#morning sun moonless night

[yandere-romanticaa]

A month has passed since a strange cult took you within its ranks. It wasn't necessarily by choice but it was something you needed to do in order to survive. Your entire village had been destroyed in a sudden onslaught of ferocious demons, massacring all of your friends and family.

You were left with nothing.

For days you had roamed the mountains and with a heavy heart had accepted the fact that you were going to die, be it from starvation, dehydration or some stray demon devouring you from head to toe.

Lord Douma had other things in store for you.

He was a strange one, the man who rescued you. He was oddly easy to amuse and absolutely everything you did was incredibly entertaining to him. One of his favorite past times were when he would simply stare at you as you talk about your life and perform everyday, mundane duties. At first you thought nothing of it - he saved your life, the least you could do was indulge him just a little bit.

Red flags started to show up soon though - the way he would move and carry himself, it simply was not natural. Whenever there was a meal, Douma would not even look at the food or even have a sip of water. You chalked it up to him having his own private meals and decided to think nothing of it.

You had managed to settle within a comfortable routine which just so happened to often cross paths with the great Lord himself. He seemed to greatly enjoy your presence and would have you with him from the moment the sun had risen until wee hours in the morning.

How was he never tired?

Suspicion slowly turned to fear as you noticed that some members of the cult were missing. No one knew what came of them or where they were last seen, as if some foul creature had spirited them away.

You brought up your concerns with Lord Douma but he just called you silly and told you not to worry about it. "Nothing bad will happen to you!" he'd say reassuringly but his words gave you shallow comfort.

Douma, for whatever reason, was also quite fond of physical touch and you were his favorite when it came to that. He was absolutely shameless and would explore your body however he saw fit. Amongst those odd trysts, you noticed that a powerful metallic smell would cling onto him and would never go away no matter how hard you washed his clothing.

No amount of praying could prepare you for the horror you'd encounter on one moonless evening.

You had woken up due to a strange noise and, against your better judgment, decided to investigate. With nothing but a single candle in your hand and a long but thin nightshirt covering your body, you ventured downwards the dark and creepy hallways. It felt as though the shadows themselves were out to get you because you'd flinch at every single sound no matter how miniscule. The closer you got to Lord Douma's chambers the stranger the noises got - giggling, slurping and crunching could be heard as a horrible stench filled the air, a smell so vile that it made you want to throw up your dinner. You'd often ask him what he liked to eat but naturally, Douma would just dodge your question or say something really silly. "It's easier if I eat alone!" he'd say as he caressed your hair. With each step you took the stench became stronger and stronger and Douma's words continued to ring inside your head like bells.

"You see, I'm a bit of a night owl! It's also not smart to come to my chambers without knocking first!~"

You should have listened to him and his thinly disguised warning.

Through the tiniest of cracks you saw Douma on the floor, covered in fresh blood. A wicked grin danced across his lips as he toyed with the severed limbs with the mauled corpse of a young woman, her eyes stricken with fear even in death.

It took you every ounce and willpower to not scream bloody murder.

With the way he was treating the corpse you'd think that Lord Douma was but a child with a precious toy. His light tone and playful gestures sent chills down your spine as you covered your mouth with your hand, a desperate attempt to conceal any potential noises that may escape you. You watched him for a few moments as you let it all sink in, not even realizing just how much your entire being trembled with fear. Just before you could make a break for it you heard Douma speak.

"I know you're there, watching me. I don't know who you are but I can smell you!"

Crap.

Dropping the candle to the floor you could do nothing but freeze as Douma continued to speak, total indifference lacing his voice.

"I would leave, if I were you. I am in a good mood tonight and shall play stupid so I won't turn around to see your face! Now, be a good little disciple and go back to bed!"

Squeaking like a helpless puppy, you ran away with your tail behind your legs, not realizing that Douma knew damn well that it was you. The demon could sense your presence across a giant mountain if need be and your sweet smell would invade his senses every time he would think about you. It was a shame that you saw him in such a state but he really did not want to kill you. He was content with playing dumb and hoped that it would be the same case for you as well.

As long as you kept your lips sealed, everything was going to be alright.

Part 2 here!

#he's so bbg (he would eat me without a second thought) #yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yanderecore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere aesthetic #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer x y/n #yandere demon slayer imagines #yandere demon slayer x reader #demon slayer douma #yandere douma x reader #douma #yandere douma #douma x reader #demon slayer x reader

[bluecapsicum]

Night and dusk skies illustrations for my daily meteorological fiction project, Reports From Unknown Places About Indescribable Events (Twitter, Instagram, Mastodon, Bluesky, archives on my website).

Keep reading for the companion texts.

March 25th: We report: it is marshy here, and we are struggling to pick our feet back up every time we put them down. We speak low, but the sound of our steps is louder than our voice anyway. We watch our expert's back through the fog of our breath. The full moon is completely obscured.

April 2nd: We report, tonight, from the depths of soggy darkness. It is a day for night set out here, the clouds are practically shining in the sub-horizon light. Our expert talks at length about the Purkinje effect, the fact that the colour our human eyes see best in low light is blue.

April 14th: We report between one breath and the next: colours are not burnt out yet, there are a handful lying around there. In just a beat, the day will have been consumed, down to the very last bit of candlewick. We are trying to cram all our hopes and dreams into that last second.

April 22nd: We report after staying alone in the dark for too long: it is a nice thought that after the Sun burns out, so many of those stars will be left. So that the small handful of minerals that is in our ribcage and our teeth and nails may yet be part of something else, in a long time.

May 4th: We report at the hour when ghosts appear, walking in the middle of the road. It is not enough of a place that we imagine any cars could come by here and now, but we keep listening for them anyway. Instead, we hear echoes of a motorway in the distance, and the wind in our ears.

May 8th: We report on a moonless night: the power is out in the neighbourhood. Our eyes are tired, it is a balmy spring evening, and when we look up, we cannot help but think the stars are about to fall on us. They flicker. We lose our balance as we forget where the ground is.

May 12th: We report at dawn: when we got up during the night, the sky was clear and full of stars, but this morning, we can smell rain and shivers on the wind. The clouds brood, big and dark; we appreciate their languidness in the face of the breeze. In time, the sunlight will break out.

May 20th: We report about early in the night, when there is still blue to be found in the remnants of light. This is not anywhere near a clear night - we can tell by the brushstrokes across the vault - but we see more than a few stars. They come out shy and dim, but we see them.

May 25th: We report: morning, the sunrise is starting to show colours through the clouds. The leaves are heavy with dew, and rain is fast approaching. The air is already charged with that humid morning smell, but there is definitely rain on top. It feels icy as it goes through our nose.

May 28th: We report: there was fog when we fell asleep last night, and it has not entirely lifted yet in the blue morning. There is a sea in the field. We are squinting at it as though it were the glare of the sun, hoping to see through it. We get mist in our eyelashes for our troubles.

#drawing #illustration #digital art #digital #artists on tumblr #clouds #landscape #sky #reports #stars #night #twilight #dusk #weather #weather report #while this isn't exactly micro-fiction it kind of is exactly micro-fiction am I right? #image description in alt text #today is day 1528 :)

[xximenasblog]

~My Moon~

Ellie Williams x Fem Reader

Summary: Reader's journal entry after Ellie left for revenge.

My Ellie,

Whoever said time heals all wounds is a fucking liar. A few weeks have passed since you left me and it feels like I'm falling into an abyss. I wake up and die more and more every morning that passes. Come back....

