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thepinklink · 4 months

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I,, don’t really have a reason to hold this back and I’m too impatient to do it just in case so here’s another Rescue Ranch AU snippet

@skyloftian-nutcase it isn’t much but here, maybe it will help ease your misery :’) also @telemna-hyelle you wanted to know who I killed? Well, read on and find out :)

TW: Mentions of death/war, general trauma :’)

Numb.

That is the only word to describe what Warriors feels as he rides through the village he once called home. It’s now little more than debris and ashes, shrouded the burned and collapsing shells of houses and stores. He wants to urge Royal into a gallop, and get to his house as fast as possible, but he knows that won’t do. Royal is unafraid as he picks his way carefully through the wreckage. He’s served to faithfully, Warriors can’t bring himself to make the horse sacrifice care for speed. He might get hurt. That, and a part of Warriors knows his family is dead. Granny and his half siblings, Wind and Aryll…he knows they can’t have made it through whatever hell befell their home. He won’t be satisfied until he knows for sure, until he sees their house and…and them…and that’s why he doesn’t urge Royal faster. The longer he stays away, the longer he can hold onto the shred of false hope that says they could still be alive.

It’s foolish hope. And he knows he must squash it, because he has to know. Give them a proper burial, if he can. Honor them in whatever way he can manage, after failing them so badly.

The small seaside house comes into view and sure enough—it matches all the others. Half-destroyed, still smoking, a little. Warriors dismounts Royal, and somehow his legs hold him up. Heavy, mindless steps carry him towards the wreckage. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Behind him, Royal whinnies. Warriors spins around to face him—that whinny means someone is there and usually “someone” is a monster. Royal is standing there, ears and eyes open off Warriors’ left. He sees a flash of bright yellow and sea blue out of the corner of his eye and his gaze snaps towards it.

Wind, his little half-brother, stands frozen a few yards away. He must have been standing behind the far side of the house. That wall was mostly intact, which explains why Warriors didn’t see him.

They stand there for a solid six seconds, just staring at each other. Warriors doesn’t dare move. What if this is a dream, or a hallucination, and moving breaks it. He’s stuck in time. His breath is stolen from his lungs.

Wind takes a step forward, and then his second step launches him into a sprint and he barrels towards Warriors with more speed than an angry lizalfos. Warriors is unable to do more than fall to his knees and catch Wind in his arms, wrapping his little brother in a hug so tight his arms ache. He is unable to stop the tears from falling, especially when he hears Wind start to sob. He knows he’s supposed to be strong for him, but Wind will just have to forgive him for it later because in that moment Warriors has no strength for anything else.

They eventually run out of tears, and just sit there on the ground in some degree of shock. The silence carries unspoken terror, of everything they’ve seen, and the only freshly broken grief that they were alone.

“I thought you were dead,” Wind whispers after a long time.

A dozen replies drift through Warriors’ head. “I thought you were too.” “But I’m not. I came back for you.” “I feel dead.” But when he opens his mouth to say something, no words come out. He settled for squeezing Wind even tighter.

“…Grandma and Aryll didn’t make it.”

Ice replaces the blood in Warriors’ body. Did he watch it happen? Hylia, please say he didn’t have to watch.

“I just finished burying them.”

Goddesses. He’s only 14. Why? Why?

Yet more tears blur his vision, and he presses his face into Wind’s shock of yellow hair.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The words become too wracked with sobs to distinguish them. Wind is silent the entire time. Warriors is ashamed of the way it seems more like Wind is comforting him than the other way around, but four years of ignoring it all finally bubbles to the surface and he is helpless to stop it.

It feels like they stay that way for hours before Warriors finally, finally runs completely out of tears to cry. He allows himself a few minutes to collect himself, before giving Wind one last squeeze and rising unsteadily to his feet. Wind grabs his hand, and he grips it without the intention of ever letting it go.

“We’ll pay our respects to Grandma and Aryll.” He says. “And then we’re getting the hell out of here. They wouldn’t want us to stay.”

Wind nods, and the brothers make their way to the pair of graves on the far side of the house, facing the ocean. Warriors doesn’t remember his legs ever being this stiff and achey. Regardless, they spend another hour gathering wildflowers and seashells to decorate the graves with. The sun is setting by the time they find themselves standing in front of the duel mounds, staring down at the little messy bouquets and colorful shells. They’re both completely silent, shocked and numb and exhausted.

A chilly breeze directs Warriors’ gaze up to the sky.

“…Let’s go. It’s getting dark.”

Wind doesn’t say anything, but he also doesn’t resist when Warriors starts walking away from the graves and, still holding hands, gently pulls Wind with him.

They walk silently back to wear Royal still stands in front of the house, having moved only a few yards further in order to graze. Warriors decides it will be more comfortable for all parties if they ride bareback, and removes his old and worn military-issued saddle off Royal’s back, abandoning it on the ground a few feet away without a second glance. He mounts first, and then helps Wind up, settling his little brother in front of him. With a softy click of his tongue and a squeeze of his heels, Royal starts walking. Warriors turns him northeast, away from the sea.

They’ve only traveled a few yards when Wind lets out an ear splitting wail, laden with grief and sheer exhaustion. Warriors lets him, even though his instincts say noise will attract monsters. He lets Wind scream and cry until be can’t anymore, and he slumps against Warriors, fast asleep.

Warriors sighs gently through his nose, feeling his own anguish swirling in his chest, threatening to escape in a similar manner. He forces it all down, down, down as far as it will go, locking it there with a promise to keep Wind safe.

As long as Wind needs him to be his pillar, he will not shed another tear.

#rescue ranch au #hahahaha I’m pretty sure it gets happier from here on out #I think #whoops anyways #linked universe #rrau warriors #rrau wind #plink writes

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evita-shelby · 2 years

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The First Time

Gif by @peakyfckingblinders-blog

Smut, first time i write it and probably the last lol.

Some parts will feel familiar because the middle part is chapter 6 of Between the Shadow and the Soul and the last part is the oneshot tasted heaven on his lips.

Minors and people who don't read smut/porn please don't interact.

This was not the first time she snuck Tommy into her bedroom at night.

This past fortnight he’d mastered the art of creeping in like a thief in the night and he leaves before dawn so no one knows he’s been with her.

He is a gentleman with her, never doing anything she isn’t comfortable with and taking things slowly because almost everything is new to her.

Eva loves him and feels like she won’t be able to survive without him. Which is why tonight must be perfect.

Tonight she will give herself to him and prepare herself for her imminent death.

“I think I like your gin better when I taste it on you, mi amor.” She says breathlessly after kissing him like she might never taste the too sweet gin ever again.

“Should’ve brought a bottle of it, I bet it tastes better on you too. Maybe next time.” He said and emphasized his next words with kisses on her neck. “Next time I’ll lick it off your lips, your stomach, your tits.”

The world stops existing after that, Eva lets herself enjoy how good his mouth feels as he guides her to the pretty Victorian couches he first held her on as she mourned her family and peace of mind.

Forget there won’t be a next time.

Eva doesn’t know if the tears she wants to shed are because she aches for him or because this time she doesn’t want to die.

“Not the couch, you said the first time you fuck me has to be in a real bed.” She reminds him when his lips come back to hers and she fights the urge to tear his shirt open and kiss the sunburst on his heart.

They’ve danced this dance before, but something always stops them from the point of no return. Tonight, the witch is determined to finish the dance and know the love of a good man before she is executed for her crimes.

“Witch.” He says ,but lets her guide him upstairs.

She makes no noise, a lifetime of sneaking out and dancing en pointe had made soundless walking a habit.

First time he came to her bed, he said she looked like she was floating on air.

His shirt is off as are his shoes by the time they make it to her bed.

They know the song, they know the steps, and as always, the interruption catches them just when it was getting good.

They are panting heavily as he leads her through the beginning of this dance and his rough hands are just about to pull her nightgown off her when her grandmother wakes up across the hall.

“I heard a noise, Evie, sweetheart.” Her grandmother says to her locked door.

“Oh, I just had a bad dream, nanna. I must’ve tripped on my shoes.” Eva tries to catch her breath and tries not to fall as she climbs off her lover to assure her granny nothing was happening.

“Go to her,” Tommy mouths as he sits back.

----

“I am so sorry about that, normally she sleeps like the dead." she apologized as if it were her fault her grandmother had almost caught them.

And yet, old Mrs. Smith didn’t see a half-naked Tommy on her granddaughter’s bed. The old woman would have died and taken him with her if she had seen him sitting with his back to the bed board only wearing his trousers.

He wants her badly, aches for her just as he knows she aches to be with him, but neither wanted to risk her grandmother waking up again.

They haven't fucked, they barely had privacy or time to kiss let alone fuck, but soon enough they wouldn’t have to worry her grandmother, or, worse, Finn asking why he had his hand under her skirt at the pictures.

“Something is bothering you, love.” Tommy doesn’t ask, if he asked, she could choose to lie about it, so instead he makes a simple observation.

If he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have to confront her about it and they could talk this out like rational adults.

“I might have to go back to my country.” she doesn’t look at him and sighs, Eva doesn’t like pity, she’d had enough of it after her family died.

“Your solicitation was denied.” He could pretend he didn’t know, but Tommy had seen the rejection letter perhaps two hours before it was delivered to her grandmother’s home.

That had been enough time to make an appointment with a jeweler in Birmingham and make sure they had enough drinks at the pub. Eva would choose her ring tomorrow morning and after that they’d celebrate their engagement at the Garrison.

“You already knew then.” She moves quiet like a cat and almost silently climbs back into her bed with him. The bedsprings make no sound even when she comes and sits on his lap. Tommy swears Jack must’ve had someone put a curse on the bed because it only made noise when they tried to fuck.

“One of the boys stole your correspondence and showed me the rejection letter. I gave him a thrashing instead of the shilling he asked for before sending Charlie to make sure he returned it to the post man.” Tommy couldn’t keep secrets from her. Came with the Second Sight, or so she had told him.

“My cousins have told me the government has been discreetly killing people who were part of the rebel armies. I thought I was safe here, but ---.” Eva admits and he interrupts her. She could ask him to save her, but she doesn’t. If it were up to her and her damn pride, Eva would be on a boat back to Mexico to never been seen again before asking someone to help her.

“The best way to become a British Subject is to get married to one, love.” Tommy interrupts with his suggestion and only logical solution to her problem.

“I can’t take your freedom just to save my own skin, Tom.” She looks at him, almost angry that he would even suggest that she exploit his feelings for her to stay in Small Heath. Most women he has been with wouldn’t have hesitated to take his offer, but Eva, much like Greta once upon a time, wasn’t the type to use a man for her personal gain.

“No one could force me into anything I don’t want, Evie.” He smiles, reminding her she wouldn’t be marrying any man, she’d be the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders.

“Then ask me”, she says as if he wouldn’t be able to get her to say yes.

“Miss Eva Smith---,” Tommy starts and doesn’t get very far.

“No, It’s Eva Smith-Riley, Mexicans use both last names.” She corrects him as her hands move from his chest to the buttons on his trousers. Teasing him as if he wasn’t already close to ruining his clothes.

“Fine, Miss Eva Smith-Riley, will you—” his groans. If it weren’t for her hesitancy to take things further, Tommy would have thought she’d done this before. “Will you put me out of my misery and marry me?”

“You make it sound as I’m torturing you.” Eva teased as she continued her slow torture of him. His witch would drive him out of his mind before he could get the damn words out of her wicked mouth.

“Every second you draw this out is torture, Evie.” Thomas plays with the hem of her bunched-up nightgown on the top of her thighs before slowly lifting it up. He likes the contrast the white cotton dress makes against her tanned skin and dark hair, but Tommy would enjoy the sight of her more if the nightgown was on the floor.

“A witch naked in the moonlight is a dangerous thing, Thomas Shelby.” She laughs softly and lifts her arms so he can pull it over her head and toss it aside. The way she says his name makes him want to risk the wrath of her family and take her despite the noise her bed springs made.

“You haven’t answered my question, Eva.” He reminds her. Even if she refused to marry him now, Tommy knows Jack Smith won’t let her refuse after tonight.

“Ask me again, and maybe I’ll give you an answer, love.” Eva smiled wickedly as she unfastened his trousers. Other men would feel emasculated but letting their woman take the lead, but Thomas Shelby wasn’t like any other man.

“Will you marry me, Eva?” he asks again relishing the feeling of her naked body pressed against his.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Tom.” She kissed him to confirm her words. With only the moonlight as their witness, Thomas Shelby became her first and Eva Smith became his last.

----

“I love you.” She kissed him again like this is just the beginning of a new life. A new life with him where he won’t leave her alone in this bleak world.

“I know.” He pressed his forehead against hers as her hands slowly trailed his chest, stomach and undid the button on his trousers. “I love you too.”

This part she knew, she knew how to make Tommy come undone with her hands. To rub him from tip to base like there was nothing more wonderful than her lover’s cock.

Always at a slow and torturous pace, no ones chasing them, no need to take things too fast.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel ready.” He struggled to make the words come out of his lips even if he’s been saying that sentence forever.

“But I want to, I want you so badly, Tommy.” Eva said as she let him explore her body and drive her mad with passion for him.

It's no wonder why women here are insane for him, Tommy’s too good at this. His rough hands are enough to have her lose all coherent thoughts.

There is only him, his fingers in her cunt as he prepared her with promises of forever. His mouth whispering praises on her hot skin, telling her how good she feels, how no woman he’s had compares to his witch, how he won’t ever want anyone who isn’t her.

Eva’s still feeling the high of her pleasure when she is faced with the edge of the precipice.

This time she jumps.

This time she lifts her hips and he guides his cock inside her.

It hurts, even with all the pleasure he’s given her with his fingers there is a sweet pain as he fills her and claims her.

“Evie, love, you feel so good.” He groans into her neck as her nails dig into his back as her body adjusts to his.

And so the real dance begins.

His grip is tight on her hips as she lifts hers and tentatively lowers herself on him again.

It feels good, impossible good and the knowledge that it will get even better has her seeing stars.

She moans out his name a little too loudly, forgetting they’re supposed to be quiet. But she can’t, it feels too good to remember restraint.

“Tommy, oh god, Tommy.” That’s all she can articulate as he his hips rise to meet hers as she rides him.

It feels better than anything she’s done before. For her first time, its perfect. He’s perfect, makes her feel like she’s a goddess being worshipped.

Screw the sweat, the creaking if her old bed, the incoherent noises she’s making as he fucks her.

“I’m close, Evie, I want to finish inside you. Just this once, love.” Its punctuated with hard upward thrusts and all she can do is nod against his shoulder.

Doesn’t matter anyways, they’ll get married soon enough and it won’t matter if she’s pregnant out of wedlock.

Tommy kisses her, mouth, neck, collarbone, and even her breasts as he goes in deeper and harder inside her as his hand went between her legs and swallowed her cries with his mouth as they came together.

“You’re mine, Eva, mine and no one else’s.” He is panting, they both are as they come down from heaven itself.

“Yeah, I’m yours, mi vida.” she says feeling

She asks him once she gotten most of her bearings straight, “Can I say the same about you?”

“Let me take my pants off and I’ll show you.” He says with a grin.

-----

“I don’t scare you, don’t I?” He asked her, just minutes before dawn would come. He needed to leave, but she didn’t want him to go.

Besides it doesn’t matter anyways, they’re engaged and it really save them time if Linda Matthews were to catch them here when she comes for her shift at seven o’clock sharp.

Last night he had made her his, made her feel like she had touched heaven and tasted it in his lips.

Eva wants to taste it again and again. He was as addicting as the opium he used to smoke.

No wonder Grace was hoping he’d be the type to forgive her, all men fall short of this Adonis in her bed.

“Could never scare me, amor de mi vida.“ Eva had been with a woman, but never with a man. She won’t ever be with any man who wasn’t Tommy, she knows it for sure.

“I’ve killed people, Evie.” He says as if that was reason enough.

“So have I, Tom.” She reminds him.

“I’m a criminal,” he tries again.

“So am I, just because I don’t get my hands dirty doesn’t make what my family does any less illegal.” She reminds him again.

If he knew that the bounty on her head was worth more than this house, Eva wonders if he’d look at her the same.

He wouldn’t, her Thomas would never do that.

“Your family might not like me.” He traced her lower lip with his thumb.

“Fuck them if they can’t see what great man you are.” She says propping herself up on his chest. “I’m yours, I won’t be anyone else’s.”

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #oc fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #smut #minors dni #very weird to write sex as an ace person lol

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monstrous-tournament · 1 year

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Call for Witches!

Hey everyone! The poll I made, for which bracket to start with, was won by the Igors, and that bracket has already started - but I'm already thinking of the next bracket, and that's going to be Witches, the second-most voted-for option.

I'm thinking of two separate brackets here: actual witches, and side characters from Witches novels (if there's interest in the latter). For the Actual Witches Bracket, under the rule of "main protagonists are Big Wukwuks", I'm gonna bench not just Granny Weatherwax and Tiffany Aching, but Nanny Ogg, Magrat Garlick, and Agnes Perdita Nitt too. Which, I think, makes for a more interesting bracket! Here are the witches that I'm currently thinking of pitting against each other:

Evadne Cake

Eskarina Smith

Erzulie Gogol

Lucy Tockley (aka Diamanda)

Lily Weatherwax (aka Lilith Tempscire)

Annagramma Hawkin

Perspicacia Tick

Sarah "Granny" Aching

Geoffrey Swivel

Petulia Gristle

Eumenides Treason

Miss Level

Desiderata Hollow

Mrs. Proust

Letitia Keepsake

Lucy Warbeck

This is 16, a very lovely number for a bracket (which has to have a 2^n number of contestants), so I'm tempted to leave it at that.

