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antimonarchy · 3 years

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How to Create Image Descriptions

So I’ve been creating image descriptions on tumblr for about a month, and I wanted to share some helpful guides I’ve found on how to create them as well as my own tips that I’ve picked up. Video descriptions and transcripts are also necessary, but since I mostly focus on image descriptions that’s what this guide is about. This might get a bit long, so fair warning.

What are image descriptions?

Image descriptions are a textual depiction of what is going on in an image, as shown with the image below.

[Image ID: A picture of a person with short black hair working on a computer. They are sitting at a wooden table with a large blue pot of pink flowers in front of a grey brick wall. A guitar is propped up against the wall in the background, and there is a string of lights near the ceiling. /.End ID]

Why create image descriptions?

The primary reason for creating image descriptions is to allow people who are blind/have limited vision to experience visual content. Many people who are blind/have low vision use screenreaders, which read text out loud when it is clicked or hovered over with a mouse. A large amount of online content, such as pictures, graphics, or drawings, is visual and so possibly cannot be experienced by someone with vision problems. As a general rule of thumb, anything that can be dragged or dropped most probably requires a description. In addition, if someone has partial vision and attempts to zoom in on an image, sometimes it can become pixelated and impossible to understand.

Some neurodivergent people might need a description to understand the tone of an image, such as the meaning of facial expressions of a person to understand what emotion the artist is trying to depict

Some people might not have high speed internet or have low computer memory, meaning that they turn off images in order to save space. This means that they as well might require descriptions of visual content

Are image descriptions the same as alt text?

no, alt text and image descriptions serve the same purpose, but they are different in how they are presented. Alt text, short for alternative text, is included in the html of an image and can be read by a screen reader. However, there are many reasons why many prefer image descriptions over alt text.

There is a limit of 200 words in alt text on tumblr specifically (and not in other contexts, which makes this information only applicable here), which means that detailed images or graphics are unable to be described fully without possibly cutting out important information.

People who require descriptions, but who do not use a screenreader, must right-click and search through the html of an image in order to find alt text, but with an image description they are saved that work.

Who should create image descriptions?

Everyone who is able to should create image descriptions. A content creator is best able to communicate the message of their work through text, as they are the one who created it and thus understand its message the best. While of course it takes practice when starting out, over time image descriptions become second nature when posting visual content. Always check the notes of a tumblr post for an ID rather than reblogging without one.

What should be included in image descriptions?

There is no simple answer to this question, there are a variety of resources and guides on how to create one, and you should not accept my advice as the ultimate authority, as I am by no means a professional, and only create descriptions in my spare time as part of the effort to make Tumblr more accessible. However, here is my information for those starting out.

First, consider what type of visual content it is. Is it fanart of a tv show, a screenshot of a tweet, or an informational graphic meant to educate people on a particular issue?

Then, consider what information is most important in the image. If the visual content is an image of a famous building, then in writing the description the focus should be on the building, rather than describing for instance the color of the sky, surrounding buildings, or the clothing of the people walking by, as they are not the information that is being presented.

Perkins ELearning has an excellent list of things that should generally be included, which I will include here. In my experience, these are the most important elements to describe

The people and animals in an image

The background or setting of an image

Elements that relate to the context specifically, so if it was an image of a congested highway on a news website, the description would mention the packed cars

The colors of an image (don’t overdo it however, a simple ‘light blue’ will suffice, no need to say something like ‘a color blue that is similar to the color of a robin’s egg’ unless it is crucial to the viewer’s comprehension of an image)

Context for an image. For instance, imagine if someone had drawn a version of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme, with Eleanor Shellstrop from the Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” Rather than provide a description to the example such as: [Image ID: A drawing of Eleanor Shellstrop saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” /.End ID] you would instead say [Image ID: A redraw of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme with Eleanor Shellstrop from The Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place. /.End ID]

If the image is of a social media post, include the username/handle of the creator as well as the reactions (likes/reblogs) if they are visible in the image, as they may be cut off by the original screenshotter.

If it is a drawing or piece of art, always look for the artist’s signature when writing a description

How do I write an image description?

To start off, here is an example description written for a piece of art I made myself.

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Suki from Avatar: The Last Airbender over a gold background. She is shown from the shoulders up facing the viewer, and has a neutral expression. She is wearing metal armor over a light green tunic, and is wearing her Kyoshi Warriors facepaint and headdress. The artist’s signature ‘Astra’ is written in the lower right of the image. /.End ID]

In this description:

I made clear where the description begins and ends, so that someone with a screenreader is not confused. I usually use brackets ([ ]), write the words ‘Image ID’ (or video/gif/other) and finish with a slash, period, and the words End ID. (/.End ID)

I emphasized the type of image, in this case a digital drawing

I said the character’s name (obviously this may not be known if describing a photo or something you are not familiar with)

I described the background and the character’s clothing

I described her expression

I included the description of my signature.

This is my basic process for writing a description

I first say what the content is, such as a drawing, photo, or screenshot of a tweet.

I then use what is called Object-Action-Context for the most part, which UXDesign has a long article on https://uxdesign.cc/how-to-write-an-image-description-2f30d3bf5546. For example, [Image ID: A photo of a person standing in a crowd waving to someone out of view in front of a river. /.End ID] While obviously I would usually provide more information than that, Person = object, standing + waving to someone out of view = action, and ‘in a crowd’ = context.

I describe the clothing that might be worn

I talk about the position that people in an image might be in, such as leaning against one another on a couch, or standing with their fingers intertwined

I talk about the expressions on their faces, if shown

I talk about their general appearance (if important to the description) such as hair color/length

As said before, I talk about the context of an image if necessary

If the background is a simple color, I usually include it in the first sentence of the description. However if it is more complicated, such as a river winding through a dense forest, I include that at the end of the description after describing the important elements.

Typically if I am reblogging an image, I do not add on any commentary after creating an image description, as this allows others to reblog my description without my personal reaction. If I want to add on to an image, I usually reblog my description post.

In general, it is best to remain objective when writing a description, meaning not including your opinion of the content. However especially in an informal setting, say for instance you were describing an adorable cow, I would see it as fine to say [Image ID: A small drawing of an adorable cow. /.End ID] because the emphasis is on the appearance. There isn’t a clearcut answer, and it really depends on the context.

What are some tips for writing descriptions/common pitfalls?

If there is an element of an image like a line that represents an emotion, or a sound effect like ‘clang’ if something falls, include that in the description. For instance, [Image ID: ...beside the mug that has fallen on the floor, there are the words ‘sploosh’ indicating the sound of the water that has spilled out. /.End ID]

Put image descriptions first. Don’t hide them under readmores or any other text. If you have something with multiple images and you are the creator, place the description under each image in succession rather than all at the end. Readmores are ableist, as they require someone who has vision problems/one of the conditions described above to do more work to access the message of visual content.

If you are mentioning the skin color and/or race of someone in an image, make sure you describe it for anyone else who might be in an image. Don’t just describe the race of someone who appears to not be white. This doesn’t mean that you have to describe race, such as if the character is one whose race is commonly known, just that if you do, make sure you do it for all characters/people in an image.

In order to write IDs effectively, I’ve found it useful to download a screen reader. I use NVDA, which is entirely free and easy to use and can be downloaded here: https://www.nvaccess.org/download/.

Insert + Q turns it off

While my guide has focused mostly on image descriptions, video descriptions are also necessary. However they are not my area of expertise, and differ slightly, so I would recommend anyone interested in them to check out this website https://www.washington.edu/accessibility/videos/

Transcripts, for those who are d/Deaf/Hard of Hearing, are also necessary for making content accessible, and might be required for content that also has a visual format, such as a Tiktok. I would recommend this website https://www.w3.org/WAI/media/av/transcripts/ for anyone interested in writing transcripts

What are some more resources I can check out?

Here are a series of websites that I have found while researching how to write descriptions

UX Design - I mentioned UX Design earlier when talking about Object - Action - Context, this article is very useful and examines how to structure a description and provides very useful examples for beginners

Perkins E-Learning - This article is very useful in helping someone what to include in a description, such as clothing or background information, as well as providing some additional information on alt text if you are interested

Meloukhianet - This blog post by s. e. smith goes into detail on the elements of an image to emphasize depending on its context, using the example of a picture of their cat sunning himself.

SOAP - This article by the Stanford Online Accessibility Program (SOAP) provides a large amount of information on the purpose of image descriptions and what content requires them

HubPages - This article by SOTD and Zera discusses the difference between sparse, lush, and overdone descriptions, which is the amount of information included, and if/when each should be used.

I hope you found this information helpful, I encourage everyone to check out these websites, and my inbox is always open for questions!

#has id #please feel free to send me any questions you might have!#while I am not a professional by any definition of the term #accessibility is a large interest of mine and so I am more than happy to help #image descriptions #accessibility

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ericspinkhair · 3 years

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quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenario #the boyz kevin smut #the boyz kevin scenario #moon hyungseo smut #moon hyungseo scenario #the boyz kevin moon smut #the boyz kevin moon scenario #the boyz hyungseo smut #the boyz hyungseo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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entities-of-posts · 2 years

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Archivist. With Madison’s most recent actions, I’m growing more and more anxious, and I believe it’s safe to assume you are as well.

I’m already know this, but my “relationship” with the web goes deeper than what it may appear on the surface. My first encounter was significantly farther back than when Madison shut me in the archive proper. There is a very fine line between being a Doll and a Puppet.

I don’t think it’s just me. I hold the belief that the entire Andersson family is intwined in some sort of Web. And we have been for a very long time. I’ve felt it for a long time, but one of my strongest encounters wasn’t too long before the one with Madison.

A couple summers before it happened, I went abroad to Europe with my older cousin, M. I was about fourteen or fifteen, and they were in their younger twenties. I can speak a little bit of French, and saying I speak it is generous to say the least, but it’s enough so that we weren’t completely lost, and M knows quite a bit of German. my cousin had been to most of the countries we were visiting before, so again, we weren’t completely lost.

We were in Paris (original, I know), and we had decided it would be fun to wander some of the lesser known streets and visit small consignment shops, we were right. It was fun. One of the shops had a lot of really neat things.

There was this cardigan, I love cardigans. It was thin and very delicately crocheted, it went down to my knees. The cardigan was mostly dark grey (it probably used to be black, but it was washed out), and there was this spindly spiderweb pattern all over it, it was nothing like I’d ever seen before and I had to have it. What caught my eye, was that it was very cheap. Yeah, it was old and washed out, but it was also intricate and seemingly hand made my somebody who really knew what they were doing. If I remember correctly, it was only €3.

When I went to buy it, the person at the register smiled at me. They seems to be only a year or so older than me, and they were very androgynous looking with neon green hair, it was long but half of it was shaved off. Their name tag said “Camille”, and they had small round glasses with gold wire frames. Something that stood out was their facial piercings, they didn’t have a lot, but they did have snakebites. They weren’t the little balls or studs that you usually see, they were longer and sharp, curved slightly inward like pincers. It was really cool, actually.

I looked over to M, they didn’t seem phased by anything. The cheshire, Camille, spoke again, looking directly at me, and I felt as though I needed to look back, to make eye contact.

Their grin got bigger when they saw what I was buying. “This is beautiful,” they said in perfect English, which I definitely wasn’t expecting. I think they clocked the slight shock on my expression, because their smile grew again. It was off-putting, but not so much that I saw any red flags. “I’ve been wanting to sell this for a very long time, my grandmother made it, but I outgrew it several years ago” they rang it up for me, looking to me and then to M. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable, the cashier has spoken to me twice and I hadn’t responded, like an ass. “Yes,” I agreed “I can’t wait to wear it”. I smiled, only slightly forced. “I love cardigans, and this is one of the coolest ones I’ve ever seen”

Once I finished buying it, I said goodbye and M and I left the little shop. M asked me what the hell that was, that they thought I only knew the bare minimum of French. I was confused, that conversation was in English. I didn’t say anything though, because I look up to M and I didn’t want them to think I’m crazy. I wasn’t crazy, I’m not crazy.

Later that night I was holding the cardigan, I was itching to wear it and I was thinking of what it could go with that I brought with me. I reached into the pocket, and there was an old picture. It looked like Camille, but the picture looked old. Maybe it was their grandmother… but it had their name and contact information scrawled on the back, “Camille Lavigne, [phone number]”. The next day M and I caught our train to Germany. I would have sworn I saw them at the train station. And when we got to Germany. There’s… no way that they could have been there.

Throughout our travels M and o kept running into them, we kept having conversations that M couldn’t understand, it was starting to freak me out. On our train to Belgium, I heard whispers. Some voice talking about a “Mother”. M didn’t hear it, but it was there. I stopped seeing Camille when we came back to the states. It was sort of a relief, but somehow I felt like I had lost something. The photograph stayed in the cardigan pocket, I couldn’t get rid of it. I still have the Cardigan. I think I was wearing it when I went into the Archive storage…

… that is worrying. I’m afraid you’re not wrong. I’ve recently ran into your sister again, as you know, and she does have… a hint of strings about her. Not only as a puppet.

I would like to examine that cardigan closer. I have seen you wear it before…

And this Camille… you describe a rather familiar hairstyle. Is there any particular reason you chose to dye your own hair the same color?

… I don’t remember if it was already this shade when you were human.

#the doll in the archives #statements

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fowl-fox · 3 years

Text

The Ivy, and After

(Yes, it’s another Artemis Fowl fanfic I’m writing that focuses on the lesser-liked Artemis Fowl, but also Angeline. All the same, I hope you’ll give it a read and let me know what you think.)

Artemis Senior gripped the ladder’s rung with such force that the wood creaked. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to change his mind.

Now Artemis himself grew worried. “Father, you must tell me.”

“Of course,” said his father with a start, as if just remembering where he was. “I must tell you...” A tear fell from his eye, dropping onto his shirt, deepening the blue. “I remember when I first saw your mother,” he said. “I was in London, at a private party in The Ivy. A room full of scoundrels, and I was the biggest one in the bunch. She changed me, Arty. Broke my heart then put it together again. Angeline saved my life. Now . . .” (Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox)

Part One:

Artemis Fowl did not so much enjoy parties these days. He tolerated them.

Perhaps a few years ago, he’d be having a decent time. These big money functions may not be known for being particularly lively, but the food and drink was almost always divine, and there were always connections and deals to be made, far away from the eyes and ears of the common rabble. His father had taught him how to make many a beneficial deal over the years, but it was his mother who had really shown him just how to enamor himself with his peers for selfish gains. The cunning french woman had possessed a way with words and behavior that endeared everyone to her, and when he was younger he would watch carefully as she even managed to endear his openly bitter, despicable father to others.

But she would not be at these parties with him anymore. Instead, across the table sat his father with his second wife. The attractive and decently clever middle-aged woman wasn’t the real reason for his parent’s messy divorce in his late teenage years, but she was the reason his mother would no longer attend these functions on her own.

The Fowl family and their bodyguards had momentarily retreated from the crowd so Mr. Fowl could rest- his health had been declining steadily in the past few years. Artemis watched with a degree of exasperation as his stepmother feigned sympathy for his father’s fatigue with a delicate hand on his shoulder and a bat of her eyelashes. He did not hate the woman, but he felt no warmth for her. Overall, her presence was inconsequential. His father was too entrenched in tradition to give away his only remaining son’s inheritance to the woman who was comfortably riding out the last few years of his life. Once his father finally passed, she’d move on to the next opportunity, and Artemis doubted he’d see or hear much of her again. His father brushed her hand away, lighting a cigarette while complaining about the humidity in the room.

Deciding it best to turn his attention to anywhere else, Artemis lit a cigarette as well and casually looked about the room at the other party-goers who had separated themselves from the larger congregation in the center. An old oil baron sleepily reclined at the table next to them, a heavily chewed but unlit cigar dangerously close to falling from his lips. A little further down, two very old women occupied themselves by snidely commenting on the state of the party over wine. One of them clocked his gaze and sniffed haughtily, and Artemis respectfully held back a sneer before purposefully turning his attention to the other side of the room.

That was when he saw her.

She was a slim woman. Elegant, dressed in a dark blue evening gown that was the definition of tasteful yet alluring. Her facial features stood out to him among the many other women he’d seen at the party that night. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced; her nose could not be described as petite, but he realized that it was attractive in its own right. Artemis wished he could make out the color of her eyes. Were they green? Brown? Hazel? The light made it impossible to tell from where he currently sat.

A delicate gold chain fell around her neck and into the dip of her pronounced collarbone. Her bare arms were thin, but toned, and Artemis’ gaze followed from her shoulders down to her strong wrists and long fingers that made him wonder if she played piano. The rest of her body was obscured by the table she sat at, so he allowed himself to look back up at her face, and her hair.

Heaven, he thought. Her hair.

Her hair color danced along the fine line between blonde and brunette, and in an unexpected moment of primal lust, Artemis imagined those silky tresses curtaining his face as he nipped at the soft skin of her neck. He imagined those toned arms wrapped around his torso, her long, thin fingers trailing up and down his back before running through his hair as he worked his own hands down, down, down...

The young heir ashed his cigarette over the crystal ashtray and looked away, discretely flexing his thighs under the table and praying that nobody near him would notice the flush he felt blooming on his pale face.

“Are you feeling well, Artemis?”

Artemis silently cursed his stepmother as his father turned his dull grey eyes over to him.

“Perfectly fine, Margaret. A bit warm, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” hummed Aodh Fowl, “Is that all?”

Artemis clenched his jaw. It was a habitual response to stress and anxiety that was (and forever would be) the ruin of many a night-guard. He knew when his father was purposefully pushing his buttons. He sometimes wondered if the old man considered it friendly.

“Yes, sir. Please excuse me.”

Artemis had decided retreat was his best option to avoid further stress. It would do no good to be poked and prodded into losing his temper at such a crowded event. He continued to excuse himself through the crowd of aristocrats and socialites idly chatting over champagne and cigarettes. He knew without seeing that his bodyguard was following him. Reaching the bar, he requested glass of water and tried to calm his nerves.

Looking throughout the crowd, he saw her again, this time no longer seated. An angel, he thought, as she gracefully wove her way towards the bar. A rare feeling of panic pooled in his stomach. He immediately wished his water was scotch, or even a glass of wine. Anything to somewhat quell the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

Too late, he thought, as he realized that not only was she headed towards the bar, she was headed towards him. And soon enough, she was before him. Like a man suddenly face to face with a growling tiger, he dared not move.

“May I ask your name?”

Her voice was soft, silky. He immediately wanted to hear it again.

“Of course.” he responded, praying to gods that he did not really believe in that his voice would remain steady. Now that she stood directly before him, her beauty threatened to swallow him whole and spit out his bones. He resisted the overwhelming urge to take in the entirety of her figure. His mother would have pinched him if he had behaved so poorly, and even in her absence he feared that pinch of disapproval, almost as much as he had feared his father’s hands before age and illness took their toll.

“My name is Artemis.”

“That’s an interesting name.” She smiled, and Artemis felt his heart catch fire in his chest.

“What is your name?” he asked, realizing he had never cared more in his life for an answer.

“Angeline.”

Angeline. Angeline. It was perfect. It was deserved! An angel on earth, a beautiful creature from the heavens whose presence and beauty struck fear into his mortal soul.

“It suits you well,” he swallowed, deciding to take a bold risk. Her smile widened, and triumph fed the flame in his heart. It threatened to consume him, to burn him thoroughly inside and out. And it was wonderful! God, it was wonderful. In the twenty-four years of his affection-starved life he had never wanted for anything more than this woman to look at him warmly.

“Your last name is ‘Fowl’, isn’t it?” she asked. She looked him over, before settling back on his strikingly bright eyes. She snorted, and somehow managed to do so delicately.

“That suits you very well.”

Her smile vanished, and instantly the flame in his heart was extinguished. What was left was only a brittle, burnt lump that was crumbled into ash in her elegant hands.

“I’ve heard all about your family,” she continued, ignoring his desperate glacier blue eyes as he silently begged forgiveness from the angel he’d just met. “And I saw you staring earlier. So I want to be very clear. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

And then she was gone, weaving gracefully back through the crowd towards her table.

Despite the crowded room, Artemis felt completely alone.

---

Artemis did not speak to anyone else for the rest of the night. Even his father, who normally didn’t care about his son’s emotional state, seemed to know better than to ask about his silence. When the family returned to Ireland, he immediately immersed himself in the ever-increasing workload his ailing father left up to him, resolving to forget the angel that destroyed the hope he had foolishly allowed himself that night. And he almost did, until nearly a year later, when he saw her once again.

---

This is the end of Part One! I give no promise as to when Part Two will be finished and posted. I have an important surgery coming up very soon and I have no clue how much I feel up to writing anything. Thank you for reading.

#artemis fowl #artemis fowl fanfiction #fowl senior #angeline fowl #fowldom

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lahyene · 4 years

Text

Chemistry Read.

Pairing: chris evans x celeb!reader

Summary: You’ve been casted as Chris’ love interest in an upcoming movie he’s not only acting in but directing himself. He calls you over to run lines, but you soon find out he wants to do a little more than that to prepare for filming.

Themes: smut

Word count: 1537

Your heart is racing as you knock on the door of the upscale LA apartment owned by none other than Chris Evans himself, the director and lead actor of the upcoming movie you’ve been selected to play the female lead in.

You only met him a handful of times. He was there during the casting process, of course, and you had to have a chemistry read with him. You could still remember the way he gazed at you with those perfect blue eyes, as if you were the only girl in the world- he’s dangerous, and you’re reminding yourself of that now as you hear the footsteps approach the front door.