Remember I was your sun and you were my moon? Remember how you said we made an eclipse every time we kissed? I just need to feel your lips on mine one more time.

How can I keep going if everything reminds me of you? I swear I can still hear you playing your guitar. I swear I can feel your fingers running through my hair as I lay alone every night. I know I'm going insane, but I'd go to the brink of complete insanity just to remember you. Your scent, your touch, your taste.

My moon. You're not here to guide me anymore. How can I survive in a moonless sky? How can I live in complete darkness? I understand why you left, Ellie. You needed to find your peace...I couldn't stop you.

But tell me how I can keep my heart beating when the sole reason it beats has walked out? How can I not drown in this endless sea when my moon isn't here to guide me back to safety anymore?

Always and Forever,

Your wife

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #tlou #ellie williams angst

[bbnibini]

You, Over the World (Solomon)

So, I wasn't satisfied with the “snow” entry in the 9days of Solomon challenge and always intended to write another fic in the challenge outside of the continuing narrative I was working on, but life had plans and I ran out of time so I dedicate this oneshot to its wonderful organiser @impish-ivy. I switched out “humanity” for “the world” in the repeating dialogues cause it sounded more dramatic lol but this should have been an entry for ‘humanity’.  If the vibes are familiar, I was thinking a lot about Frieren while writing this. :))

“Would you choose the world over me?”

He mutters a yes over the verdant foliage, amongst the spring flowers that bloomed over melted snow. He says it again as he traced the petals with his fingers, his memories simmering in the past—your understanding eyes, smiling and unwavering, as if he were waiting for you to say something else. 

He held his breath,

“Would you choose the world over me?”

…and he says yes again under the shade of an umbrella overlooking the horizon. He squints his eyes against the hot air blowing on his face. The unchanging view he once saw with you became unrecognisable. The sky was blue as always; the summer sun, hot and cruel as he buried his feet under the warm sand—he strained his ears to listen to your stories, but even a whisper of them had been lost in time—the weight of his choice carried away by the thrashing waves. The world over you. “The greater good”. The “logical” choice that even you understood that he had to make. He thinks this over and over until the cicadas had stopped crying, and the punishing heat of the sun hid itself away to welcome a cool, moonless sky. 

With nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, he walks towards the ocean again. Aimlessly, almost dragging his feet, until he heard the currents, the salty air welcoming him as his feet touched the seawater. He hated everything about it, but he couldn't get you it off his mind–he should not even care anymore. He never cared. Everything that carried a piece of you is seafoam dissolving in the tides, and your memories were nothing but a ghost haunting him in the night.

“Would you choose the world over me?”

He was at a loss for words as he remembered the question again when a leaf fell on his face, waking him up from an unplanned nap. He was never the earliest riser. Mornings to him were nothing but extra hours of sleep, but he found himself there again despite the absence of…everything. The busy crowds haggling for bargains—cinnamon and nutmeg and the falling leaves. Your hands were on his face, slapping him gently on his cheeks to rouse him from his slumber. Your voice was admonishing yet sweet.

It's gone too, I suppose. 

He thought to himself as he waited for a flea market in the forgotten park, with nothing but the dents on the pavement and fading paint telling him that it was actually there. Years ago, maybe. Relocated somewhere else. Why didn't he bother to know? He did remember a stall there that he frequented with you. A kind stranger told him they have a whole chain of restaurants now; sold to a big company after the original owner’s passing. The orange leaves crunched beneath him as he left to take another train, waiting for hours on the queue to be seated.

He ordered your favourite.

But it didn't taste anything like it. 

The texture was off. Something was wrong with the taste. It was too hot and too cold at the same time. That couldn't be right, so he tried again and ordered his usual but it tasted even weirder: an amalgamation of textures and flavours that barely paid homage to its humble roots. And he wasn't even much of a gourmet. 

He left, letting his eyes linger on the seated crowd: their blissful faces obviously enjoying their meal. He sighs.

“Would you choose the world over me?”

Everything was grey; the orange and yellows and reds were being buried in the cold drafts. He asks you to close the door, only to be reminded that Cocytus Hall was nothing but ruins now; earth and dust. Rotting foundations and leaking ceilings. Seen better days. 

“Why have you chosen the world over me?”

He didn't know. What should he have answered you? The more time passed, the more it felt as if the hours had gotten slower and slower. His youthful face was a painful reminder of an eternity waiting for him. There was an aching that lingered in his chest that never went away. The view from outside was pure white. A light fog formed on the window as he breathed out and drew faces. He had many thoughts, but most were barely comprehensible, mangling into static noise. He stared into the distance. 

It must be a beautiful day. It was warmer than a usual December, and the view from outside was breathtaking. Didn't he just  make a breakthrough in his research? The Demon Prince and his butler are set to arrive in a day to honour his contributions…or something like that. He wasn't sure. It was a feat that his academic peers envied greatly, for he had yet again proven why he was called “The Wise”. 

.

.

.

.

.

Never “The Heartful.” Not even discerning. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. There, he saw you. 

“Cheer up, Solomon!”

A gloved hand that took his own. There was a question lingering in his mind as you walked through the thick snow. 

“Would you let me choose the world over you?”

He couldn't remember your face. He had imagined the scenes in his head so many times, and it only worsened every cold winter he had to spend on his own.

But he had no choice.

Company was all but warm bodies that didn't seep into his soul. They laced fingers with him and whispered sweet words, but he was a phantom whose presence they couldn't even touch. 

He was barely there or anywhere. See-through and paper-thin; deaf to kindness even in the face of sincerity. He remembered caring more, maybe a century ago, when he could still count the numbers of your fading presence with his fingers. But now…

…he saw you walking away again, so he pulled you back into his arms where you fit perfectly.

Where dreams were his only comfort. Where centuries and aeons felt like minutes ago, and the entire world that remained at your loss had any semblance of meaning. He held your face and pressed your lips on his, hoping all of what he couldn't say would reach you, 

“I wish I didn't.”

…even if it's too late.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #om! shall we date #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me fic

[shinidamachu]

It's absolutely beautiful how there were three very significant moments in Inuyasha's life where he was at his lowest and we could feel the sun like a presence on each of those times because Kagome was there. Starting with when they first met.

After years facing prejudice and leading a lonely existence, Inuyasha let his guard down with someone just long enough to see — what he thought was — them turning against him and sealing him away.

He was dead to the world, frozen in time and his heart was the coldest it has ever been. That's where the sun comes in, because every sunrise means a new awakening and a new chance to begin again.

Its warmth melts away the worse of winter and allows spring to finally come. Without sunlight, there's no light to guide you. There's no life at all. Kagome woke him up and brought him back to life in every possible way.

And even though Inuyasha literally never saw it coming — still oblivious to her arrival — it's clear from the get go the role she's bond to play in his life: his own personal sun, lighting up the darkness of his days.

The second time it happens, Inuyasha was consumed by grief, guilt and the heartbreaking realization that he'd have to let Kagome go, despite it being the last thing he wanted to do.

After he can no longer postpone saying goodbye, Inuyasha walks to the well, feeling miserable under the shadows of the trees, only to find Kagome already there, waiting for him and bathed in sunshine.

I love how he gets blinded by the light because that's what happens when we spend too much time in the darkness: it takes time to get used to something burning that bright. Until Kagome, he was not used to people staying or loving him unconditionally — with the obvious exception being Izayoi.

