#its a first shaky handholding

[homoangel]

me when i want something

really really bad

#its the way that the eyefucking isnt just fucking its both timid and tender and passionate lovemaking #its a first shaky handholding #its almost mournful tongue kissing because even though they are already having each other they also miss each other #like the other could never be close enough like they could spend forever wrapped up in each other and still long for more #its like their eyes are fucking each other for the first and the last and the millionth time #their eyes are doing all that #5x3 spn #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #angelrot #aaand post

[moony-to-ur-pads]

TOGETHER

remus angst & wolfstar fluff (a strange combo). shrieking shack right-before-the-moon stuffs <3. for @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: full moon

in the shrieking shack, nothing stirs, and nothing speaks.

to remus, it is quiet, but not silent. the air hums at his ears, taut, stretched thin, buzzing with the promise of soon.

in the not-total-silence, two boys sit together on the seat of a broken old grand piano, backs to the yellowed out-of-tune keys, eyes peering through the cracks in the planks of the boarded-up window. blue evening light seeps in around the slats.

remus taps his foot against the floorboards in a metronomic tap tap tap. he crosses his arms and rubs them, working some life into the stiffness. he drags himself to his feet and starts to pace, heart thudding in his ears, breathing heavy and rasping, feeling that vibrating grow louder, heavier by the minute. soon.

“remus.”

his voice is firm, clear. a knife’s edge through the vibrating buzzing mess that surrounds remus, threatens to drown him. his eyes snap to the boy on the stool, and their gazes meet.

it is not much. one word, one look. but it is all remus needs. he meets sirius’ gaze, and everything falls dead silent.

there is nothing except sirius.

his eyes are inlaid full moons, remus thinks. they are round, and silver, and shining with a light that is calm and quiet and cold.

they couldn’t be more different from their owner.

sirius is loud. he is love, burning passion and warmth; he is the beauty and grace in a howling dark-sky storm; he is one moment rushing into the next in a clumsy tirade that doesn’t seem to want to catch its breath.

so different from those cold, still eyes.

as if his very existence is a cry against them. his eyes are the black’s, not his. they are his father’s—nobly polished and kept clean on the mantelpiece—and his mother’s—prized above all else and carefully sheltered for its fragility—and they are his brother’s, too, as much as sirius hates it. but they are not his. he will not let them be his.

remus, waiting in that tense taut vibrating silence for the final climax of the moment, has never felt more intrinsically and fundamentally linked to sirius. both of them, the same. consumed by a quiet rebellion against their natures.

sirius had his moons—they were cold and dark and they hurt him—and he fought every moment of every day to be placed as far as possible from that. and rightfully so. sirius was anything but that.

remus, he had his moons too, obviously. his battle was a little less metaphorically glorious. it was more bloody, mundane, cyclic and inescapable.

remus glances back at the boarded window. the blue light is deeper, darker. not as if the light has receded, more as if it has bled into something thicker and blacker. it is acrid with anticipation, buzzing with tension.

a creak of a floorboard, and before remus has time to turn, there is a fiery warmth curling in his hand. he glances down, and long piano-player’s fingers intertwine with his in a gentle, careful hold.

something in his chest loosens, and remus lets out a low, shaky breath.

“fuck, i’m scared,” he says.

sirius doesn’t say anything. the handhold tightens, and he leans into remus’ side.

his warmth isn’t just a guard against the cold. it is reassurance, a promise, a quiet proclamation that is louder than if sirius had screamed it from the top of the astronomy tower.

they would fight their moons. and they would fight them together.

“thank you,” remus whispers.

sirius smiles. remus cannot see it, but he knows it. “i love you,” he says. the darkness that seeps through the slats goes suddenly silver, bright.

remus gasps.

another squeeze. “good bloody luck, darling.”

“i love you too, pads,” remus says.

and he lets go of sirius’ hand in time for the first, painful strike.

#wolfstar fic #wolfstar fluff #sirius black #marauders era #remus lupin #marauders #wolfstar #marauders fic #remus angst #moony #padfoot #moony x padfoot

[coffee-n-spite]

Meeting Rey and BB-8

I was tired and my brain got stuck on that Rey and Finn as part of Hondo’s pirate crew prompt from ages ago and I write... so have a glimpse of this that I will inevitably continue when it’s again 3 am and I cannot sleep. Oh yeah I’m a commissionable writer...

  “Oh this, this is gold! Should get me at least a portion,” They clambered through the last unburied chamber of the Starcruiser. The hyperdrive chamber. She grinned wide at the sight of a complete reactor core. Everything else she’d managed to grab had maybe amounted to two quarter portions two days' meals that could be stretched if she barely ate. She disassembled everything around it as carefully as she could removing the mostly round component before placing everything back as orderly as they could.

  She slung the reactor into the mesh bag and began the clamber out of the cruiser. 

  “Now for the hard part,” she grabbed her makeshift staff using it to swing the bag up and over the vertical. Easy to get down and in, not so easy to climb back out. With the weighty treasure now safely above she scrambled to find purchase points and begins the climb. One, two, three.

  “Gah,” a hand came loose and blood dribbled down, “Shit, right this used to be a floor. Handholds are probably sharp, real smart Rey.”

  Rey hoists herself without the use of her injured hand groaning as she manages to flop over the edge onto the slight platform. Right what do I have to wrap that with, she gazes at the injury before sighing. Just this once? She concentrates on the wound and wills the small cut to begin closing, she never knew what this ability was, just that she once saw someone else use it felt the energy around how it worked and using her talent for reverse engineering decided to try it. When it had worked she was shocked, it had been a broken thumb, practically a death sentence on Jakku. Gone without a trace. She also knew that she couldn’t tell anyone. 

  “Just gotta get to the speeder without further incident,” she grabs her things and begins the tightrope esque walk to the sand. Thudding into said sand was rougher than she expected, still manageable though inconvenient. Fumbling her first steps slightly she reaches her speeder.  

  Her cargo attached Rey starts her speeder and despite its shaky nature heads for the port town. 

**********

  BB-8 let out a low buzzing woop. He landed the ship as close as he safely could to the unstable dunes, but it had well and truly sunk by the time he had arrived. He conducts a quick scan hoping for any life signs but there are none to be found. 

  It was logical to conclude that Poe had died in the crash, at least BB-8 hoped that was the cause of his death, not the sand consuming him. He whirls once before turning away, his ship wasn’t able to continue flight but staying with it would increase his chance of rescue. He held vital information and he had to deliver it or Poe would be dead for nothing.

  The dunes were feeling endless even for the droid. BB-8, programmed with near sentience but endless patience was feeling the need to speed up. He’s been going for an hour when he picks up a noise. A speeder. He starts beeping frantically heading quickly towards the noise. 

*********

  Rey speeds along the dunes, hoping to be back in the port before the impending sandstorm. She doesn’t know how she knows when a storm is coming but she always does. Jakku has no weather systems, no broadcasts, so any warning is quite the blessing. 

  Something glints in the sand ahead, somewhat distant but still determinedly small and light in colour. It’s in my path so I can investigate, the thought was heavy in Rey’s head an impending sandstorm was a large threat but something like that could be worth a month's worth of food. She kicked her speeder to the highest speed. Something it could not hold for too long judged by how intensely the exhaust rumbles. 

  Rather quickly she is but a few meters from what was now obviously enough a droid. A BB model if she was up to date. 

  “Hello there, what is a little guy like you doing out here?” Rey shut down the engine to hear the replying chirrups from the droid, “Now that does sound like an awful time. The main port is only a couple hours that way by speeder. Maybe I can help you find your friend there?” 

  BB-8 as Rey understood from his beeps and chitters, she would have checked his serial number except it had been scratched off. 

  “Well, can you attach to the speeder, BB-8?” a best effort to interpret beeps, “I am mostly sure that was a yes. There is a sandstorm on the way so you should clip on or whatever so we can get to the port.”

#starwars #fanfic #commisions open #I'm Australian the spelling is fine #Yes this will be Finn/Poe but don't even breathe at me about Reylo #it's not happening #I will be killing off Ren we hate him in this house #no questions at this time #If it gets finished in some fever dream she'll probably be on AO3 #sequel trilogy #the force awakens

[lynnpaper]

idk if you’re still taking prompts but if you are: can you do “there’s something on your shirt. you—that’s blood!” and/or “let’s get you cleaned up and in bed” with anakin and ahsoka?? 💖💖💖💖 love your hurt/comfort with these two

from these prompts

i can, i hope, do that. 💕

read it on AO3

The gunship jolts and Ahsoka stumbles, her knuckles whitening as she grips the handhold tighter. She is nowhere as tall as the clones or her master—her arm aches where she has to stretch to reach it.

Too long—they’ve been here too long. Haven’t slept for too long. Haven’t eaten for too long.

“Careful,” Anakin says. He places a hand on her shoulder, as if it will steady her at all. If he looks hard enough, he can almost see her adrenaline crashing, see the exhaustion sinking into her bones with every passing second.

Hold on, he thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud, because of course Ahsoka doesn’t want the rest of the 501st to hear the admission that she’s only barely holding it together right now. The last thing she needs is a group of overprotective vod’e fawning over their little commander, or having to witness Anakin literally tear her out of their overprotective arms.

Not that she wouldn’t appreciate it, but—

The gunship jolts again. Ahsoka winces, staggering in place. Before she can lose her grip on the handhold, an arm slides its way around her waist, tugging her against a solid, warm body, still smelling of scored carbon and engine grease and ozone.

Anakin keeps his eyes trained on the wall opposite, but Ahsoka looks at him gratefully, leaning into his side.

Then the brightness of the hangar sparks a new headache behind her eyes, and she’s walking down the ramp on shaky legs, and one of her sabers is bumping against a bruise on her thigh which isn’t as painful as it should be. She stands beside Anakin with her hands clasped behind her back (to hide the way they tremble, of course) as he debriefs his men and gives the final orders for ship maintenance and repairs, but nothing truly sticks.

She counts to four-hundred-and-twenty-seven before Anakin turns to look at her at last.

“Ahsoka?” he presses. He raises a hand and snaps it a couple times in front of her face.

Ahsoka sways a little, blinking dazedly, and Anakin wraps his hands around each of her arms before she can topple.

He slowly leads her back to his quarters, a palm pressed between her shoulder blades. It must be a little uncomfortable; cold durasteel under a glove. But when Anakin takes his hand away in the middle of a crowded corridor, she stops and looks up at him with a puzzled expression, and it is only when he replaces it and gently nudges her forward again that she gathers enough thought to move her legs once more.

The realisation hits him far too slowly—that he overlooked this, that she’s so tired that she’s conserving her strength just to walk, and he’d gone ahead and yelled at her to keep up while blaster bolts rained down on them from all different directions.

Anakin leaves her halfway to unconsciousness on the couch in his quarters. He finds clothes for her in her room, padawan tunics and robes she never wears, in a drawer she never touches. Ahsoka would never ask for him to take the trouble, or to go out of his way to coddle her, except he’s not—it’s not coddling. And it’s no trouble at all.

When he returns, she hasn’t moved at all, save for her head slumped against the armrest.

It must be a violation of multiple galactic laws to wake her.

Anakin taps her shoulder once, twice. Ahsoka scrunches her face in displeasure before turning her head away and sluggishly blinking awake again. Her gaze lands on the bundle of clothes under his arm, and Anakin can almost feel the needle of guilt worming its way into her chest.

Anakin searches her vacant expression for any sign of his words registering at all, and finds none.

He hopes she doesn’t hear him sigh inwardly. “Lets clean you up and get you to bed, okay?”

Ahsoka nods faintly.

Maybe he should be concerned that she does not protest when he all but drags her to his room, retrieves a damp washcloth from the fresher, and sits on the edge of the bed so he’s level with her before wiping the dirt and grime from her face. Ahsoka keeps her eyes trained on the far wall, closing them when the cloth brushes too close to her eyelids, flinching when it rubs against the cut on her brow—which he’d missed previously, because it had been obscured by more dirt.

Anakin sighs.

Ahsoka shies away, pushing at his hand weakly. Force, if he doesn’t want to waste his time doing this then he shouldn’t. She can manage herself—

“Hey,” Anakin says sternly, catching her wrist.

She risks a glance up at him, tracking the bits of dirt staining the cloth in his hand, and a more vibrant spot of almost-dry blood. The last thing she wants is for Anakin to be acting out of a… misguided sense of duty, or something.

“Stop that,” Anakin says.

Ahsoka huffs.

“You’re thinking very loudly.” Anakin gently turns her head with a finger against her jaw, rubbing at a spot on her lek, and she shivers. “Okay?” he asks, gentler this time.

Ahsoka nods. The washcloth touches her face once more.

Anakin loses track of how long his padawan stands there, dead on her feet. At some point her fingers close around his arm as her legs threaten to give out again, and he pulls her forward as gently as he can, trying to remember how they got here in the first place.

The clasp on her belt is easy to undo, but he knows she would probably fumble with it in her state. Anakin debates helping her peel off the rest of her clothes altogether, stained with the red dust from the ground of the planet they’d come from.

But—yes. No. Yes. Her dignity can wait, he thinks. Sleep cannot, and neither can his nerves. It’s not selfish, he tries to convince himself, that he wants her to be clean and comfortable before she sleeps— and she doesn’t have to be clean to be comfortable, but it certainly helps—

Anakin reaches for the fabric bunched at her waist before his mind can go to battle with itself. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen it all already—there is no dignity in war, or in makeshift medbays on desolate planets, or in transparent bacta tanks. Still, he turns her around before pulling her tunic over her shoulders—if he can preserve a little bit of what they will all lose inevitably then he will—and looks away to take a clean tunic from the pile, keeping his hands far from her body as he hands it to her and she slips her arms through the sleeves.

Still, Ahsoka doesn’t complain or even try to cover herself—Anakin wonders if she even cares, and if it should worry him if she doesn’t. She’s a teenager, and teenagers are supposed to care about things like this.

But she will never really have a chance to be a teenager. She does not act like one at all, sometimes—a soldier, perhaps, but not a child.

It’s difficult to tamp down on the dread in his gut when he wraps a hand around her upper arm and his fingers very nearly overlap. Military rations will never be enough.

He turns her around again and she follows without thinking, and then there’s the warm numbness of bacta on the cut on her forehead and the soft familiarity of a palm on her cheek, and the resounding rush of warmth comes with a rush of momentary coherence.

Ahsoka blinks again, almost as if she’s blinking tears away, as if she is only now realising that the firm pressure on her back had been his palm, and the gentle nudges had been his hand, and the fleeting loneliness of Anakin leaving her in his quarters had only been an excuse for him to retrieve her kriffing clothes. “Master. I apologise, I—”

Oh, this again.

“Shh,” Anakin whispers.

“You don’t need to—”

“Quiet, Ahsoka.” I apologise is the first thing she’s said since they returned, and his chest tightens because it is, of course, an apology. Ahsoka only apologises when she has nothing else to say, or when she feels that she’s done something wrong—which she hasn’t—so really he should be the one apologising for taking forever to get to her in the first place—

“I’m sorry,” she says again, and a flicker of surprise flits across her face, as if she cannot believe the betrayal of her own voice against her.

“Boots,” Anakin replies, instead of it’s alright; don’t apologise; you’ve nothing to be sorry for.

Ahsoka tugs them off and dumps them unceremoniously at the foot of the bed. With the realisation of what she’s just done—as well as its implications—comes a confused frown, furrowing its way onto her brow. “Am I—” she glances around the room, like she hasn’t seen it a hundred and one times already. The weariness is back, ebbing from the curl of her fingers beside her aching thighs, slipping from the effort it takes to keep her eyes open.

“Yes,” Anakin says.

Her shoulders slump in relief.

It’s times like this that Anakin wishes he’d never lost his hand—pulling the blanket over her thighs, where he knows she very cleverly managed to hide a couple of bruises, as his palm lingers on her too-small shoulder. He wishes he could feel more than her pulse under the sensors of his durasteel fingers.

“Don’t need to fuss,” Ahsoka says distantly, more to herself than Anakin, who pulls the blanket over her shoulders just as she tucks her chin closer to her chest.

Tired, her mind supplies unhelpfully.

Anakin folds the blanket under her lek. “You did very well today,” he whispers.

It is one thing to understand she has done well. An undeniable claim, if the remnants of those droids littering the ground had anything to prove. But to hear it from him—

“Thank you,” Ahsoka says.

A heavy hand settles on her shoulder, over the blanket. The weight grounds her, the pillow a fraction softer under her mildly spinning head.

Ahsoka hums softly, lashes fluttering. You did very well.

I know, she thinks. I know.

#lynn writes #my writing #post-trauma sentence starters #snips and skyguy #hurt/comfort #writing prompts

[mrsalwayswrite]

Sunlight (Bucky Barnes x OFC)

I wrote this for @geekandbooknerd​ birthday challenge! Yay! I know its a bit early but happy birthday! 

My prompt was “If there is anything, there is us. You and me. No one else.”- Jennifer L. Armentrout, Onyx. 

It kind of turned into a Avengers/X-Men crossover. So some mentions of X-Men characters but mostly about Bucky & OFC. 

Warnings: slight angst, brief mention of torture, all the fluff! 

Words: 3400

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Bucky stormed up to his best friend, leaving terrified SHIELD agents in his wake. He did not care about the scene he was making in the hallway of the Avengers Compound. His fear and fury overrode his concern to stay calm.

 "She ran off. Soon as we touched down, I tri…."

 Bucky turned on his heels, ready to sprint. He had to find her. He could listen to excuses and rational later. His mind and body drove him towards only one thing- to seek her out and offer comfort...until a hand clasped his shoulder, keeping him still. 

 "I'm sorry, Buck. We thought...I thought…" Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He still wore his dirty uniform, not even having had a chance to clean up from the mission yet. "Things didn't go as planned. She did well. She...she was a help to have on the mission. Please let her know that."

 The brunet could only nod, every cell in his being screaming at him to go find his girl. Soon as Steve removed his hand, Bucky took off. 

 People practically leapt out of his way...which was smart on their account. He was not above running people over right now. He was used to his friends teasing him about his murder strut- their term, not his- about how it made people either run in fear of their lives or hyperventilate with lust. He tried to not think about it too much. Although it did have its uses on occasion. 

 Bursting out the nearest outside door, he ran using all his super soldier speed. He knew where she would be. More than one time she had called it a safe place, especially when it was sunny out. The buildings for the Avengers Compound flew by him. He vaguely thought he heard someone call his name but it did not matter. He had to get to his girl. 

 The first hints of autumn could be seen in the trees surrounding the Compound. Most were still green but swatches of color peeked through with their yellows and oranges. The underbrush made each step he took in his combat boots sound like a herd of elephants walked by but now he did not have to focus on moving silently. He wore tactical pants and a black t-shirt, having been working on extra security measures for the Avengers building when Steve called him. Immediately he dropped the StarkPad and ran, ignoring those he had been working with. 

