its been… its been one of those days” He is not sure what he means, but he nods and goes to make him something. Most of the names of the drinks and desserts were Lydia's ideas, the rest of his siblings alongside him were terrible at picking names. He is surprised they even let him pick the one of the cafe, but considering the other options, it was the least weird one.

Still they do have some that they chose for the orders.

Case in point.

The chocolate tower cake lovingly named the panopticon and his special coffee the watcher. It was named like that when it was proven that it had so much caffeine that it made you unable to sleep. He is sure he saw a guy stop blinking for like five minutes after insisting on drinking it, despite the warnings.

So once he grabs it, he takes it to the table and warns him.

“We are not responsible for the repercussions of drinking the watcher” The man looks at him and for the first time since he started to come he sees him smile, soon it turns into laughter. Peter watches while clutching the tray and feeling butterflies in his stomach.

He has a lovely laugh.

“What- what is so funny?”

“You- i- it doesn't matter. I get the name now I suppose. The cake?” The small chocolate tower had several fillings and it was very spongy and full of chocolate.

“Mm the panopticon is the best cake we have, surprised you didn't try it before little man” The slip up comes and he freezes expecting the man to say something or get annoyed, but all he does is sigh and smile more sadly at him.

“Thank you” Its weird and he is unsure what happened but he smiles back awkwardly.

He doesn't come back for 2 weeks.

Its raining when he sees him again.

It was Lydia and him and the place only had two clients sitting around drinking and talking amicably. He doesn't pay attention to the little whistle that lets them know someone entered, Simon thought it would be more fun than a bell.

Still his older sisters comes inside looking-

Frazzled?

Lydia is the most calm out of all of them so he immediately goes to see if she is fine, instead she shakes her head and points inside the cafe.

When he looks he sees the man, but he also realizes he has an awful bruise on his eye and chin as if someone had punched him. His heart sort of seizes and his sister goes out with him.

“Are you-”

“I want another watcher and panopticon” He doesn't let him finish, he is sitting close to the register. The man looks even more tired and wiped out.

“... I will get it?” Lydia elbows him. “Do you- do you want some ice for your face?” He can feel his sister disappointment and need to hit her forehead, but he honestly doesn't know what to say. The man, and he really needs to get a name, nods, so Peter prepares the order and gets some ice wrapped up for him.

“Thank you”

“You are welcome um..-?” He drifts and the man looks at him with one eye squinting due to the swelling.

“Jonah. In Jonah Magnus” He seems to be expecting something, yet Peter just nods.

“Peter Fairchild pleasure to meet you?” Lydia is giving him looks. Jonah seems to deflate, but smiles a little, albeit is tainted by the grimace of pain.

“Now that we have names can i eat?” He scowls but nods and lets him be. Still he checks on him from time to time and everytime he peeks from the kitchen window he sees him staring back at him. Peter blushes and works.

He leaves and he is left with questions.

Lydia acts very oddly and concerned about him and the man, but he waves her off.

Jonah comes back, still with the bruises but he looks more calm.

“I wanted to apologize for the scare, I had an altercation with… a friend. That went poorly as you can see” Peter nods and gives him his cookies.

“So- um.. I was wondering if perhaps as a… you know, treat for being so nice, you would like to go out to eat? Or well i was going to suggest getting some coffee but i think you might already be tired of it by now” It takes him a few seconds to realize he is asking him out. When he does he chokes on air and after thinking it a little he nods.

He sees Jonah smile become more real and realizes he was concerned he would say no. He also sees his cheeks start to slowly become more pink the more he stares. So he looks elsewhere and says they can pick a date later. Jonah nods, grabs the writing pad from his hands brushing their fingers and puts up a number.

“So we can arrange it more easily” Peter nods and laughs nervously while walking away. He feels them tingle pleasantly.

“YOU HAVE A DATE!!”

“With the weirdo Ju, i'm sure Peter can do better than him-”

“Cla don't be mean, plus he said yes so he is interested-!”

“That he is interested doesnt mean its good for him Aaron!”

“Don't be so sour-”

Lydia sits with him and they just watch TV calmly while the others talk in the kitchen making dinner. It was Saturday so they were having it in her apartment.

“Do you think it will make you happy?” The question is too particular, but his sister is always like that so he nods.

“It feels… right, more real than anything i suppose, i know its weird but i just…” He just sometimes feels as if he is sort of existing in some sort of empty space and that everything is his imagination.

Life is good. He has siblings that love him, a dad that cares for all of them instead of their original family that was terrible.

Peter has a job-

Life is perfect.

And yet-

This man is more real than anything else.

Like a splash of color in his grayscale world, he is infuriating with his answers when they have small talks at the cafe, but the banter is familiar, it gives him an ache that doesn't understand.

The same ache he thinks he got when he met James and Elias, only this time its because its right. Jonah is right. He is put out of his musings by a hand on his arm.

“I get it Peter… i really do. As long as you are happy its fine. Just… just know that we love you ok? Don't forget it” He tilts his head and sighs before giving her sister a side hug, the top of her head is a little below his collarbone, so he kisses it and says that he could never.

They meet up to actually have lunch.

Its… its nice.

Jonah is a little bastard and they spend time judging and betting on the people around. He also learns more about him.

He is working mostly in management, which he thinks suits him way too well, he seems bossy enough.

“Rude!” He grins at him and feels…

At ease.

The man likewise seems far more calmer and happy, it makes him oddly happy to see him like that.

They keep going out, sometimes for lunch, sometimes they get coffee somewhere else. But they do and the more he gets to hear him talk, the more he feels as if he had always know him, but just could not remember it. Sometimes Jonah seems that he knows him too and its sort of perplexing. Clara would say he stalked him, but its- there are such small things that its not possible for him to know, even if he had.

Its at their 6 date that he asks him to eat at his place. He looks surprised but nods.

When he opens the door and sees him, he almost stammers a holy fuck, he barely manages to get a hold of himself. Jonah looked-

Handsome, so so handsome. It sort of fried his brain a little bit.

So he lets him and tries to finish cooking to distract himself from saying something stupid or embarassing like-

Marry me.

No, no he is not that stupid.

Still Jonah offers to help and they work in tandem and it is such a familiar feeling he is left breathless.

They move as if they both already were used to having the other in their space, its… nerve wracking. Peter wants to know why.

The dinner is delicious and they end up curling on the couch watching tv, Jonah is using him as a giant pillow and Peter can't complain, the weight on top of him actually makes him feel comforted and also sleepy…

He sees the man yawn and before thinking it better asks if he wants to crash here since its late and they are both tired. Jonah blinks at him and he sees him hesitate, so he assures him he won't take it bad if he says no, it was merely a suggestions and-

He laughs and nods before hiding his face on the crook of his neck. He lets out a breath almost as if punched and feels his cheeks warm up while grinning like an idiot.

Once they change and he offers the man a shirt that hangs a little bit too loosely around his frame they get in bed and Peter sort of… stares, Jonah does the same.

“Hey” His lips twitch.

“Hey yourself” It's not clear which one of them moves first, but the next thing he knows they were kissing. It wasn't rushed or anything merely a press of their lips that sets him aflame inside. God he loves him doesn't he?

He loves-

He-

…

Oh.

Son of a bitch.

He bites his lip lightly making the man complain and then he pulls back.

“You sneaky bastard” He sees him frown and then light up with realization.

“Oh”

“Hello Elias” He frowns.

“Jonah if you don't mind” Peter mulls it over, thinking of James and Elias. It wasn't the body that he wanted.

It was the smug bastard that was piloting it that he loved.

“Jonah” The man shivers “I died” He sees him lock his jaw and close his eyes. How peculiar, he would not have hidden away before or shown… shame for what he can see on his face, he wonders what changed in this life.

Peter sees him swallow.

“You did” Nodding he thinks. He died, there were fear gods, he was a Lukas once upon a time, but now he was a Fairchild even if by adoption.

He grew alone, he grew with his siblings.

He was lonely, he was loved.

Peter sees a small tear escape Jonah along with his body being tightly coiled, as if waiting to sprint out.

The punches make sense now, if someone else remembered...

Letting out a breath and pulling at his hair in thought, Peter closes his eyes too and lets it all go over him. That was a life ago, and now? Now he is here and he was… content, but not happy.

Not until he found him again. Or more like Jonah found him.

Its easy honestly, the answer to what he wants to do with him and this chance.

Peter in his first life had only cared about two things, his god and Elias. One is gone, the other.. changed, but was still the same. The same man he had fallen in love with so many times, and in different ways through the years of their marriages and divorces.

The only one that had some form of hold over his heart.

“Come here my little siren” Jonah’s eyes flash open and he blinks a few more tears away before scrambling to his open arms. Its raining outside and the sound its what they hear beyond their breathing and the beating of their hearst. The lights of the room are dimmed and Peter finally feels right, he pulls the covers up and tangles their bodies together, fitting perfectly together.

Without forsaken he can admit it freely, that he loves this, loves the feeling of Jonah pressed against him, a different body, but also always the same.

He just needs to get used to it again, slowly playing with his hair he speaks.

“You are quite a bastard, but so am i and… as nice as this life is… i think its much better with you in it” Jonah shivers.

“What i'm trying to say is i missed you, even if i didn't remember you before. It was always like there was something amiss. A hole in my perfect little life”

“I-” He smiles tiredly.

“You didn't, i know, but its ok. I know you” Jonah shakes his head.

“I did- i just didn't know it either, i thought it was Barnabas at first, then the others, but… it was you. I missed you Peter, I really did…. Even- even in the apocalypse I still did, I would look into the lonely often. Useless sure, but i did” His plan had worked, but at the same time that was no longer their issue.

“Well I guess we are at an impasse. What do you want to do?”

“... I want- i want to stay, please” He thinks of his apartment, big enough for two.

“You will have to deal with my siblings and Simon, this time we stayed close” He snorts.

“If they don't kick me out, i was… an ass with them” Kissing his forehead Peter laughs.

“You were, but… they are happy for me”

“... then yes i would like to stay”

“Good, Jonah?” He looks up to him again, and Peter sees the eyes are the same, that this time they are right, leaning down he kisses him. They fumble in bed for a long while and when they are both sated and more used to each other's bodies, Peter lets the smaller man hug him from the back to cuddle and finally fall asleep.

“You know one would think you would enjoy the opposite of this-”

“I do, but i missed you, so hush and just sleep” He stays quiet for a little bit.

“Night Peter”

“Night, I love you”

“.... i love you too” He smiles.

In the morning they will make breakfast, Jonah goes to his place and he prepares to work. Once he sees him come in later on during the day he presents to him his order and gets a smile.

They will try to make this life count.

He wonders how long till he moves in with him.

On his way to buy groceries he sees a box with a familiar kitten left to the side of a building and he sighs. Better take his cat to the vet now, food can wait.

His sisters will be ecstatic.

Aaron not so much since he is allergic, but well.

It is his cat.

Life truly is good now.

He got his husband, his cat, family and job.

Humming along with the kitten pawing at his arms softly he feels the most happy as he has ever been.

#lonelyeyes #peter lukas #jonah magnus #captain the cat #mywritingf

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - March 9th

Gandalf and Pippin reach Minas Tirith at dawn, probably near 6am. Practically all the events of the chapter “Minas Tirith” happen on this day, so this and “The Passing of the Grey Company” are out of chronological order. Since most of the first section of The Return of the King centres on the defence of Minas Tirith, it makes sense that Tolkien wanted to start out the book by introducing us to the city and to its danger, so readers would understand why Aragorn considered matters desperate enough to take the Paths of the Dead.

There’s already an indication, early on, of Denethor’s use of the palantír.

Gandalf: For I have not ridden hither from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues [450 miles], with the speed of wind, only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught to ypu that Théoden has fought a great battle,and that Isengard is overthrown, and that I have broken the staff of Saruman?

