#Its a strand paper so there's an into and conclusion

[the-cooler-king]

Teacher: your final paper should be no less than 10 pages

Me: oh word? Forreal? U gonna let me go like that?

#Its a strand paper so there's an into and conclusion #Then three strands in between that have about five topics each #Each topic can take maybe. 2 paragraphs or 3. That is so many words #Which like I took good notes when I set this up in the first place #Im more worried about next week's strand which is actual math #Im doing chaos theory because I can bullshit it so well LOL #Literally im mentioning in the paper I picked this because of jurassic park

[atvace]

Lady Dior and the Seven Dilfs

Chapter 7: Lil Preppy

Masterlist

You sat in the headquarters cafeteria, spinning your pink can of Monster energy drink. you collected your thoughts about the case, trying to connect the dots. You were slightly puzzled about how a big-ass missile is interlinked with drug trafficking. it's pretty out of your field to mend evidence by evidence into a conclusion, but you're trying.

"You okay, Dior?" You felt a soft touch on your shoulder, frowning at the callsign you tilt to the source of the voice. he raised his eyebrow and bent his face to your side, "The walls have ears, gotta get tactical, yeah?" you smiled and nod. "I'm fine, I was just recollecting my thoughts. I feel like there's something deeper about this case." you shuffled your small notebook and open the content to soap. "I genuinely think that they have a backup. it's crazy powerful if this organization runs independently."

He rested his fingertips on the rail of the chair, "This taken?". you shook your head as he sat to examine your papers. turning a few pages with scribbles and doodles around, highlighted texts, and many more notes. "You're investigating this outside duty?" You nodded, "could've used my spare time for clues." You shrugged, shifting the notebook to your fore.

"Any closure?" You raised your eyebrow at the question. "Suspect is Iranian holding possibly more than one missile. my deduction was two but I could be wrong," you submerged a few pictures of a missile anatomy. "I'm certain hostage is unnecessary for them, because," you flipped a page to multiple cut newspapers. "I haven't found the very root of this but the US missile that shat on them, they got grumpy when their leader died so their second-in-command took over," Soap listened to your lecture.

But his mind was a little out of space. whilst you're talking, he gets to closely notice many of your small features. now, the military has been up his ass, the only time he has seen some woman in his life was whenever the team went to the bar to get some mission accomplishment tributes but that doesn't count because it was based on lust. he never gets to actually notice a woman who is charming in her own way, like you.

you're a smart woman, nobody ever dared to speak down about yourself because you know how high your self-worth was. you're a content woman with dreams and steel ambition. despite your demotion, you still mastered whatever skills that held tightly to you like a rope, you took your punishment in demotion professionally.

his surroundings turned mute, everything but you were blurry, the way your tired eyes mend from the paper and back to him in a hypnotic motion, your strands of hair brushing your cheekbones felt like slow-motion, the way the light mirrored your iris shines and bounced to his sight, the way you pursed your lips as you talk makes him flustered at the thought of an intimate scenario.

His lips parted, his eyes softened at the sight of your soul. he felt light, he felt like falling to your voice. its like luring him into something intoxicating. The longer you talk, the more you bewitched him into questionable feelings.

"...and that is why I think they had another organization giving resources." you placed both of your hands to your waist and huffed. the silence made you check on Soap's attention span as a 5-year-old iPad kid. you glared down at him as your cough pulled his senses back to earth.

he blinked a few times trying to form a word from his hazed mind "....what?"

you groaned in annoyance and frustratedly run your hand through your hair and clicked your tongue. "I can't."

"Dior, I understand-" "Okay, repeat what I said." you stood and glared down at him.

He paused for a few moments with his lips parted trying to form a word or two. "Exactly." you slammed your book shut. "I, uh they have multiple missiles rockets, drug sailing, and a strong ally." Soap tried to win you back to your seat. "And you will be lurking, and..." you raised one eyebrow as he grin defeatedly. Still annoyed, you sighed "That's fine. I don't expect you to listen anyways. cause you're just a man, that's what you do." you shrugged and scooted over to the kitchen counter.

He frowned at the statement and melted to the table, watching you closely. "Can't help it, I'm sorry." he hides his face to the table and crossed his arm to his forehead. "Why can't you?" You smirked, pouring water into a glass for yourself. "Nevermind, I'm s-"

"Forgiven." you sip the water from your cup and leaned to the table beside him. "So tell me, before all this happened, what are the mission you went through." you rested your head on the table, he fixate himself and tilt at you. "I uh I was assigned to Ghost for a mission in Al Mazrah to find Hassan. and then we thought that's all he did until turns out they kidnapped a kid." he paused to look at you for a moment but break it off as soon you raised an eyebrow.

"And, uhm.. well.." he rubbed his palm. "Well?" you leaned closer, facing him. For the hundredth time, his lips parted and watched galaxies in your eyes. "We heard there was a sudden new recruit-" "ASSIGNED FBI." you grumpily cut him off which made him chuckle, "..There was a sudden assigned FBI joining our task force so we were off duty for a few days until Hassan made another move." He explained as you nodded slowly. after a few moments of tinkering, you decided to lie on the table in front of soap, taking out your notebook and pen.

"This Hassan guy was a second in command of General Ghobrani? Killed in action by...you?" scribbled down to the book, raising your pen, you pointed at Soap.

"K.I.A yes but I didn't kill him, I was in another batch that time." he got up and sat at the table beside you, "But in what I heard, heard Commander Graves and Ghost were under that mission. Ghost confirmed Ghobrani's existence in the field chatting with the Russians and then Graves launched a missile towards the old guy." You look at him with a surprised expression "Damn, that was him then? holy shit I thought Graves isn't the type of person who would use huge force for something...as a small cranky old man like Ghobrani." Invested with the talk, Soap lay down next to you at the table.

"Actually I saw Ghobrani once in Laswell's computer when I was filing something." Soap tilts his head to you, "Really?" You nodded rapidly and put down your notebook to your stomach. "He's ugly, but fat fuck shepherd is uglier." you crossed your arms to your chest and huffed. "Is there any reason why you hate General Shepherd so much?" Soap squinted his eyes and focuses his gaze on you. "I just hate ugly guys." you shrugged, "Dior, you're not the type of person who has little respect for upper-ups, and in what I recalled Laswell is in the same league as Shepherd. thought you had a mother-daughter thing with her?" Soap knitted his eyebrows.

you paused for a few moments to collect some thoughts, why did you hate Shepherd so much in the first place? what made your blood boils hot so much? He ain't done nothing to you but you just despise him the most. One time you put peanut butter on his sandwich once to trigger his allergic and accidentally sent him to the ER. but that was when you were 16.

"I just don't trust him, that's one" You gained Soap's full attention. "So you don't trust Graves either?" his reply makes you gasp softly. he raised his eyebrow at your response "General Shepherd's minion is Graves, Graves owns-" "Shadow company?" you bit your tongue. "...Yeah, I thought you knew." Soap rubbed the back of his head.

You and Soap stared at the ceiling for a few moments, gathering thoughts in the air. "He's so weird, Soap. like the most white American men ever." You snickered. "Actually I agree. I didn't like the way he stared at you back this evening. you see," The two of you turned to each other, facing one another. "In his Twitter, he would retweet every American content he sees and every time he post a picture of himself, he would tag all the shadows, regardless if they're in the picture or not." Your reaction made Soap satisfied. "what a fuckin dick" you snorted a laugh.

"And then one time when everyone went out to see Barbie, he won't stop complaining how Barbie always made Ken feel left out." You scoffed. "I knew that Graves guy isn't trustworthy. men who despise the Barbie movie are red flags!" You fisted yourself in pissed, "But there was a truce thing and we just happen to work along. but not gonna lie, I must agree with your trust issue. you can't trust anyone on the battlefield." Soap got up and sat, looking at your notebook.

"I mean, I guess I trust you" you chuckled whilst watching him. his expression changed to serious as he looks down on you. "...Soap?" your smile drops as he lunged at your wrist, pinning it above your head and tickled your stomach with his left hand. you wheezed and arched your back, feeling euphoria up your nervous system, once again you felt happy. your laughter echoes against the spacious kitchen making Soap shifted his small tickles to the side of your waist.

you died from laughter as tears formed in the corner of your eye, "Can't escape the Scottish tickle torture!" He jokingly said as he continued to tickle you. but stopped immediately when you let out a pig-like snort when he tickled you. "SOAP! I hate you." you laughed again as you got up holding your stomach, "Well good to know the super agent FBI is ticklish, yeah?" the two of you laughed at each other and you kicked him unintentionally not aware of the power of your legs, you sent him flying off the table rolling through the kitchen floor.