 He passed the giant elm tree that always seemed otherworldly to him...then he could see her. He always wondered what made this spot special. There was nothing unique about it in the forest surrounding the Compound...except for a giant ass boulder. Deciduous trees surrounded the spot, creating an almost nature-made barricade around the small open area with the boulder in the middle. Sunlight shown directly on it, uninterrupted by branches or leaves. It almost looked like the eye of a hurricane, and maybe that was why she always came to this spot. It was peaceful. 

 And there she sat looking like a fairy from a children's story, minus the wings. Her Nordic blonde hair danced about her in the slight breeze, the long stands almost hypnotic in their movements. Her face was turned upward, facing the afternoon sun, like a flower seeking its warmth. Her slender arms were wrapped around her legs, her alabaster skin on full display with her bare feet, black leggings and navy tank top. She must have ditched the outer part of her uniform and ran, not even bothering to go back to her room to change first. 

 Standing just on the edge of the tree line, he could only stare, taken back by her beauty once again. He wished he was artistic like Steve to paint or sketch her. That he could somehow show her how gorgeous she was to him, to erase all those self-doubts she harbored still. Instead he strove to remind her every day in whatever way he could. 

 "Leyna!" He called out, having moved out of the trees into the open area surrounding the boulder. 

 She turned her head briefly to meet his eyes then turned her face back upward, soaking in the sunlight. 

 That quick look had been enough for him to see the dried tear streaks on her cheeks. He clambered up the rock, continuously amazed at how she was able to navigate the damn thing when she was so small. He was almost a foot taller than her and the stupid rock was tricky for him between the lack of handholds, lichen and moss that covered it. It was at least twice as tall as him, and three times as wide in some strange skinny oval shape. It vaguely reminded him of the kind of stones that were good for skipping rocks on top of water, but on a giant scale. 

 Once up, he walked towards where she sat in the middle, feeling the heat of the sun hitting him anew. Without a word, he sat behind her, placing himself so her back was to his chest, his legs outstretched and his flesh arm wrapped around her waist. Silently she leaned back into him, still facing the sun, eyes closed. He laid his cheek against the top of her head, his metal arm outstretched to stabilize them. 

 The only sounds were those of the birds singing around them, the occasional shout coming from the direction of the Compound and their own breathing. It was peaceful. Something both of them craved instinctively. 

 He waited for her, knowing this was more than just a quiet place to be. There was her place to "recharge", as she liked to call it, both physically and mentally. After several minutes, a faint golden shimmer surrounded her hands. Slowly she held out one of her hands and moved her fingers as if in a dance. 

 Watching her use her powers was one of his favorite things to do. She tried to explain it to him once, how her powers worked. Something how she could manipulate light photons and atoms to change their structure to become whatever she wished, either a solid creation or an illusion. It was about three PhD degrees above his head but he got the gist. He smiled remembering when she first met Bruce Banner and how the man almost wet himself, he was so excited to run experiments and lab tests on her and her powers. Bucky had never seen the man so thrilled. Then the time she met Loki and he learned she could do illusions also. He had jumped at the chance of a competition between them that left the Compound in a strange golden, greenish haze for two days because of the amount of magic used and atoms/photons messed with for the insane amount of illusions created. 

 Using both hands, she twirled and manipulated them in front of her, using the direct sunlight to create something. Sunlight was her life source. Yes, she needed to eat and drink like anyone else but she always joked she was like a solar-powered being. Without sunlight her powers faded to nothing and she would wither away. 

 His eyes remained glued to her hands as she worked, curious as to what she was making now. With a final flourish, a long dagger lay across her palms, dwarfing her hands. The handle was the deepest black while the blade itself had a slight curve and shone a brilliant silver in the sunlight. It had a slight etching on the silver that looked like artistic flames running along the outside. 

 "That one might be my new favorite." He nuzzled her neck, thoroughly enjoying the way she squirmed and giggled. He loved when she made him shiny, sharp things. 

 "Maybe I'll make you a matching set."

 He took the dagger from her, eyeing it hungrily before slipping it into his boot. Good thing the training room was open at all hours. He planned on experimenting with it later. 

 They sat in silence for a few more minutes before she spoke, drawing lazy circles on his arm still around her waist. 

 "Steve call you?"

 "He was worried." He kissed her hair lightly. "Wanna talk about it?"

 He could feel her hesitation then the story was whispered into the wind, her voice shaky. "There was a cell...I got separated from the others...Some...um, a few HYDRA soldiers managed to taze me, get me down...they covered my eyes...and got a chain on my wrist…" She took a deep breath, he squeezed her, knowing how hard this was for her. "Steve found me at that point, he took them out and helped me get away."

 "Oh baby, I'm so sorry." It was only after she mentioned her wrist, he peeked over her shoulder to see her right wrist that looked raw and red. Seeing her injury, he clenched his metal fist. Fury rolled through him like a steam train, anger at both HYDRA for trying to take her from him and himself for not being there to protect her. He pulled her closer to him with both arms, needing the reassurance she was still here, with him. 

 "I don't think I can do this anymore, Bucky." She suddenly choked out, tears falling afresh. "I don't...I can't go through that again. I'm not strong enough."

 "Leyna…we all have our triggers that remind us of our pasts. No one blames you."

 "I put the mission in danger."

 "Steve said you did well and that you were a help."

 She shook her head. "I don't think I can keep doing this."

 They sat in silence. He understood what was going through her mind. Hell, he dealt with it himself on a regular basis. The question of how much of one's past could still haunt their future. 

 Leyna had been found by the X-Men when they took down a cult who were kidnapping mutants. She had been chained to a wall in complete darkness, refused any source of sunlight or artificial light for months on end until she either gave them the information they wanted or she died. The X-Men had brought her back to the mutant school where she stayed to recover, since when they found her, she was barely conscious. When Charles examined her mind, he discovered she was not a mutant but an enhanced like Wanda Maximoff, though where she got her powers was unknown. Just over two years after being rescued and residing at the mutant school, Charles thought sending her to the Avengers would be the best for her and to begin creating a working relationship between the Avengers and the X-Men. Leyna was to be a sort of liaison between the two groups constantly saving the world. 

 It had been a year since she joined the Avengers and everyone acknowledged how quickly she fit it. Almost like she had been a missing puzzle piece that they had not realized was missing. 

 "Do...do you think they'll send me back? To Charles? He sent me here to help but…" Her voice dropped off, fear and uncertainty evident. 

 "I am sure the Professor would understand. And there are more ways than one to help. You don't have to be out in the field to be useful. I know I prefer when you don't go on missions. Sam had to sit on me this time so I wouldn't stow away on the ship and come with you."

 She giggled, her head resting on his shoulder. "I feel the same way when you leave for a mission. Wanda and I used to get drunk but after the...electrical incident, we're not allowed to anymore."

 He chuckled, "so that's what happened, huh? You guys said you tried to combine your powers or something."

 "Remember, we were drunk and apparently decided we wanted to have a dance party. So, I tried to create a disco ball and stroke lights while she was trying to do something with the music...but it all backfired."

 He openly laughed at that. "Doll, the two of you managed to blow out all the electricity in the Compound and even put FRIDAY offline for a bit. Tony was furious. Hell, I heard Wanda's room had to be completely renovated because of the power surge that went through it. Thankfully it had reinforced, special walls or whatever Tony calls them."

 "Why do you think she's been sleeping in Vision's room?"

 "That was...what, three months ago? And it's still not fixed?"

 She shrugged. "She doesn't feel rushed to return to her own room. "

 They lapsed back into silence, his arms still around her. Her face was still upturned, soaking in the afternoon sun. He watched her profile, in awe that someone as pure, selfless and fun would ever look at him twice. As he stared, he could see her lips pursing slightly while her brow furrowed. It broke his heart that she still struggled with such self-doubt. 

 "Leyna, turn around." At her hesitation, he ran his lips softly over the corner of her jaw. "Please."

 Slowly, she did. Turning around to straddle his waist, she wrapped her arms around his neck while his own hands gripped her hips to hold her. 

 "Look at me."

 It was only after his quiet command that she finally lifted her gaze from his chest. Her violet eyes always enthralled him, calling to some deep primitive part that wanted to bask in her light for the rest of his life. 

 "We're not gonna kick you out if you come off the field. Hell, you are one of our best at recon and observation. If that's all you want to do, the others will understand. Natasha will probably buy you a bottle of that Russian vodka that she loves cause she won't be the only one sent on those kinds of missions anymore. And even if that is too much, you have a great mind for tactics and seeing things others don't. You would be a benefit for working in the control room while we're on a mission. You'd have our backs still and could keep an eye out for things we might miss."

 "Charles sent me to help…" She hedged but he was having none of that. He gripped her chin, holding her gaze, hoping she would believe him and stay. Not just for the Avengers...but for him. 

 "And you would be. You've always been a huge help… Or would you prefer to go back to the School? Is that what you would prefer? I'm sure Logan would prefer that. He still hasn't forgiven me for having you be my girl."

 "He hasn't tried to kill you though."

 "What do you call what happened last time he came to check on you?" He demanded, eyeing her smirk. "Just a misunderstanding?"

 She laughed, massaging the back of his neck. "He only destroyed the couch. It could have been far worse."

 "Yeah, and I had been sitting on that couch! His claws were inches from my head!" 

 "Mmm...good thing you have such great reflexes." She leaned forward and pressed a teasing kiss to his lips. 

 His hands tightened on her hips. "Babydoll, you do that again and I'll show you what other great reflexes I have."

 "Outside?"

 "What? Ain't nobody around?"

 She swatted his chest, laughing before laying her head on his shoulder. "And if I just wanted to be with you? Not do anything...just be here with you?"

 "If there is anything, there is us. You and me. No one else." He lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes, the sunlight making them glow. "We can do whatever we want. Go wherever we want. Just us."

 "Mmm...and Steve." She hummed, tracing a finger lazily on his chest. 

 "What?"

 "You and me...and Steve. There is no way Steve would let us go off alone. He would miss his best friend too much and is too stubborn to let you go. He'd leave the Avengers first. Then Sam would be all offended and come along too since he and Steve are also best friends and I think secretly you and Sam are best friends but neither wants to acknowledge it. Natasha would hunt us down next. You know Peter would send us more of those little videos but they would be all sad and puppy eyes since wherever we are, I'm sure his Aunt May would not let him come. Plus, he's like the little brother I've always wanted… If Natasha finds us, Clint will show up eventually. Then Scott would too since Steve is with us. I swear I've never seen a bigger fangirl than Scott. Tony would crash at some point because well, it's Tony…"

 He cut her off, chuckling because however much he wanted to deny it. It was true. "Ok ok, I get the picture. Christ. I think we need some new friends."

 "Like Logan?"

 "I still can't believe you dated the Wolverine. I feel I should question your taste in men."

 "Hey! It was short lived and we both realized we were better as friends. Sides, if we're worried about my taste in men, what does that say about you?" She teased, a smile on her lips. 

 "You go for the tall, dark and handsome." 

 "That applies to Logan too...mmm...maybe I just prefer old guys?"

 "Alright, that's it!" He stood up, throwing her over his shoulder. "I come out here to take care of my best girl and what do I get...insults!" Carefully he jumped down to the ground, making sure not to jostle her too much with the impact. He started back towards the Compound, trying to control the smile on his face while listening to Leyna laughing over his shoulder. "See if I share my ice cream with you tonight."

 "Bucky…" she whined, wiggling against him, "that's mean."

 "Old guys...you've been spending too much time with Sam. Really need to get some new friends." He muttered mostly to himself. 

 "Put me down, Bucky."

 He set her on a nearby stump so she was actually eye level to him. Carefully he ran a hand through her blonde hair, loving that she let him play with it. "You know I meant it, what I said earlier."

 "I know, love." She cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

 He eagerly kissed her back, diving into her affections without hesitation. He loved the way she fit in his arms, the way her lips glided against his, how his heart threatened to explode with joy with just the mere thought of her. Although they had not yet said those three little words to one another, he knew it was true for him. She was perfect for him, and although she had her quirks that annoyed him and her own haunted past that gave her nightmares, he would not change anything about her.

 Finally, they broke apart, both breathing a little more heavily and dopey smiles on both their faces. He would love to stay here with her, just the two of them and kiss her senseless or until he removed any self-doubt she still struggled with. The Avengers' part of his mind reminded him that she had run out to the forest before the debrief which would be a headache in itself if they did not return soon. He sighed, lamenting that this moment had to end. "Come on, doll. Let's get you back. Steve will want to check in with you."

 "Ok…"

 He stepped away for her to jump down but she did not move. 

 "Doll…" That grin on her face spelled trouble, he just knew it. 

 "I'm tired...can you give me a piggyback ride?"

 He raised an eyebrow at her. 

 She smiled sweetly, hands clasped in front of her and swaying slightly. Between the delicate features, small stature and purple eyes, she really did look like a damn fairy. 

 "Fine…"

 She squealed as she climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Just as he thought about protesting loudly, she smacked a loud kiss on his cheek then giggled. Who was he kidding, he would do anything for her. 

 If he had to give a few death glares and mild threats in the future to suppress jokes about the Winter Soldier giving piggyback rides…that was not his fault. 

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Hayley'sBirthday #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #james barnes x ofc #fluff #mzwrites

[takerfoxx]

Blood Island, Chapter 2

It’s sort of funny how fear can sometimes provide a shield against itself. In any other circumstance, Nuriel would never have dared rush into such a thick and wild jungle in the dead of night. That was just asking to end up as something’s midnight snack. But the shock of seeing that sea-creature emerge from the surf had put all of that out of her mind, and before she remembered what a bad idea running loudly and blindly was, she had already gone in far deeper than could be considered sane.

But remember she did, mainly when a deep, resonant roar echoed through the trees, one that stirred up the island’s nightlife and sent them hollering. Birds screeched, monkeys whooped and hollered, and things that Nuriel had never even heard before joined in with the yelping, growling, and…chirping, or something close to it. Nuriel immediately froze in place. The roar hadn’t come from behind her. Rather, it had come from…somewhere pretty far off, so there was that at least. And none of the animals taking part in the tumult sounded like they were nearby either.

Still, what in the Great Gassy Hell was that?! Nuriel had been to many different places and seen many strange and exotic animals. She had heard the vicious snarls of tigers; the deep, guttural bellows of bears; and the raspy roars of lions. But she had never heard anything like that. The closest she could think of was the roar of a grizzly bear, but this was so much louder, so much more powerful, like it had the rough edges shaved off and blasted through an elephant’s trumpet.

Slowly the clamor died down, leaving nothing but the odd bird call and the chirping of insects. Nuriel cast a fearful glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to meet the emerald gaze of the sea-creature.

The path had so far been fairly straight, wide, and clean, but even so she could not see the break in the trees that opened to the beach. In fact, she couldn’t see much of anything at all. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, but even so they could barely make out anything other than vague silhouettes.

On the one hand, that meant that she hadn’t been followed. Good. Maybe the sea-creature really was bound to the water. On the other hand, she had kind of fled headlong into a dark jungle, one that was apparently packed with all kinds of savage wildlife.

Shit.

Nuriel glanced around. No, she still couldn’t make anything out. In fact, she had sort of gotten turned around and probably couldn’t find her way back to the beach even if she wanted to.

Grimacing, Nuriel took a hesitant step forward. She reached out with her hand, hoping to feel something that wouldn’t bite, claw, sting, lick, crush, or swallow her.

Her hands brushed against wood. A tree.

Nuriel patted around the tree’s trunk. It seemed pretty solid, but also plenty gnarled in that way jungle trees got. Maybe…

Gripping it with both hands, Nuriel pulled herself off the ground. Then she began to climb.

With as much time sneaking in and out of places as she did, Nuriel was quite the proficient climber, but even she found hoisting herself up a strange tree in utter darkness to be something of a challenge. She couldn’t see where her next handhold was going to be and just had to feel around until she found one, all the while praying that she wouldn’t disturb something’s nest.

Come on, she thought to herself. Just a little further. Just a little further.

Then her hand came down on something smooth and hard.

Immediately her palm was filled with a frenzied fluttering. The shock almost caused her to lose her grip and fall, but she managed to hang on with one hand while ripping the other away from the thing whose rest she had disturbed. She heard the buzzing of its wings as it flew off.

Nuriel swallowed. Well, exceptionally large beetles were a thing here, and they seemed to be capable of flight. Lovely.

Though she really didn’t want to, Nuriel reached back for the tree again. This time she just felt familiar bark. Taking in a deep and shaky breath, she resumed her ascent.

Then the tree seemed to open up. Nuriel felt around to find that she had reached a sort of hollow formed in the base of several branches, one filled with a sort of springy moss. Also, there didn’t seem to be anything crawling, slithering, or biting around.

All right. That’ll do.

Nuriel gingerly eased herself around and laid back. It was large enough to fit her if she kept her legs close. And it was considerably better than wandering around down below in the dark. Not a whole lot better, but at the very least everything that could get her up in the branches could also get her down on the ground, so at least she was now safe from anything that could only get her on the ground.

It wasn’t a very reassuring thought.

Still, she was sort of stuck at the moment, so there was nothing else to do but make herself comfortable and wait until first light. It promised to be a miserable time though. Her body was still shaking from her fright, and every nightcall sent her twitching. There was a bitter humor to it, in that when she hadn’t wanted to fall asleep earlier she had dropped off right away, but now that she would have preferred sleep to this watchful fear, there was no way she was going to be able to…

The darkness again swallowed her up.

…

The ship is being buffeted by wind and rain from above and the rising and falling of the sea from below. Waves crash over the railings, sweeping across the deck and threatening to send the crew overboard. Every man has tied himself to whatever is available: to the masts, to the deck, to the railings, but that might not be enough. They all know that they very well might die that night.

And none know that more than Nat the dumb cabin boy, real name Nuriel Cunningham, whom is currently behind held aloft by her slender neck by a thick, meaty hand. The hand belongs to Mr. Roderick Soil, the ship’s quartermaster.

Mr. Soil, a man heavy of muscle, large of belly, and bald of head, had always been a rough and calloused old cuss, an experienced sailor feared by all and who feared nothing in return. All of that salt and piss is gone now, and his striking blue eyes are wide with madness, the kind brought upon by terror.

He holds Nuriel over the railing, her kicking legs dangling over the crashing sea. It is he that had discovered her secret. It is he that had dragged her up into the storm and exposed her true identity to the crew. It is he that now declares to all that the storm is her doing, that it is punishment for her deception, and if they wished to survive than they had to harden their hearts and remove the sin from their midst.

Nuriel struggles and writhes in his grasp. If she could plea for her life she would have.

Mr. Soil then releases his grip, letting her fall to her certain death in the waves below.

