#but like hi if it was that easy i wouldn't have gotten this disease in the first place

[mothmanperson]

||Teamaker, Peacemaker||

??? x gn!reader

tw: spit

cw: enemies to lovers???, rivals to something, tension, spitting on ones tea, spicy but no smut sorry :(

i was drinking tea and listening to two feet so blame those for this.

i made this so you could basically imagine any male harbinger in this but i think childe, scaramouche or dottore fit best.

crossposted on ao3

for both male and gender neutral reader since there are no pronouns used

part two. part three

FEMALE ALIGNED DO NOT INTERACT (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY)

you held back all your anger, your face remaining the same stone cold like it has been before, like it always has been.

the tsaritsa wanted you to mend your 'relationship' with him. the ungrateful little man(bitch) besides you.

you were sure you were both more tense than ever. seething hatred radiated off of your bodies. you could feel it and you were sure everyone else could aswell. even the guards outside were sweating.

this all wouldn't have happened if he just kept his mouth shut.

this rivalry of yours has been going on since the day the two of you had been introduced to each other, you could just feel his bad vibes the exact time he stepped into your line of vision.

the mocking look in his eyes, as if you were beneath him.

unbelievable, when in reality it was the other way around.

but no. day by day he continued to laugh at your face for everything you did.

the way you talked, walked and went about your day.

and archon's forgive you made one oh-so little mistake. he would never let you live it down.

forever.

if smugness and malicious intent were a person it had to be him. him, with his stupid little grin like he had something against you, like he would tear you down and get you on your knees.

no.

that can't happen, it won't.

those times are long over.

when her highness was done explaining your 'punishment', the both of you were escorted to a secluded room. it hasn't been in use for ages but it was still cleaned and a nice fire was burning to compete against the harsh weather of snezhnaya.

while you sat down on the seat which had its back to the fire, he didn't went to sit down at all, rather looking at the small collection of books in the bookshelf.

before the guards left you requested for some of your precious tea, you have just gotten a new delivery yesterday and you were delighted.

you would have tried it yesterday but your 'problem' just had to open his mouth. and then you did something you very much regretted now.

you could hear a 'tsk' form your fellow harbinger, though he still had his back turned.

"do you have a problem with me brewing tea? would you perhaps also like a cup?" you asked as you poured the hot water over the tea. the see-through water turning a warm yellow-orange almost instantly.

"oh no no- i just really don't get how someone could be so obsessed with something as simple as a cup of tea. it seems like a waste of time... i mean leaf water is all it really is, isn't it?" he answered and finally turned, his ever smug face present on his oh-so pretty face.

you really wanted to repeatedly slam it into the frozen ground so nothing was left but a clumpy mush of hair, bone, brain matter and blood.

who knows, with a little sugar it might make a good tea... then again you heard somewhere that human brain causes an incurable disease.

you watched him unimpressed as he sat opposite of you, your hand couldn't help but twitch in slight annoyance.

of course, he noticed.

"hah- you're to easy- as soon as i start talking bad about your 'passion', i press your buttons more and more- come on i know just raging inside. haha you really can't keep your emotions in check. what a bad example for a fatui harbinger" he laughed doen on you, as his eyes sharpened.

says you

he waited for your next move, your next slip up so he could tear you down more, so he might be able to make you able to beg him to stop, to get you down on your knees and beg for him to stop harassing you each and everytime you saw each other.

but not with you.

you closed your eyes and took a breath as you poured your tea, the infused steam of the tea filling your lungs.

it made you relax just slightly. it always has.

to his surprise, you poured a second cup of tea and pushed it to his side of the table.

he took a glance at the steaming cup and then back to you. his before confused face turned sly again, he took his cup to his lips and for a second you really thought he was gonna drink it.

but rather he collected a good amount of spit in his mouth, before disrespecting the golden water by spitting in it.

your grip on your cup tightened and your eyebrow twitched.

he stared at you the whole time he did it. intensely so. you saw something flicker in his eyes you couldn't quite read.

he set his cup back down, and took advantage of your shock as he took your own cup and downed it like it was fire water. another disrespecting move on his side.

(he regretted that since it burned his mouth, throat and stomach. he would have to deal with that later)

with a seemingly innocent grin he pushed his cup to you.

"i'm offering you my tea as a peacemaking contract, drink it and i'm never going to bother you again" he chuckled, he had to hold back his laughter.

so he thinks he has won, huh?

you face turned cold again, and with slow hands you reached for the cup. you could still see the thick bubblly liquid swimming on top of your his (your?) tea.

with stared at him the whole time.

scanning his cute little face twitch and change into confusion, shock then disgust. it was amusing to see.

your lips met his cups rim and you took a sip out of the cup. you both stared each other down, no one wanting to submit, to admit defeat and back off.

with your second sip you finished the small cup and you set it down back on the table.

he felt shivers down his spine when you licked your lips, getting each and every last drop of the hot liquid before you hummed in delight.

"it had quite the taste to it. maybe i should let you spit in my tea more often, or maybe put in something different from your body"

"now then, it is time for me to take my leave, since we're on even ground now we have nothing to talk about anymore no? our request has been fulfilled" and thus you left. and had you been turned around you would have seen the blush covering his face ears and neck.

he didn't want to know what you were implying (he knew)

you now had the same smug and sly grin on your face that he had before. and his vanished without a trace.

you stood up.

"fucking bitch"

#genshin impact #gn reader #scaramouche #kunikuzushi #dottore #ill dottore #childe #tartagila #childe tartaglia ajax #fatui harbingers #genshin harbingers #x reader #x gn reader #dom gn reader #dom reader #dom male reader #male reader #sub genshin #sub scaramouche #sub dottore #sub childe #spicy writing #no smut

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

could i request the bishops + lambert with a rat reader that's a master thief, but is from a place where the old faith didn't have a really tight grasp so the reader hasn't really ever heard of the cult or the old faith?

Leshy

Being a master thief has gotten you surprisingly far in life, stealing things from berry seeds to bags of gold. Enough to comfortably get by. You're just very stealthy in all you do.

When you visited Darkwood for the first time, it was fairly easy sneaking around by using the trees and bushes as cover.

You were practically invisible to the average person and not even the Droppers noticed you.

Unfortunately, the worms beneath your feet sensed you wandering too close to Leshy's temple to their liking, being quick to inform their leader of your intrusion.

You ended up facing him, and his first accusation was that you were stealing for Lamb's cult.

Imagine his confusion when you respond with "who?"

He thinks you're playing dumb, though you sound dead serious when you claimed not to know who they were....nor did you know who he was.

"I am Bishop Leshy of Darkwood! Bearer of the chaotic Green Crown! Everyone in the Old Faith knows my name!" He boasts, thinking this will somehow jog your memory.

But the truth is that where you're from, the Old Faith's gospel didn't really latch onto your society. So you knew nothing of the bishops, nor their war with the Lamb's cult.

Your only interest is the price Leshy paid for that Green Crown.

Despite feeling insulted, he decides to let you go since you aren't allied with Lamb (plus as the youngest bishop he didn't rly know what to do with an outsider like yourself).

He only demands that you never returned, lest you be strung up in the trees or buried six feet under.

You just took some souvenirs in the form of gold nuggets and pretty little worm skulls for the journey home.

Kallamar

The worm's more paranoid brother, on the other hand, had his fair share of outsiders trying to weave their way into the cult...

Only to snatch up glowing crystal clusters and raid shipwrecks for treasures.

Midas was one such thief until he was banished for redistributing the treasures and acting like a "god of fortune" to clueless followers.

Anchordeep has a law forbidding followers from selling crystals for profit and trespassing onto shipwrecked areas.

In his realm, the punishment fits the crime as it consists of the accused's hands being infected with some disease--ranging from severe itching to boils....or even necrosis.

You're totally unaware of this law (not that you'd care about the law to begin with) and go about your thievery business like usual.

Somehow you avoided alerting Kallamar--even tricking him into falsely accusing others of stealing crystals--but he eventually found out and had you brought to his palace for interrogation.

Even though you tell him you've never heard of the Old Faith nor his laws, he's certain you're just making excuses.

"It's just common sense...you don't walk into someone's house and just take whatever you want!!" He snaps.

While he's generous not to punish you with necrosis or boils...your hands are left constantly itchy for several days, persisting even after you returned home emptyhanded. They ached and hurt all over.

You didn't realize you damn near scratched your own skin off until you noticed blood under your nails.

Heket

You'd think there wouldn't be much to steal in swampy, humid, smelly Anura. But you were quite wrong.

Back at home, your folks got shipments of menticide mushrooms (which are a delicacy as both a soup and, of course, hallucinogens).

They never got spores to grow their own supply, though, and lately Anura's trades have been lackluster.

So you decided to travel there and do some "charity work" with your master thief skills. Plus find a few keepsakes along the way.

Besides the mushrooms, nobody in your village knew much about this domain....nor were you aware of its arrogant amphibian ruler.

You were in cahoots with Sozo's followers, visiting their grotto and camping grounds, stealing heaps of shrooms for them in exchange for gold and tarot cards.

Ofc you'd pocket some of the spores for yourself.

Eventually your thievery was discovered after a Mushroomo accidentally sold you out to Heket while they were high, leading to her finding and interrogating you.

She blatantly accuses you of stealing for Lamb...but is taken aback when you admit to not knowing them, the bishops, or the Old Faith.

"Your folks have traded with Anurians for ages....yet you know not of our religion??"

"Some of the elders have, but none of your "doctrines" really stuck around for long."

Heket finds this revelation most puzzling, but in her confusion you flee her temple, and she barks at the guards to stop you.

Fortunately for you, no frog there could leap fast enough to keep up.

Shamura

Of all four rulers, this wise old spider had the greatest understanding that the Old Faith's gospel cannot touch every bit of land out there..

It's simply impossible for everyone in the world to know about it (let alone conform to its teachings) even if all their followers combined went on missionaries to spread the word.

That being said, they weren't completely alarmed when the bugs informed them that they caught an outsider--specifically a thief, aka you.

You were hoping to take some prized pieces of pottery and gold, but you got caught in a trap and busted big time.

Normally you're fearless, but being face-to-face with the Bishop of War while being webbed up in a silk cocoon (and seeing similar victims strung-up on the ceiling of the temple) had you scared shitless.

You were 100% convinced that Shamura was going to dissolve your guts into acid and feast on your corpse.

And yet...they spoke to you rather calmly, curious about your place of origin rather than angry over your thievery.

They ask you different things about your village, what religion it follows, how much it knows of the OF, etc.

Their followers kept reminding them that you're a criminal and should be prosecuted as such.

Eventually they do, but instead of death you're given a chance to earn your freedom by participating in a fighting pit.

Somehow you win and get to take all of the loser's money.

Lamb

First, they notice their offerings mysteriously vanishing from the shrines around the cult.

Then they realized all the gold bars made from their refineries were suddenly gone, the chests completely empty.

When they mentioned this during a sermon, half their followers are confused...while the other half began pointing fingers at each other and start arguing.

Lamb sees them accusing each other all the time of stealing, so he usually takes the accuser's word for it and puts the suspect in the pillory for a little while.

But things get messy as the problem continues and they're running out of materials to build pillories with.

They'd rather not be chastised by the One Who Waits for causing such discord in his cult, so they temporarily halt their crusades and investigate.

Eventually, Lamb discovers it's been you all along, but since you're a rat...for a moment they believed you were related to Ratau and Ratoo.

You don't know who tf they are..nor were you aware that you've been stealing from a cult.

Honestly, they're impressed that you managed to evade them for this long, but displeased with the fact your actions nearly tore apart their entire following.

Since you aren't affiliated with the Old Faith, they don't punish you harshly, yet want you to understand there's consequences.

Your sentence is community service for a day and apologizing to every follower.

It's humbling as hell, but you get through it and Lamb lets you take some treasures home.

#clanask #anonymous #cotl x reader #cult of the lamb x reader #bishop kallamar #bishop shamura #bishop leshy #bishop heket #thief reader #cotl lamb #headcanons #platonic

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Floret full

Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader, mild Fishlegs x Reader

Words: 3467

Your heart’s gone sour, and like all dead things, seeds sprout in its wake. Eventually they grow too large for you to handle on your own. You’ve come to terms with it. For now, you just spend your time flying under the radar, taking long walks and giving good advice. It’s a lonely life, but it’s yours.

Tags: flower disease, hanahaki disease, Unrequited love, angst, postcanon, gn reader

<Previous

“Hey,” You leaned against the open door frame, “Have you figured out what it means, yet?”

“O-oh, hi,” Fishlegs looked up from his book, one you noticed had an array of different plants etched onto the leather cover, “Sort of.”

You pursed your lips. You didn’t like having to come to him with this, honestly preferring to keep it to yourself, but there wasn’t anywhere else to find knowledge like this on Berk. 

“It’s a wild pansy.” He started, hesitating.

“Yes,” You urged him on. You knew this already.

“Wild Pansies symbolize love, and nostalgia.” Your heart stuttered as he just confirmed what you already knew. However, you couldn’t honestly find it in yourself to be surprised. It wasn't like there was much for you to do. As it was, you were just exploring a few whims.

 Fishlegs closed his book, carefully pushing back his chair. Along the side of one wall is a large bookcase. He carefully slots his book along one of the lower shelves.

“...Is it useful?” You look away, rubbing at your arm. It is covered in a heavy layer of furs, mostly to hide the thinning meat. You are all skin and bones now, and it is getting more and more difficult to cover up. Even now, the petals tickle at your throat.

“For skin rashes and bumps, mostly,” He looks at you meaningfully, “I-Is there a reason you’re asking?”