"Ohh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." you said getting off the table to help him on the floor.

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

The clock strikes at 2 Am. The whole hallway echoes with loud thudding footsteps and many other soldiers running back and forth to get ready to war. apparently, you learned that Grave's men are called 'Shadows'. and everyone has their own numbers.

You were getting ready in the armory room, checking your compound bow once in a while, looking at your arrow making sure it's sharp enough. you saw Graves talking to a group of his shadow.

He was giving a gentle pat on the shoulder to all his men. which you find... cute. "Dior, explosives." Gaz's voice broke off your gaze. "Oh, thanks!" you received his grenades and plugged them into your vest. "Nervous?" He bent to your level as you laughed. "Hell nah, nervous is for the weak." you swayed your hair. "Good, catch you on later, yeah? we'll be in a different car." He patted your back before parting ways.

Grave ran his hand through his blonde hair before plugging an earpiece in, "All shadows, I want us to make room for Dior to lurk in the dark. watch for her accordance, I want everyone to stand by 24/7." Graves threw a tactical radio toward you.

catching it with your hand, everyone's gaze shifts to your black Baiwa Croc Over-the-knee boots, full tactical gear vest, and a metal arrow bag. you put on the radio earpiece and slid it to one of the pockets, "I will come back in one piece, that's one." you braided your hair and turn it into a bun before wearing the helmet and a tactical half-face gas mask.

"(y/n), Your sh-" "Graves." Price held his shoulder and shook his head lightly. the captains watched you readjusting your handguns and the customized compound bow. "I know, she'll be fine. you have my words." Graves bit his cheek and sighs, "Okay, I hope she won't complain about her legs getting all steamy from that...heels." Grave's doubt made Price frown. "the only thing she'll complain about is her nails not getting done before a mission." Price shrugs away to get into his assigned car with the rest of the 141.

You stretched yourself to make sure everything was in the correct position. but by that time, you realized there was a loose belt behind your back. your arms were too short to grasp it. "Here," Ghost's figure got to your back, and he helped you strap the belt.

"Thank you, Lt." you feel yourself tight in the vest. "What're your side arms, Sergeant?" you raised both of your eyebrows and showed him your fully loaded Revolver and tase gun. "Do you know how to switch on the radio channel?" He pointed at your earpiece, "Well, it's Grave's. he said he'll teach me on the way but it shouldn't be so hard." you held the belt of your vest.

"I think it's best if you have this," he took out something from his pocket, it was two identical throwing knives. your eyes perked in happiness and grasped it from his hands. "Dope! thank you, Lt." you grin and shove the knives into one of your pockets.

"Don't let ego take over you. it's okay to use handguns when your bow is at stake." He pats your shoulder and nodded, "I'm on station 1 switch, could give private updates while were parted on the field, yeah?" you chuckled. he looks at you boringly. you couldn't really tell his expressions from his mask.

"Dior, RedCon to move!" Graves shouted from the distance, "Copy, commander!" you waved at Graves. "byee Lt-" You quickly turned towards the Range Rover waiting for you. but Ghost stops you by holding back your arms gently. "Hey, be safe," he said coldly. you tilt your head back and smiled at him. "I will." felt warmth in his heart, and he then lets you go and watches your figure going inside the car.

"Be safe..." Gaz held Soap's waist and laid him like a bride, "I'll be so safe..." Soap teased and place his hand to his forehead like a Damsell in distress. Ghost glared at the two in pissed. "Can you guys stop?" the Lt grew irritated watching his two sergeant making kissing and baby noises. "Stop." Ghost tilts himself disturbingly, "I'm gonna kill you."

"But how will that keep us safe?" Soap held his hand to Gaz's chest. "I'm so safe" Gaz still teased with his hand resting to Soap's waist. from the distance, Captain Price rubbed his temper in stress.

"what the hell are those muppets doing..."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Red rotator for private station 0-1, me, and Captain Price. Blue rotator for all shadows, just click it to your desired person to contact, and flip this switch if you want to get on the 141s." Graves instructed, showing how the radio he gave you works, flipping the device back and forth.

"If you're in a tight position, there's another switch behind in red. it will send a 15-minute live location to my phablet. make sure you're in a very emergency state because you can only deploy it once before it selfs destruct from the inside." he gave back the radio.

You nodded in understanding, "Might've contacted you the most but we'll see what goes down in the field." You leaned yourself to the window of the car. "Could also contact me outside duty." he does the same but to the other side of the window. you look at him dirty.

Grave looked at the rear mirror, exchanging looks with the shadow in the shotgun seat and the one driving. he cleared his throat and fix himself, "So, you're American. which sta-" "Classified." He knitted his eyebrow at your short remark.

"I grew up in Southern America."

"I see."

"My mother loves Christian Dior, usually most of my savings goes to her shopping cart."

"Interesting."

"I am a cat person," He's certainly not.

"Same."

He gritted his teeth trying hard to get you to talk to him. but you won't bat an eye like the streets are more interesting than him.

"Did you know I navigate nuclear missiles for a living?"

"Shows."

You swore you could hear his two men holding back a laugh in the fronts. He dug his nails into his knee, thinking hard about how to impress you.

"What's your motivation for joining the military?"

"Kill."

"Fiesty, I aspire to be like Leon Kennedy-"

Now you finally tilt your head to him. "-I thought he's cool back in middle school." You pursed your lips at his opinion, "He is." He looks at you with a sigh of relief that you finally gave him attention. "I want to look like him" he smiled at you

You scoffed and crossed your legs, "You look nothing like him." his smile drops.

Out of a sudden, your radio vibrated in your vest. "Dior, this is Ghost. Do you copy?" You raised your eyebrow and rotated the radio to reply, "Ghost, this is Dior with Commander 0-1, over." you released the button which made Graves smile, "You're a fast learner." he commented.

Your radio buzzed again, "Dior, Soap hasn't got a hold of the security cameras outside the gates. You need to lay low and coherent towards the southern gate. when you reach the main entrance from the inside, contact me. we'll send in men as you open the door. 10-4" You nodded as the buzzing stopped.

"What'd he say" He scooted over to you but you move away from him. "He told me to drop off from the southern gate because Soap hasn't taken over the cams." You tighten the straps in your chest and cracked your knuckles. "Shadow 2-3, you heard that?" Graves looked at the driver. "Copy that, Sir. No breaks." He gassed faster.

After a few minutes of the wheels crashing through mud and rocky roads, the car stopped at the designated area. you pulled down the built-in glasses from your helmet and open the door. "Dior," You turned to Graves whose in the car. He lent you a Mini-Uzi gun. you raised your eyebrow and slowly receive the gun he gave you. "Just in case, soldier." you paused for a moment and smiled. "Tango Mike, Commander." you proceed to run towards the gate. it was just a mile, they drop you off from far to avoid detection.

the sound of the car disappearing in the distance is followed by the muffled footstep from your running legs, you could feel your memory flooding back. the sight of you receiving multiple FBI certificates of honor, Chief Artofay assigning you to be his right hand, and your old agent friends cheering in the club waves over you. You are now unfortunately a sergeant. but it won't be long, because you own half of your country once. you will be back in the FBI seat as soon as possible. you will get the rank you deserve back. this is all will be just your playground.

You look up at the huge gate, it looks easy to climb over, at least for you. entering will be easy but surviving inside is the challenge. you took a deep breath and clocked the gun Graves gave you. pausing for a moment before tuning to your earpiece.

"Attention all stations, this is Dior from the southern gate going dark, over."

#phillip graves x reader #soap mactavish x reader #mw2 #task force 141 #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #x reader

[zealouscanonindeer]

Chance Encounter

As I entered the small Strand restaurant where I had asked Watson to meet me, I saw at once that it was unusually crowded for that time of day. As I searched in vain for a table with two empty chairs together, I noticed a young woman sitting by herself at a table for two, reading a recent issue of the Strand. Her molasses-brown hair was up in a loose coif, though a few locks had come free. Her apparel was fashionable, but not extravagant, and her boots were of a style not frequently seen in London.