Then suddenly, the view changes, and now Nuriel is observing the horrid drama from above. She is now a giantess standing waist-deep in the ocean, looking down at the tiny ship, its panicking crew little more than tiny dots rushing to and fro on the deck, and the storm itself is little more than an irritating wet breeze.

Nuriel reaches down with one hand into the water and lifts the ship up. She brings it in close. Mr. Soil is still standing near the railing. She locks eyes with the tiny man, the one that had condemned her to die, and he freezes in terror.

Then, just as he had done to her, she opens her hand, letting the ship and all aboard fall to its doom.

Nuriel’s eyes snapped open, the tinny screams of the men she had doomed in her dream still echoing in her mind.

What they saw was so odd that she wasn’t sure if she had even awakened.

She was still up in the tree, and the sun had yet to stir from its slumber, so there was nothing to see save shapes in the dark.

But there was a new shape, one that hadn’t been there when she had nodded off. One that was very close.

It was dangling over her, a vaguely bipedal form that clung to the branches with all the dexterity of a chimpanzee. Maybe it was one, though it looked a bit too graceful. Also, while it was nearly impossible to tell, Nuriel was pretty certain that it had long, flowing hair.

And it was staring down at her with two shining crimson eyes, ones that glowed as brightly as the green ones belonging to the sea-creature.

Maybe it was because she was still caught in the sleep trance, but Nuriel didn’t feel afraid or even worried. She merely stared right back at them, feeling nothing more than gentle curiosity.

The red-eyed shadow tilted its head. It blinked once.

Then the eyes slowly closed and the shadows shifted. A moment later it was gone.

Nuriel still kept staring at the place it had been. She wasn’t fully certain if she had actually locked gazes with another glowing-eyed creature or if it had been a lingering dream. Probably the second one.

Hopefully the second one.

Nuriel let her eyelids drift closed and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

…

When Nuriel again awoke, the sun was high and shining, and the dark shadows of the jungle were now an explosion of color. In fact, all she could see when her eyes opened was a confusing blur of greens, reds, yellows, browns, and purples.

Well, it would seem that she had survived the night. Nothing had eaten her while she had slept. She supposed that she ought to be grateful, but given that she presumably had many more nights ahead of her spent in this island, all it would take for was one second of carelessness, and that would be it for her.

Especially considered those strange creatures with glowing eyes that were apparently stalking her. Had those even been real? She was pretty sure that the green-eyed monster had real, but the one with red eyes might have actually just been a dream.

Even so, it was clear that there were dangers on the island unlike any she had ever even conceived, and she was going to have to be doubly careful if she wanted to survive to see another sunset.

Also, the ground was shaking.

Nuriel shook her head to dislodge the last vestiges of sleep. It did the trick of giving shape and substances to all the colors she was seeing but didn’t stop the shaking. That was real.

Then she heard an animal’s call, one that started as a deep, bass groan before rising up to a high whoop. And it came from directly below her.

Nuriel glanced this way and that. Then she pulled herself out of her mossy bed and crept to the edge to look.

What she saw dwarfed even both the green-eyed and red-eyed monsters for strangeness.

A herd of animals, about seven in all, was passing by on the forest path, but they weren’t at all like anything Nuriel had ever seen. For one, they were absolutely huge, four or five times bigger than even the biggest of horses, and while they didn’t stand as tall as the elephants she had seen, they had at least as much mass, if not more. Their brownish-grey bodies were rounded into ovals, their heads blunt, and they went along on four squat legs. They each had a long, swaying tail that stuck out behind them.

And their backs, tails, and the backs of their heads were all plated with thick, bony armor and jutting spikes. Crushing clubs of bone were stuck on the ends of their tails. One swing would smash her to bloody bits with ease. One of the tails brushed up against the trunk of Nuriel’s tree and sent the whole thing shaking. It had just been a chance impact, but that was all it took.

Nuriel felt the blood draining from her face. She wanted to cower back and hide, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. No wonder the path was so wide, if those things were what traveled it! They could probably carve out another path just like it with a leisurely stroll through the woods!

Below, she saw a couple of babies waddling around the adults. Either one of them could have trampled her into a paste with ease.

She watched as they passed by her, on their way without knowing or caring about the strange, hairless trespasser that was watching them. And she kept on watching them until they had lumbered completely out of sight.

Nuriel fell back into her little nest, completely gobsmacked. Well, that certainly cleared up what kind of island she was on! If her glowing-eyed neighbors hadn’t already confirmed it, she had the ill fate to wash up on one of those monster-infested lost worlds of legend from the stories!

Hooray.

Nuriel was sorely tempted to simply stay right where she was. No need to expose herself to anything else that might be stomping around. Those big beasts could have walked right over her without so much as noticing. And if the grass-eaters were like that, imagine what the local predators must be like.

Then Nuriel remembered the echoing roar from the night before. Oh. Like that. The predators were like that.

Her mouth had gone dry. She swallowed and sloshed saliva around to moisten her lips. Then she crept over to look down again.

Nothing.

Well, now she had two choices: stay where she was or climb down and follow them. Nuriel wasn’t stupid, and she was very much in favor of survival. Father had taught her of the importance of keeping herself safe and out of sight, and she had taken his lessons to heart.

On the other hand, he had also taught her that nothing valuable was gained without risk, that knowledge was paramount to survival, and that staying in one place without seeing what was over the horizon was akin to rotting. Besides, she was going to have to learn her way around this strange new world if she wanted to keep her skin anyway.

Besides, she really had to piss.

Nuriel breathed in through her nose and released it out of her mouth. All right then.

She stretched her legs out and brought them back in over and over, easing away the cramps from her tight sleep. Then she swung them down and began her descent.

As odd as it was, going down was almost as bad as going up. Sure, she had been blind and terrified and half-convinced that the next handhold would turn out to be a giant snake that would immediately squeeze the life out of her, but now that she could see what was around her, she realized that she was pretty far up. And it was much harder to find places for her feet and hands while going down.

Well, at least this time there wasn’t any enormous beetles to frighten her. Nuriel lowered herself nearly to the ground and let herself drop.

The beasts’ passing had beat the earth soft. Nuriel quickly scampered to a spot a fair distance from her tree and shimmied her trousers far down enough to squat and piss out a long, dark stream. The relief of it made her eyes roll back into her head. Oh, that had been saved up for a while.

That done, she yanked her trousers back up and returned to her tree. Looking up at its length, she wrinkled her nose in thought. The little nest she had up there was pretty convenient, and she was unlikely to find another on short notice. But if she left, it would be nearly impossible to find it again.

She looked around until she found a tall stick lying in the underbrush. Taking, she stuck it into the ground straight up right next to the tree’s trunk. There. Something she would easily notice but animals would probably ignore.

When she was finally done, she started down the path after the procession. Even as far as they had gone, she could still hear them lowing in the distance.

The path was fortunately pretty straight and clear. It would have to be for those behemoths to pass through. At one point she found a stream flowing across the road, but that wasn’t a problem as it wasn’t any deeper than her ankles. Plus, she now had a source of fresh water!

She moved a little off the path to where the stream was pouring off a rock and cupped her hands under the flow. Drinking in the water brought her almost as much pleasure and letting it out had. She had partaken her fair share of exotic vintages, mostly without their owners’ permission or knowledge, but this flowed more sweetly down her throat than any of the spirits she had pilfered.

Well, except maybe for that one…

Nuriel finished quenching her thirst and continued on her way.

Now that she could see the jungle in the bright of day, it didn’t seem as threatening as it had the night before. Oh, it was certainly overgrown and wild, but it was actually quite lovely. There didn’t seem to be anything prowling

Up ahead there was a break in the trees, and beyond she could hear the armored beasts lowing contently. Though she hated the thought of actually using it for anything other than memories, Nuriel slid St. George from his sheath and made her way to the opening.

Now, Nuriel’s strangeness threshold had been gradually rising ever since she had woken up. It seemed that every minute spent on the island introduced her to something that put even the wildest of the sailor stories to shame.

But even so, what she saw then quite frankly defied even the most imaginative storyteller’s ability to describe.

Beyond was more than a clearing, it was a wide open field of grass and shrubs in greens and yellows, one large enough to contain a small village and its crops. Here and there a lonesome tree sprung up, almost in defiance of the expanse around them. The ground dipped gently down into a hillside from the jungle to a large lake at the bottom that was fed by a waterfall rushing down a cliffside.

And everywhere were monsters.

The family of armored beasts was nearby, contently grazing while the two babies chased each other around the adults’ legs. Another family group was further off, this one also of four-legged creatures that had longer legs, higher backs, but dark grey skin instead of spiked plates of bones. However, their heads were almost like helmets that flared up high into spiked crests in the back, with more spikes protruding around their eyes and from their noses. They looked like they probably couldn’t take as much damage as the first group, but they could certainly give out far more, especially with a running start. Things that looked like brown, horse-sized lizards walking around on two very long chicken-like legs strutted around, their bobbing heads balanced on long, flexible necks while their tails swayed behind them.

But it was down by the lake that the biggest of the monsters had gathered. There were several orangish beasts bigger than even the armored beasts, with longer legs and much thicker tails. They had mouths that looked like a duck’s bill and long, bony horns sticking out of the back of their heads. There were also somewhat smaller creatures with similar builds, but with dark green skin, parrot-like beaks, no horns, and a dangerous stabbing spike on each of their forelegs.

At any other time those would have been the sole focus of her attention, monsters of impossible height and girth. But she barely even noticed them, in favor of something else entirely.

Another…no, calling it a monster just wasn’t right. It was too big for that, too awesome, too terrifying, too incredible to be debased with the simple label of monster. It was a giant, a behemoth, a mountain that walked. It had an oval-shaped body with mottled grey skin larger than most houses and longer than most city streets! It had a supple, whiplike tail that stretched out longer than a full-sized schooner and walked along on four legs thicker than oak trees and taller than two full-grown men standing on each other’s shoulders.

And…

…and…and…and…

And its neck! It just kept going and going and going, stretching out high above the ground, seemingly in defiance of gravity itself, impossibly long for how high it was. The round head at the end, though it was large enough to probably swallow her whole, seemed almost comically small by comparison. It was dipping its head down to scoop water into its mouth from the middle of the lake despite standing on the shore, behind the other beasts! Sometimes it would pause drinking and raise its head up and up and up to bite off bits of shrubs that were hanging off the side of the cliff.

That was what Nuriel saw, a creature too large to be real, one that dwarfed all attempts to describe it. Even as far as she was, she could feel the tremors through the earth as it walked, moving with far too much grace and fluidity than anything that size ought to be reasonably capable of.

And there were four of them!

Nuriel’s legs wobbled beneath her. She took one unsteady step backward, lost her balance, and fell to her ass. She barely even noticed as she kept staring, her mouth agape.

How? How? How could a place like this exist? How did nobody know about it? This island was huge, and the things that lived upon it were sized up to fit! She had never heard of a place like this, with such freakish and powerful-looking creatures. And, sure, she had seen animals from other lands that were equally as strange, but she had at least heard of those before seeing them! These were wholly new, and they were much too big, and they was far too many of them, and why didn’t anyone know about this?!

Then she heard something snort.

Still on the ground with her legs splayed out around her, Nuriel turned to see one of the long-legged, long-necked lizards nearby. It was standing about four meters away, its head turned to one side to stare at her with a single bulging eye.

It turned its head around to look at her with the other eye and let out a hooting chirp. Whether it was a warning, an expression of curiosity, or a challenge Nuriel couldn’t tell. She was mostly focused on how easily the claws at the end of its feet could probably rend her flesh, if it didn’t decide to simply kick her head off.

Keeping their gazes locked, Nuriel slowly rose to her feet. The lizard raised its head in alarm and chirped again. This time, two more of the lizards took notice and turned to see what their companion was doing.

Making sure not to show it her back, Nuriel backed away, one careful step at a time. The important thing was to keep from running. Running might encourage it to give chase.

The lizard warily watched her as she backed away. Nuriel had to be close to the jungle entrance by now. Once she was in the trees she was probably going to be safe. She spared a glance over her shoulder to check the distance.

One of the baby armored beasts was right there.

It came up to about her waist and was staring at her with a sort of stupid curiosity. If she had just kept backing up she would have walked right into it.

Nuriel froze. Oh, this was bad. What was she going to do?

The baby suddenly let out a happy cry and started waddling forward, no doubt to investigate this strange new visitor and see if it would be fun to play with. Nuriel suddenly found herself caught between the urge to flee in several different directions while realizing that they all were very bad ideas.

The baby shoved its snout right up against her and took a deep sniff. As it did, the chicken-lizard began striding forward. Nuriel held out a shaking hand, hoping that these things thought the same way that dogs did and it would accept the gesture as non-threatening.

The baby sniffed her hand. Its nose was dry and warm. Okay, good sign. At least it wasn’t-

Unfortunately, it seemed that the chicken-lizards had some kind of understanding with the walking armories, and the one that had been eyeing her took exception to her making contact with the baby. It raised its head up and let out a shrill cry.

This drew the attention of one of the adult armories, and it turned to see its young fraternizing with an unknown invader. It let out a hoarse bellow and began plodding toward her, moving far quicker than something that size had any business doing so. Nuriel turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

…

For the second time in under a day, Nuriel fled through the jungle, heedless of how much noise she was making, not even trying to be stealthy. She was again driven by pure panic. The only difference was that this time she could see where she was going.

Unfortunately, that meant that everything else could see her.

After a bit, a stitch started to develop in her side, grinding her down, and she had to stop. Bracing her hand against a nearby tree trunk, she hunched over and panted heavily, her other hand holding onto her complaining side.

As she struggled to catch her breath, she heard the sound of rustling, of something heavy moving through the underbush.

Nuriel’s eyes were already closed, but her eyelids squeezed more tightly together. She just couldn’t catch a break, could she?

Wiping the sweat away from her face, Nuriel opened her eyes and peeked out from around the tree she was leaning again.

The section of jungle next to the path was more open, consisting of several widely-spaced birch trees with red-hued bark and red leaves, the ground carpeted by green ivy.

But as for the creature, there was nothing to be seen.

Nuriel scanned the area, searching for any sign of movement, any sign of-

There!

At the far end of the grove was a clustered of ferns with several feathery stalks. And they were swaying, as if by the wind, but there was no wind to be felt.

There was something in them, something around her size. Nuriel squinted her eyes and tilted her head. If she focused really hard, she could just make out the shape of something shaggy…

Then one of the feathery stalks withdrew, followed by another. Nuriel inhaled sharply. The stalks weren’t part of the foliage, they were tails, the tails of several creatures hiding nearby.

Creatures that could probably see her better than she could see them.

To hell with that.

Nuriel again fled, slower this time and with a pronounced limp due to her side.

Where is it? she thought in despair. Where’s that damn stick? Where is-

There! The stick she had thrust into the ground was still sticking up out of the dirt, right next to her tree. Nuriel hastened up the tree with all the grace of an intoxicated monkey, ignoring her pain and fatigued, until she finally reached the safety of her hollow, into which she collapsed with her shaking arms and legs curled up close to her, praying to a God that she didn’t like that when she opened her eyes again, the nightmare would be over.

…

Nuriel was hungry.

She tried to ignore it. She shifted her position into something more comfortable, leaned back, and tried to think of something else.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been cowering in the tree. Hours? Minutes? Maybe even days. Maybe a whole week had passed as she had laid curled up and trembling. Maybe she had fallen asleep without realizing it. How would she be able to tell?

But she was hungry. She hadn’t been eating well even before being thrown overboard, and since then all she had been able to find to eat were those three coconuts from the day before. And now that the shock and terror had worn off, the emptiness of her belly was now demanding her attention.

Food.

Forget it. There was no way that she was going back there. What good would finding food be if she ended up as something else’s meal?

Food.

No! No food! She was going to stay up in the tree, where it was safe and nothing could find her!

Well, nothing except that red-eyed monster. Or angry primates. Or bugs. Or anything that could climb trees.

Food.

Enough! Nuriel covered her head with her arms and huddled down lower. She wasn’t leaving, and that was final.

And then she heard the sound of leaves rustling.

Nuriel stiffened. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no…

The leaves continued to rustle, and with it was a low snuffling sound, punctuated by gruff snorts.

Please no, Nuriel thought. Please.

Trembling hard, Nuriel peeked out from between her arms.

It was a good thing that her fear had frozen her ability to make noise, because otherwise she might have screamed.

Three wickedly sharp blades had reached up to her nest, each one more than a foot-and-a-half long and slightly curved. They felt around until they had hooked onto a leaf-covered branch, and then lowered, pulling the branch down. There was more snorting, and then the branch came up again, this time missing a large chunk of its leaves.

Nuriel whimpered. Those weren’t blades, they were claws, ones longer than her forearms, each one capable of splitting her wide open with a single swipe! What good was her nest against something like that?

As Nuriel stared, the claws then reached up again to pull down another branch. Then she heard the same rustling sound to her right.

More claws were reaching up to the trees over there. Christ in Heaven, there was more than one of these things. She was probably surrounded.

Nuriel kept very, very still, listening and watching as the claws continuously came up and down, all the while silently begging for them to move on.

Then they extended all the way up over her nest, and reached in.

Nuriel instinctively kicked them with her legs.

The claws abruptly withdrew, and she heard something let out a hoarse, “Haroof!” This was answered by several other grunts, and the claws stopped coming up.

Nuriel tensed up. Shit, she had given herself away. They were going to investigate, they were going to retaliate, they were going to come up for her, she was so completely fucked…

But instead, she heard the soft thuds as several heavy beasts lumbered away, ones that gradually got further and further away.

Nuriel blinked. Had she scared them off? Had they decided that whatever it was that was lashing out at them, it wasn’t worth the trouble?

Please God, let them be gone.

When she was absolutely sure that they creatures had left, Nuriel finally untangled her limbs and got up to check.

The area around the tree was empty.

Nuriel breathed out a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Now that she knew that things lived her that could reach all the way up, her tree was no longer safe.

And she still needed to find food.

She backed out of her hideaway and climbed down to the ground. Then she stood still and listened.

No footsteps, no animal sounds coming from nearby, nothing to indicate that anything was close. Good.

Then again, if a stealthy predator was watching her from the shadows, she wouldn’t know until it had leapt onto her and started tearing out her intestines…

Nuriel roughly shook her head, banishing the thought. Then she looked at her possible paths.

She could go back to the beach and try to retrieve a few more coconuts. At least she knew for certain that something edible was waiting for her there.

But then, there was the problem of getting them out of the trees, and she couldn’t count on a convenient sea-bug to gift her with enough fright-induced climbing ability.

Plus, that direction led to a monster.

No. Not that way.