Denethor: It is much to me. But I already know sufficient of these deeds for my own counsel against the menace of the East.

He turned his dark eyes on Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt the strain between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire, drawn from eye to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.

... [Pippin’s musing broke off, and he saw that Denethor and Gandalf still looked each other in the eye, as if reading the other’s mind. But it was Denethor who first withdrew his gaze.

“Yea,” he said, “for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the Lords of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come to them.”

There’s no way for anyone to have reached Minas Tirith faster from Isengard with news than Gandalf has on Shadowfax. Denethor asserts that the palantíri are lost to throw Gandalf off, but it’s hard to see what other information source Gandalf could expect. But Gandalf says of Denethor that he has some of the abilities of the old Númenoreans: “He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his will thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men, even of those that dwell far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.”

Gandalf also says that Faramir is similar in this regard, and we can see some of that in Faramir’s earlier interrogation of Gollum: “There are locked door and closed windiws in your mind, and dark rooms behind them. And later, to Frodo: Malice eats it like a canker, and the evil is growing. He will lead you to no good. And: He has done murder before. I read it in him. (And the murder of Déagol is something that even Gandalf had a hard time getting out of Gollum.) There’s something rather Elvish about this limited quasi-telepathy of the descendents of the Númenoreans, reminiscent of Galadriel’s testing of the Company in Lothlórien.

At any rate, Pippin meets Beregond at 9am for orientation. They get some breakfast and eat and talk on the walls. Pippin sees wains going south, evacuating the last of the civilians from the city to South Gondor. He also sees, from Mordor, a darkness rising: the gloom was growing and gathering, very slowly, slowly rising to smother the regions of the sun. This is the darkness that will indeed block out the sun by the next morning. Beregond tells Pippin of the fleet of the Corsairs of Umbar. And Beregond is wiser in his way than the Lord of the City: “This is a great war long-planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say. Things move in the far East beyond the Inland Sea, it is reported; and north in Mirkwood and beyond; and south in Harad.”

They talk until noon, then go to lunch and meet the men of Beregond’s company, and then Beregond suggest that Pippin (who has no further duties) go meet Beregond’s son Bergil, who can show him around the city. They watch Gondor’s reinforcements ride in in the late afternoon and evening: 200 from Lossarnach; 300 from Ringló Vale, 500 bowmen from Blackroot Vale, various untrained men from the Anfalas by the sea, a few from Lamedon, 100 from Ethir (the mouths of Anduin), 300 from Pinnath Gelin (north of the Anfalas) and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth with a company of knights plus 700 infantry. Less than 3000 total, and much less than hoped; many regions are holding back forces to defend against the Umbar fleet. Most of them are from land through which Aragorn and the Dead will ride.

And Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the Dúnedain are already in those lands of South Gondor. Today at dawn they set out, followed by the Dead, from the Stone of Erech, and reach the crossing of the River Ciril by sunset. They are passing through the aforementioned regions of Morthond Vale and Lamedon, and are almost at the Ringló Vale; Pinnath Gelin and the Anfalas are well to their east, Dol Amroth is south of them (it’s on the seacoast and a clear target for the corsairs, so it says a lot that Imrahil came to Minas Tirith personally).

Théoden, the Rohirrim, and Merry arrive in Dunharrow at sunset. Now we learn that when Gandalf and Pippin were at Edoras three days ago, Gandalf brought word from Théoden ordering the muster of Rohan. This is invaluable - it means that instead of starting to gather their forces now, which would bring them to Minas Tirith far too late, they are already ready to ride out. In the evening Hirgon, errand-rider of Gondor, arrives with the Red Arrow, calling for urgent reinforcements from Rohan. The news of a massive assault from Mordor actually causes Théoden to send less than he otherwise would have - six thousand rather than ten thousand - keeping some back for defence of Rohan’s strongholds. He estimates reaching Minas Tirith a week after the morning of the 10th; he actually make it in five days, by the morning of the 15th.

Frodo, Sam and Gollum walk through the day, and still the land is silent and waiting and free of the scouts of Mordor. The lands are still pleasant ones, open woodland with large trees (holly [I had to look up what ‘ilex’ meant, and it means holly], ash, and oak) and hyacinth and anemone flowers growing among the grass. At sunset they reach the road between Minas Morgul and Osgiliath.

On the same day, Faramir leaves Henneth Annûn, and spends the night at Cair Andros, as the fastest way back to Minas Tirith; most of the rest of his forces he sends back to Osgiliath to reinforce it.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #today in tolkien #gandalf #pippin took #denethor #aragorn #theoden #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #gollum #faramir

[goldeneyedgirl]

mcu xover: jar of hearts 3/?

Oh yes, my MCU x Twilight crossover is still happening.

And this chapter may even reference the MCU directly. SHOCKING. 

Seriously, I’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve been writing a lot, across a lot of different fics and this one slid to the back of the queue. Also, I wrote myself into a corner and needed to get out again. 

And yes, we’re inching closer to joining up the MCU. These things take time, but it’ll happen. 

part two here

roadtrip.

They’re almost in Arizona when Charlie calls to find out where the fuck Seth Clearwater is, because apparently he’s been tangling up his story all over town - he’s told anyone on the Res who asks that he’s staying with Charlie. He’s told Charlie that he’s staying with Colin or Brady.

Alice scowls at Seth through the rearview mirror and begins to weave a tale of being told Seth had permission to join them to go see their cousins - in between lecturing Seth about setting them up for a kidnapping charge across state lines.

By the end of the conversation, Charlie’s trying not to snigger at Alice’s increasingly indignant rant at Seth, at law breaking in general, and at fucking  son-of-a-bitch moron drivers, sweet Jesus. Emmett and Seth are howling at Alice’s cussing and even Charlie is a little bit shocked at her language (later, when the boys are picking on her about it, she rolls her eyes, looks over the top of her heart-shaped sunglasses, and reminds them both - quite primly - that she married a goddamned soldier.)

Seth’s favourite part of the whole ordeal is that Alice isn’t even driving.

But Charlie clears Seth accompanying them, so that’s one less problem. Of course, it means his Jeep stinks of human food, and that they have to stop, but they still make good time up to Alaska.

It’s a hard drive to make - closer to the cities and urban, abandoned cars have been moved off the road. But in the rural areas, cars are still scattered, seemingly abandoned or crashed. Most of the bodies have been removed, thankfully. But still, only most. And it’s been weeks - months - since it happened, so those bodies aren’t in good condition.

And not all of them are adults.

They start out burying the people they find (well, Emmett and Alice do - they both insist Seth stay in the damn car), but then only the children.

Then they just stop because they are both tired of handling rotting bodies who never should have died, let alone forgotten on the side of a long, empty stretch of highway. The graves they’ve already dug haven’t got markers or anything. Just a hole on the side of the road.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

The house in Denali feels wrong before they even get out of the car. The house has always had a sense of otherness, thanks to the fact that it’s the permanent residence of immortals. But right now, it feels more forgotten, lesser in a way.

Tanya’s walking out the front door the second the car pulls up, and she looks old. Tired and strained, and she walks straight into the hug Alice offers.

Seth gapes at the house - the enormous glass-and-wood lodge, tucked carefully in the wilderness where it is mostly forgotten. It might be on a map somewhere, might be noted down in some database, but it is mostly overlooked, a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.

There’s not really much for them to say or do in Alaska, Emmett realises; Carmen and Tanya are more than capable enough to manage on their own.

Except… Carmen looks like a ghost. She looks disorientated and disinterested, and there’s a part of Emmett that is cold and dead that is perversely fascinated with all the different ways there are to fall apart after the loss of a mate. He’s walking around like a hollowed-out old man, Alice is… not quite there, a little unbalanced.

Sometimes he wonders if Rosalie should have stayed, should have taken his place instead. He would have given it to her, without question. Rose only deserved good things, easy things.

But then he wonders. If living through it all really was easy or good. It doesn’t feel like it, most days. It’s a heavy weight in his chest and a constant feeling of leaving something behind (he’s got one of her hair ties around his wrist; it’s dumb but he always had one on him just in case - at school, when they went hunting, everywhere; he’s also got one of her shirts in his bag. It won’t smell right, being crammed in with his stuff, but he brought it anyway).

Rose wouldn’t have been happy in this world. She wouldn’t have known what to do with Alice or Seth. She would have been angry at the disruption to her life. She would have been afraid and lonely and lashed out at everyone.

No, not good and easy at all.

Then he wonders how Jasper would have faired, without Alice, and that is a grim, grizzly train of thought. Thanos would have begged for death, if Alice had been taken and Jasper left behind. He’s only ever seen a glimpse of the monster behind the man over the decades since Jasper and Alice joined the family, and it’s enough to think that perhaps nature intervened and tried to protect everyone from what Jasper would become without Alice.

They stay in Alaska for two days; Tanya and Carmen are ill-at-ease with Seth, even after they explain who he is.

“But,” Tanya had frowned, “why is he with you?”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

Because Seth was… he was Other, like the Cullens. He understood what it was like to be special and expect to be strong enough to survive and to save; to be beyond the reach of petty mortal shit. He was a fucking kid, who’d lost his family, his friends, and most of his community. Fuck, at this rate, he’d lost his childhood too. He was the natural leader of what remained of the pack, and he’d done something fairly smart - looked for adult guidance.

A shame that the only thing he could find in its place was him and Alice. If someone had ranked his family by ‘best choice to care for a teenage boy’ he, Alice, and Jasper would have been dead last. Edward would have ranked higher.

(It still feels weird to think or talk about Alice without adding ‘and Jasper’. Like he’s mispronouncing a word.)

But it is what it is, and Seth’s still clocking more hours doing online school than online games on the laptop Alice gave him, plus there’s a bunch of food in the back of the Jeep, so they aren’t failing too badly.

Seth turns red when Tanya smiles at him, and Alice banishes him to a guest room, loudly forbidding any imprinting for the next decade, and that just means Emmett has to explain imprinting to Carmen and Tanya, and Alice has to read the riot act to Tanya about not flirting with the fourteen-year-old boy upstairs and it almost feels like old times.

They go hunting whilst Seth is asleep, and it’s obvious that nothing is the same. So much of the forest surrounding the house is just… gone. Empty, as if there was never trees looming over them, underbrush to push through. There are less animals to track and hunt, no excuse to be picky.

It was probably the same around Forks, truthfully, except there was that cloud of grief and horror surrounding him and Alice when they hunted - that was where Edward stumbled and fell. That was where Jasper couldn’t run any longer.

That was where he heard Alice scream when Rosie disintegrated.

In the harsh light of day, the situation feels much bleaker, much bigger outside of the insular forests of the Olympic Peninsula.  

They don’t see a single bear.

He’s not entirely sure why they’ve come to Alaska, except he sees Carmen and Alice go off together, finds them sitting quietly together talking. On one hand, he wishes that he could sit with them; that he lost Rose just like they lost Jasper and Eleazer, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to be a part of that particular club. Doesn’t have words left to comfort Carmen. Most of his platitudes have started sounding hollow.

Alice vanishes one morning, and leaves him to help Seth with school work, and he grimly realises they have nearly four more years of this until Seth graduates. But things will be different before then; they’ll be back in Forks and Seth can ask paid professionals to explain algebra to him.

When Alice returns, it’s time to go - she’s been off in the wilderness, trying to See around Seth, and deciding to go off on her own is, apparently, the best way.

“Call us if you need anything,” Tanya says, pulling all three of them into crushing hugs, and if Seth turns red and tries to look down Tanya’s top, Alice pretends not to notice.

“Where are you headed next?” Carmen asks, as Seth climbs in the back, clutching an energy drink they’re all going to regret.