He then steps into the daylight to get to her and after they work things out, Kagome takes him by the hand and guides him forward. Inuyasha squeezes her hand back and catchs up so they're walking side by side. They're both under the light now and they're moving on.

There were many instances in the series where Kagome's voice or the mere thought of her was enough to snap him out of dark spells and certain death, leading him back to the light, to life.

At last, after three years of darkness, there's the moment when Kagome finally comes back to him, because the sun will always rise again.

In a way, this is what those three scenes are all about: Kagome returning to him again and again. Only the first time it was as the piece of his soul he didn't know was missing, finally finding the way back home.

One of the openings — or was it a closing? — even nodded to the notion of Kagome being his sun: she dissapears and takes all of the light with her, leaving Inuyasha in the dark, alone and lost.

And thinking about Kagome in this context is even more meaningful when we take into account that Inuyasha's literal darkest nights — the moonless ones — are his human nights, because when the morning comes, when the sun comes, he is free to be himself again and regains his lost strength, much like he does in battle when he thinks of her.

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha meta #Inumeta #Inukag #Inukag meta #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #Sidposting

[elena-mayfair]

Things I cannot have

Batman Day Special

Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: somber fluff Summary: In a blissful solitude, away from the noise and distress, away from the struggle and suffering, free from cares and responsibilities, visible to no one. He was happy and he didn't want to hide it. Word count: 1.7K Note: The title picture is from Batman: War on Crime written by Paul Dini and illustrated by Alex Ross

Series masterlist

***

The darkness of night loomed around him, hiding everything in sight under its veil. On the moonless sky only single stars shone and the light of Gotham's quiet streets could not reach the high roof on which he stopped to enjoy the silence of the city immersed in deep sleep. A fleeting moment of rest, a moment of stillness just before dawn, as the night seemed to slowly give way to morning but still did not yield to its light. A passing minute of absolute silence when the hum of the city faded into hush just before the first ray of sun. His moment of solace. A time of meditation. A precious few fleeting minutes when the city was safe and the responsibilities of the day had not yet caught up with him. A time of peace and silence. A time of solitude. A time of deep breathing as he relaxed all his muscles, and freed all his thoughts disappearing into the darkness around him. He became a shadow.

Standing on the roof of the city's tallest building, he closed his eyes as he listened to the Gotham whispers carried on the wind. He listened to the sound of lonely raindrops falling down on his armor. He listened to the peaceful beating of Gotham's heart. He felt at peace. He breathed deeply feeling his nerves relaxing. He quieted his exhausted mind, slowed his heartbeat letting the cares and worries be taken away by the night. He became silence.

In a blissful solitude, away from the noise and distress, away from the struggle and suffering, free from cares and responsibilities, visible to no one. He became the night.

Yet he was not alone.

A gentle woman's hand slipped into his. Once he was alone here. Once he savored the fleeting silence in complete solitude. Now he listened to the sound of her cloak blowing in the wind right next to his, relished in her warmth close to him, eased into her quiet sigh as she rested her head against his chest and cuddled into him. He enveloped her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

"So quiet…" she whispered as if afraid to disturb his silence. He only nodded with a quiet murmur closing his eyes again feeling her arm wrap around him. It was peaceful. Once he would never have thought he could find peace in life.

She didn't say anything. Her quiet breathing gave rhythm to his heart, seeming to meld with the distant Gotham's hum. Her closeness brought solace, filled his stiff body with warmth, and his cold heart with a love he had not known before.

"Penny for your thoughts…"

There was so much he wanted to say to her. So many thoughts to turn into words, so many feelings to turn into actions, he couldn't. In all the languages he knew there were no words that could express how he felt about her. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was looking back. Her shining eyes hidden under the mask gazed at him with love and understanding. They expressed so much. He reached out to gently slide off her head the black hood that hid her smiling face freeing her unruly hair to dance in the wind.

"You are my light…" he whispered and kissed her deeply, "a star in the endless night sky."

"Bruce…" she whispered.

"I am fluent in over twenty languages and in none of them can I find the words to express how much I love you," he embraced her as he swept her off her feet to draw her close and lost himself in her lips, to pour all his love into a kiss. She wrapped her hand around his neck while the other she brought to his cheek, giving herself over to the embrace completely, with each kiss devoting her love to him, with each breath giving him new strength. He loved her. She was his light. He held her close, he held in his arms his entire world. He longed for the moment to last.

"We should head for home…" she whispered against his lips.

"Let's stay a little longer…" he smiled gazing deeply into her eyes.

"Boys are probably up by now. We have to get Damian to school," placing one last gentle kiss she found the ground beneath her feet again, "I'll drive him. You have a board meeting, remember?"

"I remember. I moved it to early afternoon."

"You remember we're going to Jon's game at five? You promised Damian. Besides, I don't want to have to explain us to Lois again."

"We'll make it. We'll take the jet," he smirked.

"Show off," she smirked back.

"Let's go home. Shower, I'll finish the report, you take Damian to school and if nothing happens we'll catch a few hours of sleep."

"At seven-thirty, I want to see you in bed."

"Only if you will be there," he kissed her again, "ready?"

"Always."

He observed her while fear crept into his heart when, without waiting for him, she jumped lightly off the roof to soar into the night. Her cape flew in the darkness disappearing quickly in the distance. He followed after her. The cold wind reawakened his senses as he glided between the buildings, as he watched her launch her grappling hook time and again toward the rooftops to rise above the streets. She didn't have to. She could fly and yet she chose to rise and fall like him. He gained speed and reduced the distance between them. In the darkness of the night, the silver raven wings on her chest glimmered. She chose to wear the symbol of the bird, just like them. She looked at him and from under the cover of her hood he was able to see her radiant smile. He smiled back at her, only she and the silent Gotham were able to see the sincere smile on his face. He was happy and he didn't want to hide it. Not from her. Not from his light.

"I used to wonder what it would be like to have it all. Family. Home. Nothing to hide…"

He watched as a barely discernible blur of pale blue mist spread around her granting lightness to her movements. How it lifted her higher than a line could, how it sent her farther than momentum could, how it made her disappear into the darkness of night. She soared and fell above the city streets, each time moving farther and farther away from him.

"Stay…"

He tried to keep up with her but her power carried her away from his sight. He rose and fell and with each passing moment, the darkness around him seemed to thicken. An implacable blackness in which there was no light, in which fear seemed to pour into his mind and heart stifling his happiness, taking away the warmth she gave him, filling him with cold reason.

"Where are you?"

She disappeared. He stopped on one of the rooftops and looked around cautiously. She was gone. He called her on the intercom but only silence answered him.

"Please no…"

Fear took over him completely. Cold, paralyzing dread. He brought up her signal on the Gotham map displayed on his gauntlet. She was close but he couldn't see her. She was nearby but he couldn't hear her. He was alone in the darkness.

"Where are you?"

A gunshot echoed from afar as his heart froze. He jumped down from the building to follow it. In the narrow alley, he could distinctly smell gunpowder. In the dim light of the street lamp, he could clearly see the bullet shells scattered on the ground. He called out her name but she did not answer. Fear quickened his steps, accelerated his heartbeat as he turned into a back alley hidden away from the light.

"Y/N?"

She was there. Low against the ground. Hunched over. Almost invisible in the gloom. His heart seemed to tear out of his chest as he rushed towards her with a heavy step to grab her by the arm and turn her to face him.