She also quickly discarded going in the opposite direction. The big animals grazing in the field might not be predatory, but that didn’t make them any less hazardous to her health, and they didn’t seem to care for trespassers. Besides, what food was she going to find there? Grass would fill her belly, sure, but she doubted that it would do her any good, though to be fair if this went on much longer she would be tempted to try.

Right then. That just left one road for her to take.

Swallowing hard, Nuriel pulled out St. George and stepped off the path and into the jungle.

As expected, it wasn’t easy going. The ground was largely uneven, and where it wasn’t covered with thick foliage, it was nearly swallowed up by a serpent’s nest of tree roots. She stuck to those parts. Tree roots might be a pain to walk upon, but at the very least they weren’t unlikely to poison her with a touch.

As she went, she kept an eye out for…pretty much anything. Fruit trees, wild vegetables, anything that she could eat. But she also kept her ears open for any sign of something that might want to eat her: snarls, growls, roars, anything down those lines, all the while trying not to think about the fact that when something did roar at her, it would be too late to do anything about it.

But then she did hear something, and it didn’t come from a predator.

Nuriel paused. She stood on a horse-sized root with one hand on the tree’s trunk and the other gripping St. George’s handle, ears open.

From nearby came the distinctive whooping of some kind of monkey, and from the sound of it there was a lot of them, and they didn’t sound stressed.

Nuriel considered her options. On the one hand, if there were monkeys about, they were probably near a food source, and anything a monkey could eat would be edible to a human, right?

On the other, a troupe of monkeys could tear her to pieces as easily as a jaguar. She would have to be cautious.

Nuriel followed the sound. The forest opened up into a grove of similar looking trees with wide canopies and yellow leaves. And in the branches were, as expected, monkeys.

They were lean of body and long of limb, with short silver-black fur and narrow snouts. They had long, slender tails that curled up over their backs in a spiral, and their eyes were an emerald green.

Nuriel paused. She didn’t exactly consider herself any kind of expert, but she had seen her fair share of monkeys. Even so, this particular breed was a new one.

Then again, there was a lot of that going around.

Of greater interest to her were the green-striped yellow orbs hanging from the trees. As she watched, several of the monkeys plucked them down and took great big bites. The fruits’ flesh was pale red and looked absolutely enticing.

Nuriel licked her lips as she gazed longingly at the fruit. Her stomach’s complaining suddenly flared up, insisting loudly that it be filled with those things over there, and to do it right now.

There were a few of the fruits fallen to the forest floor. Many had big chunks bitten out or had been splattered by the fall, but she saw some that had survived the tumble intact. Keeping on eye on the monkeys, Nuriel took a hesitant step forward.

Then she heard a whoop of warning. Looking up, she saw one of the monkeys in the closest tree. It was crouching on one of the middle branches as it stared at her in curiosity.

Another whoop, and more monkeys came ambling to his tree to see what the fuss was all about.

Nuriel sighed. It was just like back at the field. Credit where it was due, the animals on this island were certainly wary of trouble.

Now the tree had a fair collection of wary primates, all of them focused on her. Nuriel slowly edged away, careful to not show them her back, all the while watching for their next move. The monkeys seemed…well, they were certainly curious. If she was the first human to reach this island, or at least make it this far into the jungle, then it was a safe bet that they had never seen anything like her before and were trying to figure her out.

However, they didn’t exactly look pleased to see her either. Many of them had bared their teeth and were hissing at her in warning, and more than one of them had plucked the yellow fruits from the branches and were holding them at the ready. That…made sense. It was obvious that this island was incredibly dangerous, so anything new was to be regarded with suspicion at best.

At least they weren’t charging her. Nuriel kept backing up until she was able to duck behind a tree. When she ascertained that they weren’t giving chase, she crouched down to consider the situation.

Most of the monkeys were still in that one tree, so maybe if she crept around…no, there were enough hanging around the other trees to spot her if she did that. In fact, it seemed that all of the monkeys that hadn’t immediately crowded into that single tree had spread out to the other trees along the grove’s perimeter. It was a smart defensive move, but it also complicated things.

Perhaps if she slowly approached without making any threatening moves, they would let her take a fruit or two. Nuriel sighed. And maybe she could strike up a conversation and establish a mutually beneficial bartering relationship. All right, put away the suicidal ideas. Yes, she was getting hungrier by the second, but…

Nuriel’s nostrils twitched. She heard buzzing. Glancing down, she saw that one of the fruits lying not far from her feet. It had splattered against the ground and gone rotten, attracting quite a few flies, so it wasn’t exactly fit for consumption (though to be honest, part of her was considering it), but it was there.

Now, how had it gotten all the way over there? She was far enough from the grove to rule out it falling to that spot naturally. There was no downhill slope steep enough to cause it to roll, and if it had fallen, it would have split apart on impact rather than all the way over here. Nuriel looked around. Sure enough,  here and there lay more of the fruit, all of them spoiled and rotten, but still lying too far away from the grove.

Nuriel glanced out from around the tree. The monkeys were still there, watching to see if she’d come back.

And several were still had fruit in their grasp, ready to hurl at the first sign of a threat.

Nuriel got an idea. It was a risky idea, a dangerous idea, and some might consider it to be just as stupid as trying to unaggressive approach the monkeys, but she wasn’t blessed with a plethora of options.

Picking a number of stones off the ground, Nuriel walked back into view.

The monkeys immediately tensed up and started hopping up and down in the branches again. Nuriel took a few steps forward. The frantic hopping and hooting increased. Hairy arms were drawn back, hands firmly grasping their fleshy missiles.

However, Nuriel had some of her own. Palming one of the stones, she took aim at a spot free of monkeys, but close enough to make it clear that it was a deliberate attack. She drew back and threw.

The stone sailed off and bounced off the side of the tree.

That pissed them off. The monkeys began outright screaming. Nuriel readied herself to run, but they didn’t leave the tree. However, those bearing fruit did draw back a bit further.

So Nuriel threw another rock at them.

Finally they began to return fire. Several yellow orbs came hurtling her way. Nuriel dove out of the way and took cover.

It had worked! Sure, many of the fruits splattered upon impact with a tree trunk, a rock, or the ground, but several survived the throw to land fully intact. Nuriel scampered out and began gathering those up.

The monkey were still whooping angrily at her, and she couldn’t help but grin. Here she was, washed up on a dangerous and savage land full of monsters, and she was already outsmarting the local animals. No wonder that man was the dominant species on Earth. Hell, if she managed to survive long enough to find consistent shelter and a food source, she might have to get to work taming some of those-

Then something smacked against her face and sent her sprawling.

The world pitched and heaved as violently as the Santa Lillian’s deck the day before. Nuriel blinked away the spots in her vision. Right, she had taken a hit. Not the first time, nor would it be the last. Time to regather her wits and get out of range before-

Another fruit slammed into her buttocks.

That did the job of waking her up. Nuriel hastily clawed her way to her feet. She seized up Saint George, gathered as many of the fruits as she could, and finally fled, as the victors continued to scream at her and fill the air with delicious ordinance in her wake.

…

The fruits didn’t have much in the way of juice when compared to their cousins in more civilized areas, and their seeds were large enough to be annoying.

Nuriel quite frankly did not care. Taste had never mattered to her anyway. She ripped them open with Saint George and gulped them down in chunks, pausing only to spit the seeds out.

When she was done, she was still hungry, but did feel at least a little better. Unfortunately, she now had a new problem.

In finding the grove and fleeing the monkeys, she had turned herself around so completely that there was no way she was going to be able to find her way back to the path and her tree. Which was just as well, as it was not at all sufficient as a long-term shelter. Still, it did work as a temporary home base, and she was going to have to find another before it got dark.

Sighing, Nuriel set off.

Despite the shade of the canopy, the day soon grew hot, and while the fruits had been pretty dry, she had still gotten a fair bit of juice over her chin, arms, and shirt, which the heat was now drying into a sticky film. That was uncomfortable enough, but when it started to attract flies it became unbearable.

Nuriel swatted them away, but the cloud of crawling legs just kept growing.

Water. She had to find water and wash it all off of her. Nuriel increased her gait, slapping at whatever exposed skin she had, but the swarm was not to be deterred.

This was bad. The buzzing insects were annoying, but if they started biting, then they were potentially lethal. There were many tropical diseases in the Caribbean islands spread by biting insects, and dying of those was so much worse than even being eaten alive. And if enough bugs targeted her, then she would suffer both.

Nuriel broke out into a run, waving her arms around her head, trying to drive the flies away, trying to escape, but they just wouldn’t let up.

Then, as she sprinted across the top of a slope, the ground beneath her feet suddenly shifted. Her legs slipped out from under her, and she fell.

The next few moments were a terrifying blur as she tumbled down a steep hillside. Fortunately, untold years of rotting leaves at the bottom formed a nice blanket for her to land in. In fact, it was almost comfortable.

Unfortunately, that same squishy blanket also made for an excellent home for several creatures that Nuriel would have been happy to never disturb.

Nuriel’s senses returned to her in degrees. The first thing she became aware of was that she was lying in something soft and wet. The second was that despite her sudden tumble, she seemed to be unhurt. The third was that, for whatever reason, the flies had neglected to follow her down, so there was that at least.

The fourth was that something slimy was making its way across her arm.

Nuriel leapt to her feet. A huge, green-bodied slug was crawling over her right forearm. She hastily yanked it off and hurled it away.

Something slithered onto the nape of her neck. Nuriel yelped and hurled that slug away as well. She hastily hopped out of the pile of rotting leaves until she found ground that was reasonably solid.

Nuriel hastily searched herself all over. No slugs, no slugs, all right. Good. They were gone. They were gone, and…

Her gaze then lifted to take in the hill she had just fallen down.

It was steep, but not unclimbable. In fact, further down the way the slope evened out enough to make ascending an easy matter! And further along…

Nuriel’s heart skipped a beat.

There was a building nearby.

It was about half again as large as a mercantile booth, the likes of which were often seen at city docks, and was square in shape. It was entirely made of grey hewn stones, with an open rectangular window in the wall facing her and another in the one across from it. The roof was pyramidal, formed by four tiers of stone bricks with the broken remains of some kind of statue at the center.

The structure was clearly manmade, and it was very, very old. The stones still stood, but they had been worn rough by the elements and now were home to several patches of moss. Nuriel couldn’t see much in its shadowed interior, but there seemed to be quite a lot of rubbish, mainly decaying leaves and other similar mulch.

Nuriel cocked her head in thought. Well, maybe she wasn’t the first human to set foot on this island after all. It seemed that people had lived here, though whether this was evidence of some long-lost civilization or if it was simply an abandoned building and its owners were still thriving somewhere else was up in the air. And honestly, Nuriel wasn’t sure which possibility she preferred.

She slowly walked up to the building and peered in through the window. She couldn’t see much other than dead leaves. Then she slowly made her way around its perimeter. The next wall to her right had no entrance at all, neither window nor doorway, so she was about to pass it by.

Then she stopped. There were things carved into the stone, relief images of some kind. Time and exposure had worn most of them away, but she could make out a few details. She thought she could see a representation of one of the horned beasts with the helmeted heads and the high backs. There were a few symbols that she didn’t recognize, as well as what looked like several people standing in a row near the bottom.

And hovering over them was a head of some kind of animal, a head with a long snout similar to a particularly thick horse, one with a wide mouth and a great many sharp teeth.

It looked like a dragon.

Nuriel swallowed. Well, actual dragons were no less far-fetched than anything else she had seen, so if any were actually present, she really, really hoped that the tales of their preference for the flesh of young maidens had been exaggerated. St. George told the tale of the slaying of a dragon, but he would be greatly inadequate in replicating the feat.

Shivering, Nuriel continued her inspection of the building. The window on the other wall didn’t tell her much more than the first had. However, the final wall had a proper doorway, a rectangular opening large enough to accomondate a full-grown man.

Nuriel stood at the doorway and peered inside. There was no thought of actually using this structure as her new home. It was entirely too exposed, its placement at the bottom of a hill left her open to all sorts of bad, and she wasn’t about to risk waking up every morning covered with slugs. Still, she was very curious about its purpose, and if one existed, it stood to reason that there might be more, maybe one in a more ideal location.

There didn’t seem to be much inside though. From the look of things, the far wall, the one without any window or door, contained some kind of alcove, perhaps a small fireplace. And there did seem to be stone benches under each of the windows. Maybe this had been a guard shack or an outpost of some kind.

Then, as she shifted her position, something partially buried in the leaves caught the sunlight and glinted.

Nuriel blinked. Had…had that been gold?

It glinted again. Whatever it was, it was definitely metal. Nuriel got in closer and crouched down to get a closer look.

Her heart started beating faster. It was gold all right, some kind of bracelet from the look of things. And she was pretty sure it was set with some kind of blue stones, right under the covering of leaves.

Nuriel started to grin. Maybe it was St. George’s influence, maybe it was all the pirates she tended to sail with, maybe it was Father’s lessons, but she did have a attraction to all things shiny and valuable. And sure, maybe a jewel-encrusted gold bracelet wouldn’t do her any good, but hey, if she survived it stood to reason that she would one day find a way off the island. It wouldn’t hurt to take along something that could a few coins in her pocket.

Nuriel reached over grab onto the bracelet and pull it free.

It came up, and it brought a human bone with it.

Nuriel hastily dropped the bracelet and leapt back. The sudden motion caused the pile of leaves to shift, revealing the leering eye sockets of a human skull.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Now that she was really looking, she could see the shape of the rest of the skeleton, its slime-covered forearms sticking out from the leaves, while cracked and snapped rib bones, vertebrae, and leg bones were strewn about outside of the pile, no doubt the work of local scavengers going for the marrow.

Nuriel’s heart was still pounding, and this time it wasn’t from anticipation. She didn’t buy into many of the superstitions spread around the sailors and brigands she ended up spending most of her time with, especially now that one of those beliefs had nearly gotten her killed. She had been on plenty of voyages in which no storms had risen up in protest to the presence of a girl on board, and no one had been more the wiser. In her opinion, fearful men will always invent a reason to blame their own

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a healthy respect for forces well beyond mortal understanding. In her opinion, nothing good could come from upsetting those from the world beyond, and she did what she could to avoid attracting their attention. She didn’t rob churches or the clergy, she avoided places of sin and indulgence, and she kept her distance from cemeteries, crypts, and other houses of the dead. Luck might be a myth used by the weak-willed as an excuse for their own failings, but ghosts? Monsters? Malevolent spirits? Oh, those she had no problem believing in.

And for good reason.

Father had not held to the belief that the places where the dead slept were to be avoided. In fact, he had often said that others’ irrational fear of ghosts and spirits made them a prime hideaway in a pinch, as well as a great place to meet with certain…business associates that wished to avoid scrutiny.

But one night, all that had changed.

Father had left Nuriel in the tiny attic room that had served as their home at the time, impressing upon her to lay low and wait for him to return, that he was going to the cemetery to sell off a few pilfered items to a prospective buyer. And as such instances were common, Nuriel hadn’t thought much of it.

But then he had returned much, much earlier than normal, and rather than come bearing a pouch of coins, he had returned empty-handed. What was more, he had been terrified. His face had been utterly pale, and he would not stop shaking.

We need to leave, he had told her. Right now.

Nuriel had tried to ask why, but he wouldn’t hear it. He had only told her to gather anything she could carry, keep quiet, keep her head down, and follow him.

It hadn’t been the first time Father had led her in a hurry through the city after something had gone wrong, but she could not remember an instance before or after when he had looked so scared while doing so: always starting at every sudden sound, always glancing over his shoulder and at the foggy night sky, and, strangest of all, avoiding the shadows and staying where it was lit, the opposite of what he normally did during an escape.

And though she had obeyed and kept quiet, Nuriel had also been unable to shake the feeling that they were constantly being watched, that something was lurking in the shadows, stalking them every step.

A few days later, when things had calmed down and Father had seemed to regain some of his wits, he had finally told her what he had seen: that the deal had been a trap, and that the buyer had not been interested in the merchandise at all. Instead, the buyer had been interested in him.

He didn’t say anything, Father had told her. I just knew from the way he looked at me, with those dead eyes. That bastard. He wasn’t human. I don’t know what he was, but he wasn’t human.

Nuriel still hadn’t understood, but she took Father at his word, and ever since then, even after Father had been taken from her, she had avoided the houses of the dead, lest she also encounter something that looked human but wasn’t, something with dead eyes.

And if for no other reason to confirm her fears, the skull started moving.

Something was inside it, something black and…writhing. A slender black limb reached out of the eye socket, one about as long as her hand, fingers included. It was followed by another, and then another, and then another.

Nuriel stood in abject horror as the largest and blackest spider she had ever seen crawled out of the skull and slowly made its way over the mess of rot and decay.

Horrific intuition struck her, and Nuriel slowly looked up, focusing on the structure’s walls. Most of them were still bathed in shadow, but now that she was paying attention, she could see movement.

A lot of movement.

Then, though she really, really didn’t want to, Nuriel looked up.

The shadows of the ceiling and the upper parts of the walls were moving, were writhing, were moving towards her. There had to be hundreds of spiders living in the stone structure, some of them tiny little monsters the side of her pinky nail, while others were as large as her fist. They crawled over one another in that horrible, stiff-legged manner of spiders, which always seemed so alien, so unnatural.

And what was more, they were all crawling toward her.

Oh, fuck this!

Nuriel turned and ran as fast as her legs would take her. All thought of stealth and not attracting predators was gone. Now all she wanted to do was put as much distance between herself and that spider-infested and probably haunted tomb as possible.

#blood island #original fiction #original writing #vampires #pirates #dinosaurs #there's the vampires and dinosaurs #you happy?!?! #hey who can guess all the different species that showed up in this chapter?

[150289city]

HND1 – MOVING IMAGE {RESEARCH TASK}

Task #1 Research a selection of memorable adverts that have stuck with you since your childhood. • Describe what it is that you think makes these adverts so successful; • Study the way your chosen adverts have been shot and edited and the important role that sound and narration play in the production of these Ads.

Red Bull advertising has been with me for many years. It seems to me that its effectiveness lies in a short cartoon film that reproduces children's drawings and is funny in its own way. I remember that each time I was curious what cartoon movie would be the next time.

The sound and narrative was always perfectly suited to the people who were talking and the moment that was at the moment. here is a link to one of the many Red Bull ads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHdL4BgSz_U

Task #2 Research a variety of Moving Image techniques: - Camera movements: panning, tilt, zoom, tracking, dolly, pull focus; Composition: a} Focal length, long / standard / wide; b} Viewpoint, high (birds eye), eye level, low (on ya hunkers); c} Action, identify what is moving in the frame (to aid the transition 'cut on a move') • Now go back to the adverts you have selected and try and see if you can match the camera movements and compositions with the various shots utilised within your adverts.