You furrowed your brows.

“I’ve told you,” You said, touching your face. There’s nothing on it, is there? “I just found a flower on the far side of the island. I figured it might be useful. That’s all.”

Fishlegs sighed. You rub your temples as the room spins a little, the silence unbearably stuffy.

“How’s Ruffnut?” Fishlegs perks up slightly at the mention of his pregnant wife, though the sad look on his face hasn’t abated. You are not sure which of two issues he’s thinking of, but you both are aware that he has no right to insert himself into your business. The two of you are not even close enough to qualify as acquaintances. 

The two of you had a shared interest, and in another world you might have been friends. As of now, the closest you’d ever gotten was a glance from a distant stranger you’d mistaken for someone else. Not enough for any sort of real love. And, he wasn’t the type to let anyone but himself care for his dragon if he could help it.

It didn’t take any close bond to understand you, however. Yours was an open secret. Hidden barely under a veil out of view, easy to find if anyone thought to look for it, but inconvenient, easier to leave a mystery. 

You tuned him out, thinking back to earlier in that day

Your line has always turned out weak-hearted people. More lovers and poets than warriors. It’s what made you different from the rest. It’s what excluded you, made you an outcast.

You stayed detached and distant from most people anyways, as you were taught to. It wouldn't be good to get attached, you contracted the lover’s sickness. Unfortunately, it happened anyway.

You’d fallen into friendship with another little outcast a very, very long time ago. It was barely a memory now, a relic of a time long forgotten. 

You, the poor little dragon groomer, had spent your teen years in your dusty little stables with your fine-bristled brush and washcloth watching him adventure from afar. 

Your heart, so vulnerable and fragile, had slowly begun to beat for a place it didn’t belong.

“I just- I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Their relationship was on the rocks, it’s true. But that had nothing to do with you, you’d not step a foot into their business. They would overcome it and remain just as strong as they always had.

“Give it time,” You sighed, voice raspy, staring out over the oceans that surrounded New Berk, “You both need to cool off. Then you can talk.”

If they weren’t meant for each other then, they certainly were now. 

They, who spent hours, days, years fighting and loving and living together. There was no way that that hadn’t changed him irrevocably. Unrecognizably. So now it must have been that you didn’t love who he was, you loved the ghost of who he could have been. Who you might have known.

They were molded to a perfect fit. 

You could have only wished to have a fraction of what they had with anyone at all. It was only unfortunate how being a lover didn’t attract any love to you.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup bent to rub at his eyes. A budding beard, fluffy cape and respectable leather armor. He almost made up the perfect image of ‘young, promising Chief.’

His feet hug over the cliffside, swinging airily, displacing pebbles along the edge. The smell of fresh dew

Recent rainfall made wandering along the cliff sides dangerous. Neither of you cared for the danger. Hiccup’s years on dragonback made him reckless. Your years of yearning and distress made you apathetic. You found yourself along the cliffs often.

“That’s what everyone is always telling me. But I’m not sure I'm doing the right thing. I’m not sure I did the right thing.” He ranted.

“What’s right is subjective,” You twirled the stem of a flower between your fingers. You’d coughed it up before he’d gotten there. As his trusted confidant, you welcomed him as he dropped down besides you, always the listener. You didn’t have much of a voice to talk with anymore, anyways. Your throat was sore, voice scratchy.

“It’s unfortunate that, as Chief, you’re constantly at the mercy of others. She’s always been right for you, though, hasn’t she? You’ve loved her since we were kids. You loved her as a teen, you married her, so that hasn’t changed, has it? You’re going to have kids soon. You’re trying to have children. Don’t get cold feet. Don’t back out on her now.”

“I know, but… I don’t know if I’m right for her,” His voice cracked, “I feel like I’m holding her back.

“I know you haven’t considered anything else. There is no one else for you, is there?” You gave him a pointed look, urging him to not make a mistake he would ultimately regret, “She’s the only one who can decide that. She chose you. She’s wanted no one else since then, if she ever had at all.”

“Yeah… Yeah,” He slowly nodded an affirmative, staring up into the clouds as seabirds called to each other in the sky.  “I just… I miss Toothless. He was my best friend. I know it’s been years, but don’t know if I can be sure of anything without him here.”

You hummed. That was a sentiment you understood very well.

Death by flower was the coward’s way out. It was more honorable to go on your own terms, not led by some silly organ-led emotions. It was unvikingly. It was dishonorable. You hadn’t the courage or mind to do it, though. You didn’t want to die. And wasn’t that a bitter thought?

You’d always known that you might not have a choice.

You were tired.

You closed and opened your eyes in odd intervals as you strolled through the new forests. Your direction was aimless, just as it had been for many days. Sometimes it would bring you back into the village for food you couldn’t eat, sometimes it would bring you to other unreachable parts of the forests.

From lived experience, you knew that half of the danger of the flower disease was malnourishment. You’d seen plenty die to that before the roots and blossoms had grown tall enough to choke, and to suffocate. You wondered which death would claim you first.

The higher fields located above on the cliffs were unreachable to you, too weak and weary to climb upwards. Besides making it harder to breathe, your flowers made it near impossible to eat. As soon as anything touched the back of your throat, you’d be sent into another coughing fit. 

Of course you could, appropriately, feel your days coming to an end. You haven't had much energy for a long while. 

After you expended the last of your reserves finding your way through a thicket, you stopped by a small stream, hoping for a quiet place to rest.

You stared at the ever moving water. You imagined what it would be like, to be so unaffected.

This new island, it had all the right parts, just in all the wrong places. The same plants, trees, grass, oceans- It all makes you miss home. Berk. The trickling streams and rivers you knew better than yourself.

Lazily, you spotted your own reflection. Couldn’t say you were anything to gawk at.

The large coat you wore made you look imposing. Wise. You didn’t feel like either of those things. But you did feel almost settled.

You lowered yourself between two rocks by the creekside, filled with a sense of nostalgia. It’s the first time you’ve been comfortable in a long while, or as comfortable as you could be as roots burrowed through soft mucousy flesh.

It was a good napping spot. A good place to think. 

If you cut it down to its most simple parts, you would have to say that Hiccup was the sun.

You stared up into the empty blue sky, laced sporadically with clouds of thin white cotton. It was bright out, almost painfully so. 

He used to be your star, but he’d left for brighter, more suited pastures. You were the night sky, a dark blanket with no light. An empty background. Stifling, perhaps.

So maybe it was out of some subconscious effort that you’d decided you’d had to take matters into your own hands. Every petal was a new blinking star in the night sky, every leaf a constellation. You were your own stars, now. That was a better alternative to the truth. 

You blinked, half lidded eyes feeling heavier than the weight in your limbs and the burden of your own heart.

You assumed your flaw was making him the only star in your sky. Perhaps if there had been more people to share the love, you wouldn’t have cared for those seeds so thoroughly.

He couldn’t get what you’d said out of his mind. 

He’d stumbled upon it earlier, wondering where you’d been going off to these past few days. Pushing through old brambles, searching for you when no one else would. You weren’t well known enough in the village for people to rush to find you after you’d gone missing.

However, you were close to Hiccup.

His breath caught. The pansies were in a varied state of birth, bloom and wilt. So, already, there were pods ripe with seeds dotting the grasses around your final resting place.

There were no fancy arrangements of vines and roots to signify some grand and important passing. It was a simple, narrow clearing with sparse dottings of flowers, not extravagant but no less precious. 

Hiccup might not have realized it was you at first if he hadn’t seen your body, graying and cold, wedged between the rocks. 

Neither you nor Hiccup ever expected to die in a blaze of glory, so perhaps it was fitting.

A heavy weight fell in Hiccup’s chest. 

You’d been off recently. Out of it. He wondered how long you’d been suffering and he hadn’t noticed. You had to spend your last days alone.

Sometime between adolescence and adulthood, you’d grown. You’d been able to cast off the confusion and awkwardness that had bonded the two of you together and where there was unsurety and gawkiness before, there was wisdom and a deep sort of knowing. 

Unfortunately, it felt as though now that you were gone, all of the answers seemed to have gone with you.

Hiccup bent down, and, gently, pulled a few pods from their stems. He hadn’t the faintest clue why, but grief did many odd things to a person. He fully intended to leave your body for now, as it felt like holy ground, to disturb your dirt would be sacrilegious. 

Objectively, however, it would need to be burned lest the island become overrun. Hiccup just hadn’t the heart to do it himself.

Perhaps he’d sew the seeds in a pit by his house, or keep a pot by his workbench, though he’d never been the type to grow anything so delicate. He’d never been the type to care for plants at all, in fact. 

Hiccup rubbed his creased brows, sitting at a full table, papers and effects spilling off of the sides like waterfalls. Even after all these years, the feeling that he just wasn’t cut out for this life still hadn’t left him. He didn’t enjoy this.

He didn’t like directing vikings, managing houses or organizing exploration efforts at all. Trying to keep everyone in line was stressful and being in charge of the upkeep of all the storehouses and events was unbearable.

Sometimes, even keeping up with his friends was difficult. His family. He couldn’t just fly off when he needed to take a break, anymore. Hiccup dealt with it.

But Snotlout, the Twins, they definitely got on his nerves now a lot more than before. Fishlegs was helpful. The most help, though, came from Astrid

Not in the typical sense. She was a doer, not a manager. She was a pusher and a fighter, and sometimes that was just what he needed to force himself to keep going. 

Astrid, truly, was strong. Their relationship was the same. Good, sturdy. She valued capability, and boy did he try to be capable. He proved his worth time and time again. She loved him for it. It was all he wanted. At least, that’s what he thought.

Still, he wondered if she’d ever thought of being with someone else. If she’d wondered if she was better off alone the same way he did.

But no, Astrid was good. Perfect, even. He still couldn’t help but wonder if she was good for him. It was a lot of work, to constantly meet her toe-to-toe, especially in times when he just needed rest.

He hated the thought, because she’d never done anything to deserve that kind of thinking. Because that’s what she needed and deserved. Because there were hundreds of vikings who would kill to be in his place. Because if he couldn’t keep up, then why was he here? Why had he wasted so much of her time?

No. She’d chosen him. 

She’d chosen him.

Hiccup clung to that phrase like a mantra, eyeing the pot on the windowsill.

He frowned at the wilting leaves, pushing up from the desk to walk to the sill. He kept a watering can there, always filled. It was the least he could do.

There was a noticeable mark under where it usually sat, which Hiccup grimaced at. No matter how many times he tried to brush it off, it was still there. He reminded himself to try sanding it off later, if he had time, though it would probably fall to the wayside, same as many of his other crafts.

He realized with displeasure that he had been neglecting it.

Caring for the flower had in effect become part of his routine. Astrid sometimes looked at him oddly for it, though she never said anything, probably wondering why he’d picked up the sudden hobby. 

It was difficult at first, just another thing he had to keep up with. But over time he found that it was relaxing, unwinding in a way he’d never have thought. So even when he was at his busiest, he’d found time for it. He’d been careful to prune dead and unwieldy branches. To pick out weeds, bring it in during the winter and replace the soil every spring.

Hiccup scratched his beard, watching as water sunk into the pot soil. He smiled faintly as he heard hurried footsteps march up the porch to the Haddock home, too light to be Astrid, or Gobber, or any one of the other Riders.

The door swung wide open and his children burst through, trampling wood as they ran in. He caught a shot of the outdoors in his periphery as the door swung shut. It was a bright day outside, paths littered with small purple and white flowers.

The fields, he knew, would be blooming too. Even after the burning, they were still there. The flowers eventually crept into the village. As it turned out, they didn’t get in the way of the crops or paths or anything of the sorts. They didn’t drown out the fields either. Hardly suffocating as he’d expected.

After the initial irritation, everyone figured they weren't malicious, so eventually everyone had gotten used to them and just let them be. Eventually they just became another part of the island, though there was some prevailing confusion over where they had come from.

A little body stopped right next to him, standing on toes to also examine the soil. Then there was a groan, probably at the realization that there wasn’t much of anything interesting to look at, at least not for her, which was alright enough, he supposed.

“Dad, Why do you water the pansies?” Came the annoyed voice of his daughter, as Hiccup placed the watering can back in its rightful spot, “There are so many outside already.”

Hiccup furrowed his brows again, trying to find the right words. He was at a loss at how to answer. He wasn’t exactly sure himself.

“...A good friend of mine gave them to me.” He tried the phrase on his tongue. Still, even after he said it, it didn’t feel quite right.

It was true, in a way. Ignoring Hiccup’s own part in taking the seeds, you’d given everyone and the whole island some sorely needed color. 

Maybe his daughter could tell he was sort of unsure himself.

After some thinking, he decided that they reminded him of the way you used to look at him, like he was the only thing you cared about. He used to shy away from it, but now, especially in times like these, he missed it.

He stared at the soft petals as she wandered off, dragging her brother along with her.

Hiccup could say that, in part, the flowers were reminiscent of better times. He wasn’t sure which better times he was referring to, though. He could mean the times he spent out with the riders, or with Toothless soaring over the archipelago. 

But he also recalled the faint image of all the quiet times you two had spent sitting across the fire after the fact, in the early hours when everyone else had gone to bed. When even the crickets were silent and the licking heat and crackling fire were the only things that existed in that moment. 

 He’d spent the time talking to you, the two of you  whispering in loud and hushed voices. He could almost smell the burning logs, feeling his arms twitch, recalling the muscle memory involved with feeding sticks and stumps into the pit.

He felt sort of odd caring for the flowers sometimes, when his reminiscing would bring him and his watering can outside into the bushes on the outskirts of New Berk, caring for and replanting some of the blooms there.