I stayed where I was, intending to wait until she had left before claiming the table, but presently she glanced up and caught my eye. She indicated that I should approach, though I did not recognise her and she gave no indication of recognising me. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the table.

"I will be leaving shortly," she remarked once I had arrived, "So you needn't worry that you or your friend will be left standing."

"What led you to believe that I was expecting someone?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by her comment.

"If you expected to remain alone," she replied, "you would have simply taken one of the solitary seats in the restaurant. As it was, you hesitated in the doorway and scanned the entire dining area, apparently looking for a table with two or more chairs together. It isn't usually this crowded at this time of day."

"I hadn't noticed you here before," I said as I sat across from her.

"I haven't been here before. You glanced at your pocket-watch as you came in, and you looked annoyed at the crowd. Hence, you were expecting it to be empty enough now for both of you to sit."

Not to be outdone, I observed, "You're very keen, for a left-handed, unmarried, secretary,recently returned from a travel to America who hadn't the foresight to take a cab here on such a windy day."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "How do you know all that?"

"The indentation of a pen is plain upon the second joint of the middle finger of your left hand, though even had I not observed that, one can see that you turn the pages of your magazine with your left hand rather than your right. You also do not wear a wedding band, nor is there the shadow of where one might otherwise be. The skin on both hands is overdry, as might be expected when one handles a lot of paper in their profession.

"Even before you spoke I noticed your boots, which are of a style manufactured chiefly in America, which told me that you had certainly been there when you purchased the boots. I could see you had walked here, as there is road-grime splashed on your boots, and the stiff wind has blown some of your hair free of its pins."

"Hum!" she said when I had finished, and she sat back. A slight smile played at her lips. "Well, even a left-handed, unmarried, secretary - whether or not she has the foresight not to walk in the wind - can easily spot someone who smokes tobacco, favoring the pipe when he is feeling meditative; who is a deep thinker on many puzzling issues and has a very keen eye for the minutest details; who is a lover of classical music and in fact plays the violin himself; who is a bachelor but takes a roommate; who takes a great interest in chemistry; who is a master in the art of theatrical makeup and disguise; who is a pugilist and fencer; who takes little interest in anything which he finds boring or irrelevant or which does not otherwise engage his intellect; and who is quite disinterested in romance or in fact in women as a gender outside of the necessities of his line of work."

She picked up the magazine and continued reading as I sat, slightly stunned. Finally my curiosity overcame my pride, and I said, "That is quite a detailed catalogue. Perhaps you might explain how you came to these conclusions."

"Well, there are two possible answers to that question," she said, "A long answer and a short answer."

"The long answer first, then."

"Certainly," she replied, "The smell of pipe tobacco is dreadfully difficult to get out of one's clothing, particularly if one smokes heavily at a stretch, so it has quite permeated your clothing, defying all efforts to remove it.

"Your powers of observation were quite clear from your own remarks about myself, but as they were quickly deduced it was clear that this process takes very little time at all. Nonetheless, there is a pronounced furrow between your eyebrows which naturally forms when one knits the brow in deep concentration.

"Your choice of musical instrument is evident by the broad callouses on the pads of the fingers on your left hand where they would touch the strings, and the narrower callouses on the fingers of your right hand where they would grasp the bow, and the slight indentation on the underside of your chin where it would rest on the body of the instrument. One who plays the violin could hardly be uninterested in classical music.

"The lack of a wedding band indicates that you are not married, but your clothing is well-worn, indicating that your income has not been substantial enough for you to afford new clothing for some time. The only way a gentleman in such a financial situation might afford reasonable living quarters is by going halves with a roommate.

"Your interest in chemistry is as plain as the chemical-stains and acid- burns on your hands, though I daresay a home laboratory would cause your roommate no little annoyance.

"Your lean frame is not indicative of a sedentary lifestyle. Furthermore, your upper body appears to be well-muscled, as would be necessary in boxing, and your right arm is slightly more developed than the left, which would occur in someone who practiced in fencing or played singlestick.

"Your interest in theater is evident by the slight smell of cold cream, used by professional thespians to clean off their greasepaint. All the same, there is a thin line of greasepaint at your hairline - hardly noticeable, mind you - which might result if you had washed it off your face in poor light.

"Your selective interest in most topics underlies most of these, particularly the fact that you have a keen interest in such diverse topics as chemistry and theater. It would be difficult and frustrating to cultivate such a level of expertise in all topics, so you pick and choose those which are most interesting and useful to you. The fact that this list does not include women was indicated by your bachelorhood, the lack of any indications - such as the use of cologne - that you are courting anyone, and your apparent reluctance to approach this table in the beginning and ask me if the seat you are now occupying is taken."

She thus concluded her explanation, and returned to her magazine. I sat silent for several minutes, digesting her essay on my personal habits, until I could no longer contain my curiosity.

"The long answer covers every detail," I said, "So what could be the short answer?"

She glanced up at me over the edge of her magazine, and silently folded back one half of it to reveal the full-colour title page of "The Adventure of the Speckled Band," which depicted me thrashing away at a rearing adder with my stick

"Occam's Razor," she said quietly, "How quickly you forget your own fame, Mr. Holmes!" With that she got up and left.

I was still laughing when Watson joined me and asked me if I was quite all right.

Head on to my sequel

the adventure of the trading trinkets

To find out more about her.

#sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes #sherlock hound #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x oc #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fandom #sherlock holmes fluff #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock x reader #henry sherlock #acd sherlock holmes #acd sherlock #victorian sherlock #ronald howard #ronald howard holmes #sherlock holmes 1954 #1954 Sherlock Holmes

[blackbackedjackal]

That post about brushes is so real. Ive downloaded so many brushes to try and use but inevitably go back to two of the default ones that came with the program. Its a shame cuz some of those brushes look cool in theory but i never like how they look with my style

And yea, maybe some of them would save time, but I'd rather do things the long way and get a result im happy with ykwim

I feel that so hard. Like I'd love if there was a brush for every scenario to save me time but sometimes you just don't vibe with them or you can't mess with the settings in a way that works well for you. It's like having a pencil or pen you like to draw with then jumping to a colored pencil or crayon and not liking the way it feels. Everyone renders differently and not every tool will be useful or work for everyone but when you have that one tool that words it's super nice. Hell, I'm guilty of buying 2-4 of the same kinds of sketchbooks just because I like the paper and it feels weird to switch after being accustom to the same texture for a while.

I use the same brush for most of my digital work and only use different ones for certain situations. Both of these were rendered with the same two tools (lasso tool and real watercolor brush). If you know how to mess with file sizes and brush settings you can get a lot out of just using tools you're comfortable with.

I deffo would have saved time using a fur brush or something, but sometimes hand drawing with a tool I'm comfortable with just gives me more control of what I want my work to look like in the end.

Shortcuts like specific brushes are always good and welcome, especially if you like it and it works for your style. But for me, if I gotta draw every damn strand of June's hair to be satisfied with the results then I'll do it because that's part of what makes my style, my style. I'd rather experiment in my comfort zone so I can learn how I personally render something. For me, leaning HOW I render helps for when I study how other people render things, or try out different tools. I have a better understanding of what I'm working towards stylistically, so when I try something and it doesn't work, I know it's just because it doesn't work for me and know I need to keep searching for something that does.

You're allowed to learn and try new things and make mistakes (assuming those mistakes are in good faith) because that's how you grow as an artist. So long as it's an honest and earnest attempt and you're willing to learn and evolve as you go, I don't think it's fair to just dog on someone for doing their best in that moment just because it's not perfect. There is always room for improvement, but sometimes that improvement won't happen until several attempts later. Like idk some people just don't know how to be chill and jump to really insane conclusions. It's so much easier to be like "hey, I noticed that you were trying to render this, here's some resources I used to learn how to do this, hope they help next time you try this out," instead of WHY DIDN'T YOU USE THESE TOOLS OR MAKE THIS LOOK PERFECT??? WHY DID YOU POST THIS IF YOU KNEW IT DIDN'T LOOK PERFECT??? etc.

#ask #that's the one thing I miss about art school #group critiques where you could just help eachother out #open up a space for communication and improvement

[pluttskutt]

Masterpost

Hello, and welcome to my blog! I'm Aurora Melody Swan. You may call me what feels comfortable to you; many fall on Plu or Ninni.