The simplest movement - pan. This is the simplest camera rotation on the tripod head. The camera does not change its position here, but rotates along the axis. Movement in the image left-right (in the case of reportage it is the rule in accordance with the reading direction - if any text appears in the frame, it will be readable). It has to be smooth enough for your viewer to see the details of the surroundings, or very fast if you want to blur the background (and use it for a creative transition to another scene). Panorama is useful to, for example, track a moving object in the frame, show panoramic scenery or the distance between given objects.

Tilt As before, the camera does not change its place, but rotates in the up-down axis. With this movement, you can show how tall a given object is (e.g. a building or a tree) or show the entire silhouette of the figure (from head to toe).

Dolly The camera moves along with the operator on rails and moves closer or further away from the object in the frame. Of course, you can try to make such a move not only on a wheelchair on rails, but even on an armchair with wheels or a skateboard (I saw it in action). This movement allows the viewer to literally "enter" the action, gives the impression of following the protagonist and going deeper into the scene. With a small camera and a short distance of movement, you can use the slider. It is also visually much more plastic and natural than the zoom effect of a lens. If you combine the approach of the camera with the zoom, you can get a very interesting background effect, literally falling on the hero's head (the so-called vertigo effect).

Zoom (aka Transfocation) Here the zoom is caused by the change of the focal length of the lens, the camera does not move. Once often seen in movies, today rather in television reports. The camera approach looks more natural. Telephoto shots give the impression of standing right next to the figure in the heart of the action.

-zoom in - for example, by filming the full set of a person reading a book, and then zooming in on the book itself in such a way that the viewer can read the title and author's name from its cover.

- zoom out - here it can be the other way around - it starts with the detail, i.e. the book, then you move away and it turns out that the book is in the hand of a girl sitting on a park bench!

Raising-lowering (pedestal) This time the camera rises or lowers vertically along the axis. You can show, for example, the height of a basketball player or lower the staff by filming kids.

Truck driving As before - the camera moves on rails (or wheels), but this time parallel to the scene. In this way, we can follow the action like an outside viewer from the side of the stage. It is possible to use a slider at a short distance.

Camera crane (jib) The camera at the end of the long arm of the crane (typically 2 to 10 meters) moves a great distance and height. This is often used for coverage of events, concerts or sports events, the camera then flies over the audience's heads and hovers over the stage.

Handheld In fact, maybe I should say that this is a basic shot, since it only requires a camera and operator. The operator holds the camera in his hand and can move freely with it. On TV, shoulder cameras are used in this way for quick interviews and reportage, and in the cinema, sometimes the camera effect is simulated by hand to give the pictures credibility and the impression of someone watching the action. Dynamic action scenes (e.g. in war movies) are also filmed in this way to conquer the drama even more. When shooting handheld, it is worth remembering not to use a high zoom, it is better to stay in wide-angle shots. First, the image shakes much less then, and second, it looks more like something that can be observed naturally.

Shots with mechanical (steadycam) or electronic (gimbal) stabilizers. Thanks to such devices, the movement of the camera held by the operator is extremely smooth and is not limited by the range of rails or slider. A great technique to follow the action, sometimes the operator can literally run after the protagonist deep into the stage, but without a shaky image, which would not be too much to be seen in such a run. The movement of the camera is not only suitable for making the materials more dynamic, but it can also be used consciously to present information, show viewers the space where the action is taking place, make them “voyeurs” or be drawn into the very center of the plot.

Focal Lenght:

Long – This type of focal length gives the photographer a close crop effect and can be useful for nature and close portraiture (without the need to be right in at your subject’s face). Best used for: Bring far away subjects closer to the camera Emphasize blurred backgrounds Longer focal length is great for portraits Great for landscape photography.

Standard - These lenses offer natural-looking perspective. They’re good for two-shots of people, and mid shots (hips to head) but they give slight distortion if you use them for closeups. 50mm prime lenses are usually small and ‘fast’ (they have a wide maximum aperture to let in a lot of light).

Wide - lens is any lens with a set focal length that is shorter than the length of the sensor or film. For full frame sensors, a wide angle lens would be any lens with a focal length equal to or less than 35mm. These lenses are very useful for filming master shots of a whole scene, or getting in close and working in cramped spaces. They’re easy to handhold, perspective looks dramatic, and there’s good depth of field (a lot of the shot is in focus at the same time). The big drawback is that closeups will be distorted. If you want to shoot with just one prime lens, this may be the one to have.

Viewpoint - The position of the camera in relation to the subjects can affect the way the viewer perceives the scene. A scene may be shot simultaneously from multiple camera angles to amplify the cinematic effect and the emotions.

High (birds eye) An overhead shot is from way up high, looking down on your subject and a good amount of the scenery surrounding him or her. This can create a great sense of scale and movement.

The Eye Level Shot. When your subject is at eye-level they’re in a neutral perspective (not superior or inferior). This mimics how we see people in real life -- our eye line connecting with theirs.

A Low angle shot frames the subject from a low camera height looking up at them. These camera shots most often emphasize power dynamics between characters. A superior character with the upper hand is often framed from down low. This makes an inferior feel like they are looking up to them.

Camera framing is the placement and position of the subjects in your shots. Shots are all about composition. Rather than pointing the camera at the subject, you need to compose an image. For filmmakers and videographers, a major consideration for framing is the number of subjects you feature in your shots, and their physical relationship to each other and the camera.

Considerations when camera framing a shot: Size — the size of your subject has a direct relationship to the importance of that subject. Relationships — when we see more than one character in a shot, we are meant to acknowledge their relationship (romantic, contentious, etc.) Balance — a "balanced" frame includes elements on the left and right side of the frame.

#preproduction #movingimage

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Haha! It was me all along @phoneboxfairy !

Are you beshooketh?😏😏😏😏

I sure hope you are, and i sure hope that this was worth the wait (im sorry!)

Please enjoy!

Lucy grumbled quietly to herself, the bark digging sharply under her fingertips as she hoisted herself higher up the tree. Her foot almost slipped on a whorled knot that she guessed used to be a branch, snapped by time and sealed shut like an old wound that wouldn't allow her to step on it. 

She did it either way though. Lucy steadied herself with a heart pounding eep! her foot finding purchase on the same spot, stilling in her journey to regain her breath and to keep her heart from climbing any further after the scare. She glanced up amidst the tangles of branches and thick vines reaching down towards her, and clouds of grayed leaves stretching further and further than she could possibly measure. A second sky. The thought made her lips almost quirk, taking note of the scattered slivers of silvered moonlight breaking through.

The bark cracked beneath her palms and her fingers sunk even further in for a hold as the broken pieces trickled away into the still air. She squinted, the moment of reverence gone and she grumbled again, reaching out for the nearest handhold.

Why was she even up here again?

Not too far above a branch shook wildly as something leapt towards Lucy, sending down a shower of leaves to nestle themselves in her hair. Alongside the rest of the leaves she'd gathered along the way. With a light grunt he landed with ease on a thick branch a bit closer to where she was, peering at Lucy owlishly through the gloom from his odd choice of position. He hung by the backs of his knees like it was nothing, barely even swaying in his upsided downedness. The green of his eyes were almost eerie in the darkness as they ran over her unblinkingly. His arms were crossed, head tilted in a silent question of 'you good?'

Right, Natsu asked her too.

It was well after the fire died down yet sleep had failed to claim her, staring blankly up at the  paled clouds of leaves with a blankness on her mind that she couldn't quite place. Which was odd really, her mind felt so full but full of just, nothingness. Lucy's eyebrows knitted together in slight confusion at her thoughts, her attention shifting to the almost empty sleeping bag near her housed by a lone exceed who took it all in tow, sprawled out in content slumber in its center. 

Weariness should've been on her, and it was- a weak thrum in her bones that was all too familiar but it didn't bring with it the calming lull of rest. Something that was happening all too frequently in the recent days. Sad now that she was getting used to it.

She didn't bat an eye when her partner dropped silently down in front of her, already used to his night time wanderings through the trees. It was something he always did during missions, getting a feel of each place and maybe snag a souvenir or two. He'd given her a blank look, though Lucy thought it speckled with concern as he silently pointed above. A second later he was already on the lowest branch, staring down expectantly for her to follow. And she knew he wouldn't budge unless she did.

Lucy fixed him with a slight nod that she was fine but his eyes narrowed disbelievingly, pointedly eyeing the freshly broken branch above her head. 

"Do you need some help getting up Lucy?" His voice bounced around the air, sounding louder in her ears than it should be. "It's kinda a long ways up."

"I can manage just fine Natsu." Lucy responded. She sucked in a deep enough breath and hoisted herself higher, feeling his eyes upon her back as she continued her ascent. Silly as it may be she still remembered his relentless teasing on a mission a few months ago when she needed his help to get down 'cause a bandit left her stuck in a tree. And he still liked to bring it up with an all too gleeful grin. 

So no, she'd make this climb up the tree to see whatever he wanted to show her without help thank you very much. No need to give him more ammunition for future teasings.

Lucy progressed smoothly without any mishaps, the repetitive motions almost calming as they started to come naturally, the crunch of bark under her palms a welcome sound. Natsu hung close from nearby branches, oddly quiet save for the few huffs and grunts between each jump.

He was being so cryptic, it almost had her worried at his silence and pinched brows. What was it he wanted to show her? He'd left the question relatively unanswered, giving her just another silent point to the sky then hopped along.

Treetops. Lucy silently corrected herself. The trees stretched on forever upwards and the forest they traversed through almost endless. She hadn't seen the sky in forever it felt like, only tasting its presence when it broke through the treetops.

Absently Lucy grasped for another handhold, fingers curling tightly on a thick branch that left her hold before she could even pull herself up properly. The arm that snuck itself around her middle was a familiar one, and Natsu snickered at her surprised squeak. "You made it up this far just fine. Lemme take care of the rest of the journey for ya."

Lucy opened her mouth for a quick retort but he cut her off as he easily clambered up the tree effortlessly even with an arm around her, wrapping a vine around his wrist to swing up and higher. They were moving faster than she could on her own and her hands cried out in relief at no longer having to grab at roughened bark. But she still wore a soft pout. He better not use this as fresh teasing ammunition.

A chill rushed over Lucy and she realized with a startled blink that they almost neared the top, the night breeze playfully nipping at her skin. She hadn't felt that in a while. The air on the ground was so still and dead. And as Natsu broke the pair through the treetops, stuffy. Lucy greedily gulped in a lungful.

It was cold, colder than she expected and from below it was a sky but now as her partner helped her up, she saw how far it stretched. The second sky now a sea of trees that seemed to curl into waves the further out it went. 

It was beautiful.

Natsu slipped from her side and she cursed at his warmth leaving her so swiftly. Lucy took a step to follow behind him but almost tumbled face first into the leaves. Then the thought struck her. They were hundreds, maybe even closer to thousands of feet in the air. One wrong step could send her careening wildly to the forest floor. She quickly plopped herself down. Best stay put.

Better instead to watch her partner, better trusting of the trees and bounding across their tops, searching the skies intently for, something up there. Lucy's eyes flitted up. Cignus, Big dipper, Aquila, Orion. Everyone was out tonight with not a cloud in sight for them to shy away.

"There!" Natsu exclaimed, pulling her out of her thoughts with a jolt. He pointed excitedly at a cluster of stars, 14 to be exact that Lucy knew all too well.

"That's it isn't it?" He asked quickly. "Your favourite one right? Cephus?"

"Cepheus, and yeah." Lucy corrected, slightly confused. "What about him?" She stared at him rather blankly and the air turned somewhat awkward. Natsu's eyes roamed her face, finding only blank confusion that made his hand and shoulders fall. He pulled at his scarf.

"Nothing." Natsu said, the nonchalance in his voice painfully obvious. "I just thought it was cool is all." Lucy fixed him with a look, a well honed skeptical one that made him look away sheepishly to the night sky.

"C'mon Natsu, I know you didn't make me climb a tree just to see the sky." Lucy joked, picking at the leaves she was comfortably seated on. "There's always something more with you." Natsu's fingers ran through the tassles on his scarf, a habit he tended to do when he was mulling things over. He gnawed on his lip slightly, brows brought low in thought.

"Not….not this time i guess." He said simply, glancing back at her. A silence floated between his words before he spoke again, pacing atop the treetop. "We've been walking through these woods for days now trying to get to the next town and it feels like forever, and that we're walking in circles and i feel like it's kinda my fault since i made us miss the train and all and well-"

His mouth snapped shut with a sharp click! of his teeth and he shook his head hard to get rid of the rambling thoughts and he sat down.Natsu turned his head to her with fingers still tangled in the tassles and a heaviness in his voice.

" I just felt bad y'know?" He continued quietly. He kept a steady gaze with her but they shook, like his eyes desperately wanted to dart away. "Having ya stuck in these dark woods, and worse you're not sleeping much. It wasn't sitting right with me. And i know that this isn't a fix it to the problem, but if you're gonna be up all night then i made sense to me to at least let you see the stuff you love about it so much?"

Natsu's lips thinned, a tinge of darkness soaking into his cheeks when the last words left his tongue. He finally took the chance to look away, his eyes ducking low. "It sounds kinda stupid now that i said it out loud……" he mumbled.

Lucy watched as he ran a nervous hand through his tousled hair, shaking free the last of the leaves that made home there. And her lips quirked at the sincerity of his words

No. It's not." Lucy mused. "It's really thoughtful of you." Cautiously she stood on shaky legs, not quite trusting the thicket of closely knitted leaves and stumbled closer to him. "It isn't your fault for any of this. And i've just had a lot of…..nothing on my mind to think about. But it's really sweet of you to do this for me."

Lucy plopped down next to him and shoved his shoulder playfully, a relieved smile already growing on his face as he dramatically fell to the side with a laugh. She leaned back on her elbows, gazing thoughtfully up at the clear night sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen and yet, everything was so bright, the stars countless in their neverending clusters and the familiar touch of their light on her skin. She really did miss them.

"Hey Lucy," Natsu piped up beside her. "If you can't sleep again tomorrow i'll carry you up here again. If you want."

"And you won't let me climb up halfway by myself first?" She teased.

"Hey i was gonna carry you up from the get go but i saw that look on your face  and knew you probably wouldn't let me even if i asked you on the ground." He smirked gleefully at her. "Am i wrong?"

Lucy stuck out her tongue at him. "Maybe. But i think i'd like that Natsu. I'd like that a lot."

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fanfiction #natsu x lucy #ft nalu #ft natsu #ft lucy #natsu fairy tail #fairy tail lucy #hope ya like this!!!!! #nalu nerds #what a phoenix can do

[sketches-of-stories]

Glass Shards

It had been exactly nine days since Azar the fire nymph had been stuffed roughly into the lamp that was now her home and prison. Exactly nine days since she had been taken from Flint, her human friend, and caregiver. Azar had started tallying the days on the glass bottom with broken bits if half-burnt matches. In the nine days, she had been imprisoned by the Orc Lord, Azar had seen many different creatures. Hobgoblins, orcs, elves, the occasional human, and other nymphs but none of them were willing to help her. The door of the tent, containing her lamp, was snapped open revealing Warog the Orc Lord. 

"Light," he barked out the command as he had done for the past nine days. Azar rolled her eyes as she ignited her fire-proof hair. "Ahhh," he sighed. Even his sighs were rough, like sandpaper scratching yet forming words. "That's better." He lumbered over to the lamp and peered down at her with one yellowish eye. "But why is your light dimmer?" Azar's dark cheeks flared angrily. She thought of Flint who would never ask such stupid questions. Everyone knew a fire nymph's flame would begin to burn out when he or she wasn't properly cared for. And the nymph would begin to die. 

Azar snorted disgustedly. There was no way that she would die because of some idiotic orc, who wouldn't care for her properly. "Watch your tone missy. You'll get into a mite of trouble with that attitude," he said shaking his head disapprovingly. "So, why are you burning low?" What could she say? Obviously she couldn't just say something about how she was slowly dying because of lack of care. 

"I have a rare disease." Hmmm. How to work with this? If she said the wrong thing it would be the end of the road. "It causes my flame to burn low from time to time. That's all." Warog rolls his eyes. "Meh. I need light to calculate my sales." That was another constant over the nine days. Every night he came in to calculate his sales. Azar had begun to think this Orc Lord was a merchant type.

No matter what he was he sat at his table and added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided until he came up with a total and left the room until nightfall. Today's process seemed slower than usual, but after a while Azar saw Warog tidying up his desk area. It was strange, she thought to herself, that such an ugly, stupid-looking creature could actually be somewhat smart. She laughed softly.

"Off," he grunted. Nevermind, thought Azar irritably as she extinguished her light. The Orc Lord lumbered out of the room leaving her alone in her lamp. As soon as she was sure he was out earshot she started mumbling to herself, trying to formulate a plan I'd escape. After several long hours of planning, tears, and banging her head repeatedly against the walls of her prison, Azar hatched a plot.

Step 1: Wait until midnight. Warog and everyone else in his camp would be asleep except the Nightwatch. And she would be too small to be seen.

Step 2: Break her lamp prison. Quietly of course. Well, as quietly as possible, she reasoned.

Step 3: The easiest step by far. Climb down the table and sneak out of the camp. Fire nymphs lived in small rocky caves, so Azar was a natural climber.

Step 4: Hide for the night and rest until she could find Flint. Or died trying.

"Four easy steps, four easy steps, four easy steps." She chanted the same thing over and over until it was embedded in her mind. As the night wore, on the chant was the only thing that kept her awake.

Finally after what seemed like years Warog strode into the tent, changed (Azar averted her eyes. She did NOT want to see that ugly brute changing), and laid down on his cot. A few minutes later he began to snore. An hour later Azar began to shake her enclosure, trying to knock it over and break it.

"Almost there," Azar grunted through gritted teeth. The lamp fell to itS side and shattered with a crash. Desperately she looked at the sleeping figure praying that he hadn't woken up. He hadn't.  

She picked herself off the wooden tabletop and dusted off the ash, clinging to her tunic. "Not a scratch!" Carefully she took a step forward. A sharp pain seared through her foot. "Bandit's bum," she cursed sitting down to examine her foot. A shard of glass no bigger than a pebble had embedded itself in her foot. She had no way of taking it out safely.

"Guess that will have to wait." Gingerly Azar limped over to her broken match calendar and pulled one of the larger pieces aside. She then used a shard of glass, to cut a thin strip of cloth from her toga and tied it around her injured foot. "Alright," she whispered to herself. "Just use the match to pull yourself up," she trailed off with a sharp intake of breath, as her foot seared. “Ok. Slower this time." Over the course of about five minutes Azar managed to use the broken piece of wood to haul herself upright into a standing position. She let out a long shaky breath before hobbling nearer to the table's edge. Soon she realised exactly how hard it would be to climb down the table leg with an injured foot. Azar steadied herself and once again began to inch toward the edge. Her leg seared with every step she took but, she reasoned, if I can escape it will have been worth it.