Alice smiles. But it’s the wrong kind of smile; it’s sharp and sinister and looks wrong on her face. A Cheshire Cat smile, a Joker smile, and Emmett wonders if after all these years together, if Jasper’s reactive violence hasn’t bled into his wife a little.

“We’re going to Mexico.”

—

The trip to Mexico can be described as long.

If the Jeep wasn’t Rosalie’s last gift to him, then they probably could have run there faster, even with Seth in tow. But there won’t be anymore perfectly modified cars ever again, so he’s staying with the Jeep.

Alice gives up the passenger seat once they make it through to Alberta, apologetic that Seth’s been crammed in the backseat. But then Alice starts muttering to herself, tapping away on her phone, and seems distracted and irritated when Emmett tries to get her attention.

He can’t make out what she’s saying at all, it’s just an irregular hum, and he wonders if she’s having more of her one-sided conversations with Jasper.

The trip takes a week, winding through landlocked states. It shouldn’t take so long except everything is in chaos; they lose an entire afternoon carefully shifting some abandoned cars off the road to get the Jeep through in the middle of backwoods Montana. They spend hours waiting for gas every time they stop. And Seth might be a mystical shapeshifter, but he needs a proper bed, and hot food, and human moments; they have varying success at finding all three, but they try, and Seth is nothing if not agreeable and grateful for even the smallest attempt at making him comfortable.

They find an abandoned farm in Wyoming and they let Seth transform and run for a few hours at dusk, sitting on the front of the Jeep in silence until it’s dark enough for them to hunt, as well.

It feels like the world has ended, some days, and they are the only ones left - to him, at least. Maybe that’s why Alice is talking to herself - it’s the only sensible answer she’ll get.

Some towns are empty; no one for miles. The information that filters through the internet mentions people heading to the cities, to the larger towns, because the population is too small to keep so many different settlements functioning. There’s no money or survival if you’ve lost your entire farm, if the hospital or the school is unmanned.

And Emmett wonders if he’s been cured of human blood for good now he’s seen so much of it spilt, stale and rotting, on the backroads of the country. It feels like everything smells just a little bit like decomposition right now. He’s not sure if that’s him or if that’s everything.

And they get closer to Mexico.

—

They arrive just as the day turns to night, and he expects… he’s not sure what he expects, honestly. Maybe setting up in the motel they’ve found, that Alice has declared a safe distance from any of Maria’s plotting, and getting Seth some fresh food - he hasn’t complained, but even Emmett’s tired of the pre-packaged, long-life crap.

Instead, Alice slips from the car, clad in jeans and a leather jacket, tucking her phone in her back pocket.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she says, like she’s going alone.

“What?” Seth looks suspiciously at the pair of them, and it’s only later that he realises the kid is terrified of being left behind. That he’ll cling to their belt loops with his dying breath. His mom left, his sister left, his friends and pack left, and he took a chance on leaving everything else that was left to stick with them.

That makes Emmett feel guilty for no reason he can name.

“I can’t see with you around me,” Alice says gently. “It’s a simple clean-up job, it won’t take long.”

Seth frowns and looks at Emmett.

“You aren’t doing this alone, Alice. Even if we wait in the car,” he says with finality. This isn’t going to be an argument, because there’s nothing to argue about. He’s not letting Alice roam around in a city full of uncontrolled newborns, no matter how talented she is.

Alice scowls. “I know what I’m doing, Emmett,” her voice is sharp, and she never likes reminding them of how long she was alone before she found Jasper; what the family knows about those years is quite vague and patchwork - as far as Alice is concerned, nothing important happened before she met Jasper, as if she popped into being on a diner stool just in time.

Rose always suspected Alice’s real story was very lonely, very frightening, but no one asks when she so obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. He knows what it costs for her to bring it up now.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting my only sister go newborn hunting alone,” Emmett says, and Alice sighs and nods - her visions have gone dark, obviously this is not a battle she can win.

Emmett ends up wishing that he and Seth had stayed behind.

Alice is like a laser, zeroing on her targets with a single-minded intensity. He hears that hum faintly, of her talking to herself and he wants to ask her what she’s saying, what thoughts are so important she needs to say them almost out loud but he doesn’t get a chance.

The first one of Maria’s abandoned acolytes is a girl around seventeen with matted black hair and a dress that Emmett mistakes for some kind of lace at first, except it’s the remnants of dozens of meals dried across the front of her, ripples of dried, stale blood that have solidified into a repulsive black and red mass.

She snarls at them, her face bloody, and the pale form of a man beneath her. Alice just walks up to her and backhands her with a crack that makes Seth jump; Emmett flinches but he’d never admit it.

The newborn snaps at Alice, and in one movement, the girl is pinned to the brick wall behind them, cracks spiralling up her neck from Alice’s tight grip.

“Who the hell are you?” the girl snaps in Spanish and Alice says nothing, just rips her head off by her neck, the screech sounding deafening so close. Moments later, her body is in pieces in a dumpster, along with her victim, and Alice has set the entire thing alight, her face blank.

Emmett makes a decision then, to leave Seth in a brightly lit burger place with a promise he’ll be back in one hour because this is nothing a kid should see.

And he’s so, so glad that he made that choice. Alice’s hunt is something that will be burned into his brain for the rest of his life.

The next newborn is a middle-aged male who reminds Emmett of his English lit teacher back at Forks, right down to the salt and pepper streaks in his hair and the slightly off-centre nose. He’s the worst of the night, Emmett silently decides, as he guards his hunt - a family of five that he’s only half-finished. The father is extremely, viscerally dead and there’s no putting him back together; the mother is choking and struggling for a breath that her torn throat will never give her as she bleeds out; the baby in her arms is long dead with its head taken up by a gaping wound. There are two young girls, clinging to each other in terror, and there is no way this ends well.

The newborn obviously thinks Emmett is more of a threat than petite little Alice, practically frothing at the mouth as Emmett approaches him, and grabs at one of the children. It all happens in seconds - the girls scream, there is a crunch of bone and more screaming, the rich scent of fresh blood, another crunch of bone and muscle, and then the newborn’s head is half-torn away before Alice can get better leverage and finish the job. The dead child dangles from his grip, bent the wrong way; her sister has her head half caved in, and the mother still chokes on her own blood. It all happens so fast.

He should have stayed with Seth.

He lets Alice handle the rest of them - she’s located six of Maria’s surviving nine, and after the family, she takes them down swiftly and wordlessly, just a diminutive blur and the sound of tearing metal.

The sweet smoke clings to them as they make their way back to Seth, Alice’s head down.

“I thought,” she began and just shook her head. And he reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

She thought it would be closure, would feel like an ending or an achievement. That there would be some peace in ending Maria’s life’s work. Instead, she’s just the same, but with blood on her boots and a tear in her jeans. The newborns barely got an opportunity to fight back, to give her the pound of flesh she was looking for.

Seth is waiting for them in the window of the store, a broad grin on his face when he spots them. Back to the motel for the night, now. And then tomorrow…

“So,” he says finally. “What now?”

#twilight fic #alice cullen #emmett cullen #seth clearweater #mcu crossover #my fic: jar of hearts #marvel #mcu fic #why yes we did need a twilight x mcu crossover #it felt necessary

[chaosqueery]

Title: The Great Train Escape

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,765

Characters/Ships: Louise Belcher/ Rudolph “Regular Sized Rudy” Steiblitz

Description:  When Louise hears that Rudy's father is still making him spend his Saturdays in the Juice Caboose, she decides to do something about it.

Alternative Links: (AO3)

A/N:  This idea came to me after watching both 'My Girl' and 'Bridge to Terabithia' within a relatively short time of each other. But don't worry. Both make it out alive just fine in this.

Rudy sat on the hard floor of his Saturday morning cell, the juice caboose, lonely and without any proper stimulation. Every week, he tried to put a positive spin on it. At least he got all the juice he could possibly want, right? Plus, it was a nice time to get his weekend homework done, while nearly all the other kids in his class waited until Sunday night and had to rush to finish. So, yeah. He could still manage a smile and maintain his politeness when boarding the train.

At the moment, however, he couldn’t be any more bored.

Rudy emptied the last bit of grape juice from its box and threw it at the wastebasket. When he missed, he let out a small groan, walked the few steps it took to grab the empty box, returned to his spot, and tried again. He repeated it a few more times, never making a basket until he saw something fly past the corner of his eye.

Interest peaked, he turned to investigate and found a paper airplane had landed on the floor. He was almost too excited for the break-in his monotonous trek around the lake, he hurried toward the plane, and unfolded it. A hastily written message was scrawled out on the page reading: ‘Prison break! Go to the window. -LB’

His breathing labored a bit with excitement, so after taking a puff off his inhaler he rushed over to the open window and saw his best friend, Louise, riding her bike alongside the train.

“Louise!” He called out happily. “What are you doing?”

“Ugh! Didn’t you read the note? I am busting you out of there!”

“But I don’t have anything to climb down with.”

“I got you covered, buddy.” She takes one hand off the handlebars of her bike and shrugs off her backpack. “Move your head away from the window!” Louise ordered, preparing to throw the bag.

Rudy did as he was told and a moment later the backpack flew in through the window on her first try. Damn. Her aim was most certainly better than his. He opened the bag and wound up pulling out a long rope ladder.

“You got it?” He heard Louise yell.

“Yeah!”

“Then hook it on the bottom of the window and climb down!”

Rudy was about to follow her instructions when something suddenly occurred to him. “Hold on a minute!” Rudy rushed out of the bathroom and grabbed his own backpack. He then ripped out a clean sheet of paper from one of his notebooks, wrote a quick note, then placed it on the floor where it could easily be found.

Ready to go, Rudy went back over to the window, hooked the metal part of the ladder over the bottom edge, and threw the rest of it over to dangle outside. He then gripped tightly onto the rope and climbed out of the window. He tried to take one step at a time as gracefully as he could, but the swaying of the ladder made it hard. Thankfully he managed to finally make it to the bottom and stepped off.

“So you can climb down a ladder out of a moving train, but can’t climb off a bunk bed without breaking your arm?” Louise asked when she stopped her bike next to him and planted her feet on the ground.

“Yeah, well…” He scratched the back of his head, not really having an explanation for it.

“What took you so long anyway?”

“I had to leave a note for Ethan saying I was okay and that I’d be back.”

“Oh, crap.”Louise face-palmed. “I don’t know how I forgot about him. Will he get you in trouble?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s been super nice to me ever since the last time you were here. I think he feels a lot of remorse for what he did to Bean Bag.” Rudy frowned at the thought of his poor old friend who was torn apart. “What made you want to come to bust me out anyway?”

Louise shrugged casually. Really, she felt bad when he told her the other day that his father still dragged him on these wine train trips and had to spend a significant amount of his Saturday alone with nothing to do. She wouldn’t care if it were anyone else. But Rudy was always so nice about everything and rarely ever complained. His weekends should be better than this. Louise, however, was not about to reveal the soft spot she had for him. “Today was one of the few Saturdays I have off from working at the restaurant while Tina and Gene don’t. I got bored, thought I’d spring ya. No big deal.”

“Well, thanks for thinking of me! I don’t know how many more times I can go around Lake Waste Water without losing it.” He said gratefully.

Louise got off her bike and grabbed Rudy by the wrist to look at his watch. “Looks like we have about two and a half hours to get you back. What do you want to do?”

“Anything! I’m up for just about anything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, Louise! Look what I can do!” Rudy called for his friend’s attention from a low branch of the tree they were climbing. When she directed her attention to the boy about 15 feet closer to the ground than her, she saw him shift his weight and fall backward, dangling from the branch by his legs.

“Neat.” She commented, not really that impressed. Dangling was the easy part. “Just don’t crack your head open.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He sounded a little less sure of himself now that he didn’t quite know how to pull himself back up. “But everything looks pretty cool upside-down. You should try it!”