My rules for including these and not others:

has to still be around; characters only mentioned as having been a witch in the past don't count

has to actively take part in the story (which is why I have Granny Aching in here even though she's officially dead; she does have an interaction with Tiffany); cameos or one-liners don't count as such

named as witch in the L-Space wiki

But like I said, if you want to nominate others on top of these above, let me know - we might have to have an elimination round before the bracket, then, to bring the number back to 16.

#monstrous tournament #bracket prep #call for witches #witches bracket #not a bracket

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damien-wolfram-art · 8 months

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Lay Down Your Arms

“Sasuke,” Naruto mused. “Where are you now?” His feet felt heavy and the blizzard around him whipped his face, making it feel raw. “Don’t you give up on me…” He huffed a painful breath, clutching his chest. “I’m…coming…”

His vision blurred and he stumbled in the thick blanket of snow that came up to the knees of his orange pants. “How are you feeling right now?” He thought. “Does it hurt you as much as it does me?”

The storm surrounding him was the worst he’d ever seen. Was it a jutsu? It felt as if someone was trying to keep him from Sasuke. He wouldn’t let them.

“Itachi…you got your revenge on him. You lived for that revenge, but,” he recalled the man who claimed to be Madara Uchiha and his story about Sasuke’s brother. “If that was true. If he really was just following orders…your revenge…it must have left you feeling so…empty.”

Naruto hadn’t noticed but his fingers and toes had lost feeling long ago. Paradoxically, he’d removed his tan snow cloak a while back because his shivering had stopped as well. “Now, I hear you want revenge on The Leaf. Is that true?” He struggled to take a step in the heavy snow so he channeled a chakra stream to his feet to keep him on top of it; it was shaky at best, but he wouldn’t let that get to him. “I’ll just have to ask you when I find you. Afterall, you’ve pissed a lot of people off y’know?” He let out a short bitter laugh and lost his footing, falling onto the surface of the snow with a grunt.

His arms shook when he attempted to raise himself and he noticed his fingers looked a little blue against the snow. His heart ached again, and he fell once more; this time he rolled onto his side. “The Land of Lightning, Gaara, Granny, the other Great Nations, even Sakura,” he contemplated each in vivid detail as he struggled to breathe. “They all want you…dead…”

He closed his eyes, thinking it would only be for a moment, but he didn’t know how cold he was, nor could he sense his slowing heart. “I don’t want to lose you,” he ruminated in the darkness of his mind. Before he knew it, he’d slipped away into unconsciousness, his body reflexively gasping for breath.

When he woke, it had been over a week. He was laying on the ground of a fangtooth enclave somewhere still in The Land of Iron. There was a fire burning about three meters from him.

He moaned, feeling a horrible stinging in his limbs when he tried to move them, “Hrmhgh…what the… what’s going on?”

“You’re awake? About damn time, loser,” said a voice much deeper than his own.

“Huhn?”

“You are there aren’t you?”

Naruto moved his head slowly in the direction of the voice. Who he saw caught him off guard. The form sulking in the shadows of the fire was all too familiar. From the midnight blue disorderly growing hair, to the red clouded cloak, to the cold dark eyes peering back at him, there was no mistaking it. “Sasuke?” He barely managed to vocalize.

“Hn. You’ve seen better days,” Sasuke teased his former teammate half-heartedly. In truth, Naruto was looking terrible. Sasuke had stumbled across his nearly frozen body coincidentally. Ironically, it was Naruto’s discarded cloak that had led the Uchiha to him. For over a week, Sasuke had watched over him. He had dragged his rigid form back to a makeshift shelter, kept him warm, and nursed his frostbite as best as he could, but a part of Sasuke didn’t believe that Naruto would ever wake. He’d been healing, but his body was wasting away without food.

Naruto was awake though and he was eager to chat. Ignoring the pain in his limbs, he rocketed up, nearly screaming, “Ah! Sasuke! Wh-where’s Kakashi Sensei and Sakura?”

“How should I know?”

“Huh? You don’t…” A wave of dizziness came over the blond and he wavered.

Sasuke caught him. “Take it easy, idiot,” he warned, handing Naruto a bamboo canteen.

Naruto drank. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. When he was sated, the canteen was empty and he began to talk again, “I know the truth about Itachi.”

Sasuke tensed, moving away from Naruto who barely remained upright. “What you’ve been doing,” Naruto continued. “I get it, Sasuke.”

Sasuke sucked his teeth. “Naruto, you couldn’t possibly get it.”

This conversation repeated itself over and over. Each day they were trapped, Naruto got a little closer to sharing his feelings with Sasuke and each day his body grew weaker. Naruto swore to save Sasuke from revenge and the chaos caused by it, but stubbornly, Sasuke denied Naruto at every turn. He was worried however, that whatever jutsu had trapped them and was blocking anyone from finding them would kill them before Naruto could come close to saving him.

The wind howled for days more. The two survived on melting snow for water although the both of them were getting thin. Naruto tried once more to connect with Sasuke, “Y’know, Sasuke, one bad move and I coulda been like you.” Sasuke shifted; though his back was turned to Naruto, he was listening. “Back in the day…the whole village hated me because of the Ninetails that’s inside of me and I hated them right back. I thought about getting revenge on everyone too. I almost gave in.” Naruto grabbed at his stomach and groaned, interrupting his thought, “Man am I starvin’!”

He wasn’t lying. Naruto couldn’t hold a conversation without bringing up food anymore. Sasuke was starving too.

“Where was I?” Naruto rolled onto his back spreading his weak arms out on the cool ground. “Oh right! I sure feel better knowing that you’re here with me y’know? We’re more similar than yer given credit. Just a couple o’ brats dealing with way more stuff than we should have to. Guess that’s why I wanna talk to you so much. I feel sort of giddy because I feel like we can finally start to understand each other. I guess Sasuke, in that way…reaching you has been my goal.”

After all that talking, Naruto was tired again. “Hey,” he whispered. “No matter what happens…I’m really glad that I got to know you…”

Sasuke sighed in relief when he heard the signature snore of his talkative friend. He’d hate to admit it, but he was getting to him. If he’d stayed awake, he’d probably have lied to him; he’d have told him something cryptic and threatening. He was grateful for not having to. If they were really going to die there, then the last thing Sasuke wanted was to shatter the bond the idiot was trying to reform on his deathbed.

He considered if it would be a fitting end for the both of them, but his mind screamed, “No!” Then, he drew his blade and did the unthinkable. He turned it on himself.

When Naruto woke up next, it was to the scent of something like pork cooking on the fire. Sasuke stoked the flames with only his right arm. It looked painful.

“No way. You caught something?!” Exclaimed Naruto, drooling. He noticed Sasuke having a hard time serving though so he went at it on his own. “Ya didn’t get hurt hunting did ya? Hehehe! This looks great!”

“Shut up and eat. Idiot,” Sasuke ordered, refusing to explain any further. The two’s paths would not end in that cave. Sasuke had made sure of that. He flinched, feeling a ghost pain where his left arm once was while watching Naruto tear graciously into what he had prepared for him. He too would have to eat to survive. At least that way he would be able to chew over what Naruto had told him and decide his next steps.

I'm late! I'm late! To a very important date! *Catching up!*

@narutokinktober

@bitchbot3000

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dimity-lawn · 1 year

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Is Granny Aching some sort of local shepherd goddess?

In Wintersmith it's stated that "the stories floated up and gathered around her, all those stories about her finding lost lambs even though she was dead, all those stories about her, still, watching over people…"

In Small Gods, didn't Om say that his first believer was someone who he'd returned a lamb/ewe/goat too?

If one believer was enough to make Om and set him on the path to godhood, what could the people of the chalk do?

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #thought(s) from yours truly #the gods #the chalk #granny aching #sarah aching #aching clan #belief on the disc #wintersmith #small gods

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renee561 · 1 year

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What Do The Flowers Mean?

For @sarahtarth for her birthday (sorry it's late but life happened)! Happy birthday lovely.

Granny x female oc, background RedCricket. No one is straight in this fic.

Moodboard here.

Enjoy!

—————

Florists would tell you there was a flower for every occasion. From birth to death, there is a flower to honor every. single. one.

The major occurrences such as births, weddings, anniversaries, funerals.

Flowers to say get well, get better, to send condolences for a passing.

Flowers given by your husband to apologize through flowers for when you fought, when he eventually cheats…again. Given on your wedding day when you married him, when he died.

There were the first date single roses, and the just because daisies.

Each one, a mark of yet another day passing through a very long life.

In her golden years, Lucille thought she would have grown old with someone, either one of her two spouses, but death seemed to have a wicked, and perhaps a bit of cruel sense of humor.

Both spouses dead, she has been a widow longer than she had ever been a wife—of either of her two marriages. Raised two children alone, one of her womb and the other—the other of her daughter's after Lucille buried her child.

She grew two successful businesses, and in the past month business had grown, more regulars, and changes to her once unchangeable small town.

But the emptiness in her bed remained the same.

She wasn't looking for someone to warm her the cold sheets besides her, she didn't have the time nor patience for the nonsense of modern dating. She saw how her granddaughter jumped from bed to bed and Lucille tried to understand and wished Ruby would open her damn eyes and see a good match waiting in the wings for her.

But alas the youth were more blind then the old, and Lucille's health, while not the same as it once was, was at least better then six months ago.

The red tulips next to her nightstand when she woke from her triple-bypass, a rather startling surprise as she knew Ruby would not think to give her such a gift.

They fought too much for Ruby to think she only complained about her sleeping habits because Lucille disproved. And she did, but she only wanted her only grandchild happy, which no matter how much Ruby said she was fine, those empty green eyes told a different story altogether.

They were the same eyes that stared back at Lucille in the mirror, albeit younger and without the number of crow's feet and lines, but the same bleak emptiness shown through.

The bright tulips brought joy to Lucille, tulips were at least pretty to look at, much better than roses. And a warmth she ignored, for who would know that tulips were one of her favorite flowers?

———

She rubbed at her aching head, her fingers trying to massage away a headache that has been prevalent since lunch.

She ate…maybe—no, she remembers the sandwich and the roll for dinner.

It has been a rough night, short staffed with Ruby at the mines. hard to imagine the fright of the news of the collapsed mine shaft with Archie and little Henry being trapped in such an unstable condition.

Of course Ruby called to keep her updated on the rescue mission and the gossip that Miss Swan decided to put roots down in this small town at last.

She liked Emma. She wished the ordnance had allowed her to not kick out her only guest at the B&B for months. Sometimes it did not pay to be a small town with little through traffic. But the law unfortunately was in charge of the mayor, whom the citizens of Storybrooke did elect.

So much for democracy when that fire breathing harpy acts more like a raging c—

"Are you ok, Mrs Lucas?" A soft angelic voice whispered.

She felt her eyes crack open though it was a challenge as her headache seemed to get worse and not better.

There before her was the owner of the little nursery on the edge of town, she supplied Moe, the florist with the beautiful flowers he sold, and everyone else with seeds for their gardens.

"Bloody fantastic, Mrs Carver, just bloody fantastic," she snipped as she felt her heart accelerate and her breath catch and she was sure that had little to do with her raging headache.

The woman was beautiful. Long graying hair, very few lines of stress and age, but her hazel eyes were kind and filled with pity—no not pity— concern.

"You know we divorced years ago, Lucille."

"And my husband has been dead a very long time, as has my other spouse— therefore we need not remain on formalities, Joan, but you always seem to revert to such first."

A grumpy woman, who once loved a man, and a woman equally and her heart, traitorous organ it was, found itself longing for someone else she could not have.

Marco had already stolen this woman's heart and Lucille doubts Joan would be into a grumpy old widow with a granddaughter that couldn't figure out what she wanted let alone whom. The stigma associated with Ruby's sleeping habits, known as the town's harlots behind her back and sometimes to Lucille's own face, sometimes irked even her own issues with the matter.

"Indeed. I hear everyone call you that, that I forget our agreement to not have such formalities. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, I was walking back from the mines and saw the light still on. The door was even open and I took the liberty of turning the sign for you."

She was unreal, this beautiful and kind woman. Lucille was grumpy, some even called her the dragon behind her back. Her body may be failing her from time to time but her hearing…still sharp as ever.

Except she hadn't heard the door ding.

Maybe the pain got to her.

"Thanks, Joan. It's nice to see you. It's been…some time."

5 months and 22 days since Lucille returned to work after her surgery and there was Joan with Marco having lunch, and his hand covering hers, signaling to Lucille that they were in fact a couple. After all, whenever she saw Marco he couldn't stop telling her all of Joan's good qualities, as if Lucille hadn't observed most of them herself over the years and through the short conversations they've had.

Joan, while not adverse to people unlike Lucille, she preferred to tend her garden then be around others. Somedays that sounded idyllic to her. Have a place with a garden to tend and not have to worry about the rent to Mr Gold. As far as she knew Joan was one of the very few to not rent from the town's landowner.

Joan smiled, her face angled slightly down as she seemed embarrassed.

"It has. I've been meaning to come back after Marco assured me you were fine, I just got involved with the plants. Several of them died due to the frost we had last winter and I've been trying a new fertilizer and unfortunately speaking…it permeates everything for days when it's fresh."

She nodded and she could imagine the work Joan had to put in knowing last winter was harsh.

"Marco is a dear man. Though some days I wish he wouldn't hover. I'm fine."

Her friend would ask her after her health before going into a traide about Joan's patience and caring hand.

Joan looked at her sharply and with a sculpted brow, her eyes narrowed.

"You ate something today, yes?"

"Yes. Coffee for breakfast. A sandwich for lunch and…a roll for dinner."

Joan frowned deeply.

Lucille knew she was about to be mothered, as she watched Joan open her mouth, she interrupted—"I'll eat something more when I'm back at the B&B. I still have to close up and Ruby is not here…still at the mines I'm sure."

She wasn't sure if Ruby hadn't gone home to someone else's bed.

"I'll help! And maybe you could fix us a drink in your secret stash and maybe I could save the lecture on eating better for the next time I see you?"

There was a sternness but Joan's teasing smile caused Lucille to let her "I'm fine" be swallowed and let Joan have her way.

Just this once.

"Sure. Take the rag and start wiping down tables, while I get the bourbon."

She didn't say she wouldn't mind the lecture on better eating habits…tomorrow morning after Joan had spent the night.

She stopped having breakfast after Linda died, she wasn't much for eating a morning meal alone. Or any meal for that matter, but most of her meals were taken just like that.

At least she wouldn't be drinking alone tonight.

Joan hummed softly under her breath as she wiped down the tables, some pop tune she couldn't place, stacking the condiments on one of them, Lucille Lucas thought herself an old woman. A very foolish one indeed.

——

Irises have never been her favorite flowers, Luthor used to give them to her after their fights, after he would come home drunk, or when he needed forgiving for another of her bruises, another woman in their bed, or just because he was an ass that couldn't keep his temper in check.

He was always apologizing for something.

His mother, the cunt, had

Irises on his coffin. His young widow and three year old toddler stood at his coffin's edge, Anna crying hysterically while all Lucille could remember was feeling the chains that bound her to him break free as the mahogany was lowered into the ground.

Linda was thankfully allergic to flowers so it saved Lucille from having to explain why she didn't care for the tradition of flower giving.

It was pointless and pathetic.

But these were both painful and curious as the handwriting was unfamiliar to her. The card's only words were "from a Secret Admirer".

She rolled her eyes and separated the bouquet to accent the dinner tables and booths, put the rest in a smaller vase to put on the little table between the bathrooms.

They were not permitted anywhere near her house.

Joan only quicked her brow at the decor when she walked in carrying some daisies in her hand.

"I see someone beat me to the punch," she teased gently as she handed Lucille the daisies that were colorful and to some plain but to her, made her chest beat wildly and she worried it would skew the results of her pacemaker.

Dr Whale will definitely ask her about that.

Lucille smiled softly.

"These are better than those garish things. Luthor used to give them after—never liked them. Tolerated them because what else was I supposed to do? Divorce him?"

Joan smiled awkwardly.

"Sorry, I'm just not used to someone giving me flowers and saying they're an admirer of me."

She was nothing to look at, in her youth perhaps, but not now.

"Oh?" Joan questioned with a furrow of her brow.

Lucille nodded sagely.

"I like these much better, thank you."

Joan smiled but it was only half-hearted.

"I have to go, I can't stay. Big order to fill, Lucille. Hopefully it won't take as long as last time but you know—" she waved her hand like a magician.

All encompassing and with a twist of her wrist.

She nodded stiffly and she cursed her loose tongue.

"Of course. See you around then?" It was perhaps foolish of her to hope but hope sometimes was all one had sometimes.

Joan smiled softly, "Of course."

She left and was gone.

—-

Flowers kept showing up, the same unfamiliar handwriting, roses of different colors, bright chrysanthemums, more tulips red and pink all signed by the secret admirer.

The flowers appeared steadily, once a week, and she was running out of room to put them.

The only other thing that made it terribly worth wild to her and less of a grump about the scent, was that Ruby began seeing Dr Hopper…socially after she thought the roses were for her and Lucille wasn't going to let the chance slip by to make sure her granddaughter was taken care of by perhaps the only good man left in this town barring Marco.

She did see Joan occasionally, but her tongue always twisted when the woman sat at her barstool eyeing her with a piercing stare trying to ask about the flowers and if she had any idea who sent them?

She didn't, but only shrugged and changed the subject.

At times she wished it was Joan, and then she would berate herself for such foolishness as she asked Moe when he came by to deliver them if it was a woman. Moe was as good for information as Gold was for leniency.