"He tried to rob some girl," she glanced at him while holding the unconscious man to the ground with her knee and tying his hands together, "she ran away."

He merely grabbed her, gently lifted her to her feet, and pulled her close. In his arms she was safe, his light had not faded.

"Don't ever do that again…"

"Do what? My job?"

"Don't leave…"

"My heart, I'm not going anywhere."

*

Bruce opened his heavy eyes trying to catch a grasp on reality again. The dreamy images seemed to still linger clearly as he disorientedly struggled to pull himself back to reality.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred's hand shook him gently, "Master Bruce are you alright?"

"Alfred…" his heart pounded in his chest, "yes, I must have drifted off," he muttered sitting up straight in his chair and focusing his eyes on the computer screen.

"You were dreaming, sir. This is quite unlike you."

"Indeed it is," he rubbed his tired eyes trying to chase away the dream, "could I trouble you for a cup of strong coffee?"

"Right away, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Master Bruce?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"What were you dreaming of if I may ask?"

"It does not matter…" he sighed heavily.

"If you say so, sir."

The images lingered. Still clear in his mind, still filling him with warmth as they seemed clearer than the reality around him. Hopeful, they brought a faint smile to his face.

"I was dreaming about things I cannot have."

***

~~***~~ Author note: Happy Batman Day my dear readers!

~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection @ooldcardigan

#batman #batman day #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #batman x y/n #batman imagine #batman fanfiction #batfamily #batman x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #dc comics #bruce wayne fanfiction

[indouloureux]

Could you write something about how it’d be like waking up next to Joe? I saw some gifs of that scene in Make Up where he’s waking up and squinting at the sun and it just made my heart sink. Thank you!

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(prequel to honey baby) (bc i said so) (also thank you for requesting this ily this was fun to write) ❤️

— kind of a gender neutral reader

early mornings are hellacious.

it's a sentiment of a realization that you're going to start another day of trying to figure out the future, dwelling in the crisp trepidation and worry yourself with self doubt. the blaring sun greets you with a too optimistic gleam, you think, trying to add such euphonious hope on the falling world that you live on.

— a feeling that you'd been choking on for as long as you could remember. until you met him.

the timidity to what's imminent is replaced with excitement knowing that when you open your eyes, you're greeted by his resting face. although in moonless nights do you brood on the thought that one day, you'd blink and he's gone. but he's not, and he's here. in front of you, chest bare and warm with deep slumber and the soft comforter wrapped around your tangled limbs.

seeing him everyday feels like a grace dignified into your arms. the love you both share in this small bed is of tumultuous finesse, and suddenly your problems are nothing but a speck of dust hidden in your bedroom.

you rid the sleep off your eyes in slow blinks, his face coming in to vision from vague to clear. an amicable sleep glow covers his face, clear of worry lines and instead a faint ghost of a smile is stretched on his lips; it probably has been in there since last night.

he's got a hand beneath your neck, the other heavy on your waist as he snores quietly. you rub your eye, trying your best to yawn quietly as you could to not wake him up. but when the sun has risen higher, it blinds him through his closed eyes and joseph opens his eyes.

the hands beneath your head come up to brush the bedhead of curls off his forehead, squinting at the brightness before his eyes had finally adjusted and settled on you. joseph's frown is replaced by a smile — your sun in the grey sky. your umbrella in the rainstorm, your coat in the snowfall; his smile a comfort to your mending soul.

but his eyes close again, and you roll your eyes. "jo," you whisper. "wake up."

"mm mm," he makes a disagreeing sound, hiding his face on his arm. you laugh ruggedly and push on his forehead slightly to show his face, and joseph opens only a single eye. "no."

"hello,"

"g'morning," he rasps, voice deep and tired despite the long hours of sleep. joseph yawns, does you a favor and hides it behind his mouth before it falls back on your bare waist. "you sleep well?"

"slept amazing, babe," you lean closer, brushing your nose against his in an indirect but soft kiss. "you?"

"oh, i slept perfectly," he kisses your nose, smiling at you. "was so tired, lovie. after last night. but i slept perfectly."

you don't say anything back, instead you decide to kiss him. mouths hot on each other, soft exhales of ataraxy on the bed that you call your sanctuary. while your hand comes to rest on his face, hands on the ticklish stubble, his repose fingers trace the curves of your waist in a solicitous act; lips soft and wet, hungry but gentle in the early morning.

breaking away in the soft gentle sound of a click, joseph rubs his forehead with yours, whispering his words of utter devotion against your lips until he steals another, and then another.

early mornings are hellacious heavenly.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #blurb #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

[talonabraxas]

The Sky This Week from May 31 to June 7: A Jupiter-Mercury conjunction

The parade of planets starts as two worlds come close and the Moon moves on down the line in the sky this week.

Friday, May 31 Although the Leo Trio of galaxies gets quite a lot of fame, these aren’t the only deep-sky objects to chase down within the Lion. With no Moon in the sky after sunset tonight, consider hunting down another of this constellation’s galactic gems: NGC 2903. In fact, many skywatchers wonder how Messier could have missed this gorgeous spiral, whose brightness is on par with other galaxies the Frenchman did spot in Leo.

NGC 2903 sits just below the big cat’s “chin.” To find it, first look west an hour after sunset, where Leo is slowly making its way down toward the horizon, now 50° high. You’ll easily spot the constellation’s alpha star, magnitude 1.4 Regulus, as one of the brighter suns in this region of sky.

From Regulus, see if you can find the rest of the Sickle asterism, which looks like a backwards question mark in the sky. The Sickle’s blade ends at 3rd-magnitude Epsilon (ϵ) Leonis; from this star, scan 3.3° west to land on 4th-magnitude Lambda (λ) Leo. And from there, simply drop 1.5° south to view magnitude 8.9 NGC 2903.

This spiral galaxy is roughly twice as long as it is wide, stretching about 12.6′ on its long axis. It is considered one of the finest NGC objects, and a medium-sized telescope (4 inches or so) will begin to resolve its brighter nucleus and fainter halo into distinct regions.

Sunrise: 5:34 A.M. Sunset: 8:22 P.M. Moonrise: 2:06 A.M. Moonset: 1:52 P.M. Moon Phase: Waning crescent (39%)

*Times for sunrise, sunset, moonrise, and moonset are given in local time from 40° N 90° W. The Moon’s illumination is given at 12 P.M. local time from the same location.

Saturday, June 1 June opens with a gorgeous dark evening sky that might allow you to catch a glimpse of noctilucent clouds floating high above the northern horizon. These stunning, reflective clouds are unique in that they are composed of ice crystals that condense largely on high-up dust particles left behind as meteorites streak into the atmosphere.

Noctilucent clouds form in the mesosphere, some 60 miles (100 kilometers) above the ground. Because they are so high up, they can remain in sunlight long after the Sun has gone down for those on the ground, thanks to the curvature of Earth. Thus, these clouds can appear to shine high in the sky even in the dark of night, while lower, “normal” clouds are dark blots without illumination.

There’s no special equipment needed to view noctilucent clouds, just a little luck and some patience. Step outside an hour or two after darkness falls and turn your gaze north. Note that even though they’re high in the atmosphere, these clouds may be low on your northern horizon depending on your latitude, so try to get to a viewing site where that direction is clear of both obstacles and artificial lights. Look for wispy, silvery clouds that appear lit up rather than dark or dusty. Like the aurora, noctilucent clouds can come and go, and displays may ramp up slowly — but hopefully the mild weather and moonless skies will allow for some additional stargazing even if no night-shining clouds appear!