“It’s cooler up here, Rudy. You should focus on getting right-side-up again and get up here.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” He swung back and forth, trying to gather enough momentum to pull himself back up. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t manage it. “Uhhhh, Louise?”

She let out a groan. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

Louise groaned again, this time longer and more frustrated. Partly because he needed help, but mostly because she found herself willing to give it. “Fine. Just hang tight.”

“I’m hanging on as tightly as I can!”

The strain in his voice urged Louise to move faster as she descended down the tree, fearing he would  fall and seriously injure himself. That’s all that kid needed. Thankfully she had climbed enough trees to be sure-footed going down. When she eventually reached the branch he was hanging on, she extended her hand to grab one of his and hoisted him back up.

“Woah, head rush.” he breathed out as he wiggled on the branch to right himself. “Thanks, pal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get gross on me.” She said, rejecting the idea of a moment too mushy for her liking. It wasn’t much of anything, but she had a badass reputation to protect here! With how sweet she knows Rudy can be, she had to stop it before it started. “Now come on. We gotta get to the top.”

Rudy looked up the trunk of the tree and realized there is quite a far way yet to go. “Uh-well… okay, I guess.” His voice sounded a little unsure.

“Just stick close by. I’ll even slow down for you.” She stuck true to her word, stopping at every branch to wait for him to catch up. She even held in a groan when he needed to take a break for another puff on his inhaler. Slowly and surely, they finally climbed their way to the top.

Rudy pushed back some of the smaller branches in their way. When he caught sight of all that was around them, his mouth dropped open. It wasn’t that marvelous a sight, Louise thought. She could see the expanse of treetops that surrounded them, the lake, The Warf- nothing you couldn’t see from the top of the Ferris Wheel. There weren’t any people on the ground she could get excited to be towering over and mock. Really, all she appreciated was the accomplishment. She knew that Rudy did too, which is what made her so determined to make sure he did it. Her friend deserved more experiences like this. So when she saw the look of joyous wonder on his face, Louise had to turn her head to hide a smile.

They sat there for a while, Rudy excitedly pointing to all the cool things he could see, but eventually, Louise realized it had been a while since they left the train. Quickly, she grabbed Rudy’s wrist again to check the time. “Crap! We need to go now if you are going to make it back in time.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yes, really! You took too long climbing.” She grumbled, already starting to make her way back down.

~*~*~*~*~

“That was fun, but I’m sorry for being such a slowpoke.” Rudy apologized when they made it back to the train tracks.

“Stop being such a push-over, Rudes. It’s not like I was expecting Spiderman anyway.”

He gave a chuckle and shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“It was still a good time,” Louise assured him, nonchalantly. Then she gave him a punch on the arm that was meant to be friendly but wound up being a little too hard. Thankfully, he knew her and where it was coming from. “Maybe next time we can build a fort or something instead.”

“Next time?” The hopefulness to his voice was unmistakable.

“Uh-yeah. Sure. If I am confronted with another boring-ass day, I could make it out again.” Louise took a few extra seconds getting situated on her bike, afraid to see a look of disappointment on his face over her lack of enthusiasm. She couldn’t let herself show that she was honestly excited about the idea of more of these adventures. Not unless she was willing to reveal the fact that she enjoyed her time with more than she did with most people (the only exceptions being her family). When she finally looked at him, however, he looked as pleased as ever.

Her heart melted -just a tiny itsy bit- and she kind of hated him for it. Her hand was twitching to slap him across the face, but she didn’t. Instead, Louise brushed it off as much as she could and turned the conversation toward the train starting to pass.

“Alright, here’s your ride. You think you can grab hold of the ladder?”

Rudy put up his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot, readying himself. “I got this!” They waited while each compartment passed, and when the Juice Caboose neared, he started to count off. “One, for the money. Two, for the show. Three, to-”’

“RUDY JUST JUMP!” Louise yelled, cutting him off before he missed it.

He did as he was told and leaped with all his might toward the back of the train and landed with an ‘oomf!’ on the small platform. After a short breath of relief, he moved to grab the ladder and climbed it as awkwardly as he had climbed down. But he was alive-at least he was alive. ‘I’d like to see Spiderman do that’

“Yes! You did it!” He heard Louise cheer.

Once he was able to crawl back into the train, he grabbed her backpack and returned to the window so he could roll up the ladder and stuff it back into her bag. He then tossed it out to her, and she brought her bike to a halt to pick it up.

“Thanks for breaking me out! See you at school!” He called out with a wave.

“Yeah, see ya, buddy!” She waved back as watched him ride off ahead of her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N:  I am CONSIDERING making this into a series. But, as always, I can't promise anything.

Anyway, any like, reblogs, or comments are greatly appreciated!!!

#louwheeze #louise belcher #regular-sized rudy #rudy steiblitz #bob's burgers #fanfic #roudise #rouise

[xxpadfootxx]

Request: IzuOcha; Ochako running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, Ochako's heart beating faster and faster and harder and harder, causing Izuku to be concerned about her health