He was an interloper of a sort, caring for flowers born from a love that was not meant for him. When he did, he imagined what sort of life he’d have led if you’d survived somehow. It was impossible, even so, he wished for it.

He could picture the last time he saw you alive, looking over those clifftops. He wished he’d said more, said something valuable to leave you with. He wasn’t completely sure what, but he wished he would have said something. 

Hiccup leaned against the windowsill on closed fists, looking, finally, outwards, into the trees and past them to the few straggling vikings he could observe over the cliffs. 

He puzzled gently, picturing your face. Sometimes, when he thought of you, it almost felt a little bit like- 

Hiccup paused as a cough wracked through his chest, causing him to tense and hit his chest, burying his nose into his elbow and shutting his eyes tightly. It’d been happening more and more often, and had gotten to the point where it had begun to give him the shakes. 

As the spasms calmed, he thought of going to a healer, as he occasionally did.

Then Hiccup wiped his mouth, rubbing his hand off on his pant leg and brushing it off, as he always did. 

It was just a cold, after all. It’d pass.

#hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #httyd imagine #fishlegs #flowers #ask box open

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Two

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Two: Vaccines

One day, several years ago I spent literally six hours researching the history of vaccines so I could figure out what vaccines Steve would likely have.

The list he would likely have growing up is easy:

Smallpox, Typhoid fever, and diphtheria. These are the ones I think most likely, but there's also Cholera and Tetanus that existed as well as yellow fever and whooping cough.

The yellow fever vaccine was approved in 1938 and a vaccine for pertussis (whooping cough) was approved in 1939. So Steve's vaccination for these would depend on whether he learned of the new vaccine and was able to get one.

Soldiers were vaccinated and vaccines Steve could have gotten in the army were: Cholera, Typhus, Yellow Fever, Typhoid, Tetanus, Smallpox and Influenza. (This article has WW2 vaccine cards!)

World War Two was a watershed moment for vaccine innovation. It helped develop or improve 10 new vaccines, including the Influenza vaccine. Soldiers got access to this vaccine before the public, who got access to it after the war.

The list of vaccines that hadn't been discovered yet or he likely wouldn't have is much longer:

Polio, Chicken Pox, Measles, Asian Flu (A2), Rubella, Mumps, Hepatitis A and B, Swine flu, the Pneumococcal vaccine,  Hib disease (which includes meningitis, pneumonia, joint infections, bone infections, skin infections, and epiglottitis), the Meningococcal vaccine, HPV Vaccine, Rotavirus, Rabies, and Tuberculosis.

Influenza viruses would not be isolated and identified until the 1930s, and the first commercial influenza vaccines were not licensed in the United States until the 1940s. It was a very new vaccine the army researched to try to prevent another outbreak of the flu like in 1918.

Steve would not be aware that the flu virus mutates and needs new vaccines every year. (That was discovered around 1947.)

As an extension of this, Steve would not be aware of the eradication of (and consequent cease of vaccination for) smallpox. Other discontinued vaccines include Cholera unless specifically recommended.

The polio vaccine would be particularly amazing to Steve. Also tuberculosis since Sarah died of it.

Sunday Steve Masterpost

#steve rogers #vaccines #vaccination #vaccine #steve rogers meta #meta #sunday steve #marvel #mcu #20th century #american history #history

[offsidekineticist]

For Theoven: ☮ for a scene about behaving well

Thank you for the ask! Struggled a little with this one because I wanted to cover some time before he left Garund, but it was tricky figuring out what "behaving well" in that context would mean. Finally settled on repurposing/revising a little thing I wrote about his backstory (why did I originally write it in the 3rd person when all my Theoven stuff is 2nd person?).

CW: references to degenerative mental disease/dementia; a child taking on way too much responsibility; death of a parent; references to poverty; and Theoven tossing a lit firecracker into his mom's room to tell her breakfast is ready.

You know today is going to be one of the good days, because Mama is reading. Most days she can't do that anymore. Most days, when you wake her for breakfast, she is still asleep, or on really bad days she's sitting up and just staring at the wall. But today when you go to wake her for breakfast, Mama is already awake, sitting up in bed with one of her books.

"Holy fuck!" She shouts when the firecracker goes off next to her bed, and you grin because 'fuck' is a naughty word, and also she only swears on good days. On bad days your pranks just made her scream and cry. That doesn't stop you of course–as long as she doesn't react with silence, that means the pranks are helping, and if you do enough of them she might have a good day. 

That's your job: to give Mama lots of good days, enough to last forever. You aren't usually very good at your job–Mama doesn't have many good days anymore–but today is a good day. Giggling, you open the door and carry a tray with breakfast into the bedroom.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Mama asks from her bed, and you nod, trying to hide your smile behind a glass of not quite spoiled milk on the tray. "Oh, Theo," she sighs with a smile. "Never a dull moment with you, is there?"

You smile wide before offering her the tray. "Oh, thank you!" she says with a look of pleased surprise, and for a moment you feel a little glow of pride because this is a good day and you are doing a good job. Then she frowns suddenly at the breakfast: an over-easy egg (You scrounged the egg from a bird nest in a tree you had to climb) and a piece of toast. "You cooked this?" she asks. You nod, wondering frantically what was wrong - maybe that kind of egg was poisonous? Or maybe it's a very smart species of bird and you just murdered a baby? Or–

"You didn't break the yolk," she says slowly, and you relax, because this is not the first time she has had to think this through. "Have you been making me breakfast every morning?" she finally asks, and you nod. She looks sad and a little scared for a moment before smiling with her mouth while her eyes stay sad and watery. "Well, you've gotten very good at it! I've probably said that to you before, haven't I? I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I like it when you say I'm good at things," you say, and that makes her smile for real. She ruffles your bright orange hair with a pale hand–most of her is pale, except a little strand of green in her hair. You're the opposite: mostly orange and tan-brown, except for the pale patch on your elbow from when you gave Mama some of your color when you were a baby. Back when Mama had more good days than bad days, she used to check every day to make sure the patch hadn't gotten bigger, because if it got too big you would start having bad days, too, and then you wouldn't be able to do your job and give Mama good days.

"Well then, you should know you've gotten very good at making breakfast," Mama says before starting to eat breakfast. "Here–wanna see what Mama's reading?" She patted the space on the mattress next to her, and you grin because it's been so long since Mama read to you and it must be a very good day and you are doing a very good job. You scramble up onto the bed and snuggle under her left arm. She closes the book and shows you the front cover. "Can you read the title?"

"One thousand and one gods of the Vuh-drann - drawn - dra–"

"Vudrani."

" - Vudrani," you read out.

"Very good!" she says, and you practically preen with pride before realizing what you just read.

"There are a thousand and one gods?" you ask, eyes wide, because that's a lot of gods.

"Oh, there are a lot more than that. These are just some of the gods they worship in Vudra."

Your forehead wrinkles in thought. "But I thought gods were special. How can there be so many?"

"Well, there are still a lot more of us than there are of them."

"There's not a thousand people!" you exclaim indignantly. One thousand is a very big number. You know because you once tried seeing how high you could count, and you only made it to 150 or so before you lost count because you were distracted by a beetle as big as your hand flying in through an open window. You tried to get the beetle to stay and be your friend, but it couldn't understand you because beetles aren't very smart, so it flew away.

"You wanna hear something crazy?" Your mother asks, leaning in like she's about to tell you a secret, and you lean in too because you are very good at keeping secrets. "We live in a town with two thousand people. Just in our town."��

Your jaw drops, and you try to remember all the people you saw yesterday when you went to the market to borrow some stale bread when the baker wasn't looking, but you quickly realize there were too many to count. 

"And this isn't the biggest town we've lived in, is it?" Mama continues, and you shake your head.

"No. Katapesh was much bigger." Your face scrunches up as you try to figure out how much bigger itbwas. "They had…three thousand people?"

"More than two hundred thousand." 

Two hundred thousand? That's more than you can count times a thousand! That's a lot of people, and just in one city? You realize there must be a lot of people in Golarion. Eyes wide, you look back at the cover of the book that had started the conversation.

"I guess one thousand gods is still special," you finally pronounce. "Are they better than the Avistan gods?"

Mama taught you a lot about the gods in Avistan because that's where your dad lives, and someday she says you will visit and stay with him. You didn't like most of them–being a kid is hard, and you don't think anybody who has never been a kid had any business telling you how to be a kid (and people who don't remember what it's like being a kid aren't much better). But Irori and Iomedae and Norgorber and Caiden Calean had all been kids once, so you think they might be alright.

"Hmmm…no, I think they're just different. But there are some gods they worship in Avistan and Vudra. Like Irori. Before he was a god, he lived in Vudra." She opens the book. "His nephew became a god, too. Gruhastha. He was always one of my favorites because he's a book and a god."

"He's a book?" You repeat, because how can a person be a book?

"Yes, the Azvadeva Pujila. He wrote it when he was still mortal. The book was perfect, and perfect things must be divine, but a book by itself has no soul, so it can't be a god. So Gruhastha went into the book and became part of it, and it became part of him, and now the book had a soul and could ascend and be divine. But Gruhastha believes that knowledge should be shared, so he made copies of the Azvadeva Pujila and put a little of himself in each one. So anytime you hold a copy of the Azvadeva Pujila in your hands, you hold Gruhastha in your hands as well."

"Do we have a copy of it?" you ask eagerly, because you've been able to do many things traveling with Mama, but you have never held a god before.

"I think so–yes, in the Biggenlill Bag."

(The Biggenlill Bag is little on the outside but big on the inside. It is supposed to be called a bag of holding, but that's stupid because all bags hold things because that's what bags are for. You used to call it the Big-and-Little bag, but over time it got shortened to the Biggenlill Bag, which is so much more fun to say than Big-and-Little and definitely a better name than "bag of holding.")

You slide off the bed and scamper into the next room. The biggenlill bag is on one of the chairs at the kitchen table that hasn't been used since Mama's bad days made you stop in Finderplain. You grab the bag as you slide to a stop and then rapidly run back the other way, practically leaping onto the bed and almost knocking over Mama's glass of milk as you open the bag and reach inside. You have to stick your hand in all the way up to your shoulder, but your fingers eventually close around a book, and you yank it out of the bag. 

It doesn't look like you'd expect a god to look–you imagined it would be more sparkly–but Mama always says not to judge a book by its cover. It does feel special, though. You feel a thrill the second you touch it, and you feel…not quite afraid to open the book, but you can tell that opening the book will release something great and wonderful, something that will refuse to confine itself to the book once it is released.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" Mama asks, interrupting your reverie, and you nod and hand the book to her. She sets it on top of the book on her lap, opens it to the first page, and reads.

It is a wonderful day. The best day. Mama reads, and she reads, and she reads, until the desert sun sets, and her voice is hoarse, and you snuggle into her side and for once you aren't worried about doing your job, because this is a good day, and good days mean you're doing a good job. You listen to stories about monkeys and tigers and cobras and gods and children and ratfolk and humans, and you wonder if maybe, when Mama is better, you could go to Vudra and see the Cave of a Thousand Stars.

"I think that's enough for today," Mama finally says tiredly, and you nod before hugging her.

"Thank you, Mama," you say, and Mama hugs you close to her.

"Oh, you're so very welcome. I'm happy to do it for such a wonderful son."

You feel very warm at that, and despite the desert heat it's a good warm. Yes, you are doing a good job. "Love you, Mama."

"I love you too, Theo. Now." She kisses the top of your head. "Go get some rest. We can read more in the morning."

You nod vigorously, smiling wide so she won't see that you don't believe her. You may be doing a good job, but there haven't been two good days in a row for a very long time. Reminding her of that would just make her sad, though, so you pretend to believe her and kiss her on the cheek before taking the tray and the dirty dishes and sliding off the bed. You leave the books–you are very tired, and someone needs to stand watch, but Mama is holding a book that is also a god, so surely you can sleep for a little bit and let Gruhastha watch over her, can't you?

(You can't. Her last green hair disappears in the night. Her skin is already cold when the sun rises.)

#oc: theoven derenge #pathfinder wotr #knight-commander oc #ask game #pwotr pals

[poppadom0912]

Passing Pt2

Characters: Kelly Severide, Sylvie Brett, Matt Casey, April Sexton, Natalie Manning.

Warnings: Cancer (Breast Cancer) and medical treatment.

Summary: In which all the signs pass by you.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

*****

It had been a year since you were told you were cancer free and it was nothing but liberating, knowing there was no disease inside your body that was killing you with each breath you took.

Everything went back to normal. From the day you got that email at Med, you and Sylvie rushed back to the firehouse and shared the news with everyone which resulted in excited shouts and the warmest hugs.

And so, life went on, doing 24 hours shifts on the ambo, evenings spent at Molly's but that didn't mean there weren't bumps.

You had gotten sick. Like, it wasn't your usual flu.

Over the past few weeks, you'd been noticing a slight change in the way you carried yourself, feeling more tired than usual but you put the blame on the extra shifts you were picking up.

But your appetite was also changing, the foods you loved no longer tasting the same as they came off bland; your taste buds totally altering.

Not to forget the sudden increase in your hair loss. All your life your hair fell but this was on another level, taking your scrunchie out to find it wrapped like a present in your hair.

It wasn't until this morning that you were concerned about your physical state, having vomitted after eating the breakfast you prepared for everyone.

Despite the period that you were on, the first thought was that you were pregnant but then you remembered you hadn't gotten anything in months.

That was one thing ticked off your very long list of things that could possibly be wrong with you.

Washing your hands under the sink, you felt your body screaming for rest, limbs weighing you down.