But when he opens it and looks down at you with those rugged features and charming smile, any warning from your conscience is thrown out the window. If this was a cartoon, you would have a puddle of drool at your feet by now. He looks ridiculously handsome in a steel grey henley that fits his muscle just right, a pair of dark jeans, and a Red Sox cap atop his fluffy brown hair.

“Hey,” you greet with a smile, barely tugging on your lower lip with your teeth. “Sorry I’m a little late. LA traffic, you know how it is.”

“Oh, do I.” He scoffs, gesturing for you to come inside. “Just another reason as to why I miss Boston everyday. I mean, sure, we get a little road rage from time to time, but at least we know how to keep it movin’.” He laughs softly and you do too, already feeling at ease despite his intimidatingly good looks. “Thanks for coming here to run lines, though. Can I get ya a drink or anything?”

“Just a water is fine, thanks.” You reply with a smile, unzipping your purse to take your script out. “So, uh, was there any scene in particular you wanted to go over?”

“Honestly, I was thinking we should go over the more intimate scenes.” He answers truthfully, going into the kitchen to retrieve your water from the fridge. “I mean, it’s clear we’re killing it with the light, romantic, sugary sweet stuff, ya know?” He comes back with a small grin, handing you the bottle. “And I hear it’s your first time doing more... explicit scenes in a movie?”

Your heart is beating faster solely from the thought of doing anything explicit with Chris, but you force yourself to look composed, smiling slightly. “To be honest, this movie has a lot of firsts for me. I’m more used to modeling than acting, but I’m so grateful to have this chance. I’ve wanted to be an actress ever since I was little.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” Chris nods, and you swear you notice his pacific hues rake over your body. “I remember seeing your pictures during casting. You mainly model lingerie, right?” He smiles, head tilting slightly. “So you’ll probably already feel more comfortable in front of the camera in... well, next to nothing.” He laughs, but you don’t miss the way he bites his lip, the sight in itself making you feel thirsty for more than just water.

Did he really call you here just to run lines?

“Yeah, I’m pretty used to it.” You answer, your voice a little softer than before as your mind begins plotting. After taking a sip of the water, you set it down on the table. “But it’s not just about the camera, right? It’s also important to be comfortable with the person you’re working with.” You look up at him innocently, barely raising an eyebrow. “So maybe we should really get into character, huh?”

Chris blinks, but the corner of his lips tug upwards ever-so-slightly into a tiny smirk as he looks at you with intrigue and curiosity. “What exactly were you thinking?”

You pick up the script again, flipping to the right page. “Well, for instance,” you answer nonchalantly, “there’s a scene where our characters are making out- but we’re both naked, because we just went skinny dipping.”

Chris’ smirk is getting slightly wider as he walks backwards, sitting down on the couch with his jean clad legs barely spread, his thick thighs looking more welcoming than ever as if waiting for you to sit upon them. “Right. So what are you proposing here?”

You bite your lip as you admire his manly stature before placing the script down, taking hold of the hem of your tank top and pulling it up over your head. You’re making a bold move here, but Hollywood likes bold. And from the way Chris is staring at you in complete awe and hunger, it appears he likes bold too. You’re not done yet, though- you reach behind to unhook your bra, letting it drop to the floor. His blue-green eyes widen slightly before a husky curse escapes from under his breath, his large hands immediately reaching to yank his own shirt off, his hat falling off with it. “C’mere,” he mutters hastily, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you to his lap, eliciting a delighted squeal from your lips.

“I don’t think that’s how the script goes,” you barely have time to tease before he pulls you in for a kiss, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck with his fingers tangled in your hair.

He chuckles darkly in between steamy kisses, moving his other hand up to squeeze and grope your breasts as if practically worshiping them. “You said we should get comfortable with each other first, right? I think that’s exactly what we’re doing here...”

You can’t help but hum and whimper in satisfaction as he plays with your breasts, your hands moving up so you can run your fingers through his hair as you continue your heated make out session. It isn’t long before you find his belt, unbuckling it and tossing it aside, lifting your hips so both of you can remove your pants and underwear.

“Did you actually intend on running lines, Chris?” you ask with a breathless giggle, curling your fingers around his thick shaft as you rub it up and down.

He lets out a deep and guttural groan, tilting his head back while he bucks his hips slightly. “I... really did want to, for at least a little bit... but... fuck,” he’s practically panting, teeth tugging at his lip harshly from the enjoyment your hand is giving him, “Ever since we first cast you, and since I saw your pictures... shit, I needed you. You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever fuckin’ seen...”

“Little ol’ me?” you whisper, rubbing faster and enjoying the pleasured expressions twisting his handsome face. “Well, I’m flattered, seeing how many A-listers you know...”

“Shit, baby.” He growls, giving you an urgent look of desperation. “I need to be inside you right fuckin’ now.”

As much as you want to tease, you’re only torturing yourself here. You look around, breathing out, “Do you have a-”

“First drawer,” he immediately answers, nodding towards the chest beside the couch. You giggle slightly and lean over, opening it and taking out a condom, removing the wrapper and slowly sliding it along his impressive shaft.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, lifting your hips and teasing him by rubbing your wet core against his tip. “You’re going to stretch me out so much...”

“Fuck,” he groans, gripping your waist, “I can’t wait, baby girl.”

You sink yourself down onto his swollen head, a moan erupting from your throat as you grip his biceps tightly, eyes closing as you feel him already enter deep inside you. “Holy... holy fuck, Chris...!”

He smirks breathlessly as he watches you bounce on his cock, his massive hands supporting your waist and helping you move as well, his chest heaving with his breaths. “Shit, it’s like your pussy was fuckin’ made for me, honey. You feel so goddamn good!”

Your moans grow louder as his hands find your ass, squeezing and groping and smacking every chance he gets. You can’t help but marvel over the beautiful sight underneath you, from his perfect facial hair, lust filled blue eyes, huge arms, and toned abdomen. You arch your back to get a better angle, leaning forward as your breasts bounce right under his nose- he gladly begins to kiss and suck on them as he thrusts himself upwards, wanting to fill you up as much as he possibly can.

“Fuck....! Chris, I’m gonna....”

“Me too, baby, holy fuck, me too!”

You both find your release, your mouth open as you practically gasp for breath, running a hand through your slightly dampened hair as you slowly lift yourself off him. He helps you steady yourself before removing the condom, walking away to dispose of it- you can’t help but stare at his beautiful frame, eyes lingering over the chiseled muscle of his back and dropping to his infamous nude ass. You lean back against the couch, trying to catch your breath again.

He comes back and chuckles, picking up your water bottle and handing it to you, shaking the sweat out of his brown hair. “You know, I think this was way more productive than any chemistry read or rehearsal I’ve ever had...”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

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maxismatchccworld · 3 years

Text

Patch Notes

PC: 1.74.59.1030 / Mac: 1.74.59.1230 Console: Version 1.41 Heylo Simmers! Hope everyone is doing great wherever you are in the World. We have a small Game Update for you today, we hope you enjoy it. Happy Simming! Chaus Chaus - Dag Dag! -SimGuruRusskii What’s New? As you may have seen revealed in our past Sims 411 Livestream, we added in this update a few new Asian Eye Presets for Female and Male Frames. You can find these in Create A Sim and we hope you love them! In case you missed the Livestream, I have applied my nonexistent photoshop skills and have added them in these patch notes for your enjoyment. See below for maximum visuals!

Besides adding these presets we also have updated two hairstyles from our Base Game. Firstly, we have the gorgeous Hair_MedTexCurls or as we have named it in our Sims 411 blog post, the “Retro Style Large Afro”. Beautiful! I added a few screenshots on how it looks with Female and Male Frames, and Adults, Children, and Toddlers.

Secondly, we have the fab Hair_EF13AfroShort or as we called it the “Short Afro.” I have added below some screenshots with Female and Male Frames - Adults, Children, and Toddlers as well for your reference. I want to note that we noticed that this particular hairstyle with the Black Color Swatch looks a bit Grey in the screencaps below, but we can tell you that we have fixed it already for a future update.

Now onto the fixes...

Bug Fixes Sims 4

We fixed an issue with two of our facial hair offerings, the ymFacialHair_BeardThinGoatee, and ymFacialHair_ChinStrap, as they were making Sims faces wider when applied.

The Voodoo Doll’s thumbnail in Sims’ Inventories has been fixed so it doesn’t change appearance when used, as it should not.

Simmers in Laptop Mode will no longer see glitch textures when the Easel is placed on the Lot. It was like a glitch in the Matrix, just… visually striking.

Get Famous

Sims that saw their Transfer Videos to The More Views Video Station interaction drop from the queue while doing other things will no longer have this occur. Because what is technology but helpful? And why shouldn’t Sims shower and transfer their drone footage whenever they want to amirite?

Vampires

Vampire Sims will no longer be forever Compelled for a Deep Drink. As much as that sometimes might be what Vampire Sims would be compelled to do, they don’t have to. So it is not something that they probably want to have in their interaction queue forever and all time. Forever is a long time...

Country Kitchen

The Country Charm Counter will now look correct when getting dirty, and not quite like… it has been taken out of a post apocalyptic movie set. There is a fine line between dirty, and… well, unrecognizable.

#s4cc #s4 patch notes

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senju-sekhmet · 3 years

Text

The Leash (Part 12, Fin.)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~8600 words (this chapter, finished work: 83.600) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10; Part 11

Read on AO3!

Final chapter! To all the brave souls that kept up with this fic until now: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! <3 Disclaimer below, as always!

DISCLAIMER! My super self-indulgent work comes to an end! I hope this makes up a bit for all the angst that happened and - stick around until the end for more notes from silly me <3

_________

The burn had faded.

Abruptly as ever, and it was followed by nightmares that you knew well. Nightmares whose intensity paled in comparison to being burning alive, but nonetheless nightmares they were. They also passed, and back you were in nothingness. Drifting under the surface that you couldn’t break through.

You had not died, had you? They had kept you alive. They still were. It must’ve been Hashirama. Maybe Tobirama had been there, too.

It was so tiring to think of all this.

The darkness began to stretch. You still were suspended in it, held down - bound somehow - but the nightmares didn’t return. Instead a different kind of sensation set in: itches. Everywhere. Inside, outside - wherever that was, anymore. A headache, maybe? You felt… warm. It became uncomfortable quickly, but nowhere near the sensation of withdrawal - which might be because alongside all this came numbness. As though someone had cut the chains of suspension, lowered you down and put a weighted blanket over you. It still was confining, but in a way also a shallow repose.

You were too frightful to trust it.

You didn’t know what was happening anymore.

You just wanted to rest, but the itch and the aches everywhere were keeping you from it. How annoying.

______

His heart beat achingly and there was a tightness in his chest that felt awfully familiar. The only reason he wasn't being crushed again by heartache again was his brother tending to you.

It had been twelve hours since Tobirama and his brother had literally pushed you off of the verge of death. Now, it was time to pay the price for keeping your heart beating and your lungs breathing.

Violent shivers ran through your body, the sheets were drenched from sweat. Hashirama was inspecting ink on the seals that kept supporting you - ensured your heart beat strongly, upped the blood pressure, sustained your organs more than your body would right now. Wordlessly, Tobirama handed him new drenched parchments to replace the dried up ones at the centers of the seals that released the medication they each had been soaked in.

His hand trembled slightly. "The severity-"

Hashirama cut him short firmly. "Her condition is critical, but stable. All she needs now is time." His brother gazed up at him. “You should rest more, Tobirama.”

His scarlet eyes glared at him, lifting from your pitiful form only momentarily. “I will once Y/n is better.”

It wasn't the first time Tobirama had spoken up. When the true brunt of the overload had started to hit you initially, he nearly panicked - what little peace of mind he had found combusted in an instant and his concern for had him back in a vice grip. His brother on the other hand had not been impressed; he had known it would come to this and his confidence alone had reassured him. Time and again he had told Tobirama it was going to be fine.

All it needed was time.

The man didn’t question his brother, of course - but it wouldn’t easily quench his worries, either. Not when you were lying here, trembling, feverish - whimpering. And he - helpless to do anything but watch. Like before.

He was tired of seeing you teetering on the edge of death with no means of pulling you back. He didn't want to wait anymore for your recovery, he wanted things to start becoming better now. He was tired of being helpless.

He'd spent every waking second by your side until he knew you were well again.

______

More time passed.

Possibly. The blanket didn’t lift. The nightmares - the nightmares didn’t return, either. That surprised you. The circle… the circle was broken, somehow.

Was this death then, after all?

The itch had faded too, slowly - the uncomfortably warm sensation, the aches - it all went away. You were your sweet nothingness, far away from all you had endured, your horrible memories.

No pain.

You could stay here comfortably. If this was death, then you were fine with it. Though you felt one ache still - Tobirama.

He would never forgive himself. If only you could tell him, one last time - that you were alright, that he gave his all. That you loved him and would do so forever.

That sorrow haunted your bliss. And it wouldn’t fade. Quite the contrary - it became stronger and stronger. The stronger it became, the more sensations and thoughts broke through. At first, your mind began to shake off the dark stupor that held it captive until now. Your thoughts became clearer. The process of all you went through - the lack of nightmares now, the breaking of the agonizing routine that previously had governed your life cruelly - it could, should mean one thing. But you didn’t dare to delve into the thought more. Instead, you focused on the sensations that you picked up. Presences. You didn’t feel alone in your darkness anymore. Someone was watching you. You knew them well. Countless times, you’ve traced over his chakra network gently as an inward embrace too tender to put into words.

Tobirama.

He must be doing the same. Occasionally, there was another presence you could identify too, after your mind cleared up more: Hashirama’s.

It made you reel - with excitement. It must mean one thing?

And yet no matter how much you wanted to reach out - you didn’t exactly know how. It wasn��t like you were asleep. Either they put you into this state - or maybe you were too weak? - but every time you tried to shake off the nothingness that had become your comfortable cocoon, you ended up exhausting yourself to a point your mind started to drift away again. Maybe not yet.

You kept on digging your way out bit by bit, every time you felt able to. Senses were returning. At first, there was touch. Perception of yourself - not in the abstract sense, but in an acute way. Your legs, your arms. Your chest. The beating of your heart. Your hand being touched, Tobirama’s chakra warmly hailing and covering your network. At first you simply basked in that sensation. You wanted to return the gesture, but it wasn’t possible - that frightened you, but you didn’t question it. Yet. You just continued to work your way out of this. Every now and then, someone would grasp your jaw to pour a liquid in - the leash, you realised. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t resist it. After touch came hearing. There wasn’t much, really. The birds chirping outside. Conversations between Tobirama and his brother, though you were too tired to follow them, really.

Finally - finally came your eyes. When you opened your eyes again for the first time in who knew how long, your lids felt as heavy as leaden blankets. You almost wanted to close them again directly, figuring the endeavour was just too tiresome.

If it wasn’t for the face by the side of your bed.

His scarlet eyes lit up in a rare streak of excitement. Excitement you could identify as such, at the very least. He suddenly was closer - you realised he must’ve gotten up from his chair to sit by your side - you felt a warm sensation on your hand. His was on it - and already, his chakra moved over your network. That you still had no access to. “Y/n?”, the jitter in his baritone voice was unlike him. Frightened, almost.

You forced yourself out of the proverbial swamp to give him a better look-over. As per usual, his facial markings were painted on perfectly, the black undergarment he wore when neither in battle nor in formal attire was spotless - and his white hair, spiky as per usual.

You realised then, you had thought you never would see his face again.

His brows furrowed and his lips formed a thin, turned-down line. “Y/n?”, he inquired again, now growing more worried. Something wet rolled over your cheek. A sound - you were sobbing.

You really were here, again. With him.

“T-Tobi…”, you croaked out, choking on your own voice. It didn’t sound like you. Raspy, blocked. Withered from not being used. More sobs followed that you had no control over.

Tobirama’s expression grew heartbreakingly sorrowful - his lower lip trembled. He nodded jerkily and extended a hand to cup your cheek gently; wipe at your tears tenderly. Carefully. As if too much pressure might harm you. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then finally - “I’m here.” The jitter was gone from his deep voice. It was reaffirming now.

“I-I t-thought…”, you took a deep breath, working through every word slowly. “... I d-d-died.” The tears continued to roll down your cheeks as Tobirama caressed you.

Now he sounded decidedly pained. Haunted. “You almost did.” In an ironic way, his brutal honesty was reassuring. This really was Tobirama in front of you. “But you’re safe now. You’ll make it, Y/n.” With the determination in his voice, there was no question about that bit.

Suddenly, you felt an urge quell within you so desperately you were overwhelmed to even get the words out properly. You’d have moved on your own to sit up, were it not for the fact just keeping your eyes open was tantamount to running uphill at full speed. But you needed this, now. Badly. Achingly. “H-hold m-me, please,” you stuttered with your rusty voice.

Tobirama hesitated momentarily and stopped his caressing motion on your cheek. He swallowed, indecision clear on his face, “I’m not sure if I should-”

“D-damn it,” you hissed, each second letting your ache for him to be nearer grow more painful. Your sobs came out as wheezing sounds now, increasingly frustrated by the moment that really just lasted so very shortly.

Suddenly his arms wrapped around your chest and his warm face buried itself in the cold crook of your neck, letting you tilt your head to smell his hair. The fresh scent of his - when was the last time you’d smelled it? Whether it was sheer force of will or actually more hidden strength, you willed one of your thin arms to rest on Tobirama’s back that was heaving intensely. He was careful to not put any weight on you except for the contact of your bodies, his chest covering yours - you knew it, but all that mattered was he was here. The sheer purity of the moment snuffing out the ache, the fear - all of the torment and agony of the past days, weeks, whatever it has been.

You simply basked in this as you closed your eyes to feel the connection not just physically, but also from his chakra.

Alive.

You made it.

Although - “My c-chakra,” you whispered questioningly, not bothering to form a full sentence nor break the silence - the serenity - longer than you had to.

Tobirama’s breath came warm against your skin. “Sealed, right now. I’ll open it up-”

He wanted to move. “No,” you replied swiftly, with as much firmness as your weak voice could muster since your body certainly wouldn’t hold anyone back. “Stay.”

Wordlessly, he settled back against you to let the moment continue. Your damn chakra could wait, it would be muted anyway, wouldn’t it?

No matter how long you wanted to stretch this all out, tiredness was beginning to grip you. And despite the fight you put up, you couldn’t help the hand slipping off of Tobirama’s back and your eyes involuntarily closing, every now and then. You hated it. You’ve been away for too long.

Tobirama felt it too, of course. Despite your protest, he pulled back slowly to resume holding your hand gingerly in his. His scarlet eyes had a reddish hue to them now, but his expression was mellow. “You should rest again, Y/n.”

You huffed. “I b-believe I r-rested enough.”

A fine smile formed on his slips and he shook his head. “Not nearly enough, I’m afraid.”

You rolled your eyes in response. “T-tell me f-first. What h-happened.” And your tone left no question about how much you wanted to know, now.

Which Tobirama recognized easily with a sigh. He took a deep breath and his gaze wandered to the ceiling, his deep voice neutral now. You knew what this meant. “We’ve almost run out of leash and it was just through a trick that I learned the final secret to this damn drug. Had it taken any longer, the withdrawal might have killed you. It is thanks to Hashirama’s expertise the chakra overload didn’t, actually.” His effort to keep his voice neutral was failing slightly as the tremble returned to it.

So that was the itch, the ache. Interesting, because for chakra overload - you really hadn’t felt much.

“We managed it the same way we did during the withdrawal,” Tobirama explained, “But the reaction became severe nonetheless. You ran an extremely high fever we had to cool down and it was only due to sedation you weren’t in pain,” his eyes had wandered back to your face, studying it cautiously now. Almost as if he was searching for evidence to the contrary.

You, on the other hand, had to muster all your left energy to process the information and most looked as though you were ready to crash at any given second.

Surprisingly, Tobirama continued his explanation, even though his gaze became more worried. “The seals stabilised you throughout the rest of the overload reaction, which was… intense.” He paused for a moment, his voice having become more quiet. Once more he had to clear his throat before he found his voice again, visibly struggling to find the words and yet speaking clearly nonetheless. “Your condition still became critical. Like said, had it been any other than Hashirama healing you during the last withdrawal, you might have died.”

You exhaled breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Your gaze drifted over your blanketed self as the realisation hit you more and more.

Might have died.

Close. Everything had been so close.

You’d been running from one danger into the next, life being threatened each lasting second, no break in sight.

“Y/n,” Tobirama’s firm voice became more distant as drawing breaths was becoming harder again and you forcefully swallowed down tears. “Y/n,” he called out again, less firm - a hand stroked up your forearm gently.

“I d-don’t,” you began, trying to wrenched the words out past your sobs, “It’s- d-damn it!”, either your voice got stuck or the wheezing breaths made it to hard, but you couldn’t articulate the overwhelming amount of shock that coursed through your veins. At least you thought it was that. More like a conglomerate of shock, existential pain, sorrow and ultimately, despair.

Tobirama watched helplessly as you fell apart more and more, his eyebrows furrowing in a most desperate way. Once more he reached for your face but this time, his palm stroked your hair gently as his lower lip quivered in search for better words. He didn’t have any - most likely because he felt much the same, if you were to guess. Finally though - “You’ll be fine,” his baritone voice but a whisper, “You’re safe now.” Over and over again.

“I’m here for you.”

Although the moment wasn’t filled with serenity, you needed it. You needed to hear it - over and over again, to feel him caressing you, his chakra like a warm blanket on your network.

You survived, that was one thing.

But the danger - the danger was over.

Finally.

Exhale. Relax.

Eventually, the tears stilled and your breath evened out. Exhaustion claimed you fast now, but you wanted to keep gazing at his face. Tobirama’s expression had grown more mellow. He allowed it, for a bit longer. Eventually though - “Rest now, Y/n. I’m not - you’re not going anywhere. Allow me,” he pulled the blanket down your chest.