Sunrise: 5:33 A.M. Sunset: 8:23 P.M. Moonrise: 2:30 A.M. Moonset: 3:05 P.M. Moon Phase: Waning crescent (28%)

Sunday, June 2 The Moon reaches perigee, the closest point to Earth in its orbit, at 3:16 A.M. EDT. At that time, our satellite will be 228,728 miles (368,102 km) away.

The Moon then passes 2° north of Mars at 8 P.M. EDT. Both are visible in the morning as part of the line of planets now shining in the pre-dawn sky. So, step outside early this morning about an hour before sunrise to find Mars and the Moon both in Pisces, standing 15° high at that time in the east.

The waning Moon lies west of Mars early this morning, sitting to the Red Planet’s upper right in the sky. By tomorrow morning at the same time, the Moon will be an even thinner crescent to the east of Mars, having moved to its lower left.

An hour before dawn, three planets in the six-world lineup are already visible. Mars and Saturn are both 1st magnitude, with Saturn far to Mars’ upper right (west) in Aquarius, nearly 30° high at this time. Neptune lies between them in Pisces, about 5.5° below magnitude 4.5 Lambda Piscium. The distant ice giant is magnitude 7.8 and requires binoculars or a telescope to spot.

Wait 30 more minutes, and Uranus (magnitude 5.8 — again, requiring optical aid) and Mercury (magnitude –1) have risen, with Uranus some 4.5° high and Mercury just 1.5° high. Magnitude –2 Jupiter is just rising at that time, and will need a bit longer to climb above the horizon. See if you can catch it just before sunrise, though be careful to look away and stop using binoculars or a telescope several minutes before the Sun rises from your location, which may differ from the time given below.

This lineup of planets will feature throughout the week, especially as the Moon passes through the line and Mercury and Jupiter meet in a close conjunction in just two days. Stay tuned!

Sunrise: 5:33 A.M. Sunset: 8:24 P.M. Moonrise: 2:54 A.M. Moonset: 4:18 P.M. Moon Phase: Waning crescent (18%)

Monday, June 3 Asteroid 2 Pallas is currently moving through Corona Borealis, now within the constellation’s southeastern border. Tonight, the 9th-magnitude asteroid sits just 20′ from a magnitude 6.5 field star, but there’s actually a much easier way to find it.

Because of its location and the rotation of Earth, you can let nature do the work for you. Center your telescope on magnitude 4.1 Epsilon Coronae Borealis and simply lock it in place without tracking, so the sky appears to drift past. Within 20 minutes, Pallas will be in the center of the field!

Corona Borealis has been recently making headlines for a different star: T CrB, a star just 1° southeast of Epsilon. Normally magnitude 10 and requiring the aid of binoculars or a telescope to see, T CrB is expected to suddenly and briefly flare sometime in the next few months, reaching a naked-eye magnitude of roughly 2. Tonight, Pallas is nearly 3.5° east-northeast of T CrB; it will close in on the variable over the next few weeks and pass within ¼° of the star later this month.

Sunrise: 5:33 A.M. Sunset: 8:24 P.M. Moonrise: 3:21 A.M. Moonset: 5:34 P.M. Moon Phase: Waning crescent (10%)

Tuesday, June 4 Let’s hop back to that parade of planets early this morning to check out a close conjunction as Mercury passes 0.1° south of Jupiter at 6 A.M. EDT.

At that time, sunrise has already reached the East Coast, while the two planets are just rising in the Midwest. Mercury lies just to the lower right of Jupiter and binoculars or a telescope will show both within the same field of view. No matter your time zone, you can catch the pair about 20 minutes before local sunrise, when they are some 2° to 3° high. It’s definitely a challenging view, but a rewarding one. Note that Mercury will continue sliding east over time, so those in time zones farther west may see Mercury directly below or even to the lower left of Jupiter in the sky.

They’re a stunning contrast — the solar system’s smallest and largest planet, together in one view! Mercury spans some 5″ and appears nearly 90 percent lit. Nearby, Jupiter is more than six times as wide at 33″ and is fully illuminated by the Sun. Its four Galilean moons are on display, though they will be hard to make out in the growing twilight. In the eastern half of the U.S., Europa is just finishing a transit across the disk, slipping off just 10 minutes before sunrise in the Midwest, so take care if you’re trying to follow the event. After that, Europa lies closest to the planet to the west, with Callisto farther west. Io lies closest to Jupiter on the east, and Ganymede sits farther east.

Moving down the line of planets, the Moon passes 4° north of Uranus at 9 P.M. EDT tonight.

And earlier in the day, Venus reaches superior conjunction at noon EDT, which is why it’s currently invisible in the bright glare of our star.

Sunrise: 5:32 A.M. Sunset: 8:25 P.M. Moonrise: 3:51 A.M. Moonset: 6:50 P.M. Moon Phase: Waning crescent (4%)

Wednesday, June 5 The Moon now passes 5° north of Jupiter at 10 A.M. EDT. The slim crescent will be a real challenge to observe, although according to longtime Astronomy contributor Stephen James O’Meara, there are some unique and beautiful effects to be seen if you can manage it.

See if you can catch the nearly New Moon in the sky shortly before dawn. If you do, you might experience the lunar blackdrop effect, which can cast dark stripes on the last illuminated bits of the lunar crescent. These stripes aren’t real, but are instead an illusion caused by both the diffraction of sunlight and the turbulence of our atmosphere, through which we are viewing the Moon (and all other celestial objects). In fact, you might notice these stripes dance, waver, or disappear and reappear if you’re able to follow the slim crescent over time. The more turbulent the atmosphere — and the poorer your local seeing — the more likely you are to see the stripes.

Particularly intrepid observers can try to catch this effect again tomorrow morning, just hours before the Moon finally reaches its New phase.

Sunrise: 5:32 A.M. Sunset: 8:26 P.M. Moonrise: 4:26 A.M. Moonset: 8:05 P.M. Moon Phase: Waning crescent (1%)

Thursday, June 6 New Moon occurs at 8:38 A.M. EDT this morning, leaving our sky dark, moonless, and perfect for deep-sky observers.

Longtime observers know that although the images of galaxies and nebulae we see are often stunningly multicolored, most objects don’t show off vivid hues through the eyepiece when visually observing. But some do, and one of these is NGC 7662, also called the Blue Snowball and the brightest planetary nebula in the constellation Andromeda.

You’ll want to catch this object in the early-morning sky, after around 3:30 A.M. local daylight time, when Andromeda has risen well above the eastern horizon. The Blue Snowball is located in the western portion of the constellation, just under 2.5° west-southwest of magnitude 4.3 Iota (ι) Andromedae. The nebula itself is magnitude 8.3 and roughly 30″ across; it’s easy to capture in most instruments. Smaller scopes will show a small, grayish smudge. But you’ll want a larger scope to pull out its deep blue color — something in the 8- to 10-inch or larger range is a good start, but bigger is better! Make sure to use high magnification as well for the best chances at a glimpse of its beautiful blue hue.