🐾 Past the Breaking Point  🐾

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, sorry this took so long to finish, I’ve had a really rough week this week and haven’t had a lot of time to work on this. Either way, it’s finally done! I hope you enjoy! Thanks again for your patience and for requesting!

~~~

Ochako fought back a yawn as she followed her classmates into the gym on the U.A. campus, her eyes stinging with exhaustion and her muscles screaming for her to rest. She wanted to cave, wanted to shuffle back to her dorm room and slide back under the warm, inviting covers of her bed, but she shook the thought from her head, reminding herself to focus.

For the past several weeks after returning from summer break to enter their second year at U.A., Ochako had been pushing herself harder and harder, forcing herself to keep driving herself forward. She knew part of it was becoming unhealthy in its intensity, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop, determined to keep going.

It started when she began dating Izuku over the summer. She had been hanging out with him one day, enjoying a picnic in a flower-filled meadow when he confessed, Ochako immediately attacking him with a hug and light butterfly kisses all over his face. She loved him, had loved him for so long, that she was naturally ecstatic when he finally admitted his shared feelings for her. The pair had been inseparable, spending almost everyday together; swimming at the pool, taking strolls in the park, and watching movies until sunrise. They had even trained a little together, not wanting to lose the progress they had gained at the prestigious hero school while on break. It was then that Ochako really came to realize her obsession with matching Izuku stride for stride. He was so amazing, already climbing the ranks of the hero world and getting recognized as one of the most anticipated new hero arrivals for after he graduates, she did not want to get left behind. He had sparked something in her, something that drove her to work herself to the bone, determined to be the best of the best, rivalling even Izuku’s own enthusiasm for becoming the best hero he could possibly be.

A small nudge dragged her away from her thoughts, her tired eyes meeting the concerned gaze of the boy she loved so much. He was subtle in the hand he placed on her shoulder, his head tilted slightly to ask what was wrong. He wanted to ask her out loud, wanted to examine her body for an injury he had missed or comfort her on an issue she had not yet told him about, but he wanted to keep their interactions discreet. Their relationship was in no way secret, but unfortunately, the adorable pair always seemed to attract absurd amounts of attention from their classmates, especially the girls, whenever they publicly displayed affection to one another.

Ochako smiled reassuringly at him, raising her hand up to cover his and squeeze it comfortingly. She knew he was worried about her, but he had more important things to think about than her being a little tired, having stayed up training in her room into the early hours of the morning. Izuku noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes but he didn’t press any further as the class finally reached their destination, the students grumbling to themselves as they shuffled into the exercise rooms, not super excited at the prospect of training so early in the morning.

Izuku cast one more concerned glance at Ochako before turning his attention to Aizawa, who was passing around heart rate monitors while explaining the assignment for that day’s exercise routine. Izuku took the monitor from Aizawa with a quiet “thanks” and moved to his own treadmill, clipping on the device before plugging his desired speed into the machine. 

Ochako nodded at Aizawa after getting her own heart rate monitor and made her way to the treadmill beside Izuku, utilizing the limited spare time in their hectic schedules to spend time with her boyfriend, even if they were just exercising for a class. She shot him another smile, more genuine this time, when he glanced over at her, sending his own grin back at her. Ochako followed suit, plugging her own speed into the keypad and rolling her shoulders as she forced her sore body to prepare for another workout.

Things were going well at first, her muscles numbing a little as they got used to the pain of more running, and the exercise chasing the sleep from her system, making her feel more awake. She was breathing a little heavier than normal, but other than that she was fine, putting her earbuds in to distract herself from her tense muscles and aching lungs. It wasn’t until she looked around the room in a quick glance that things started to go downhill. She had only meant to spare Izuku a glance, secretly loving the sight of him shirtless during a workout, enjoying watching the sweat glisten on his skin as he pushed his body to the limits, his eyes bright as he worked. But then she had seen the little red number on his treadmill indicating his speed, her eyes widening a little. She glanced up at the large screen at the front of the room displaying their heart rates, her back straightening when she saw how much harder Izuku was working then she was. Glancing around the room and then back up at the screen, Ochako noticed that almost everyone else from her class was working at a similar level to Izuku, even Mineta getting the momentary strength to move faster than her, albeit complaining and panting like a dog the entire time.

Ochako gritted her teeth in annoyance at herself. She was working less than anyone in the class, her heart rate skyrocketing despite the slow speed in which she was moving. Her eyes hardened as she glared at the little red number on her treadmill, a low growl of disgust and disappointment even managing to bubble its way out of her throat. Without stopping to think about the consequences, Ochako raised her hand up to the keypad and pressed on the plus button, ignoring the sudden flare of pain in her muscles as she forced herself to go faster.

Sweat slicked her skin uncomfortably and her lungs felt like they were being ripped apart by the air inside them but she knew she had to keep going. She needed to work harder, faster, be stronger, and match Izuku in every way she could. She refused to fall behind, not when she wanted to be able to stand by him no matter what. She wanted to be there to protect him and support him as they rose through the ranks together, and she knew she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t working harder.

A soft call of her name made her look up, a pair of green eyes, bright with worry, watching her. His gaze flickered to the steadily increasing number on her treadmill to the screen above them, back to her flushed face. Something was wrong but he didn’t know what it was. Was she sick? She looked like she was, her face an angry red, her normally neat ponytail frazzled and uncombed, her body drenched in sweat, soaking her tanktop to make her light pink sports bra peek through the fabric.

Ochako forced a smile to her lips in response to his concerned call, shaking her head at his silent question. She was fine, she could handle a little workout, this should be nothing for her. She grit her teeth as anger flooded her system. Anger at her body for making this so difficult. This should be a piece of cake for her, so why was she struggling so much? Her breathing got even more shallow, making her feel light headed. Shaking her head again in an attempt to clear the feeling, Ochako lifted her now shaking fingers to the keypad to continue to amp up the speed.

At this point, she was moving faster than even Izuku, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt. She didn’t even have to look up at the screen to know she was finally where she wanted to be, her aching heart and raw lungs telling her themselves. She felt a little bit of pride displace the nauseous feeling for a moment, finally feeling less pathetic as she proved to herself that her body could indeed handle this simple workout. Ochako was so focused on forcing herself to the brink that she failed to notice Izuku watching her, his eyes wide with worry as he appraised her.

He did not like how she looked right now. Izuku thought she looked as if she were about to collapse at any minute, her heart rate spiking to the point of making her profile on the screen above them flash red, a warning sign. Izuku glanced back at his girlfriend, realizing the moment he looked at her that she had no clue she was endangering herself so much, her gaze not even glancing up at the screen, fixed on the handlebars in front of her, as if it were a lifeline keeping her conscious.

“Ochako, you should probably-”

“It’s okay, Izuku, I can handle it,” Ochako cut him off, almost as if the rational side of her brain was still fighting for her to make the right decision, her irrational side convincing her to ignore everything and focus on working herself to the bone. 

Izuku had no idea why she was so determined to maintain this specific speed, but it was making alarm flash through his system. She was obviously sick, or had not slept well the night before, he knew she was strong, but there was no way her body could handle that kind of strain right now. 

Just as he was about to say something again, his mind set on convincing her to either slow down or stop entirely and make a quick trip to Recovery Girl’s office, he saw her whole body sway and freeze. He watched in horror, her body moving almost as if in slow motion, as her eyes rolled back into her head, her form falling towards the ground. 

“OCHAKO!”

Izuku did not hesitate to leap from his own treadmill, not even bothering to cut the power, and catch her before she hit the ground. His loud cry of her name made everyone turn around, their eyes widening in shock when they saw Izuku cradling her to his chest, Ochako completely unconscious.

“Come on, baby, Ochako, wake up, please! Are you okay? Please, answer me, what happened!?”

Aizawa was on his knees in front of his student in the blink of an eye, his eyes narrowed as he examined her. Izuku watched with wide eyes, his arms tightening around her subconsciously as he waited for Aizawa to speak.

“Take her to the infirmary,” Aizawa said after a moment, standing back up and instructing everyone else to continue working as Izuku bolted out the door and headed straight for the sweet old lady’s office.

When Izuku had finally made it to the infirmary, panting with exertion and sweating buckets, Recovery Girl had him lay his girlfriend in one of the empty beds to be examined before shoving him back out, claiming she’d call him in when she was finished.

Izuku couldn’t sit still. There was a bench to his left but every time he tried to sit down, his nerves made him jump right back up again, a hand running through his hair as he paced in front of the door. He just wished he knew what happened. Everything had been fine up until this morning! And sure, she had looked tired, but they were all tired, they always were when Aizawa made them wake up early for these stress tests.

Izuku didn’t know how much time passed but it felt like years before he was finally allowed into the room with her, Recovery Girl poking her head out to quietly usher him back inside. Izuku immediately made himself at home in the chair by her bedside, his hand grasping hers gently, his thumb running over her knuckles as he turned to look at her. She was still unconscious, but her breathing had finally slowed back to normal and her face had returned mostly back to it’s normal coloring.

“What happened?” Izuku asked when Recovery Girl reentered the room with some crackers and water, placing them on a tray for when she woke up.

“We will have to ask her for the specific details when she gets up, but it looks like she was overworked, to me,” Recovery Girl said.

“Overworked? But class hasn’t been any more difficult or demanding than usual,” Izuku murmured.  

“She might be doing training on her own outside of class,” Recovery Girl said, her soft eyes gazing sadly at Ochako’s inert form. “I don’t know why, but it seems as if your friend here has been working herself way past her usual limits, probably getting less sleep and eating inconsistently, which can always make matters worse.”

Izuku nodded and gently squeezed her hand. He had noticed that her laser focus on becoming a hero had definitely increased since they got back from summer break, almost tripling in intensity from their first year, but he had never noticed her working any more than the rest of their class. Although now that he thought about it,  her cheeks had been more sunken in than usual, the bags under her eyes, more prominent. Gods, why didn’t he recognize the signs? Maybe he could’ve prevented this.

A light groan pulled him from his musings and had his gaze snapping to her beautiful face, tears building in his light green hues at the sight of her shifting, trying to come back to him.

“Yeah, come on, ‘Chako, open your eyes,” Izuku murmured, brushing his lips across the back of her hand, a comfort for both her and him as she started to wake up more. Another groan filled the room as Ochako slowly blinked, her gorgeous chocolatey brown eyes widening in confusion when she saw she was in the infirmary. Surveying the room carefully, Ochako stops when she catches sight of her boyfriend, dutifully holding her hand with tears in his eyes and a watery smile on his face. She couldn’t help but smile back at the sight of him, the warmth that flooded her heart with his presence, temporarily making her forget her confusion.

“There you are, how are you feeling?” Izuku asked softly, his thumbs tracing light circles on the back of her hand.

“Like shit,” Ochako said, making the green-haired boy chuckle. “Why am I here?”

“You collapsed during training. We were using heart rate monitors on the treadmills and you just kept pushing yourself past your limits. You collapsed when your heart rate got too high and it was too much for your body to handle, so I brought you here.”

“Oh…,”

“Recovery Girl says you’ll be fine,” Izuku said, leaning over to grab the tray of crackers and water to give to her, watching as she wolfed down the food and drank the water as if she had just escaped a desert. “But she also said that she thinks you’ve been overworking yourself. Have you been doing extra training or something when the rest of us aren’t around?”

Ochako blushed when she realized she had been caught. She had known all along that she was probably pushing herself too much, her obsession overruling her normally sharp judgement, so she  had tried to keep her extra training a secret, not wanting the lectures and concern that would come with it. She didn’t need to be anyone else’s burden, didn’t want to be in the way, taking their focus away from the more important things in their lives. Clearly, that was not an option anymore, the brown-haired girl unable to find it in herself to lie to Izuku.

“...Yeah…,” Ochako muttered, glancing away from him.

“Why?” Izuku asked, gently turning her head to face him by lightly gripping her chin, his thumb tracing her bottom lip until she opened them to answer him.

“Because I don’t want to fall behind you, Izuku,” Ochako mumurmed, a pretty blush stealing across her face. “You’re so amazing and wonderful and talented, I didn’t want to be left in the dust. I want to stand by your side and protect you, support you, love you. I don’t want to settle for just any hero agency anymore. I don’t want to find the first job and go from there. My goal will always be to get my parents more money to live a happier life, it’s just, now I’ve become more focused on choosing a job I actually want rather than settling for the first job to give me a check.”

Ochako couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled out of her throat at the sight of her boyfriend’s dumbfounded expression at her remark, her eyes softening when she looked at him. Reaching up, Ochako cupped Izuku’s cheek, her cheeks warming when he nuzzled into her touch and put his own hand over hers.

“I love you, and I want to be by your side. I know it wasn’t a good thing for my body and my health, but if it means getting to fight alongside you, protect you, then it's worth it.”

A few more tears slipped from Izuku’s eyes as he closed them with a deep sigh.

“Gods Ochako, what are you saying? You are the strongest person I know, you don’t need to kill yourself over this to stand by me. In fact, I need to catch up to you, not the other way around. You are so beautiful and loving and one of the best heroes I’ve ever seen in my life, and you’re only a second year! Please, don’t tear yourself apart because of me, I can’t stand to see you hurt like that, I felt so scared when you suddenly keeled over during our workout, it took Aizawa snapping me out of it to bring you here.”

Ochako looked at him with an awed expression on her face, a few tears of her own surfacing to prick at the corners of her eyes. She had no idea how the hell she managed to get a boy as perfect as this one in her life, but she cherished him. Hearing him compliment her like that made her feel like she was floating, even without the use of her quirk.

“Thank you, Izuku,” Ochako sighed, closing her eyes when Izuku leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“It’s nothing, really. I am your friend and b-boyfriend, it is my job to protect and take care of you. Just maybe don’t try to scare me so much next time, I think my own heart rate spiked so much I must have broken some kind of world record.”

Ochako giggled at him and apologized, her smile widening when he waved away her thanks and apologies, standing from his chair and motioning for her to move over. Ochako’s eyebrow raised but Izuku didn’t reveal anything as she quietly complied. Quickly taking advantage of the extra room, even on the relatively small hospital bed, Izuku slid beneath the covers beside her and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

“Rest,” He said, stroking her hair lovingly.

Ochako turned in his hold to face him, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide before it was broken up by a big yawn. Feeling drowsy and finally able to act on it, Ochako succumbed to her fatigue and curled into Izuku, her face burying into his neck as he continued to pet her hair, his chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t see the wildly silly grin on Izuku’s face as she fell asleep against him, but she could feel his quick heartbeat thrumming in time to hers, his love for her pulsing through her system with every loud heartbeat against her ear.

#mha #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #ochako x Izuku #izuku x uraraka #mha izuku #izuku midoriya #IzuOcha #uraraka ochako #urakara ochako #ochako #mha ochako #ochadeku #dekuchako #mha deku #deku #uravity

[intelligentdumbass]

Apollo and Marsyas

(So, on advice of bro, maybe I’ll start posting my writing shit here now too. Have fun reading I guess, and be wary of typos and grammar.)

~~~~

I suppressed a laugh. Athena raised an eyebrow and took a quick glance down at her reflection in the water. She frowned; immediately the music stopped. Before I knew it, the flute was thrown off Olympus.

“Well, that’s a shame.” I said. “What a waste of a newly invented instrument.”

The goddess gave me a look of disgust.

“I didn’t like the distortions it made on my face.”

“You mean how you puffed up your cheeks whenever you played? I dunno, it didn’t look that bad to me. Plus, the music was great! Although I suppose it did look mildly…amusing.”

As always, her glare could’ve left someone scarred for life. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

…

The flute tore through the sky and tumbled towards the earth, landing on Phrygian soil. It was soon discovered by a local satyr; Marsyas was his name.

“What’s this?” He said as he picked it up.

It took him a while to figure out the object’s use, but as soon as he blew into it, already blessed with the breath of an Olympian, the instrument produced the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. Delighted, he was suddenly filled with a newfound conviction.

‘I must share this music with all who are willing to listen.’ He must have thought.

Days turned into weeks, then months, then years of practice. By now the satyr had gained quite a cult following, and out of all of the spectators that came to watch him play, someone had caught his eye. Despite how rarely he saw them, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get them out of his mind. He imagined them to be a young maiden, perhaps even a mortal princess? Can you believe it, Marsyas? A pretty young woman going through all the trouble of sneaking out of her father’s house just to hear a glimpse of your song.

“Trust me when I say that there is no other musician who lives on this earth who will sing a sweeter melody in your name, my love. Not even Apollo himself could compare to the songs that my flute will sing in your honor.”

But not anymore. Their smile didn’t fade, but it did start to become a little... strained.

“I’m flattered, I really am.” They said. “But you must really refrain from saying such… blasphemous things.”

Marsyas only laughed.

“But it’s true! Do you not believe me? You cannot deny my talent that which drew you and so many others to listen to my music.” He smiled, but they only frowned. “What’s with that look? Are you afraid that he will strike me down?”

“Stop. That isn’t funny. A mortal can never compare to any of the immortal gods, much less the ones who dwell in Olympus.”

The satyr then exclaimed in the loudest voice he could muster.

“Let it be known that I, Marsyas, hereby challenge Apollo, the god of music, to a contest to prove once and for all who is the more skilled musician!”

His companion stared at him in shock. Slowly, their frown turned into a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, oh my. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such arrogance like this since…”

They suddenly took a step forward and with one hand grabbed his jaw; holding it in a way so that his eyes stared into their own.

“Marsyas” The voice that came out was now much lower; far from how a young maiden would sound like. “Have you not heard of the tales of Arachne nor Salmoneus? I shall give you a second chance. Renounce the challenge.”

The satyr could barely breathe, and who could blame him? The being that stood in front of him was no mere mortal. Their eyes… My eyes, they shone like the finest of sapphires, and my locks looked as if it was as if it were made of real strands of gold. For a moment he glanced down. Instead of seeing the breasts of a woman, the dress hid the body of an athletic young man.

“I-” “I refuse!” Marsyas managed to stutter out. “What reason would you have to ask me to take back what I said? Could it be that you actually feel… threatened by it?”

I resisted the urge to crush his skull and just took a step back, letting go of his jaw.

“Your loss, satyr.”

It didn’t take long for a crowd to start gathering around us.

“The muses will be the umpires-”

“But-” He tried to interrupt, but I quickly cut him off.

“Don’t worry about any biases they might have towards me. I don’t know about you, but I am of the opinion that they have a greater chance of being fair towards you than any other judge you might pick.”