You still were littered with seals of course, but Tobirama’s fingers had already settled right in the middle of your chest in the center of the intricate chakra seal. A brief glow later, you could access your sluggish, muted chakra again. The comfort in that feeling alone sent you further down into drowsiness.

A pitiful sigh escaped your lips.

He covered you up with the blanket again. You thought you might have heard him again, but you couldn’t make out any words. Already, sleep had claimed you.

______

The next few times you woke didn’t differ much from one another; usually your strength lasted only long enough for you to open your eyes and stay awake for a short period of time before sleep claimed you again. Even so, the intervals began to increase and as they did, so did your strength to move your arms at least. It was frustrating nonetheless - lying flat on your back only was entertaining for so long. The spirit and mind weren’t as broken, worn out and torn as the rest of you, it seemed.

“I think I’ll go crazy at some point,” you huffed lowly. It was evening and the room was drenched in beautiful, reddish hues of the evening sun. “There really is nothing to do.”

Tobirama was sitting in the chair beside your bed, slowly raising up an eyebrow as his lips formed a fine smirk. “If you’re complaining again, then you must be recovering well,” he observed with dry irony, which you could only roll your eyes at. He had kept his promise - being there for you, any waking second. You suspected he knew since he administered the leash to you - and therefore he was well aware when you’d be awake again to talk to. Whenever you opened your eyes, he was there.

It was comforting. You weren’t doing well on your own, right now.

“Honestly Tobi, I want to see you bed-ridden for what - weeks? - you’re the one who quite literally has to be tied down before he’d actually rest, no matter what,” you scoffed back.

In ever so slight amusement, he pursed his lips more. “Don’t talk like you’re better at it, Y/n. I know for a fact were you able to, you’d be getting out and about even when you really, really should not.” The unspoken ‘like you had been’ hung in the air almost tangibly as you stared at him. You’d never hear the end of this.

“The ceiling, this room and its window can only entertain me for so long,” you pouted.

Tobirama’s smile grew more sympathetic. “It’s only going to get better now.”

You sighed. “I know,” you couldn’t prevent frustration leaking into your voice. Then, something occurred to you. “I noticed,” you began slowly, shifting ever so slightly to face him more. “I’m not… having these nightmares anymore, at all. After I’ve taken the leash. In fact…,” a frown formed on your face. “I do not dream at all. Did... did you do something to it?”, frankly you found the question pointless. You know he had to - you’d been getting the leash for an agonizingly long time now, and that definitely had changed.

His smile faded ever so slightly. “I did. During learning how to create the leash itself I realised it doesn’t require the exact psychotropic agents they tortured you with necessarily. Just something to latch onto, if you will. So right now, you’re just getting a light tranquilizer alongside the leash.”

You had to snort then. “I figured. Explains why I feel like crashing every time I’ve taken it.” He nodded solemnly in reply. Then, a smirk formed. “And why I feel so damn hazy all the time.”

Now, he rolled his eyes. “I’d consider it a positive side effect, to be honest.”

“To actually force me to rest?”

He sighed exasperatedly. “Certainly,” his tone was caustic. “Judging by how sharp your tongue has gotten again, I’m sure without the tranquilizing base solution of this leash, you’d be moving way too much right now.”

Your lips formed a kissing motion. “You love my sharp tongue, though.”

His eyebrows shot up instantly at the suggestiveness of the statement, but he couldn’t deny the chuckle that rumbled in his chest. He was too proud to answer verbally, though. Still, you were sure there was something of a reddish hue around his facial markings.

“Honestly, you should be glad I’m not making an offhanded comment about how my love keeps me tied to this ‘leash’, Tobi.”

“Y/n!”

That instantly let his deep voice rise in volume as it became quite stern. He had crossed his arms in front of his chest. Now, you were definitely sure he had gotten red.

You merely chuckled in reply that Tobirama found difficult to join in, but the proverbially ruffled feathers smoothed out again quickly. It was how you knew he was relieved - making fun at his expense without getting a smart remark in return. In a sense, you were quite glad you were able to again, really.

Besides, you didn’t exactly with the dead, dreamless sleep the tranquilising base of the leash provided. Your brain had been served excellent fodder for nightmares - drugs or no - and you didn’t want to revisit any. Was it an easy way out? Maybe, for a time.

Until you felt ready to tackle… everything again.

Fortunately though, recovery did speed up more and more. Each dose of the leash forced you to sleep it off for a handful of hours after which you felt rather groggy, and clouded of mind - under normal circumstances, you’d start to refuse to take medicine of this kind eventually, but this time you knew it truly must not be delayed. Not that Tobirama didn’t diligently make sure you always were right on time with it - at first he had to help you take it by supporting your chest, neck and head pretty much. By now, you managed to sit up straight already, which was a huge relief. A step closer to leaving this bed. Your muscles still groaned and ached from wounds you had suffered what seemed eons ago, on top of the general soreness you still felt due to damages you had taken during the withdrawal.

“Shouldn’t these have healed by now?”, you complained as you once more had settled against the headboard of the bed, letting out a low groan.

Tobirama withdrew after having helped you up there with his hands under your shoulders. He had refused to at first - you needed to rest still of course - but you threatened to just do it yourself if he wouldn’t. With gritted teeth he had pretty much hefted you up, under the premise you wouldn’t push yourself. The pain you felt now made him look like he was ready to yank you back down if you did so much as whimper again.

“Normally, they would have,” he explained sternly, his scarlet gaze inspecting you. “But without one’s own innate chakra reserves and your poor condition overall, it is unsurprising they did not heal well. Plus, you suffered again during the withdrawal.”

You sighed and opted to refrain from showing any more signs of pain or weakness. It made sense, of course. “Just my luck,” you muttered under your breath.

He had settled back into his chair and crossed his arms. “We will be able to start healing you again very soon, Y/n,” he supplied slowly. “We’ve already started to remove the seals that sustained you and increase your capacity to receive chakra again.”

That had been a relief - seeing the ink wiped off of your skin as a visual reminder things were, in fact, getting better. The biggest of them being the chakra seal on your chest. Not that you had been afraid of it - but as a person that naturally was very in tune with your own chakra as everyone in your clan was, it had felt… looming. The muting component of the leash was bad enough, but by now, you had gotten used to it. The fact you were in a safe environment helped a much greater deal, though. Still - “How… how’s work on the cure coming along, Tobi?”, you inquired suddenly, sheepishly, almost.

He leaned forward on the chair and exhaled a heavy breath. “Slow, but… steady.” He gazed up at your eyes with a solemn expression, neither sugarcoating the facts nor being overly harsh about it. “It’s possibly going to be as complex as the leash. But I’ll get there.” You wouldn’t question his determination. “We have time.” That probably was about the only advantage to all of this right now.

A smile formed on your lips. “Thank you.”

You beckoned him closer with a wave of your hand which he followed hesitantly by settling down on the side of your bed and a questioning glance. Your hand snuck around the back of his neck to pull him closer to you, your fingers lacing into his short hair as his forehead rested against yours. You felt the tension in his shoulders as your free hand trailed up them to cup his face, but his eyes closed slowly and he exhaled a gruff breath. His chakra coated your network warmly already as you tried to return the notion as best you could, which wasn’t much. He simply sighed in return and allowed you to caress him for a silent moment.

Offering a small bit of comfort when really, it was him who poured all his energy into aiding you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips with such tenderness you felt his chakra flutter.

He swallowed before answering. “I love you too,” he coarsely answered, rough from emotion as one of his hands reached around your chest again to pull you even closer.

You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had shared an intimate moment like this - and you knew well how he felt about them in a semi public place like this one.

The fact he relatively willingly permitted it was quite saying something.

The fact he actively pulled you even closer did so even more.

Slowly your lips ghosted over his in the utmost tender motion, gasping slightly when he met them with equal softness of his own.

Just a few more moments you allowed yourself this, you wanted to keep him as close as possible right now - before pulling back ever so slightly. When he opened his eyes again, his scarlet gaze was on fire. You didn’t need words to know what he felt. Once more your thumb gently stroked his cheekbone before you leaned back against the headboard again and he withdrew, ending the chakra connection with a final warm caress over your network.

Another day later, you had shedded the last of the seals that had been sustaining you. Hashirama examined you after and was quite pleased, even. Finally, you were on your own again, in a sense. It was a freeing sensation albeit one that came with a tinge of fear. You still weren’t cured yet and had precious little time in which you didn’t sleep off Tobirama’s version of the leash. After you inquired exactly what kind of tranquilizing agent he had used, your considerations as to why your sleep was so dead and dreamless were confirmed: it didn’t just endorse rest, it muted all kinds of emotions, good and bad. It was numbing.

You still weren’t sure how to feel about that - on the one hand, it felt too easy to escape from memories you did not want to deal with that definitely had been haunting you before the withdrawal cracked you. On the other hand, you just weren’t ready to deal with more, now. What you did know for certain was that Tobirama had put consideration in picking the tranquilizer as the base for the leash.

Like right now, when you were fighting against the haze in your mind and the heavy fog that tried to push you back into sleep. You had slept enough. You simply wanted to be awake for now. With a low groan you lifted yourself up to sit in the bed, ignoring the aches flaring in your arms, back and abdomen. Momentarily, your vision blackened, but you stabilised yourself swiftly with your arms on each side.

You must’ve pulled it off earlier, since Tobirama was not here yet - either that, or something happened. Your thoughts were too muddled to consider it more. Dazedly, you started at the window that let the morning sun in while trying to form another thought.

_______

Tobirama’s days had settled into a routine that pretty much was dictated by your waking hours. Without death breathing down your neck and the constant feeling of a looming heart attack, there was little to put the man off, really. As expected, your recovery would be slow and arduous, but you’d make it. He’d be there for you throughout every bit of it as he promised, and he was very intent on keeping this promise. With the modification to the leash, you were resting a lot better too, which in turn improved Tobirama’s sleep. After he had administered the first dosage of the leash with the tranquilising base solution and you had drifted off, he himself had slept for a good fourteen hours.

It had been one of the hardest battles of his life.

Not that he allowed himself any complacency, though. In fact the word barely existed in his vocabulary, but especially so right now - you still needed the cure for this leash.

Unfortunately, developing one proved to be a lot slower than copying the leash. And this was not because your life did not hang in the balance anymore - it was because Tobirama had no testing modality outside of the six prisoners whose lives, alas, still needed to be preserved carefully. And with your life saved, the necessary precautions for experimentation had risen an annoying lot. Except for Kimi, who had been tethered to Tobirama’s very own leash, he had put them all under Zenji’s leash and instructed the interrogation squad’s members on administration intervals and the likes of the drug. All he had to do was produce the thing in a large quantity, which by now had become a well-practiced process.

Zenji in particular had a slew of colorful insults ready for Tobirama, including himself, his brother, his family, his whole clan, Konoha - and yet it was with a sly smirk Tobirama’s iron grip on his jaw silenced him, wrestled his mouth open and poured the leash in.

“Now you can experience your own masterful work firsthand. It’s poetic, really,” he commented cynically, watching Zenji’s pupils dilate already.

“There’s no… cure… for the leash,” the man slurred hatefully, grunting in pain.

Tobirama’s smirk grew and he raised both eyebrows. “You made predictions about the possibility and impossibility of things before, and yet here we are Zenji,” he leaned in closer. “With your help, no less.”

The prisoner’s unfocused gaze looked for Tobirama’s arrogant face, but the psychotropic agents were overcoming him more and more.

“Now you’ll be of equal use again.”

He didn’t stick around for the torture anymore; there was no need. What he needed were these six as outlets for his experiments on a cure. Since the muting component faded, it came down to breaking the seal of the disrupting component somehow. However there was no trace of the seal as such once the drug was ingested - only in the way the disruption was branding itself into the victim’s body. Of course Tobirama well understood how the seal as such worked, but that meant he also understood countering it was a difficult task exactly because of that. Quickly it became obvious he needed more than just to unravel the disruption’s brand; whatever achieved this needed to be woven into the cure much like the leash was created. It would need to be a key that would unlock the chains of the leash.

He was lucky to have such skill in the weaving process as such, by now.

His first experiments were rather edgy. The substances used were primitive in comparison to the leash and aggravated the prisoner’s health to such a degree in one case, Tobirama was forced to provide extended medical support. Ikuro was squinting a lot at the proceedings, although everyone understood there was no alternative.

What time he didn’t spend experimenting or in the laboratory was spent within your room - when you were awake, or at least trying to be awake. Exhaustion and the tranquilizer both sapped consciousness from you a fair deal, but as your strength returned to you slowly, so did your capacity to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a given time. It was the hugest relief - to see you becoming yourself again, truly. Your smile, your laugh, the quips you made - the smart glint in your eyes.

The way you started to refuse to rest.

Of course you had quickly guessed it was no coincidence he has used this particular tranquilizer as base for the leash. But the reason was not to keep you literally too knocked out to move about.

The scars you bore were not just physical, inward and outward. There was a lot of mental damage that Tobirama had gathered enough clues towards already before you had hatched your withdrawal plan. This substance - this substance might be an easy crutch for now, but he refused to let you carry more weight than you had to right now. It was a selfish decision he made for you, he knew that.

Since you never protested, he figured you were in silent agreement, for now.

After the last of the seals were removed from you, it was time for the next step in your recovery, which he had discussed with his brother at length already, before you’d wake regularly. Once you were stable - and had not received any chakra for quite some time - they could finally start healing you properly again.

“It’ll be complicated,” Hashirama warned. “The withdrawal has damaged the functionality of her organs. The injuries she received during her imprisonment are not the ones I’m not worried about.”

Tobirama wasn’t, either. Those were simple in comparison. The withdrawal had wrecked you from the inside out - alongside your body’s reaction to it. He frowned. “You assume we may not heal everything?”

Hashirama clicked his tongue. “I’ve learned not to make any assumptions when it comes to this drug, to be quite honest,” he muttered in a rare streak of bleak irony.

Tobirama could only huff in response.

They’d have to give it their best. If there was anyone who could do it, it was his brother, after all.

Today was the day - after his brother’s evaluation of your state yesterday, they’d start to mend the real damage today. Both were on the way to your room. It was still early in the morning and Tobirama couldn’t deny having sound sleep at night was quite a blessing after the nightmare he and you had suffered. Even so, you should be asleep still at this time.

He opened the door to your room silently - only to find you sitting in bed already, staring out of the window. He spoke before his mind could even process the angered worry that filled him. “Y/n,” his tone firmly questioning - for now.

_______

Your head snapped around to your new company, startled. The look on Tobirama’s face was one you knew well - he’d start scolding you any moment now with how deeply he was frowning already. Hashirama on the other hand, bright as ever - broadly smiling. How these two were brothers, you sometimes really had to wonder about.

“Tobirama, Hashirama,” you nodded, smirking. The urge to just sleep again had subsided somewhat, though your mind still was foggy. Sitting up was an exercise on its own, still, not to mention the pain you felt.

“Why are you awake already?”, Tobirama shot back instantly, rounding the bed swiftly. You’d like to think there was worry attached to the sternness of his tone. “Did something happen?”

You sighed softly and smiled. “No, don’t worry. I just didn’t want to sleep any more, that’s all. I’m much the same I was before.” You really refused to say you were fine. Someone who couldn’t sit up for longer periods of time without pain was not fine.

Tobirama stayed silent, but his scarlet gaze was inspecting you closely. You rolled your eyes and lowered yourself back onto the bed before he’d tell you to, unable to prevent a quiet groan from escaping you.

“Careful,” he stepped closer instantly as worry flashed in his eyes, but you waved him off quickly.

Hashirama cleared his throat then and stepped closer to the other side of the bed, practically beaming now. You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll start mending your injuries again today, Y/n,” he announced with no small amount of pleasure.

Your eyes widened. That would be a huge relief - literally and proverbially. However, you were hesitant to feel hopeful just yet. Frankly most of your mental power went towards processing the announcement still. “How much of them?”, you inquired, when you found you couldn’t come up with a smarter way to articulate your budding worry over the resilient hope that formed.

Tobirama answered solemnly. “You’ve not received chakra in quite a bit now, so there is some capacity to work with. But the damage you suffered was very extensive and will require multiple sessions, most likely.” His voice had become softer, though you focused on the information mostly.

“I will start with the most vital damages,” Hashirama continued, “Seeing how the wounds you received from the stone have begun healing on their own by now, albeit slow. I know they’re most painful, but we must ensure you first recover truly from inside out. Bones, muscles and skin come second.”

You had to give a snort at that, earning you a puzzled look from Hashirama and a raised eyebrow from his brother. “Apologies,” you amended quickly, “I understand. It’d just be nice to move without pain again. Or at all, and not just lie still.”

Tobirama cut in sternly, quickly. “You mustn’t, yet. Healing anything is only going to help if you don’t squander it by pushing yourself too much too fast, Y/n. You know that.” The warning in his tone was clear. And you knew he was right - one of the most basic principles of all medical jutsu - like surgical sutures, they needed time to kick in fully.

Hashirama was more accommodating. “I can ease it somewhat, of course.”

Tobirama’s glance shot towards his brother. “It’s vital to focus on the most important injuries.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s get started.”

You couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up while you rolled up your gown. Hashirama’s warm hands gently placed themselves on your abdomen, and already you felt his chakra spreading in your network, his presence becoming more prominent. Your eyes locked with Tobirama’s who had crossed his arms again, giving you a tender smile that you returned; a different kind of warmth blossoming in your chest. Then, you let your head rest on the pillow and stared at the ceiling before closing your eyes as his brother’s work was unfolding.

Just like when Tobirama had healed you before, the procedure became something of an internal massage of all the parts of you that had been tortured, abused, beaten. Suffered under the withdrawal of the leash, withered and strained. Without your own chakra at your disposal, it was extremely difficult to trail alongside them, but frankly the thoroughly comfortable feeling that settled in was quick to make your eyelids leaden again.

Very carefully, he first tended to your heart and lungs first - strengthening attacked tissue, mending microscopic damages and if needed, precisely cutting away whatever scars your body already had formed to let real organ matter regrow there. Whether it was your imagination or not you couldn't say, but you thought your breaths became deeper and your heartbeat slowed down into a more powerful rhythm. His attention shifted to other organs then: liver, kidney, the gut - and much in the same manner, they tended diligently to the damages.

A stray tear of relief ran down your cheek as shivers ran up and down your spine.

Finally came the injuries inflicted by the torture - process here was more difficult. The gentle, healing massage took on a more forceful note, as though he had to work out kinks in stiff muscle that had not been used much. Almost pinching here and there when even your tardish chakra felt the tear of inferior scar tissue that had formed due to a lack of attention and use. You felt the old wounds warm up ever so slightly, promoting blood flow as well as making the matter more receptive to his care, although the time he spent healing here was notably shorter compared to what they had done before.

It was uncomfortable - not the smooth procedure from before but the quite literal rebuild of what you knew was broken and had been healed broken. Every now and then you’d huff or grunt when the unpleasant sensation bordered pain, but you kept yourself in check - Tobirama was still watching, and you didn’t want him to worry again.

Eventually, Hashirama withdrew as quietly as he’d begun.

You had difficulty opening your eyes again. All of you felt warm now, refreshed - revitalised. The sleep that wanted to overcome you now wasn't the heavy exhaustion you permanently felt, it was pure comfort. It was the same feeling you had after visiting a hot spring after a day of training. The feeling of the sun on your skin on a rare lazy day, a peaceful day.

Peaceful. That was how you felt.

Hashirama was beaming at you, but Tobirama was wearing a slight frown again. “Are you alright?” - the discomfort hadn’t escaped his notice, of course.

You cleared your throat, swallowing down a hoarse lump. “Yeah,” nodding slowly. “Better than before,” you dared a brave smile.

His frown deepened, but he didn’t comment further. In the end, this was necessary - like many other things had been - and so, he’d accept it. He - you - had no other choice.

Hashirama cleared his throat. "I managed to heal quite a bit, more than I expected, in fact. Of course there still is work to be done, but the damages the withdrawal created I believe I will be able to manage with time and patience.” He gave you an appreciative nod. “You're a tough woman." He chuckled brightly.

Tobirama’s mien grew more tender as his frown smoothed out, a light smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

It was difficult not to get intoxicated by his optimism, especially when you felt the way you did now. "Thank you."

"The next session will have to wait since I used an extensive amount of chakra now. And as for the injuries you suffered…" Hashirama knit his brows. "... those will require more work. Your body started to mend those already. Unfortunately in inferior ways, due to your poor condition."

You gave an awkward shrug, as much as that was possible in bed. "I felt that, yeah."

Tobirama's frown returned somewhat again, but he didn't comment.

Before either of them spoke again, you did - with an idea that had hit you just this moment. Something that jolted through your system more uncomfortably than the hope had done before, despite being much the same feeling. "So, since I need to rest so much now…", you gave Tobirama a meaningful gaze he held entirely neutrally, "... couldn't I actually -" You paused. Suddenly, you felt silly, but with the expectant glances on you, you swallowed it down and continued. "Could I perhaps rest at home? I'm stable now, and this room is starting to drive me insane."

Tobirama sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, hands gripping the fabric of his black shirt more tightly as he spoke up promptly. "Y/n, as much as I'd like to grant you this, we must consider-"

"Absolutely. I'll stop by to help to heal you again." Hashirama cut in, grinning broadly.

Tobirama's mien turned positively furious at being blindsided by his sibling. "Anjia!"

Hashirama was unfazed. "Patients recover better in homely environments. Y/n is stable, like she said - you saw it yourself, Tobirama. Also, you can ensure even better that she rests well."