Sunrise: 5:32 A.M. Sunset: 8:26 P.M. Moonrise: 5:11 A.M. Moonset: 9:15 P.M. Moon Phase: New

Friday, June 7 Tonight offers the first of several chances in the coming days to catch Comet 13P/Olbers near NGC 2281, a 5th-magnitude open cluster in Auriga the Charioteer.

You’ll need to be quick, though, as the constellation is setting in the west just behind the Sun. An hour to an hour and a half after sunset, you’ll want your telescope trained on eastern Auriga, just to the lower right of the bright stars Castor and Pollux in Gemini. Tonight, Olbers lies some 5.7° north-northwest of magnitude 3.6 Theta (θ) Geminorum and just 2.2° southwest of NGC 2281. The comet is currently around 8th magnitude, so a few magnitudes fainter than the open cluster but still bright enough to pick up in relatively small scopes as long as the atmosphere is clear and calm. An observing site that is slightly elevated above its surroundings and with a clear western horizon will help, too.

Discovered by William Herschel in 1788, NGC 2281 is a loose collection of young stars spanning about ¼°. Astronomers estimate the cluster is some 435 million years old. It is among many open clusters in Auriga, including the three Messier objects M36, M37, and M38. Of these, M37 is believed to be closest to NGC 2281 in age, based on the clusters’ rotational rates.

Sunrise: 5:31 A.M. Sunset: 827 P.M. Moonrise: 6:04 A.M. Moonset: 10:15 P.M. Moon Phase: Waxing crescent (2%)

The Sethian Gnosis by talon Abraxas

[revasserium]

the art of losing (and then, again, being found)

oikawa; 2,208 words; fluff and fluff and straight till morning -- also fulfilling my peter pan au for the 31 days of aus; dedicated to @fuckinglevi

for as long as the world can remember, there has always been a peter — a running away kind of boy — and there has always been a wendy — a learning to fly kind of girl.

for as long as he can remember, oikawa has always been lost. he’s just never been fussed about the losing bit. because you see, for as long as he can remember, there’s always been the second star to the right, the brightest on the horizon, and if he’s got that, then at least he always knows where he is — physically, he means. so he can’t be that lost, right? even if he is the head of the lost boys, and it’s kind of their thing to be — well… lost.

he meets you on a balcony at dusk, right after sunset, when the sky is still light enough to see, but dark enough for the first glimmer of stars. he meets you in the midst of your last, lingering daydreams, and it was this that drew him to you, inexplicably, irrevocably. it was gravity and dusk and the sinking sun. it was truth and wandering and knowing you’re the one.

“you look like you’re thinking about something real serious,” he says. to which you yelp and nearly stumble off your feet. you clutch at your metaphorical pearls and slate a glare at him the way you’d seen your momma do at passersby when they jeer or say something unsightly.

“you scared me!”

oikawa cocks his head, “mah — you don’t seem all that scare-able but… i might be wrong.” his grin is sly and catlike and you can’t help but blush.

“i — i’m not scared!” you puff out your chest and let yourself take him in — him and his wind-swept hair and sky-kissed cheeks, the dulcet light of fading day draped across his shoulders like a lingering promise.

“good! then you’ll do just fine,” oikawa says, jerking his chin towards the darkening sky with a toothy grin.

“f-fine for what?” you ask.

oikawa sighs a soul-shaking sigh, “for getting lost, of course!”

you frown, “for… getting lost?”

“yeah! c’mon — it’s easy — here, i’ll help you up —” he holds out his hand, crouching on the wide white banisters of your second floor bedroom, the small terrace overlooking your family gardens. you lick your lips and peer over the edge. it seems like an awful long way to fall, if you were to fall that is.

“but… what if…” you crease your brows and bite your lips.

“i won’t let you fall. c’mon — i promise.”

you look up, and your eyes catch on the crescent moon curve of oikawa’s smile. behind him, the sky is a velvet skein, studded with so many gem-like stars. you want to run your fingers over them, wonder if they’d catch beneath your palms like the tiny pearls on your momma’s favorite black dress —

“okay then.” you say, reaching up to take his hand.

he smiles, something sweet, something real — and pulls you up beside him.

that was three, or four, or maybe even five years ago. and since then, you’d learned so much from him, met all his lost boys, been to the edge of the earth and over it — to neverland and then back again.

you’d met the marveling mermaids, the nebulous tree-nymphs, the flamingo-dotted lagoons, and the treacherous trails that leads up to the ever-rushing waterfall, where legend says that the first ever lost boy and the first ever lost girl had held hands and jumped —

“ — and they were never seen again…” oikawa says, the campfire casting brilliant orange shadows dancing across the planes of his laughing face.

you laugh, rolling your eyes as you lay back on the soft grasses and cast your eyes up at the sea of never-ending stars.

a few minutes later, you feel a body settle in the grass next to you. and you don’t have to look over to know who it is. by now, you know oikawa by mere presence, by the way his body cuts through the air, by the pattern of his breaths, by the way his laughter rings against a moonless night.

“do you ever miss it?” you ask, not looking at him.

“miss what?” he asks, and his voice is light and playful, though you can feel him go still.

something — something holds him still, even when he wants to sway with the tall grasses and sing with the stars. he stays, his eyes fixed on you.

“home,” you say.

oikawa licks his lips and casts his eyes up. he inches closers to you, close enough for his leg to brush against yours. he doesn’t answer.

because how is he to tell you that he’d long since forgotten what his home had looked like? he knows he must have had one — all the lost boys do. but isn’t it their job, then, to be lost as they are. isn’t it part of who they are to be here and there and nowhere, all at once?

how’s he to tell you that ever since the day he met you — you were the only place that’d ever felt like home?

that not even this vast neverland could ever replace you?

“i…” his lips are dry and his throat is drier. he swallows hard and looks for the second star to the right and straight on till morning and —

he shakes his head, and thinks he oughta try something different.

“do… do you ever miss… home?”

you laugh, pillowing your head on your interlocked hands. and it’d be a lie for him to say that he hadn’t noticed the change in you (and the changes in himself), the way that your round, girlish cheeks had slimmed, the way his own childish jaw had hardened, had lengthened in the days and months and… had it really been years? since he’d known you?

“sometimes… the things i can remember of it, that is,” you say.

oikawa bites back a wince. because of course — of course, you’d still remember those wide, white banisters, and that beautiful rose-filled garden. of course you’d still remember the lace-trimmed curtains that had hung over your huge french windows. of course, he couldn’t expect you to forget your darling mother and your darling father and your darling, ever-so-darling life — the one that you’d left behind.

but… he’d be remiss to say that he hadn’t at least hoped.

“come with me,” you say, turning your smile at him, and he reacts too late. he knows he is helpless against it — your smile.

your smile, your smile — your smile.

the sunlight and moonlight and distilled-down starlight of it all.

he could get drunk on it — even if he’d never really know what that word had meant in the first place, he thinks — he knows. it must be something like this. something like the dizziness that fills him nearly to the brim, the weightlessness of the world, even when he’s sitting perfectly still.

“i — i can’t.” he looks down at his interlaced fingers.

“why not?”

“i’m — i’m a lost boy,” its a weak stab at his usual bravado. he knows, and yet…

you slate him a dubious glance.

“well… you found me, didn’t you?”

he gapes. he has no good answer. because you’re right — he had found you. but… hadn’t that been his job? to find you and then to lead you… but to lead you what? astray? he didn’t like to think of himself as someone who leads people astray but… isn’t that what lost-people are?