Especially after Gold beat Moe within an inch of his life for some reason, neither would disclose it to her. Which was fine, she didn't really thrive on the gossip but it was interesting that for a man as Gold to do such a thing himself it had to be deeply personal.

Lucille could respect privacy.

Except that the flowers didn't give others the same respect, for the questions were ceaseless, especially Ruby, who did find out that Archie had not sent the initial roses to Ruby or to Lucille.

That had been a bit concerning to watch, as Lucille braced herself for rejection once more from her only descendant.

Mother Superior even looked with her pinched lips in displeasure when Joan had presented Lucille some lilies with a radiant smile as a thank you.

She was not sure if the sister thought it was sinful for two women to love each other, most of the town did not know Lucille's last spouse was a woman or if it was that the sister started sneezing because of allergies and left directly.

She didn't care for the woman much, in fact she only allowed the sister to eat here because she was a customer other than that they did not bother each other.

Even Gold had something to say about the flowers, remarking on his observation that Joan seemed out of sorts when he saw her talking to Moe the other day. She tried to ask Joan about it, mentioning only that someone saw them arguing.

She hasn't seen Joan since.

She kept the light on later hoping to see Joan again, alone with no customers. Except it's been a week and she thinks she was playing herself for a fool.

She rubbed her face. It's been a strenuous day, having to comfort her granddaughter after she woke early from a night terror about finding a seemingly dead woman out by the trash the other day and with Mrs Nolan alive, Mary Margaret was free at last. They had a party at Mary Margaret's the next day.

"You know if I didn't know any better I think you do that just to lure me over with concern for you, Luce," the soft angelic voice whispered.

That damn bell was either broken or Lucille was losing her hearing.

She looked up to see the woman wrapped comfortably in a wool sweater, and a baby blue scarf wrapped around her neck.

Her cheeks were rosy and eyes bright with concern.

"Stressful week. You heard about Kathryn being alive and Mary Margaret freed?"

Joan nodded and tugged at her scarf but only to keep it casually laying on her shoulders, her hair pinned in a half updo.

Lucille looked back to her accounts as to not be caught staring at the neck of the woman she knew smelt like pine, flowers and dirt. They shouldn't smell good to her, but they did.

"You seem a bit quiet tonight, did I upset you?"

Joan did but it wasn't Joan's fault. It was Lucille's that she grew foolish feelings for a straight woman.

It was pride to not admit that though, and more than a little self-preservation.

"Not particularly, I'm a grumpy old woman, Joan. Let me be grumpy and not think you're at fault for it. How's Marco doing? I haven't seen his hide in here for ages."

She needed to remind her to not fall in love with a woman straighter than a pencil and in a relationship to boot.

Joan snorted as she took a seat at the bar and placed her chin on her hands.

"Same as always. Wrapped up in a project or other. I haven't seen him much, though nor has Archie. He got a new assistant, the young man that was talking to Ruby about Lemurs or something. She saw me the other day with Archie, a sweet man, a little odd but I think he'll do her good. Mother Superior on the other hand told me that they were all wrong for one another because of Ruby's past."

Lucille growled in her throat and curled her hand around her pen tightly.

"Told the bint to save her holier than thou preachings for someone who has the time or patience for them, which i do not. Besides, between us—" here Joan leaned a little closer and Lucille could smell fresh dirt and the scent of pine on her.

"I have always thought she was a bit of a hypocrite. It's why I never attended her services, despite her always asking me why I never come. We don't agree on things about what is sin and what is not. Besides Ruby, despite her dubious choices, is a good person. She'll be good with Archie and Archie loves her. Love shouldn't be tainted by such a narrow minded nun."

The way she was defending Ruby, with such bright eyes and deep conviction of her words made her want to push her luck.

But love was for the foolish…and for the young.

Lucille nodded, "I never liked her, she's only allowed here on the condition there is no preaching her nonsense. I stopped attending church the moment my husband was put in the ground. Anna, Ruby's mother, was three."

Joan smiled knowingly.

"I'm sure Marco and you discuss these things together, after all it must be pretty weird for him to see his best friend dating your granddaughter considering you two are seeing each other."

"No, we're not dating. He's not the type of man to cheat on a woman. He is a one woman at a time gentleman," she said defensively, her eyes meeting the shocked hazel eyes of the woman she wished she was dating.

"Of course he is, I never thought otherwise!" Now Joan's eyebrows puckered in confusion, her nose squishing up, her head tilting.

She shouldn't look adorable when she was confused but Joan was very much the definition of adorable in Lucille's opinion.

"Then if you're accusing him of cheating on you with me, then I think you think very little of us to do that to you." Hurt clouded her voice and her heart.

Hazel eyes looked at her and Joan's cheeks warmed and shook her head firmly,"We're not dating. Why would you think we were dating?"

"He never shuts up about you when he's here, tells me all your good qualities, and he likes to hold your hand."

She berated herself for possibly sounding jealous of such a thing.

Joan smiled and Lucille thought the woman was definitely an angel.

"I thought you two were keeping it hidden. He always comes into my nursery to praise you and frankly he's always been tactile since we were teenagers. I thought you were being…nice to me about it."

She blinked in confusion.

"Nice about what? I'm not sure nice would be something to describe myself."

Joan rolled her eyes but before she could answer, Ruby came in pulling Archie by the arm, the expression of surprise showing her that they just prevented some tomfoolery from happening in her restaurant as Ruby quickly dropped Archie's arm as if burned.

"Didn't realize you were still here, Gran. Saw the light and—oh hi, Joan. Thanks for the advice. See you at home. Gran. Bye, Joan."

She hog marched Archie over to the B&B next door.

She felt as if her eyebrows were deep in her hairline.

Joan giggled, holding her hand to her mouth and her eyes shone brighter.

"Advice?" She asked, turning her eyes to her…friend.

"I just told her that if she had a good thing with Archie to keep a hold of it. Happiness can be fleeting."

She nodded. Sound advice.

"Though I think she's not sure if you approve considering you never liked any of the others…according to her."

"I approve of Archie."

"No of them being serious so fast."

"I think it's about damn time, I don't want to know about their business, that's between them, but Ruby knows that I approve of Archie."

"But not them—"

"Not where I can hear it—no. Boundaries, Joan, boundaries. Besides, we'll be going to Mary Margaret's homecoming party tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?"

It wasn't a date, but she wished it was.

Joan looked at her for a few seconds before nodding.

"Yeah I would like that. I'll meet you there. I should go, Luce, it's getting late."

She nodded and watched Joan walk away.

Maybe one day I can ask her to stay.

It was a foolish notion.

—

"Do you even know what the flowers meant?" Joan asked, as she flipped through a leather bound book at the counter.

It seems this was now a regular occurrence, talking with Joan with the closed sign and Lucille eyes trying to not linger too long on the beauty in front of her.

"No. Didn't know they were supposed to mean anything." She said, lifting her drink to her lips, feeling the slight burn at the back of her throat.

Joan raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the book.

"Of course they mean something! It's why people send flowers in the first place! To communicate their thoughts in another secret language!"

She shrugged, and with some stress said, "I figured it was just a way to woo people not exactly saying a lot when your spouse gives you the same flower for every transgression he makes. Or the fact my wife was allergic, so flowers really weren't a big deal to me. I'm sure florists hate when people tell them to send a bouquet of language flowers to someone."

She paused in her task to take in Joan's expression, having never specifically stated outright she had once been married to a woman before. She doesn't think Joan would mind, but she was curious…and a little hopeful she wouldn't take it too bad.

Joan grinned and set down her book, looking at her with a piercing stare.

"I figured that out weeks ago. Also Marco mentioned something in passing that I wasn't sure to broach."

She clicked her tongue, the man gossiped worse than an old biddy sometimes.

"And what did Geppetti mention?"

"That the reason he talked us both up to the other was because he hoped it would…spur one of us to make a move, as he claims it. I thought him foolish of course, but the more I thought about it, you never mentioned your second spouse by name or gender, " the soft smile she gave her made her heart speed up and there was a moment of electricity as she looked at Joan's aged face and wondered if she was fine with it.

I will murder that carpenter, she thought with less venom and mostly annoyance.

Before she could say anything Archie came in with a fury on his face she never thought she'd see. Joan reached for her hand as she nearly reached under her bar for the old crossbow she had…for protection.

"Henry's in the hospital, in a coma."

Her heart dropped and she squeezed the hand holding hers.

Ruby came from the back and looked at her and then at Archie. There was something going on that she didn't understand, but she wasn't going to say anything.

"Is he ok? What happened?"

His eyes looked away from Ruby's and his shoulders tensed as he stood straighter and with a confidence she appreciated from him more so than his lack of backbone before.

"I don't know Emma hasn't told me."

Ruby stiffened and she looked at the two of them and wondered if her granddaughter really thought Emma Swan wanted Archie, when for years the only woman Archie Hopper could look at was Ruby.

"Maybe we should go see him this afternoon, Ruby?" She said, realizing Joan and her still held hands and pulled away slowly, not wanting to let go.

She was doomed but perhaps…she eyed the book laying innocently on the top of the counter.

"Can I borrow that? I wanted to make a message for Henry when he woke up."

She lied. It was going to be her one shot.

Joan's smile changed, it was stiff and different. But Lucille blinked and the smile was softer.

"Of course. Just make sure you return it, it was my mother's."

She nodded, their hands brushed over the cool leather.

"I'll take good care of it." She would and she hoped Joan would understand that she just didn't want to mean just the book.

Ruby cleared her throat loudly and Joan left with Archie.

"You've got it bad."

"And you're jealous of Emma, when that man hadn't kept his eyes off you for years, Ruby. He loves Henry as much as he would his own child. Emma is his friend, and you're his girlfriend."

"I'm not. He hasn't asked me. We're still not…actually dating."

She blinked and looked at the pained expression on her granddaughter's face.

"Then woman up and ask him first. He may be a man and it's not usually done, but neither is falling in love against the odds."

"You're not talking about me and Archie?"

"I am. Ruby, you have an incredible heart, but sometimes I think you see yourself as less and for years you projected that into the world and the world took it and ran with it. Now there is someone who has always seen you as more, as someone worth more than someone to sleep with, and you're assuming that he'll change his mind now that he has. You haven't scared him off yet…and perhaps it's not just you that thinks they're unworthy."

Ruby looked away, "We haven't actually. He wasn't ready, and wanted to take things slow. But what if—"

"Then tell him. You're lucky that he's different but it's scary when it's actually real isn't it?"

Scared green eyes met her own, before they dropped to the book in hand.

"That wasn't for Henry was it?"

She smirked. "No, being in love is scary, even for old grumpy ladies, Ruby. But as Joan said, if you find happiness, never let it go because it is fleeting."

Ruby nodded and taking off her apron stormed outside and she shook her head at her grandchild.

"Head of stone that one. Now, little book, let us see what secrets you hide."

——

Joan stopped by the diner, that same afternoon, only an hour, her fingers brushing the card she memorized. it came to her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, yellow and pink roses, pink chysymthams, red tulips, and lilies.

My love for you is like a flower, ever changing, ever growing. LL

Her heart had stopped and she wondered if Lucille had found out somehow. She had never been one for love, her divorce was messy and unclear in her mind, but the only thing she knew was that she admired one from afar, and she stayed away for the same reason.

Knowing you're in love with someone is different then speaking of that love to them, especially when you think they're dating your best friend and first love, and straight.

Being bisexual was hard for her, as she didn't know the term for it until she was browsing the internet one day trying to understand these feelings. Marco had laughed at her and told her he knew already, he's known for a long time. It didn't bother him they never ended up together but that he was very very happy for her after her messy divorce.

It just goes to show how bad a wingman her best friend was.

Ruby asked her if she liked her grandmother and she remembered her response being vague and about happiness. Ruby walked away confused, but somehow it helped whatever she had going on with Archie.

She trembled as she opened the door and she blamed it on the dropping temperatures.

Lucille looked from the book and blue-green eyes met hazel and she looked at the leather bound book that was her mother's.

"You got them then," it was definitely harsh to her ears.

"Yes," she muttered as she approached the counter, taking out the card and placing it between them as she took the seat closest to the edge of the counter as she always did.

"It was you, the flowers I mean." Lucille said, her tone accusing her of something.

She nodded and pressed her finger tips together.

"My divorce was messy and it's not clear on why we ever got married in the first place, but it ended terribly and I swore I wouldn't fall in love with another man again and I've kept my word. Because I didn't fall in love with a man. I fell in love with you."

She looked into shocked green eyes and she smiled at the way she had surprised the grumpy widow.

"They call it bisexual, being attracted to both men and women. Marco is a bad wingman, but he was the one that suggested the Irises, they're supposed to be for crushes and they're pretty, I didn't know the association for you when I came back with daisies both hoping you could figure it out and dreading that you had and rejected me. It didn't help that Marco talked about you endlessly and I convinced myself you were straight and with Marco and I was trying my best to be supportive."

"The red tulips by my bedside after the surgery was also you," it was soft and perhaps hopeful.

She nodded.

"It was careless of course and I had heard from Marco when you were supposed to be back to work, despite Doctor Whale's orders to the contrary, and there you were. Out of the hospital, pushing yourself too far."

"I thought you and Marco were together then," the soft reply and the book closed and pressed between them next to the card.

"No. We dated as teenagers, but no. I've been hoping that you would catch on, as I was not exactly subtle in my hints."

Lucille laughed gruffly and to some it would sound aggravating but she found it charming. She wanted this grumpy old lady, and she was worried she might have messed it up.

A soft, but aged hand laid directly on top of hers and held tightly.

"I thought it was wishful thinking because I'm a grumpy old widow with a crush and too old for this foolishness."

She rested her other hand on top of Lucille's, "Perhaps, but I still very much like to get to know this grumpy old widow as more than friends."

The way Lucille searched her eyes as if she doubted, made her pull a hand away and tapped the card, "I feel the same, I think part of me was afraid of being hurt and that's why I never wrote my name or gave more than subtle hints. But you're braver than I am."

The green eyes softened and a trembling hand brushed some hair out of her face. The gentle touch made her close her eyes, something nagging at her brain for it felt familiar, intimately familiar.

"Joan, I—"

A strange feeling hit her and a breeze on her neck tickled mysteriously and the auditable gasp from—Lucille?

She opened her eyes and there before her…looking not a day older.

Her wife.

Green eyes met Hazel shocked, confused, teary-eyed and fingers curled even tighter against each other. Joan pressed her hand over the hand still on her cheek, moving it to kiss the familiar band she had placed there back when they were young and newly married.

"I'm home, my love, I found a way home," she whispered softly as she used her thumb to stroke her wife's hand.

#flowers #once upon a time #granny lucas #joan oc #granny x oc #bibabes #older bi women loving older biwomen #pining #mutual pining #joan x granny #lucille is granny's name #marco is a bad wingman #but he loves them both #birthday fic #my fics #my writing #part of a longer thing i will someday write

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iris-sistibly · 2 years

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The Targ Talk (a review series): House of the Dragon episode 10 (Season finale)

Note: I've decided to write another post about MY overall thoughts about the first season of this show.

[🔥]

-That mother and son moment between Rhaenyra and Luke 😭 I love the queen as a mother, she is never hard towards any of her children. She always makes sure to be there every step of the way. On top all that, my heart aches because I know of the fate of Lucerys, it was a bittersweet moment between them and I will never be able to move on.

-The look on Daemon and Rhaenyra's face when they found out about Viserys' death was EVERYTHING!!! The queen's disbelief and the anger on the prince was *chef's kiss*

-Jacaerys standing up for his mother when Daemon was ignoring his wife, pretty much what Ser Harwin would have done if he was alive.

-Watching Rhaenyra give birth to Visenya while refusing the midwives' help, her pulling the baby out only to find out she was dead, cradling her little dead body, and finally wrapping her corpse while crying was so heart-wrenching! And she did all that on her own. Then the moment Daemon crowned her (with the same crown Viserys I donned), the grieving mother in her was put aside and she became a queen, and it all happened on the SAME FUCKING DAY!

Fun fact: After finding out about Viserys' death and Aegon's coronation, Rhaenyra went into labor. There she shrieked curses, calling down the wrath of the gods upon her half-brothers and stepmother, detailing the torments she would inflict upon them before they let them die. According to Mushroom, she cursed the child inside her, clawing at her belly as Maester Gerardys and her midwife were trying to restrain her and shouting, "Monster, monster, get out, get out, GET OUT!" (Source: Fire & Blood by George RR Martin)

-Speaking of the birthing scene, I love that part that when Rhaenyra was screaming in pain and Syrax was feeling it too 🥺

-I think the difference between the coronations of Aegon and Rhaenyra were night and day. Aegon was crowned in the Dragonpit, in the eyes of the commonfolk who had no idea who he really is and what kind of king he will be. Whilst his sister's coronation, although wasn't done traditionally, was witnessed by her family and the people who were loyal to her WHO, by the way knows what kind of a person she truly is.

-Daemon and Otto meeting at Dragonstone and Rhaenyra appearing with Syrax, and our queen once again preventing a bloody battle, I would love to see Daemon cut off Otto's head though.

Fun fact: It was Grand Maester Orwyle who went to Dragonstone and laid out Aegon's terms and conditions. Rhaenyra heard these terms in stony silence then asked Orwyle if he remembered her father to which he replied, "yes." Then the queen reminded him of who her father named as heir and questioned why Orwyle was serving Aegon. Some accounts say that Orwyle cited the Great Council of 101 as his reasons, then another source said that the dude peed himself while answering to Rhaenyra. Either way, Rhaenyra wasn't satisfied with his answer and stripped him off his chains and gave it to Maester Gerardys. (Source: Fire and Blood by George RR Martin)

-Hi Vermithor! Also, I love that High Valyrian song Daemon was singing.