The edge of the table was like a cliff dropping off into the sea. The hard ground was far below. The thought of hitting the ground made Azar shiver, but she didn't let it stop her. Slowly she lowered herself over the edge and onto the table leg. It had no handholds, but had a single ledge, spiraling down the side. If Azar slipped and fell from this height she would surely die. 

Softly, she limped down the ledge, praying not to fall. As she walked, the pain in her foot increased. Azar tasted blood, but still bit harder on her lip to keep from screaming in pain. After what felt like hours Azar reached the bottom. "Finally," she muttered, as she breathed a sigh of relief. The silent tent did not respond and thankfully, neither did it's occupant. Tiptoeing as well as she could with the glass shard still embedded in her foot, Azar tiptoed across the room. In a rush she ducked under the tent flap and stood triumphant in the fresh night air. A gust of cold wind whipped her hair around in her face, as she stood exposed for anyone to see her. Azar didn't care. She was free and on her way to find Flint. Life was finally going right!

The moon was still in the sky as she set out on the last step of her journey, hide and rest for the night. Avoiding the dead leaves scattered everywhere she half ran, half limped to the outskirts of the encampment. The wind whipped her hair and tunic all around her. Azar shivered as the wind began to grow cold. "Ouch, ouch, ouch." Every step caused more pain in her foot but still she continued. She was free. Nothing could stop her now! The edge of the encampment was near, she only needed to crawl under the makeshift gate that was the entrance and exit. 

Azar was biting her lip harder now. She couldn't make a sound. Not when she was this close to escape. She could see the other side through the cracks in the gate. No glass lamps, no orcs, and no burning low. And Flint, her friend and caregiver was somewhere beyond this wall looking for her. Victory was in reach.

She looked back at the tent she had been imprisoned in for the past few days. It was smaller than it had looked like from the lamp, not that Azar cared. Anger bubbled up inside of her and for a brief second she considered burning it. She decided against it after realizing how much walking would be involved, but she spat in it's general direction.

Slowly she sunk to her hands and knees, preparing to crawl under. A leaf crunched under her hand. A rustling noise sounded from the other side. Her eyes went wide. Her heart thudded. Someone or something had heard her! Silently she waited on hands and knees, eyes wide and breath held. The sound subsided.

Azar let out her breath slowly. She could see through the cracks and none of Warog's guards were outside the gate. She slid under the crack in the gate. "Hello," she called out softly. "Is- is anyone there?" No answer, the trees were silent other than the faint sound of wind through leaves. "See Azar. Nothing is out there." Still she wasn't so sure. Yes she was free, but she felt as if she was trapped again. Trapped in the gaze of something hidden. She reached down and picked up a stick from the forest floor. If worse came to worst she would us her hair to ignite the stick and burn whatever was watching her. If she got the chance.

Azar ran as well as she could with her injury and pushed through the bush ahead of her. She couldn't help it. She screamed. Azar didn't care if Warog found her. She needed to get away. Inside the bush was what looked like a dead body. The dead body of someone she knew. The dead body of Flint. The body jerked up at the sound of her scream. It was Flint but he wasn't dead. A bit scratched and bruised but alive.

"Who's there," he asked sharply. He was not half asleep and mumbly like he normally was. Tonight he was alert and wary. "Where are you? What have you done with Azar? What have you done with my friend?" He drew his dagger with a faint scraping sound.

"Flint it's me! It's Azar!" She limped to his side. His eyes widened.

"But, how? I thought you would be imprisoned in something not roaming around." For the first time in nine days Azar smiled. Really smiled. Flint had come to save her. Her best friend was here with her. She didn't need to search. She wasn't going to die.

"I um... escaped. By myself." She tried to make her tone light and casual. Flint would know the truth though. He would know how she had cried the first day and a half because if how scared and alone she had felt. He would know the anger she had felt moments before she had found him. And he would know the despair she had felt when she had begun to burn low, trapped dying in a lamp as a slave. 

"We need to go. They'll be looking for you in the morning. We need to get as far away as we can." Flint looked down at her and noticed her bandaged foot and ripped tunic. "As soon as we're safe I'll fix you up and get you a change of clothes ok."

"Ok."Azar nodded. The weight of her many late and sleepless nights seemed to be crashing down on her all at once. Flint could tell. He placed his hand on the ground and allowed her to step into his palm. Slowly so he wouldn't drop her he raised his hand to his pocket. Carefully he slid her inside. Azar curled up in the corner, safe at last. Flint rose and began to walk. As the pocket rocked Azar slowly drifted off to sleep, warm and safe in the coat pocket of her best friend.

"Good night Azar." Flint touched his pocket lightly to ensure she was safe and walked onward. No one was going to get her away from him. Flint would make sure of that.  

#writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #fantasy #fantasy world #magic

[ballympics]

Semifinals: Bede vs Florie

@rivalbede​ @aether-florie​

“Iiiit’s Ladies’ Night here at the Summer Ballympics!”

“Just for the record, it’s actually midday.”

“I was speaking metaphorically. But thank you, Oleana! I appreciate your helpful addition! Today, the two loveliest ladies will be going head to head in a battle to see who’s fastest, who’s deftest, who’s got the most grit!” 

“We should also note that both young women were also largely responsible for propelling their team to the Semifinals. One was a literal hair’s breadth away from tying with the Elemental Trio, who we’ll be seeing more of later.”

“But back to today’s event! Let’s see if both ladies can make up ground where their captains sadly fell short. On your mark… Get set… GO!”

Obstacle 1: The Angry Stunfisk -- Bede: 164 seconds ; Florie: 131 seconds (Repeat Ball Save!)

“And we’re off! Ooh, both ladies seem pretty shaky on their feet here. Most people really struggle with this obstacle, huh?”

“It’s fair to say that every obstacle is really causing strife with all the competitors today… Not being sure of your footing is a hard thing to deal with…”

“Uh-oh. Florie just fell down into the river, but she’s holding up her Repeat Ball Pin. Bali, do your stuff! Use Teleport!”

Bali let off a series of clicks, its pink eyes glowing as it concentrated on its target. In a fraction of a second, Florie was standing exactly where she needed to be, and continued on her way, crossing much slower than she had been.

“There we are -- right as rain! But, ah, oh no! Dee fell into the water, too! You’re doing amazing, sweetie! Keep at it!”

“She only has a Fast Ball Pin, so she’ll be forced to swim all the way to the beginning and try again, whereas Florie can press on, much as she has been. We’ll likely see her reach the second obstacle soon…”

Obstacle 2: Big Red Pokeballs -- Florie (ahead): 76 seconds

“Spectacular… Florie has just reached the Big Red Balls, and seems to have hit her stride. She’s crossing them all quite confidently, though she doesn’t display the same easy comfort as some earlier contestants. But it does end up saving her some time over her earlier misstep…”

Obstacle 2: Big Red Pokeballs -- Bede (behind): 175 seconds

“Oh, but here comes the lovely Devine, herself! Can she manage to cross all of the inflated balls efficiently, and pull out into the lead?”

“Oh… Apparently not. She lost her balance going across the first one and landed back into the water… Time will tell if she even gets to the third obstacle after two tragic time losses like that…”

“Have courage in my protege, Oleana! She brought her team to victory once, and she can surely do it again!”

Obstacle 3: Obstagoon’s Sucker Punch -- Florie (ahead): 208 seconds (Eliminated)

“I’m rather nervous about her chances with this, Mr. Chairman… Florie has already used her Repeat Ball Pin earlier in the course, so she has to make the entire thing first try.”

“Let’s see if the first person to best the Sucker Punch at its own game will be Miss Florie!”

“After studying the pattern for as long as time will allow, she tentatively grabs onto the nearest handhold and starts trying to go as quickly as possible--”

“Ouch! That hit her right in her nose! Oh, Oleana, I’m not too sure about this course… An awful lot of people seem to be getting hurt by it!”

“Well, no one has been incapacitated so far, so I suppose that’s a good thing…”

“Brave Florie seems to be withstanding the barrage of strikes, though she’s been significantly slowed down by that first hit…” 

“It seems another shot to her torso is what took her down in the end. I doubt she’ll have enough time to get back up and do two more courses, so we should look to see how Bede is doing.”

Obstacle 3: Obstagoon’s Sucker Punch -- Bede (behind): 164 seconds (Eliminated)

“Miss Dee is just getting to the platform, but I’m worried about her chances as well. Even with the Fast Ball bonus, she has less than a minute to take on both of these formidable obstacles! Do you think she can do it, Oleana?”

“If we’re being honest, no, I do not. But I’ve been surprised before.”

“That’s the spirit! Go on, Bede, we’re rooting for you--Oh no.”

“Erm… She was trying to reach for the first hand hold, but while trying to dodge out of the way of a strike, she lost her grip and fell into the water without being punched…”

“Th… That’s okay, sweetie! Your face is too precious to be marred by that dreaded machine anyway! Bravo!”

“Next up is Raihan vs Daniel, but both teams haven’t had a single win yet… Hopefully we’ll reach a satisfying conclusion by that match’s end, but the Chairman and I will figure out an alternative method of scoring, should the worst come to pass. Thank you very much for your vested interest, Galar, and we’ll see you soon.”

#aether florie #rivalbede #{ic}; off to the races #[ 2020 ballympics: galarian ninja ]

[delicatebluebirdruins]

The Hunger Games movie

1. reading is a step down from narration (thought it in Cinema Sins voice)

2. some mixed feelings about the speech (not entirely sure why tho) but Cinema Wins helped with that

3. I love the addition of the deep in the meadow to calm Prim

4. kitty cat

5. hello favourite screenshot

6. such a fan of the soundtrack

7. why is Katniss hunting deer on reaping day

8. Gale’s little sister got forgotten along with the rest of his siblings and mother (whelp posy just got forgotten was my exact wording on my scrap paper)

9. “is this real?” Nah Kat its a well painted rock

10. oh Madge you aged fabulously “whimpers softly”

11. “as long as you have it” its 50/50 when you think about it

12. excellent shaky cam but it would be more scary if they were POV shot from the different children

13. I wonder how the film/book would be different if it followed Kat around at school for the day

14. I love that moment just after Prim’s name is read out that wordless shock

15. I remember watching the volunteer clip in the trailer back in 2012 when we were on holiday around the time we (mum, dad and I) first read the book

16. the greater reaction to the Peeta’s name being reaction

17. Gale’s line “its no different” about killing people is something I always kind of found chilling

18. the music and the expression on Kat’s face when watching the rerun of a previous game is chilling

19. seeing the Capital is a fave scene because of how different it is from 12

20. compliments of Peeta

21. hello creepy silent prep team

22. Cinna!!!

23. the reactions to the tribute parade from Everlark, the presents, the public and Snow

24. I love the score during the parade and of course Everlark holding hands

25. don’t really care for the flames suddenly going out tbh

26. Hi Cato

27. I kind of love the room Katniss is in and what she’s wearing

28. the changing wallpaper (?) is fun

29. what is foxface doing during the training?

30. more compliments

31. yes show that arm strength

32. I really am not a fan of the women gamemakers being excluded (as in the official ones not the techies)

33. I love Katniss shooting the arrow out of the pigs mouth

34. I love the theme for Katniss

35. I love the speech about hope in the rose garden

36. the interview dress is so very underwhelming

37. nah Prim didn’t say goodbye to Katniss what a shocking idea

38. I love the interview between Peeta and Caesar- the little hum Peeta did when smelling Caesar- the mirroring of the way they’re sitting

39. hello the not roof scene

40. Cinna :(

41. Hi Gale

42. I call the countdown to the damn you Garry Ross segments when it comes to Peeta

43. I don’t know why I really love the scene of Katniss going the bag

44. I’m kind of a fan of the tech for showing the tributes in the sky

45. the filmmakers are cowards for not showing a more extreme extent of everyone’s wounds

46. hello fireballs

47. i love the river

48. Peeta staring up at Kat is great

49. i love the sound of the parachute

50. Glimmers death is brutal and ugly and I love it though why couldn’t they have made the realities of the injuries the main cast go through just more there (true not everyone pulls off the beaten to a pulp look but still)

51. the hallucinations are great even if I don’t understand why Caesar is there

52. Hello Rue- I love Rue

53. how are the leaves staying on Kat’s arm?

54. I love the “is all of that true? You and him” scene and Rues smile

55. the hug; the music and of course Ca Boom Bitches

56. Rue seems so young when she’s trapped- and I only just realised that whilst Kat was singing we slip into Rue’s POV and see the screen fade to white

57. the salute and the riot in D11

58. the search for Peeta is great-- I have mixed feelings about the notes with sponsor gifts but meh

59. I dislike the “watching you go home everyday”

60. Peeta: If I die... Kat: NO

61. the way Claudius says “generous hosts” is something I always find creepy

62. Kat could have just stabbed Clove with arrow instead of trying to shoot her with it (did I watch a certain Narnian Queen do the same thing earlier on? Maybe)

63. I love the scene earlier on in the film with Thresh smiling up at Rue because it just makes this scene better as well

64. lovingly tending the others wounds? CHECK

65. I love the smile Katniss makes after Peeta makes the joke about the bow

66. (about the mutts at the end) When the dvd for this film first arrived I watched it first and I got in trouble with my mother for doing so but I reminded her of some of the things that happened because my sister wanted to watch it and yeah mum lost her argument because my prior knowledge did stop my sister getting really scared (I’m very proud of her despite her not reading the books she is still a Everlark shipper)

67. the nightlock scene is good but it could have been better

68. goodbye beard man

69. I have mixed feelings about Katniss talking to Haymitch on the... hey is that a rooftop?

70. I also have mixed feelings about the interview at the end (though I do like “we saved each other”)

71. i love the homecoming and the handholding

72. that one person in the gamemaker room whistling at the feed of Katniss and Peeta holding hands is kind of me

73. Abraham’s Daughter should always be paired with a dramatic walk somewhere- and I love it

74. Safe and Sound is such a lovely song

#thgmovie #long post #thgmovies

[jasminehoneytea]

smug ~ b.h

“ben has a crush on you!”

“KLAUS.”

“what? i had to! i’m sick of you talking about how in love you are.”

“i’m not in love-“ ben pauses and turns to me instead. “i’m not in love with you.”

“would it be so bad if you were?” i don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but i’ve decided to go with it.

he blinks twice, staring at me with those dark eyes. i stare right back. i wish i knew what he was thinking. i hear klaus stumble out of the garden to give us privacy but my eyes don’t leave ben’s.

he swipes his tongue over his lip nervously before saying, “seventeen is...” he clears his throat softly. “seventeen is too...too young to...be in love...with someone.” his words come out slow, like he’s afraid to mess up what he’s saying, or that he’ll slip up and say something he’s too scared to admit. i decide to take control of the situation, slide over to him, laying down and resting my chin in my hands just so i can look up at him.

“says who?”

i think i like making him nervous. it’s not my fault he looks that cute: fingers twirling around a blade of grass he’s picked and eyes flickering everywhere. and it’s definitely not my fault that a few waves fell loose from his slicked back hair, and that he doesn’t wear his uniformed blazer in the summer and decides to roll up the sleeves of his white collared shirt, purposely missing just one or two buttons on the top to make him look like he’s out of a jane austen novel.

i didn’t ask him to do that.

he doesn’t say anything and neither do i, just to mess him for a bit. i stare at him for a few moments before playing with a dandelion.

he clears his throat again.

“sorry, did you need something?”

“you’re going to play it that way, aren’t you?”

i nod. “it’s fun to make you squirm.”

ben doesn’t reply. i’m used to him being quiet. quiet ben hargreeves with a book and cup of green tea (iced with lemon in the summer, hot with honey in the winter) always in hand. i liked being quiet with him, it was nice to get away from the chaos of life and, for him, the chaos of his family. but this time, the quiet feels strange. a minute goes by and i can still feel his eyes on me. i try to not humor him, to not meet his gaze, but i can’t tell if he’s actually looking at me or if i’m just crazy, so i look up and there he is: ben hargreeves staring right at me.

and yet, even though he’s nervous, he’s still got that playfully flirty glint in his eyes as he looks down at me. he still looks at me like he knows something about us that i don’t. i didn’t ask for that either.

and now i’m the one who’s nervous.

“don’t look at me like that.“ i quip.

he murmurs a ‘like what?’, even though he knows exactly what he’s doing, and i watch as he takes the leatherbound book that’s been resting on his legs (which, by the way, are crossed at the ankles and it’s absolutely so ben of him to do) and set it on the grass next to him. a bold move really, putting his own book aside and giving me his undivided attention.

i squint at him and push myself up by the elbows so that i’m kneeling, trying to be at least a little taller than him. “all smug like that. stop it.” he’s still looking at me and for once in the thirteen years that i’ve known ben hargreeves, i can’t tell what this expression means.

we keep alternating between being nervous and smug. i think, deep down, we’re nervous and just covering it up by flirting. but now i don’t know what to think.

he doesn’t even bother to respond. then, strangely enough, a smirk rises to his face. i start with a “what are you doing?” but i don’t even make it past ‘you’. his head swoops down to capture my lips in his and at first, i don’t know what to do. his hand reaches up to hold my arm, which i’m thankful for due to the fact that i’m about to fall over. i make sure to kiss him back and that he knows i’m kissing him back. i lift my hands from the grass, warm from the sun, to grab onto him for stability (and let’s be honest, i love being in his arms). he lets me run my hand in his hair, messing up its perfection, while the other rests on his chest. he laughs against my lips when i twirl his hands through mine and i couldn’t be more happy. we pull back for a quick second to breathe before i kiss him, wanting to be the one to initiate it this time.

“does this make us...anything?” i ask when he reluctantly moves away. he leans his cheek against the tree and watches me.

“do you want it to?” his voice is shaky, but in a cute way.

“do you want it to?” i ask.

he nods slowly, contemplating. i stare at him until he looks down at me and gives me a teasing smile. “what, am i supposed to act like i haven’t wanted this since we were twelve?”

“five!” klaus’ distant voice calls from inside. the window has been popped open and the curtains drawn aside. ben’s cheeks heat up and he goes quiet again.

i snicker. “so you are in love with me. not so smug now, are we, benny boy?”

he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the nickname he’s pretended to hate for thirteen years. do you not remember about two minutes ago when i had you melting underneath me?”

“right, like you weren’t stuttering seconds before that.” i grin.

he scoffs, feigning offendance. he gives me a sharp glare as he says, “i may just have to kiss you again.”

“oh, what a tragedy.” i exclaim as he grabs my wrists to pull me to him.

we’re kissing and i ignore the impulse to tell him that his lips taste like iced green tea. with lemon. i do however, follow my instinct to tangle my hand in his hair. i know he’ll complain about it any moment, and he does stop kissing me for a nanosecond to roll his eyes at me and bump his nose against mine.