You hadn't even worked out last night, but it felt like you did, muscles contracting with the most miniscule movement.

Staring yourself down in the mirror, your appetite now non-existent, you let yourself wonder.

This wasn't the typical flu, and you knew you had no infection of any sorts, so what was it?

Walking out the bathrooms and into the corridor, still stuck in your thoughts, the world started shaking, moving around like a tumble dryer.

The sudden movement made you feel nauseas, your mind screaming at the dizzy spell.

"Hey, you good?"

Looking up very hesitantly, you squinted at the blurry figure standing in the uniform everyone wore making it hard for you to distinguish who it was, but you knew that voice very well.

"I-" You swallowed, hands out to steady yourself. "I'm good Kelly."

You still couldn't see him very well, but his tone clearly showed his concern. "Are you sure? You look kinda pale."

Inhaling through your nose, you looked at the blurry man through your eyelashes. Your complexion looked perfectly fine a minute ago.

Breathing out, you found it wasn't as easy as breathing in, your breath getting stuck in your throat before forcing it out, your lungs tiring from the exercise.

Great, now you were breathless.

You shook your head, letting your friend know that you weren't okay, allowing him to put his arm around your shoulder and slowly walk you to the common room where everyone was still eating your breakfast.

Kelly sat you down with much caution, your hands clinging to the arm rests with whatever strength you had in your tingling fingers, it felt just like pins and needles but even after waiting, it wouldn't go.

"What's wrong?"

Sylvie squatted down in front of you, looking at your furrowed brows and your chest rise and fall unevenly with each unsteady breath you took.

Kelly started to tell Sylvie the very little he knew, arms crossed as he stood back and watched with everyone else as you struggled and were in pain.

Their voices were nothing but distant murmers as realisation suddenly dawned on you, weighing down on your chest.

"No." You said breathlessly, catching Sylvie's attention before anyone else's. "No."

Licking your lips, you started to shake your head. Everything was fine, you were healthy up until a few days ago.

Warmth suddenly enveloped you, hands lightly held yours causing you to look up and meet her worried eyes.

"Sylvie." You stopped, catching your breath. "The cancer."

Due to the pin drop silence of the common room, your words echoed, letting everyone know. It had been a year since it was announced you were cancer free, why were you talking about it now-

"These symptoms could be anything Y/N, don't say that." Sylvie shook her head, her words assuring herself more than you.

"You could easily have a deficiency in something or are you pregnant? You could be pregnant or maybe even an eating disorder that we've haven't noticed." Sylvie rambled, her worry powering over as she listed whatever came to mind but deep down, she knew she was in denial.

"Y/N?" Matt took note of your fluttering eyes and loosening grip on the arms of the chair, stepping forward slowly.

Sylvie's rambling came to a halt, looking up at your face just in time as you fell forward, Matt pushing himself forward to catch you when Sylvie couldn't hold you.

With your limp body in their arms, the common room went into a frenzy. Questions flew about your state, some coming around to help as one of them went to inform chief.

Laying you down flat on your back, Sylvie found your pulse point, sighing in relief when it was strong.

"Med?" Matt asked as he picked you up in his arms, ready to get up and into the ambo.

"Med." Sylvie nodded as she asked Stella if she could drive the ambo since you weren't going to do it.

"We'll meet you there." Kelly said, slamming the ambo doors shut, patting it before they drove off.

*****

The smell of antiseptic and the constant beeping was what you woke up to, eyes peeling open to the bright lights of none other than the ED.

This wasn't what you planned for today but fate, ever the nicest, had other plans.

Sitting up, you blinked, getting rid of any sleep, ignoring the itch of the hospital gown and realising you were attached to many IV's and a nasal cannula.

"Oh- Y/N, your awake." April opened the sliding doors, rubbing in sanitiser as she smiled at you. "Give me five seconds to get Dr Manning."

Not waiting for a reply, April disappeared, her raised voice calling for Natalie loud enough for you to hear her in the bustling emergency department.

And with another blink, April and Natalie were standing in the door causing you to look at them in shock, as if they had performed the most mind-blowing magic trick.

"It's good to see you awake." Natalie smiled, tablet in hand but her attention was solely on you.

You nodded, not too sure what you were meant to reply with when your memories came rushing back, the sight of the entire firehouse watching you as you struggled to breath before everything went black.

You weren't going to asked what happened, all you wanted was for a diagnosis from your friend.

April looked at Natalie nervously, eyes dragging to yours with sympathy that friends don't hold towards another. It didn't help that the smile Natalie was showing you was nothing but empathetic.

"It's cancer, isn't it?" You swallowed, fiddling with the thin material of the blanket covering your legs, looking up at the two ladies with glossy eyes that shimmered under the bright lights.

Natalie nodded and replied. "When you got the mammogram last year, it didn't show anything but they're never clear which is why we typically do blood tests to find any cancer."

Blinking away the tears, not wanting to break down just yet, you nodded as you scolded yourself for not remembering that. You were a paramedic for goodness sakes, blood tests were always more accurate.

"Breast cancer?" You forced out; eyes closed in preparation of the news.

"I'm so sorry Y/N." Natalie apologised. Having to find out her friend had breast cancer, being the first to know, it wasn't the easiest to comprehend.

"But my..." You gestured to your chest. There were no rashes, no lumps or anything that would hint at the breast cancer.

Natalie clenched her jaw, licking her lips as she exchanged a quick look with April.

"It's not always on the outside." April elaborated but her six words were more than enough for you to understand.

The treatment room was enveloped in silence, the noise of the ED nothing but background music as you let everything set in.

"Um, everyone's waiting for you outside. You want me to send them in one by one or?" Natalie cleared her throat, looking at April who had the pleasure of letting the firehouse know you were awake.

"Send them all in." You shrugged, the overwhelming amount of them and their loud volume no longer bothered you. "Might as well."

April left, informing everyone of your alertness as Natalie sent you one last smile. "I'll check back in a bit."

You weren't even alone for long, but the silence was deafening, loud beating pounding in your ears as you blankly stared forward.

Flinching, you were met with the relieved faces of the firehouse, some of them standing in the doorway as the rest fit inside the room. Their voices low and soft as they waved and said hello.

With a half-attempted smile, you waved back, further sitting up in preparation of breaking your news.

You choked out a laugh, dragging your hand down your face. "Gosh, I um, I'm just going to say it straight up, get it over and done with."

Gesturing to your torso, not bothered by your bluntness, you bitterly smiled as instead of words, all that came out was a sob.

And just like that, you were crumbling, sobs overcoming you as you forced the one word off your tongue.

"Cancer."

Your cries filled the silence, refusing to look anyone in the eye as the news sank in. The news that would affect not only yours, but all of their lives.

#chicago fire x reader #one chicago fic #one chicago x reader #chicago fire #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago imagine

[thatmexisaurusrex]

If you’re still taking prompts!!

Prompt 18, maybe with a little angst at the beginning? Maybe it’s post-mission and one of them had just watched the other get hurt? I’m a sucker for some post-mission fluff 🥰

I can definitely do that, @samwilsonsthunderthighs! 🥰 I hope you enjoy the fic! 🥰

Prompt 16: Listening to the other's heartbeat

| 15 | Prompts | 17 |

Bucky stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. They were in the middle of a battle. Wong and Joaquín and Monica were all screaming in his earpiece at Bucky, but he couldn't hear any of it. Focus on anything coming his way.

Because Sam had stopped answering. He stopped answering as he fell. Fell down from the sky over the floating rigged helicarrier this splinter of HYDRA group stole. Fell the height of the Empire State Building down to the ocean below.

And all Bucky could do was run. Run straight through the fight ensuing before him, stripping down to his boxers, breaking any arm or leg or weapon that stood in his way as he kept moving to the edge of the helicarrier closest to where Sam fell.

And then jumped.

Bucky remembered public swimming pools. As much as his family gambled on going, praying that there wouldn't be a polio outbreak. It was "polio season" when summer hit, after all, and summers in New York leaned towards pool shutdowns as the disease made its waves.

But Bucky did remember the times they went. He remembered the high dive that felt like it was looking over the edge of the world. And this felt like that.

Tipping over the edge of the world. Plunging into the depths of hell to save the one he loved.

Because that was it, wasn't it?

Love.

He hadn't dared to think of it. Not when he was just getting along with Sam again. Not after his self-destructive spiral hurt Sam so badly, not when he was so in his own problems that he hadn't taken Sam's feelings and problems and thoughts into consideration.

Sam hadn't owed him anything. Bucky wouldn't have been surprised if Sam had turned him away when he made the impulsive decision to grab everything he owned and move to Delacroix. But Sam just smiled and said, "What took you so long?"

And Bucky wasn't perfect. He was still trying to be better. Do better. Be better to Sam. He wanted to be the kind of person Sam would want around. Who could be there for Sam. He hoped he was getting there.

All Bucky could think now was that Sam was somewhere under the water, sinking, and he had no clue if he would ever be able to find the body, let alone pull him up to the surface.

But he had to. There was no other option. He was going to find Sam. He was not letting Sam get lost at sea and wash up on the Gulf Coast next to the dead jellyfish and creepy baby dolls and get found by some surfers like it was the beginning of an episode of CSI.

Plunging into the ocean felt like being a knife cutting through ice. Despite doing everything in his power to make it easy, Bucky still felt the pain of it.

He wondered about Sam. How this must have felt to him. If he felt it. If he woke up from the pain, then passed out from it. Tethered to so much equipment that wasn't easy to take off, Sam would sink quick. Sam was a good swimmer, better than Bucky, but not with a jetpack with wings attached to his back.

Bucky didn't know what he would have done if he didn't have the serum in him. He would have shattered bones when he hit the surface of the water. He wouldn't have been able to see. He wouldn't have been able to withstand the pain.

But there Sam was.

Bucky was going to love Redwing for the rest of his life. He was going to help Sam tinker on him and upgrade him and even talk to Redwing in that baby voice Sam used. Because the clearest thing Bucky could see was Redwing's blinking red emergency light. And it looked like Redwing was trying to pull Sam up to the surface, but he must have gotten damaged from the fall, so he wasn't working at full capacity.

That was okay. Bucky could carry the load from here.

Bucky didn't even remember much after that. It became a blur of barely having enough air to swim down to Sam. It became a panic when he lost where up was. It became a horrible fight with nature itself as the sea got choppy, a storm appeared out of thin air, a riptide threatened to pull them both under.

Bucky didn't know how he got through any of it. He wasn't sure how he got to the beach. He was pretty sure there was a lot of screaming. That one of his own legs was mangled from his fall despite everything Bucky did. That Sam was covered head to toe in Captain America attire which prevented Bucky from seeing whatever damage the fall caused.

He didn't know how long it took for him to get from where they were in the ocean to the beach, but judging by how people were staring at Bucky, he had come in like a speed boat.

When did brain damage start? Five minutes without air? Bucky couldn't remember. Had he remembered coughing from Sam? He might have been coughing when they got to the surface, but Bucky didn't know, everything happened so fast.

He fell to Sam's chest, searching for a heartbeat, and...

Bucky collapsed there. Tired beyond words. Feeling the creeping pain of his leg bubbling to the surface now that the adrenaline was wearing down.

Because he did it.

He saved Sam from drowning.

He could hear Sam's heartbeat, strong and there.

Sam was going to be okay.

*****

"Seriously, you don't have to do this," said Sam as Bucky placed the lunch tray down above Sam's legs.

"Nonsense," Bucky said as he placed Sam's drink to the side, "You're recovering. I'm your neighbor. I can take care of you while you're like this."

Bucky had been right about not knowing just how bad Sam was with the suit covering him. His cap suit took most of the impact, thankfully, but the mission had still left Sam with a dislocated arm, a hairline fracture in his right leg, and a mild concussion.

Bucky had been coming in the past month. Checking in on Sam. Making sure he ate. Did his exercises for PT. And just... hanging out with him. After the first few days, he had found himself living out of Sam's guest bedroom. Because Bucky could do this for Sam. He wanted to be there for Sam.

"Again, Bucky. You broke your femur. You're not exactly in your best shape either right now," said Sam as he ate the sandwich Bucky made for him, "It's okay if you don't do everything."

Bucky leaned his crutches on the nightstand before he sat down on the bed with Sam.

"I heal faster. I'm almost out of the cast," said Bucky as he grabbed his own half of the sandwich, "And I like taking care of you."

Bucky... probably shouldn't have said that. He felt blush creeping down his face, down his neck, down to his chest. He tried not to think about it. Maybe if he didn't acknowledge it, Sam wouldn't notice the blush.

"You like taking care of me?" asked Sam, and he sounded... a little shy.

A little baffled. He looked... a little vulnerable. And this was different. This was some nebulous space between the friendship they had been rebuilding and whatever more could be in store for them. And it felt...

Right.

It felt right.

"If that's okay," said Bucky as his hand slowly inched toward Sam's, "If you like that. Me taking care of you."

"I... do. I like that," said Sam softly as he turned his Destiny's Dream iris eyes to Bucky, warm and tentative and taking that plunge as his hand took Bucky's, "I like you taking care of me."

They smiled at each other, happy in blissful, comfortable silence as they both ate their halves of the sandwich Bucky made.

*****

This series is to celebrate Pride Month with some fun prompts. Since I got more prompts than I anticipated, I’m going to extend this event to finish all the prompts.