I've been writing since I could put pen to paper. Stories pull me in, and I play with them like a child would a rubix cube. They are all I breathe—all I see—and writing is how I get them out.

Fantasy owns my heart but I do love to play with genres and see where I end up.

Find me: Ao3 // Ko-fi

Wip intros:

Fantasy series:

Förtrollade Omständigheter (Witches be Witching)

Birke is a land doomed to long and harsh winters; this is the season that is upon them when our characters find an egg that does not belong. It’s up to them to journey through the land of giants, voyage across the treacherous sea where sirens wish to drag them down to the fathoms below, and venture into the uncharted lands, all so they can return the egg to the Dread Isles.

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Mystery // Tropes: The Quest, Fellowship, Animal Companions

Toy Soldier »Intro«

A woman with one goal, fuelled by rage. An army that uses that rage to its advantage. What will they do when the object of her rage is taken care of, her goal completed, and she no longer has interest to participate in their war?

Genre: Fantasy, Science Fiction // Tropes: Strangers to Friends to Enemies, Secret base, Betrayal

Rotten to the Core »Intro«

Two renegades on their own, escaping the law, up to who knows what when they’re recruited by Rebels. When rumours of a spy are whispered on the Rebel’s vessel and singles out one of the runners as the traitor, the other makes a drastic choice that there’s no coming back from.

Genre: Science Fiction, Adventure // Tropes: Found Family, Betrayal

What Binds Us »Intro«

Childhood friends bound by growing up in the same orphanage. They’ve stuck together forever. An unbreakable trio. Until a vessel crashes, killing hundreds, and the culprit tears the trio apart when one of them splits from not only his friends but everything they represent.

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure // Tropes: Friends to Enemies, Strangers to Friends, Found Family

Standalone:

Daughters of the Sea

For as long as mermaids have existed, humans have been hunting them for the magical and healing properties of their scales. There aren’t many of them left now. One crew takes it upon themselves to find the mythical city far down in the fathoms below that will be their sanctuary—if it exists.

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Action // Tropes: Treasure Maps, Pirates, Sea Monsters

Piano Man »Intro«

A story about soulmates that the universe doesn’t want together. Features a violinist—aristocrat by birth—who must marry a noblewoman to please his family, and a less fortunate man with a million dreams and double the obstacles in his way to make them come true.

Genre: Romance, Fantasy // Tropes: Strangers to Friends to More, Forbidden Love, Fighting Destiny

Dragon WIP

Set in a distant future where humans have perished, cities are overgrown with lush nature, ships are stranded where the water has shifted, and the dragons are coming back. But not all of them are back, and the dragons must now explore this world to find out why that is.

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure // Tropes: TBA

The Girl and Her Dragon

A young maiden is locked in a tower risen by a wicked witch to stand so tall above the ground that no one will ever reach her. A dragon guards the frozen land surrounding her and chases off any Knight who dares to look upon the tower. Is there no knight bold enough to rescue her?

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Adventure // Tropes: Girl in the Tower, Wicked Witch

The Diary of Alice Burkhardt

Alice tries, she does, but it’s never good enough and so she draws the conclusion that she isn’t good enough and it’d be better if she just wasn’t.

Genre: TBA // Tropes: TBA

#writeblr introduction #masterpost #fantasy writer #queer writer #writeblr #plus intro

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Anasdaughter

There were no women in Govabard, by order of the king. Such had been the law for many years: at any age, by any name, in any form, they were forbidden. It had not been a popular policy, and King Yorn's reign was wilting underneath its unconscionable weight - the women of the realm had not taken their removal gladly, and nor had the remaining men - but he was still the king, at least for now, and his word had become their command.

The first decree had been passed some time ago, following his pilgrimage to the mountain temple of Arrabond. King Yorn had always been a paranoid man, and he had travelled for days with his retinue to consult with the famed oracle, concerned with the manner of his death. There had been unrest in corners of his realm, and he wished to know the identity of any would-be assassin.

"Who will bring about my death?" he had asked with trembling hands, for once made humble in his desperation for the truth. The oracle had offered him a single woman's name in response.

"Maya Anasdaughter."

It was a name he'd never heard before. King Yorn couldn't say why, but that surprised him: for one reason or another, he had expected to recognise the face of death when it was finally unveiled. One of the lords and ladies who had grown disaffected under his rule; one of the cousins he had bested to the throne; even one of the guards who shadowed him night and day, susceptible to threats or bribes or other kinds of leverage.

But this was... something else. An unknown. A peasant girl, most likely: someone he wouldn't recognise, even if his party passed her on the streets back to the palace. In a way, that was worse. Not a betrayal, but an anonymous assassin. The knife in the darkness. A threat he couldn't see coming, unless he kept on looking everywhere at once. The sort of threat to drive a paranoid man over the brink of madness.

Upon his return, King Yorn ordered a full inspection of the women of the realm. It began with his guards, and the palace staff, and emanated outwards with their help: papers were shown, identities vouched for, family trees drawn out on dirty tablecloths. One by one, households were marked as safe. One by one, until they all were. The search turned up empty. There was no Maya Anasdaughter in his kingdom.

There was some Anas, and so he saw to it that there weren't: no blood was spilt, but they were banished, together with their whole families. Daughters who might later change their name. Sons who might later change their sex. Yorn was well aware that he was giving them a motive to return for his head - his actions to prevent that outcome turning back into its cause, as is so often the way with prophecies - but it was the cost of denying them the opportunity.

Besides, there was no question of them coming back. King Yorn ordered the borders closed for all women, girls, and unborn babies coming in. It was a necessary precaution, as far as he could see. That soothed his fears, for a while - but then he began to worry again. A prophecy was not so easily escaped, after all.

The next time, he came for the Mayas: those without mothers, those who might discover a new biological parentage, those that might find themselves adopted as an Anasstepdaughter. Again, that brought a few years of peace, and the realm settled back into its normal level of unrest. A small number of families were parted, hearts broken, friendships severed, but a people could heal from this number of wounds.

Not so the next attack. Eventually, King Yorn's madness reached its inevitable conclusion: he announced the exile of all his female subjects, all of Govabard's women and girls, fearing they could easily have given an assumed name, or take a new one before planning his demise. In doing so, he secured it. Such is the nature of prophecy, like the strands of a spider's web: the more one struggles, the tighter it binds.

The unrest had been building further and further with every act, and this latest intervention was the final straw: half of Govabard's menfolk left, and all of those who stayed had lost something, someone, irreplaceable. More practically, all of the realm's industries were on the verge of collapse, and King Yorn faced a populace in open revolt: holed up in his castle, now more prison than protection, and left with only one way out.

Even then, the dam wouldn't hold. There were no women in Govabard, by order of the king - but still they came. They slipped through the net, smuggled over the border, a contraband that no guard was independent from. All wanted to see their own mothers, their own lovers, their own friends. King Yorn found himself defied by every child born a daughter. He could not prevent the tide.

All that was left was to secure the other end of the chain. To at least take his death into his own hands. Driven to madness by his paranoia, King Yorn ended his life with one final victory amongst the ashes of this overwhelming defeat: as the hunting knife ran through his skin, he found some small satisfaction in having taken mastery of his fate, and thus proving the oracle wrong.

It was only then, in the last few seconds before death, that he realised he had never asked her for her name.

#writing #short story #creative writing #original fiction #original writing

[stolememory]

❛   you stain the pages with yourself.  ❜  

❛[ QUOTES THAT BROKE ME SENTENCE STARTERS ≻ accepting

`BOOKS WERE NOT SIMPLY THE PHYSICAL-- - THAT OF LEATHER AND PAPER, INK AND SCRY. Flesh pulsated with vermillion solvent, writ with stories crammed between folds of the LOGICAL MUSCLE. Dirt solidified around footsteps cast, marking presence and entombing the deceased ever more. The universe, every speck upon it a word // EVERY CONGLOMERATION OF GREATER FORCES MERE PARAGRAPHS WITHIN THE TOME (AND THEN THERE WAS THE SCRYER, THE GREATEST SPILL UPON THE STORY OF REALITY). To claim observation and collection, PURE AND TRUE // BUT REALITY LAUGHS AT SUCH A CLAIM. A book keeper does not erase the sentences deemed uninteresting and unfit-- - does not unwind stories deemed of NO IMPORTANCE (YOUR LIBRARY IS BUT A COLLECTION OF PERFECTION, AND WHAT DEEMED FIT THE CLAIM, KNOWLEDGE TYRANT).