-Aemond and Vhagar chasing Luke and Arrax was so intense! You can tell Lucerys was scared the shit out of his wits and Arrax sensed that Vhagar was a threat, soooo poor baby spit on granny's face and Vhagar has zero patience for younglings and there you have it. Anyhoo, this scene didn't fall any short of excitement. Oh, and I love Aemond's sapphire eye.

Fun fact: During the battle between Aemond and Lucerys, watchers on the castle walls saw distant blasts and heard a shriek cut the thunder. Then the two beasts were locked together, lighting crackling around them, since Vhagar was five times Arrax's size, so the battle could not have lasted long. Arrax fell, broken and swallowed by the waters of the bay. Then Lucerys' corpse washed up as well and Aemond plucked out his eyes and presented them to Lady Maris on a bed of seaweed. Some say that Vhagar swallowed Lucerys whole, and some claim that Luke survived the ordeal, swam to safety, but lost all his memories and lived out the rest of his days as a simpleminded fisherman. (Source: Fire & Blood by George RR Martin)

-Rhaenyra at the end. I had freaking goosebumps! The anguish, the anger, her eyes telling the audience: There is going to be blood. Her throwing away everything she promised to Viserys to keep the realm as one, and become the vengeful queen who wants nothing but to kill every living Hightower and their allies was AMAZING!

Fun fact: Rhaenyra collapsed when she heard of Luke's death. Joffrey swore vengeance against Aemond and Borros, only the intervention of Corlys and Rhaenys kept the boy from mounting his dragon at once. As the black council sat to consider how to strike back, a raven from Harrenhal arrived, "An eye for an eye, a son for a son," Prince Daemon wrote, "Lucerys shall be avenged." (Source: Fire & Blood by George RR Martin)

-Emma D'Arcy's performance from Rhae's first scene as an adult up to the last was top notch. Emma was able to pull-off Rhaenyra as a woman, a queen, a wife and mother. They are a living example that a talented actor is someone who can portray ANY character, be it a cis-man, woman or a member of the lgbtqia+ community. Y'all are hyping up Rhaenyra so much and I love her too, but let's also give credit to the person who worked so hard to deliver her character.

-That table lighting up was the coolest thing I've seen in this episode, it was so beautiful and it was like watching the opening of HotD. Whoever did that deserves a raise!

[Meh]

-Rhaenyra holding Lucerys' hand for the last time, I was like NOOOOOO MY QUEEN! It's a bad idea, let ravens do their thing. But alas, this boy's ending is tragic just like the rest of his family.

-So prior to episode 10's premiere, I've read a spoiler on twitter about the birthing scene when Rhaenyra was asking for Daemon to be beside her and this motherfucker chose to do something else other than be with his wife. Maybe it had to do with his trauma on Laena's difficult labor and eventual death, he has already seen his first wife and older brother in so much pain…perhaps he couldn't bear to witness such a horrifying incident as this. But like the rest of y'all, I fucking hate that he wasn't beside this wife when she needed him the most, and I curse whoever wrote and assassinated his character. Though, I am glad that they didn't cut the part when Daemon saw Rhaenyra cradling their dead babe, and then he went out and grieved on his own. HBO did him so dirty when they omitted the scene of him comforting his daughters.

-This is connected with what I've said earlier, despite everything that happened she tried her best to prevent bloodshed. But either way, neither the greens nor the blacks would yield to one another, and even if Luke didn't die, war was never out of the question. Like I said in my previous post, Aegon has already won the hearts of the commonfolk, her ascending the iron throne will never not be questioned or challenged. It was a painful reality Rhaenyra failed to acknowledge at first due to her desire to reign in peace (I have nothing against it though, but you get the point).

[WTF]

-THE CHOKING SCENE WAS SO OUT OF PLACE! Daemon Targaryen is a murderer, a crazy bastard, and a ruthless warrior, but it's so fucking out of character of him to suddenly have an outburst simply because Rhaenyra didn't agree with what HE wanted, didn't know about the song of ice and fire, didn't take bullshits from prophecies, and Rhaenyra considering Aegon's terms and conditions (take note: she never said she would yield, but perhaps think of her own ways to negotiate with her brother). Most likely, Daemon would have acted on his own just like what he fucking did at the Stepstones (remember him refusing Viserys' help and did a one-man army stint instead?). I would have understood the banter between husband and wife, but again, there was no part in that conversation where him suddenly grabbing Rhaenyra's neck out of the blue was necessary. He would kill and harm anyone, but NEVER his family and NEVER RHAENYRA! I fucking hate the fact that they wrote Daemon in such a way that all of his redeeming qualities were diminished in a single fucking scene!

-I also hate that they did not include a scene from the book wherein Daemon vowed to avenge Lucerys for Rhaenyra. This character assassination is unforgiveable!

Fun fact: When Rhaenyra had her council meeting with the Blacks, Daemon AGREED with Rhaenyra to NOT be so rash about going into war (considering the number of dragon riders they had, and also considering the fact that one of their enemies' dragon is Vhagar). Daemon instead laid out his plans and strategies, he planned for the coronation of his wife (and he crowned her himself too), and called the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to declare allegiance to their true queen. Daemon himself said to "fight this war with words before we go to battle." (Source: Fire & Blood by George RR Martin)

Again HE NEVER CHOKED RHAENYRA! Whoever the fuck butchered his character deserves to be dracarys-ed!

-So…y'all are telling me, that being dumb runs in Alicent's family? That Aemond was just messing with Luke, and his death was an accident? The war started because of an accident…that is about the biggest bullshit I have ever seen all throughout this show so far.

Fun fact: When Lucerys Velaryon was escorted out of Borros Baratheon's palace, the second daughter of Lord Borros (Maris) who was angry with Aemond for preferring her sisters than her asked Aemond, "Was it one of the eyes he took? Or one of your balls?" her tone as sweet as honey, "I am so glad you chose my sister. I want a husband with all his parts." And that's when Aemond lost his shit and went after his nephew. (Source: Fire & Blood by George RR Martin)

#fire and blood #house of the dragon #hbo series #george rr martin #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #aemond targaryen #emma d'arcy #matt smith #harry collett #elliot grihault #ewan mitchell #3Ts

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thinkingofausername · 1 year

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The black year (a snippet)

(CHECK THE TAGS)

Three hundred and sixty five days. Three hundred and sixty five bodies. Three hundred and sixty five graves.

“The black year” ended five days ago, we hoped, having witnessed no new grief. They do say there’s a calm before the storm, but we’ve already drowned. Everyone walks grimy, shaky, frantic. We’re like beaten and starved alley cats, though we live in boarded homes. To think we brought refugees in, thinking the safe and warm star would shine for us when it’s died for others. If we survive and bring back the green, kids will be playing in a graveyard. If people ever forget the earth will remember.

“The reapers” are unseen. We’ve had to bury everyone who caught even a glimpse of them.

I keep saying “we” even though I’ve left them. They barely speak of me. Why mention a coward? So many killings and tears and survivors and I jumped off a roof. Some stupid, hopeful part of me thought I could find something on the other side and help the people home. I thought I was being brave, going where the reapers may reside.

I haven’t met anyone. You’d think it would be crowded here.

I see them all differently now. I think I’d keep watching over them even if they hated me. I don’t think they do now. Some are even jealous. I think some miss me.

They’re such fighters. They don’t think they are, they think they’re still alive by chance only, but I see it. They don’t want to die, they want to see better days, even when it feels the world’s got nothing kind left to give.

I talk to myself a lot. Used to, before, as well. I always tried to make my words, even thoughts, sound nice. I believe it matters how we speak. Stories are all that’s left of many people.

People always told me I couldn’t make my life a story. I should’ve listened. This story isn’t nice.

I’m not of flesh anymore. Perhaps I’m closer to the heavens and the wind. Maybe they’ll hear me. I want to talk about the people at home.

Abigail. She’s the golden girl, the achiever, the one everyone has a crush on, and the one who gets beaten at home. Beneath the bright silky locks and the ribbon around her neck there are prints of a hand.

Constance. She grew up in a brothel then turned to religion. She makes the best cherry pie. She doesn’t live in the brothel anymore, but she still goes there to help the girls. She doesn’t stay for long. Her thoroughly covered skin still aches and remembers and her chest feels too tight in that house.

Cody. He’s one of the refugees. He’s the sweetest little thing. Always looks sad. Has the biggest eyes and his very rare smile is tiny and guilty. He really likes apricots. He’s always in that dirty blue sweater.

Winston. A big, dark man. Gruff. Drinks, sells guns. He lost his wife and little girl, his only child, to the reapers. His hair is long and tangled and his empty eyes used to be the most beautiful thing his wife had ever seen. The smile lines on his face mock him.

Benny and Teddy. The ginger twins, jokers and secret geniuses. Their granny is terrifying. Her daughter birthed the boys when she was still very young and the father of the boys was never of much help. Granny chased him off. When her daughter died she took the boys in and wouldn’t let the wind touch them.

Curt. A rich daddy’s boy. He acts like a jerk, but he lost his little sister and his mother hasn’t spoken since. I think something happened to him when he was younger. You don’t come out of summer camp flinching.

Darcy. I saw her once and I fell in love. She has really short bangs, the left half of her hair is shorter than the right. Big brown eyes and thin lips. She hates crowds and loves animals. Her dad’s a preacher. He drinks and talks to his dead wife every night.

Lila. She’s my sister. She’s so beautiful and smart. Her hair and eyes can’t decide if they’re brown or red or violet. She paints really well. I regret what I did mostly because of her. Our parents have been gone since we were kids. I hate that she’s alone now.

I could talk about them forever, but I’m getting tired. Do ghosts even get tired? Am I a ghost? Oh well…

There used to be so much glass. Even on people’s clothes. We’d all obsessively look at reflective things around us, hoping to see the danger coming. Glass, wood, mud. Like a mirror thrown onto a field.

We soon found out reapers are ignored by mirrors. We’d clean the bloodied glass and the next person would wear it. I guess we hoped.

We got worn out after a while. The glass got heavy, the blood was mocking us.

The mirrors don’t see me either. I started thinking reapers were like me and they went crazy. I almost sympathized, I thought I’d feel less lonely.

to be continued…

#tw: death #tw child death #tw suicide #tw domestic violence #tw assault #tw alchoholism #writing #My writing #medieval #fantasy #psychology #excerpt from a book I'll never write

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hoetani · 2 years

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| FINALLY HIS |

Warnings: little suggestive, profanity (v little), fluff, (17+ blog)

Synopsis: If Rindou knew that all it’d take to get you in his arms was to patch you up, he’d have done it sooner.

Relationship: Rindou Haitani x fem!Reader

The night air is cold and damp as you hobble into the early crevice of an alley. Sliding down the brick wall, you can’t help but gasp at the pain radiating from your abdomen. Maybe indulging in a fight wasn’t in your best interest, especially as you’d be out of commission for a while – that is if you make it home.

Your head falls back against the hard brick, hands clutching the bloody wounds. Your whole body aches, no doubt bruised all over and the pain sears under the bitter wind.

“Fuck!” You mutter weakly.

Murderous rage is displaced with miserable annoyance, how are you going to make it home. Minutes feel like hours as they pass traitorously slow. You can’t stay too long, if anyone sees you, the police will surely get involved and you really can’t deal with that right now.

Crawling onto your knees, you manage to right yourself using the wall. Leaning against it, you’re able to walk…kind of. Even if a ninety year old granny with a walking stick can move faster, it’s progress.

When it becomes too much you’re forced to stop, wheezing against the spiky hedge you’re using for support. The blurry call of your name makes you wince. The voice, the one that belongs to the beautifully annoying man who was as mean as he was dangerous, his stern face always set in a scowl, your mind races. It can’t be him, the odds nearly impossible.

A strong hand wraps around your upper arm. In attempt to look at the perpetrator, you let go of the hedge, falling into his grasp. A muffled, ‘shit’ rings in your ears as he repositions you in his arms.

“You’re getting blood all over my clothes.”

“How are you mean to me even in my imagination?” You pout up at him. His face is fuzzy but you can immediately pick out his burning lilac eyes.

He’s caught off guard. Usually, you’d never make such a face at him, let alone talk to him so freely without an additional insult. And with the way your wide eyes are looking up at him, he finds it endearing.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Wow, you sound worried,” you attempt to laugh but it turns into a pitying cough.

“As if,” he mutters, pulling your arm around his neck and wrapping the other around your waist. Under different circumstances, he’s sure he’d be thrilled but the constant nagging fear of you dying – although completely irrational – makes him tense.

“Gonna kill those bastards tomorrow,” You half-snarl as you think back to the reason you’re in this mess. He drags you down the street to a place that is certainly not your home and too tired to complain, you let him.

He chuckles at that, “You won’t be able to walk for at least a week.”

“Rindou! I am not having sex with you!”

“You idiot! I’m talking about your injuries.”

He busies himself with dragging you through the doors of the building, trying to hide his face, but your sly eyes can just make out the pink of his cheeks.

“Oh,” you say, tone dripping in disappointment, surprising even yourself, “Do you not think I’m pretty?”

As soon as the question escapes, you want to smack yourself. Although you can blame your change in behavior on the blood loss and delirium, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be acting like this with the cute guy you’re rivalling with.

After pulling you into the elevator, he sighs, “You really want to do this right now?”

You turn away, of course he doesn’t think of you like that, he only sees you as an annoying little girl that picks fights with him for no reason. The rejection stings and you want to leave. Although you’re half-dead and on the brink of collapsing, you somehow muster the energy to make it out of his vicinity.

As soon as the doors open, you slink out of his grasp and stagger towards the flights of stairs.

“Oi, where you going?”

“I’m going away,” you say, reaching out for the handle to your escape.

“No, you’re not.”

His arms slip around you and he tugs you back to his place. Your vehement struggle, draws out growl a of annoyance, “Why are you suddenly fighting me?”

“I’m embarrassed!” You admit without thinking, and you think you might go back to the stairs to throw yourself down them.

“Grow up,” he snaps, “The more you struggle, the more blood you lose, now hurry and get in.”

Against your will, he unceremoniously shoves you into a chair, not giving you the luxury of sitting on the couch because he doesn’t want his upholstery to get dirty. Within minutes, he’s before you, armed to the teeth with medical supplies.

He removes your ruined top with careful hands, peeling away the soiled material. His intense eyes survey the extent of the damage, choosing the best course of action.

You don’t notice the bob of his Adams apple and the waver of his hands as he tries to focus on the task at hand, rather than the fact you’re right under him, barely clothed. What you do notice, is the red hue of his face as he works away wordlessly.

“I think you’re pretty.”

He says it so nonchalantly, you almost miss it, “Huh?”

“You asked me earlier, idiot.”

A shameless dreamy smile pulls at your lips as you watch him goofily. Pulling away from your gaze, he mutters incoherently under his breath. When Dr Haitani finally finishes, he drapes you in one of his old shirts before packing up his supplies – shoving the unfolded bandage rolls back into their respective box.

“Rindou?”

“Yes?” He says absently.

When he finally looks up, you push forward, pressing your lips to his. Immediately, he accepts, his deep groan reverberating through you deliciously. You could taste the tension lingering between you.

When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, savouring the wild look in his eyes with a sense of pride, it’s a look you only see when he’s doing something he enjoys. Smiling in content, you close your eyes, basking in the moment, in him.

Heat crawls up his neck as he admires you from up close, eyes trailing over the flutter of your lashes and the ridge of your nose. If he knew that all it took to get you in his arms was to patch you up, he’d have done it much sooner.

As your forehead grows heavier, he can’t help but roll his eyes at your sleeping figure but a small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

Finally, you’re his.

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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When the Pain Ends // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Breaking up with your boyfriend ends with your broken hand, a broken heart and a trip to Canada. Getting out of Oklahoma for comfort of your younger brother Owen brings you into contact with a sweet Canadian.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital, cheating boyfriend, angst and bit of fluff

Words: 3.1k

Requested: No.

A/N: Tidbit of info is that I am a university student. I had last week off and I’m six minutes into my History Zoom Lecture. Here’s a little fic.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The scowl glued on your face as you waited in the ER for the results from the x-ray you had gotten back from minutes ago. A bag of ice on the swollen knuckles of your right hand still splattered in drops of blood. The same blood as the small drops on your shirt as well. If that didn’t put a scowl on your face, it was the next issue.

The reason for your visit to the ER was in bed next over complaining as a nurse checked his face. His eyes meeting yours in a blend of guilt, regret and fear almost. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Let’s backtrack a little for a short history.

The summer after graduation, you had met a guy on the beach playing volleyball in need of another player. You joined, and then you fell for the guy just as he did for you. For the last three years, you were now twenty-one years old. Parker had been a really good guy. Until yesterday.

“Babe!” Parker sounded congested with the bandages held up his nose. He had been fighting the nurse to come to your side.

“Don’t call me that!” You hissed glaring at the tall boy with the auburn hair colour that had once been your favourite colour.

“C’mon it was a mistake-Ow!” Parker whined at the nurse applied more pressure as she cast a sympathetic glance at you. A small smile of thanks passed to the nurse who had maybe pressed a little no hard on Parker’s nose.

Your eyes rolled at the drama that was Parker when it came to injuries that had been his entire fault, to be frank. Your fist meeting his face? His fault for cheating. What did he expect? A congratulations? Screw that.