It was true, and from the frustrated look on his face he must’ve realized it too. Any other judge he might’ve picked might’ve just named me the victor no matter what; fearing my wrath.

“Look at you.” Marsyas started out of nowhere. “Look at how you stand your ground; how proudly you think of yourself. So, what if you have an athletic form carefully sculpted by the hands of the most talented artist? What of the gloriously golden tresses that you call your hair? What of your sparkling eyes and mellifluous voice? All those wonderful talents and features that they love to adore you with are just a mask for an empty hollow husk.”

I blinked. Despite his attempt at an insult, it had also sounded like he had ripped his lines straight out of one of the many hymns dedicated to my praise.

‘Okay, talking wineskin.’

“Since I was the one who called for the challenge” He continued. “Let me determine the prize for the victor”

“…Then go on. What’re your conditions?”

“The winner should be able to do whatever he pleased with the loser.”

…

I already knew the satyr was good, great even. However, I also knew I could do much better. When my turn was over, we both turned our heads towards the nine judges. Our audience was either crying like they had just lost their philtatos or smiling like they had just successfully rescued them from the underworld. The muses on the other hand, I… I had never seen them so… conflicted. I think my heart ran a little faster than what was to be expected, but that didn’t matter. The solution was simple; we’ll have another round.

I played the cithara upside down during the second round, something the satyr could not do with his flute, but that was not all. This time I added my voice as well.

“Wait!” Marsyas exclaimed. “This is a contest comparing each other’s skill with the instrument, not our voices!”

“Oh please, when you blow into your pipes, it might as well be the same as singing”

The nymphs supported my claim, and after briefly glancing at each other, the muses did too. I held in a laugh and continued to play and sing to my heart’s content. My mellifluent, honeyed voice; one of the few powers I was actually born with, something that belonged to me and only to me. When I was done with my song, the winner couldn’t have been more obvious. Of course, that didn’t stop the satyr from complaining.

“Enough.” Euterpe’s voice rang throughout the crowd, silencing everyone, including Marsyas himself. “Even if Phoebus hadn’t played his instrument upside down, nor added his voice to the mix, you still would’ve lost. It was faint and quick, but I still heard it as clear as day. You played one note out of tune.”

You should’ve seen the look on his face, he was absolutely devastated. I couldn’t help but pity him a little. That mistake he made most defiantly had something to do with the nervousness that came with going against someone whose status far exceed theirs. If only he had kept his mouth shut, then none of this would’ve ever happened. I would've never had to defend my title as the god of music. Did he actually think that he could've best me? Did he actually think he could do so much better than my decades and multiple lifetimes worth of experience?

“V-” “Very well…” Fear filled the loser’s eyes. “What is it that you would have me do?”

“Aw, no need to be afraid my dear.” I whispered into his ear. “Do you remember the words that you said that started this whole mess? How not even I could compare to the songs that you will sing in my honor? Well, that is what I would like you to do. I would like to give you another chance to prove me wrong by singing to me the most dreadful song anyone could ever hope to imagine while bounded up against a tree.”

At first Marsyas was confused, but it wouldn’t take long for the air to be filled with his horrid cries of surrender and protest.

“No! NO!” He screamed. “Why tear me apart?!” He cried. “Oh, I repent! I give in! I lose! I beg of you to forgive me! No pipe is worth this price!”

I stripped the skin from his body; the whole of him was one huge wound. Blood splattered everywhere. The sinews were laid bare, veins naked, quivering and pulsing. You could count his twitching guts and tissues as the sunlight seeped into his ribs. Even the heart shone red in his breast.

The natives of that land all shed their tears for him, the water mixing with his blood. Hence, a new river raced down the gentle banks and carried the cursed pipes towards the open sea. It took the name of Marsyas, the freshest, clearest stream of ancient Phrygia.

Some say I nailed his skin to a pine tree near a lake, others a cave. Another said I had actually made it into a wineskin. Truthfully? Despite being a god of knowledge who never forgets, I don’t quite remember anymore and frankly, I don’t want to. It’s bad enough that I can still hear his scream. It’s bad enough that whenever I played my lyre, I could never get rid of that dreadful song of anguish echoing in the back of my head.

“Apollo...?” I heard one of the muses surrounding me gently ask, maybe it was Calliope. The broken mess that lay on the floor in front of me was the cithara, my cithara. Its strings were all broken; I had torn them out.

“I’m-” “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I think I’ll just take a small…break for now.”

Before they could pry any further, I was already gone.

#Apollo #Marsyas #greek mythology #MyWritingShit #How tf does putting read more work on mobile- #Nvm did it on pc #greek gods #Soon to post more of my stuff here

[eelpatrickharris]

What’s wrong with bettas?

Annnd as promised, here’s that write-up on betta genetics and what’s wrong with all those pretty genes. We’ve got pictures and everything. This is a full, comprehensive list of the various problems with domestic betta traits. If you’re in the market for a new angry pal, then there’s a list of “good” things to look for in a betta at the end.

Just a quick intro before we begin: I’ve been into fishkeeping for over a decade, I currently have 16 running tanks ranging from 5 to 440 gallons, I’ve got about 200 fish at the moment, and I’ve had a good 20 to 25 bettas of my own over the years. When I was younger, I even bred a pair of pet store veiltails together, and reared some of the fry into adulthood. So, this is information coming from someone has both seen these things firsthand and talked with many, many other betta keepers who have done the same.

This is my new betta, Embezzlement. He looks great, right? He really does! But he’s also quickly going blind as a result of his thickened scales growing over his eyes, his fins will end up dragging him down to the point of immobility as he ages, and he’s at high-risk for developing visible tumors all over his body. I’ll get into that under the cut!

(To learn more about why the heck I willingly bought Bezel, just click the link attached to his name up there.)

((I don’t own any of these photos, or bettas, unless noted))

The Dragonscale Gene

We’ve all seen these boys and admired them. Please refer to my totally pro image mashup above and look at the thickened, shiny scales. That’s dragonscaling. It comes in white, grey, blue, and teal; and it can cover any part of the body, including the fins. Some have masks of dragonscaling, some have full body coats, and some just have intermittent patches. Most dragonscale bettas start developing noticeable dragonscaling at 1-2 months, and it continues spreading from that point on. 

Now, if it was just a pretty shimmery gene, that would be great! But it isn’t. Dragonscales are abnormally thick scales that spread everywhere, even over their eyes. You can see the scales start to circle around the cornea on the left, and a progression on the three fish to the right. Once the scales reach the eyes, it’s only a matter of time before they go completely blind. (This is basically a guarantee for bettas with dragonscaling on their face.) If you don’t want a blind betta that can’t safely navigate its environment, stay away from those opaque, shiny, thick scales. 

The Marble Gene

If you’ve ever seen a pretty “koi” betta covered in colorful blotches? That’s a marble. A weird, flesh-toned betta with neat speckles? That’s a marble. If you’ve ever seen a betta that’s changed colors over the span of its life? That’s 100%, definitely, without a doubt, a marble. The prevalence of marbles in the market is for 3 reasons: 1) it’s considered a dominant gene, 2) marbles are pretty rainbow boys, and 3) it’s also really, really hard to breed back out of lines.

So, the thing about marbles is... their pigment cells are constantly mutating. They can completely change colors in a couple months. Your red and black and white koi that you paid $30 for might turn into a muddy maroon right before your eyes. And since their cells are constantly mutating, you guessed it—

They’re prone to developing tumors. Yeah. They go lumpy even faster than the average betta.

Blue Bettas and Graphite Disease

Nah, not even the comparatively boring bettas are safe. Bettas that are 90-100% blue with little other coloration on their bodies? They’re prone to graphite disease, which is a fast-acting killer with no known cure. 

Their fins and bodies start turning grey, like someone shaded them with a pencil, and then boom: they’re dead within a few days. This is likely due to their reduced ability to process carotenoids, which are the substances responsible for increased red pigment. They also play an important role in keeping the immune system functioning properly, so without those.... yeah. They get sick even more easily than your average betta, and they die even more easily than your average betta. Also. Graphite disease. Not a fun time.

Red Bettas and Tumors

Pure red bettas are some of my favorites. Red is a symbol of good luck in Southeast Asia, where bettas are primarily bred and shown, so they’re also an important part of the industry. However, to get that pure, solid red coloration in a fish that’s descended from these guys:

You’ve got a lot of inbreeding to do. Linebreeding, inbreeding, crossing back, whatever you want to call it. It can be beneficial to show lines if you’re doing it right, because breeding the offspring of an animal back to its parent intensifies all of the traits that were passed onto it. However, with fish that are and have always been treated as trinkets, no one bothers screening for the negative traits that are being compounded along with the coloring.

So, red bettas are a whole mess of health issues, but they’re very prone to developing tumors. This is, unfortunately, one of the ones I have plenty of experience with. When I was younger, I had a male veiltail with solid red coloring, and he turned into a mass of lumps before dying. The same thing happened with my most recent betta, Genie. She was in my care for all of 9 months before I had to put her down, as there were multiple little tumors developing all over her body, and a large one over her internal organs that was visible from the outside.

Here’s a side by side comparison. From the day I got her to the day I euthanized her so she wasn’t in pain. For those of you who don’t know about her, she was the pond betta who lived in a 440 gallon blackwater biotope and fed a live insect-based diet. The pH in there is 5.8, the temp is 78F, the water quality is always 0/0/0, and there weren’t any environmental stressors that contributed to her decline in health. She was kept in the best conditions I could possibly give her, and she still went that far downhill in 9 months. She wasn’t a full year old.

Unfortunately, it gets worse from here! Get a glass of water, grab some snacks, we still have fin types to cover.

Halfmoons and Rosetails

You see those two gorgeous guys above? Those are halfmoon bettas, one of the most popular and commonly available types of bettas! Note how dang big those fins are. They only have them fully extended like that when they’re flaring. Now, look at this picture of a halfmoon with his fins in the normal position:

See how they collapse into a long, ruffled shape? Two things here. 1) Those fins are literally useless and hinder them from swimming properly, so they have to exert way more effort than necessary to even move around. This is how we get that signature “betta wiggle” that people find endearing. To properly drag those massive fins around and keep them from dragging, they have to undulate their whole body in an exaggerated manner, which gets harder and harder as they age.

And 2) This leads to fin biting. Note how that poor guy’s tail is all tattered and shorter than his ventral and dorsal fins. When bettas are weighed down by their own fins? Their solution is, a lot of the time, to self-mutilate and nip them off. The jury is still out on whether or not they have feeling in their fins; but even if they don’t, they’re still opening themselves up to potential infections. Plus.... even the fish don’t want those draperies. C’mon. You know it’s not good if they’re literally tearing themselves to shreds just so they can swim again.

Can’t forget rosetails, either! That blind pal on the left and living tulle skirt on the right are bred for fins that go over the halfmoon point (they aren’t a semi-circle, they’re more like a pizza with a couple slices taken out)  and have enough bulk that they stay ruffled even when they’re flaring. For obvious reasons, these are even worse than halfmoons. Oh god those poor fish.

Crowntails

These spiky boys are crowntails, another common fin type seen in Petsmarts and Walmarts everywhere. Not much to say about them that wasn’t covered under the halfmoon section. They’re fin biters, because even though they don’t have as much fin mass, those tendrils still create large amounts of drag and hinder their movement.

Doubletails

We took a halfmoon and we made it worse. That.... that takes skill. These genetic abominations were specifically bred to have not one, but two tails! And I’m not sure how much truth there is behind this, but their spine is supposed to split into two portions to create that Y shaped tail. Obviously, that would strain their spine and create a whole handful of new problems, on top of that further decreased swimming ability.  (After Bezel passes, I’ll probably get a doubletail and see if that spine thing checks out.)

Congrats! You made it to the bottom!

Now, here’s what to look for, if you want to buy a healthy(er) betta.