`THE STAIN HAS BECOME RESTLESS AND HUNGRY, DEVOURING UNMARRED PAGES AND REDACTING WORDS EVER MORE. Ink melds with abyss, the obstruction knows what it has inside it (BUT A PAGE OR TWO IS NOT ENOUGH // THIS STORY HAS GOTTEN TIRESOME AND BORING). Its only inevitability that the distortions would be noted-- - which pages to claim his presence MARRED upon though, Fate? (WAS IT THE SANCTITY OF MEMORY // OF THAT WHICH SHOULD HAVE PASSED AND NEVER DID // OR THE GRAND TAPESTRY). Hermaeus Mora grand optic seems to tilt within the folds of lids, questioning // AH, BUT HE IS THE ONE THAT KNOWS, DOES NOT REQUEST (BUT ARE YOU ESCAPING YOURSELF?). “&– - Are you claiming me unbefitting my Sphere, simply because my shadow will always have a presence upon that which I loom over? Hands tend to leave a signature, whether its the author or the adapter-- - you seem to covet mortal aspects such is that. I'd think you'd find some appreciation in this.”

`IT JEERS, IT MOCKS AND WEARS THE SENSE OF A PRESENTED MAW OF TEETH LIKE A SMILE WITHIN VOICE. The Old Antecedent becomes restless, the WATERS BECOME UNSTABLE. (EYES BORE INTO THE GREAT LENSE // THEY KNOW THE WEAPON SHE HAS AND YET THE CONDITIONS OF SHEATH IT IS KEPT IN). Eons the tides have been uneasy-- - awaiting with mouth full of claims of lies and falsity // 'how would erasure of all benefit the Prince of Knowledge'? // BUT ALAS FATE DECIDED NOT TO ACT (THE BEAST WEARINESS HAS RECEEDED // IN ITS PLACE BURNS DISINTEREST). “&– - Or perhaps you've seen a certain possibility. For eons. A fate string, a possibility tied to so many individuals- with a singular ink blotch connecting them all. And yet you've spoken not a word in the way of abating it.” Amusement chokes the strands of words // ENERGY UNCOMMON FROM THE LANGUID STATE THE PRINCE HAD BECOME SUBMERGED IN. “&– - Are you holding on to the moral of one should not be punished for actions uncommitted? That a different fate might become determined by me? Perhaps it would-- - you've stated, I've seen; I am not bound to the tapestry. But it festers within me-- - time has no sway, and yet I feel it collapsing jaws of disinterest and boredom. Perhaps it grows in you too, if only in slight; you have some degree of the sight I do. Or perhaps you see a conclusion that... evades me, rectifying for possibilities. Theorizing, speculation and guessing-- - such alien things to me, so mildly refreshing as they are irritating. But like all, this answer will come to me in time, won't it sister? For that's my job-- - but change does come, what it might be, even I do not know. For reality, for you, for myself...... interesting, isn't it?” // @stolefate

#stolefate #🕮┆“ANSWERS”╞ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᶦᵗ ʷᶦˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ #🕮┆“IN CHARACTER”╞ ᵖʳᶦⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵗᵉ ᵃˢ ᶦᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ #( oop this got long as fuck but i thought what if like.... eons after everything #even eons after the current game timelines we have. moras become restless. moras become unstable #moras even accepted the truth he isnt written in the tapestry of fate so thats even further unwound him and im just #god they are holding on by a string rn they really wanna fuck shit up and is like :) so like you wanna see it happen right? @ ithelia )

[romaine2424]

Eight Days A Week (Chapter 16) is up! One more to go!

Notes: This is the final chapter for the two years of Libby transitioning into the witch she was always meant to be. The last chapter will take place 21 years later. I hope you've enjoyed the story. If you haven't started, now's a good time as Sunday is the finale. The fic is coming in now at 120K.

Chapter Summary:

Harry and Libby have one last visit with the international exchange Aurors. Summer holidays at Shell Cottage are enjoyed along with car rides to Scottish Lochs. Libby and Harry visit Paris twice for two different major occasions.

Excerpt:

Harry and Libby sat on an old, tattered blanket laying over the sand, watching the ocean waves crash onto the shore. Libby’s feet were on Harry’s lap as he massaged them. “They’re not so pretty anymore,” Libby said, whilst wiggling her painted toes.

“Still are to me,” Harry replied. They’d taken a long morning walk on the beach until Libby’s feet and ankles began to swell. They were at Shell Cottage. Ron and Hermione lent it to them for a week for Libby’s twenty-first birthday, whilst they were still on their two-month honeymoon touring the continent. It would be coming to an end soon. The papers from the Malfoy solicitors sat upon the kitchen table inside. Libby’s inheritance was now safely in its own vault at Gringotts. Under other conditions, Harry was sure they’d be celebrating in Paris or Rome or maybe even New York City, but Libby was not only completely restricted from Apparating but now also from using a Portkey. Flooing was allowed but only to and from St Mungo’s for her classes. Most of the time she stayed home and studied. They’d tried the Knight Bus, but it made her ill. Harry bought a car. Private driving lessons ensued.

“This place is perfect, Harry.”

“You’re perfect,” Harry replied.

Libby swatted him across the head. “Potter, I have swollen feet, I’m getting fat and no, it’s not all baby. Bloody hell I can’t even fit into my leggings anymore. I’ve come to the conclusion that Hermione is right, and having big tits is not all that it’s made out to be. My back is constantly hurting.”

“Still perfect.”

Libby rolled her eyes. She pulled her feet from Harry’s lap and laid down on the blanket. She pulled on Harry’s jumper to make him join her. Whilst she complained about how big she was getting; she’d started noticeably showing later than most given her height. Harry rubbed her stomach for a moment and then moved his hand up to her face. “So perfect.”

“I thought we could start looking for land to build on,” Libby said. “I’d imagined that we’d go north, to Scotland. I want snow in the winter. Somewhere on the shores of a loch, surrounded by trees. But now, I’m thinking by the ocean. What do you think?”

Harry played with strands of her hair. It had got thicker over the months, and the ocean air salt breeze was playing havoc with it. “Scotland to live, ocean cottage to visit whenever we like.” Libby’s eyes widened.

“That’s perfect.”

Read More on AO3: Eight Days a Week (Chapter 16)

#eight days a week #drarry #romaine2424 fics #transfem draco #transitioning #drarry fic #writing is hard

[epithmia-moved]

@kazesendo​​​​​​​​​​​​ :        ❛   do  you  think  i  deserve  this  ?    ❜   [ 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝚂 ]  ,    accepting  .

    the  sliding  door  clicks  quietly  from  where  mana  has  snuck  in  and  there  is  barely  more  than  a  few  minutes  passed  in assumed  serenity,   where  they  wander  but  a  few  feet  around  the  floor  before  a  breath  and  voice  fills  the  air.    at  first  mana  cannot  tell  if  ayato  is  speaking  to  himself  or  not.    however,    with  the  stretching  silence,    it  becomes  prevalent  that  it  was  a  question  he  had  directly  aimed  towards  them.    their  eyebrows  furrow  with  thought  and  a  heavy  pressure  building  in  the  center  of  their  forehead  for  just  how  intensely  they  crease.