#thank you so much for the prompt 🥰 #sambucky #the daily sambucky fluff diary #sam wilson #bucky barnes #bucky takes care of sam #sambucky pride month event #sambucky touch prompt event #hurt comfort #fluff at the end #getting together #mission fic #sambucky drabbles #drabble 16 #listing to the other's heartbeat

[melanielocke]

The Stars Collide - Chapter 4

I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I haven't made as much progress this week but fortunately I am a little ahead in my writing. This one is solely Thomas' POV, next one will be Alastair's. The illness Thomas has, FMF, exists in real life. While the name wouldn't make sense in the context of this being set on a fictional planet, I decided to keep it anyway as making up a different name for an existing illness would be even more confusing. In our world, FMF mainly occurs in Mediterranean people (which is where the name comed from) and is a genetic illness that causes episodes of fever along with joint pain. Episodes typically last up to 4 days, frequency varies wildly. There's medication for it that someone would take continuously, which lessens the frequency of episodes (but does not take them away completely) and also decreases the risk of kidney and heart disease in later life.

Chapter list

Thomas tried to find a comfortable position on the couch. He had not foreseen being put in a situation where he’d have to sleep on the couch and therefore had never bothered to buy a couch he’d fit on. As it was, he couldn’t stretch his legs.

He wished he could have just talked to Alastair. He didn’t blame Alastair for kissing him so soon. Thomas would have preferred if he’d asked but he guessed Alastair had had different expectations of what a wedding night entailed. And he wouldn’t have minded, Alastair was attractive and with time Thomas thought he could grow to love him. Except it had been quite obvious that Alastair hadn’t really wanted it, that he was pushing himself because he’d thought he was supposed to, and that was not something Thomas had been prepared for. If there was anything Thomas didn’t want to do, it was sleeping with someone who didn’t want him.

He'd speak to Alastair in the morning, he decided. They would both need to set some boundaries if they were going to make this work. In the end, Thomas decided to sleep on the carpet instead. The couch might be softer, but at least here he could stretch his legs.

When he woke up in the morning, he entered the bedroom to get dressed to find Alastair wasn’t there anymore. The bed was made as if he hadn’t been anyone there at all, nor was there any trace of Alastair’s things. Thomas’ heart rate sped up. Where was Alastair? Had he gone to file for divorce already?

He changed into a simple green tunic and trousers before going to the kitchen to find something to eat. Would Alastair like something too? He wasn’t in the kitchen either and Thomas didn’t have a clue where he would have gone so early in the morning.

Thomas baked some oat milk pancakes. With the limited amount of available space on the planet, cattle farming didn’t exist and Thomas himself never used imported products.

Before eating, he decided to look around if he could find Alastair anywhere. It turned out he was on the balcony, Thomas started coughing immediately as he stepped outside. Alastair was in the middle of smoking a cigarette.

‘I, uh, didn’t realize you smoked,’ Thomas said.

‘Sorry, is that a problem?’ Alastair asked, blowing out smoke. ‘I tried to quit after Charles died. I brought it down to four cigarettes a day, but I’ve gotten stuck there.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t smoke inside, or at the balcony. The smell will still get inside,’ Thomas said. ‘I have a chronic illness. Being exposed to cigarette smoking might make me sicker.’

Alastair looked away. ‘Oh. I didn’t know that. I’m trying to quit, I promise. But it’s not easy.’

‘I understand. If you can’t resist, you could go farther outside than the balcony. And I would also prefer if you asked before kissing or touching me.’

Alastair flinched, and Thomas wondered why. ‘I’m sorry. I thought it was what you wanted, I can see now I was wrong. It won’t happen again.’

‘I made breakfast,’ Thomas said. ‘Do you want anything?’

‘I’m not hungry,’ Alastair said. ‘Thanks anyway. I was wondering if it would be okay if I called my mother today. I haven’t spoken to her in some time and I miss her.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Why are you asking me? You know how to make a call, right?’

‘Right,’ Alastair said. ‘Can I use the computer in your study?’

‘All yours,’ Thomas said. ‘I wasn’t planning on using it this morning. You don’t have a computer of your own?’

‘No,’ Alastair said.

‘Oh,’ Thomas said, wondering if Alastair was one of those people who believed using technology was bad. ‘Well, you can use the one in my study, but we can shop for a computer of your own too sometime. I’m not sure how you survived without one.’

Alastair shrugged. ‘Charles let me use his computer sometimes.’

Thomas decided against inquiring any further, he wasn’t sure if Alastair would be willing to answer. Instead, he wrote down his computer pin for Alastair so he could use it.

‘There are pancakes in the kitchen,’ Thomas said instead. ‘I’ll put some in the fridge for you, they’re really good cold too.’

Thomas ate his breakfast quickly. Alastair had left the balcony and entered the study, and Thomas quickly opened the door to let Alastair know he was going out and would be back around lunch time.

‘That’s alright.’

‘Is it working, calling your mother?’

‘I am waiting for a response, but it always takes some time for a call to a different planet to get through.’

‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

Thomas packed a bag and made his way to the palace dojo. He’d always been into martial arts. As a frequently sick child, martial arts had made him feel strong in between his fevers. Familial Mediterranean Fever it was called, something he had been diagnosed with in his teens. It was a rare genetic disorder, which was why it had taken so long until someone thought of it. Now that he was grown up and medicated, he had episodes maybe four to six times a year as opposed to monthly.

He wasn’t alone in the dojo, he recognized Cordelia Carstairs practicing her moves against a boxing ball. He hadn’t spoken to her for long the other night, but if he wanted to improve his relationship with Alastair he should put some effort into getting to know his sister.

‘Cordelia,’ Thomas said, hoping their familial ties were close enough for a first name basis.

‘Thomas, I didn’t realize you came here.’

‘I’ve been doing martial arts since I was a child.’

‘Me too,’ Cordelia said. ‘Where’s Alastair?’

‘At home, calling your mother,’ Thomas said. He paused. ‘Do you know why he doesn’t own his own computer or a phone or anything? Does he have something against technology?’

‘Not that I know,’ Cordelia said. ‘At home he used to have a computer, he needed it for studying. He was always far ahead in his studies, so he had just finished his bachelor’s degree when he married Charles even though he was only seventeen. I thought he’d continue studying while married, but that would be difficult without a computer. I heard so little from him, I have no idea what he’s been up to.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Thomas said.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for him to get involved in Alastair’s family issues, he didn’t know why Alastair had cut off contact and Thomas didn’t think it was any of his business. Still, it seemed like Alastair wanted his sister in his life again.

‘Me too. But I hope now that Charles is gone he’ll want us in his life again. You want to spar?’

‘Are you sure? I’m a lot taller than you and I don’t think we’ve learnt the same style.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’d like to see how my new brother in law fights.’

‘Alright,’ Thomas said.

Cordelia was faster than Thomas, but Thomas had always been strong in his defense, and despite the difference in height they matched each other rather well. Her style was similar enough to his that Thomas could see what she was doing. Cordelia launched attack after attack, but Thomas was able to block all of them and even get an attack of his own in every once in a while. Cordelia dodged them all, and Thomas suspected the match would be determined by stamina, whoever outlasted the other won.

Thomas tried to launch an attack of his own and at the same time Cordelia tried something he did not recognize. He tried to stop himself, but because she lowered herself Thomas ended up hitting her in the face.

‘Ow!’ she yelped.

Thomas stepped back. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s alright,’ Cordelia said. ‘Just an accident. But damn that hurts. You’re strong.’

‘Come, I’ll get you some ice to put on it,’ Thomas said.

He found some ice in the freezer of the dojo and Cordelia put it on her cheek, sitting down in a chair.

‘I’m still getting used to the gravity of this planet,’ Cordelia said. ‘It’s kind of nice, but also weird.’

‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been to a different planet,’ Thomas said.

‘Turan is a bigger planet, and therefore our gravity is stronger. People from the Fair Planet often struggle there.’

‘Eugenia told me you can see differences in bone density and muscle mass in people from different planets,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s rather interesting.’

‘Your sister, right?’

‘She’s a doctor,’ Thomas said. ‘Graduated a couple of months ago and started working in surgery. Do you have any siblings besides Alastair?’

‘A little brother, Rostam. He was born after Alastair married Charles and after my father died. He’s five now.’

‘What’s he like?’ Thomas asked.

‘Far too smart for his own good,’ Cordelia said. ‘He’s like Alastair in that regard, except Alastair was far more quiet and grumpy. Rostam is a little agent of chaos. Would it be okay if I came with you when you go home? I want to ask Alastair how his conversation with Maman went.’

‘Sure,’ Thomas said. ‘You’re welcome anytime. Do you intend to stay here for long?’

‘I’m kind of in between jobs at the moment,’ Cordelia said. ‘So I think I’m going to stay here for the time being and maybe see if there’s anything I can do around here.’

‘What did you do before?’

‘Military pilot,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m pretty good at flying, but the military didn’t work for me. Plenty of places they need pilots though.’

‘I don’t doubt you can find something,’ Thomas said.

‘No, me neither. But it is difficult to have Rostam and my mother back home in Turan and Alastair here. I don’t want to leave either.’

‘Good thing you’re a pilot,’ Thomas said. ‘That should make it easier to travel in between planets.’

‘It is, but I can’t make a three day journey every other week,’ Cordelia said. ‘I did hear this planet’s witches are looking for a pilot to help them gather ingredients for their charms. Do you know them? Tessa Gray and Lucie Herondale they are called.’

‘Lucie is one of my closest friends, I’m sure you’d like her,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s around your age, writes books, she has her first book coming out soon. But she’s also a witch.’

‘I’ve always been curious how that works. The gifts Maman claims come from the stars can’t be taught, but I heard people can learn to be a witch.’

‘It’s a very long process, hardly anyone bothers when there’s people like Tessa and Lucie for whom it comes naturally. I think you should take the job, it sounds like a good offer and if you ever need to return to your mother they’d understand.’  

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs

#Thomas Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #cordelia carstairs #the last hours #the stars collide #fanfiction

[authorbashields]

#IFTTT #Author B. A. Shields Official Website

[luna-rainbow]

I was wondering if you would have any insight on this. Steve's mother Sarah was a TB nurse and later died of it. How did Steve, with all his health issues, never get Tuberculosis? It looks like there was a vaccine in 1921 so I guess he could have gotten that, but wouldn't Sarah have gotten it? Or was she more likely to still catch it because she worked with TB patients? Would Steve have had to take precautions around her? Would Sarah have been concerned about working with TB patients given all her sons health issues?

Oooh thanks for the interesting ask! Also apparently "medical" is a banned tag now.

As with many medical things, there's a lot of variables, some of which we still don’t understand. For example, why do some people walk around just fine with Covid, others get really sick, and even others never get better?

The TL;DR answer to your questions:

It’s quite likely that Steve (and possibly Bucky too) did get infected, but they weren’t having active illness (i.e. it was a latent infection). The chance of reactivation at a later time is small but probably higher risk for Steve.

Latent infection is not easy to pick up back in those days and may not have been found on Steve's enlistment health screening

Being a TB nurse definitely increased Sarah's risk of getting it. Passing it onto Steve would definitely be on her mind but presumably being a TB nurse was not a popular career choice and it was the best respectable job she could get during a very difficult time for an immigrant widow.

TB patients are encouraged to reside in sanatoriums, but that means no income for the family. It would have been a very difficult situation for Sarah and Steve, especially if he was still school age.

The BCG vaccine was probably not available to the masses in Steve's childhood.

I'm not sure how much people already know about TB so I might just mention some basics first.

TB infection

The bacteria that causes TB is called "Mycobacterium tuberculosis", which is a rather unusual bacteria in that they can become "dormant" i.e. they can stay inactive for many years and then cause disease years later. The other quirk to this bacteria is that they are notoriously slow growing, e.g. it takes about 4-6 weeks for them to show up on cultures. It's suspected that only a small number of bacteria are needed to establish an infection -- one of the methods used to diagnose an infection is to look for the bacteria in phlegm, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack. You COULD miss it on the sample they give you but at other times they still cough up enough bacteria to pass on the infection.

From the moment of exposure, there are 4 possible outcomes: 1) immediate clearance (ie no infection), 2) immediate onset of active disease, 3) latent infection, and 4) reactivation disease. What's important to note here is that the vast majority of people with latent infection (90%) DON'T go on to reactivate. But in those that do - half of them will happen within the first 5 years, the other half will reactivate any time after that. Death rate prior to antibiotics for active disease was around 80%.

Now, because the initial bacterial load is small and because it's so slow-growing, generally people don't have many symptoms until it's too late. Most might have a fever during their initial infection but not any lung symptoms. Latent infection is asymptomatic (because the bacteria is dormant). Reactivation TB is often diagnosed late because people tend to have months of mild non-specific symptoms, but they can be infectious long before the diagnosis is made -- sometimes up to 2-3 years!

Risk factors for reactivation are all linked to lowered immunity, e.g. malnutrition, steroids/other immune therapy (not available during Steve's time), HIV/AIDS, diabetes, kidney disease, cancers/cancer treatments, old age etc. Cigarette smoking is also a risk factor for progression.

Social context: It's well-established even (earlier than) in the 1800s that TB predominates in poorer neighbourhoods that suffer from overcrowding and poor sanitation. 1930s stats showed that Black and immigrant neighbourhoods had TB mortality rates 6 times that of White neighbourhoods. Amongst "transients" living in the Bowery District (I mention this because I saw that Steve's childhood home is in one version of canon listed as Lower East Manhattan), death rate was approaching 350 per 100 000 population. Screening of around 4000 homeless people in NYC found 5% had active infection -- now remember how we said 5% of people with latent infection develop active infection? That means that it's highly likely that the number of homeless people carrying latent infections were 10-20 times the number of active cases.