"That-", he clenched his teeth at having this argument used against him, but just a moment later, the heated fury had subsided to a smoldering kind of anger that gave his sternness a cutting edge. "She still is in poor condition and should be hospitalised. If anything changes, here is where the aid needed will be."

Hashirama held both palms up and tilted his head. You, on the other hand, were rolling your eyes and waiting for your moment to chime into this conversation. About your own damn self. "I don't see what should happen. So long as the leash is administered on time - which you have been doing - and she rests properly, she's going to get better now."

Tobirama was losing ground and worse yet, he realised this. To his own brother no less. He bared his teeth slightly. "I can't be there every moment in case she needs help. And I won't allow just anyone into our house."

Now was your chance. "Actually, you can." Tobirama's head snapped to you and the furious gaze bored through you. You didn't flinch though. "You can just leave a shadow clone with me. If I need help, you can teleport over. But as you know," now you raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "I'm mostly sleeping and resting."

Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose as he often would when frustrated. "Y/n…", he began slowly, but you didn't let him start.

"You're with me so much anyway. I'd feel a lot better at home. And you can work there, too. It's easier for everyone."

His expression grew more mellow and his hand dropped as his irritated mien fell. Your pleading glance did the rest. "Fine. But if anything - anything at all - happens, I'll get you back here right away. No discussion." Then he frowned again and any trace of mellowness was wiped off of his face. "The same goes for you not sticking to your bed rest."

You grinned brightly already. "Naturally." You'd find your way around once you could move more again, of course.

Hashirama clapped his hands then cheerfully. "Right then!", he beamed at his brother who just gave a scowl in return. "I'll see you soon. Mito and I will visit, anyway. Until then," he waved, and already was on his way out before you could raise your hand to wave back.

Tobirama sighed. "Regular visits are just another downside," he stated perfectly blearily.

You chuckled. "Cheer up. We'll have a lot more privacy. And…" you paused for a moment, fumbling with the blanket draped over you. "Finally, no more lonely nights."

He turned around to you, eyebrows knitted in a sorrowful fashion that told of the shared statement more than words could. Still, "That… is correct." He stepped closer to the bedside, an utterly warm smile forming now. "It's been a forlorn and cold place without you, Y/n. I’m... beyond relieved that will change now."

With all of the comfortable peacefulness you felt from the healing procedure still, that statement alone made your eyes tear up already in a most soft way. "So am I, Tobirama."

He bent down then and reached under your haggard body with his arms; one gripping your chest tightly, the other wrapping under yours knees. Bridal-style he hefted you up easily - unsurprisingly. Even before your capture he could handle you well. Now your weight was a joke. Closely cradled against his chest, you let your head rest against him with a content sigh. His warm breath hit your face as he bent over briefly to kiss your forehead gently, making you shift your gaze to meet his. The scarlet irises were swimming with a kind of love that alone made your renewed heart pump vigorously.

Already the world around you lurched and a moment later, you were in your bedroom. Your tired gaze found it to be exactly the same it had been before your departure on that fateful mission - one that most likely changed your life forever, you realised. Sparsely furnitured, but practical. A large bed in the middle of the room, adjourning the wall - and broad windows on two walls, overlooking your small garden.

“Welcome home,” Tobirama whispered down to you, a slight tremor to his baritone voice.

“I’m glad,” was all you managed before yet another pure tear rolled down your cheek.

Slowly, he walked to your side of the bed to settle you down as gently as possible. The softness of your own sheets, your own bed elicited a small groan from you and you couldn’t help but bask in the moment with a content mien. “At times, I thought I’d never be here again.”

Tobirama swallowed hard, and when you gazed up at him you saw his jaw working. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/n.” The sheer determination these words bore had the warm feeling blossoming in your chest again, but you could only nod in reply. And words might be a sob right now.

“I’ll get you different clothes.”

“No, wait,” you shook your head. He paused mid-walk, having already made for the wardrobe, to give you a questioning glance.

“Come here.” You patted his side of the bed, and nodded.

He quirked an eyebrow up. “Y/n, it’s morning.” Of course, only Tobirama Senju would object to getting into bed again just because of the time of day.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to crash any minute now anyway, so you might as well come here now. I can change later.”

With a wondering glance still he slipped to his side of the bed, scooting closer to you as you wrestled yourself to lie on the side. Once he was close enough he assisted in pulling you over, but you weren’t done yet - your arms snuck around his chest and wordlessly, he drew you close to him in a tight embrace. You nestled your face into his chest again as he locked his arms around his, letting his head rest on yours and your legs intertwined. In this position, you could hear his slow, even heartbeat. The steady rhythm was enough to elicit a whole different kind of serenity from you that doubled the warm, comfortable tiredness you felt, but you weren’t quite done yet. Just a moment longer.

Tobirama’s hands ran soothing motions over your back. Yours did the same, feeling the tension ease out of his muscles with each passing second as your caresses drew a content rumble from him.

“Not such a bad idea, was it?”, you giggled quietly.

Tobirama huffed. “How will I get out once you’re asleep without waking you, Y/n?”, he accused playfully, but you could hear the smile from his tone alone.

“You’ll find a way. After all, it’s most important I rest .” You jabbed playfully at his side - just about the only spot Tobirama might be the slightest bit ticklish.

He shrugged it off with a chuckle. “You are absolutely correct. I will.” He tightened the embrace somewhat more, a hand reaching up to the base of your neck to massage your scalp. “So, sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.”

With your eyes closed now, it was a matter of seconds until sleep overtook you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

A wholesome kind of rest wrapped around you, drowning all sensations out in the comfort of Tobirama’s arms.

You were home. _________ AAAAAAND! That’s a wrap on the Leash. Let me know what you thought of it - and let me just say THANK YOU VERY VERY MUCH for reading it all! I definitely, really, REALLY loved seeing the returning likes/reblogs for all these parts - thanks a lot! That being said - IT WOULD SEEM... Tobirama hasn’t found the cure yet, has he?! Which means... yes! I’ll write a sequel - it won’t be as big as the Leash at all. Possibly an epilogue or a little miniseries dealing with the consequences of all this - but it’ll get a wrap, eventually!

But! Happy ending <33

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 13

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Explain again why you’re doing this to yourself, Mulder?” Byers asks with a pained look of concern.

He’s sifting through his closet, deciding what would be appropriately friendly for his outing with Scully. What kind of outfit says “I have no intention of trying to seduce you,” but also doesn’t leave him looking unworthy of seduction?

“I wish I knew, Byers,” he says as he pulls out his Greys jersey. Sports attire is very casual, but Val had once told him that he was devastatingly sexy in this jersey, so he tugs it off the hanger and puts it on over his white T-shirt. “I guess the idea of never seeing her again is even worse than being around her and knowing we’ll never be more than friends.”

Byers shakes his head slowly. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Mulder. Are you sure you aren’t secretly holding out hope that you can steal her away?”

Mulder buttons up the jersey and considers the question, his mouth quirked to the side. “I mean, I’m not actively trying to do anything, she’s way too smart for that and she’d see right through it. But the hope is there, sure.”

Byers nods sadly. “Well, good luck. Here are the keys, by the way.” He pulls a small key ring from his pocket and hands it to Mulder, who deposits it into his jeans pocket.

“Thanks, Byers, I appreciate the favor. I owe you one,” he says, clapping the man on the back.

After Byers is gone he brushes his teeth, considers and then decides against pounding a beer to calm his nerves, then says goodbye to Priscilla and heads to the Hoover building.

Scully is early, leaning against the passenger side door of her car when he pulls into the lot. He lets out a pained moan when he sees her, clad in flared jeans and a peasant-style flowered top that is cinched under her breasts. While he knows that realistically no human is perfect, Scully is about as close as it gets. He tries not to imagine what she’s got on under there, lest he embarrass himself.

He pulls up beside her and she opens the door, smiling at him shyly as she lowers herself into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” she says, and just the greeting makes his heart ache.

“Hey,” he returns with what he hopes is a casual, friendly smile. Do not leer at her. Do not gaze. He’s been giving himself frequent reminders.

“So, what do you have planned?” she asks as she pulls the seatbelt across her lap.

Mulder smirks in reply, backing out of the lot. “All in good time,” he says, and she gives him an appraising look.

“I’m not even sure why I’m instilling so much trust in you here, Mulder. Don’t push it,” she says with a playful tone, though it’s clear there’s some truth to the statement.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you the preliminary details,” He acquiesces. “First we’re going to The Queen Vic, which has the best fish and chips in DC, in my humble opinion. Have you been there?”

She shakes her head.

“Perfect. Then we’ll head down to the wharf and get some ice cream.” He suddenly wonders if he’s made incorrect assumptions about what she likes, and casts her a concerned glance at a stoplight. “Do you like ice cream?”

She looks at him like he has three heads. “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

He feels a little wave of relief. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who doesn’t like ice cream,” he replies, “but frankly, whoever they are, I have no interest in knowing them.”

She chuckles and there it is again, that ache in his chest. He wonders if it will fade over time.

The Queen Vic isn’t very busy just yet, given that they’re having an early dinner. They are seated at a small, dimly lit booth and each order a beer, fish and chips. Scully opts for an IPA and he feels a retroactive flush of embarrassment at the beer he served her, now knowing what her tastes are. She’s looking around, taking in the ambiance and British paraphernalia papering the walls, and he is looking at her. The cut of her top reveals the soft swell of her breasts, pale and inviting. Even her neck is beautiful, smooth and long and god, he wants to kiss it. Has he ever been taken with someone’s jawline before? Well he has now. Devastatingly beautiful, she is. Ache. Ache. Ache.

She’s looking at him now, and he smiles guiltily, having been caught. Fuck. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. She bites her lip and fiddles with the salt shaker as though she’s not entirely sure what function it serves. What would a friend do? What would a friend ask? He needs to act like a friend, if he wants to be one.

“So, how’s wedding planning going?” he asks, the words feeling sour in his mouth.

She gives him a quizzical expression. “It’s okay. Fine, I guess.”

He nods. “And how’s Ethan?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um...fine. He’s fine. Mulder...why are you asking me about that? About the wedding, and Ethan?”

He dips his chin a bit, giving the pepper shaker a similar assessment. “I guess I just figured if we’re friends, a friend would ask about things like that?” He chances a glance at her and her expression is sympathetic, perhaps even pitying.

“You don’t need to do that, Mulder. We don’t have to talk about my relationship to be friends.” She’s running her finger over the condensation on the side of her glass, and he finds it disturbingly arousing.

“Fair enough, how’s work? Is that a better topic?” He is rewarded with a smile. My god that smile. She could melt permafrost with that smile.

“Work is great, no complaints,” she says coolly, an apparently genuine answer.

They drink, and eat, and talk. They talk about why she loves teaching, and how she got into pathology. He shares a bit about his methods for starting and then adjusting a criminal profile. They talk about med school, and his time at Oxford. He tells her about Phoebe and she admits a proclivity towards dating older men, with the exception of Ethan. It is so easy between them, and so right. He wants to scoop her up and steal her away in his car. Take her to a faraway place where there is no Ethan, where they can see this thing through. He notices how she often tries to hide her smiles, and the major role her eyebrows play in her facial expressions. She has a little mole above her lip that she’s attempted to cover with makeup, and her fingernails are perfectly manicured, like she has them professionally done. He wonders if she has tattoos, or piercings. If her bellybutton is an innie or an outie. If she prefers breakfast or dinner. If she likes morning sex. If she trims her pubic hair or takes it all off. He wants to know her, every bit. But he can’t. He never will. It hurts to think about it.

He drives them down to the wharf and they get ice cream cones from a stand near the water; she picks cookies and cream and he opts for rocky road. The evening is warm but not uncomfortable, the sun holding steady as it makes its descent towards the horizon. These are the dog days of summer, the daylight stretching well into the evening. No cover of darkness for a lover’s confession, not that he has any business making one. Friends meeting in daylight, above board. Never anything more.

They walk along the boardwalk, continuing their conversation between sweet licks, and he avoids watching her, but not entirely successfully. He must have been putting too much effort towards not staring and too little towards rotating his cone, because suddenly his ice cream flops over the side of its perch and lands on the ground with an audible smack.

He stops walking and stares at the now empty cone in his hand for a beat, and then he hears her giggling. When he looks over to her, she has her hand firmly planted over her mouth while she struggles to contain her laughter, the titters shaking her shoulders gently. The resulting swell of affection is overwhelming.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he says dryly, and she works even harder to stop laughing, her face contorting into a grimace as tears pool in her eyes, shaking her head as though she could possibly deny her amusement.

He chucks his cone into a nearby trash can, then approaches her.

“Looks like you’ll have to share yours with me,” he says, moving his hand as though to take her ice cream, and she pulls it away with an open-mouthed expression of shock.

“Get out of here, it’s not my fault you licked yours right off the cone,” she says, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

“Come on, Scully, friends share, don’t they?” he teases, maneuvering around to where she’s moved her arm, swiping at it playfully.

“Mulder, knock it off,” she replies, still smiling, and they are now moving in circles, him towards her ice cream while she artfully moves it out of his grasp.

Suddenly he swoops behind her, his long arms circling her waist and pulling her flush against him, pinning her stationary while he wraps his hand around her wrist and brings her ice cream cone to his own mouth. She shrieks in protest as he steals a big bite, and once he’s accomplished his goal, he becomes aware of their proximity. The feel of her pressed against him, the taper of her waist under his forearm, the smell of her shampoo in his nose. He grips her tighter, ever so briefly, but then releases her suddenly. He has no right. He crossed a line. She steps forward slowly, turning to look at him with pink cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, his arms dropping to his sides, woefully empty. Missing her already.

She shakes her head gently. “It’s okay,” she says, and they continue walking.

As they approach his car, the sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon. It’s nearly 8:30.

“This was really fun, Mulder, thank you,” she says with a shy smile, and he grins at the affirmation.

“There is one more thing I had planned, Scully, unless you have to get home right away,” he says cautiously, and she regards him with surprise, but not unpleasantly so.

“I don’t know, let me call my mother and see if I can stay out past curfew,” she jokes, but then adds “I suppose I’m curious to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Great, let’s go,” he replies as he opens the car door for her.

———

She watches streetlights racing past as Mulder drives them to their final destination and feels a swell of guilt for how wonderful this night has been, then tries to talk herself out of it. She’s done nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate. She’s allowed to have dinner and ice cream with a man who is not her fiancé; he doesn’t own her. Given, the moment with the ice cream cone was a bit more flirtatious than might be ideal, but they were caught up in the moment. She tries not to remember the feel of his compact body pushed against her back, the strength of his arm around her waist. Tries not to imagine how it would feel to have him hold her like that without their clothes on. She closes her eyes and swallows.

They pull up in front of a darkened sports complex and she turns to look at him, questions communicated through her eyes.

“You don’t have something more worthwhile to do right now than slap a horsehide with a stick do ya, Scully?” he says with a smirk.

Her eyebrows lift. “Perhaps not, Mulder, but it looks like they’re closed.”

“A mere technicality,” he replies as he parks right in front of the main entrance, not even in a parking spot.

They approach the doors and he produces a set of keys from his pocket, holding the door open for her before he locks it behind them. There are security lights faintly illuminating the shuttered games and concessions, and she startles a little when she feels him slip his hand into hers, pulling her towards a hallway. His hand is broad and slightly callused, and she unconsciously threads her fingers through his. He glances at her, a slight cast of surprise in his features, but doesn’t say anything.

When they reach a large room, he flips on the lights and she sees rows of batting cages, five or six lined up on either side of a walkway down the middle.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” she asks him suspiciously, and he shrugs.

“The cops aren’t going to roll up or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says as he gathers a bucket of balls and two bats. “Even if they did, a couple FBI badges should send them off right quick.” He winks at her and she feels a flutter in her belly.

He motions for her to follow him to one of the cages, and she waits nervously while he loads the pitching machine and turns it on. When he turns around, he sees her trepidation and smiles warmly at her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he says reassuringly, and she forces her mouth into a tight smile.

He directs her to stand just outside the cage and demonstrates for her how the pitching machine works, talking her through his stance and movements for seven or eight pitches. He hits every single one, sending the ball crashing into the back wall with a padded smack, and she has the unsettling feeling that she’s about to embarrass herself.

“Alright, batter up!” he says, handing her the bat and sending her in.

She gives him a doubtful look.

“It’s easy, you’ll get the hang of it,” he encourages her, then shows her where to stand before he steps out and starts the pitching machine.

When the first pitch sails by, she winces and lets out a little squeak, but doesn’t swing. She can hear Mulder chuckle a little, but waits for the next one. When it comes, she swings way too early, and it flies past her head and bounces off the back wall. Three or four complete misses later, she looks at him woefully.

“I’m terrible at this, Mulder,” she whines.

He shakes his head and smiles at her.

“You just need some minor adjustments,” he offers, then comes inside the cage. He steps up close behind her and she startles a little at the contact.

“Sorry, is this okay? It’s the best way to show you,” he offers, and she nods, the back of her head brushing against his shoulder with the movement. He’s just showing her how to hit a stupid baseball. It’s the least romantic thing on earth, as far as she’s concerned.

He steps close again, wrapping his arms around hers as the length of his torso presses firmly against hers from her shoulder blades right down to her ass. She can feel his breath hot on her ear as he speaks.

“Now don’t strangle the bat, Scully, just shake hands with it,” he says as their palms brush over one another, vying for real estate. “We want to go hips before hands,” he continues, “stride forward, and then turn.” He motions with a hand in front of her towards the pitching machine, and she nods in confirmation. “It’s hips,” he places an open palm against her hip bone and physically turns her torso. She feels a rush between her thighs. “Before hands,” he replaces his hand on the bat and guides them through a mock swing.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath.

“Again, that’s hips,” there his palm is again, hot and firm and pressing into her flesh as he tilts her pelvis forcibly, “before hands. What is it?”

“Um, hips before hands,” she says breathily, resisting an overwhelming urge to press her ass back harder into his lap, to slip that hand beneath the waistband of her jeans so she can feel it on her bare skin. She has a vision of her riding him on the floor as the pitching machine flings balls aimlessly against the back wall, no one caring enough to hit them. She shivers.

“We’re gonna wait on the pitch, keep our eye on the ball, and then we’re just gonna make contact. We’re not gonna think, we’re just gonna let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Okay,” she says shakily, her heart thrumming in her chest.

They take several swings, the bat making contact with the ball with a sharp crack. Mulder is murmuring in her ear about letting your mind go blank and forgetting about all your worries, but she’s too distracted by the heat of his body and the smell of his aftershave to hear him. If not for the risk of getting pelted by a ball, she just might turn in his arms, push him up against the wire-fence walls of this batting cage, and show him how she prefers to handle bats and balls.

The grip of his hands over hers on the bat pinches the skin around her engagement ring and she jerks. Mulder steps away from her a bit.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods.

“Um, maybe I should try by myself now. Thanks for showing me,” she says without looking at him, and he steps back into the walkway to watch her. She hits the next three balls, then turns to smile at him victoriously. The pain and longing in his expression makes her heart sink.

After shutting the place down, they drive back to the Hoover building in relative silence, tension hanging thick between them like a curtain. He puts the car in park and gets out, walking her to the door of her own car, which strikes her as unnecessary. She stands by the open door, sensing that there’s something he wants to say.

“Scully….” he stops and shakes his head gently, talking himself out of it.

“What?” she asks, desperately wanting to know what he was going to say.

He clenches his jaw, fighting an inner battle.

“Scully, I know I shouldn’t say this to you. I know that you’re...with someone. I just-” he purses his lips, then closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, his eyes are so full of emotion it makes her breath catch in her chest. “I think about you all the time. Every second of every day.”

“Oh,” she responds lamely. There’s that urge again, the one she has to resist. “You seem like the kind of guy that believes in reincarnation, Mulder,” she says softly.

He gives her a quizzical look. “I don’t NOT believe in it,” he offers.

She smiles sadly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand and give it a brief squeeze. “Maybe in another life,” she says, then climbs into her car and shuts the door.

As she drives home, tears run down her cheeks freely. If she had to identify a reason for them, grief would be the closest one.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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cuquitalocita · 3 years

Text

kids and car rides 2 -feysand

AN: well, you guys liked the one-shot, so here’s a part 2! this is five thousand words of plotless fluff- hope you like it! if you didn’t read it, here is part one

part three

Rhys had known he was screwed from the very beginning.

It was those damn eyes. It had to be.

From the first comment Feyre Archeron had made in Literature, Rhys had been hooked. Maybe it was the tone in which she spoke the words, almost as if she expected someone to disagree with her even -though what she was saying was brilliant- but Rhys was pretty sure it was the paint stains she always seemed to carry around all over her body, no matter the time of day.

Gods, all he had wanted to do was brush a finger over a paint-stained strand of hair when she had been in his car earlier. Yep, because Rhys had somehow convinced the brunette to let him drive her home. He was still reeling.

Rhys shook his head, running a hand quickly over his face before focusing back on the road in front of him. Soon enough he was pulling into the student parking lot in front of the high school, immediately spotting Cassian and Azriel standing by Cassian’s truck.

Rhys scowled at them before turning off the engine and stalking over to them. He still wasn’t quite over them leaving Thebe out of his sight. But of course, Feyre had been there to find her. And just like that, his thoughts returned to the grey-eyed girl.

His friends fell into step beside him as they walked through the school in silence, still tired due to the early morning. He wasn’t sure whose brilliant idea it was to have football practice before and after school, but Rhys was still bitter about it.

“So,” Cassian snickered. “Did Rhysie have an interesting night?” Rhys shoved him, glaring through violet eyes at Cassian’s shit-eating grin and Azriel’s small smile.

“Shut the hell up, Cassian.”