If you’ve been in a pet store recently and looked at the shelf with all the bettas on it, you can probably recognize some of these traits in 9/10 fish. And if they’re not lying on their side on the edge of death, they’ll probably look good and healthy and tempting to take home.

Remember how screwed up those bettas are, though, and get one of the better options. Here’s a list of questions to ask yourself before taking a betta home.

Male or female? When it comes to fin types, females will almost always be better off than males. Thanks to sexual dimorphism, female bettas have shorter, less exaggerated fins. Therefore, a crowntail female can swim about as easily as a plakat (read: short-finned fighter type) or veiltail betta. If it’s a female, just make sure the fins aren’t bitten or weirdly long. If it’s a male, see below.

How drastic are the fins? The shorter, the better. Just make sure they aren’t short because they’ve bitten them off. Also, veiltails are one of the healthiest fin types currently available, because they’re an “undesired” trait, and have wider gene pools as a result of not being inbred to a severe degree. They're functional, too! These boys can swim.

How pretty is it? If the betta looks like a galaxy painting threw up on it, then chances are, it’s gonna have some issues later in life. You want a betta that’ll hopefully live for years? Get an ugly one. Orange, yellow, tan, peach, dirty white, whatever. Stay away from those solid reds/whites/blacks/blues. Those two boys above are great examples of “ugly” bettas. Even though the one on the left is marble, he still has a better chance of living a good life than an inbred solid black disaster.

If you want something a little fancier than a fish that looks like.... well, kind of like flesh, get a cambodian! Their coloration is a variation of piebald. They’re characterized by a light, peachy body and colorful fins. They’re pretty flesh fish. These were actually one of the earliest types of domestic bettas, fun fact.

How shiny is it? Shiny scales don’t automatically mean they betta is a dragonscale carrier. For example, compare these crowntail and plakat (that fighter-type mentioned above) males to the true dragonscales at the very top. Lightly shimmery scales that naturally fade into the body aren’t dragonscales. If they’re the same size and thickness as the rest of the scales, they probably aren’t dragonscales. You can get an eye for telling the two apart after awhile.

And that’s it, that’s the show. Thanks for reading!

This guide was written on 2/03/2019 and will be edited as necessary.

2/08/2019: edited to remove swearing

#long post #bettablr #fishblr #aquablr #this took so damn long oh my god #but it's done! and it should be useful! #crowntail #halfmoon betta #rosetail betta #dragonscale #veiltail betta #betta tag

[mypassionfortrash]

Nap Time

With your daughter taking her afternoon nap, you and Roger use your free time wisely to try for another baby.

Warnings: Roger Taylor x f!Reader; STRICTLY 18+; baby making and dad bods. Notes: This is another one from the BoRhapRogerina days - tweaked and improved. This is a personal fave. It’s very soft. Hope you like it!

“It’s alright, darling,” Roger sang, bouncing your two-year-old daughter on his side. He gazed down over his sunglasses as she snuggled against his soft linen shirt. “Are you gonna go nap-nap? Yes?”

The pair of you dumped your bags in the hallway. It was a beautiful day, so the three of you had decided on a picnic in the park. Until your daughter decreed she had had enough of picnics and sunshine and that the three of you should go straight back home, lest half of London hear her teary wrath. Like her father, there was no amount of coaxing you could do to get her to be quieter or more docile once her mind was made up. She wanted to go home. Now.

Fresh from a blistering tantrum in the car home, she peered up at her dad. The mention of nap time grabbed her attention. Her cheeks were scarlet, and beads of snot dribbled from her nose. But there was no question she was his daughter. Her watery blue eyes dilated as she nodded, munching at her fingers.

“Yeah?” Roger beamed.

“Mum-mum!” She squeaked, grabbing at the space between her parents. 

“You want mum-mum?” he gushed. “Where’s mum-mum? Where is she? Let’s get mum-mum?”

You were through in the kitchen, emptying your half-eaten lunch on the counter when you heard the word, ‘mum-mum.’ For a second, you prayed that Roger had the situation in hand. 

But then Roger’s footsteps grew nearer. “She wants you.”

You spun around, giving your husband a look that burned through him. “You owe me for this.” 

Roger smirked, handing her over to you. “I’ll wait for you in bed.”

Fifteen minutes later, you sauntered through to the bedroom. Roger was sprawled on the bed, resting his eyes. His shirt was closed by one single button around his chest, and you could see his stomach rising and falling steadily.

Queen had stopped touring a few years prior, and to fill the void, you and Roger started a family. Without a hectic schedule that dragged him away from you for months at a time, his image changed as he eased himself into family life. He was softer, both in physique and manner, and the lines on his face grew more apparent with the nights he lost to nappy changes and night feeds. Somehow, it made you even more attracted to him. 

You couldn’t resist the sight of him, laid out and ready for the taking. So you crawled on top of him. 

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. A drowsy smile worked its way across his features. “Hello, my love.”

Your hands slipped underneath the tails of his shirt to draw your nails up his sides. “Hello, Rogie.”

Roger scrunched up his nose, enjoying your touch.

“What you thinking?” you asked, giving your hips a quick roll against him. 

That was all it took before his hands grasped your thighs and his eyes fluttered open. “Do you ever think about having another?”

You cocked your head to the side, grinning at the thought. 

“It’s not as if we’ve got anything better to do than shag each other as much as possible,” he continued.

You giggled, feeling the heat between your thighs growing.

“Especially since that little terror’s getting a bit older. Doesn’t get in the way as much.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t missed this,” Roger continued, his fingertips feathered over your tummy for a moment, before returning to stroke your thighs. “Plus you just looked so gorgeous when you were pregnant.”

You knew how much Roger relished that. But you had never told him how you felt about the changes you saw in him. You looked down at his tummy, circling your fingers through downy wisps of hair. “I have to say, I think it suits you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roger asked, seeming offended. 

There was no point in skirting around the subject. “I like you a bit pudgier,” you stated, kneading his soft belly. “In fact, I love it. I think kids these days call it a ‘dad bod.’ More to hold on to, if you know what I mean.”

A playful look took hold of Roger’s face. He shook his head as his hands moved up to your hips. “Why don’t we test that theory?”

You shot him a knowing look as you rolled down beside him, lying on your back. “Go on then!”

Roger grinned, giving you a speedy peck on the cheek before shuffling between your legs. The fabric of your dress caressed your thighs as Roger hiked it up around your hips. Roger’s lips were delicate against your skin, lavishing it with leisurely kisses from your knee to the edge of your underwear. 

Moments like this had been so rare that even fleeting touches like this sent shocks through you, making your toes curl. It had been so long that you despairingly tried to restrain yourself while Roger slipped your underwear down your legs. Or when he gave a look that gave away everything inside his head. He was hellbent on devouring you.

Roger’s hands stayed on your hips, gripping them tightly as he pushed his mouth closer to your core. 

His tongue exploring every slick, throbbing fold made you keen against him, but he kept you right where you needed to be, pushing you down against the bed. You had to make do with grabbing tufts of his hair while your eyes screwed shut, staying mindful not to make a noise. 

Roger made it tough, though. His tongue darting over your clit pulled a gasping moan from your lips, forcing you to slap your hand over your mouth. You could feel his laughter reverberating through your body as he sought to push the same response from you again. His efforts had you teetering on edge in no time. 

“Roger?” you gasped, breaking contact with him.

Roger was still on his front, gazing up at you, wiping your slick from his chin. “What is it, my love?”

“We need to be quick.”

Roger agreed. Clamping his lower lip between his teeth, he rose to. His cock strained against his jeans and sprung free the second he tugged down his zipper. One hand pumped slowly around his thick, veined shaft, while the other planted itself on the pillow beside you as he leaned over. 

You ached to have him closer, dragging him in by any means at your disposal. You reached up and edged him nearer by his hair to lay claim to his jawline and eventually, his mouth. The feeling of his body pressing against you, coupled with your scent on his skin was intoxicating. It only made that primal, frenzied need inside you grow out of control the longer he dragged it out, the tip of his cock slipping between your folds, taunting you. 

“Are you going to pump another baby into me or what, Rogie?”

“What the lady wants,” he chuckled into the crook of your neck. He laced his fingers with your own while his other hand guided his cock inside you.

He stretched you eye-wateringly tight around him causing you to shudder. You had forgotten what it felt like. How incredible he felt. How full he made you. His actions were so slow and measured that it made you throb, your thighs luring him closer to you. “Please, Rogie, faster,” you gasped. 

Roger touched his nose to yours with a smile. His hips moved more purposefully, following a terse and shallow rhythm. “We can’t, my love.”

The frustration made you whine. “Fuck.”

Roger’s grin only grew. “Don’t you like it like this?”

To tell him you didn’t would have been a blatant lie, but you wanted so desperately for him to give you release. And quickly. “Please.”

“What are you begging for, my love?” Roger purred, nipping at your neck. It was as if his actions were deliberate. As if he wanted you to beg.

The harshness of his mouth against that soft spot made the feeling between your legs spike. Your walls clenched around him, trying to hurry things along. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked when you were pregnant,” Roger admitted, his voice snagging in his throat. 

You cast your thoughts back to how he could barely keep his hands off you, how content you felt. It added yet another layer of bliss to the situation, making you more eager, desperate for him to give you just that again. 

“Showing the world that you’re all mine. So full and gorgeous,” Roger continued, his voice descending into a stilted growl. It felt like he was all around you, cocooning you in a divine warmth that made his painstaking movements less tedious. All you wanted was to savour him like this, slowly working you into oblivion. “Tell me how much you want it,” he whispered.

The ability to speak escaped you. Your mind was so fogged that all you could focus on was Roger’s actions and his words. Hanging on each and every one of them. Telling you exactly what he was going to do to you. You ached for it.

“Tell me. Tell me, my love. I know you want this as much as I do.” Roger’s body was growing tense. His hips no longer moved in fluid motions. Instead, they were consuming and primal. His breathing was becoming erratic against your neck as you clawed at his hair, clinging on to handfuls for dear life. “I’m not gonna pump another baby into you if you don’t tell me how much you want it.”

You opened your eyes, cursing. The pleasure Roger had worked so steadily to build inside you seemed to skyrocket quicker than your body could handle. His cock struck just the right spot inside you with every jagged thrust. And it had you delirious. Nothing could stop you from blurting a garbled, “Please Rogie. Come inside me.” Or from allowing yourself to succumb. Limbs, voice, cunt. All trembling. Until you saw stars. 

When your orgasm subsided, Roger’s weight on top of you became so much more apparent. Squeezing himself tightly against you, grunting in your ear. Knitting both of you together. Your walls still quivered, pushing him along. Despite being on your own comedown, you could feel another wave hitting you. Roger’s resolve gave way, flooding you with rope after rope of his seed until you couldn’t contain it all.

Roger nestled against your neck as his movements stilled, and his breathing slowed down. He chuckled to himself, peppering delicate kisses over your skin. “Think that did the trick?”

Pulling him back by his hair, you narrowed your eyes, feigning seriousness. “We’re very, very out of practice, Rogie.”

Roger’s face was flushed with bashful joy that emphasised the laughter lines around his. “We’re going to need to try again, then,” he suggested. He shuffled down the bed and allowed his lips to skirt over your chest. “Get some practice in until we get it right. You never know, we might have two buns in the oven before the day’s out!” 

You cringed at that statement, squeezing your legs closed fearing your laughter might make a mess of the sheets. His enthusiasm was endearing, though. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Rogie.”

“I know,” he said, spreading your legs for him again. He came to rest between them and lost no time in delving in. Hungry for more, he growled and sucked at your swollen folds, drawing his teeth over them like an animal. “Fuck, you taste so good with my cum oozing out of you.”