Assuming Sarah died in Steve's late teens, and assuming we take Steve's year of birth as 1918, and assuming that the duration from diagnosis to death is about 2 years, this means Sarah probably died somewhere around 1934-1937 and was diagnosed 1-2 years before that. The timing is important in that it coincides with the tail end of the Depression and the introduction of the New Deal. On the health front, though, there's been a progressive loss of interest by policymakers because TB mortality was starting to become overtaken by other illnesses. Follow-up treatment of new patients were left to voluntary agencies, hospitals and private physicians, with only 14% of new cases being supervised by the Health Department in 1936. This meant poorer patients generally fell through the cracks for their treatment.

Treatment: Pre-antibiotic era TB treatment was sanatorium based - residential homes for TB patients. It served both to sequester infectious patients from society, and also ensured that they had rest, nutrition and fresh air. It might sound idyllic but it's really not your 21st century hotel quarantine. People were mandated strict horizontal bed rest for months, which meant 1) people become debilitated from the bed rest and 2) movement through the beds are SLOW so there's an extremely long wait for a spot. Places often incurred substantial cost, although the health department subsidised some (and also forcibly detained some people), but if you're the breadwinner in a poor family, losing income for months even if you didn't have to pay for your sanatorium admission is just not feasible. I don't know enough about what Sarah and Steve would have been able to access through social programs. I don't see a loving mother leaving her teenage son if she couldn't be sure he had some way to support himself, but she also wouldn’t have wanted him (or Bucky) to have the burden of caring for her when she is highly infectious. Maybe he dropped out of school to work (not easy for a sickly kid with no experience or education to find a job during the Depression!), or maybe he got a scholarship and Bucky shared as much of the living costs as Steve would allow, or maybe Steve moved in with Bucky’s family for some time while Sarah was at a sanatorium until Steve found a job.

Screening: here's a good article on TB screening for army recruits throughout the wars. WW2 screening for TB was based on radiographs, which erm...I cbb looking up the exactly sensitivity, but it's easy to miss a mild or latent TB on an X-ray. The Mantoux test (tuberculin skin test) wasn't introduced for army screening until the Korean War, which would have been far more sensitive in picking up latent infections if Steve had one.

Vaccine: You brought up an interesting point about the BCG vaccine (which is still used today) being first tested in 1921. The efficacy had been difficult to measure before newer diagnostic methods became available in the last few decades, but it rates somewhere around 30%.

This article provides some insight on the checkered history of the early BCG vaccine. In summary: it was first tested in France in 1921 and trialled in other European countries by the end of that decade. The US team in 1929, however, isolated virulent TB from the vaccine, which made them hesitate in using it. This was immediately followed by the "Lubeck disaster" in 1930, where the majority of 250 infants in Germany who received a contaminated vaccine developed TB, with almost a third of them dying. The cause was NOT the vaccine, but the incident gave it a terrible rep. It looks like the BCG didn't get used more commonly until WW2, so it's possible that Steve and Bucky might have gotten their vaccinations there, but not before.

So there you go. I feel like the time around Sarah’s diagnosis and death would have been awful for Steve. He’s at the cusp of adulthood, which is already a very stressful and uncertain time, more so for someone with chronic illness, and now he has to wing it on his own. It was a particularly difficult time for the rest of society too, so people are likely to be less charitable in general, and a desperate kid with no guardian or advocate is an easy target to take advantage of. This is most likely the period Steve refers to when he says “even when I had nothing, I had Bucky”, so my guess is Bucky contributed a lot to help Steve through these few years.

#asks #tuberculosis #steve rogers #sarah rogers #history #steve rogers meta #medical meta

[shespeaksinsongs]

Can We Keep Him? | Harry x Reader

A/N: I've had this idea for so long but never put it to the computer. Harry strikes me as a pet man, the kind who'd never miss an opportunity to get a new animal. Anyways, enjoy this fluffy fic! <3

Summary: Harry convinces Y/N to get another stray dog.

Warnings/content: Fluff, Fem!Reader, soft Harry and soft reader

Word count: 933 words

THANKS TO @animatedglittergraphics-n-more FOR THE DIVIDER! ALL CREDITS GO TO THEM!

"Y/N, please!" Harry begged, his large hands cupped together as he followed Y/N from the living room to the kitchen.

"No, Harry, two dogs is more than enough." Y/N said sternly, making sure he caught the pointed look she gave him.

"But he's so cute! And if we don't take him, who will?" Harry said sadly, trying to evoke empathy out of his wife. It was working, but Y/N wouldn't let him know that.

Y/N sighed, looking lovingly into her newly-wedded husband's eyes. "Babe, dogs are a lot of work. He could be sick and make Molly and Echo sick, too!" Y/N said, flattening Harry's disheveled tie. It was sunset, and Harry had just gotten home from work after spotting a stray dog in front of their house. He could never resist a pet. They had three turtles, one parakeet, a cat who came and went whenever she pleased, and two dogs - essentially, Y/N and Harry Potter maintained a zoo in their home.

Harry looked dejectedly into Y/N's eyes, and Y/N could almost detect tears that were meeting his waterline. "Please?" Harry asked again, this time his voice gentler than before.

Y/N sighed deeply. Saying "no" to Harry was never an easy task, no matter what it was that he was asking for. Harry had been denied so many things that were rightfully his in his life that Y/N only felt it fair to give him what he wanted most of the time. Needless to say, she spoiled him entirely too much. "Okay, baby. But if he has owners and we find them, we have to bring him back, okay?" Y/N said, holding Harry's jaw close to her lips.

Harry smiled sheepishly and bent down to give Y/N a sweet and excited kiss. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Harry exclaimed, picking Y/N up by the waist and spinning her around until he got dizzy. When he set her down, he grinned. "There's no time to waste! Come on, let's go!" Harry said, pulling Y/N by the hand, barely giving her enough time to grab a jacket.

Harry and Y/N finally found the dog after a few minutes of waltzing around their neighborhood. "This is the dog?" Y/N said, looking down at a brown and white medium-sized Basset hound who was peacefully sleeping over a bag of trash in a dodgy alleyway.

"Yes, I know he doesn't look too cute right now, but he's so sweet, and if you just give him a chance-"

"My love," Y/N interrupted, causing Harry to shut up, his eyes widening. "relax. We're going to get him, don't worry." She smiled, rubbing his arm up and down. "Now, let's get out of here; this alley is all sorts of creepy." Y/N crossed her arms, looking around anxiously, waiting for Harry to wake up the sleeping beauty.

Harry bent down to rub the dog's stomach, whispering sweet phrases to him. "Come on, buddy, get up. We're gonna take you home." Slowly, the dog awoke, and much to Y/N's surprise, it flipped over on its back to let Harry rub its belly further.

"Aw!" Y/N smiled. "What a sweet boy." Y/N said, bending down to watch as the dog let his paws curl up to his chest. "Well, he hasn't been neutered, so he may not belong to anyone." Y/N said, pointing to the dog's privates.

"Yes!" Harry said, pumping his arms up in the air. "Could you pass me the lead and collar, darling?" He asked, holding his hand out.

Y/N handed Harry what he asked for and looked lovingly at the dog as they apparated back home.

The next day, Harry and Y/N brought the dog to the vet. He had been neutered, groomed, and examined for disease.

"He's all healthy! You were fortunate to find a dog like him in this condition. Because of his breed, he's prone to obesity, but make sure he eats a good amount of food every day, and you should be fine!" The vet smiled, giving the dog two pats on the back before making her way out.

Harry beamed at his wife and waited for the doctor to leave before leaning in for a deep kiss on the lips. "Thank you so much, my love. You won't regret it."

"If he keeps on making you smile this much, I don't doubt it." Y/N smiled gently, kissing Harry on the forehead. "What do you want to name him?" She said, leaning on his forehead.

"Hm." Harry thought, staring pensively at his new pet. "I think he looks like a Saturn. What do you think?" He looked over at his wife, Y/N, who was also staring at the sweet dog.

"I think... that that's a great name." Y/N smiled, apparating with the dog and her husband out of the vet's office to introduce Saturn to their two girls, Molly and Echo, a Beagle, and Doberman, respectively.

"Molly! Echo! We brought you a new friend!" Harry shouted up the stairway, calling for his puppies. In actuality, they were both over three years old, but Harry refused to call them anything but babies, missing when they were small enough to fit into his arms.

Molly and Echo rushed downstairs, almost bumping into each other as they greeted their new friend with wagging tails and sloppy licks across the face.

"We have a nice family." Harry smiled, watching the three run through a doggy hole that Y/N built into their backyard door.

"We have the perfect family." Y/N reassured, leaning in once more to give Harry another kiss on the lips.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry angst #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry oneshot #harry x you #harry one shot #harry potter oneshot #harry fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry fluff #hlbutterflyoriginal

[chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay]

// Day 8 //

// Wind //

The wind swept through Marinette's hair. Her new second-hand convertible gliding, seamlessly.

She pulled up to her boutique in downtown Gotham. Business was booming and her newest line sold out almost immediately. She had to order extra fabric almost every day just to keep up with demand. Not to mention her commissions.

Luckily, her new notoriety earned her enough money to buy a second-hand car to carry any materials she finds while 'browsing' fabric and fashion stores (which is usually a lot) and to hire a few new employees to take on the floor designs, whilst she worked on commissions.

She entered the shop and flipped the open sign. Marinette sat behind the counter and pulled out her sketchbook, she could design while working the register, so she would usually be the one on 'desk duty', unless she had to actually assemble her commissions.

The bell rang and a tall man wearing all black walked in. He was about Marinette's age and definitely easy on the eyes.

"Where can I find the owner?"

Marinette smiled, "Right here."

An incredulous look passed his face, "You're MDC?"

"Is that such a shocker?"

He looked at her as if analysing her movements, "I just pictured you… Older."

She squinted her eyes, "What can I do for you?"

…..

As it turns out Marinette was commissioned to make a dress for the man's (who she learned was named Damian) sister.

It would be her birthday in 4 months and a surprise ball organised by his family was going to be held in her honour (pfft rich people). Damian was tasked with getting her dress.

Marinette was given a picture of the girl to know what would suit her, her measurements (rich people apparently have their family members measurements on hand) and the theme of the party, 'Space', not vague at all.

Every once in awhile, Damian would come around to see her progress, make a comment or two and generally be a pest.

Soon, he started to come by once a week, then every day.

He'd play it off as being a diligent client, but none of Marinette's other clients would even stop by until the fitting. Sometimes never.

Marinette, despite her reluctance, became (dare she say it?) fond of Damian's lack of filter. It was refreshing.

What she didn't realise was that Damian was becoming quite fond of Marinette, himself.

…..

An envelope was dropped on her desk, two months before her original deadline (she easily finished in half the time she needed, with maybe a tiny bit of Ladybug luck on her side).

"What's this?" She said picking the envelope up and carefully ripping the tab.

"An invitation."

She looked up curiously at him, before reading the contents,

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng,

You are cordially invited to the Birthday Ball of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, as Damian Wayne's date.

As you know the dress code is black tie and the theme is 'Space'. Usually, in these invitations, a list of trusted and capable boutiques and designers would be included. But, due to your chosen profession, I assume you can make the necessary arrangements.

Please be aware that paparazzi and press will be covering this event.

We sincerely await your response,

Alfred Pennyworth,

On behalf of the Wayne family.

P. S. We have heard many brilliant things about your designs and we can't wait to see the outfits you make. We wish to make a formal request for you to be the official designer and consultant for the Wayne Family.

"You want me to be your consultant?"

Damian tutted, "And designer."

Marinette read the invitation again before a teasing grin broke out on her face, "You also, want me as your date."

He controlled his face into a composed look, "I may have gotten used to you in the past two months."

She poked his shoulder, "'Gotten used to'? Oh c'mon, Damian. You at least tolerate me, you even want me as your date, that could qualify as liking. Or dare I say it," she gasped overdramatically, "Friends."

Damian tutted, "Maybe, I want to be more than friends."

She smiled at him, "Maybe I do, too."

…..

The night of the ball arrived and after sending Cass' dress, shoes and accessories over to the Manor with Damian, Marinette got ready.

She was careful to make her dress less extravagant looking than Cass', she didn't want to show-up the birthday girl.

Her off-the-shoulder dark blue bodice was complimented by a skirt covered in hand-embroidered constellations. She wore her hair in a low bun decorated with a star hairpiece.

Marinette also put in long chain earrings, one with a star and one with a moon, that were complemented by a choker like chain with dainty stars and planets. Her shoes were gladiator-style silver heels.

Pleased with her outfit, she walked outside her apartment to find her new boyfriend waiting by a limo.

Once he saw her, his back unconsciously straightened, "You look lovely, Marinette."

Marinette looked at Damian's tux, it looked like your average black tie outfit, except if you looked closely enough you could see tiny stars and planets embroidered into it, camouflaged subtly into the tuxedo with its perfectly matching colour, "You clean up nicely yourself, Damian," She straightened his bow tie with a smirk, "Nice tux."

Damian grinned, "Y'know, I got out from a boutique downtown. You might know it, bright colours, amazing clothes, the owner's pretty cute."

"Oh? That sounds like I have a competition, Damian. Do I need to fight a girl for your heart?" She teased.

He held her hand, "You wouldn't need to because I'm head over heels with this girl. Nothing you can do or say could change that."

She smiled softly and lightly pecked his cheek, "Not even this?"

"Hmm, actually try that, again."

She rolled her eyes, playfully, but still kissed his cheek, or at least she tried to. Instead, Damian moved his head at the very last second and captured his lips on hers.

When they pulled apart, slightly out of breath, Damian whispered as a smile tugged his lips, "You have the most convincing argument I've ever seen, Angel. I might just have to reconsider this boutique girl."