“Say anything else I swear I’ll hit the other ball.” You glared at the boy sending him to a fit, shaking fear of stupidity.

The beach was filled up with teens and adults with children on the nice weekend day out of the loud city. Originally you hadn’t been able to join Parker with your mutual friends, but something else had spurred you there. Instead of having the weekly movie night via FaceTime with your younger brother, you had other plans. A particular video sent by Parker’s best friend and his cousin too had brought you here. Livvy had grown close in the three-year relationship you had with her cousin.

Your fury filled gaze flickered around the beach and the grass in the large opening area of the waterfront. Finally, your eyes found Parker sitting with Livvy on the blanket on the grass with Steve. Livvy was the first to see with marching through the people spreading like a curtain from the angry girl.

“Hey, Parker!” You shouted at your boyfriend in a conversation with your other two friends. Parker’s smile grew just before it falters at your expression.

“Hey, Babe,” Parker spoke, climbing to his full five-foot-ten stature. Livvy’s smile pulled up in an amused smirk while Steve looked more confused.

“How was your weekend at your sick Granny’s house?” You came to a stop a foot away from him. Arms crossed just under your chest his thick eyebrows furrowed together.

“Uh…it was okay. She’s feeling better.” Parker nodded to himself tilting his head to the side, “It was-“

“I hope she better. Her treatment must have been incredible.” You replied, unfurling your arms to grab the phone from your back pocket.

Parker grew more confused, “What?”

“The doctor sure knew what he was doing. The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The whistle you made after your statement sounded, but you grew more satisfied with the circle of people behind you.

“Oh.” Steve choked, raising one fist to press against his mouth. By now Livvy had started recording on her phone.

Livvy and Parker may be cousins, but she loathed cheaters when it was the cause of her parents’ divorce. Parker’s lips parted as he paled. The click of the glass screen brought up a video of Parker and a brunette in a hot tub.

“Ba-“

“Fucking look at your actions.” You hissed stepping even closer, “Was it worth it? Jeopardizing a relationship with someone you share years of memories with? Years of love and trust? All for thirty seconds of fun? We both know you tend to…get too excited.”

“Oh shit,” Steve spoke, shifting his gaze between you and Parker like he was a bobblehead of Einstein. The very bobblehead that you had laughed giving Steve with his obsession over the legendary scientist.

“It just happened. I still love you. I just needed a- “Parker stumbled back bringing his hands to his face, “OW! You broke my nose!”

“Ouch.” You hissed shaking your aching hand coated in some blood that splattered your shirt from shaking the hand.

“What the hell! You bit…holy fuck!” Parker screamed as your foot came up between his spread legs, nailing his left nut. He collapsed onto the grass, struggling to hold his bleeding broke nose and his nuts.

“That’s what you get asshole.” You shouted, turning to Livvy, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

“Parker drove, I’ll drive you both there. Steve can keep you two from fighting.” Livvy spoke, ending the video to shove everything in the oversized beach bag.

Now it was hours later as per usual in most hospitals elongating the time you were forced to spend with your now ex-boyfriend. Livvy and Steve had gone home a while back. Parker continued trying to fix the unrepairable damage he had done.

“Y-“

“That’s it!” You exclaimed jumping down from the bed to storm over to Parker. You made a few steps before arms encircled your waist.

“Okay, Slugger.” The gritty voice of your father spoke tugging you as far away from your ex-boyfriend as possible, “As much I want to kill him, I think you broke his pretty-boy face enough.”

The anger drained from your body as you slumped against your dad anguish set in with a tsunami of hurt. Time melted as you broke in your father’s arm; missing the doctor giving information. Your hand was fitted with a cast, and next thing you were aware of it was in the car.

“You bruised hits nuts. Broke his nose.” Dad nonchalantly spoke, turning the steering wheel as he exited the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother making small talk as he let you be quiet on the drive home.

You didn’t know what hurt more, the heartache or your broken hand stabilized in the brace. The clearing of a throat had your attention is drawn to the house you had grown up no doubt holding your upset mother.

“She’s not that mad.” Dad quietly spoke, handing your phone that had died during the time in the ER. You shot him a look at the inaccuracy of his statement because you both know she was angry.

“Her daughter just spent hours in a hospital with a dead phone. We both know she probably thought I was dead in a ditch.” You deadpanned as you both walked up to the door of the home in Norman, Oklahoma.

The door opened before you could reach for it, and a flurry of blonde hair attacked you in a hug. Your mother hugged then leaned away to scan your features. Catching the dried tear stains paired with the red-rimmed eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Dinah spoke, raising her hands to wipe the tears from your face only causing more to fall, “What’s wrong?”

“Parker cheated on me.” You mumbled melting into her arms in another round of tears, breaking your parents’ hearts.

Meanwhile in Vancouver, Canada

Owen loved his job and the people he had met, but he missed the weekly movie nights with his older sister. The Joyner siblings had gotten down pat a system of sync to have the same movie playing at the same time on FaceTime. Imagine his surprise when he got a text apologizing.

Virtual movie night postponed. It put him in a slump that greatly concerned his roommate at the decrease of excitement. Even the next day, he was sad like a kicked puppy.

“Bro? You good?” Charlie asked from his place in the kitchen, scanning his emails on his computer. Owen barely made his eyes, “Wasn’t movie night with your sister yesterday?”

Owen nodded, “Yeah she-“

As Owen had gone to explain his phone had dinged with a concerning message from his mother.

Mom: Have you heard from Y/N? She hasn’t come home.

Owen swiped out of the conversation to the most used one with you shared with him to send a mass of messages. All not even coming up as read by you. It was his stipulation that you had it one for his safe of mind.

“C’mon you little shit,” Owen grumbled, pressing your contact to call. It didn’t even ring, “Dead cell.”

Charlie’s full attention shifted to the younger guy sitting on their couch in the apartment they used during filming. As Owen started pacing, Charlie was over quick as a bunny to offer comfort to him. The boys had grown so close, with Jeremy too, that they knew how to help the other.

“Owen, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Charlie soothed the blonde with his eyes pleading with the teenager.

“My parents haven’t talked to my sister. She didn’t go home.” Owen admitted scratching at his chest when his chest tightened. The other immediately finding his pulse on his neck to ensure he still had a pulse.

“Oh shit.” Charlie retorted, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor trying to find the right words to help his friend.

For the next hour, the boys kept in contact with Owen’s family and checking your social media in shifts as they filmed. It was a slow day when Owen’s phone finally rang with his mother’s contact once more.

“Mom, did you find her?” Owen asked, picking at the skin on his lips pacing as he had all day. The level of anxiety had been perfect for the scene he had filmed as Alex.

“Yeah. Look, Owen, she needs to get out of Oklahoma. Do you have room for her?” Dinah asked her son periodically glancing in the living room at the lifeless young woman.

“Yeah. We have an extra room.” Owen supplied squeezing the phone in his grip, “How is she? What happened?”

“I’m letting her settle before I ask any questions, but her flight is in a bit. It was either you take her in, or we pay for a hotel room. Oh! I got this lego-“

“I have to get back to filming. I’ll call you tonight.” Owen told his mother as his thumb hit the record circle on his phone. Kenny waving him over to film a scene with Booboo that would be the last before heading home.

The over the counter pain pill went down with a swig of water in the airport waiting for Owen and his roommate. Owen had messaged you that he would pick you up on the way from the set in perfect timing.

“Y/N!” Owen cheered catching sight of your form hunched forward on the bench you had miraculously found empty. Your blank eyes seeing the blue of your younger brother.

Owen’s eyes widened in shock, “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Noncommittal, the girl walked by her brother with her luggage in the mission to get to the car. All you wanted was to burst into years under your blankets until the world turned again, when birds sang, and the word wasn’t painted in dull colours.

Just as it had during the ride from the hospital to the house, it was dead silent in the car with the barest sound of music. Owen and Charlie had been having a conversation with expressions with the tension in the backseat stifling.

“This is our place.” Charlie spoke, opening the apartment door with a flourish for the girl and her luggage. Your eyes scanned the modest apartment with minimal mess compared to the tornado devastation of Owen’s Oklahoma room.

“Okay.” You replied, watching as Owen rolled the luggage to the room you would use for the few weeks you would be here.

Once showered, dressed and settled, you retreated to the couch to watch a film with the two boys. Your mind fluttered between Beca’s blow out with her father and Jesse to the city of Norman. As if thinking of Parker manifested something your phone buzzed with notifications.

@/livvyjo: Go, girl! [video]

@/malia134: Parker goes down like the bitch he is!!!

@/notsteverogers: I got a front-row seat to the fight.

Those three comments on Livvy’s video had more support than hate plus the video itself was hilarious. It caught the entire confrontation from greeting the cheater to being pulled away to spend the ten minutes in the same car. The car you had hooked up in the backseat of in the years you dated him.

“-The prescription of ‘dicked down’ cured her illness and old age.” The pure anger on your expression amused you.

“What are you watching?” Owen inquired from the couch he watched the movie from. It made up for the lack of a film last night.

“A girl punching her bag of shit ex-boyfriend. She almost ripped his face off in the hospital.” You softly replied with your thumb double-tapping Livvy’s post.

Charlie’s attention shifted from the pool mashup with the Barden Bellas to the pride evident in your tone. It was the first time he had heard you laugh during the few hours he had been in your presence.

“What movie?”

“Oh, you know Parker’s Dicked Down Adventures. Filmed free with an iPhone.” You spoke sliding down to sit flush to Charlie to show the video you refreshed.

Owen’s mouth opened, “He cheated on you? How stupid is he??”

“You have a mean right hook.” Charlie supplied replaying the video for the third time with a weird feeling in his gut. The confidence stirred a body warming heat in the Canadian actor unlike anything else he had felt before.

“Dad taught me.” You replied, slouching down in the plush couch with a tiny smiling, “The nurse heard what happened. She put excessive pressure for his actions. I overheard his diagnosis; nasty bruised testicle and a broken nose.”

Both boys winced at the description. Owen ditching Charlie’s side to sit beside you, leaving you in the middle of the boys.

“I almost attacked him before Dad dragged me out of the room.” You recounted snuggling into your younger brother’s side.

“Where are my keys?” Owen questioned his roommate, “We need them to drive to the airport. I need to kill the ass that hurt my sister.”

Your deft fingers grasped Owen’s wrist when he went to get up because, in all honesty, he probably would book a flight. He wouldn’t go through with the plan to physically hurt Parker, but Owen had a wicked tongue for insults.

You spent one month in Vancouver with your brother and his castmates from helping Maddie with her homework. Movie nights with Owen changed to include Charlie too. Shopping trips with Sav and Tori. Baking with Jadah. You became family with them.

All good things come to an end. You had settled back in Norman with brighter plans that didn’t involve relying on men. Movie nights still happened with the boys, but things got hectic. Virtual movie nights shifted to texting Charlie and calls.

“Hey dork.” Charlie spoke walking down the street in Vancouver to the restaurant he was meeting the cast at. His lips pulled back in a massive grin, hearing your voice.

“Hey Char!” You enthusiastically spoke, walking out of the building with more pep in your step at the voice of the man, “What’s up?”

“On my way for food with everyone. How are you feeling?” Charlie asked, rubbing his fingertips on the dark denim pants. The sound of your voice brightening up his day more than he thought possible.

“Ooh. I should let you go, huh?” You questioned shifting to hold the phone between your shoulder and chin. Fingers unlocked the new car you had bought with the money you had saved.

A nice change of money from selling the jewellery, clothes and other miscellaneous gifts Parker had given you. The necklace he gave you that once belonged to his grandmother had been given back to him. Other than that you had no interaction with the ass.

“I’d rather talk to you.” Charlie admitted biting his lip in concentration, “I have a question.”

“Okay. What’s your question?” You questioned as your phone connected to your car—Charlie’s voice coming through the car speakers.

“Filming is almost over. Do you have plans for New Years? I’d like you to see you again.”

His words set a flutter of butterflies moving in your stomach at his nervous confidence striking the new information. The change in your friendship had been felt on his side as well and while you usually would think one-month post cheating wasn’t long enough. Something about Charlie felt comfortable as if everything had been preparing to fall for him.

“I could fly-“

“I’d like to see where you grew up. Your favourite places and where you went to school. I want to know the little things that made you who you are.” Charlie spoke coming to a stop outside the restaurant, waiting for your answer.

Owen’s eyes pulled from his debate with Sacha and Jeremy to the nervous Canadian biting his lip outside the window. By the expression on his face, Owen couldn’t guess who he was talking about. It was the smile that had been appearing on Charlie’s face for the last two weeks you had been staying with them.

Charlie had fallen for Owen’s big sister, and he couldn’t think of anyone better. The bond between you and Charlie had been natural and magical to watch. It was kinda gross seeing his best friend and sister having heart eyes with each other. Yet, Owen had never liked Parker, but he loved the idea of having Charlie as a brother.

“Y-yeah. Of course, you can Char.” The flattering blush heated up your skin at the turn in the convo—a grin splitting on the two individuals with more than three thousand kilometres between them.

“Cool. I should join the cast. I’ll text you later.”

“Bye, Charlie.” You whispered to the boy looking out the window noticing something she had been oblivious to.

The world had regained the colour, the birds sang again, and the world turned once more. All because a boy helped her heal.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

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squirrelacorngliterfarts · 3 years

Text

Blood. 2. 46.

Everything Taglist: @gold-dragon-slayer @your-internet-granny

@darkwhisperswolf @youbloodymadgenius @blonddnamedhandz @thelastemzy @inforapound @supermassiveblackhope @captstefanbrandt @roonil-wxzlib @syreni-dea @cynthianokamaria @rosiebrosie @loliismutt@pinkisokay @heavenly1927 @annekleyn @rose-02468 @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @moonie-flower101 @xinyourdreamsx @ir-abelas-telanadas @peachyboneless @feyrearcheron44 @ir-abelas-telanadass @http://lgkoval.tumblr.com/ @captainofallfandoms @captainofallfandoms @mistalli @severewobblerlightdragon

(Y/n) comes back into consciousness, noting how warm she was, how comfortable she was, the soft fabric beneath her fingertips.

she almost wonders if she’d died, if she were finally at rest.

if she opens her eyes.....will she see her lost family?. will the pain finally be gone?.

she grips the sheets, her side burning, aching, like someone had repeatedly struck her.

no. she weren’t dead. she was very much alive. she was finally coming to her senses. smelling fresh air, flowers, various scents of food making her stomach rumble.

“bjorn.......ubbe......”she whispers out, voice broken from lack of water......lack of nutrients.

with her eyes still closed, she hears soft footsteps, with an even calmer voice to accommodate them.

“they are not far, they are staying in the royal villa, feet from the castle”.

she can’t open her eyes, doesn’t have the strength to.

“who are you?”.

“k-.....alfred” the voice replies, and (y/n) swallows thickly, grimacing when there was very little saliva on her tongue.

he sees this, coming to her side, grabbing a glass. he goes to aid her, but pauses, hovering his hand above her.

“may i help you?”.

she nods, desperate.

he places his hand behind her head, his other hand pressing the glass to her mouth.

she sighs out, swallowing the ice cold liquid, instantly feeling it refilling her body with life.

his hands were warm, gentle, careful not to go too low.

it was......strange.

she had finished the glass in mere seconds, finishing off another glass before settling back down into the plush sheets.

she slowly opens her eyes, letting them adjust to the light.

and once they settle.....she sees him.

he’s looking at her with slight concern, curiousness, looking like an innocent child.

he looked.......different.

“i remember you” she mutters, alfred smiles at her words.

“and i you”.

she stares at him. he had grown taller, hair longer, more mature, slightly saddened.

she wondered why...........

he looks to the bed, motioning to it with his ringed hand. his brows raised, questioning her if he could sit.

she goes to move, but hisses in pain, gripping her side.

he places his hand on her shoulder.

“don’t move. i can make due” he says, quickly moving his hand from her, sitting down by her ankles.

she seethes in pain, breathing out shakily. she gently pulls back the sheets, finding herself in a light blue night gown, her side bandaged from top to bottom.

“we burned it shut for the final time. if you rest long enough, do not strain yourself, it should stay that way”.

she looks up at him, finding his eyes on hers instead of her barely covered body.

he refused to take his eyes from hers, seemingly on edge with her body so open to him.

she covers herself again, finding him to be more relaxed.

“you had a fever, but it broke two days ago”.

“two days?.....” she asks, chest rising and falling with uncertainty. he nods, playing with the jewels on his fingers.

“you’ve been in and out of sleep for 4 days now”.

she would have been more worried if she hadn’t known where her family was, but she remembers his words......feet from the castle.

“why did you help me?” she asks, moving her ankles away from him.

he notices her shifting, but says nothing of it.

“you saved my life, you risked your life and killed one of your own. this is my way of repaying you”.

he says everything like its so simple, so easy to understand.

(y/n) wonders if this is his way of manipulating them. the way she was brought up she was taught that Christians, Saxons, the English were horribly untrustworthy, mischievous, never to make deals with them.

and in this moment, she can not decide if it is her intuition telling her not to trust him, or her families words ringing in her ears.

she just has to wait it out and see.........

alfred looks away from her, outside the window at the sun, knowing he’d have to leave soon, attend to matters he knew could not be ignored.

“your brother ubbe is coming later, he and the others have been visiting every morning”.

his words make her smile, she was ready to see them after so long.

she nods her reply.

he stands from the bed, giving her one last smile before going towards the door.

“thank you”.

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at her, hearing how quiet her voice became.

“you are most welcome”.

“wait....”.

he pauses once more, watching as she reaches down in her clothes.

she was happy that whoever changed her left her jewelry on, ubbe and bjorn most likely requested it stay that way.

alfred cinches his brows as she pulls a cross from her neck.