“is it always going to be like this?” he asks in between breaths. i ask him what he means and he smiles. “the two of us teasing back and forth until the one kisses the other. are we going to do this forever?”

i grin back. “yes, obviously, and we’ll talk about books and films too, like always. it’ll be just like normal but with a lot more handholding.”

“handholding?” he promptly interlocks our hands. i still keep one on the back of his neck to play with his hair.

“i like holding your hand.” i tell him. he raises his eyebrows questioningly and i know i’m blushing, but we’ve both had red cheeks for minutes now.

he makes a flirty comment and i swat his cheek gently. “hey, don’t look all smug.”

[reneeofthestars]

Inktober 2019

Day 11: Snow

Read a snippet below the cut!

Val had hardly turned away from shooting down one of the viper droids when another zoomed past her and fired. She didn’t have a chance to aim before one of its blaster bolts flashed and struck her blaster, the force of the hit knocking her back. She slipped on the ice-slicked durasteel and tumbled backwards, arms scrabbling for a handhold before she tumbled into empty air. Breathing heavily, Val hauled herself back behind the cover of the sensor tower, the viper droids taking up positions and firing rapidly at her. At least they didn’t have sense enough to move around the tower to shoot her.

The frigid air hurt her lungs, and the snowcapped mountains surrounding her reflected light painfully, but the whine of blasterfire and the spark of laser on metal held her attention.

“Val, you gotta get off that bridge! We’re here!” Beckett’s voice called faintly from the comm on her wrist.

Kriff, Val thought. She risked a glance around the sensor tower. She spotted the train hurling towards her, Rio’s ship wavering just above it, cables tethering the ship to the last car – and Enfys Nest’s goons on speederbikes, keeping pace with the train, trying to steal the coaxium out from under them –

A blaster bolt struck the durasteel and rained sparks around her. Val recoiled with a shout and ducked back behind the tower.

“They’ve got me pinned!” Val snarled into the comm. “I’m gonna have to finish the job from right here!”

“What?” Beckett’s voice cracked, high-pitched and – if Val didn’t know any better – near-hysterical.

Val smiled, partly to lighten her voice for him, partly to keep herself calm. “It’s been a ride, babe.” She took a shuddering breath, leaning her head briefly against the tower. She steadied her hand as she kept her wrist comm close to her mouth. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

That would mean more to him than any “I love you” she could utter. Beckett was a survivor. He’d be able to move on easily enough. Still, she would have kissed him a little longer if she’d realized it was the last time.

She dropped her gloved hand, fumbling instead for the controller in her jacket. As she pulled it out, she heard Beckett call out desperately, “Val – NO!”

If Val had been the type of person who thought about how she might die, blowing herself up to complete a heist would not have been first on the list, but it probably would have been in the top twenty. Death would come whenever it did, and as she pulled out the cylinder and gripped it tightly, she reasoned that this was as good a way to go as any. It was on her terms, and it would be quick. The detonators she’d placed on this section of track would guarantee that.

The droids were still shooting at her from behind the tower. She didn’t care about the sparks and bolts now. She had moved on.

Val flipped open the cap, the red button beneath filling her vision. Just a tap, and it would set off the bombs she’d placed. Her thumb hovered over it. She drew another shaky breath, the biting cold filling her lungs. Val looked up, watching snow fall around her, blanketing the craggy cliffs in a fine sheet of white.

Val exhaled, her own breath loud in her ears, drowning out all other noise.

Her thumb pressed down.

In the split second before the explosion, Val knew perfect stillness. Her choice was made. And she was at peace with it.

#2nd year of drawing val #I just really want more content for her #she was such a cool character for the short time we saw her #also I wish she had a last name so she was easier to search for #sw #star wars #inktober #inktober 2019 #inktoberday11snow #day 11: snow #val #solo #solo: a star wars story #star wars solo #tobias beckett #renee's art #renee's writing

[lynnpaper]

Hey :) Great work. Could you write something were Ahsoka gets a panic attack and Anakin and/or Obi-Wan help her?

I could! I'm writing this as a part 2 to this fic, but it works as a standalone too. :)

Read it on AO3

They’re sparring.

There is nothing unusual about that.

The temple training grounds are empty, the sun having set hours ago. She’s doing well—maybe the darkness gives her confidence, fuelled by the reassurance that Anakin must work harder to watch her strikes. All she sees is a dark whirl of robes and a blinding blue saber, and the twin blades in her own hands, so familiar they now feel like mere extensions of her arms.

But her opponent is one thing. Her surroundings are another.

So it’s no surprise when her back hits the wall, but she’s not prepared for her throat to close in.

It doesn’t have far to go—the hand around her windpipe does a good job of cutting her air off, but the unexpected terror pulls the very breath from her chest from the moment she feels stone against her skin, and suddenly she’s blind, her head spinning from the impact.

She should be able to push him off. She’s trained for this, her sabers are in her hands, and he’s standing right in front of her, five different openings for her to kick or shove at. It’s almost as if he wants to lose, practically inviting her to beat him away and draw her saber and press it to his neck. She should be pinning him to the ground right now, waiting for that blessed solah.

But she doesn’t, because she can’t.

The grip on her neck turns into a gnarled purple hand, the face of her beloved master into that of a rugged feline, the warmth of plasma blades into burning electro-whips. She’s not a padawan, but a slave; she’s not in the training courtyard, but in a secluded alley; she’s not in the Temple, full of comforting Force signatures, but alone, her voice too small to scream for help, her body too weak to resist the disgusting advances they’re making on her—

Ahsoka.

The grip on her throat falters. Her sabers fall somewhere beside her as she crumples to the ground.

Anakin goes with her. He pulls her away from the wall before she hits her head against it, but she pushes him off before he can do any more. A desperate sound tears from her throat, and horror floods his mind because he’s heard that before.

Anakin kneels in front of her. Her breaths come too quick, too shallow, and he belatedly wonders if she is dizzy yet. The darkness hides her face, and if it didn’t then he wouldn’t be able to see it anyway, for how she holds her gaze straight below his. Cowering.

Ahsoka scrabbles at the ground, the rough stone scraping her fingertips raw. The physical pain is a welcome reprieve from its counterpart in her mind. Her fingers wander, searching frantically for something to hold on to, something to ground her, some semblance of a handhold before she falls off the cliff.

“Breathe, Ahsoka,” she hears.

She can’t breathe. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Anakin soothes. “I know you can.”

“I can’t,” she gasps. She can’t.

“Hey,” Anakin says softly. It’s unfair that he’s calm. “Breathe with me, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka sobs, curling in on herself. Her chest hurts and her hands shake and her fingers are numb. There’s a nudge at her chin, cool as the night air, and she lifts her head almost on instinct before the nudge can turn into a push.

She meets his gaze. For once, she wonders how it would feel to not have the night vision of a predator—she wishes she didn’t have to see the sadness in his eyes as clear as day. Her species evolved to hunt, to seek out prey in lightless terrains. Not for this.

Anakin takes her hand, squeezes it tight. “Feel that?” he asks softly, calmly. It is hard to hide his own fear, hard to shape the words into what he wants them to be.

Ahsoka nods.

Good.

“Focus on my touch, alright?”

Please don’t touch me, she’d said.

“Okay,” Ahsoka rasps. Is that her voice? Force.

How she wishes he would wrap his arms tight around her. How she wishes he would hold her, the way he always does when she breaks. She would resist at first, but calm down soon after, because the warmth of Anakin’s arms could never be mistaken for the claustrophobic grip of that Zyge—

“Breathe, Ahsoka,” Anakin says again. It’s an order. But he doesn’t know—can he hold her? Will she shove him away? The mission on Zygerria ruined tactile comfort forever, and without it he doesn't know what to do.

Perhaps the darkness is a blessing. If Ahsoka saw Anakin’s distress in response to her panic, it would only make matters worse.

She tries again, for there is only one road out of this, and it is littered with broken glass.

The first true drag of air burns her throat, her chest aching as she takes a shuddering breath. She lets it out in a shuddering exhale, and starts again. Then reaches blindly in front of her, finding familiar cloth beneath her fingers.

Anakin embraces her tentatively. Tentatively, in case she recoils. Tentatively, in case she decides this is too much. Anakin Skywalker is not tentative—Anakin Skywalker rushes into things, instinct overriding rationality. His saber thinks before he does.

But he can make an exception. For her.

“You’re okay,” Anakin says softly, and if he can shape the words into something tangible and physical, then maybe the promise will hold. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Ahsoka’s breath hitches, and she shudders in his arms. Her chest is tight. Oxygen does not come easy.

This is her lifeline—this is what she holds on to when the current grows too strong. This is her determination, the friction that keeps her on her feet when the water lashes at her thighs and the rocks beat at her ankles.

Five things you see. A collar, a cage, a whip—

“I’m sorry,” she tries, in a voice which is not hers. There is nothing else to say.

“Don’t be,” he answers instantly. There is nothing else to reply.

Four things you hear. His voice, his voice, his voice, his voice—

She can say, with some degree of certainty, that she will not sleep tonight.

So Ahsoka searches for the old list in her mind, a growing collection of ways to stay awake, how to look alive, how to stave off exhaustion. Unfiltered, honest advice, scoured from conversations not intended for her to hear, passed between older padawans and knights. Hushed whispers in the barracks, the solemn voices of brothers trickling in like sand. Quiet fights between her master and his, which ultimately only served as eavesdropping practice for her.

Three—

“What happened there?” Anakin asks, a hand rubbing circles into her back.

Ahsoka takes another shaky breath. She’s good at learning things, but learning how to breathe again is far beyond her capabilities now. “When you held me—” She pulls back, unconsciously touching her neck with freshly scraped-raw fingertips, the phantom ache lingering like dirt on her skin.

Anakin takes her hand, guiding it away from her throat. He replaces it with his own, brushing over invisible bruises and a racing pulse; carefully tilts her chin up, his eyes tracing the smooth line of her neck, as if any marks will show at all in the muted light of the moon.

He is so gentle. Ahsoka cannot believe these are the same hands that knocked her against a wall, and held a lightsaber to her throat, and battered bruises into her shoulders before she learned how to dodge them. The same hands that untangled the beads hanging behind her lekku, and pulled her back to her feet every time she fell, and held her when nights were too long to sleep through alone.

Ahsoka places her hands over Anakin’s. The worn leather is smooth under her palms. “Felt like him,” she says hoarsely. A name waits behind her lips, bitter on her tongue. She so badly wants to spit it out, but she doesn’t have the energy left.

“Did I hurt you?” Anakin asks. He cares so much—it terrifies her.

Not in that way, no.

“No,” she whispers.

Anakin frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It’s difficult to find the right words at the moment. Anakin waits for them to find him instead, lest he say something wrong. Anakin is very good at that—saying something wrong.

“Let me try again,” Ahsoka whispers.

Anakin shakes his head. “Ahsoka—”

“I can do it. I won’t panic this time.” Some things are not worth crying over. But it’s an empty promise. Who is she to assume?

“No,” Anakin says firmly. “No more. We’re going home.”

It is impossible to fight him on this, so Ahsoka nods, pressing her face harder into his robes. Her weapons are somewhere behind her, waiting to be retrieved before she goes. The thought of searching around in the dark is vastly unappealing.

Yet his arms don’t loosen around her. She could argue that this is home, but—

“You ready?” Anakin asks. He almost hopes for her to say no, for it will give him a reason to stay longer, to hold her precious youth in his hands before it spills like water into desert sand. He wonders how much she has left—if he can afford to spill any more.

Ahsoka wipes at her face, her hand coming away wet. “Yes.”

Anakin takes her hand and pulls her to her feet, another moment to add to the hundreds before. He calls her sabers to his hands before she can, the quiet thump of metal hitting firm leather echoing quietly off the walls of the courtyard.

Ahsoka can only watch, a grey blankness filling the space of her mind previously occupied with some familiar form of devastating fear. She thinks, absentmindedly, that the hilts are so much smaller in his hands. It’s such a mindless, trivial realisation—hysteria offers to bubble up her throat, but she presses it down with her dread, lest Anakin think she is insane.

He must already think she is insane, for believing it will be any better if she tries again.

Ahsoka closes her eyes, still reeling from panic. Her arms hang slack by her sides. Anakin presses the weapons to her palms, shoto in her left and saber in her right.

The metal is cold. He closes her fingers over them, his gloves soft against her knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin says.

They stand there for a moment. Ahsoka breathes, relishing in the very fact that she can.

Someday the war will end. She knows it will end—it must end. And when it does, she and Anakin will scour the galaxy for slavers, and they’ll free every slave they can find. If she can spare one more padawan from what she’s seen, and if she can spare one more master from what Anakin now second guesses—then it all will have been worth it.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka,” Anakin says again.

“You couldn’t have known,” she replies, for it is the answer he wants and needs to hear, and she, here and now, must convince herself that it is also the truth.

Helplessness is not an emotion to be treated lightly, yet it is an emotion easy to forget. Anakin realises this as he searches her face for a flicker which would betray her, an excuse to keep her close for one more night, and finds nothing.

“Are you alright?” Ahsoka asks with a little frown, ignoring the fact that she had been the one hyperventilating on the ground mere minutes ago.

“I—” Anakin clears his throat before his voice can break on him, rearranging his features into a less expressive mask. “Yeah. I am. Why are you asking me?” He nearly laughs in disbelief. “Are you?”

“I think I am.” A nonchalant tilt of her head, moonlight reflecting off the white stripes on her lekku. “You can decide.”

You’re not, Anakin thinks, but he doesn’t say a word. What good will it bring?

#send me prompts! #anakin and ahsoka #hurt/comfort #angst #post zygerria #lynn writes #my fic #star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic

[voidendron]

Deep Blue Sea: Ch 2

Chapter 2: Starting Point Subnautica/JSE Egos Crossover

((  just a tidbit: Chase’s PDA’s voice has been replaced with Sean’s voice! the other survivors each have a different (non-canon or not appearing in this fic) Septic Ego as their own PDA ))

Warnings: Swearing, Minor Head Trauma Characters: Chase Brody POV: Chase Brody

Chase groaned as his eyes fluttered.

Then he coughed.

Then he jolted awake with a start as wide eyes set on the fire overtaking half of the lifepod.

“What?! No, no, no, shit!” He punched at the release for his harness. His frantic tapping was in syn with the headache pounding at his skull.

When the harness released he all but fell out of the chair in a scramble for the fire extinguisher. It was heavier than he remembered.

He continued coughing and wheezing as he put the fire out before throwing the extinguisher to the side and scaling the ladder to throw the top hatch open. Smoke billowed after him as he threw himself down on his back on top of the pod, suppressing a hiss at the bright sunlight.

The pod rocked gently beneath him. All that did was contribute to the nausea he could feel building in his stomach. He forced himself to swallow past it and pressed a hand to the bloody welt in his head. He pushed himself to sit up and squinted down at his PDA as he turned it on. It booted in Emergency Mode, only to immediately go on to tell him he’d suffered minor head trauma.

“Well, no shit,” he muttered.

He fiddled with the device for a bit, cursing and mumbling to himself as he viewed the alarmingly limited data it carried in Emergency Mode. Until he made it back to Alterra to have it reset to its original mode, he didn’t have any of his old files. He couldn’t even check in with his maintenance crew, dammit!

A splash to his right startled him and nearly made him drop his PDA.

When he turned to look, the color drained from his face. He was…he was surrounded by water. No land in sight, while the Aurora’s remains loomed in the distance where it had settled to the ocean floor.

He was stranded. On an alien planet. In the middle of the ocean. With no land in sight.

Chase choked on a sob when it finally hit him.

He couldn’t see any other lifepods. What if—no, no. Don’t think that way. They were small. Maybe they were just…too hard for him to see?

He could see a sand floor beneath his pod. The middle of the ocean, and he was in shallows?

Little…fish, swam about. They didn’t look like any of the fish he’d seen in pictures; with massive eyes that took up a good portion of their bodies, funny shapes. One looked more like a decoration or household appliance than a living creature. Occasionally, one of the eye-fish would jump out of the water. That would explain the splash he heard.

A shake of the head and Chase slide back into the lifepod. Rescue had to be coming, right? It had happened so fast, though… What if the Captain hadn’t had time to send out a distress signal? He knew Keen would have done so in the Captain’s place, if not for the fact that the First Officer was just as stranded as he was. That was, if Keen had even survived landing. Chase racked his brain for what problems Lifepod 19 had. He couldn’t recall, and his PDA was no help in its current setting.

Chase just huffed a sharp breath and sat himself next to the storage compartment. Check your supplies, Brody. Remember the survival training the entire damn crew had to go through.

No air tanks. No swim gear (thank god his work attire was waterproof). He didn’t even have a repair tool, scanner, or Seaglide.

Okay.

We’ll start from scratch, then.

Chase shuffled toward the fabricator as it prepared blueprints, altering the original ingredients as needed to be materials it detected on nearby areas of the planet.

Huh. So that’s how they worked. He’d always wondered how they’d work on alien planets that maybe didn’t have the materials the original item blueprint required. It was just replacing materials with the best substitutes, if not altering the print itself entirely.

A survival situation wasn’t exactly the way he’d wanted to learn that, however.

He’d tried waiting. Three hours had ticked by. Nothing.

He took a shaky breath as he made sure the ingredients showed up on his PDA, as he glanced to the bottom hatch of his pod.

He’d tried fiddling with the radio and damaged wiring where the panel had torn free, but without a repair tool he was out of luck. He could pull off the repairs just fine.

Just…not with his bare hands, unless he wanted to severely burn them or lose a finger or two.

Then, he’d studied the Aurora from atop Pod 5; wondered how anyone still on board could have survived its landing. If they had.

When the shock had faded away, Chase knew it would be a good long while before rescue came. He’d spent one of those three hours trying to calm himself after that realization hit him. They were so far out of Alterra space on this planet. Even when the company realized the ship was down, whether distress signals had gone out or not, it could be weeks—months!—before rescue was able to reach them.

No other option but to start scavenging up supplies he’d need.

He opened the hatch, kicked his feet at the water. Boy, he didn’t like this at all. He slipped on a pair of goggles (they were swimming goggles. Swimming goggles. As in, meant for the ship’s on-board pool and not a lifepod’s inventory. Where was the damn diving helmet? Or oxygen tank, for that matter?) and grimaced as he looked at the ocean just inches beneath him.

Steeling himself and taking in a gulp of air, Chase slid out of the lifepod.

The water stung the gash in his head. He kicked to the surface beside Pod 5 and placed a hand over it with a hiss. An alien planet. And it had a salt water ocean. That would be just wonderful when he needed drinking water.

Diving helmet. He needed one bad. Hey, at least the wound would be disinfected! he thought with a bitter laugh.

“’The Aurora will never go down,’” he parroted with a sneer. “Uncrashable my ass.”