    “  i  ..  ”      palms  slide  across  the  paper  panels  behind  their  back,    ring  and  index  meeting  and  fingers  twisting;  they  don’t  want  to  overstep,    to  say  something  wrong,    but  he  has  asked  and  rarely  does  that  kind  of  concern  ever  find  itself  validated  within  the  relationship  between  them.    so  with  heartfelt  confidence  does  mana  find  themself  speaking  honestly  an  opinion  they  feel  so  strongly  for that  it  burns  while  bare  feet  pad  cross  the  room  towards  him.     “  ...  i  think  that   you  deserve  to  lose  less.   ”

   he  has  lost  both  of  his  parents,    to  death  no  less  and  been  left  to  pick  up  the  pieces  of  he  and  everything  else  that  was  left  to  survive  the  cataclysm.    to  manage  an  estate  and  it’s  affairs  and  grow  into  a  reality  and  a  role  he  should  not  have  had  to  take  on  so  young,   so  underprepared.    and  when  it  comes  to  parents;  mana  has  lost  one  to  obscurity  and  the  years  long  conclusion  that  death  is  the  only  logical  end.    the  other  yet  still  lives  but  all  is  drowned  in  estrangement,    and  though it  is not  the  same,    both  exist  with  a  sense  of  loneliness  and  the  stress  of  missing  bonds  and  support  that  they  can  sympathize  with.

    he  looks  tired  —  and  really,   is  that so  surprising ?    when  those  close  enough  are  able  to  actually  see  even  just  a  part  of  all  that  the  yashiro  commissioner  has  to  handle ?   all  of  the  things  he  is  unable  to  do  that  the  average  person  can  floats  forward,    all  of  the  things  in  a  childhood  he  has  missed  out  on,   and  by  extent,    his  remaining  family.    but  he  has  earned  everything.    he  deserves  the  good  and  the  profitableness  that  comes  from  it.

    “  to  rest.    to  have  to  worry  about  everything  mundane  and  utterly  nonsensical  rather  than  the  success  of  an  entire  name.    of  your  sister  and  the  innumerable  ways  to  tease  her  throughout  all  the  hours  of  the  day,    wandering  together,    pathlessly,    through  the  city.  ”  

          mana  paints  for  him  an  idyllic  dreamscape  that  they  have  kept  locked  within  the  channels  of  their  heart.   things  they  wish  he  could  have   (  and  perhaps  only  part  of  a  dream  in  which,  when  rendered  in  full  swathes  of  colors,    includes  themself  and  their  own  sisters  beside  him  and  his  ).  they  crawl  across  the  tatami,    enough  to  lean  over  a  discarded  tray  and  enter  his  space.    a  balancing  act  upon  one  palm  as  fingers  slowly  trace  its  way  up  the  side  of  his  neck,    nails  brush  the  edge  of  his  jaw  —  a  soothing  line  from  chin  to  ear.    they  watch  as  his  eyes  slowly  part  from  theirs  in  a  slight  effort  to  follow  the  movement.    a  shuffle  of  the  knees,    a  bit  of  distance  further  and  mana  inches  closer,    tucking  sea  strands  behind  his  ear  and  he  leans  into  the  touch.  

    gently  do  extremities  coax  ayato  to  face  them  fully,    lashes  wet  and  their  thumb  yet  moving  to  brush  away  what  has  not  yet  fallen.    a  tilt  of  his  chin  up  so  that  lips  may  meet  together  in  a  kiss.    it  is  soft,    gentle  —  and  when  they  both  must  pull  back  to  breathe  it  is  just  as  tender.

    “  i  think  that  you  deserve  to  be  selfish  from  time  to  time,  ”        a  biting  of  the  lip,    and  they  think  about  what  they’ve  just  said.    what  they  might  have  left  out  and  what  might  still  need  to  be  expressed  within  this  moment.

    mana  brushes  their  nose  against  his,    lips  grazing  with  the  words  and  a  volume  even  the  two  of  them  could  lose  to  the  wind.    they  hold  him  with  both  hands  now  and  this  time  when  they  meet  it’s  hungrier:  trying  to  pour  into  him  all  of  the  affection  and  adoration  ever  felt,    so  that  he  may  understand  just  how  much  the  person  before  him  has  come  to  love  him    (  he  and  his  burdens  alike  ).  with  each  press  is  that  silent,    screaming  declaration:  i  love  you.   i  adore  you.   i  think  of  you.   i  miss  you  dearly,    when  i  am  gone,   and  it  splits  me.    mana  shifts  again  to  let  their  knees  frame  around  his  form,    weight  distributed  to  their  toes,    to  keep  his  focus  on  them.    to  direct  it  to  their  next  statement.

    “  you  deserve  this.  ”     and  they  kiss  him  again.

#kazesendo #➢ asks . #teehee #heheehehe #i just think that they #and the secret relationship thing is so :chefs kiss:

[insuradvisor]

The Roadmap to Responsible Riding in India

In the bustling streets of India, where every honk and rev is a symphony of urban life, the journey of a rider is more than just a commute—it's an adventure. However, amid the excitement of the open road, there lies a crucial aspect often overlooked: bike documents. These seemingly mundane papers hold the key to legality, safety, and peace of mind for riders across the nation. Let's delve into why bike documents are indispensable in India and how they pave the way for responsible riding.

The Foundation of Legal Compliance:

1. Registration Certificate (RC):

Think of the RC as your bike's identity card—it proves ownership and registration with the authorities. Without it, your ride might as well be a phantom on the roads.

2. Insurance Certificate:

Third-party insurance isn't just a legal requirement; it's your shield against financial storms. From minor scrapes to major collisions, insurance ensures you're not left stranded on the side of the road.

3. Pollution Under Control (PUC) Certificate:

In a country striving for greener pastures, the PUC certificate is your stamp of approval for environmental responsibility. It's your pledge to keep the air clean and the roads green.

4. Road Tax Receipt:

Paying your dues isn't just about following the rules; it's about contributing to the infrastructure that fuels your adventures. The road tax receipt is your ticket to ride on the nation's highways and byways.

Safeguarding Riders on Every Journey:

1. Legal Assurance:

With all your documents in order, you're not just riding; you're cruising with confidence. Whether it's a routine checkpoint or an unexpected detour, legality is your constant companion on the road.

2. Financial Security:

Accidents are the potholes of life, but with insurance, you're equipped to handle the bumps along the way. It's not just about protecting your bike; it's about safeguarding your financial future.

3. Environmental Consciousness:

The roar of your engine is music to your ears, but it shouldn't be a burden on the planet. With the PUC certificate, you're not just riding; you're paving the way for a cleaner, greener tomorrow.

Embracing Responsible Riding:

1. Peace of Mind:

In a world of uncertainty, your documents are your anchor. With them, you ride with peace of mind, knowing you're not just a rider; you're a responsible steward of the road.

2. Empowerment:

Armed with your documents, you're not just navigating; you're charting your course. With legality, security, and responsibility as your guides, the open road is yours to explore.

3. Community Commitment:

As a rider, you're not just part of a community; you're a guardian of its values. With your documents in hand, you uphold the principles of safety, legality, and environmental consciousness that define responsible riding in India.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, bike documents are more than just paperwork; they're the foundation of responsible riding in India. From legal compliance to financial security and environmental consciousness, these documents embody the values that define the rider community. So, the next time you hit the road, remember: with your documents in order, every journey is not just an adventure—it's a testament to your commitment to responsible riding.

#bike documents

[sybilandbranson]

The Five Benefits And Importance Of Reading News

How much are we distracted that we miss reading the news each day? We have to compete with each new generation. News reading was a custom that our parents were more faithful to however, it appears that the tradition is slowly disappearing. You will get more details about online news by visiting 9janews site.

With the development and advancement of information technology, it is noticed that traditional methods of reading news are being replaced by modern methods. News is designed manually to grab the interest of its readers and even in a condensed format. There are several news apps that provide e-papers and tit-bits of news as notifications/updates for their users. We can now access news online via our smartphones tablet, computers and other gadgets via digital magazines and digital newspapers. Magazines and newspapers are available in all regions of the country, from the most remote areas to the largest cities. Technology has solved the problem of accessibility. So what are we waiting for?

Let's get a deeper insight into some of the benefits of reading news.

1. Enrich Your Knowledge

Every story or article is a chance to learn about the current happenings around the globe. News reading is the quickest and most concise way to learn about global and state affairs. News agencies cover every topic that is of interest, such as Politics, Fashion Lifestyle, Sports, Entertainment and many other topics. The reader will always be current on every aspect.

2. Stay connected with the World

Wherever you are, news works like strands of threads that weave the urban and rural population together. You can keep up-to-date with news in your town or city, or even a village. With the help of electronic newspapers and e-magazines, the reader does not have to strain too much to access the news-- with live updates in real time.

3. Develop your language skills and your vocabulary

News reading not only builds knowledge, but also contributes in other ways to an individual's development. An avid and committed news reading can help to build their language skills and expand their vocabulary. It can also help one make connections to the larger picture and understand how politics, the economy environmental and all other aspects are interconnected.