“where did you.....”.

“king ecbert. he gave this to me the day he died”.

he gently takes the cross from her hands, noting how clean it was, how undamaged it was.

“thank you for keeping it so safe”.

she says nothing, just fiddling with her fingers.

alfred wants to say more, but keeps his mouth shut, finally leaving her room, shutting the door behind him.

he leans against it, sighing out, inspecting the cross in his hands........

there is only one thing on his mind......her beauty......and how he had seen her, envisioned her before ever even meeting her.

(y/n) relaxes against the sheets, wincing in pain when her side stretches more than she’d like it to.

no blood. perhaps they wouldn’t have to burn it shut any more, and she can finally heal.

she stares at the ceiling of the room, her thoughts running wild with the idea of staying in a town full of people they were brought up to kill.

and as much as she hates it, her mind drifts to ivar.

his eyes, his mind, his voice, his presence.

it almost felt as if he were in the room with her, laying in bed beside her.

she is almost afraid to turn over, afraid of finding his deep blue eyes trained on hers, that small smile that haunts her at night.

but in his eyes, she knew all she’d see was war, betrayal, death, a cruelness he never showed until his ego became the size of the world.

her eyes fill with tears as she remembers simpler times, with her family all together.

as she closes her eyes, feeling tears run down her temples, staining the white sheets, she falls into a deep sleep, fists clenched as a single name slips from her lips.

“ivar.......”.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #alfred the great #ubbe #hvitserk #(y/n)#fanfiction #imagines #fluff #love #vikings fanfiction

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nectarous · 3 years

Text

TOOTHSOME ⇋ OJIRO ARAN X F!READER.

TAGS: strangers to soulmates. suggestive themes [no smut]. constant changes of pov. slowburn fluff with angst ending.

W/C: 3.3K

SUMMARY: a simple study of intimate bonds and tasting love.

⇦ SEWER SOULMATE SYNDROME COLLAB MASTERLIST ♡

there’s something about the world that’s absolutely and wholly dull. waking up to blistering rays glaring through open windows, working at a lackluster club, coming home to your barebones apartment that you’ve never bothered decorating. you only look forward to collapsing into a steaming bath, dreading the fact you’ll have to repeat this all over again once the sun starts to peek up from the horizon.

it’s what’s deserving of such an uninspiring, miserable personality. you’re not interested in much outside of the bubble you crafted. you’re indifferent to the fickle things; love, bonds, and that mouthful of flavor when you meet your soulmate for the first time. it doesn’t interest you in any capacity.

you know that there’s a lot to be desired with you. your people skills need tinkering and while your work ethics are respectable enough, all you can think to describe yourself is boring.

you’re interested in surviving and supporting yourself. living long enough to enjoy yourself, but short enough to not have to work hard—you’ve never been interested in the company and passing affections of others.

the idea of a soulmate is a delicate one to some, daft to others. you’re more indifferent on the topic, leaning closer to disdain, about the idea of a fated second half.

how naïve you are for thinking that you’re lucky enough to escape it, unaware that in a short twelve months, it’ll only take one stranger to ruin your perception of love, of the world, of yourself.

just like everyone else, you’ve been taught about soulmates, raised around the idea that finding them would finally open you up. from an outsider's perspective, you understand how they work, how they feel. you’ve spotted that glazed over look in their eyes more times than you care to count. you’ve witnessed soulmates bumping into each other for the first time, seen how eyes light up, and heard the crashing of heart beats from across rooms. you swore you could hear them salivate at the taste of each other’s presence.

you’re certain that’s something you’ll never experience. you hope you’ll never meet them, hope that they're dead or far away in some other continent, or that they’re as much as a homebody as you are. you covet to be in the majority that never meet their soulmate, and have to settle for yourself and

you’ve made it this far alone. why bother searching for your other half now?

• • •

even at 27, aran’s still hopeful he’ll find the person he’s supposed to spend his life with. it’s a silly little fantasy, one that has settled deep in his core, meeting the love of his life and instinctively knowing. all through his teenage years, he’s been teased for being a hopeless romantic. but who could blame him? what’s more serene, more absolute than the idea of finding the person who will love you for who you are, for the rest of your life?

his romanticism has mellowed out over the years, and he’s become a reasonable man with a successful career and lifelong friends and a dog he spends a fortune on every month. he’ll let life take its course, pray for the best, and continue on.

everyone has a soulmate. he hopes it’s only a matter of time before he meets his. but it’s not a necessity for him.

• • •

the first time you see him, your soulmate, is outside some onigiri shop, bathed in the purple shadows of sunset. you instantly turn the other way, stumbling into some random convenience store and ignoring that lightheadedness, and the urge to gag at the rich flavor soaking into your mouth, hoping he doesn’t feel your proximity.

all of a sudden, you’re not that hungry anymore.

• • •

aran feels it. his knees grow weak, his heart swells twice as big, there’s a pressure in his sinuses that almost has him stumbling back. and then that feeling’s gone. when he looks around, no ones there, but the residual feelings still linger.

this is the taste of aran’s soulmate. he always expected love to taste like bubblegum or the strawberry mochi he used to split with his sister. he expected to savor the color pink, or red, delicate colors that remind him of spring and joy.

instead, there’s a bitter, heavy metallic soaking into his mouth; like antimony and lemon rinds. it clashes against his taste buds causing his face to scrunch up in distaste.

it tastes like gray.

• • •

the overwhelming taste in your mouth is pastel green, tooth-decaying sweet, and tart. it drips down your throat, makes your gums and your heart ache and throb. it feels like you’re going to choke right here, in the snack section of a convenience store.

granny smiths, heavy molasses and acerbic echoes of sumac sticks to the insides of your cheeks. the emotions so saturated it starts to burrow deep in your teeth.

you hate how warm it makes you feel.

• • •

you recognize him immediately when you’re flicking through the channels waiting for your dinner to reheat. of course the universe decides to pair you up with a fucking olympic volleyball player with amazing things going for him. you can’t change the channel, can’t ignore that he looks a little too good panting and covered in sweat. his voice rumbles smooth, his eyes glimmer, his quiet chuckle makes you throb.

you’ve been laying in bed and trying to push out the sneaking thoughts of him, trying to erase the green flavor that creeps back in ever since.

it’s been two weeks since you’ve been anywhere near that shop. the fear that you’ll bump into him again is… overwhelming. but you’re exhausted, working through the day for the second time this week. and of course, you forgot your umbrella at home, forcing you to run through the muggy rain in a ratty shirt and soggy sneakers.

you told yourself you’d take the long way home, but now that cutting through this block will get you out of the rain faster, knowing it’ll get you back home in time to catch that cooking show while you take a bath, tempts you too much.

but of course, nothing that life hands you seems to go your way.

and of course he’s out there again. out of all days. you hope he’s not some mindless sap that waits outside of the shop everyday, aching for the chance to bump into his soulmate and live happily ever after. that might be the only thing that would make this soulmate bond even more painful.

you really should’ve just gone the long way home.

he looks happy and, you begrudgingly admit to yourself as you wait for the crosswalk to turn green, even more handsome than on your tv. big. he’s on the phone, protected from the rain under the shop’s awning. the taste of green’s already oozing it’s way back in.

apparently, that perspective ability you admired while watching one of his first matches bleeds outside the court too, because he immediately makes eye contact with you. eyes widen, he hangs up immediately, and his hand raises in a wave.

and the first thing you can do is run.

• • •

he can sense that his soulmate’s near, that sharp tinny taste overpowering the onigiri osamu forced him to finish. it has his nose crinkling up before he whips his head up, staring at a girl. his heart soars a bit, finally he gets to meet you, before crashing down upon seeing that expression of horror on your dripping face, before you trip your way into some alley. he doesn’t second guess running into the sheets of rain, not hesitating at the sudden chill of rain.

he can tell that you’re scared, terrified, disgusted at the idea of having a soulmate. is it because of him?

the taste of each other is overwhelming, gunmetal grating and foiled and loud crashing into his. can barely swallow it down, eyes rolling back.

you can’t handle the onslaught of pungent syrupy sour, it’s soaking into your head more than the rain. it makes you hunched over and soaked, retching bile and the remnants of breakfast, you want to die.

you want to tell him to fuck off, let you drown in apples, in the vomit and the rain, but he’s insistent. he keeps a polite distance, a safe distance, from you. arms flex in his soaking pale t-shirt while he looks at you like some kind of wounded, rabid animal.

“let’s get you warmed up, ok?”

that tart taste eats away at the rancid bile in your mouth, and you hate to admit that his charcoal eyes start to slowly thaw you.

you’re a mess of chattering teeth, goose pimpled skin. your nipples are poking stiff peaks into your shirt and your fingers are shaking, but he politely ignores both, stepping over the puddle of vomit to pick up your dropped bag, hot hand on the small of your back as he leads you in through the back entrance of the onigiri shop.

two identical faces, the only thing separating them is the shock of pale blond hair, are watching you from a distance as aran presses soft cotton into your arms and leads you into the locker room. they both feign boredom as you shuffle by them, but even in your bleak state, you can’t ignore that interested glimmer in their eyes from behind the register.

the sound of slopping clothes dropping against the cold tile makes your skin crawl, your eyes sting, and your head ache like it was just banged into the concrete. you don’t know whether to be humiliated or thankful, unsettled or grateful that ojiro aran’s actually nice. such a simple word. just these last 10 minutes has proved his heart of gold and, as you tread back into the main room, you think you’re going to cry.

no one talks as you collapse and curl up on one of the farthest seats, as you start to lose yourself in the sounds of thunder and the stifled radio, the cold bleeding it’s way into your brain. you can start to feel yourself dissociating, vision starting to blur, losing yourself in the numb.

the delicate placing of six onigiri snaps you out of it, aran’s look of concern makes you curve over your knees as you drag the plate closer. his eyes tickle at your soul, baring deep into your bones, as if he can see how much you're hurting, how much you don’t care. compared to him, you look like a drenched rat, hair still damp and feet bare.

you really might cry.

because it hurts. the thought that he’d treat you good like this, every day, for the rest of his life. you can tell he’s kind, the way he sets down a cup of tea and brings you some food. the way he offers you a change of clothes. he’s a gentleman, and you feel pity for him, that he’s attached to you.

the tilt of your lips in gratitude probably translates more as a grimace than a smile.

he waits until after you finish eating to start talking, “i’m ojiro aran.”

“i know,” you respond back. “that volleyball player.”

your droning voice doesn’t make him flinch back as you hope.

“i hope i’m not overstepping, but i can tell that you’re not the happiest with — ” finally he hesitates, flicking the sugar packets, eyes tracing over your face. you make it a point to not return the eye contact.

“look. i’m not sure if it’s because of me, or you’re not happy with the idea of soulmates in general.” he overlooks the way your fingers twitch around your mug. “and i’m not going to force you to do anything, because i can tell that you’re on edge right now.”

he lowers himself so he’s not towering over you, balancing on his toes, still toying with the condiments on your table.

“to tell you the truth, i’m a bit of a romantic,” something sweet starts slipping into his voice. “i can tell that you aren’t. we don’t have to rush into anything, say the word and we can forget we ever met. but i think this can work out. we just need to pace to our comfort levels.”

and as you stare into his eyes, him squatting in front of you and holding your still shaking hands, the utter care, eyes almost pleading, and a soft smile that he’s emitting, it makes you feel peace for the first time. the stains of melancholy in your bones start to fade, and pastel green leaks from the sides of your cheeks making the corners of your lips involuntarily twitch up.

maybe, just maybe this’ll work out.

• • •

it’s been months, and aran’s learnt more about you than you know. he’s picked up that you despise physical affection just as much as the rain, but that you crave the heat from his body.

he thinks about you constantly. he replays your ‘dates that aren’t dates’ on repeat at practice, printing your face in his head on his morning runs, and he welcomes that metallic bitter that comes with you before he goes to sleep.

you’re standoffishness is soft and appealing at first glance, like antimony you taste like. the more time he’s in your presence, the more that lack of intimacy burns at his eyes, and his lungs. his hands sting with rejection every time you inch and shrug away from his touch or grimace when he laughs at your half-jokes. he knows there’s a separate woman bedded underneath. he saw her at the restaurant, he sees it whenever you watch the sunset. he notices it most behind the closed doors of his apartment.

he’s come to appreciate your hands. your hands convey the things you’re too nervous to say. he can feel the adoration pulsing underneath the fragile skin in your fingers and your wrists, whispering the things you can’t always say out loud. they speak to your sense of comfort with him, the vulnerability you only show with him. the way they sneak under his shirt to run down his smooth back when you're cold, only to pull back and hope he didn’t catch your slip up.

he notices the chipped polish that you pick at when you're stressed over deadlines. how your hands shrink in comparison to every part of him, tracing the callouses and scars from decades worth of volleyball. he loves how you bring his hands up to kiss on his knuckles after hours in bed, before you make up excuses as to why you can’t spend the night.

much to your annoyance, it makes him want to try that much harder.

• • •

love. a complicated, sinister, four letter word you never thought you were built for. you think about it a lot, in tandem with aran. probably too much to be healthy. he’s the first thing you think of when you wake up, plaguing your mind as you work, and leaving you always wondering what time he goes to sleep.

it's embarrassing. the three hours you spend with him every weekend has turned you into some sort of sap, haunted with his musky scent, that soft smile and that embarrassing craving for him to pat your head again. like your some fucking puppy. and you swear, that syrupy green apple taste is stained into your taste buds, it’s seeped into your bones and ruined you.

the last thing he deserves is you. you know that. but he doesn’t think that, he’s letting that metallic taste run him around lovesick. he makes you feel blistered; every touch and adoring glance burns into your flesh in permanent, achy reminders. he has your number, knows where you live. but he respects you and the distance you’ve placed.

he’s getting too comfortable too quickly, and he keeps surprising you with how patient he is. he’s adaptive, tenderhearted, almost philanthropic with the way he took in the charity case of you.

it didn’t pan out the way you expected the first few months. you expected failure, for him to snap at your constant rejections and complaints. apparently, experiences with his childhood friends prepared him for you.

he's too helpful of a person, wanting to talk about feelings and cooking you food when you didn’t ask for it. it scared you, how fast he accepted this soulmate thing, how fast he was able to care. his hugs lasted too long. he's suffocating you in adoration and care, and you can tell he’s almost to the point of being in love with you.

poor aran. you’ve been destined to be with this man, who’s been destined to be alone since birth, all because the universe promised you to him.

you know you’re going to destroy this beautiful bond that the universe crafted. you’re bitter and mean and unable to open yourself up to him; he almost knows nothing about you, and you know almost everything about him. you know how his younger sister wants to become a physical therapist, how the owner of that little onigiri shop has been one of his best friends for almost two decades. and you know his favorite food’s ritz crackers, that he’s a morning person. he loves dogs and hates horror films, and his two greatest joys are his family and volleyball.

there’s an unspoken hint that he wants you to join the former.

and it’s unfair; who wouldn’t fall in love with that scar on his neck. you try to focus on his bad parts, of which he only has one. his stupid dog, adzuki. that mammoth of a german sheperd that follows you around, places it’s paws on your lap when you come over for dinner.

he laughs every time you grimace at him, looks like we both have a weak spot for you.

• • •

you shatter his heart on the first year anniversary since you’ve been bonded. you were already dangling by a heart string, and that little band of gold and red he gifts you is where you force yourself to draw the line.

all you can think about is how you need to abandon him before either of you get too attached. you’re teetering on the edge of ignoring your gut instincts, of collapsing into him, wanting to let him see the shattered pieces inside you. but then he’ll do something as mundane as calling you over for dinner, and you remember.

he terrifies you.

there’s a reason you haven’t spent the night again. the intimacy of you and him, and his ugly dog, and that picture frame of your date at the beach hung right next to one of his family portraits.

he loves too much and too hard, he’s too intense. he makes your skin prickle in hot fireworks, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight with unease. he’s beautifully passionate about everything he lays his eyes on. he lives life to the fullest and all of a sudden, you want that too. he makes you crave domesticity, waking up next to warm umber hands tracing patterns in your skin, cooking breakfast together, a house in tokyo. a wedding band on your finger.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

you remember the dulling of gray eyes, and his hunched over figure bathed in the ashy violet rays of the sun setting. you try to hold onto that flavor of green before you swallow it for the last time, saliva and tears welling up, before you press one last kiss on his cheek before stepping out. pastel green fades to emerald fades to black. you can’t taste apples or sumac anymore.

no, as much as you wanted to be, you weren’t built for love.

#aran x reader #aran fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! x reader #soulmate collab #aran #collabee <3 #this is my 1000th post... im leaving #ty sm to lee + emi for editing my 3am ramblings :*#and 2 annie for hosting the collab wooo

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cletuscortlandkasady · 3 years

Text

𝕹𝖔𝖑𝖎 𝕸𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖊

𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶

✟ 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊 ✟

The threat of city traffic and the wailing of police sirens wained as the dawn broke through the longest night of her life. If she once had his lyrical promises to lull her to dream, all she had now to drown out reality with were eroded echoes of a warm voice through frigid pipes.

All she had now was her faint voice to filter through her tight throat. "Baby," she called to her co-pilot, but he had no ears to hear her with. "Remember when," she squeezed the steering wheel in time with her heart. "R-Remember when you came back the first time?"

✟

"Am I dead?" The broken boy asked in his broken voice. "Are you an angel?" His mind must've been broken, too. Frances was sure those bullies had loosened a few more screws with the beating they gave him.