Marinette grinned, "Hmm? Well, maybe another argument or two would fully convince you."

…..

After a few more kisses, the two realised that they should leave, lest they be late. They pulled up to the Manor courtyard, that was currently being overrun by tabloids and paparazzi.

Damian exited the car and held a hand out to Marinette. This action alone caused a gasp and whispers to ripple through the crowd, 'Damian Wayne arrived with a date?'

Marinette placed her hand in his and let him help her out. The paparazzi ooh'd at her dress before clamouring for an interview with Damian and his new amour.

"Damian, who is this lovely lady?"

With his hand in hers, he answered, "My girlfriend Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Marinette! Who are you wearing?"

"It's actually a dress I made myself, I own a boutique here in Gotham."

More questions came.

"How did you two meet?"

Damian answered, "Well, I actually commissioned her to make my sisters dress for this evening, which you'll see later. And I just kept bugging her until, I guess, I grew on her."

The crowd aww'd.

A brash voice broke out of the crowd, "How do you respond to the rumours about how you're the father-to-be of the product of a drunken one-night-stand?"

Marinette's face fell. She knew that voice.

Damian frowned, looking into the crowd for the speaker, "Well, I'd say those rumours are false."

"You bastard!"

A heavily pregnant, sausage haired brunette ran out and slapped him in the face.

Marinette knew this woman. The one and only, Lila Rossi.

"How could you abandon me and your child? For some hussy!"

Damian's demeanor changed from calm to extremely pissed, "Ma'am, I've never met you before in my life. I don't know who the father of your child is, but it's not me. Now, it would do you well not to speak of my girlfriend like that, she is a very respectable woman and I don't appreciate the way you speak of her."

Marinette's eyes narrowed, "You may never have met her, Damian, but I have. She's Lila Rossi. Remember that liar I told you about, from Paris?"

He nodded, suddenly with a scowl on his face, "The one who willingly got akumatized?"

The reporters gasped, they all knew about the horrors of what happened in Paris. The city was under siege for 7 years and after 3, it was made into a No Man's Land. Nobody was allowed to leave or enter the city without permits, and those were only given to the initial evacuees, those who were most vulnerable, like the elderly, mothers and babies, the sick.

Nobody was allowed to leave or enter after that, except military personnel, until Hawkmoth was defeated.

The city itself was ravaged with gangs and was split into territories, wherever the military didn't have control over. It was a massacre and over 30% of Parisians who stayed died of disease, starvation or they were killed and couldn't be revived by Ladybug's Lucky Charm (including Marinette's parents). Everyone else was just killed and tortured over and over again, unable to escape the cruel cycle. Then the impossible happened, the heroes of Paris found Hawkmoth and the Final Battle began.

They say, very few Parisians were actually alive during the fight and can remember in full detail what actually happened. The only thing the world knows for sure is that Hawkmoth died that day, disintegrated by Chat Noir's Cataclysm in an insane attempt to take his miraculous while his powers were activated after the Butterfly Brooch had already been retrieved. He didn't stand a chance.

There was still another year before Martial Law was lifted and the City of Love was free, although few call it that anymore.

The dead were counted and mourned and many survivors couldn't bare to stay in their hometown after the heroes announced their sudden (albeit well deserved) retirement. Only about 40% of the city's original population still lives there. The survivors have been known across the globe to be some of the toughest, most resourceful people alive, it actually became commonplace to put 'Siege Survivor' onto resumés and CVs.

The Siege had a traumatic effect on the entire world, but especially the Parisians, and to hear that Marinette was one of those few, really put everything into perspective for the reporters. And to hear that someone willingly helped Hawkmoth was truly an insult to the dead.

Damian glared at Lila, "Miss Rossi. You are truly a disgrace. When your baby is born, I will take a paternity test to prove it's not mine and I would encourage you to grow up and stop trying to live your silly fantasies with your lies and start living in the real world. You have another person to take care of now and I hope you can realise that."

Lila smirked, "Please, I'll be putting this brat up for adoption the second it comes out."

From across the courtyard, Bruce Wayne shot up and ran over to his son.

"Did I hear 'Adoption'? Oh hello, Marinette, Cass looks lovely tonight."

Marinette grinned, "Thank you, Bruce. I hope she likes the dress."

He smiled and shook his head, "She loves it. I bet she'll insist on wearing it for the next hundred parties. Now, what's this about an adoption? Asking for a friend."

Lila stared at him in bemusement.

The newspapers and magazines certainly won't run out of things to talk about. I mean what did they expect from a Wayne party.

…..

After escaping the drama (and Bruce) Marinette and Damian entered the Manor, so they could take their seats.

As soon as all the guests and (legitimate) reporters arrived, a young woman walked down the grand staircase, wearing a dark blue ball gown covered with stars. She wore spiralling silver heels and a simple pendant. Her dark hair was woven with a golden star hairpiece.

Cass looked absolutely stunning.

Damian nudged Marinette, "You absolutely outdid yourself."

She grinned.

…..

Throughout the night Marinette danced with her boyfriend over and over, laughter emanating from the two of them.

Towards the end of the night, Cass got on stage to say a few words. And few it was.

"Thank you all for coming, tonight. Thank you, MDC, for this lovely gown. Have a good time."

The Waynes smiled at their family member's antics.

…..

A few months later, Marinette sat beside a huge pile of clothes in Dicks room, while Damian sat on the couch.

"Dick, sweetie, I am the family designer and consultant, I swear to fucking God if I find one more disco outfit I will throw hands."

Damian snorted and she turned on him.

"Don't think I won't come after you, Wayne. Black on black, really?"

Bruce walked into the room. "Keep it down will you," He whispered furiously, "The babies are sleeping."

After being plastered on the cover of several magazines for the wrong reasons, Lila couldn't find anyone to adopt her baby. Luckily for her, serial adopter Bruce Wayne offered to adopt the baby, on the condition that she agreed to a closed adoption and wouldn't even think about the Wayne's and Marinette, again.

Surprisingly, the baby turned out to be babies. The twins were born 5 minutes apart on different days. Two girls.

They already had Bruce wrapped around their fingers. Although nobody was surprised.

Marinette grabbed the rubbish bag and threw all of Dicks clothes in there.

"Hey!"

Marinette glared at him, "We're going to give these to a charity shop. And then you need a brand new wardrobe."

Bruce sighed, "I'd argue but it's true and it's not like we can't afford it."

"Hey!"

…..

Outfits

Mari

Cass

@daminette-december2019-2020

Thank you @18-fandoms-unite-08 for beta-reading!

Buy me a coffee?

#Daminette December #Day 8 Wind

[chibi-beaver]

I'm in a bad batch kinda mood today and decided to write some Hunter & Omega fluff/angst!

Rating: General

Warnings: none (this is pretty wholesome)

Summary: After Hunter loses his cool with Omega, he remembers what Cut and Suu told him and tries to make things right

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, domestic fluff, parenting, father daughter relationship

There will be Bad Batch spoilers in this so don't read if you haven't watched the latest episode (episode 4)

Honestly, I'm pretty proud of this rn 😁

Story is also attached under the cut if you wanna read it here, if you like it I'd appreciate the notes here and/or kudos on ao3 😁

Edit: I forgot to add some fic tags 😳

Omega had gotten herself into yet another jam. All they had to do was get supplies on Tatooine. It certainly wasn't the nicest planet but it was in the outer rim and for the most part, off the radar of the Empire.

All Omega had to do was stay close to Hunter as they went into Mos Espa. It was supposed to be an in and out supply run but when was any supply run in and out? He should've known that something had to happen but why did it have to happen to Omega?

She had gotten herself into the hands of yet another bounty hunter. Hadn't she learned her lesson after the encounter on Pantora? Hunter thought to himself as he ran through the sandy "streets" of Mos Espa in search of Omega.

"Wrecker, Tech, Echo! I need help finding Omega!" Hunter yelled into his comm.

"I'm on it!" Wrecker replied.

"I'm finishing the ship's repairs but I've sent Echo," Tech said.

"I thought Echo was repairing the ship with you," Hunter said.

"He was, but we're almost done," Tech replied.

Hunter was relieved that he got two of his men helping him find Omega.

Hunter tripped over his feet. The grains of sand were making his feet slide everywhere. Just when things couldn't get any worse, Hunter noticed a Tusken Raider running off with something. Upon closer look, it was his blaster.

Hunter was conflicted on what to do but he eventually ran after the Tusken Raider and tackled it to the ground before ripping the gun out of his tiny hands. Some more Tusken Raiders surrounded Hunter, weapons pointed at him. Probably stolen weapons, he thought. He looked around, looking for an out. He knew if he shot one, he'd subsequently get shot by another, which could incapacitate him, but he couldn't waste any time. If their encounter with the bounty hunter on Pantora taught him anything, he knew that they were cunning and fearless. They would do anything to keep their hands on Omega and would harm anyone who got in their way. Almost like what he would do for Omega. He just wished that she would stop getting into trouble.

Suddenly, they all ran off at the sound of something. Hunter was unsure of the source of the sound until his comm went off.

"You can thank me later, Tuskens hate Krayt Dragons," Tech said.

"How did you know I was-"

"I got my repairs done and I started watching the camera feeds around Mos Espa and noticed some Tuskens bothering you in the background of one," Tech replied.

"Now I'm glad you record the sound of every animal you've heard of," Hunter said, relief permeating his voice.

"I can see the bounty hunter!" Wrecker said into the comm.

"Transmit me your coordinates!" Hunter said.

"How do I do that!?" Wrecker asked.

"I got this, you focus on finding Omega," Tech said as he transmitted Wrecker's coordinates to Hunter and Echo.

Hunter immediately ran to them, meeting up with Echo on the way. Just as they got there, Wrecker got knocked out by Bounty Hunter who seemed to use the weapon he knocked Wrecker out with as a hat.

"I got Wrecker, go find Omega!" Echo said as he tried to help Wrecker.

Hunter obliged to what Echo said as he continued running after the bounty hunter. He was led to a dead-end street where he saw an anooba cornering Omega. Hunter took out his blaster and shot the anooba in the leg, causing him to yelp. Omega was distressed by the sound, as was the bounty hunter who retaliated by throwing his hat like a frisbee at Hunter. Hunter ducked just in time and avoided being hit by the hat. The bounty hunter then took out a weapon of his own and began shooting at Hunter with it. Hunter continued running towards the bounty hunter, to tackle him. It was successful until the anooba came back to tackle Hunter, causing him to drop his blaster.

Omega slowly made her way towards the blaster, but the anooba must have smelt her because he got off of Hunter and jumped on Omega. Hunter took the opportunity to pick up his blaster and pointed it at the bounty hunter's head, just as Echo and Wrecker arrived at the scene. Cornering the bounty hunter. He called his anooba off of Omega as he searched for a way out.

"What do you want with Omega?" Hunter asked, keeping the blaster pointed at the bounty hunter's head. He started speaking in an unknown language.

"Where's Tech when you need him?" Echo muttered as he turned on his comm but didn't say anything.

Hunter repeated the question as Omega approached Wrecker and stood behind his leg, she was trembling.

"He's trying to say that he was put off to it by an unknown client, it's just a job to him, a good-paying job at that," Tech whispered as he listened in.

The bounty hunter didn't answer the question as the anooba brought back his hat. The bounty hunter took the hat and hit Hunter with it before running to make his escape, pushing Echo and Wrecker out of the way.

"What were you thinking?!" Hunter said frustratedly to Omega.

"I-I'm sorry," Omega said.

"I thought you would've learned not to talk to strangers or touch strange animals after Pantora!" Hunter continued.

Omega said nothing in return as she stayed at Wrecker's side.

"You could've gotten yourself killed again! These situations are why I wanted to send you with Cut and Suu! So that you could be safe!" Hunter said. He saw the sad expression on Omega's face immediately after he said that. She looked like she was going to cry.

"Lay off her!" Wrecker said as he took Omega's hand and started back to the ship with Echo.

Hunter quickly began to regret what he had said. The regret kept itself on his mind as he walked back to the ship.

When he got back to the ship, Omega was in her room with the curtain closed.

"Let's get off this desert world," Tech said as he plotted a course for Idaflor. Maybe this time they would actually make it there without needing to repair the ship or to get supplies.

Hunter began to grow concerned as hours passed and Omega had still not left her room. Usually, she wouldn't stay in her room long. Her curious mind always kept her on the go, even though she had seen the inside of the ship countless times. Even if she wasn't feeling curious, she would usually leave to use the fresher. Tech looked back from the pilot's seat at Hunter

"What's wrong?" Tech asked.

"Nothing that you can fix," Hunter said, glancing at Omega's room.

"Well, that's a lie because I know a way to fix most things," Tech said.

"Yea, you can fix ships but you know about as much as I do about parenting," Hunter replied.

"Ah, it's about Omega. Hmmm, well maybe you should talk to her, perhaps discussing whatever happened might help things," Tech said.

Hunter didn't reply. Rather he sat back into his chair while Tech turned back to whatever device he was building. He remembered Tech telling him what it was but he had forgotten. As Hunter thought about what he could do, his mind went back to Cut and Suu.

"Easy, she's not a soldier."

Cut said that to him the first time he lashed out at Omega.

"You're safe, that's all that matters."

Hunter reminded himself that Omega was on the ship with them and not in the hands of that bounty hunter but at the same time, she shouldn't have touched that anooba. They didn't know the animal, it could've been diseased, or as it was in this case, connected to someone dangerous.

"Children will always find ways of getting into trouble, Hunter. It's what they do. Protecting them is what we do".