“I think it’s a fair ask. You finally got the girl to spend some time alone with you and you’re telling me it didn’t go well?” Rhys rolled his eyes, arriving in the locker room.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Oh calm down, Rhys. It’s six in the morning- there’s no one else here.”

“Still,” Rhys insisted. He didn’t know what was going on with him and Feyre, but he doubted she wanted anything about them to start circling around the school. Especially when she was still dating Tamlin Hybern.

Rhys scowled into his locker. How could a girl like Feyre be dating a prick like Tamlin Hybern?

It didn’t matter, Rhys reminded himself. Because Feyre didn’t seem interested in him. So why should he even broach the thought of a relationship between them?

But his thoughts dissipated, quickly replaced with a small smile as he pulled his jacket out of his bag. She had only worn it for a few minutes, but the scent of Feyre Archeron had clung to his jacket like glue. Pears and lilac. Gods, Rhys could get drunk off of it.

“Dude,” Az’s voice rang through the almost empty locker room. “You coming?”

Rhys closed his locker, leaving his jacket inside along with the feelings for a girl who would never return them.

“Yeah.”

Practice was uneventful, his eyes constantly dragging to the empty bleachers, expecting to see- he didn’t really know what. Rhys had showered quickly, shoving himself out of the locker room as students began arriving and walking to their classes.

He was walking to calculus, already dreading what the old man had in store for his students when he passed the art room. Rhys shook his head. There was no way she was here this early. Why would she be?

But he couldn’t help it. So Rhys poked his head through the opened door of the art room, almost dropping the cellphone in his hand when he indeed saw the figure of Feyre Archeron hunched over in front of an aisle.

His heart was in his throat as he gazed at the girl in front of him. She wore a frown, clearly frustrated with whatever was going on in the painting in front of her and the sight brought a small quirk to his lips. Feyre had the tip of a paintbrush between her teeth and she seemed to be mumbling something to herself. Her hair was pulled into some type of knot in her head, also held together with a paintbrush, this one with a small bit of paint on it that was already falling into her hair. Not to mention the smear of yellow paint already on her cheek.

Rhys was full-blown grinning now as he shook his head.

He was shocked out of his staring by a strong hand clapping his shoulder. He recognized it as Cassian’s.

“Dude, you are so screwed.”

Yeah. Yeah, he was.

He saw her again after lunch. Feyre was back in the empty art studio, her brows drawn together as she examined the painting that now looked like a night sky. Rhys was sometimes taken aback by how talented she was.

If only he had the chance to tell her.

Rhys could practically hear Cassian’s voice in his head telling him to do it, so he did. With a light knock on the open door, he walked into the art studio. He couldn’t help but feel out of place with his clunky football gear around the beautiful paintings.

Feyre had jerked up as soon as he had knocked, the paintbrush flying out of her hand as it went to her chest.

“Hell, Rhys! You scared me.” Her gray eyes hardened as she took him in and Rhys couldn’t contain the grin on his face as he pulled up a chair and straddled it.

“Well, that was clearly my intention, darling. What fun would I be if I walked in like a normal person?” Feyre rolled her eyes, regaining her paintbrush and turning back to the canvas as if he weren’t there.

“I wonder, do things like that sound funnier in your head?” she arched a brow. For a moment Rhys was taken up in how simply beautiful she was. She looked like something out of a Disney movie with her big blue eyes and golden brown hair. Rhys was such a sucker for it.

“Aw, come on. We both know I’m funny.”

“Funny looking,” Feyre snorted. Gods, that was cute.

“I think we both know how you feel about my looks, darling.” His jab was rewarded with a pretty blush on Feyre’s cheeks that suited her a little too well. Finally, she placed her brush down and turned fully toward him.

“Is there a reason you’re here? Or have you just come to annoy me?” Rhys grinned, leaning his head on his hands.

“The latter obviously.” At her lack of facial expression, Rhys sighed. “Alright, I digress. I came here with an ulterior motive.”

Feyre arched a brow. “And that is?”

“To schedule my first study session,” Rhys blurted, thinking on his feet. The girl in front of him scoffed, twirling a piece of hair around her finger, and Rhys was struck with the raging desire to twirl it himself. It was sheer self-control that kept him in his chair. Because Feyre didn’t see him like that. No matter how much he wished she would.

“Sorry to tell you, but this isn’t the library.”

“That may be true. But my tutor’s here. I’m staring right after.” Feyre’s open-mouthed response was cut off by the bell ringing and Rhys cursed silently.

“Look, Rhys. I would if I could. But I’m honestly just too busy. This project isn’t working and the deadline is coming up. I’m sorry.” Feyre hauled her backpack over her shoulder and turned to leave the room before Rhys’s arm was shooting out to catch her wrist.

“Wait!” His hand dropped her wrist as she whipped her head back to him and Rhys swallowed. “Come on, go over notes with me for… twenty minutes. Then you can finish your project. I’ll even help you.” Feyre’s eyes flashed gray-blue.

“And how, pray tell-do you intend to do that?”

“By giving you inspiration of course,” he smirked, and the no-doubt accidental smile that broke on Feyre’s lips could have fueled his soul if he was the last man on earth. He shrugged, as if unaffected by the gorgeous smile on her face. “I’d say I’m pretty inspiring.”

Feyre watched him before shaking her head as if shaking thoughts out of her head. “You’re definitely something Rhysand.” She cleared her throat. “Fine. Meet me in the library. Three o’clock. Don’t be late. Have your study material ready and we’ll study. For twenty minutes.”

Rhys bet his smile was blinding as Feyre walked out of the room and down the hallway. He watched her in silent awe. But she had said yes.

Rhys wasn’t even a little embarrassed by the fact that he pumped his fist in the air when he knew she was too far to see him. She was going to study with him.

For a class, he didn’t take.

Shit.

Rhys cursed, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing the recently used number.

“Rhys?”

“Az, you take European Art right?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?”

“Please tell me you have some sort of notes for the class.” There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

“This is for Feyre isn’t it?”

“Will you just answer the question?” Azriel huffed.

“Alright, fine. There’s a blue notebook in my locker- it’s for art. Anything in there should work for study material. Stay away from the back, though. Those are too detailed. Feyre would never believe they’re yours.”

Rhys grinned, ignoring the jab, and thanked Azriel. After sprinting to his friend’s locker and acquiring his notebook, Rhys was strutting back down the hall, a satisfying feeling in his stomach.

She had said yes.

How Coach had actually ended up letting Rhys skip practice to study was beyond him. He had an inkling sensation that it had something to do with Cassian muttering something about a girl to him. Coach had simply rolled his eyes and given him a bi.

And that was how Rhys arrived in the library fifteen minutes to three. He hid behind one of the higher shelves, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and praying to the Gods that he didn’t mess this up.

Rhys had poured over the detailed notes in Azriel’s journal, thanking the Gods that he had a best friend who was so organized. The class seemed relatively simple, nothing much for him to worry about. He just hoped Feyre wouldn’t think he was stupid for asking the questions he would have to make up. Not lying in the first place really would have been the way to go. But it was much too late for that now.

Twenty minutes. That was all he had. He sincerely doubted that Feyre Archeron would spend more time with him than was necessary. And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

As if hearing his thoughts about her, Feyre, in all her glory, walked into the library at that moment, a phone held in between her ear and shoulder. A small pout was on her face as she shook her head, ignoring the looks of the librarian who clearly pointed to the sign saying phones weren’t allowed.

“It’s not like that Nes…” she was saying as she passed by the bookshelf he was hiding behind. She clearly hadn’t seen him. “We’re just studying. He asked for help and he drove me home last Friday. It’s the least I could do.” The voice on the other end of the line bit something back and Feyre’s cheeks turned bright pink. “Gods! No, that is definitely not what’s happening. Besides, you know I’m going to end it. Nesta, would you please calm down? Look, he’s gonna get here soon, I gotta go.” Feyre rolled her eyes at the person’s response. “Yes, mom, I’ll be careful. Love you too. Bye.”

Rhys was slightly surprised that Feyre felt she needed to be careful around him. The prospect of anything that would even remotely hurt her caused his stomach to tumble uncomfortably.

But he steeled himself and walked over to Feyre who was already sitting at a table at the back of the library, textbooks open. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly when she noticed him before returning to their usual indifference.

“Ready to do this, Archeron?” Rhys wasn’t prepared for the wicked grin Feyre shot him.

“I think I’m supposed to be asking you that. Bring it on, Knight.”

The study session consisted of alternating between watching Feyre ramble through intricate art details and attempting not to be intoxicated by her perfume. Rhys seemed unable to do either without realizing how truly enthralled he was with the girl.

Feyre looked beautiful when she talked about art, and Rhys quickly realized he only needed to ask a simple question to send her on a factual tangent. But he didn’t mind. Her cheeks gained a pretty blush and her eyes twinkled with each sentence.

Yeah, Rhys could watch her forever.

But the buzzing of his phone alerted him that he and Feyre had ‘studied’ for much longer than twenty minutes, and it was time for him to pick Thebe up from the elementary school.

“Any other questions?” Feyre asked, without noticing his phone.

“You ready to go?” She started in place as she finally turned from her textbook.

“What?”

“If you didn’t notice, our twenty minutes ended a while ago, darling.” Feyre scowled at the nickname but Rhys continued. “And it’s time for my end of the deal.”

“Your… what?”

“I told you I would help you with your art project. So let’s go. I have to pick up Thebe, but if you want, you can come home with us, and we can try to figure your project out.”

Feyre smiled at the mention of his little sister and Rhys’s heart did a little relay in his chest. But Feyre shook her head, packing up her bag.

“Thanks, but I don’t know how you could help. It’s a mental thing and I… should figure it out on my own.”

“Come on, Feyre. Are we gonna do this again? Just let me try. Besides, Thebe misses you.” Rhys was smirking the moment he saw Feyre’s resolve crack.

“Fine. I’ll do it for Thebe.”

“Feyre!” Rhys almost frowned at the excitement in his little sister’s voice as she jumped into the back of his car. She had never greeted him like that.

“Hey, no hello for your big brother?” Thebe stuck her tongue out at him in the rearview mirror and Feyre choked out a laugh from beside him.

“Of course not. Because you aren’t her game buddy, now are you? Right Thebe?”

“Right!” Feyre smirked in triumph as Rhys gaped at her. But he couldn’t even be offended if the sickly sweet feeling in his stomach was any indication. Rhys had been amazed from the beginning with how good Feyre was with Thebe. She had always been a good kid, but recently Thebe had been on a rebellious streak.

But the little girl seemed to have a weak spot for Feyre Archeron. Rhys couldn’t say he blamed her. So as Feyre reached over and turned on the stereo in his car without his permission and smiled at him when he looked at her, he decided he would be okay with being whatever Feyre wanted to be. Because he didn’t know if he could live without being able to see that smile.

The ride to his house was silent and content, Feyre smiling at Thebe in the rearview mirror as she kicked her feet to the tune of whatever song was playing. The second he pulled into their driveway Thebe was out of the car and sprinting to the front door. After a kind scolding from Feyre about running away from her brother, Rhys unlocked the front door and led the two girls in.

He could already smell his mothers cooking on the stove and sweet, melodic music flowed through the house. He gazed at Feyre as she looked around, a small smile on his face.

He was so screwed.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Before Feyre could reply, Rhys was walking to the kitchen mumbling, “I’ll get you a water,” and leaving her with Thebe.

“Rhysand,” his mother hissed the second he crossed the threshold into the kitchen. She was in front of the stove holding a wooden spoon. “Is that a girl out there?” Rhys scratched the back of his burning neck.

“It is.” He was rewarded with a smack to the back of his head. “And why exactly have I not had an introduction?”

“It’s her first time over here, Mom. I don’t want to freak Feyre out.”

“FEYRE?” Rhys winced as soon as he realized his mistake. “The one you and the boys talk about all the time?” He almost laughed at the resemblance between her and Thebe, but he was too busy blushing down to his toes.

“Yes, now can I please go back out there? There’s a good chance she ran away.” His mother rolled her eyes.

“Rhysand Knight, you bring that girl in here right now and introduce me to her. If she’s anything like Thebe tells me then something tells me we’ll get along just fine.”

“Mom-” the look she shot him demanded he keep his mouth shut and do what she said. So Rhys walked back out the living room where Thebe was coloring something on a bright orange piece of paper. She was speaking to Feyre, her hands moving in all directions as Feyre watched her, nodding along in understanding. There was no way she understood what Thebe was saying.

Feyre’s gaze snapped up as he walked into the room. “What’s up?”

“Uh, my mom wants to meet you. Is that okay?” Rhys was ready to start rambling before Feyre stood up and walked over to him.

“Sure thing. I’d love to meet the woman who raised my favorite Knight. I’m talking about Thebe, by the way.” Rhys rolled his eyes, shooting her a small grin.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go Archeron.” Rhys lightly pushed the small of her back forward and they walked side by side back to the kitchen where his mother now held a knife. Feyre’s laid back demeanor quickly diminished as she gazed at the older woman and Rhys had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

“Feyre,” Rhys said through a laugh. “This is my mom. Mom, this is Feyre. She’s here for some inspiration.”

Whatever Rhys had expected to happen was thrown to hell as his mother surged forward and enveloped Feyre in a hug. In a short bit of hesitation, Feyre hugged her back and smiled.

“It’s so nice to meet you, dear. I’ve heard so much about you- from both of my children, surprisingly. Although Rhysand didn’t tell me how beautiful you were!”

“MOM!”

Feyre was blushing up to her roots but she smiled back nonetheless.

“It’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Archeron. Your house is beautiful. And your children saved my life last Friday at the football game. Quite the athlete you’ve got here by the way.” Rhys frowned.

“I didn’t know you watched the game.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” she said, turning to him and shooting him a sly smirk. “I was talking about Thebe. She’s pretty fast.” His mother laughed as Rhys rolled his eyes. “I knew I would like you. And I suppose I have you to thank that I have my daughter here today?” Feyre shook her head, accepting the water bottle his mother offered her.

“I didn’t do much. It was a right place, right time sort of thing. Besides, I think we all run away when we’re children. I’m just glad she’s okay. She’s just a kid- I’m sure she’ll learn not to run off eventually.”

“I hope so,” Rhys and his mother echoed at the same time. Feyre looked between the two, a small smile growing on her face as she reached into her backpack and pulled out a pen and a pencil. Rhys shot her a questioning look but she simply shook her head, letting him know that she was in no rush to stress about her project.

“So, Feyre.” His mother had returned to her chopping board and was cutting some carrots. He crossed the counter and pulled out a cutting board for himself and began to help her, catching Feyre’s eye in the process. The smile he shot her was one of pure happiness, and if he had known her better, he would’ve guessed the one she returned was the same. “Rhysand tells me you’re an artist.”

Feyre laughed a little. “Artist'' is a broad term. But, yes, I paint. And draw sometimes too. Your son would know, since tearing me away from my work seems to be his favorite hobby.” Rhys would have paled if not for the twinkle of amusement in Feyre’s eye and he flicked a droplet of water at her, causing her to reach over and pinch his side.

Rhys yelped, and Feyre’s smile turned positively wicked.

“Are you…? Are you ticklish?” Rhys squawked in offense.

“I am not!”

“You are too,” his mother and Thebe’s voices harmonized together. The little girl had wandered into the kitchen not long ago and was sitting on the bar stool next to Feyre, holding her own colorful crayons and paper.

“Wow,” Feyre mused from across the table. “Rhysand Knight: star quarterback. Ticklish.” She let out a melodic laugh and Rhys knew he would allow himself to be embarrassed for life if only to hear it again. Thebe giggled from beside her and Feyre arched a brow.

“I wouldn’t be giggling if I were you, Thee,” she warned, wiggling her dexterous fingers at the little girl. Thebe let out a high pitched squeal as she attempted to back out of the chair, Feyre’s hand behind her the only thing keeping her from falling backwards.

“No...no! Feyre no! Don’t-!” the little girl protested. But it was too late, and Feyre had scooped the little girl into her lap, tickling her sides with fervor until tears of laughter were streaming down her chubby cheeks. Feyre was laughing along with Thebe, even as the little girl tried to reach for her own sides to tickle her.

Rhys turned around and stared at the wooden cabinets for a moment. This feeling, in his chest. He had never felt it before. Like every bit of sunlight in existence was shoving its way into his soul, and there wasn’t enough room for it so it simply grew bigger. He couldn’t explain the happiness that coursed through his body at the sight of Feyre with his sister. He didn’t want to.

By the time he turned back around, the two girls had called a truce, yet they both gazed at each other, eyes in slits.

“Finally found her weak spot, Thee?” Thebe pouted, crossing her tiny arms in front of her and shaking her head resolutely.

“She’s not ticklish!” the girl complained in a whine and Feyre laughed.

“Sorry, Thebe. It’s an Archeron family trait.”

“We’ll see about that,” Rhys stated, placing his knife down in the sink and turning back to Feyre, who was now looking at him with wide eyes as he approached her. Feyre backed up and out of the kitchen, her hands in front of her as if to defend herself.

“Rhys, NO. Rhysand, don’t you dare. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare! Rhys no-”

The rest of her sentence was replaced with a sharp gasp as Rhys reached for her, his longer arms and legs allowing him to easily reach around Feyre’s waist and pull her to his chest. She shrieked as his fingers found her neck, tickling without restraint and causing a cacophony of laugh to explode from her as her body attempted to spring away from his.

Not ticklish my ass.

“Rhysand Knight, you let go of me right now!” she managed to get out in between out of breath laughs. Rhys almost didn’t hear her over the overwhelming scent of her shampoo in his senses. But when he did, Rhys smirked.

“Hmm… no, I don’t think I will.” He didn’t think twice before hauling Feyre over his shoulder and carrying her back to the kitchen, her fists pounding uselessly on his back. Thebe and his mother watched the two of them with wide smiles and his sister clapped her hands in excitement, reaching out for Feyre as Rhys put her back down.

“My turn!” Feyre raised a brow, clearly confused. But realization struck her face too late and Thebe was already reaching towards her.

“Thebe! Come on, we’re friends, right? What about being game buddies? Game buddies don’t do this to each other!” But she was a girl on a mission, and Rhys tugged Feyre towards his chest once more, ignoring how well they just fit as he held her arms down.

Thebe tickled Feyre’s neck relentlessly until she had no choice but to shield herself. Feyre turned, burying her head in Rhysand’s chest. He ignored the fact that it offered no protection to her neck and pulled her closer, disguising the movement with the laughter in his chest. Rhys would trade anything for the moment to never end.

“Okay you two,” his mother cut in. “Release the prisoner. We do want her to come back, don’t we?” Rhys finally released her, immediately missing Feyre’s warmth. She shot him a dirty look that held absolutely no bite and the twinkle in her eye and flush in her cheeks changed her face entirely, reminding him once more of how beautiful she was. It knocked the breath out of his chest for a moment.

But he finally managed to pull himself together, returning back to the carrots on the counter as Feyre settled back into the chair next to Thebe.

“Traitor,” she hissed playfully to the little girl.

“Hey, don’t mess with the Knights. Right, Thee?” Rhys cut in from across the counter, reaching out to give his little sister a high five which she excitedly returned. He caught Feyre’s eyes and the blatant happiness in them made his heart flip.

His mother watched the two with amusement, her cheeks shining with a happy blush. The knowing look she shot him had Rhys clearing his throat and returning his attention to the carrots in front of him.

“So, Feyre. Do you have any siblings?” Feyre jerked, as if shocked out of her thoughts before smiling at his mother.

“I do, actually. I have two sisters, Nesta and Elain. Both are older than me. Nesta is a freshman at Prythian and Elain is planning on going there next year too.” Feyre was twirling her pen around her finger and Rhys quickly realized it was a habit of hers. He found it adorable.

“What about you?” he found himself asking.

Feyre’s pen stilled as she looked at him, as if surprised he had asked. But how could she be? He wanted to know everything about her.

“Velaris. For art,” she said finally. “That’s where I wanna go.” Rhys hoped Feyre hadn’t noticed the change of pace of his cuts. Rhys had been born in Velaris, and had lived there until he was ten before moving to Prythian. He had loved it with everything in him. Still did. Rhys thought he was pleasantly surprised yet again by another thing he and Feyre Archeron held in common.

“Really?” his mother asked knowingly. “How come?” Feyre’s eyes lit up, taking up an almost angelic glow. Rhys tried not to stare.

“It’s gorgeous. The city itself, and the lights, and the stars, gods, I could look at the stars of Velaris for eternity.” The life in which Feyre spoke the words had Rhys meeting her gaze. And something so taut pulled between them, he thought something would snap, if not his self control.

“What’s your project on?” he croaked out instead. Feyre cleared her throat, looking away from him and down at a scribbled on piece of paper next to Thebe. Her masterpiece.

“Um,” her voice was hoarse. “Love.” Although she wasn’t looking at him, his gaze snapped to her, noticing her now red cheeks.

“Love?” asked his mother.

“Love. A piece of art that represents my definition of love,” Feyre replied, finally looking at him. Gods, she was beautiful.

“Rhysie! I wanna help!” Rhys startled, looking at his little sister who was now holding out her hands for his knife. Rhys laughed, shaking his head and placing the knife down far away from her.

“Sorry, Thee. No knife today. Actually, no knife for a while.” His sister’s gaze narrowed, ready for war. But Rhys reached over the counter, careful not to brush his arm with Feyre’s, and picked up his sister, quickly sitting her on his shoulders.

She giggled in glee and Feyre beamed at the little girl. Rhys had a feeling Thebe wasn’t the only one with a soft spot.

“Here,” he said. “You can help from up here.” He tickled the bottom of her foot and grinned as she laughed. He loved this little goofball.