How he could flip from joking naively, to becoming completely unhinged in a matter of seconds, was beyond you. It sent your mind spiralling again. With a sharp intake of breath, you arched your back, working yourself against Roger’s mouth as his tongue continued to lap away at your entrance.

Soft cries pierced the moment. Your enjoyment was short-lived.

Roger snapped himself awake. The glimmer of his old self was quickly swapped out as dad mode kicked in again. The lust in his eyes faded to a tired worry, looking out at the hall.

Hiking himself on to his knees, he sighed, “I’ll see to her.” He tugged up the zipper of his jeans and gave you a deep, sloppy kiss that lingered just long enough for you to whine in disappointment the second he pulled away. “You stay there and get some rest.”

Drawing your hand over your lips, wiping away the slick residue, you lay back. You fixed your dress, smoothing it over your thighs, while Roger padded down the hall to your daughter’s room. 

Even before he reached her, he was cooing softly. “It’s okay sweetheart. Dada’s here.” You sighed, listening to Roger reassuring her and carrying her through the hall towards your bedroom. “Who’s in here? Is mum-mum here?”

Her eyes lit up upon seeing you, stretching out her tiny chubby arms. “Mum-mum!”

You sat up straight, crossing your legs as Roger placed her in your lap. Her soft, blonde curls stuck up every which way; they tickled your jawline until you smoothed them down with kisses.

Roger sat at the foot of the bed, taking in the picture of his girls and tilting his head to the side. His eyes flicked to you. “Boy or a girl?”

You smiled. “You’re already thinking about it?”

“I can’t stop, now,” Roger admitted, crawling up beside you. He wrapped his arm around you, propping his chin on your head, kissing your hair.

You cuddled into his chest, just as your daughter did to you. “What do you reckon, sweetheart?” you asked, gazing down at her.

Roger twirled her hair around his fingers. “Are you going to be the best big sister ever?”

The little girl narrowed her eyes, clamouring over your legs to climb up on Roger’s chest. She reached up, giving the ends of his hair a tug. “Nope.”

You and Roger exchanged bewildered glances. 

“I guess she likes being the centre of attention. Don’t you darling?” he beamed, kissing her forehead.

“I wonder where she gets that from.”

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen #queen fic

[aithrauniverse]

Chapter 19-Astra

As the others worked to revive Laila, I backed away to somewhere far, far away from the beast, keeping my eyes trained on the fire opal on its face, and thickening the monster’s light-cage.

The beast roared and plunged into the shield, but it was thrown back with such great force that it landed inches away from the other side of the shield – and that was saying a lot, considering how HUGE I’d made that shield. Hm. Perhaps I should’ve made it less spacious.

Despite that disappointment, the beast still ran straight at the shield again, only to be slammed onto its rear end again.

And it kept the pattern going – run, crash, BANG!

“Got you,” I whispered, “you’re STUBBORN!”

And if I was right, this beast would never give up until it succeeded in doing something the exact way it was going about doing it.

A plan started to form in my head – and a slow smile spread across my face – until I realised what I had to do to execute it.

“Oh, crap.” I breathed, suddenly feeling a million times smaller.

Endra’s face – the sallow, pale face she’d worn in the chamber beneath the hydra’s egg – flickered before my eyes. And she’d rattled those massive chains and said – she'd said - “and now – this is where I remain, cursed never to see the sun rise again.”

“NO!” I bellowed, my breaths coming in short, quick gasps.

I didn’t care what it would take to get that tiny opal on its face. As long as it died – as long as my friends got out of here safely to rescue Endra – even if I... died, it would be worth it.

With that cheerful thought, I scrambled over to the others. “Get far, far away from here – carry Laila, or something. Don’t - don’t go anywhere near me – it won’t be safe. And stay AWAY from the beast. If anything happens-” my voice closed off, and I had to choke the next few words out, “ - leave without me. Just go and free Endra.”

When Aithne and Evan immediately opened their mouths to argue, I held a hand out to shush them. Grasping Aithne’s hand, I looked her straight in the eye. “Please - you know how much Endra helped us. Promise me – promise me, she’ll see the sun again. Don’t - don’t let evil steal another of our loved ones.”

Aithne froze, and I knew she was thinking about her father. I nodded, squeezing her hand tighter. “It’s horrible. But that’s just how some things are. Just please let me do this one last thing, for Endra. And – and Almoria.”

The beast gave another mighty roar, and Aithne snapped out of her daze. She pulled away, and began to scoop Laila’s head up. “We’ll take care of it. Now go... and good luck.” she paused, seeming desperate as she whispered, “Is there really nothing we can do to help?” 

“Yes - help me by staying out of this, please. Only I can do this.” 

I turned to Evan. “Take care of them both.” He nodded warily, slung his quiver of bows back across his back, and turned to pick Laila’s legs up. They ran off into a clearing, and I got to my feet, trying to ignore the crazy way my legs were trembling as I watched the beast get hurled back from the shield once more.

Closing my eyes – allowing myself one final, calming breath, I spun my arm around, and a shield of purple light closed around me, followed by an indigo one, then a blue one, then a green one, a yellow one, an orange one, and a final red one.

Perhaps the full spectrum would protect me enough to be able to see Endra again.

I unfolded my wings and took off into the sky, stopping when I was hovering just above the dragon’s purple shield. Putting two fingers into my mouth, I gave a sharp, piercing whistle, enough to make the beast finally look up.

I forced myself to meet its glowing red eyes, fighting to keep my mind clear as it blew a huge tongue of flame out.

“That’s right... come for me... you know you want to...” I murmured, watching as the beast’s eyes flashed between its own violet shield and the rainbow of colours I was encased in.

At last, its gaze stopped on me, and my heart seemed to stop along with it. I held my breath as it bent its scaly legs, roaring as it poised to jump. With one mighty screech that didn’t seem to match its hulking mass, it leaped up, fire burning in its eyes...

And slammed into its own shield, which threw it back onto the ground in a heap of flailing limbs.

It howled, scrambling to its feet, eyes flashing with malice as blinding, searing flames escaped from its shivering nostrils. This fire was different – it was so, so scorching that I felt like my entire body was on fire, even though I had SEVEN shields to protect me from the heat.

I screamed, thrashing in mid-air as I fought to add more shields, my skin stinging and boiling.

Then, suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the heat disappeared, leaving a cold chill in its place. I clamped my mouth shut, and spun around. I found Laila sitting up with Aithne and Evan supporting her, far away from the beast and I, and she had her hands spread out. It clicked – she must have teleported an icy gust from the Antarctic straight into my shield. Or somewhere cold – for all I knew, she might have teleported it from the fridge in her house.

Giving her a grateful thumbs-up, I turned back to the beast, whose flames had disappeared. It was eyeing me once again, and I saw the fury and obstinacy in its eyes as it spread its wings and lunged for me once more, even as the shield slammed it back onto the ground.

Steeling myself, I raised my arms, and the beast’s shield dissipated into the air.

It must have realised too, for it gave a roar of glee and thrust its body straight for me – the entire hefty mass of scales it was – and I squeezed my eyes shut, a few terrified tears leaking from them as I curled myself up into a ball.

When the beast struck my arsenal of shields, they vibrated so violently that I was sure they would crack under the strain – but then everything stilled, and the only sound was an agonized wail from the beast.

I forced my eyes open, panting as I watched the beast stumble to its feet again, and slammed into the shields again.

And again,

And again.

My shields held strong, and they shook less and less each time the beast collided with them. Clearly, the beast’s initial ability to talk – and think – had disappeared, leaving behind a savage, mindless shell.

Too bad it hadn’t lost its powers as well – with each collision, it screeched and hissed out a bunch of flames that made me insanely grateful for Laila’s cold breezes.  

After the beast had crashed into the shields two more times, I finally realised, smacking myself, that we needed to get this over before the equinox. I looked down at my watch – ten minutes left.

Which meant it was time for me to complete the plan – do the one final thing that might – or might NOT – end this all.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I lifted the first shield – the purple shield – and the beast slammed its weight onto the indigo shield, which still held fast, despite losing its companion.

It felt like everything had disappeared – like I was watching everything before me as a high-resolution movie, and it was at the part right before the climax, where all the tension was building, up, and up, and up...

One by one, I let go of my trusty shields, and the beast ricocheted off the shield behind each dome of light I removed.

Until, at last, I was left with the final shield, glowing an eerie red just like the eyes of the beast.

With a menacing wail, the dragon spread its wings and took off, circling above where I hovered, the opal on its forehead glinting in the light of the fiery breath that it expelled.

Somewhere far off in the distance, I heard Aithne scream, “Don’t do it, Astra!” She must have caught on to my plan. The girl had a pretty big brain - but she’d always seemed unwilling to make good use of it.

Evan’s panicked voice pierced the night, “There must be something else – don't unravel the shield- “ he scrambled to his feet, reaching for his bow and arrows.

Before the three shadowy figures behind me could move, I snapped my fingers, and a ball of light knocked Evan back as another dome of purple light slammed into place over the three of them.

The three of them hammered against the shield, but it didn’t budge. Their pleas got louder and more desperate, but I closed my eyes, letting their voices fade to nothing more than a hum in the background. Satisfied, I turned my gaze back to the beast.

It wasn’t looking at me, however – the purple glow of Aithne, Laila and Evan’s shield had distracted it from me, and now it was focused on them.

The dragon drew itself up to its full height, and let loose a ground-shaking roar as it pivoted to face the violet dome.

“NO!” I screamed, searching frantically for something to lure its attention back.

Ignoring me, the beast started to charge towards the others.

I reached into my pocket, and plucked a petal from the lotus Aithne had given me, shoving it into my mouth. It tasted HORRIBLE – like bitter medicine plus vomit and your dear old granny’s daily vitamins. But as I choked it down, my mind seemed to take over, and it was through pure instinct that I swirled my right arm in a circle.

A dome of fire appeared, and fell into place over the beast.

The beast yowled in pain as it smashed into the fire, and rolled over, bellowing murderously when it saw its cage of flames.

Its eyes met mine, and when I took the flames away, it ignored Aithne, Laila and Evan - who were still screaming at me -, slowly turning to face me instead, clearly wanting vengeance.

“Come and get your revenge... You know you want it... I’m here...” I whispered.

Forcing myself to keep my eyes open, I watched as it spread its wings and headed for where I hovered with my red shield.

Slowly at first... then faster, and faster, and, a few meters away from me, its mouth curled into a smirk.

I clenched my fists, staring at its fiery opal of power closed in, waiting for the perfect timing to strike.

Finally, right before its gigantic head crashed into the light, I unraveled my fists, and the red light disappeared. I hurled myself onto its forehead, my eyes fixated on one thing only: the opal.

Reaching out a hand, I felt myself slam into a rock-hard, BOILING mass of scales, but I ignored the pain, my fingers grasping for the round stone. Once they found it - the icy cold surface cooling the blisters on my hand, I gripped the opal and pulled, and it snapped off the dragon’s forehead in a flurry of red sparks.  

Relief coursed through me – but it was quickly replaced by shock as the opal exploded right in my palm, while at the same time the dragon collapsed to the ground with a wail that sounded like a deflating balloon.

Within milliseconds, the shimmering opal changed from a harmless little gemstone into a hissing, smoking, burning mess that scorched my hand, causing even more angry red welts to pop up.

Shrieking, I flung it away, but another huge pile of flames burst up from it before it landed on the ground, and a shock wave knocked me away from the crumbling dragon.

I crashed head-first feet away from the purple glow of Aithne, Laila and Evan’s shield, the rough gravelly surface of the ground being the last thing I felt before the screaming and hissing all around me faded to nothing but darkness.

#story #stories #storywriting #writers on tumblr #write #writer #writers #writers of tumblr #writing #fiction #fictional #fiction story #fictional story #mythical #mythology #mythical creature #humor #humour #drama #fantasy #fantasy story #astra :D #school project