Hunter thought more about what he had said on Tatooine. Even if some of it was warranted, he shouldn't have brought up Cut and Suu. It was a bit of a sore spot for Omega, knowing that Hunter was going to pawn her off on Cut and Suu, even if he thought it was for her own good.

Hunter decided to approach Omega's room. He climbed up a couple steps of the ladder.

"Omega?" Hunter said.

"Go away!" Omega said.

"I just want to talk," Hunter said. "No yelling this time. I'm not mad." Hunter continued in a gentler tone.

"Fine," Omega said.

Hunter pulled the curtain to side slightly. She was sitting in her room with Lula held in one of her arms as she looked out the window at the whizzing of hyperspace.

Hunter sat in the small face, doing his best to fit. Wrecker clearly designed this space for someone of Omega's size. He eventually sat horizontally in the room, with one leg hanging outside of the space for his own comfort.

"You're gonna get rid of me again, aren't you?" Omega said.

"What? No. You said you wanted to be with us, I promised you that if you wanted to be with us then you will be with us."

"But I screwed up again," Omega said.

"You said it yourself once, you have a lot to learn. But so do I and I realize I was a bit too harsh today. I'm sorry."

"I can't help that I'm curious sometimes," Omega said, thinking back on how it was her who wanted to pet the anooba.

"I know, but sometimes it's better to watch from afar," Hunter said.

Omega didn't say anything in response. Rather she clutched the Lula.

"I'm not going to get rid of you. We want you here just as much as you want to be here. I'm sorry for bringing up Cut and Suu and I'm just glad you're okay," Hunter said.

To Hunter's surprise, Omega moved closer to him and put her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. Hunter was initially taken aback but he soon returned the hug. When they eventually pulled away from one another, Omega smiled.

"Now let's agree to put what happened today behind us," Hunter said.

"Ok," Omega replied.

Hunter made his way back down the ladder and extended a hand out to Omega,

"wanna come down and hang out with us or explore the ship or do whatever you want?" Hunter asked.

"Sure!" Omega said as she came out of her room and started asked Tech various questions about the ship and the controls. Hunter watched and smiled at seeing Omega feeling a bit better.

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #tbb spoilers #Hunter & Omega #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 author #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb fanfiction #bad batch fanfiction #wholesome #fluff #angst #fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #oneshot #sw tbb #tbb #star wars #star wars the bad batch #sw #sw tcw #I'm quite proud of this

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Floret

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Reader, mild Fishlegs x Reader

Words: 1202

Your heart’s gone sour, and like all dead things, seeds sprout in its wake. Eventually they grow too large for you to handle on your own. You’ve come to terms with it. For now, you just spend your time flying under the radar, taking long walks and giving good advice. It’s a lonely life, but it’s yours.

Tags: flower disease, hanahaki disease, Unrequited love, angst, postcanon, sensitive topics, gn reader

Full - Next>

“Hey,” You leaned against the open door frame, “Have you figured out what it means, yet?”

“O-oh, hi,” Fishlegs looked up from his book, one you noticed had an array of different plants etched onto the leather cover, “Sort of.”

You pursed your lips. You didn’t like having to come to him with this, honestly preferring to keep it to yourself, but there wasn’t anywhere else to find knowledge like this on Berk. 

“It’s a wild pansy.” He started, hesitating.

“Yes,” You urged him on. You knew this already.

“Wild Pansies symbolize love, and nostalgia.” Your heart stuttered as he just confirmed what you already knew. However, you couldn’t honestly find it in yourself to be surprised. It wasn't like there was much for you to do. As it was, you were just exploring a few whims.

 Fishlegs closed his book, carefully pushing back his chair. Along the side of one wall is a large bookcase. He carefully slots his book along one of the lower shelves.

“...Is it useful?” You look away, rubbing at your arm. It is covered in a heavy layer of furs, mostly to hide the thinning meat. You are all skin and bones now, and it is getting more and more difficult to cover up. Even now, the petals tickle at your throat.

“For skin rashes and bumps, mostly,” He looks at you meaningfully, “I-Is there a reason you’re asking?”

You furrowed your brows.

“I’ve told you,” You said, touching your face. There’s nothing on it, is there? “I just found a flower on the far side of the island. I figured it might be useful. That’s all.”

Fishlegs sighed. You rub your temples as the room spins a little, the silence unbearably stuffy.

“How’s Ruffnut?” Fishlegs perks up slightly at the mention of his pregnant wife, though the sad look on his face hasn’t abated. You are not sure which of two issues he’s thinking of, but you both are aware that he has no right to insert himself into your business. The two of you are not even close enough to qualify as acquaintances. 

The two of you had a shared interest, and in another world you might have been friends. As of now, the closest you’d ever gotten was a glance from a distant stranger you’d mistaken for someone else. Not enough for any sort of real love. And, he wasn’t the type to let anyone but himself care for his dragon if he could help it.

It didn’t take any close bond to understand you, however. Yours was an open secret. Hidden barely under a veil out of view, easy to find if anyone thought to look for it, but inconvenient, easier to leave a mystery. 

You tuned him out, thinking back to earlier in that day

Your line has always turned out weak-hearted people. More lovers and poets than warriors. It’s what made you different from the rest. It’s what excluded you, made you an outcast.

You stayed detached and distant from most people anyways, as you were taught to. It wouldn't be good to get attached, you contracted the lover’s sickness. Unfortunately, it happened anyway.

You’d fallen into friendship with another little outcast a very, very long time ago. It was barely a memory now, a relic of a time long forgotten. 

You, the poor little dragon groomer, had spent your teen years in your dusty little stables with your fine-bristled brush and washcloth watching him adventure from afar. 

Your heart, so vulnerable and fragile, had slowly begun to beat for a place it didn’t belong.

“I just- I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Their relationship was on the rocks, it’s true. But that had nothing to do with you, you’d not step a foot into their business. They would overcome it and remain just as strong as they always had.

“Give it time,” You sighed, voice raspy, staring out over the oceans that surrounded New Berk, “You both need to cool off. Then you can talk.”

If they weren’t meant for each other then, they certainly were now. 

They, who spent hours, days, years fighting and loving and living together. There was no way that that hadn’t changed him irrevocably. Unrecognizably. So now it must have been that you didn’t love who he was, you loved the ghost of who he could have been. Who you might have known.

They were molded to a perfect fit. 

You could have only wished to have a fraction of what they had with anyone at all. It was only unfortunate how being a lover didn’t attract any love to you.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup bent to rub at his eyes. A budding beard, fluffy cape and respectable leather armor. He almost made up the perfect image of ‘young, promising Chief.’

His feet hug over the cliffside, swinging airily, displacing pebbles along the edge. The smell of fresh dew

Recent rainfall made wandering along the cliff sides dangerous. Neither of you cared for the danger. Hiccup’s years on dragonback made him reckless. Your years of yearning and distress made you apathetic. You found yourself along the cliffs often.

“That’s what everyone is always telling me. But I’m not sure I'm doing the right thing. I’m not sure I did the right thing.” He ranted.

“What’s right is subjective,” You twirled the stem of a flower between your fingers. You’d coughed it up before he’d gotten there. As his trusted confidant, you welcomed him as he dropped down besides you, always the listener. You didn’t have much of a voice to talk with anymore, anyways. Your throat was sore, voice scratchy.

“It’s unfortunate that, as Chief, you’re constantly at the mercy of others. She’s always been right for you, though, hasn’t she? You’ve loved her since we were kids. You loved her as a teen, you married her, so that hasn’t changed, has it? You’re going to have kids soon. You’re trying to have children. Don’t get cold feet. Don’t back out on her now.”

“I know, but… I don’t know if I’m right for her,” His voice cracked, “I feel like I’m holding her back.

“I know you haven’t considered anything else. There is no one else for you, is there?” You gave him a pointed look, urging him to not make a mistake he would ultimately regret, “She’s the only one who can decide that. She chose you. She’s wanted no one else since then, if she ever had at all.”

“Yeah… Yeah,” He slowly nodded an affirmative, staring up into the clouds as seabirds called to each other in the sky.  “I just… I miss Toothless. He was my best friend. I know it’s been years, but don’t know if I can be sure of anything without him here.”

You hummed. That was a sentiment you understood very well.

Death by flower was the coward’s way out. It was more honorable to go on your own terms, not led by some silly organ-led emotions. It was unvikingly. It was dishonorable. You hadn’t the courage or mind to do it, though. You didn’t want to die. And wasn’t that a bitter thought?

You’d always known that you might not have a choice.

#hiccup haddock #how to train your dragon #httyd #hiccup x reader #fanfiction #httyd imagine #hanahaki #toothless #x reader #gn reader #angst #httyd fanfiction

[squidproquoclarice]

I had an arguably obvious realization dawn on me and now I'm in my feelings. if Arthur hadn't tasked Sadie with getting Abigail to safety, she would've followed him to the grave (or saved him, who knows?) and there wouldn't have been any stopping her. I think Arthur knew that in the end and had her keep her promise to get the Marstons out, making it impossible for her to chase death beside him. Thoughts?

Wrapping this into another Ask of “You make the scenario of Sadie coming back to bury Arthur and instead rescuing him easy to believe but why do you think it was Charles who said he came back to bury him in the Epilogue?  What happened that it wasn’t Sadie?”~~~~~~~~~~~~~I think Arthur knew that, and he didn’t want her to die alongside him.  He very visibly is trying to get her and Abigail to go, even as he’s saying goodbye, and he knows the charge of protecting a (presumably widowed) Abigail and a (presumably fatherless) Jack is one of the few things that can hold her back from a suicide run with him.  He respects and trusts her enough, as one of the people now dearest to him, to protect some of the others who are also dearest to him, and that says a lot about their relationship.  It also says a lot that he's unwilling to let her possibly die beside him.  He knows the pain she’s in, but he has to believe that unlike him, with this likely fatal disease, that she can and should live  That somehow, she’s strong enough to carry on, to find the best in herself again.  He doesn’t realize how much he means to her and how much this loss will devastate her, as we see in the Epilogue.Like I remarked with Javier, her sticking with him till the end might have changed things, although I think Javier and Arthur vs Micah and Dutch would have been a more powerful standoff that might have gotten through to Dutch.  Sadie’s a fucking badass gurl, but she’s new to the gang, and like it or not, Javier standing there would probably command more respect (despite, you know, Sadie actually leading the gang for a while there.)As to why it didn’t play that way in canon, I think what happened is a matter of timing.  In Sunrise I have Sadie, Tilly, Abigail and Jack wait overnight at Copperhead Landing to make some plans, and ride when it’s light out.  That could easily have gone the other way with Sadie and Abigail getting there, and getting the hell of Dodge a lot sooner with Jack and Tilly rather than risk Pinkertons catching up with them there.  John’s shrewd, and knowing they almost definitely wouldn’t go to St. Denis to catch the train, found them on the way to or actually in Rhodes the next morning.  It was an easier call for Sadie to make to go back for Arthur’s body when it was a couple hours to Beaver Hollow and beyond.  From Rhodes, it’s a lot longer ride, and I think the weight of the situation settled on her harder.  She’d already started to accept the numb reality of Arthur being dead, whereas in the middle of the night, she still had enough anger and determination to made that short ride back, risk being caught by Pinkertons, and do the right thing by him.  In the canon scenario, she let the others get on the train, and just headed west without much of a plan.  She just couldn’t face a long ride going back to see another man she cared about so much lying there dead.  He wouldn’t let her stay with him, so he wouldn’t want her to see that, right?  Though I think it kills her that she didn’t bury Jake, and didn’t bury Arthur either.  And FWIW, though I’ve remarked he didn’t die of TB given he was still fit enough to fight Micah and instead passed out from hypoxia and exhaustion, yes, I do think he would have been dead by morning from hypothermia.  Peacefully, at least.  So Sadie going back at that point, she really would have been burying him.I don’t think Charles had the chance to make the potential save on Arthur’s life.  Not that the willingness absolutely wouldn’t be there, like there is in Sunrise to help take care of him in those first days when he’s in truly terrible shape.  But he just doesn’t have that slim but golden critical opportunity that Sadie does of being within easy striking distance, and knowing exactly what the hell happened and when.  He’s at Wapiti, doesn’t know what’s going on with the gang, and is focused on the tribe’s welfare.  Which is right and proper and what Arthur wanted for him, but given he’s totally out of that loop, and would have no reason to go to Beaver Hollow at all, let alone that night, it places him outside that small window of being able to possibly save Arthur’s life.  So Charles coming back to bury him in that case is fitting and lovely and so poignant about the trust they have--John may be stressed hard as Arthur’s brother, but Charles clearly is his brother as well by the end of Chapter 6.  And it says a lot that he came back, maybe all the way from Canada, to bury him (and Susan) once he heard.     

#arthur morgan #sadie adler #charles smith #rdr2 #thank you for coming to my red talk #Anonymous

[carehurt]

ugly mobile psa but !! real quick , there's a lot of conditions etc. being presented on this blog . don't ever feel like ur muse has to respond in an ideal way . part of representation is how it's reacted to , say joker wouldn't be the same w/o the degrading treatment he's gotten bc of his brittle bones disease . also , there's stuff , like harry's drug addiction and psychosis and matt's suicid.al tendencies that aren't easy to deal with . your muse doesn't have to know how to deal with any of it , doesn't have to be comfortable with it . i welcome it tbh . anyway , that's it , love u all <3

#' ooc . #' psa . #also like #if there is ableist material i'll tag it #easy peasy #live free lil chickens!! #let ur muse be who they be #i don't think any of us grow up learning how to deal with Everything