“you… i…” oikawa stutters, frowning as he tries to piece together his thoughts .

you sit up, stretching your fingers towards the endless stars of the milky way, cast about the sky like so many careless, thoughtless points of light.

“come with me. you’ll be alright… and if you ever wanted to come back here… you’ll be able to find it again.”

oikawa shakes his head, “no… neverland isn’t for those who have been found… it’s —”

you sigh, rolling your eyes, “only for the lost boys and girls and ones who never grow up… yes, yes, i know… but…” you chew on your lips and twist your fingers, “what if… what if i wanna grow up? but i wanna still be your friend too? what then?”

oikawa feels his breath catch in his chest, like a sailor on the first notes of a siren’s deadly song.

“t-then… i guess you have to choose…” but even he can tell that there’s no conviction there, that doubt has already seeped the cracks and crevices of his wandering heart.

you heave a deep sigh and knit your arms, “well, that seems like a raw deal to me!”

oikawa blinks, startled at the hardness to your voice. and then, he starts to laugh, a bright, orange peels and sunrise kind of sound, a light, owl-feathers and starlight kind of sound. he laughs and laughs, and eventually, all his lost boys are laughing with him, holding their bellies and rolling on the soft, tall, flamingo-grazed grasses.

“i-it’s not funny!” you insist, your cheeks burning as you watch them all, rolling around in laughter, great, sharp peels of it echoing towards and eternally lightening horizon.

“b-but it is! a-and you’re right!” oikawa finally wipes at his eyes, still grinning wide as he straightens up again, dusting his clothes of the stray bits of grass, “i think it’s time for me to take you home.”

he reaches out a hand and for the first time in forever, you hesitate.

how many times had you reached out to take his hand? how many times had he held you strong and fast — just like the first time he’d taught you how to fly.

“c’mon… trust me.”

you smile, and you take his hand.

later — much later — when walking the moonlit paths of your very own rose garden in your very own home, you’d wonder about the miraculous days you’d spent in neverland. about how surreal they seemed, even now, like the frames of a long-forgotten dream.

“darling, what are you thinking about?” oikawa smiles as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and loops his arms around your waist. his voice is sweet and light and husky as the dusk, settling over the far horizon.

“nothing… just… wondering…”

“about what?”

you let your head fall onto his shoulder, letting your gaze trail upwards towards the first of the flickering stars.

“about… the flamingos. and the mermaid lagoon.”

“oh, i’m sure they’re being well taken care of,” his voice is rich and full of laughter, even as he spins you round to brush his lips against yours, his eyes are the color of glowing amber, sharp and hard and everlasting, “i left very specific instructions to iwa, you know.”

you roll your eyes, “i know, but…”

“ah, ah — no but’s — except maybe this one —”

you squeak as his grin twists lascivious and his hands wander south.

“darling!” you collapse into oikawa’s chest, laughing as he swings you around, dipping you low to capture your lips, kissing you sweet, kissing you full, kissing you till your breath is nothing more than a hummingbird-yearning in the center of your chest.

“yes?”

you licks your lips, your cheeks warm, “do you… ever miss it?”

“what? neverland?”

you shrug, casting your eyes up towards the now star-strewn sky.

“i suppose sometimes… it’s hard not to, isn’t it? but…” he grins again, tugging you to him as he stars to hum and your steps fall in line with his, the pair of you swaying in the light of the shy, waning moon, beneath the silver-kissed hems of silken clouds.

“but… what?” you ask, pressing your cheek to his broad chest, counting the steady badump-badump of his very solid heart.

oikawa wraps his arms around you and holds you tight.

“you found me… didn’t you?”

you smile; you nod; you keep on dancing in your moonlit garden.

“do you regret it?” you ask, after a long, long while.

oikawa scoffs, “do you?”

“do i what?” you look up.

“do you regret it? being found?”

you lick your lips as you consider his question.

“no,” you say, “not one bit… because i got to get lost with you.”

“then… there’s your answer,” he says, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours.

and far, far above you, the second star to the right flickers and winks and shines, acting as a guide for all those who are lost, and all those still in the process of being found — it shines and it shines, bright and bright and bright.

the second from the right, and straight on till morning light, right on to a promised ever — neverland.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru fluff #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa tooru imagines #haikyuu fluff #oikawa tooru scenarios #oikawa tooru fanfic #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu drabbles #haiCUTIES #floofy floof floof #31 days of aus #I DID IT LOOK I ACTUALY FUCKING DID IT #IDK IF IT MAKES ANY SENSE BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #SLDKFJAOEISDHGALSDKFJAWIODJ

[sourcreammachine]

gods i need more time

i wanna sleep in and wake up slowly, i wanna dawdle while living the mornings, i wanna love the world as i welcome the new day. i want my time under the sun to feel long and worthwhile, i wanna feel like i’ve accomplished something, and i want time in the day away from meaningfulness to take stock and be real, and i want to slow down and love the twilight, and the dusk, and the night

i need the week to hug me like an old friend. i need it to take me through its middle like the adventure will never end. i need to feel its twilight era shine as we know its end approaches, and dance in its dusk. and when the weekend begins, i need the joy of the dark, the glow of the fire, and the embrace of sleep at the slowest edge of the rhythm, making me feel ready for the next verse

i need the months to feel neverending. i need the moon in the sky to shine forever as we dance and dance at the fire of the tide, like we were frozen, kept forever in time like those happy actors in a photograph. i need the old moon to take its lazy time, to let the weeks tick on as he falls asleep in his chair. i need the weeks to sing as only weeks can as the moonless sky leaves us adrift in time, the orchestra of stars with no conductor playing us the anthem of the seasons, pointing us back at the fires that were and forward at the fires to come. and as they come, as the grandfather moon returns to his world, we know our place in time

i need the years to be mountains. they need to be impossible. they need to be special. grandfather moon leads us from tide to tide as we grip his hand as they line up one by one. one to the next and to the next and to the next. we are never alone, we are never scared. the eternal sun rises and the eternal sun falls, as it will do until the end of this world. the months whirl as a tapestry of time as the sun rises, crawls to the summit, and slows, and falls, and kisses us goodnight after a long, long, long long day. the dance of the moon and sun keeps the fire stoked. when she carries us to bed after an eon of dance, we are complete, after an eternal year, a forever in a bottle

#196

[dragonrider9905]

The Price You Pay

Haaaaaaaaaaappppyyyyy Birthday @photogirl894 Morgan!!!!!!!! I hope you have a great day filled with many blessings and much happiness!!!!! I made this little drabble for you for your birthday, which I know I'm a little early in posting but I couldn't wait :) I hope you enjoy it <3 I've loved talking to you and getting to know you the last few months. Thanks for being a great friend, bestie!!!! ❤️🤗 Hope you enjoy the show.😎 You have that fun drabble we had about TBB being fantasy characters and actually @lizartgurl to thank for this. Lizartgurl has an AMAZING medieval au, go check it out. Mine pales in comparison.

The wind’s icy hands of early fall ripped down your throat and sent its chilling fingers across all the avenues of your lungs, causing a frozen burn in your chest. It slapped your face and nipped at your nose, hands and feet as you ran. 

But that didn’t matter. 

You had to keep running. 

Breathing was getting increasingly difficult as your heaves were not getting enough air in fast enough, and what you did get, felt like a knife was being shoved in your chest. Your feet were tangling, catching on thorny bushes, blood blossoming from the open wounds left behind. You barely felt them over the pounding of your heart. 