4. Be Part of a Larger Conversation

It is highly essential to be a responsible and active citizen of the nation. This entails being actively involved in the development and progress of the nation, no matter if it's through dialogue or conversation. It is easier to connect and make connections through reading the news and also when there are discussions on the current political climate and events. As an informed citizen and a responsible citizen, you're able to take part in discussions larger than you think are vital to the state and nation.

5. Keep up-to-date with the most recent innovations and discoveries

There is a lot to learn by reading about news on politics, sports, entertainment, science, and more. You can, for instance, keep track of the latest developments in any field. You can stay informed and engaged through reading news.

In conclusion, let's understand that reading news can bring numerous benefits that are interconnected and may open avenues for increasing knowledge, reducing illiteracy and in turn creating a more educated and responsible society.

[muraenide]

@sweetlybite​ asked: It's not something that Floyd really plans to do - it just happens. Something about the look on the taller mer's face, be it the twist of his mouth or the glittering amusement in his eyes; whatever it is, it lights a furious spark under his skin and makes the thrum of his pulse that little bit louder, demanding that he do something.

"You're a fucking joke." Rather than snap his teeth and dig himself in for a fight he goes for the mask - hooking his nails under it's well cared for surface and ripping it free.

It weighs almost nothing, but feels so good to throw - far out of arm's reach at the opposite wall. If it breaks, he doesn't care. Nothing beats the look on Jade's face right then.

"You can't live with yourself and wanna get back at something for gettin' hurt? Look in a mirror first."

Jade could not remember a time when anyone had dared to take off his mask. The fool who threatened it had died a miserable death, eaten alive by flesh-starved isopods. He didn’t think Floyd would be so foolish, until he remembered how great of a fool his brother was when he was young - impulsive, driven by his fickle moods, a teenager who did as he pleased with no regards for consequences or what his actions would entail, or who he was up against.

If they were back in his own timeline he’d have fed him to the bull sharks or tossed him into the piranha pits, or perhaps even kept him locked up in a dark room until he knew what punishment best to give him. Unfortunately, this was not a time when his own organization exists.

When Floyd took his mask and tossed it into the open air like it was nothing but a paper plane, a wave of rushing hot blood surged through his veins, burning and sizzling as they went, like a feeling he’d long since forgotten - anger.

Without warning Jade grabs hold of Floyd’s throat and twists him around, slamming him against the wall as he towers over him with at least the height of half a head.

❝Do you not think that a conclusion like that does not sound like me at all?❞ He breathes. His tone has an unsteady quiver, but it quickly disappeared the next time he spoke. ❝Strange, how I overestimated you and thought you might have known me at least a little bit. Seems I was wrong.❞

His grip around Floyd’s neck tightens. A steady but cruel smile spreads across his features, stretching across the scarred-half of his face. He silently wondered if seeing him without a mask changed anything about Floyd’s opinion of his looks.

In his youth he’s always been fussy about keeping up to appearances. From every strand of hair to every fold of clothing, younger Jade had ensured that nothing seemed out of place as Octavinelle’s Vice President.

That Jade still believed that something pure and true could come from this world, but it was not a belief that helped this Jade cope with the irreversible reality that he’d gotten himself into. To how he’d screwed all their lives from this to next ocean and back.

From under his shirt a needle appears and Jade sticks it into the side of Floyd’s body, emptying all its contents before one could blink. As if anticipating Floyd’s surprise he takes delight in watching the way the teenager’s eyes rolled furiously to try and catch a glimpse of what it was.

He’s too slow. Too pathetic. He’s unfit to be called Floyd the way Jade remembers the Floyd from his timeline, who he thought was much more level-headed and knew better than he did how to read atmospheres. This one’s nothing but a child.

❝How are you feeling?❞ After letting it sit for a moment, he leans down to whisper into his ear, ❝I’ve subscribed a drug. If you are feeling drowsy, allow me to tell you that it’s very normal.❞ He coos.

❝Shh. Just let it happen.❞

Just give in, Floyd. While I’ll have some fun.

Nothing special. Just the good old days of fondling with mind games.

Floyd’s not ready for this. Neither was younger Jade. None of them are, except himself, of course. For all these children had tried to become as human as possible and adapt to their ridiculous customs, the truth is that their animalistic nature remains: No one can stand to watch their mate being marked by another.

#sweetlybite #dead dove cw #drugs cw #𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⁄ ic.

[a-typical]

 What Is Life?

 Erwin Schrödinger was a pivotal figure in formulating quantum mechanics. But Schrödinger was also interested in another scientific problem that had fascinated and dogged scientists for centuries: What is life? Could quantum mechanics answer this age-old mystery? He believed that one by-product of the quantum revolution would be the key to understanding the origin of life.

 Throughout history, scientists and philosophers believed that there was some sort of life force that animated living things. When a mysterious soul entered a body, it suddenly became animate and acted human. Many believed in something called dualism, where the material body coexisted with a spiritual soul.

 Schrödinger, however, believed that the code of life was hidden inside some master molecule that obeyed the laws of quantum mechanics. Einstein, for example, banished the ether from physics. Likewise, Schrödinger would try to banish the life force from biology. In 1944, he wrote a pioneering book, What Is Life?, that had a profound effect on a new generation of postwar scientists. Schrödinger proposed to use quantum mechanics to answer the most ancient of questions about life. In that book, he saw that a genetic code was somehow being transported from one generation of living organisms to the next. He believed that this code was stored not in a soul but in the arrangement of molecules in our cells. Using quantum mechanics, he theorized about what this mysterious master molecule could be. Unfortunately, not enough was known about molecular biology in the 1940s to answer this question.

 But two scientists, James D. Watson and Francis Crick, read the book and were fascinated by the search for this master molecule. Watson and Crick realized that molecules were so small that it was impossible to see or manipulate one. This is because the wavelength of visible light is much larger than a molecule. But they had another quantum trick up their sleeve: X-ray crystallography. The wavelength of X-rays is comparable in size to molecules, so by shining X-rays at a crystal of organic materials, the X-rays would be scattered in many directions. But the pattern of the scatter contained information about the detailed atomic structure of the crystal. Different molecules produced different X-ray patterns. A skilled quantum physicist, by looking at photographs of the scatter, could then surmise what the structure of the original molecule was. So although you could not see the molecule itself, you could decipher its structure.

 Quantum mechanics was so powerful that one could determine the angle at which different atoms bound together to create molecules. Like a child playing with Tinkertoys or Legos, one could then build up, atom for atom, chains of these atoms stuck together to reproduce the actual structure of a complex molecule. Watson and Crick realized that the DNA molecule was one of the main constituents of the nucleus of a cell, so that was a likely target. By analyzing the crucial X-ray photos taken by Rosalind Franklin, they were able to conclude that the structure of the DNA molecule was a double helix.

 In one of the most important papers published in the twentieth century, Watson and Crick were able to use quantum mechanics to decode the entire structure of the DNA molecule. It was a masterpiece. They demonstrated conclusively that the fundamental process of living things—reproduction—could be duplicated at the molecular level. Life was encoded on the strands of DNA found in every cell.

 That was the breakthrough that made it possible to achieve the holy grail of biology, the Human Genome Project, which has given us a complete atomic description of a person’s DNA.

 As Charles Darwin had predicted in the previous century, it was now possible to construct the family tree of life on Earth, with every living thing or fossil a member of one branch of this tree. All of this was the product of quantum mechanics.

 So the unification of the laws of quantum physics not only revealed the secrets of the universe, it also unified the tree of life.

The God Equation: The Quest for a Theory of Everything - Michio Kaku

#The God Equation #Michio Kaku #カク ミチオ #string theory #physics #science #grand unified theory #books #quote #atypicalreads #theoretical physics #science facts #history #science history #reading #bookblr #bibliophile #bookworm #currently reading #booklr #long post

[marketresearchz]

Top 5 Benefits and Importance of Reading News

How engrossed would we say we are on a psychological level that the majority of us pass up perusing the news each day? With each approaching age, we battle much more to keep up. Perusing the news is a practice that was followed all the more strictly by our folks, however is by all accounts becoming dim at this point.

With the appearance and deluge of innovation, it is seen that former methods of information perusing are being supplanted by new ways. News is physically custom-made to catch the consideration of its peruser and is even accessible in a brief organization. There are a few news applications that give e-papers and tit-pieces of information as warnings/refreshes for their clients. We can now get to news online on our mobiles, tablets and different gadgets as advanced papers and computerized magazines. From the most rustic pieces of the country to the metropolitan urban communities, papers and magazines are accessible all over the place. The issue of availability has been spanned by innovation. Anyway, what are we sitting tight for?