“Rhysand, you drop that little girl and I will knock you on your ass so hard you won’t be able to breathe for a week,” his mother warned. Feyre let out a loose laugh at the statement and Rhys playfully glared at her. She returned it in kind.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he swore. “Scouts honor.”

“Were you in scouts?” Feyre asked.

“No,” cut in his mother. “No, he was not.” She hit the top of his head and Rhys winced through a laugh.

“Aw,” Thebe cooed from above him. She began to rub his head. “There, there. Feel better Rhysie.” Finally Rhys smiled, looking up at the pair of violet eyes that matched his own.

“Thanks Thee.”

A rustling sound had him looking back to where Feyre was. She had grabbed a piece of Thebe’s construction paper on the table and was reaching for a dark blue crayola crayon. Rhys watched as she bit her lip in concentration and her hand began to move over the paper.

Feyre looked up again only to find him watching her. He quirked a brow in question and the smile and shrug she gave him in return was the sun on a cloudy day.

“I think I found some inspiration.”

Rhys was in love with Feyre Archeron. There was no denying it, as he stared at the row of finished final products in the art studio. The snarky and quick witted girl had captured his heart and Rhys was more than willing to give it to her. She could do with it as she pleased.

He had fallen wholly and deeply for her.

And as he gazed at the bright orange paper in front of him, at the sketch of a kitchen and a mother, a son and a laughing girl, he thought he might’ve fallen a little bit more.

i love these two :)

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #feysand fic #sjm #a court of thorns and roses

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beaubokuto · 3 years

Text

━ iv. what you broke

pairing: tobio kageyama x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au, angst

summary: prince tobio kageyama is cruel. he was known to be vindictive, revengeful, other synonyms for anger’s embodiment. you were not quite as interesting: a simple village girl with a knack for stealing things and a wish to kill the prince.

a/n: i love writing this fic so much

tags: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, enemies to lovers, all characters are aged up, minor depictions of violence (dueling, training, a little bit of blood)

glossary

previous chapter ━ next chapter

You did not change before following the guard out of the room. You just followed quickly behind the burly man in your cloak and dirty clothes. If the prince wanted to request your presence, you would come as is.

The sun had completely gone down in your time meeting your roommates, though the darkness did not do much in the already dark corridors. As you followed, it became instantly brighter as you entered the main wing of the castle.

The castle itself was dark. It was created by the Dark King long before your time, and he was as his name threatens. He took over this land and forced others to build him a castle of the darkest brick. From then, his lineage contained the same demeanor. Dark, mysterious, all together authoritative and intimidating.

You were annoyed at the thought.

The doors to the throne room were massive, arching three sizes above your head. The ceiling became taller, the room lighter against the dark brick and wood, and the Kageyama crest stared directly at you as the guard opened the door.

Tobio Kageyama was sitting in his throne when you entered. His throne sat just slightly shorter on the right hand of the king’s, made of silver instead of Black Gold (the richest form; the throne must be very uncomfortable to sit in). Soon that would be his seat.

The King and Queen were no where in sight. This was a personal request.

He sat straight up, hands resting on the arms in attention. You would expect a crowned prince to be more relaxed. Perhaps a leg over the arm or something interesting.

“Prince Tobio.” You greeted. It was formal to greet the royalty first; however, calling him Tobio was the opposite.

“Already you mock me.” He tilted his head. The crown stayed perfectly in place. “Guard, you may leave. She is fine, there is no need for a chaperone.”

The guard simply nodded and left the room, closing the large door behind him.

“I must inform you that Shoyo was not given my permission when granting you this.” He told you instantly. His blue eyes were the same color as the crest on the clasp that held his cloak around his shoulders.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

“No.”

“Then why tell me that?”

“Because,” He returned to sit straight up. “After he did, I heard that you were excellent with a sword. I happen to be trained in the sword as well. I hope to find our inevitable duel interesting.” A pause. “However, this is not why I asked you in here today.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting with you privately?” You asked, sarcasm dripping off of your tongue like honey.

You watched as his shoulders relaxed with a roll of his eyes. “You are going to be a difficult one, aren’t you? I asked you in here to tell you some of the rules before you go into training tomorrow. Every one else here has had their introductions; they’ve all been training for quite a bit now.” Another pause. “I am being generous.”

“Informing me of the basic rules and regulations for my training... ah yes, thank you for doing the bare minimum.” You scoffed. “Tell me, Tobio, how long have you been this generous?”

In one motion, he was standing. His movements were so fluid and complete that you hadn’t even registered that he was walking; it was as if he floated to you.

Standing in front of you, you could see his anger at your disrespect.

“With every word that you have directed towards me, you have done nothing but disrespect me, my position, and my virtue. Continue to do so, and you will be removed.” Tobio said, voice low and against your ear. “If you wish to stay, I suggest minding how you speak to me.”

He leaned back. You caught your breath that you hadn’t realized that you were holding.

Calling to the guard, “Guard! We are done here!”

“Wait, you never gave me the rules.” You blinked at his back.

“My apologies.” Tobio walked back to his throne. Sitting, he continued, “My guess is that you will figure it out. It being the bare minimum, after all.”

"We have a newcomer today, so we will be doing some introductions.” The trainer spoke. His voice was monotone and casted silence among anyone listening. He stood taller than everyone else in the room, including the other trainers, even though you were sure he was your age. “My name is Kei Tsukishima.”

The Knight Training room was a large room in the dungeons below the dorms. It was stained in blood and cleaned spills that left dark patches in the black brick. In the center of the room, there was a large circle painted in light grey surrounded by two smaller circles. The walls were lines in varying weaponry and training courses, along with fake bags shaped like people and targets.

“Welcome to Knight Training.” Another trainer added. He was a tad bit older, with dark hair and had a quiver strapped to his back. His voice seemed deeper, too. “I am Tetsurou Kuroo, I specialize in archery and survival techniques.”

“I’m Koutaro Bokuto!” The buff one added. He stood with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. He had a scar that crossed from his nose, through the left side of his lip, and curved back to his left cheek; it made his smile lopsided. “I specialize in knife throwing and hand to hand combat. Yamamoto, remind me to finish your D-4 later.”

Akari nodded to him from beside you, not caring for his lack of formalities.

“And I am Keiji Akaashi.” The last spoke. He was the shortest, yet stood tall. He also seemed incredibly bored by the introductions, as were you. “I specialize in the spear and hunting, including stealth and gathering.”

“I specialize in the sword.” Kei Tsukishima added. He turned to you, eyeglasses hiding his eyes. “So, newbie, you will be with me.”

As it turns out, the knights were rather informal people. They seemed to be formal with royalty and in public, but they talked casually the entire time you were in the training area.

You were sure Koutaro Bokuto swearing would be the most entertainment you have ever had.

“I was told that you are excellent with a sword.” Tsukishima said once it was just you two. You had followed him directly to the area furthest to the left, where you found an array of swords and targets.

“This is the second time in two days that has been told to me. Who is spreading this rumor?”

He shrugged. “Just people. I want you to show me what you can do.”

“Show you what I can do?”

“Yes.” Tsukishima nodded his head to the box of swords. “Pick a sword and show me on the dummies what you would do if they were enemies.”

He gave you no other instructions. You were used to your own sword, the one that sat on your hip. So you reached for it. He didn’t seem to mind.

Unsheathing your sword, you stood in the circle of fake people. They were rather realistic looking, despite no true facial features.

Quickly and effortlessly, you brought your sword down on the dummies. In only a swift movement, you had taken off one head and another’s arm. You finished with a stab to the last’s throat.

“I see Shoyo was telling the truth.” Was all Tsukishima said. “Although, next time you must inform us of carrying your own weapon. Follow me.”

The rest of training consisted of you traveling between the trainers. But they maintained your closeness to Tsukishima.

Yua Ito and Akari Yamamoto met you back in the quarters. You were all complete in sweat, wear, and tire. You were sure your face had dirt and grime on it, as well as your messy hair.

“You didn’t tell us that you were that good with a sword!” Yua exclaimed as she changed, not caring for the presence of others. “You don’t even need training!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Akari sighed. “You are good, I admit. But you still need training.”

“That’s why I am here, is it not?” You offered.

Yua giggled at your sarcasm, and Akari raised a brow. Most of the trainers and others at training were informal and spoke in sarcastic tones. They couldn’t have been that surprised.

“I like you.” Akari said, collecting a pile of clothes to go bathe.

Dinner for the knights was quite eventful.

Beside the training center, there was another large room in similar dark brick and grey accents. This room had small windows near the ceiling, large tables lining the middle, and buffet style tables on the outer edges nearest the walls. It was the most food you had ever witnessed.

Meats, potatoes both fried and mashed, fruits and vegetables, fish and other harbor foods, breads that were warmed, frozen desserts and chocolate... you had no idea where to start.

“First meal here?” Tsukishima appeared behind you. Without his knight gear on, he was just as tall and brooding.

“It is that obvious?” You looked over your shoulder instead of turning around. He walked closer. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“I always start at the right side, near the breads. It leaves the necessities first and the desserts and sweets last.”

“Are you always this kind to new knights?”

“You are greatly mistaken.” Tsukishima shrugged. “I am not kind, nor are you a knight. Not yet, at least.”

The following days consisted of non stop practicing. The schedule was easy to follow: train at sunrise, have lunch, continue, and then dinner. Lights out when the sun sets. Repeat.

However, several days in, you started to notice a new presence.

Tobio Kageyama would watch from the outer stands that lined the walls. He would sit, guard at his side, and analyze the training. Without a single word.

One day, you felt his gaze on your back as you attempted knife throwing. It wasn’t too difficult for you, but it was far different than your usual heavy and long sword.

One of your knives hit the target directly where you had aimed, it’s head, and Bokuto cheered happily. He exclaimed, “you are going to be excellent at your first duel!”

You shrugged off his praise. And the prince’s stare.

“For today, we will only be practicing for the first duel of the season.” Tsukishima stood in the center of the circle, arms crossed and voice echoing. “We will go by how long you have been in training.” His eyes turned to you. “Which means you, newcomer, are last and will be fighting against whoever wins.”

“The rules are simple.” Kuroo stepped up. His voice seemed deeper. “You will fight with your weapon of choice. You can win by three ways. One, you manage to get your opponent out of the circle. Two, you have them on the ground for three seconds or more. Or three, they simply cannot continue.”

Akaashi spoke, “There will be no killing, nor major injury. We will step in and announce the winner before then. Other than that, expect to bleed and fight with all you have. This is training to be a knight on the king’s court, not practice for games.”

“That being said,” Tsukishima looked at some parchment in his hand. “The first duo will be Akari Yamamoto and Ren Sato.”

You stood beside Yua as they battled in the circle. Akari was amazing at knife throwing, you’ve witnessed it throughout the past several days. Ren was an older man, older than anyone in the room; but he must’ve been here a long time and have had the money to return through the years.

“I had no idea Akari has been here that long.” You muttered to Yua. “To be the first duel, I mean.”

“She’s been here for years.” Yua didn’t take her eyes off of the pair fighting. “Don’t say anything, but I am not sure she wants to be a knight. Her father is one, so he got her into the training program. But each year, she never makes it to the final duel.”

You turned to Akari, who threw the knives directly where she knew to. She was strong, tall, and had all of the qualities of making a perfect knight. You wondered why she was delaying her career.

The winner of the series of duels was a man named Kaito Hashimoto. He was around double your size, both in height and build. His weapon was a spear, which was perfect for you because you planned on being very close to him. A distance weapon like a spear had no victory over a close ranged weapon like your sword.

You informed the trainers of your personal sword, and they agreed to allow you to use it during the duel. “Although, in the final duel against the king, you must only use the weapons provided.” Kuroo told you.

The duel was a blur in your vision. Like most days when you spent a majority of your time sparring Kiyoko, you placed the entire world out of view and only focused on the enemy in front of you.

Kaito Hashimoto had laughed when you entered the circle. As if he had already won.

You remembered small pieces of what happened. You remember witnessing Tobio Kageyama’s entrance into the training area, finding his place in the stands. You remember opting for offense immediately, knowing that he would be surprised at your lack of defense. You remember using all of your strength and weight behind every attack.

You laughed when you had him knocked down for five seconds. Because you had won.

"Congratulations.” Tsukishima announced. “For this duel, our top ten will continue. Although you will get a small advantage, being our overall winner.”

“We can discuss that advantage later.” Bokuto said. “For now, I do believe that our crowned prince has something he would like to say.”

Everyone stood in a hushed silence, attention fully on the man in black and blue.

“I do have an announcement.” Tobio Kageyama said from the center of the training ground. All of you surrounded him, standing on the outer edge of the circle, clinging to his words.

You crossed your arms over your chest. You were still sweaty, heavy breaths rolling out of your mouth in huffs.

“In two days time, I will be crowned King.” He said. The silence was deafening. “And with that, many kings and rulers from other kingdoms will be arriving to bare witness to the event. After, we have a week of balls and festivals.

“I wanted to give my thanks to all of you for your effort and training. You will have the entire week off. I invite you to all of the events that will take place at the castle. This includes the crowning.”

You felt your jaw drop. You looked over to Yua and Akari, who both shared the same expression. You would be at balls, at fairs and festivals, with the royalty of the nations.

You’ve heard stories from Kiyoko of balls, of extravagant parties and drunken nights. You’ve heard stories of the other princes and kings that rule the kingdoms that are on the other side of the outlying woods. You’ve only ever heard stories.

And none of them excited you.

They were always something to brag about. They were always something that made other’s seem better, seem richer. If you heard someone in the town streets talking of going to such events, you would turn away and steal something from their bag as punishment for making you feel inferior.

Being able to attend yourself sounded like the perfect time to practice.

You felt someone’s eyes, and you looked up to find Tobio Kageyama staring directly at you.

masterlist

tag list: @immxnty @elegantlykpop @thechaosoflonging @starryparkrr @cosmotoic @tooruluv

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limerental · 3 years

Text

Here we go, my first @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo fill, for the prompt, Romeo and Juliet

Relationships: Ciri/Dara

Rating: T

Content Warnings: referenced genocide, briefly assumed threat of sexual assault, minor head injury, canon typical fantasy racism & misogyny

Summary: Canon Divergent. Ordinary princess Ciri (no elder blood, no child surprise) is dreading her upcoming political marriage when she meets Scoia'tael Dara in the woods outside of Cintra.

Ciri urged her mount on through the tangles of the undergrowth, leaning to cling to the mare’s neck as she surged up inclines that scattered loose soil underfoot, leaning back again as they dropped into vine-choked valleys.

The horse was sure-footed and hot and could sense Ciri’s rush of adrenaline and frustration, the overwhelming need to flee and flee fast. Whoever dared to chase her would not keep up, not with the reckless route that she took through the landscape.

But no one was chasing her. Not yet, at least.

“Go take that new mare out,” her grandmother had said after Ciri’s frustration bubbled over into snide words unbefitting of a princess. Her lips had pursed with pale tightness, but the softness of her eyes said that she understood some of what Ciri was feeling. She and Queen Calanthe only fought so fiercely and so often because of how similarly stubborn and rebellious and bold the both of them were. “I trust that you’ll come back with a clearer head.”

She could pretend for a moment while hugging the mare’s muscled neck, that this headlong race was part of a much grander, more exciting adventure. That her life was not spiralling utterly out of her own control in ways that were so mundane.

Princess Cirilla of Cintra, having been of age for nearly a year now, was to be married off before midsummer.

“We have delayed long enough,” said her grandmother. “If it were wholly up to me, I would not have you marry at all except for love. But the threat from the Scoia’tael increases by the day, and a marriage will strengthen the coalition of our allies. You have known your whole life this day would come.”

Ciri’s whole life made for a dreadfully boring story. Nothing exciting or interesting had happened to her even once or ever would.

Even a harrowing flight through the forest in defiance of her Destiny was nothing more than a cliche. The newest feminist literature told similar tales over and over. Stories of bold maidens who spat and brandished swords and cut their hair short and fled from the marriage bed were all the rage in the more forward-looking areas of the Continent.

But this was Cintra, and Ciri was not a girl but a Princess. No one would ever write a story about her except as a footnote to some arrogant prince, further noted in the lineage of her sons and grandsons.

Probably her name would be misspelled. <i>Princess Serilla of Cintra</i>, it would say. <i>Producer of prodigious heirs and otherwise simply not of note even a little bit.</i>

The rugged landscape suddenly opened up as the mare charged ahead, and Ciri found herself on a beaten track, cutting off a rider on a grey stallion who scrambled desperately to avoid a collision.

Her mare skidded in a great cloud of dust and veered one way while Ciri veered the other. She soon found herself sprawled on the path observing just how much faster her mount could run without a rider as the horse disappeared around a curve in the path, her hoofbeats fading.

Something nudged Ciri in the stomach.

“Ow,” she said, touching the velvety nose of the grey stallion who snuffled at her abdomen. The horse’s face was fine-boned and dished along the curve of its profile, and it wore a bridle embroidered with intricate stitching and hung with tassels. The reins jingled with miniature bells. The horse’s ears were pierced with golden barbells.

This was no Cintran horse and certainly no Cintran rider.

Mustering all her courage, she forced herself to squint up at the towering rider, the dappled sunlight through the trees casting a mottled glow on his figure. A young man dressed in earth tones, his skin dark and jawline bare of facial hair. He looked down at her with brow furrowed, as though confused by the series of events that had led to a girl lying flat on her back on the path before him, dazedly stroking his horse’s muzzle.

Most distressingly, he wore a cap sitting askance on his head, a squirrel’s tail slung across his right shoulder.

“You’re a--” Ciri wheezed to clear the dust from her lungs and sat up on her elbows. “You’re an elf.”

“I’d say so, yes,” said the young man. "Have been since I was born.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Ciri shoved herself up to stand and found herself much less fine than expected. The world spun.

“You alright?” asked the young man.

“No, of course not,” said Ciri. “What a stupid thing to ask.”

Her brain a bit addled by the fall, Ciri was not sure whether she should be more fearful that the elf would leave her alone in the forest or that he would take her with him. There were said to be Scoia'tael encampments scattered throughout the countryside, but she had not expected any so close to the outer wall.

She didn’t notice the rider dismount until he was standing beside her at the stallion’s head.

“His name is Wyn,” said the elf, lying a gloved hand on the horse’s face, “and I’m Dara. How about you?”

“I’m--” She stopped herself. “I’m no one. I’m an orphan. A brigand. Nobody.”

“A brigand? Did you plan to rob me? By flinging yourself from your horse?”

“Well,” said Ciri, “I’m not a very good brigand.”

“That was a well-bred horse for an orphaned nobody,” said Dara. He was smiling, the slow sort of smile that touched his dark eyes first, though she didn’t know what exactly about this situation was anything close to amusing.

“I stole it.”

“I thought you weren’t a good brigand?”

“Suppose I just go lucky,” said Ciri. She drew a deep breath and felt a twinge in her ribcage. Ignoring it, she squared her shoulders and faced Dara with all the bold nobility she could muster. “Or not. I know all about that cap you wear. I know who you are. I know you hate my kind and want me dead. So go on, get on with it. Try to strike me down. I'll defend myself."

“Your kind?”

“Humans,” said Ciri simply. “You wish to wipe us out and claim our castles for your own and muddy our bloodlines.”

Dara bent over his knees to laugh, a startlingly loud noise in the quiet forest.

“I think you may have some things a little backwards," he laughed. “Is that really what’s being said about us these days?”

“Yes. In all the… brigand camps.”

“I didn’t know brigands cared about castles and bloodlines.”

“No but--” Ciri felt her cheeks turn pink.

“You’re Princess Cirilla of Cintra,” said Dara, and Ciri’s heartbeat leapt in her throat.

“How did you--”

“You’re wearing the seal of Cintra at the clasp of your cloak. Your hair is as pale as they say. And you speak like a princess.”

“I damn well do not,” said Ciri. “Fuck you,” she added for good measure.

Dara laughed again, a sound both light and musical, a warming sort of laugh.

“Princess Cirilla,” he said, stepping closer to her. The horse between them seemed bored of the affair of standing in the middle of the road, his eyelids fluttering closed. Her head felt too muddy to know what she was meant to do in this situation. She expected that she should flee. Call for help. At any moment, a gang of Scoia'tael could burst from the trees and claim her for ransom.

“Ciri,” she corrected.

“Ciri,” said Dara, smiling. “I’m not going to leave you alone in the woods.”

“Right,” said Ciri, suddenly dizzy. She found that it was not as gratifying as she thought it would be to be a part of a more exciting narrative. “You’re going to kidnap me and take me back to your camp and make my grandmother give in to all your sick and twisted demands for my safe return. Or worse, you aim to defile me and force me to bear your children which will ascend to the throne. Or you--”

Her dizziness overwhelmed her.

The forest pitched to and fro, and when she became aware of her surroundings again, she rode on horseback with someone’s arms clenched around her, the undergrowth a green blur and the horse’s pace swift and sure.

Cold fear gripped her until she saw a familiar outer wall rise up from the forest. She knew if she craned her neck, she would see the glittering spires of Cintra’s main keep far away on the hill.

“You took me back,” said Ciri, her voice scratchier than expected. Dara’s grip tightened as she shifted to look round at him, and he reined the stallion to a halt. He had removed his cap, and she was struck by the strange urge to touch the line of his pointed ear. She realized a second too late that she had given to the urge and snatched her hand back, face burning.

“I took you back,” said Dara. “I’m not an animal or a monster. I don’t kidnap or defile distressed maidens. None of my kind do. We want reparations, not slaughter. We want our relics returned to us and our history respected.”

“How boring,” Ciri mumbled. “The other story’s much more exciting.”