He checked the materials for an oxygen tank and repair tool on his PDA, replaced it at his hip, took another breath of air, and dived.

Laughter to his left—yes, laughter, he wasn’t hearing things—startled him bad enough he swallowed a mouthful of water. He was forced to surface; spluttering and coughing as he treaded water, tried to pinpoint the noise. A large creature with a bulbous tail met his eye. It laughed again and his hair stood on end. There were two others farther away.

Chase backpedaled and the creature turned to swim lazily in the other direction, toward the other two. He’d…give them a wide berth.

Multiple times he’d kick frantically to the surface when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, then go right back under to grab as many supplies as he could before needing air again.

One oxygen tank later (low capacity. Why wasn’t there a blueprint for a high capacity tank?  Fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough) and he found himself glaring at his PDA. “The hell’s a ‘cave sulfur’?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay. Just. Check the nearby caves? There was one not far from his lifepod; if it was cave sulfur, it wouldn’t hurt to at least check there, right?

He fitted the mask back over his nose and mouth (he wanted a helmet. Not the little mask that was auto-constructed with the O2 tank. He needed a dive suit if he wanted the helmet) and cut toward the direction of the cave opening he’d seen.

Looking into it now, it was a lot darker than he would have liked. What if there was something predatory in there?

He gulped at the thought.

No flashlight, and it would be too easy to get disoriented underwater. Hopefully it was just a small cave…

Using just the weak light of his PDA’s screen, in he went.

It didn’t take long for him to discover the exploding fish.

Chase yelped when a round fish exited a flower-like pod and shot straight for him. He didn’t even process what was happening as he bolted back for the cave’s entrance. He’d scrabbled for a handhold in the rocks; ducked at the creature went right past his head. It proceeded to blow up a few meters away, startling one of the big-eyed fish into darting toward then away from Chase.

Okay. Watch for the weird pod thing that hid freaking exploding fish. Good to know.

“It would be best for your health to avoid the planet’s volatile fauna,” his PDA offered helpfully. All he could offer it was a glare. Cheeky bastard.

He resurfaced to let his tank refill, then went right back down to the cave. There had been something left in the pod after the fish left and—Well. It looked like the cave sulfur that the fabricator had very roughly tried to recreate how it thought the stuff would look.

Wonderful. Hopefully nothing else would need it because he did not want to meet any more of those buggers.

Okay, okay. Just get back to your pod and start repairing shit, dude, he thought. At least now he’d be able to send out a distress signal once the fabricator built this little tool. If it was this much of a hassle to scrounge up supplies for a repair tool, he didn’t want to know how hard other stuff would be. Hopefully rescue would come before he had to figure that part out.

A shake of the head and he pushed himself away from the storage compartment just as the fabricator was finishing.

Repair tool. Finally.

He snatched it up and ducked around the ladder to start working on the radio.

He willed its cables to stitch themselves back together while careful to keep his fingers away from the end of the tool; spliced wires that had been split apart. It was a patch job, but all he could do without actual parts for repairing. It would work, at the very least, to send out and pick up distress signals. He wasn’t sure it could handle having a message sent out, though. He’d have to settle for just the signal.

Now, to just try and relax while he waited for—

“Seek fluid intake.”

“Goddammit.”

#fanfic #writersofjack #jacksepticeye #chase brody #subnautica crossover #deep blue sea #dbs ch2 #blitz indites #swearing /

[geethedentist]

The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up on the Chapter 1 here! 

Chapter 2: Not Alone Anymore

Three Months Earlier 

It’s odd how quickly one’s life can change, not that mine had gotten off to a swell start anyway. Happenstance and fate become intertwined to create what you never thought possible. For years I clung firmly to the belief that I was a walking attraction for rotten luck. It took a fair bit of time, but much later I realized I was wrong. 

I had been walking relentlessly for three days, feet throbbing with each step. The rolling, rocky hills now behind me, I had entered an expanse of forest. Sheer exhaustion necessitated an overnight rest in a large, green glade. I had all but collapsed onto the soft grass the previous day. There was a small pool of water, and it was warm and peaceful. But it was time to get moving. An uneasy twinge of fear lurked at the back of my mind. I packed up my tiny camp, glancing nervously over my shoulder like a skittish animal. It was eerily silent, which could only foretell yet another (possibly deadly) predicament. I still needed to put a bit of distance between myself and the last village, where I had almost received a thorough beating for continuously refusing to give up my horse to a ragged group of men calling themselves The Watch. 

They took my horse. 

After my especially hasty retreat out of England, and riding through nearly half of Scotland, I had heard there was a port in the Highland town of Inverness, where I could finally board a ship again. The minor issue of financing this voyage remained firmly in the back of my mind, for I had nothing. It was strange being this destitute, not knowing where the next meal was coming from or going days on end without human interaction. I supposed I should be accustomed to it by now, it even gave me an odd thrill at times. 

I was reluctant to go, to leave this momentary peace and venture back into the unknown once more. Here, nobody chastised me for wearing trousers or carrying a sword. Sometimes I believed myself a traitor to womankind. Other times I thought perhaps I was its savior. Too often I had been on the receiving end of outright anger. Others merely stared in shock, content to observe from a distance as if watching some sort of exotic show or attraction. Many laughed at me. Of course, my nature is not what one might deem “typical.” My breech of the status quo is offensive to many, but it only served to fuel my passion for fighting, adventure, and knowledge. I thought of Uncle Lamb, who had gifted me all three of these things, so woefully unattainable for countless others. He always knew dolls and lace never satisfied my spirit. He gave me my first bow and taught me how to use it. The only thing I had left of him was his ring, which I kept on a chain around my neck. It gave me comfort, having him close. 

A twig snapped. My reverie dissipated like a fog. I was on my feet in a second, ears strained, listening for more. My breath caught as voices materialized out of the trees. I became completely still, perhaps I’d be swallowed by the shadows, be granted invisibility. I saw a flash of red. 

Oh God. 

I snatched the bow off my back and made to run when I heard, “Oi I found one!”

I had remained frozen and indecisive for a beat too long. 

My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest. I felt my pulse everywhere at once. 

“Where's the rest of your lads huh?” the redcoat continued, having fully entered the clearing. He was a short man, with a thick neck and a pink face. His teeth were badly stained.  

His small beady eyes nearly popped out in surprise as he took in my pants, boots, and weapons. 

“You're a lady!” He sputtered. 

“Very good! Your eyesight appears to be functioning normally.” I shot back with a sneer. 

Another soldier had entered the glade. A bit taller than his companion, he seemed much more able to prevail in a fight or a chase. His face reminded me of a rabbit. “Lady or not, she and her company raided our stores!”

While it was completely within the realm of possibility for me to have done this, I stood there wide eyed shaking my head. Plainly, a bunch of hungry and fed up Highlanders had attempted to nip a bit of food and perhaps a cow or a horse from the English stationed in the small town I had avoided the previous day. 

“So you’re just out here all alone, right after we discover the Scots robbed our depository?” He said it in a tone that conveyed he obviously didn’t believe that this was as coincidental as it appeared. 

“Yes! Precisely!” A jolt of anger and desperation shot through me along with the reality that they were not going to believe me no matter what I said.

The rabbit faced man was advancing menacingly while his partner prepared his rifle. I didn't like the hungry, animalistic way their eyes traveled over me. Suddenly, rough hands grasped the front of my shirt and I felt rotten breath on my face. “Boy she’s a pretty one.” He breathed. 

“How dare you!” I could not bear to imagine how many others he could have done this to, and his feeling of contentment knowing they could do nothing to stop him.

And then, in my typical fashion, I proceeded to ruin any chance I had of a peaceful escape. Grasping his shoulders, I drove my knee up as hard as I could. The building adrenaline caused me to be shaky and clumsy, and I missed my mark. The man looked stunned as we glared at each other for a second. The next thing I registered was a fist colliding with the side of my head. I half dropped to the ground as I felt warm blood oozing down my cheek. Panic rising, I scrambled away on my knees, grabbing the bow off my back. 

“You little bitch!” He shouted. “Who do you think you are?” 

“Not your plaything!” Shaking from anger now rather than fear, I had made my decision. Arrow in place, I slowly pulled the string back. 

At that moment, the sound of running footsteps became apparent behind me. A small squeak of fear threatened to escape my throat. I was surrounded. My mind was frantically working out some fantastical lie to tell if they decided to take me and question me. A petite, innocent lady shouldn't and wouldn’t be pointing her lethal homemade arrows (lovingly sharpened to perfection) in a good Englishman's face. There is most definitely something amiss with that.

“Surely ye don't mean the lass any harm? She isna with us. She travels alone.” 

My shoulders slumped in relief at the unmistakable Scottish voice behind me. My accent had earned me mistrust from many of the Scots I had met since arriving here. But overall I found them to be very kind and hospitable people who placed a high emphasis on family. The man behind me was undoubtedly one of the raiders that I had been mistaken for. I was thankful he had done what my less than rational mind had conveniently chosen to leave out before I raised the bow. At least now the fact that I had never seen these men before was now out in the open. 

Behind, I heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. He knew as well as I  that this had no chance of ending peacefully.

    ��“No harm at all.” The soldier said, a nasty smile creeping up his face. He stepped closer, rifle now raised. I stepped back. 

    “I dare you to try that again.”

“Now what would an English lady be doing out here in the mud with a bunch of filthy Scots, pretending to be a man?”

The man spoke from behind me again, “I tell ye she had no part in this. Let her be.” His voice was deep and soft, but not void of threat. I wanted to turn around to see who the voice belonged to, but I also didn’t want to turn my back on the redcoats.

“I am not pretending to be anything. What you see before you is simply a woman who happens to despise corsets. Dreadful things in my opinion. Trousers enable much more movement and freedom don’t you agree? I wouldn’t be able to do this!” 

I was only vaguely aware of my fingers releasing the string. Moments like these always seem to happen in slow motion. I heard a sharp inhalation from the Scot at my back.

The plump man screamed as the arrow pierced his boot. His gun fell to the ground. The other dropped his rifle in surprise. Fuck. I had only meant to shoot the ground near his feet to scare them a bit. Perhaps my aim was a bit too good. I was in big trouble now, and I could only dig myself a deeper grave from here on out.

I turned and ran . . . 

. . . right into a very large, very red-headed Scot. 

“Ooof!” The sound of the breath exiting my lungs all at once. 

 He was so solid. 

“Come on!” He said urgently. I staggered back, reeling from the impact as he caught me by the wrist and began towing me along with him. I allowed a glance back. It appeared that two more soldiers had reached their comrades, apparently unlucky in their search for the missing goods and the thieves responsible. One had stayed behind with the injured man, who was now writhing on the ground. It didn't take long for the other two to begin their pursuit, running to mount their horses. 

We were both sprinting now. The trees whipped past and my blood pounded in my ears. Suddenly he gave a high pitched whistle, and then I heard great hoofbeats from somewhere off to the right. A giant black stallion came trotting alongside us. We stopped and he quickly swung onto the horse and began to pull me up. 

“I can do it!” I said hotly, yanking my hand from his grasp.

  "Are ye sure about that lass?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. But of course just to spite me, the horse proved too massive for my short stature. I saw that the side of his face had lifted in a smirk as I settled into the saddle behind him. Soon we were galloping through the forest, me haphazardly clutching this stranger's waist with my hair flying wildly in my face as the turbulence increased. His own shoulder length auburn curls flew out behind his head. I still hadn’t gotten a decent look at his face.

The horse jumped a large fallen tree trunk and I suddenly became airborne in the saddle. I blindly groped for a handhold and grabbed his kilt to anchor myself. He looked back in surprise; his ears tinged pink. I felt a flush up my neck as well, in spite of the wind whistling in my ears. I had been in Scotland long enough to know what a Scotsman wore under his kilts. I was about to mumble an apology when he jerked the horse sharply to the left and began to ride back the way we came, like a giant circle.

“And just where are we going?”

“Doubling back. They think we still ride ahead of them. We’re going to find the others and ride back into the Mackenzie lands.” he said in concentration, steering the horse away from more fallen trees.

“We?” I’d known him for a good five minutes. I had no idea who he was with, or what he thought he was going to do with me. He was speaking as though none of this mattered. The soldiers were now riding well ahead of us. They hadn't seen us turn. I thought I heard him sigh in relief. He slowed the horse to a walk and I relaxed my grip on his waist. My hands were clammy.

“I, um, thank you.” I told him, swinging my leg over the horse. Determined not to have any help with the dismount, I slid gracelessly off the horse’s back and almost pitched forward into the mud.

“No problem at all,” he too, had dismounted. I now saw that his eyes were the clearest blue, like the sky on the brightest of days. He had strong cheekbones and a prominent forehead, over which hung a mess of red curls. I then began to register the events of the past ten minutes.

“Allow me to clarify however,” I said indignantly, “that I don’t want you thinking that I was too scared to kill them. This arrow could have easily went straight through his eye had I told it to! And furthermore, I could have escaped without help. I am not some damsel in distress.” I crossed my arms.

I was babbling.

“I dinna doubt it, Sassenach.” He smiled. 

Sassenach. I’d heard that term before. But when he used it, it sounded different. It didn’t sound discriminatory or mistrustful, but endearing. 

Suddenly, I became aware of the absence of the comforting weight around my neck. My hand flew to the spot, finding only bare skin. Uncle Lamb’s ring was gone. It must have fallen off. I cursed quietly. 

“Will ye tell me your name?” 

“I - It's Claire.”

“Claire.” He smiled, as he said it in his odd Highland way. “I'm . . .”

“Jamie!” came a cry from someways off. “We thought we lost ye lad!”

Another kilted man was riding toward us. He was short, with a big brown beard. 

“My godfather, Murtagh.” Jamie murmured to me. 

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at the sight of me. He looked me up and down for several seconds. “Ye've found yerself a lady then?” He said finally. 

“I - she, redcoats . . .no!” Jamie stuttered, face flushing scarlet. 

I must have made a face for Murtagh laughed loudly and said, “she doesna seem too taken with ye does she?” 

I heard more riders approaching and decided the time had come to take my leave. “It was very nice to meet you both,” I attempted to mask the anxious tone in my voice. “But I had really better be going.” I began to back away slowly.

“And who might this English lass be? Following us were ye?” A new, accusatory voice asked. He was tall, as tall as Jamie. He didn’t have much hair on his head but made up for it with a dark brown beard streaked with gray. His emphasis on the word English did not go unnoticed. Annoyed, I exhaled loudly and ran a hand over my face. I should have run the second Jamie stopped the horse. But first I needed them to tell me the way to Inverness, and then I could put this whole little hiccup behind me.

With as much politeness as I could muster at this point, I tried to seem as innocent as possible. “Please sir, I was just trying to find my way to Inverness. Could you help me?” 

“Inverness. Is that where your consort is waiting?” 

So he wasn’t going to make this easy. I glanced helplessly at Jamie and Murtagh, as the last two riders of their company had ridden up behind them, watching with interest. “Uncle, Claire means no harm. She almost killed a redcoat!”

“Aye but what is she doing wandering these woods alone? She may be a pretty lass, but she’s also an English lass Jamie lad.” 

Jamie had gone red in the face once more as my last shred of patience disappeared. “What exactly do you mean to say?” 

“What I mean to say is that I canna be takin’ any chances letting ye go free should ye be an English spy!” His voice had risen considerably. 

“What I’m doing here is none of your business! Although I can assure you I have no interest whatsoever in your activities and I am most certainly not a spy!” 

“Rupert, Angus, have you ever seen a woman quite like this one?” He switched his gaze from me to the others. 

“That I have not.” One of the men answered. He was round but strong, with long light brown hair and a beard to match. “I suppose it’s wee bit suspicious.” 

I scoffed at him, and he shrugged. “Why should you be so nervous that I was a spy anyway?” I said, testing him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie bend to pick something off the ground and a gasp escaped my throat. It was my ring. 

My accuser stepped forward and snatched it from him. 

“Dougal!” Jamie tried to snatch it back. He looked at me apologetically. 

An insincere smile appeared on Dougal’s face. “’Tis evident this trinket is of great importance to our new guest. I think I shall hold on it for a while.”

“No please!” I begged. 

“It would be foolish of ye to attempt an escape lass,” he said. “At least now I am guaranteed ye wilna be leaving us. Show’s over lads, we’d best be on our way back to Leoch. The Sassenach will ride wi’ Jamie.” 

And that was that. 

I stuck my arm up in the air with a scowl. Jamie’s large warm hand wrapped around mine and hoisted me up onto the monstrous horse yet again. 

“I’m sorry about my uncle.” He said as we began to ride behind the others.

I didn’t answer him, but pressed my lips together and folded my arms like a child. We swayed back and forth with the horse’s movements. Ahead, numerous pairs of eyes that thought they were being discreet stole glances back at us. 

“He won’t keep me here you know.” 

“Ooch I think ye’ve made that much clear, Sassenach. Give him time and no cause for suspicion aye?” 

“He seems a very difficult man to budge.”

“That he is. Will ye be getting on to Inverness then? After ye leave.” It sounded as though he expected me to elaborate on this. 

“Yes.” I said shortly, hoping my tone relayed the fact that I was not about to volunteer any information about my plans or reasons. There was no one left on earth who I would trust. He seemed to get the message. 

“That’s a handsome sword,” he commented with admiration. “I’d wager it does well in combat.” 

That was the moment I took a liking to this Scot. His remark was made in reference to the weapon itself, rather than passing judgement on me for wielding it. 

After that, we talked pleasantly. We discussed his sword as well, an extremely heavy thing that was not quite as agile as mine, but ruthless in a fight. 

“Do you use it much?” I asked excitedly, hoping for a story. 

“Oh aye this hunk of metal saved my neck numerous times while I was fighting in France.” 

We passed the next hour or two in companionable conversation. We talked of his time in France, and he spoke of the clan culture which dominated the Highlands. I’d always found upon first meeting somebody new, I draw conclusions and pass judgement subconsciously. I had been prepared to lump Jamie together with Scots like his uncle and the other Mackenzies, as he told me they were called. However, he lacked much of the narrow-mindedness and superstition I had previously encountered, not limited to Scotland. He was educated, like I was.

As the sun dropped and the shadows lengthened, Dougal declared that Leoch must wait until tomorrow. 

I was rolling out my thin blanket away from the others when Dougal, seemingly more calm than before, spoke to me. 

“I know ye said ’tis none of our business, but that answer wilna be accepted by Himself. He’ll want to know what an English lady was doin’, roamin’ around so close to the Mackenzie lands.” 

A small jolt of dread. He was right. If I was going to be questioned by their chief I had better come up with some believable excuse. I would make up a story then, and pray I’d be able to look the laird dead in the eye when I told it. Restless sleep overtook me. 

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fandom #jamie and claire #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #clairebeauchamp #the sassenach warrior