We should get a more profound understanding into a portion of the advantages of information perusing.

1. Advance Your Knowledge

With each story or article that is perused, the peruser obtains information about the occasions occurring across the world. us news perusing is the speediest and most compact method for social occasion information about state and worldwide undertakings. Since news organizations cover all subjects of interest like Politics, Fashion, Lifestyle, Sports, Entertainment, and that's just the beginning, the peruser is continually refreshed pretty much this multitude of aspects.

2. Remain Connected With The World

Regardless of where you reside, news works like strands of strings that weave the metropolitan and country populace together. It is feasible to remain educated about the occasions regarding a city, town, town continually. With admittance to e-papers and e-magazines, the peruser doesn't need to battle a lot to get his hands on the news — with continuous updates.

3. Fortify your Language abilities and Enhance your Vocabulary

News perusing fabricates information as well as contributes in alternate ways to a singular's turn of events. Ravenous and committed news perusing can help one expand on their language and upgrade their jargon. It can likewise assist one with coming to an obvious conclusion to frame the bigger picture and comprehend how the economy, legislative issues, climate and everything is interlinked.

4. Be Part of a Larger Conversation

Being a dependable and dynamic resident of the country is exceptionally fundamental. This involves being effectively engaged with the turn of events and progress of the country, regardless of whether it's through discourse or discussion. Perusing the news makes it simpler for one to partner and draw matches when individuals have discussions about recent developments and legislative issues. This way as an educated and mindful resident, one can be essential for the bigger discussions that require significant conversations about the state and country.

5. Be Informed About the Latest Discoveries and Innovations

Perusing news can assist you with procuring an information base about the various things like Politics, Sports, Entertainment, Science, and so forth. You can be in the know about the most recent disclosures made in a specific field, for instance, if Science somehow managed to think of a solution for diabetes. Through news perusing, you're continually refreshed and involved.

All in all, we should comprehend that news perusing can have a few advantages that are interlinked and can open up roads to expanding information, diminishing lack of education and thusly making a more educated and dependable society.

[melon-wing]

gridoc spying on eachother (-gridoc)

Doc looked at the screen in front of him, watching as a figure in red darted through the forest passing one camera after the other while trying to hide. He probably should have picked different coloured clothes if he was trying to blend into the scenery.

“What are you up to, little Hippie?”, Doc wondered out aloud, ignoring the amused snort that he got from Scar who had his nose buried in some research paper. Though from the corner of his eyes he was watching Doc and the Hippie on the screens. He opened his mouth, but one glare from Doc made him shut it just as quickly, though the amused smirk remained.

When he was sure that Scar wouldn’t make any unnecessary comments – again – he turned back to the screen. Grian had finally stopped moving and was crouching behind some bushes right next to their facility, a spyglass in hand. He was up to something. Doc was so sure of it. The Hippies had been far too quiet lately. Doc might have even come to the conclusion that they had given up if he didn’t know Grian better. That guy never gave up.

Though on the other hand… maybe with Impulse joining Grian had lost interest in their little game of cat and mouse. Maybe he didn’t come around to watch them as often anymore because he wasn’t interested in their banter now that he had someone.

“Doc.” Doc whipped his head around to glare at Scar who was smiling softly at him. “You’re about to break the table. Again.”

Doc looked down where his mechanical hand had grabbed onto the wood, little dents already forming below his fingers. He took a deep breath, unclenching his hand, calming, until-

“Are you thinking about Impulse kissing Grian again?”

The table broke a second later under the pressure of his metal fingers, wooden splinters falling to the ground.

“No”, he spat, though his mind was right back to the day he had been on surveillance at the Hippie Camp hidden behind the treeline to watch Grian and Impulse sitting by the Campfire. Leaning in so close together, holding hands, laughing and smiling and then Impulse had leaned in.

Doc stood up quickly, the chair scattering to the floor. He didn’t want to think about it again.

“I’m going to chase him off.”

“Have fun”, Scar said with a giggle and it took every ounce of self restraint to not hit his partner over the head. Preferably with a chair.

Doc didn’t care if Grian was seeing anyone. Sure, they had flirted constantly - at least Doc thought they had - but that still didn’t mean there was anything going on between them. Grian was a free man.

Doc grumbled a little, his mood at a low point as he called up his trident, the weapon materializing in his hand. He slowly approached the point where he had last seen Grian and there he was, still sitting in the bushes right below their security cam, attention focused on the building, watching the room Scar was still sitting in.

Doc stepped up right to him and before Grian could react he grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off his feet and pushing him onto the ground, kneeling above him, the trident now right below Grian’s chin.

“Don’t move, Hippie.”

Grian looked at him, eyes wide, but far quicker than Doc expected, the surprise faded and he smiled. “Doc! Nice to see you! It’s so lovely that you didn’t send Scar this time. I missed you.”

Doc searched Grian’s face in confusion, but the other just kept smiling. The flowercrown on his head was slightly crooked from the fall and Doc resisted the urge to put it into its proper place again.

When he didn’t reply, Grian slowly raised a hand, making Doc tense, but he didn’t make true on the threat his trident posed. Grian’s smile widened as the hand reached the side of Doc’s head, pulling on a strand of hair and then gently tugging it behind Doc’s ear. When the hand left Doc noticed a bright red flower behind his ear from the corner of his eyes.

“You really would have made a pretty Hippie. Flowers suit you. I could make you a flowercrown as well. Made Impulse one and-”

Grian stopped as the trident pressed against his throat a bit harder. Grian looked at him for a moment in thought before smiling again, and was it Doc’s imagination or did his cheeks become a little more red? “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Doc.”

Doc felt heat rush to his face and he almost lost the grip on his trident. Was he this easy to read that first Scar and Grian had seen right through him so easily?

“You know”- Grian began, looking off to the side of the building he had been watching and the smile turned to a smirk -”It makes you so predictable.”

“What?”

“We knew you were there. When we kissed.”

“You- what?”

“We knew. And I knew this was going to happen. All part of the plan.”

Doc blinked a few times. There were probably a thousand questions he could have - no - he should have asked, all of them about the plan Grian mentioned. But there was only one question that seemed important enough for him to ask right now.

“So you guys are not… dating?”

Grian giggled and shook his head. “That was just a little tiny peck to get your attention. I just needed you to be annoyed enough to not think your actions through. Why else do you think I would spy on you guys right below the security camera?”

“You know? How?”

“How did I know about the camera? Well they’re not that hard to spot. Especially if you let your colourblind partner paint them.” Grian smirked and pointed up. Doc followed his finger and true to what Grian said, hidden among the leaves was a bright red security camera. Sticking out just as much as Grian did with his red shirt. Doc let out an annoyed sigh. He would give Scar a stern talking once he returned about making sure to pick the right paint.

There was a beep coming from the communicator on Grian’s wrist and it made Grian’s whole face light up, his eyes practically sparkling in delight.

“Well it seems like it went all according to plan. You saw me on your little screens and left Scar alone.”

There was another beep. This time from Doc’s communicator. He didn’t take the trident off as he moved his other hand to look at the message.

<GoodTimesWithScar> The Hippies broke in! One of our machines is gone!

Doc groaned and glared down at Grian who had the cheekiest smile on his face.

“So the flirting was all part of this plan?” Doc tried to hide his disappointment. He had enjoyed their witty banter too much. He had even looked forward to it.

“Oh no”, Grian simply said in a cheery tone. “I was flirting with you because you’re really hot.”

Doc felt his heart skip a beat and he just knew his cheeks would be the darkest shade of green going by how hot his whole face felt. The trident disappeared back into his inventory again and he took a hold of Grian’s chin instead, slowly leaning down.

“Shouldn’t you go help Scar out?”

Doc shook his head. “You got what you wanted already. I can’t change that anymore. It’s time that I get what I want. I can only take that much teasing, Grian”, he growled in a low voice, before leaning down to capture Grian’s lips with his.

#🍉 stories #ask 🍉 #hermitship #hermitshipping #gridoc #hermitcraft

[anyoneseenadam]

You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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

You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

--

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

--

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

--

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

--

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

--

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #throne of glass