Dara dismounted and shifted to help her do so as well. Ciri swayed on her feet but managed to stay upright, distracted by the warmth of Dara’s hands on her arms.

“I’m sure you know there’s a gate not far from here. Follow the wall. I can’t go farther than this.”

He gathered up Wyn’s reins and turned to lead him back into the forest, and Ciri felt her heart clench strangely.

“Wait,” she called. “You saved me. You’ll be rewarded.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works, Princess,” said Dara and smiled his soft smile.

Ciri breathed deep, holding herself upright and summoning all her bravery, and strode with only some unsteadiness to stand before him.

“Thank you, Dara of… the woods. For your service and protection.”

“Very formal for a brigand.”

“Yes, as is taught at brigand school.”

Being almost of a height, Ciri needed only to rise slightly onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against the line of Dara’s brow. His fingertips touched the curve of her elbow, and she rested a palm on his chest. Small and lingering touches that she would remember with perfect clarity long after.

“Have you read any of the latest stories? With defiant maidens who flee from the marriage bed and learn to fight with swords and ride swift horses and cut off all their hair?”

“I can’t read,” said Dara simply, “but they sound like good stories.”

“Yes,” said Ciri, and with all the stubborn rebellion that was her birthright, she ducked forward to kiss him on the bow of his lips.

#the witcher #ciri x dara #not yet posted on ao3

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zukoscomet · 3 years

Text

I realised recently that I never actually collated all the ideas I had about my Zutara kids so here, have some steambabies! Idk I just really like the idea of Katara and Zuko having a big family after all they’ve lost when they were young, and as an only child, I guess I kind of romanticise the idea of having siblings.

TW: I hc that Katara would have had a miscarriage, so if that is a trigger for you then maybe don’t read on.

Shameless plug but if you wanna read more about this, my series on AO3 is roots and wings.

Their firstborn is a boy who they name Kai after Kya. His full name is Kaito but nobody who knows him ever calls him that, not even when he’s in trouble. I’m not going to go into too much context about like the pregnancy bc you can already find that stuff here. He turns out very much like Zuko physically - tall, golden irises, straight black hair, narrow angular face - but he has mixed tawny skin and his eyes are shaped round and wide like Katara. He’s born on the last day of summer in 109 AG, so because of superstition that firebenders are born in peak summer, there’s some uncertainty about what he’ll bend - if at all - but then when he’s three and a half, he makes a flame. Iroh trains him to firebend until he’s about 16, then he goes off to the Sun Warriors for a year to finish off, and he ends up a very spiritual firebender. Kai is like the dream first child - the softest boy ever to live - and when Katara and Zuko go on to have more children, he’s a really great big brother, like wholeheartedly adores his little sibs even if they drive him completely nuts about 95% of the time. He’s quite a conflicted and confused kid growing up. He’s never quite sure of what he wants in life but finally, when he’s 17, he decides that he realises that he doesn’t want to be Fire Lord and passes along the heir status to his sister. After that he joins the Sun Warriors and eventually marries the chief’s daughter, Himari, and they have two firebender girls, Aiko and Sol.

Izumi arrives not long after her brother in 110 AG. Katara and Zuko planned to wait but it ends up that there’s barely a year between Kai and Izumi and it comes as an extra shock as Katara didn’t figure out she was pregnant again till like 18 weeks in. Katara goes into labour early at 35 weeks and Izumi is born really small - she never completely catches up either and it’s hilarious because after successive generations of tall male Fire Lords, they get Izumi who’s barely 5 feet - but she’s otherwise fine. She’s physically a mish-mash so overall she resembles nobody especially - Katara’s hair, complexion and big round eyes, Zuko’s irises, Azula’s heart-shaped face and highly arched brow line, Hakoda’s facial features. The superstition about summer births for firebenders peters out real quick when Izumi, born in the autumn, bends blue fire at two and a half and, taught by Jeong Jeong, she grows into a prodigal master. When she’s young, Izumi is the polar opposite of her brother - feisty, stubborn, determined and whip smart - and she’s a heathen teenager but by about 15 she mellows and matures, and part of Kai’s reasoning for abdicating is that Izumi seems a better fit for Fire Lord. Izumi was always kinda apathetic to kids but at 19, she accidentally gets pregnant and has her son, Kazuo, then her daughter, Kira, eleven years later. Izumi becomes Fire Lord at 37 but she only rules for about 14 years before retiring. Since she had Kaz so young, if she stayed on the throne much longer, Kaz would also be an older man when it came time for him to inherit, so she decides to step aside and Kaz is coronated just after his 33rd birthday.

(Kazuo takes after his Gran Gran in more ways than just his blue eyes; he’s a waterbender so Kaz is the first waterbender Fire Lord)

After a break, Katara and Zuko decide to try for a third addition and Katara gives birth - in the Southern Water Tribe, for the first time - to Bashira, four years after Izumi. Shira looks probably the most like Zuko out of all the children, even more than her elder brother does. They share the same tall and lean physique, the same long black hair, Shira is mixed but still the palest of all the steambabies and their faces are practically identical. They’re characteristically very similar, too - serious, intense and reserved. The only differences is that her hair is curly, her eyes are blue and finally, Katara gets her waterbending child. Both of them suspected that Shira was going to be a waterbender even at the early stages of the pregnancy, but it’s still super exciting when Shira tosses a wave at her elder siblings when she’s two. Katara is teaching her as soon as she possibly can but over time some tension develops between them when Shira turns out to be quite different from her mom in terms of natural bending style. Shira is very fight-oriented, she learns dao swords from Zuko and never shows as much of an interest in the healing arts, but when things blow up and eventually Shira is able to explain that she wants to be able fight like her mom did during the war, things straighten out and Katara guides Shira all the way through to mastery. She eventually moves to the South in her late teens to lead the tribe’s warriors. There, she has three children - waterbender twins Kenzo and Kenji, then a daughter named Kanna who��s a firebender like Grandpa - but the marriage to their father doesn’t last and in her 50s, she ends up in a relationship with Aang and Toph’s daughter, Lin.

Katara gets pregnant for a fourth time - planned - just after Shira turns two, but this time she has a miscarriage. Zuko was overseas when it happened so she went through it alone. Katara is devastated and resents Zuko for not being there. She knows it’s not his fault but she can’t help her emotions and that makes her feel even worse so she just shuts down - stops doing her Fire Lady work, stops spending any more time with Zuko and their children than necessary, won’t let the rest of the family visit them and spends most of the day lying in bed. Zuko doesn’t know how to help her so initially he decides to give her space to grieve however she feels she needs to, but it just deteriorates until one day Zuko suggests that maybe they should both go to therapy or marriage counselling or something because it can’t go on like this. Katara just completely loses it at that and ends up yelling at him all the things that she’d been bottling up over the last couple of months. Katara says some awful things and she’s expecting Zuko to take it poorly, hence why she kept it all inside up till now, but Zuko just accepts every bit of it and after that, she’s finally able to grieve properly and mend.

About six months after they come back together, they decide to try again and Katara eventually falls pregnant. The pregnancy itself goes smoothly but both of them are so stressed about something going wrong like last time and the effect that might have on both of them, then Gran Gran passes away when Katara is in her thirtieth week, so the full ten months were incredibly hard-going.

It’s a big relief when the baby is finally born on Ember Island, three years after Shira in 117 AG. They name her Lili in honour of their recent losses, since lilies can ease scars and Iroh once referred to them as lights in darkness. From the beginning, Lili is the image of Katara in every way physically and characteristically - kind, patient, gentle, but does have quite a temper if she’s pushed too far. She’s also a waterbender, though it takes her a little longer to manifest her abilities than any of her siblings, first gaining control of the water at the age of six. Lili is incredibly endearing, as both a child and an adult, and she becomes so particularly popular with the Fire Nation public that the firebending qualification to be considered an heir to the throne is reversed, so Shira and Lili are inducted into the succession. Born in the same year, Lili had a long-term relationship with Tenzin, Aang and Toph’s thirdborn, but as they grew older, Tenzin was concerned that if he married her, their children would have heritage of all four elements and degrade the chances of Tenzin producing airbenders and continuing the Air Nation. That concern resulted in a kind of on-again-off-again thing but eventually Lili sent him off with an "I don’t want to be with someone that isn’t even sure he wants me" and went travelling the world for a few years. When they’re both in their thirties though, Lili and Tenzin reconnect and get back together, eventually marrying and producing five children - Jinora, Aya, Hiro, Rohan and Kano, the elder four airbenders and the youngest a waterbender.

A few months after Lili is born, Sokka and Suki have a baby girl and when Katara and Zuko go to visit their new niece, they agree that night on a spur-of-the-moment that they want one more child. The morning after, they talk about it properly and decide it’d be better to wait till Lili was a bit older, but Katara found out six weeks later that that one time had been successful. About halfway through, they find out that they’re expecting a boy and Katara is especially excited since their son had always been more closely attached to her whereas their girls were very firmly Daddy’s girls. Sure enough, when Kallik arrives in 118 AG, he’s a big Mama’s boy and remains so his entire life. Apart from his curly black hair, Kallik is the spitting image of his uncle, to the point that Hakoda says that seeing Lili and Kallik together is like seeing young Katara and Sokka. Kallik is the hardest to handle out of their children - loud, playful, mischievous and an exhausting troublemaker. All of the siblings fight like cat and dog but Kallik and Izumi are by far the worst, on the level of one walks into a room and the other is like “And I took that personally” and they never seem to grow out of it even when they’re both old and grey. Kallik is the only nonbender in the family and initially he struggles with this a bit but he spends a lot of time hanging out with Uncle Sokka, learns dao swords with Shira and Zuko, and by the time he hits his teens, he comes to view it more as something that sets him apart from his siblings. When he’s 18, he goes to join the United Forces and he stays in service till his late thirties, when he meets Ren, another serviceman from the Northern Water Tribe. After beginning a relationship with him, the pair settle in Republic City and end up adopting two daughters, Kirima and Alasie.

About a decade after Kallik is born, it seems like things are kind of slowly drawing to a close as the kids are getting older - Kai is 19 and has left home, Izumi is 18 and living away in Republic City while she studies at university, Shira is 14 and already talking about moving South the first chance she gets, Lili is 11 and wanting to go Northern Water Tribe to train with the healers there, and Kallik is 10 and dreaming of being a great military commander like Grandpa Koda and Uncle Sokka - when suddenly Katara starts to get really, really sick. Zuko is absolutely terrified, thinking that there’s something seriously wrong with his wife, but after some deduction, it turns out that Katara is actually pregnant again. The relief at realising she’s not dying is short-lived and the reaction from both of them is basically holy shit holy fuck we are too old for this our other kids are practically all grown up now we are done with babies we can't seriously have six children what are we going to do. There’s a lot of discussion, especially since Katara is 43 by then and the risks for her to be carrying another child are higher, but they ultimately decide to go through with it. Ironically, it’s the easiest of all her pregnancies and when Katara delivers a baby girl in Republic City in 128 AG, there hadn’t been a single complication to speak of. Iroh had passed away two years earlier, devastating the whole family but Zuko in particular, but the baby is born with his irises - a darker gold - so they name her Ilah. Her eyes are big and round like Katara’s but other than that, Ilah resembles her Grandma Ursa most strongly, with her thick chestnut-coloured hair and slight, delicate facial features. Naturally, Katara and Zuko think all their babies were the cutest baby but Ilah is probably objectively the cutest, with her big honey-coloured eyes, chubby cheeks and soft little curls.

Inevitably, since Kai, Shira, Lili and Kallik had all either left home before she was born or did so when she was still a little girl, Ilah gets a lot more concentrated attention from Katara and Zuko. She’s completely spoiled and doted upon by the whole family, including her elder brothers and sisters who visit her as often as they can manage. Since Izumi still lives in the palace permanently as the Crown Princess, she and Ilah are close, but Ilah ultimately ends up being closest with Izumi’s son, Kaz, who is only a year younger than his aunt. Ilah was even in the room when Kaz was born, though it wasn't an intentional move. Zuko was supposed to be watching Ilah when things got intense with Izumi’s labour but things escalated from 0-100 real fast and Katara didn't have time to hand Ilah off, so she stayed tucked in a sling on her mother’s back as Katara helped her eldest daughter to deliver her own baby, somehow sleeping through all the noise and commotion. Ilah and Kaz end up more like a brother and sister or best friends than an aunt and nephew, though Kaz always calls her Auntie Ilah when he’s teasing her. Ilah is perhaps the shyest around strangers of her siblings, uninterested in celebrity and attention, but she’s the most adventurous, determined and creative, interested in science and invention from an early age. Growing up, Ilah felt a little pressured by the renown of her family, especially when her firebending turned out to be just about average in power, but when she’s 12, Ilah figures out that she can combustionbend. From there, she applies her bending abilities to science and when she leaves home for university, she invents the combustion engine at age 20. The rest of her adult life is spent travelling virtually non-stop, working on innovation projects for the different nations. She never has children, on the account that it would be unfair to expect a kid to move around as much as she does and she’s happy enough with her numerous nieces and nephews, but she eventually marries her long-time girlfriend Li-Mei, an Air Nomad tasked with searching the world for new airbenders.

#zutara #katara #zuko #katara x zuko #avatar: the last airbender #steambabies #momtara and dadko

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ninbayphua-moyan · 3 years

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Moonlit Sparrow Through Parted Clouds

Thunderous grey clouds hung heavy in the sky as I made my way towards the lecture hall. My body ached with a bone-deep exhaustion and each leaden step I took felt heavier than the last. I stopped, wanting to turn back, but time and time again, my body refused to obey as my legs carried me towards my destination.

Half an hour later, I found myself standing outside the empty lecture hall despite the countless hesitations along the way. Sighing, I sank to the floor and closed my eyes, too tired to remain upright. That’s what university does to you. It sucks out your soul, your passion, and your youth, leaving nothing behind but an empty husk of a human being.

A familiar voice calling my name pricked my hazy, sleep deprived brain and I cracked open my heavy eyelids. My facial muscles moved like clockwork, automatically forming a smile to greet my friend.

“You look like a corpse!” Chu Ying exclaimed worriedly at the sight of the heavy dark circles beneath my vacant eyes.

“Haven’t been getting much sleep this week…” I replied with a nonchalant shrug as I quickly scrunched up my eyes until they turned into little crescents of laughter, “assignments due soon.”

Seemingly convinced by my explanation, she gave me a look of sympathetic encouragement and left. The second no one was looking, I let the smile fall. Amazing what a simple smile could conceal. You could probably murder someone, smile, plead innocent and everyone would believe you. Sighing softly under my breath, I grabbed my bag and joined the gathering crowd of students as they trickled into the dimly lit lecture theatre.

My laptop sat quietly on the desk, an empty word document laid open on its illuminated screen as the lecturer’s monotonous voiced droned on and on in the background. I should have been taking down notes but my mind was too preoccupied with my issues with the Undergraduate Office to focus on what the lecturer was saying.

A rhythmic vibration drew my attention towards the phone sitting on my lap. Glancing at the pop-up notification, a wave of anxiety and hope surged through my body as I registered who the sender was – the Undergraduate‘s Office. Quickly, I pulled up the email and immediately felt my heart sinking after reading the first line.

All seminar groups are full and we cannot move students.

Lies.

Another notification, this time, from my personal tutor.

It’s only week 3, relax.

Disappointment. Betrayal. Frustration. Anger. I clenched my trembling hands into fists as the tsunami of emotions threatened to explode and spill out of my shaking body. Half of me wanted to storm over to the Undergraduate’s office and let loose the unbridled rage coursing through my veins at the unfair treatment. The other half of me wanted to lash out at my tutor’s condescending advice. My body trembled at the barely, ever so barely contained anger.

Sixteen thousand pounds. That would be eighty-four thousand two hundred and seventy-nine ringgit each year in school fees. Fees which didn’t even include the amount I needed to spend in order to buy the books required for the modules. Sixteen thousand pounds per year just to get an education, an education that I wasn’t even getting at this point and her advice for me was to relax? How could I when my parents worked their entire youth away, saving every cent just so they could send me, all the way to Britain to get a proper education! Did they even know what the stakes of sending me abroad to study was?!

My father’s average yearly income is twenty-four thousand ringgits, barely twenty-eight percent of my yearly school fees. Was it that unreasonable to want to be in a class that will allow me to learn and improve after paying for that much money out of my parents’ own pocket?! Why would anyone in their right mind come half way across the globe, paying that ridiculous amount of money, and being so far away from family and home for years, just to fool around? If that had been my intention, I wouldn’t even have bothered going to university in the first place, let alone coming all the way to Cardiff!

University will be fun they said. You’ll meet open-minded people passionate about learning they said. Hah! That’s the biggest misconception if there ever was one. First of all, the university doesn’t care about whether you actually learn anything so long as you're paying the fees. The majority of lecturers or seminar leaders will only do the most minimal amount of work required and by that, I mean three hundred words of prose only per weekly assignment. What kind of creative work could anyone produce under three hundred words? In prose! Some don’t even bother with critical commentary which is just as essential as the creative pieces. Not only does the lack of practice in writing critical commentaries and limited word count for the creative pieces inhibit students from developing any work of significance, it also underprepares students for the three-thousand-word portfolio due at the end of the semester.

Secondly, British universities are also especially discriminatory towards outsiders or people of colour, often treating minorities and international students with hostility or disregard. I’ve experienced this discrimination first hand upon requesting a seminar change. Despite having emailed the Undergraduate Office at the same time with the exact same reasons, I was denied the change whilst my British classmate was immediately allowed to swap seminars. The office even went so far as to lie about the class being full even though I was told by the professor leading that very seminar that it wasn’t. So much for the integrity of the institution.

At the end of the day, international students are nothing but cash cows to British universities.[1] Not only do they have to pay double of what British students pay in terms of fees, they also have to deal with the discriminations that come alongside being an outsider. I understood that in this day and age, education was a business, and that the university itself was, essentially, a business, but doesn’t actual passion for learning still count for something? Or was I wrong in believing in that as well? Oh, so naïve, so very naïve!

Old memories started to surface amongst the turmoil of emotions. My father and his worn-out clothes, refusing each time to buy new ones for himself just to save a little more money. My mother mending them as best she could whilst we slept, never once complaining. Images of my father’s prematurely greying hair and bloodshot eyes as he worked his health away to provide for his children’s future. My mother’s back bent low, labouring away at some project or another in order to make ends meet. Yet, they never once showed us how tired or how tough things were. There was always enough food on the table and they always had a smile on their faces around us. Sometimes, I noticed that they would eat a lot less than usual but whenever I asked, they merely joked and said they were trying to lose weight. They could have enjoyed their youth, their honeymoon, but they decided to save it all, sacrificing their health and comfort just to ensure mine by sending me here.

I remember the times where they would secretly check their wallets whenever I begged them to buy me a book. Oh, how those very books painted and fuelled my illusions of Britain’s perfection. If only I had known the reality of it all before applying to study here. But it’s too late for regrets now.

A sharp stinging pricked the back of my eyes, tears threatening to fall as my body shook with suppressed, uncontrollable rage. Maybe if I was a little braver…maybe if I fought a little harder…maybe if I confronted them a bit more…maybe…maybe…maybe…

Then as quickly as they appeared, the tsunami of emotions faded away, leaving behind an empty husk. My clenched fists loosen and fell limply at my sides as a quiet, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Nothing was going to change. No matter how hard I fought, the end results will remain the same so what’s the point of even trying in the first place?

As the cold hard reality of the situation finally presented itself, I slumped against the chair, my empty laptop screen staring blankly back at me. Resignation dragged me deeper and deeper into the murky depths of my mind. I was drowning. No one knew and no one cared. But that’s fine. The ending remains the same regardless. Always the same…

The sound of rustling papers and loud chatter momentarily draws me out of the murky waters. Realising that the lecture had ended, I gathered my things and shuffled towards the exit, my mind returning once more to the depths of the void. Outside, the rain was pouring. I plodded down the streets drenched to the bone as my legs moved mechanically towards my flat. A stifling numbness engulfed my mind as I trudged on in silence, the howling wind battering my shivering, rain-soaked body from all sides. Rounding the corner, I pulled out a key-card and entered the cramped grey flat. Out of sheer habit, I grabbed the letters from my letterbox and stuffed them into my coat pocket before heading upstairs.

Entering the dingy room, I dropped my backpack on the bed and sank to the floor. Hugging my knees to my chest, I stared vacantly at the bleak wall. My phone rang insistently in my pocket but I didn’t answer, too tired to move. The crushing weight on my lungs forced out whatever little oxygen I managed to draw, making each breath a struggle. The clamouring voices in my mind grew louder and louder, growing in intensity yet forcefully contained, like built-up pressure without release on the brink of implosion.

You’re useless

I’m…not…

You can’t even stand up for yourself or fight for what you believe is right

Yes I can! And I’m trying! I’ve –

You’re a disappointment to your parents and your family

I’m not! I swear! I –

You’ll never amount up to anything

That’s not true! I –

You’re pathetic

No –

Nothing but a Failure

Stop saying –

Human garbage

Please! Just –

Waste of space

“SHUT UP!”

Silence. Nothing but the sound of my ragged breathing in the darkness.

The world would be better off without you

I don’t know how long I had stayed there on the floor but by the time I came around, my dripping wet clothes were nearly dry. The chaotic calamity within had finally died down and I was filled with an eerie calmness. A deafening silence blanketed the air, pierced only by the hypnotic rumbling of trains across tracks. Ah yes…the railway…my ticket to solving everything…just two blocks away…and it’ll all be over…permanently…

Forcing my lethargic limbs to move, I wobbled onto my feet and stumbled towards the door. A tiny parcel fell out of my pocket and the handwriting on it made me paused. It was my mother’s. Even under the dimness of the moonlight trickling in, there was no mistaking that immaculately cursive hand.