It hurt to see him like this, her own throat aching in sympathy, strained by the scream she had saved him with.

"They gotcha in the head, huh?" She offered him a hand from the heavens and he blinked up at her as if she was brighter than the sunlight she was blocking. "C'mon," she snatched him by the front of his tattered and grass-stained shirt. "Up."

Clinging to the skirt of her white Sunday dress, bleeding knees buckling under him, he did eventually get up and rejoin the living.

"Let's go," she huffed, straightening her dress. "The principal's gonna give you a beating, too, if he sees you all dirtied up again."

"Head's fine," the serious boy said in his serious voice. "Died once before, y'know."

She looked back at him, still stuck in the spot she left him standing in. "Huh?"

"Yeah," he looked down at his scraped knuckles and his shaking fingers. "I died." He squeezed his fists. "Came right back."

"Like Jesus?"

The broken boy shattered into a broken chuckle. "Granny said God had nothin' to do with it."

✟

"Don't care what that hag said," Frances forced herself to look to her right. "Don't care if you're Satan's spawn. I need you to come back to life like you did the first time," she swallowed, her voice sore from screaming her way out of San Francisco in her blood-red convertible. "I need you, baby," she sobbed, the salt of her tears tightening her throat. "I need you."

Cletus Kasady's headless body rode shotgun in the getaway car. Her dream car. It was just the other night that he gifted it to her. And it was just last night that he gifted her the cop who took her eye. Her wedding gift.

It was just the other day that France Barrison was a bride. Today, she was a widow.

After the longest night of her life, she pulled over on the unpaved sidewalk of a secluded road and reached for the stiff fingers of her late husband with her fidgeting ones. They were cold, yet, hadn't they always been?

When he had first held her hand, she swore he seeped all the warmth to heat up his own. The touch made her shiver, but she didn't pull away. She never wanted to pull away, so she never did. And she never will.

As she blinked, her eyes cleared of tears and her vision focused on the fly that had landed on the stub his head had once rested upon. Before she could swat it off, it drowned in the blood pooling there. The still wet, still fresh, still flowing blood that was bubbling in his thorn throat.

When she touched it, trembling from her fingernail to her toes, it latched onto her finger and seeped all her warmth. A vein. A tendril. An answered prayer.

#shriek #carnage #frances barrison #cletus kasady #shriekingcarnage #venom: let there be carnage #fanfiction #part one/???

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 4.1

Author’s Note: So I’m thinking of updating every other day or every two days? I tend to write compulsively and neglect my schoolwork lol. Juggling this with work and school will be difficult if I post every day (I can’t help it though, I love updating every day!) So yeah. Also if anyone has chapter filler ideas or prompts they want me to write out, message me or comment below! Back to the story!

..........................................

Xiao had just cleared a band of hilichurls when he came across the small stuffed bunny lying on the ground. It was tattered and worn, but still held its original color. He picked it up and dusted it off, glancing in the direction of the crying girl at the top of the hill. She had been crying over her stolen toy so Xiao took it upon himself to return it to her.

He may or may not have destroyed a portion of the rice crop in doing so...but no matter! The girl was happy now.

"Thank you Mr. Adeptus!" She gave him a toothy grin and hugged her bunny close. "Thank you so much!"

"It was no trouble." Xiao didn't return her smile and began to walk across the bridge that oversaw most of the rice crop. What was it with mortal children and material possessions? Was it like him with his yaksha mask and spear?

"Mr. Adeptus sir, would you like something to eat?"

"Mortal food is not to my liking." He continued to walk away despite hearing her disappointed 'oh.' His eyes landed at the top of another hill, where the hall of Quince Village sat. I should check on her Granny while I'm here.

"Welcome to my humble home! How may I--" Granny's eyes widened significantly when she caught sight of Xiao. "Oh my, it's been some time. Is she alright? Has something happened?"

"Mm." Xiao flicked his gaze around the building before he closed the distance. "She's fine. The Fatui will pose a significant problem. They may come to you first."

"Oh," Granny rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about me then, dear. Just make sure she's safe. I can handle the Fatui's interrogations just fine."

"There's no telling what tactics they may use or what they're after. Make no mention of my interactions with you, nor how you found her. It is for your own safety."

"Consider it done! Now, would you like a cup of tea?"

...........................

"Wait, what?" You and the rest of the adventure team had returned to Quince Village on your request.

Well...when you say 'the rest of the adventure team,' it was just you and Aether. Diluc and Bennett had returned to Mondstat on your way here from Liyue Harbor. After your little confrontation with Childe, he claimed there was unfinished business with the Fatui in the harbor and had to remain there. You didn't believe it one bit.

"Yeah! Do you think he doesn't like me?" Lil Luo's shoulders drooped in sadness. She held her tattered bunny tight against her chest.

"'An adeptus that doesn't smile," Aether met your eyes. "That sounds like Xiao."

"W-well, when was he here? When did this happen?" You had to refrain from shaking her little shoulders for answers.

"U-um, maybe a week ago? I saw him a couple more times after that, but he never smiled back at me..."

"Xiao," you whispered to yourself and scanned the fields for any sign of him. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Four days ago, I think."

"You want to look for him, don't you?" Aether raised a smug brow.

"Can we?" You pleaded.

"We're here on your request. Might as well stay a bit, right?"

"Thank you so much!"

"You can just repay us with food," Paimon popped up and was practically drooling at her own imagination. Aether nodded in agreement.

The three of you--correction, two of you-- climbed the hill to the village center while Paimon floated carefree alongside Aether. The second you reached the top, you were greeted with a disturbing sight.

Fatui agents.

"W-what the hell?" You instinctually grabbed the hilt of your sword, as did Aether. "What are Fatui doing in Quince Village?"

"Paimon has no idea. Let's get them!"

"Doesn't your Granny live here?" Aether sent you a worried look.

"Yes, she does." You marched right up to the nearest agent and puffed out your chest. "Excuse me, what's going on here? Why are you morons moving my Granny's stuff out of the house?"

"Who're you callin' morons?" The agent scoffed through his mask. "Shouldn't you be in school or somethin'? Scram. Get out of here. Damn kids."

"This is MY house," your blade pressed against his neck in a flash. "Get off of my property." Aether followed your lead and drew his weapon too.

"I'm afraid it isn't your home anymore," an all-too familiar deep voice flowed through the air. Zhongli shot the agent a look that caused him to leave the situation to the consultant. "I sincerely apologize for not being in touch recently. The funeral parlor has been quite backed-up lately thanks to Hu Tao's mismanagement."

"What are you doing here?" Paimon asked the question that was on all your minds. "The funeral parlor is so far south of here."

"The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor serves all of Liyue," answered Zhongli. His piercing eyes turned their attention to you and Aether. "As you know, the parlor is partnered with the Fatui."

"And? That doesn't explain why you're here," you snarled. Don't get anything mixed up; you were happy to see him. But the Fatui at your house? Not as much.

Zhongli released a short sigh and closed his eyes. "We received a call from one of your neighbors. It appears your grandmother died last night of a heart attack."

Something hard panged within your chest and it was suddenly difficult to breath. "That's not...possible."

"Hey," Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the world seemed to sway beneath your feet. He slowly led you to the ground.

"That's horrible," Paimon muttered. "Was it...painful?"

"Paimon!" Aether hushed.

"No. It was rather quick. She had not suffered long." Zhongli knelt so that he was eye level with you. "I had sent someone to meet up with you in Dihua Marsh, but it appears as though the messenger never met you. My apologies for the oversight, dear friend."

"Then," you gulped, "why are the Fatui here?"

"Your grandmother had signed the house over to them a day or so before she passed."

"What? Why would she do that? She loves this house!" Your tears dried before they had the chance to fall. Your fists tightened as you struggled to determine who the enemy was. Was it Zhongli? He was technically Fatui if he worked with them. Xiao could have been wrong about him. "Who's in charge here?"

Zhongli almost appeared hesitant to answer. Xiao managed to reach the grandmother in time, but it appears she still had to make some sort of arrangement to guarantee everyone's safety. To think that Childe had somehow known to come here--

"Tch." You stood up and brushed past Aether, heading directly toward the Fatui agent that had the audacity to tell a twenty year old to go back to school. "Hey, dumbass!" You gripped the collar of his coat and yanked him close. "Tell me who's in charge here."

"Heh, want to fight your way out of a contract, eh? Don't you worship the God of Contracts? You're not gettin' your stupid house back."

"Tell me who sent you."

"A certain Harbinger," the agent taunted.

"Give me the name!" You back-handed the masked agent hard enough to hurt him and split your knuckles wide open. The blood splattered onto the wooden floor and soaked into his jacket.

"Hey, wait!" Aether grabbed your shoulder. Zhongli watched him do so.

"You're in luck, sweetheart. You'd give quite the show badmouthing Childe."

"Wha--" You stumbled backwards and knocked into Aether. The two of you shared a look of shock, concern, and betrayal. "This is all under Childe's jurisdiction?"

"Uh-huh," the agent lifted his mask slightly and wiped at his busted lip. "He should be on his way back to Liyue Harbor by now, if you wanna try and take it up with him. But I'm tellin' you he ain't gonna budge."

..........................

You stood alone in the rain. Zhongli had arranged for a proper funeral and had refused to charge you for the provided services. He had even managed to retrieve one of Granny's necklaces from the Fatui's grasp, and gave it to you. He and Aether were alongside you, what...twenty minutes ago? They decided to leave you alone in front of the new gravestone to grieve. The funeral was simple, per your request to hold true to Granny's wishes. The entire village had grieved with you.

"I'm sorry I came too late for a visit, Granny." The words came out robotic and emotionless. The look on your face was blank. You placed a small bouquet of glaze lilies on top of the stone; Zhongli had you sing to them before picking them. "Things got busy, and Childe...well, I'm sure you met him, didn't you?" You let out a dry bitter laugh that blended with the sound of raindrops. "I love you. Thank you for taking care of me even if I was a brat sometimes."

Could it be that you had been the cause of her death just like you had caused your parents'? Just how much blood was on your hands?

You felt nothing yet everything at the same time. Your eyes were dry. After the initial shock, you hadn't shed a single tear. Thus was your usual reaction to death; you were usually at peace with the idea of it. If it was their time, it was their time. But you were not convinced her death was caused by her heart.

Childe. Could he have resorted to such extremes to get the house? Or was it for something more? Perhaps he was the true danger Xiao had warned you about.

Your chest ached, desperate to release the pent up storm of emotions whirling through you. The wind picked up for a moment. "Xiao?" Your hoarse greeting was met with a grim-looking yaksha. It was possible you were just imagining him in a time of need. You hadn't seen him in a month now.

Xiao blinked and gave you a once-over as he stood beside you. He had heard your sorrow like it was blaring in his ears. His eyes fell to the gravestone, and his expression saddened further. "She's dead." His question of disbelief sounded more like a tactless statement of fact.

"Yeah," you half-winced, half-scoffed at his remark. "She's dead." You knew all too well that he didn't mean any harm. "Why're you standing in the rain?"

"I don't concern myself with the weather, but you should be inside. Mortals are fragile."

"I don't particularly care at the moment." Your words cut through the rain like a blade of ice.

She has lost all of her family now, Xiao realized. He watched you with admiration at how strong you were acting even though it was clear you were trying not to break.

"I came back to visit and check in on her," you opened up after a few minutes of silence. His glance towards you prompted you to continue. "And then a little girl told me an adeptus had saved her toy bunny. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Mm."

"Did you...see her? My Granny?"

"I have spoken with her several times over the course of several years. I did not think it would be the last time. What happened?"

"Heart attack." You swallowed. "When I reached the house, the Fatui were clearing it out." You caught the color draining from Xiao's face. "What? Do you know something?"

"So my suspicions were correct," Xiao muttered distastefully. He looked around the graveyard. "You're sure they all left?"

"Yes. Zhongli said that before she died she had signed a contract to hand the house over. But she wouldn't do that so easily."

Satisfied with his scan of their surroundings, Xiao folded his arms across his chest. "I told you I would inform you of our predicament when the time is right. The time is now."

"After my Granny just died?" Your undirected anger manifested at his words.

"The Fatui are after the two of us."

"Why?"

"Our guess is they wish to create adepti soldiers or yakshas using the technique I used on you when you were a child." Your eyes raised at 'our.' Xiao's gaze flicked to you briefly. "Zhongli."

"Wait, why would Zhongli be involved with this in the first place?"

"He is the former Lord of Geo, Rex Lapis--"

"Wait wait wait, he's what?! But that's not possible, Rex Lapis is--"

"--Only a select few know his identity. Do not go around telling." You nodded, head spinning from all this new information. "Childe was tasked with identifying and obtaining us. If anyone gets their hands on an adeptus or your blood, it could spell the downfall of humankind."

"What exactly is my blood? Why would they want me?"

"My blood runs through your veins."

"U-um...?" You shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

"That is how I saved you," Xiao uncrossed his arms and faced you fully. "It allows you to withstand more adeptal energy than the ordinary human, which is why I can be so close to you. It also increases your body's healing capabilities. It is the only reason you survived that day. It is also the only reason you survived your lawachurl wound."

"...Why didn't you tell me this before?" You mumbled beneath your breath. The rain hitting the earth nearly overtook the sound of your voice. "We...We could have saved her." Your anger leaked through your voice. It wanted something to blame, something to lash out at. You caught yourself before you could say or think something you didn't mean. It was a heart attack. Xiao is not to blame for this. Childe is the enemy.

"Childe was listening in on our conversations. I could not disclose this information to you so we would have the advantage to work in the dark against the him." He stared down at the gravestone. "I am...sorry. I did not recognize the stress it would put her through. She was optimistic and happy when I last saw her."

You shook your head. "I doubt it caused the heart attack. I just want to know what they did to make her sell the house," your hands curled into fists. "Childe will pay for this."

The two of you silently stood in the rain for some time before Xiao held his hand out to you. "You will get sick if you stay out here longer. Let us meet with the rest of the team." You placed your injured hand in his, having forgot that it was aching the entire time. Xiao's eyes narrowed at this, but he did not question you. With your blood, it would heal by tomorrow morning.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shot #genshin one shot #genshin fanfiction

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lizisshortforlizard · 2 years

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Living Dangerously - Chapter 15

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: one c-bomb, one mention of pregnancy and one mention of physical abuse by a parent

Word count: ~38.7k (15 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @howlingmadlady @heresthefanfiction @ocfairygodmother

Read on Ao3

Chapter 14 | Chapter 16

Kickstart My Heart - Mötley Crüe

Govan, Scotland

1974

Her right palm was stinging. Govan High School, still stuck in the Dark Ages, showed no sign of moving with the times and giving up corporal punishment for its students. Lizzy had been issued with the doom-laden words wait behind after class, and then given ten of the best for talking back.

Her Biology teacher, Miss Crawford, placed the wooden ruler back in the chipped mug full of chalk fragments on her desk and sat down.

At least it wasn’t the tawse this time. That leather strap stung like a mother-

“What’s going on with you, Lizzy?”

Lizzy just shrugged and kept her head down, rubbing the burn out of her skin.

“I spoke with your sister. She told me you hadn’t been home recently?”

“No’ fer a while. Ah live wi’ Granny and Granda’ noo.”

“And your father?”

Straight to the heart. Lizzy tried her utmost not to snap when she answered, she didn’t want her other hand to receive the same treatment.

“I heard Da lost his job at the shipyard, and then-“ She swallowed hard. “-ah’ve no seen him.”

I miss him so much.

“I see.”

“Can ah go noo?”

“Not just yet.”

Jings, whit’s she got planned fer me?

Miss Crawford hesitated, tapping her heel, trying to decide what to say next. “You’re a clever girl, Lizzy. It’s upsetting to watch you give up.”

“Ah’ve no’ given up.” Lizzy was indignant. “Ahm still comin’ tae school.”

“You’ve given up on yourself.” Eyebrows raised high over the top of wire frames.

Life hadn’t been the same since that fateful birthday the year before. Lizzy had started smoking, and drinking more. A lot more: Granda was stunningly oblivious that his whiskey bottles were getting weaker and paler almost by the day. She hated herself for it.

She’d stumble through the school gates, late; clothes unironed and hair blowing wild in the wind. Maisie wouldn’t be seen dead with her now, Connor had dumped her after the pregnancy scare. Her shoulder still ached when it rained, which was often. It hadn’t healed well, and every dull pain reminded her of what her own mother had done.

Lizzy had resigned herself that this was how life was going to be from now on. Sad and grey. Forever.

“However, your last homework task was excellent.” Miss Crawford said quietly.

“Wis it?” Lizzy tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her green tartan skirt, suddenly too tight. “Ah wis…takin’ the piss.”

She’d gotten bored and frustrated with the questions, and instead scribbled over the top of the worksheet. She’d ended up writing an Attenborough-esque blurb for the Loch Ness Monster that wouldn’t have been out of place on Zoo Quest, complete with diagram.

Miss Crawford rummaged in her desk and pulled out the homework task with Nessie proudly front and centre. “Maybe so, but you’ve no idea how dull it is reading the exact same answer thirty times over. I gave you full marks.”

“But ah didnae dae it right?” Lizzy was scowling, expression dark as the clouds outside. “Miss, are ye makin’ fun o’ me?”

“No- forget the homework for the moment.” The teacher took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, sighing. “Let’s try something else, alright? If you could go anywhere in the world, be anything you wanted to be, what would you do?”

Lizzy decided to humour her teacher. The red-haired, headscarf-wearing young woman stuck out like a sore thumb among the other faculty members. She was almost glamorous, and you didn’t often see female science teachers, not in the depths of Govan at least. Lizzy actually liked her rather a lot. Even if she was on the quick side with dishing out ruler-related punishments.