Letting go of the door handle, I kneeled down to pick up the neatly wrapped package. Then, slowly, as if afraid it would fall apart at the slightest touch, I began unwrapping the parcel. Upon opening the box, tears welled at the corner of my eyes. Six little cylindrical bundles of haw flakes were carefully packed within, each attached to a tightly rolled up strip of paper. Gently untying the scrolls from the sweets, I began reading them one at a time.

Jie![2] I got you your favourite sweets! Wanted to buy you more of them but Ma said there wasn’t enough space in the box. Don’t worry, I’ll send you a big box of them once I’ve saved up enough money.

– Di[3]

My heart ached as I thought about how much it must have costed for them to ship the parcel all the way from Penang to Britain. And with the little amount of pocket money…it must have taken Di-Di months of saving to be able to afford buying that one bundle of sweets…

Jie, just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you have to hold everything in on your own y’know? It’s okay to rely on others a bit more from time to time. Enjoy the sweets you idiot, you’re crazy about those haw flakes. No idea why you like them either, they aren’t even that nice.

– Mei[4]

Tears pricked the back of my eyes as my sister’s grumpy voice echoed in my ears. I could even see the disbelieving eye roll at my odd preferences in sweets after the last sentence. How I’ve missed our senseless squabbles and late-night chats….

A-Yun, being an international student in the UK isn’t always the easiest thing, especially when you’re a minority there. You’ve already taken the necessary steps and have done all you can in that situation. Remember, it’s the end result and not the process that defines a victory. Remember what Sun Tzu mentioned in The Art of War? ‘The most important rule to victory is to know when to pick your fights and how to fight it’. Not all battles need to be fought to win the war. Never forget our family values and never lose sight of your goal. Don’t worry about finances, let me handle that. Just focus on your studies and aim for that first-class honours. The best revenge is to succeed despite their efforts to stop you. Continue to work hard and don’t give up. Know that regardless of the outcome, your Ma and I are proud of you and that we love you very, very much.

– Ba[5]

A sob catches at the back of my throat as tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Acute pangs of longing weighed heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

A-Yun[6] ah, if it ever becomes too much to bear at Cardiff, come home. Ma will make you your favourite dishes. I know you want to do well but don’t overwork yourself. Remember to get enough rest and try to change your bad habit of skipping meals. Two boiled eggs alone don’t count as a proper meal either!

– Ma[7]

A sheepish giggle escaped my lips despite the tears, Ma’s exasperated voice ringing in my ears. I could almost picture the look of indignation on her face as she judges my terrible meal choices before proceeding to fill my bowl with steamy boiled dumplings.

Ah…Ma’s famous boiled dumplings…the saltiness of minced pork marinated with soy sauce and sesame oil…the refreshing sweetness of spring onions and carrots contrasting the pork’s saltiness…flecks of finely chopped hei-mu-er adding a chewy texture to the tender meat whilst thin sheets of delicately wrapped dough encapsulated it all…the slight bitterness of the herbal broth complementing the savoury dumplings…[8] My stomach growled in protest as I smiled fondly at the memory.

Wiping away the remaining tears, I unrolled the last strip of paper. Elegant brushstrokes painted familiar characters in horizontal lines. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I recalled sitting on A-Gong’s [9] lap in the garden as kid, watching him practice calligraphy. I remembered how he used to read his poems aloud as I gaze at his hands guiding the bamboo brush across the ivory sheet, entranced by its flowing movements. Each word written was like a piece of art, each stroke of ink painting a meaning of its own.

Tranquil night’s darkness, the moon shines bright, From the mud the lotus rises, its petals pure despite. Vermillion red blossom like wildly raging flames; Elegant, virtuous, delicate, yet exquisitely untamed. The wise once said that adversity yields flair, An upright heart, oblique shadows don’t scare. Dripping water with time wears the stubborn stone, Sturdy wood too can be cut with rope saws alone! [10]

A strange tranquility wrapped itself around me as I read the poem, A-Gong’s calm and mellow voice resonating in my ears. It was almost as if he was standing right before me with the usual toothless smile and twinkling eyes on his wizen face. Tenderly cradling the small box of sweets, a faint smile graced my lips. Their vermillion red and gold wrappings shone with a certain warmth under the soft light of the moon. Gently unwrapping one of the thumb-size bundles with shaking hands, I popped a disk-like piece into my mouth.

Immediately, a wave of warmth spread throughout my cold and hollowed body, almost as if it was infused with the life-giving heat of home. The familiar tart sweetness of the hawthorn berries cleared the heavy fog that clouded my mind and for the first time in a long while, I felt energy slowly seeping back into my worn-out soul, reigniting the snuffed-out fire within. Strange how something so small, barely the size of my thumb, could bring so much comfort and hope. That night, the moon shone a little brighter than usual, and the normally barren sky seemed to be exploding with billions of twinkling stars.

NOTES

[1] Alina Schartner & Yoonjoo Cho, ‘“Empty signifiers” and “dreamy ideals”: perceptions of the “international university” among higher education students and staff at a British university’, Higher Education, 74 (2017), 455-472

[2] ‘Jie’ means older sister in Chinese

[3] 'Di’ means younger brother in Chinese

[4] 'Mei’ means younger sister in Chinese

[5] ‘Ba’ means father in Chinese

[6] ‘Yun’ is written as ‘云’ meaning ‘cloud’

[7] 'Ma’ means mother in Chinese

[8] Hei-mu-er is the Mandarin term for black cloud ear fungus, a type of mushroom often used in Chinese cuisines.

[9] ‘A-Gong’ means grandfather in Chinese (specifically, the Hainanese pronounciation)

[10] This is a self written and self translated poem I wrote. The original Chinese version can be found here.

[11] ‘Moonlit Sparrow Through Parted Clouds’ is a play on 守得云开见月明 meaning the moon will shine brightly again when the clouds part, and 麻雀虽小五脏俱全 meaning though a sparrow is small, it has all the vital organs.

Author's Notes:

So this is one of my earlier prose pieces from uni (all the way back from first year lol). I don’t usually post prose? Not prose of this length at least. Anyways, I thought I’d take the leap and try posting them online now since I decided to start doing that for my poetry pieces? The rest of my prose pieces throughout uni somehow ended up becoming interlinked with several recurring characters though there are some inconsistencies since they were initially intended as stand-alone pieces rather than a series of somewhat loosely linked short stories. I’ll be posting them in story timeline sequence (or at least as closely to a sequence as I can since I didn’t exactly plan out the timeline of these pieces either) rather than in the sequence it was written in so there might be a slight fluctuation in writing style cuz they do kinda change over the years? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading Part 1~

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Since exams are over and graded and I've officially graduated, I can finally post my work online without having to worry about Turnitin picking it up as plagiarism because apparently you aren't allowed to plagiarise yourself according to university which is absolutely ridiculous but I'm not the one making the rules here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, please don't reupload my works without permission.

#ninbayphua 墨彦 #prose #short story #I'm new to sharing stories or prose I've written online so please be kind #constructive critisms are always welcomed #please don't repost without permission

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thesims4blogger · 3 years

Text

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (May 13th, 2021)

There’s a new Sims 4 update available for PC/Mac and Consoles.

PC: 1.74.59.1030 / Mac: 1.74.59.1230 / Console: Version 1.41.

Heylo Simmers!

Hope everyone is doing great wherever you are in the World. We have a small Game Update for you today, we hope you enjoy it.

Happy Simming!

Chaus Chaus – Dag Dag!

-SimGuruRusskii

What’s New?

As you may have seen revealed in our past Sims 411 Livestream, we added in this update a few new Asian Eye Presets for Female and Male Frames. You can find these in Create A Sim and we hope you love them! In case you missed the Livestream, I have applied my nonexistent photoshop skills and have added them in these patch notes for your enjoyment. See below for maximum visuals!

Besides adding these presets we also have updated two hairstyles from our Base Game.

Firstly, we have the gorgeous Hair_MedTexCurls or as we have named it in our Sims 411 blog post, the “Retro Style Large Afro”. Beautiful! I added a few screenshots on how it looks with Female and Male Frames, and Adults, Children, and Toddlers.

Secondly, we have the fab Hair_EF13AfroShort or as we called it the “Short Afro.” I have added below some screenshots with Female and Male Frames – Adults, Children, and Toddlers as well for your reference. I want to note that we noticed that this particular hairstyle with the Black Color Swatch looks a bit Grey in the screencaps below, but we can tell you that we have fixed it already for a future update.

Now onto the fixes…

Bug Fixes

Sims 4

We fixed an issue with two of our facial hair offerings, the ymFacialHair_BeardThinGoatee, and ymFacialHair_ChinStrap, as they were making Sims faces wider when applied.

The Voodoo Doll’s thumbnail in Sims’ Inventories has been fixed so it doesn’t change appearance when used, as it should not.

Simmers in Laptop Mode will no longer see glitch textures when the Easel is placed on the Lot. It was like a glitch in the Matrix, just… visually striking.

Get Famous

Vampires

Country Kitchen

#news #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #game patch

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putas-in-suffering · 4 years

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Terms of Endearment

Pairing: Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, desecrating quinceañera dresses (oops)

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Part 1. Mutual attraction doesn’t always mean you’re on the same page.

A/N: You asked and we delivered. We got the OG daddy himself, Bishop aka El Presidente, showing up and showing out for you sucias. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

*Check out our Cartel Daddy in part 2 of this love/lust triangle here

Your eyes caught his across the factory floor. He was making his way towards you, a self-assured smirk decorating his bearded lips. He stopped to greet one of the workers, winking and smile at the passing women with all the charm of a teenage boy. His swagger was undeniable, his confidence radiating like a neon sign. He was a man that knew what he was doing, knew what he was capable of. If the fine lines decorating his face and the grey in his facial hair didn’t give him away, the glint behind those warm cocoa eyes did. He had experience. The kind of experience that captured your attention, in more ways than one.

“Obispo,” You greeted coolly, unwilling to let him bear witness to your more than business-like interest in him.

“Querida…” He responded, smirking and moving in for the obligatory kiss on the cheek.

You didn’t chastise him for the pet name. You may be one of Miguel Galindo’s most trusted employees, but you were still a woman in a male-dominated world. Running a cartel was surprisingly conservative work. The men treated you like a woman instead of as an equal, and while that used to piss you off, Miguel had taught you to utilize your feminine strength. So you did. You batted your eyelashes and laughed when you were supposed to. But the minute someone crossed the organization, you were front and center putting a bullet between their eyes. It was the nature of the game.

So you let the demeaning names go and you let the men think they were smarter than you. It always came back to bite them in the ass later.

But Bishop was different. He may be old-school, but you knew he respected you. You were the middle man for him and Miguel and he’d confided in you many times that he’d rather look at you than have to see another pressed suit. You had laughed at that despite the dig at your boss.

You accepted the kiss he offered and forced the heat of attraction down as his eyes quickly, but not so discreetly, appraised your figure. You smiled, pleased with his examination of you. Your heels clicked as you turned and beckoned him to follow you, your pencil skirt suddenly feeling too tight. His eyes were on you. You could feel them burning a hole in your back. You reveled in the attention, feeling your nipples begin to harden against the lace of your bra. Thank god you hadn’t worn a white blouse today.

“Shipment ready to go?” You asked over your shoulder, hearing his heavy steps follow close behind. The rest of the Mayan crew were situated at tables, lining the traditional dresses of womanhood with your product.

“Yeah, tonight. As planned.” He supplied, gesturing to the box truck being loaded.

You nodded, pleased with the sight. You didn’t necessarily have to be here to facilitate, but you’d decided at the last minute to swing by. Bishop had things under control as usual. And you got to ogle him under the guise of management, though you were sure you were fooling no one.

“Good. You have any issues give me a call.” You recited dutifully. He nodded, that smirk still staring back at you as if he found the whole thing amusing.

“Will do.”

“Did they get the new patterns we sent over?”

Bishop nodded, rubbing at his facial hair. “Yeah, they’ve made some already. Wanna see?”

“Sure.” You said as you followed him this time. He led you to the back, a locked storage room your destination. It was practically deserted back there and you were glad for it.

Bishop opened the door and allowed you to pass before him, winking as you did. You smiled bashfully, trying hard to hide it. The door closed with a heavy thud behind you both as you made your way over the rack of dresses. Miguel had sent over a new sewing pattern for the ladies, the new design allowing for more product to be moved in one dress. You inspected the delicate craftsmanship, in awe of the women’s talent. It looked exactly how Miguel had wanted. He’d be pleased.

“All good, princesa?” Bishop’s deep voice sounded against your neck, his proximity a lot closer than you’d ever been to him before. You could feel the heat of him behind you, not pressing into you but close.

His words sent shivers down your spine, his nearness making a rush of adrenaline pool in your panties. His hot breath on your neck made your heartbeat journey down and stop right between your legs.

“Great. These look great.” You managed to say, voice now raspy with raw lust. You shifted your neck a fraction of an inch, allowing him more room. You were inviting him to take it further, assuring him you wanted to.

His fingertips danced along your waist, barely touching you but setting your skin ablaze all the same. He stepped closer, pressing himself against you. You gripped the dresses in desperation as his beard scraped at your neck. His lips didn’t move and you groaned in impatience. He only laughed.

“We don’t have time to fuck around, Bishop.” You bit out, trying to goad him into action.

Again he laughed, the chuckle tickling your skin and forcing your heart to beat double-time.

“Say it again.”

“What?” You asked in confusion, trying to comprehend what it was he was demanding of you.

“My name…say it again.”

You moaned in response, pushing your ass back against him. His words made your whole body feel drunk. Your limbs felt heavy. Your lips ached for his. Your lower half sought him out desperately. Your pussy clenched in need. Your nipples peaked against the fabric of your blouse. You wanted him. You wanted him bad.

“Obispo.” You purred, purposely using his legal name. You’d never heard anyone else call him that. The idea of you being the only one gave you a rush of power you hadn't realized you’d been searching for.

Silent elation flooded you at his quick intake of breath and the low groan that sounded seconds later. His fingertips no longer hovered, but instead latched onto your hips and held your ass to him. He cradled you against his hardening cock, the ridge of the zipper making you lean forward ever-so-slightly out of instinct. Bishop’s hips jutted in response, his excitement overflowing at seeing your bent position.

“Fucking shit…” He cursed, rough hands rubbing sensuously at your ass. “You sure you wanna do this?”

His hands were already drifting down to the hem of your skirt. You bent forward again, letting your ass push back into his stiff cock.

“Fuck yes…” You moaned, both in response and encouragement of his hands at your thighs. He pulled the constricting fabric of your skirt up, revealing your thighs and ass. He skimmed a hand over the flesh, pulling at the lace of your thong as he did so. The fabric caught on your clit, forcing a moan from you lips.

“Shhhh, preciosa.” Bishop gently chastised, his thick finger running from your lower back to the flooded slit between your thighs.

The sound of fabric ripping was ignored, the seam of one of the dresses you’d been gripping now split. The hangers strained against the weight of your hold, but you didn’t care. You needed the support against Bishop’s unrelenting hands. He teased your clit, dipping his fingers into your wetness and then back out again. His other hand groped your breast through the silk of your blouse, pinching your nipples with precision.

He was manipulating your body exactly how he needed. And you fell right into his clutches, letting him do as he pleased. You arched into his touch, you ass continuing to push back until he gave you what you needed.

“Bishop, please…”

His mouth attacked your neck, his tongue dancing along the flesh in erotic fashion. He soothed the burn left behind from his facial hair, lapping at you tenderly. He showed no signs of acknowledging your plea.

“Bishop, goddammit.” You cursed as the seconds passed by without his cock stuffing you full. He made no move to release himself from his jeans. His inaction forced you into action. Your hand left the dresses and reached behind you, feeling for the buckle on his jeans.

“What’re you doing?” He gritted out. He wasn’t stopping you, so you forged ahead.

“Knitting a sweater.” You deadpanned, failing to release his belt with one hand. “A little help?”

Devilish laughter filled your ears once again.

“Yes ma’am.”

You rolled your eyes in response. Bishop would use this occasion to address you as something other than the terms of endearment he’d been using. Something that denoted respect.

Ironic.

A moan, loud and satisfying, left your lips at the feel of Bishop’s warm, hard flesh meeting yours. He’d finally pulled himself from his jeans, letting his cock sit dangerously close to your begging walls. You could feel the wetness already dotting the tip of him, the liquid smearing across your ass. You pushed back while he rutted against you, your bodies needy and seeking friction.

“Ready?” He asked, biting at your earlobe as he did. You could feel the weight of him pressing against your entrance, the head barely slipping past but already making your muscles burn. His hand was holding your panties to the side, affording him the perfect view.

“Yes. Do it.” You demanded breathlessly, jutting your ass out further. He let his cock slide against your opening, coating himself. Each pass caused him to bump your clit. You struggled to stay still, ready to implode from the inside out. Just when you were about to tell him to fuck off, he finally entered you.

“Fucking hell…”

“Jesus…”

You both released ragged curses at the joining of your bodies. You could feel him throbbing against your heat, feel the ridges of his thick cock as your walls squeezed around him. He nudged at your cervix, the angle ensuring you were about to get the most intense fucking you’d ever had. He began to move, sliding effortlessly in and out. Your pussy contracted, your climax already embarrassingly close.

“Harder.” You demanded, thankful that the racks you were supporting yourself on were cemented into the ground.

Bishop grunted, his hips acquiescing your request. He thrust so hard you almost went headfirst into the cement wall. He caught you though, his hand gripping your hip and keeping you mercilessly attached to him. You whimpered at the brute force of it, the tingles of euphoria getting stronger with each plunge.

“I can feel how close you are. Cum for me, querida.”

Your walls tremored in response, as if proving his statement. He growled, his hips faltering at your tightness. He let both of his hands come together at your hips, stabilizing you for his oncoming assault. You bit your lip, trying to keep your delirious moans at bay. The slap of skin reverberated throughout the room as he fucked you with all the savagery of a wild animal. Despite your effort, noises of extreme pleasure flew past your lips. You trailed a hand down to bathe your abandoned clit with attention. Within seconds you were coming.

“Shit, shit, shit…” You chanted as your entire body convulsed in intense waves, the orgasm so powerful that it felt like it lasted for hours. Your eyes were squeezed shut and all you could do was hope that Bishop kept his firm hold on you.

“Fuck baby…that feels fucking good.” He praised, letting you ride out your pleasure. You spasmed until your energy was drained and your mind had traveled back to earth. His touch still burned you, but in a much different way. You were utterly satiated and still yearning for more.

He resumed his movements only when he felt you lazily push back, signaling you were ready for him to continue. He started off slow once again, but sped up as he got closer to his own climax. Your pussy came to life once again, struggling to grasp against him as he thrust. Your release coated you both, making it difficult for him to stay buried inside you.

You hissed when he hit that intensely sensitive spot within you, forcing you to try and pull away. But he didn’t let you. Instead, he held you tighter while he thrust faster. The grip on your hips hurt, but the extreme pleasure between your thighs eclipsed it. You could feel his hips start to falter as he dived right off the cliff to join you.

Warm spurts of his cum filled you. The sensation was almost as fulfilling as your own orgasm. You felt his entire body tighten up before it released and practically went immobile. His hands drifted from your body, his cock barely inside you anymore with the abundance of moisture between the two of you. His breathing was ragged, coming out in rapid succession. He steadied you as you moved to straighten yourself, your legs now teetering on your heels. The sound of his belt buckle alerted you to his movements as you shifted your skirt back down. You were both attempting to appear as if you hadn’t fucked in a storage closet full of quinceañera dresses. And while you both were still on the clock.

You adjusted your blouse, tucking it back into your skirt. You met Bishop’s gaze, dead-set on not jeopardizing your working relationship. He cracked a lazy smile, showcasing his now sluggish mood.

You laughed.

He joined in, shaking his head as he did. “Miguel’s gonna kill us.”

“Not if he doesn’t find out. You plan on calling him up to tell him?” You teased.

“Thought about it.” He shot back, the humor clearly displayed all over his face.

“And why would you do that?” You arched a brow and crossed your arms.

Bishop stepped into your space once again, licking his lips as he held your stare. You waited with baited breath, heart back to pounding wildly against your breast bone.

“To let him know I fucked you and he still hasn’t.” Bishop all but gloated.

“And what makes you think he hasn’t?” You replied with obvious attitude.

“The way he looks at you. That man hangs on your every word. It’s almost fucking sad.”

You blinked, not shocked by his observation, but still surprised. You and Miguel had a past. One that did not include you sleeping together though it had gotten close. You’d made it your own rule to never sleep with the men you worked with. It was imperative that they respected you.

But Bishop had been different. Bishop had experience that made you feel like a novice with most things. You supposed that was the allure.

He pulled a cigarette from the pack hidden inside his leather. A silver lighter appeared from his jean pocket, the flame already dancing against the end of the stick in his mouth.

“Say a word of this and I’ll have you silenced in a heartbeat, El Presidente.” You warned. You knew he wouldn’t, but you could never be too careful. Men liked to think they were superior and above emotion, but they could be worse than any woman you’d ever known. Their dicks seemed to always get in the way of logic and the last thing you needed was a pissing contest to take place between the two alphas.

Bishop paused, eyes narrowing at your obvious threat. He sucked in a mouthful of smoke and let it plume out and into your face. He laughed at your words, but you could still see the seriousness in his expression. But you didn’t back down. You may have just let him fuck you, but he wasn’t the one that signed your paychecks. Nor did you take orders from him. The cartel was bigger than him. And he knew that.

“Oh, I have no doubt…princesa.”

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