“Ah dunno. Just awa’. Somewhere else.” She looked around the classroom walls, faded posters with torn edges and graffiti in the corners (Cuddy waz ere, Heather F. smells) boasting titles such as The Wonder of Frogs, The Mesozoic Era and Wild Cats of The World. She picked one that had always caught her eye, a grainy black-and-white silhouette of giraffes walking past a big tree with a wide base and spindly branches high up. “Where’s that?”

Her teacher turned to look, trying not to grin, just internally bursting that her lost student was finally responding to something. “Africa I think, maybe Tanzania or Kenya. Would you like to go there?”

“Uh-huh.” Lizzy nodded and stared out of the window, growing uncomfortable now that she had opened up.

The teacher sensed she was losing her. “You know the University of Glasgow has an excellent Zoology school?”

Lizzy shook her head firmly, getting a whiff of stale cigarette smoke as her curls bounced. “Lassies like me dinna go tae university, Miss Crawford. Ah thought it wis fer posh fowk. Fowk wi’ money. Rich families.”

“Not necessarily. If you get a little part-time job you could just about survive.”

“If ah git a wee job…whit are ye’ sayin’, Miss?”

“I can’t sit your exams for you, Lizzy. But if you pull yourself together and get the marks you need for a place, I’ll help you apply. It’s not too late.” Miss Crawford pushed her glasses back up her nose. “You’re more than capable.”

Lizzy slumped back in disbelief. “Why wid ye’ dae a daft thing like help me? Ah’ve been such a cunt tae ye’ this year! Aw, sorry-“

Her teacher just blinked and muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Well at least you’re aware you’ve been an…ah, cunt.”

“Miss!” Lizzy was startled, afraid to giggle in case she got the ruler again. But she did like Biology, liked her tough but fair teacher. Really liked the idea of seeing a real-life giraffe one day. Maybe a lion. Maybe even an elephant.

She felt something she hadn’t in a very long time. A spark of excitement, that maybe her life didn’t have to end in the same place it began, down by the grim, dreary shipyards of the River Clyde.

“Lizzy, let me help you. That-“ Miss Crawford pointed at the poster again. “That’s within your grasp. You’ve got more fight in you than this. Don’t you dare give up.”

***

Sitting in Richardson’s office, covered in drying dinosaur blood, Lizzy rubbed the palm of her hand anxiously, itching with some old memory.

All her boss had done so far was shuffle around, making a big show of pulling her personnel folder out of his filing cabinet and laying the leaves of paper flat on his desk. Lizzy could see her own face blankly staring back from her passport photo.

One of her professors that she’d had a less than favourable opinion of had done exactly the same routine before her PhD viva, trying to rattle her. It hadn’t worked. And it wasn’t going to work this time either.

Lizzy knew what she had to do. Make the first move and take control, assert herself, even if all she wanted was to flee out into the jungle and never return. She cleared her throat.

“I would like to apologize-“ gritting her teeth, not sincere in the slightest, but it would have to do. “-for the part I played with the Maiasa-“

Richardson slammed his fist on the desk with a bang, right down on top of her photograph, making her jump and grip the seat beneath her to keep from toppling over.

“Oh, we’ll get to that. We’ve got an altogether different problem, you and I, Miss Armstrong.”

Don’t bloody well cut me off!

Lizzy clenched her fingers so hard on the base of her chair that it started to creak, her mouth forming into a snarl. “Doctor Armstrong, please, if you don’t mind.”

***

Kathy was reliving the past quarter hour over and over again. Dropping Lizzy off with the goats, waving her goodbye, and making abrupt but pleasant conversation with Muldoon on the way back to base. She’d been waiting in line beside him in the canteen when every radio had screamed in unison with the mayday call from the paddock.

They had stared at each other then bolted for the door at the same moment, Kathy throwing herself headfirst into the passenger seat of the Jeep and yelling “Drive, drive, drive!”

There was no mistake that they had heard Lizzy shouting in the background of the garbled message. As they bounced along the track Kathy knew, she just knew somehow that her girl would be there, elbow deep in the mess of it all. Lizzy couldn’t help herself. God, she hated being right sometimes.

They arrived too late, and witnessed the way Richardson had spoken to her. Suspended. It didn’t seem fair at all, it had all happened so quickly. One moment everything fine, and the next just…not. She had better not be thrown off the island.

I am not wrangling the rest of these boys without her, never mind the dinosaurs. It would be like herding goddamn cats.

Kathy could feel herself being gently buffeted by the waves of annoyance radiating from Muldoon. He had been standing rigid beside the prep room door, but then sprung into action. “To Hell with this. They can manage without us. Baker, come with me.”

Kathy scurried after him back to the Jeep.

“I need you to do me a favour. You’re a fast runner.” The Jeep engine turned over for a good few seconds before finally starting.

“Okay?”

“Go to the control room and talk to Arnold. Get him to pull up the video footage of the paddock from just before the stampede.”

“Gotcha.” Kathy clung onto the door handle as they tore along after the other Jeep. “You don’t think Lizzy did it.”

“I don’t think the damn woman started it, but she did her best to fix it and the rest of them saw someone who could take all the blame.”

“Because she’s a troublemaker.”

“Of sorts, and she’s too proud to ask for help.”

Kathy nodded in agreement. “You like her.”

In an instant Muldoon was transported back in Kenya, years ago, with his daughter in the passenger seat instead of Baker, clutching her schoolbag and swinging her legs. Grinning ear to ear because of an encounter they’d had driving home from school through a market.

Baba, that pretty lady smiled at you! She had yelled in Kiswahili through the open window, which had made the woman in question beam even more.

But he’d ignored both the woman and his daughter.

No, still too soon.

“She’s alright.”

Kathy tutted. Lizzy was obviously so much more than alright to him, but she wasn’t going to argue when he was this fired up. “Yeah, okay. I’m totally down for mission Save Her Ass. But if I’m going to the control room, where are you going?”

“To find out what Richardson’s up to. I don’t like him dragging Li- Armstrong off like that with no explanation. If it’s a formal disciplinary both of us need to be there.”

“He didn’t even yell at any of the guys, he went straight for her.” Kathy was still seething at the injustice of it all.

“Indeed. Just hope she hasn’t ran her damn mouth off at him before I catch up or there’s not much I can do.”

***

Matters were quickly escalating in Richardson’s office and Lizzy was beginning to see the red mist when a worrying noise cut through her senses. The office door handle moved repeatedly but the door itself wouldn’t budge. Lizzy’s head shot around. Someone was trying to get in and couldn’t.

She was locked in. “Why is-“

Lizzy had already formed an exit route in her head before Richardson could answer.

Plant pot on the desk. I can crack that over his head. Window. Chair. Throw chair through window. Throw self through window. Escape. He wasn’t that much taller than her, she could take him if necessary. Easily. She was from Glasgow, she’d certainly taken bigger.

Three very angry-sounding thumps were visited upon the office door.

Her boss was quick to recover himself. “Oh, silly me. Just a reflex. You can’t be too careful with people going where they shouldn’t.”

Lizzy didn’t return his smile. “You’d better get that. It might be important.” She leaned as far away as she could when Richardson hurried past to answer.

She swivelled around to look when she heard the familiar voice.

“Everything all right?” Muldoon wasn’t looking at Richardson, instead looking past him.

Lizzy widened her eyes and shook her head minutely, grimacing. Get me out of here.

“Just having a chat about Elizabeth’s attitude problem.” Richardson moved to block Muldoon’s view to Lizzy.

“I see…does that usually require a closed and locked office door?

“Just a reflex.” Richardson muttered again.

“In your hurry to tell her off, did you forget that for a suspension at least two of us need to agree to it? And Armstrong can have a witness, if she wants?”

Lizzy stiffened. Oh, really?

“It was more about the way she spoke-“

“And I’ll remind you she’s still due a break. Can’t have her suing InGen for unfair treatment, can we? Her man’s a lawyer, she’d win.”

“Fine. Maybe we do all need some time to calm down. We’ll resolve this later today.” Richardson knew he was beaten. “You can go for now, Elizabeth.”

Didn’t have to tell her twice. Lizzy practically hurdled the chair in her hurry to leave and let the office door slam behind her, near-jogging down the corridor.

“Everything alright, Carrie?” Realising she still resembled a burgundy-toned Jackson Pollock of blood and dirt, Lizzy managed a tiny laugh. It didn’t sound like Muldoon was that angry with her. Or at least he was doing a bloody good job of hiding it.

“Thanks for-“

“Save it. For future reference-“ and Lizzy shrank back. “-wait for my permission before you go into the paddocks. And certainly don’t ever do anything Kennedy tells you to again. Yes, I know it was him.”

“I’m sorry.” This time Lizzy was nothing but sincere, she really meant it.

“It’s done now. But noted.”

“It just happened so fast-“

“It usually does. I am, of course, very disappointed in you. That’s what I’m supposed to say, anyway. Let’s go to my office and you’ll tell me what really happened.”

“Our office?” Lizzy said hopefully.

“You’ve got some nerve to ask at a time like this.”

“I prefer to call it tenacity.”

In that moment, her bravado was all a front. The adrenaline had caught up and she was exhausted. Lizzy forgot what she was covered in and leaned against the pristine magnolia wall while she waited for the door to be unlocked.

“Don’t-“ Muldoon started. “Never mind.”

Lizzy sighed, couldn’t anything go right today? “Apologies. Add it to my list of offences: destruction of company property.”

“Bit ominous.”

“Yes…” She’d left various smudges on the wall, including two faint red handprints. “A warning to those who dare approach. Could have been worse, could have been an arse print.” Lizzy mumbled, then snorted at the mental image.

“Not sure what kind of thing that would be a warning against.” Muldoon, drier than a desert wind as usual.

Just laugh, once. I’m really trying.

“No, but the comedy value would be terrific. Hurry up and let me in.”

The mix of fatigue and frustration meant that there was something she really had to do to settle herself, something she hadn’t needed for a very long time.

“Please excuse me.” Lizzy dropped to the middle of the floor and lay on her back looking up at the ceiling, parallel to the desk. Unlike the walls, the carpet tiles were a fetching dark blue and wouldn’t show up any blood.

“Do I want to know?” Muldoon stepped over her legs to get to his desk.

“I just- it’s a trick I do. It makes the angry fall out.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah. Lotta angry up here right now.” Lizzy tapped the side of her head. “How much trouble am I in?”

“Depends on how Baker’s getting on in the control room.”

“Oh!” Lizzy realized. “Ray! The cameras!“

Of course, why the Hell hadn’t that been Richardson’s first port of call before he blew up at me?

Muldoon glanced at the pair of boots sticking out from the other side of his desk and shook his head. Christ, but she’s strange. “You know, in spite of the inevitable mountain of paperwork from this I should probably be thanking you.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.” The voice from the floor said.

“You’ve proved that once again, I was right and operations in the park aren’t quite up to scratch.”

At that precise second Kathy knocked and leaned around the doorframe. “Hey, girl! He rescued you?”

“Not a moment too soon.” Lizzy scrambled to her feet. “What’s up?”

“Ray’s found it. Come and see. Why were you on the floor?”

***

“Jee-hee-heez…” Ray’s cigarette nearly fell from his mouth when Lizzy walked in. “You weren’t kidding, honey!”

“Little early for Halloween, huh Ray-Ray? Check it out, you two.” Kathy pointed.

Playing over and over again on the screen behind Arnold from multiple camera views was a loop of the Maiasaurs stampeding, Julian and Travis running outdoors, then Lizzy sprinting up to the prep room door as the timestamp ticked forward.

The engineer grinned widely at her. “How’s that for candid camera? Ray Arnold, Eye in the Sky, what’d I tell ya?”

Lizzy practically pounced on him but stopped herself just in time. “Thank you, so much.”

“No big, I’m on your side. There’s more, babygirl.”

“Oh yeah?”

Ray tapped some keys and twirled a dial, switching to a different camera view and zooming in on Lizzy hiding behind a tree.

Kathy burst out laughing. “Hot damn, look at your face!”

“Yeah, okay, okay. What would you do if you heard Rexy roar from someplace she wasn’t meant to be?” Lizzy groaned and gently tapped Kathy’s arm.

Ray zoomed in even further so Lizzy’s grainy features filled the screen. “That’s some good shit. I’m putting that one on the wall for when I’m having a bad day.”

“Except every day is a bad day for you.” Lizzy murmured.

“Don’t. What else can you do when the List of Doom is neverending?” Ray span his chair around to face them. “I had to call Cambridge about all these bugs. They’re talking about sending one of their computer guys down here to do some work on site.”

“Please be a hot guy, please be a hot guy…” Kathy crossed her fingers and prayed.

“Talking of things sent to the island, Liz, parcel for you in the mail.” Arnold handed her a chunky parcel wrapped in brown paper.

“Oooh!” Lizzy started tearing it open.

Early birthday gift from her darling fiancé? As much as she’d rather not be reminded that day was fast approaching.

Thankfully not, but it was something she’d ordered and then promptly forgotten about. Two new books: Dinosaur Detectives and Planting the Past.

Muldoon picked up on the fact that Lizzy was probably used to reading a much smaller font. “Little below your level, aren’t they? How did you find out about them?”

“Never you mind.” Lizzy started thumbing her way through Detectives. Fully illustrated. That was a good sign. “Actually, I got it out of Gennaro during one of our many stimulating conversations that these guys are already on our radar. They’re in Montana, Snake- oh, look! This is one of ours!”

Already distracted, Lizzy flipped the book around and showed everyone the Apatosaur skeleton on the page.

“Hey, can I read the plant one too?” Kathy leaned over Lizzy’s shoulder. “Need to brush up on my herbivores. Just in case.”

“Not necessary.” Muldoon contradicted.

“Hey, I’ll read it if I want to!” The realization dawned on Kathy’s face. “Wait, you mean- you’re putting me on Carnivores? Permanently? For real?!” Her expression turned into unconfined glee and she looked like she might start crying any second.

“Keep it to yourself. Both of you. It’s not official, yet.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Liz, hold me.”

“I’m still covered in-“

“I don’t care.”

Lizzy obliged. “See, I told you you’d get it.” Kathy’s success made her beam with pride, the best she had felt all day, even with the possibility they still might be split up, sorted into different teams. It was brilliant news for her friend, who’d had her heart set on working with the meat-eaters since day one.

The control room was calm again apart from the hum of the computers and the breathless sounds of Kathy quietly losing her mind, still crushed against Lizzy’s side in a bear hug.

I still have to go back and talk to Richardson later.

Lizzy pushed the unwelcome thought away and tried to keep her smile in place.

Things will work out. I’m needed here. And I have people who are on my side.

“Gosh, I daren’t ask what you’re planning on doing with me, where I’ll end up after the incident in the paddock. So what happens now?” Lizzy queried Muldoon.

“You need to get yourself cleaned up before your next bollocking and I need to go and have a few words with young Master Kennedy.”

***

Gennaro had to admit he may have panicked a little in summoning Hammond back to Isla Nublar at short notice. The tycoon was not happy about having his plans nixed for something so apparently trivial as one-and-a-half missing fingers.

“For Heaven’s sake, Donald! What was the bloody creature even doing out of the kennel? Was she taking it for a walk? A little stroll around the compound?”

“Lori- ah, Dr Ruso has made it very clear that the animal opened the cage by itself. She has some concerns about the relative intelligence at such a young age-“

“Poppycock!” Hammond waved his arms. “Someone didn’t shut the door properly, a mistake they won’t be making twice, let me tell you!”

“Dr Ruso wants the animal moved over here.” Gennaro said quietly. She had demanded, actually. Get that [redacted] thing out of my facility had been yelled down the phone at considerable volume.

Hammond spun around, quite nimbly for his age. “That’s her problem to fix. Tell her to take it up with Wu and Richardson, if she isn’t up to the job anymore.”

Gennaro trembled at the thought of having to talk to Ruso again so soon. “And about her injury, Mr Hammond-“

“Just deal with it, Donald. Pay Ruso what she wants and get her to sign whatever we have to for her to keep mum.”

Gennaro’s shoulders drooped. He didn’t like when Hammond was in this sort of dismissive mood, quoting his trademark spare no expense here, there and everywhere. “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“Good. Can’t have her going to the press. At least it was her and not a paying visitor. Now where’s María got to with that tea? This isn’t good for my blood pressure, you know-“

Gennaro supposed Hammond had a point. Staff injuries were to be expected, unavoidable really, even with the best intentions, but if something happened to a guest once the park finally opened…

Well, it was better to troubleshoot these sorts of problems and deal with them early on. Just in case.

Gennaro glanced down at the daily American newspapers on Hammond’s coffee table, the front page catching his attention.

“CHILEAN FARMERS RABIES VACCINE TRIAL ONGOING”

That damned Biosyn was at it again, always lurking just a few corners behind InGen. Must have a Hell of a good team over there. Nothing sticks to them, that Dodgson fellow especially. He was notorious.

Would it hurt to take some inspiration from them?

The headline combined with Hammond’s words gave him an idea. What Jurassic Park needed was a public relations manager, and fast.

Just in case.

***

Thanks for reading!

A bit more lighthearted than the last chapter, but still a storm is coming!

I am having A TIME but writing my stupid wee story and living the lives of these characters helps a lot.

#jurassic park female oc #living dangerously #welcome to jurassic park #jurassic park oc #ocfairygodmother #oc community #my ocs #oc: dr lizzy armstrong #my writing #my fanfiction #robert muldoon #robert muldoon x female oc #john hammond #donald gennaro #ray arnold

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