That also didn’t matter. 

You had to get away.

They were getting close. They were gaining on you! The sound of the horses neigh and the gallops surrounded you, closing in and echoing in the distance. 

Typically, you’d stay home on a moonless night like tonight, but tonight, the mist that shrouded the area was your friend. It cloaked you from danger, yet also made it difficult for you to see the forest floor. Luckily, you knew these woods like the back of your hand. The paths and trails (some of which you made yourself) could be trekked blindfolded if you had to, but not making any noise equal with swiftness increased in difficulty. 

You stopped momentarily, panting heavily to catch your breath, leaning against a neighboring tree to look around for the best route.

How did they find out? Or were you just being paranoid? No, they were definitely after you. 

Eyes darting in all directions, you sprinted into the unknown arms of the night again, only to run full force into something…or rather, someone. The bulk of the man’s chest sent you flying backward onto the ground. 

Your body crumpled against the dirt, defeated. You couldn’t find it in yourself to get up. You’d been found out. Caught. A dull soreness settled into your bones and your muscles cramped and pinched. A sigh escaped your mouth as you looked up to see who your captor was. 

The blacksmith. 

Your mind reeled back to when you first met. 

The chill of early spring blooming from the gentle winter nipped at your nose in a pleasant way. The snow was melting, soaking the soil to hopeful green fields and crops. You bounded home, a skip to your step and a happiness to your beat. The sun was shining brilliant reflections of yellow and gold which bounced off the tops of the village roofs in a colorful array of reflections. 

The town was bustling and you couldn’t help but sing a happy song along with the birds that welcomed the morning, pleased to hear their pretty voices again. It was a busy day today. The baker was out with his tray, like always. The butcher preparing fresh meats for purchase. Children laughing and playing tag in the town square. 

A very familiar and welcome sight, it was. 

You knew everyone and everything that went on in town. It was the smart thing to do if you wanted to stay one step ahead. Everything was in its place and everyone was doing their thing. You could never say life was dull in Ord Mantell. Quite the opposite. It was rather an exciting, and well, dangerous place to live. 

Definitely the place to go if you want to disappear. 

Reputable enough to live, seedy enough to live with a fake reputation and no one asked questions. People were nice enough, but true kindness was a downlow. Favor for favor was the rule, except for you. You probably should play that game too, but you didn’t have it in your heart to. You were just too generous and kind. 

But being generous and kind didn’t mean you didn’t have your secrets. 

It just meant you could only be so fake. Your name might be false but you could still be taken at face value.

Some parts of town, a person doesn’t go in lest they never come out. Some parts were completely safe such as in the hoity toity part of town. Then the rest was a solid mix of thieves living honest lives and honest men doing thievery. 

New faces came every day to trade or pass through. You knew the look of a newcomer who was soon a goner or a passer-through. So you could still say with all honesty…you still knew everyone’s face and their business in town, and there were in fact ‘no new faces’. The key was, none that stayed that was. 

That is what made today so different. 

There was a newcomer—who wanted to stay. 

Little did you know how much this day would affect the rest of your life. Later you would wonder if you had cause to bless or curse that day, but as of now, you had yet to see. 

Swinging your basket purposefully with rhythm humming your song, you jolted to a stop at the sight before you. 

A man, rugged with long, dark hair, face half inked in a skull tattoo turned from the man in front of him toward you. Nose was hooked and eyes were sharp like a hawk. Jaw was set and calculating, cold. Hyperfocsed on the world around him…and the sweet child before him, making sure she was safe and out of trouble. You knew the look well. 

She had to be his daughter, you thought. She had the same eyes as him, and perhaps smile if he ever would. Her hair was blond and bounced in sweet, short curls. The image of an angel.

You wondered about the mother, where she was, if she was coming soon or perhaps that’s why they were here to get away. Anything was possible in this place. 

She seemed happy but not unaware of the world around her. She looked about excitedly but minded her ‘father’ well when he’d comment. 

You locked eyes with the man, an unfamiliar chill going through your bones. His face was unreadable, searching yours. The two of you were locked in a silent, tense cord of something you couldn’t name. It wasn’t terror and it wasn’t attraction (though he was attractive). You weren’t afraid of the man—you’d known what true fear was. Let’s just call it caution. Caution was always advisable. 

Was he dangerous? Perhaps that was something you should find out. You suspected he could be if he wanted to, yet there was something to his demeanor that you liked, you trusted, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. Why was this man so different? You’d never felt this curious sense about anyone else before. You had good intuition but was it your intuition speaking or something else? 

Like fate…destiny…

The spell broke when the man he was talking to (who you knew to be the neighboring carpenter) called you over. 

“Come here and meet the new neighbors!”

You approached with a plastered smile and noticed the man tense slightly. 

“Hello! Welcome to Ord Mantell, truely. I know it isn’t much of a place, but it’s home, and I hope you find it to be as well.”

“The name is Hunter.” he grunted, shaking your hand then indicated the child, ‘and this is Omega.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and she smiled up at him then to you. He grinned down at her and you suspected she might be the only reason for him to smile. 

“He’s going to be our new blacksmith! Isn’t that wonderful!” 

“It is!” You exclaimed, “I know business will go well for you here. Well chosen trade. Will you take up the old smithery?”

“I was just showing it to him. What do you think, good sir?”

Hunter considered for a moment. 

“I’ll take it but I also want the house outside of town. I think it would be a better place for Omega.”

The carpenter laughed. 

“Quite agreed. The place will need a little work but it is suitable for the two of you. Word of the wise, fix the locks first before all else. Nothing you do will be any good if it’s stolen…or you’re dead.”

“Well noted.”

“Well, Hunter, Omega,” you smiled again, this time as genuinely as possible, “if you need anything at all, let me know. I’d be more than happy to lend a hand or help out if I can. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Another thing,” the carpenter broke in, “this is a literal angel. Trust no one in town but her. If she says she wants to help, she means it. So take her up on her offer. You’d be wise to get to know her. She’ll keep you out of trouble.”

You laughed softly and shook your head with an eye roll.

“A little dramatic, but thank you. I try.” You felt your face burn up and a shyness threatened to squeeze your throat. “I, uh, should go. Mrs. Pott’s kid is sick again. I promised to bring her some things. Bye now, and welcome.” You strode away with a subdued but still happy gait. 

The encounter was short, ‘normal’ and the strangest thing ever. They seemed normal but everything in the short minutes screamed secrecy. 

You would know. 

But how could a man with a girl as sweet as that be so terrible?

Omega waved you off happily, but before you were out of earshot you heard a “she seems really nice, Hunter! We should talk to her more later.” and a “we’ll see” from the man. 

You couldn’t blame him. He had to know what sort of place Ord Mantell was. You wondered why he trusted the carpenter in the first place.  

More questions. Perhaps he knew him from before? 

You made note of these things in your memory. The answers to these could be really important. Not just for your safety, but perhaps theirs. Who knew?

Besides, it couldn’t hurt to be friendly, make them dinner maybe. You wouldn’t have to stay, but extending an olive branch would be smart. An offering of peace. They didn’t seem like people who harmed but were running away from something. You weren’t always right but you weren’t always wrong either. Your intuition was pretty good, and they felt like people who would be good to get to know. 

Stopping by the door to Mrs. Potts’s humble home, you had to stow your thoughts aside. There was another little child who needed your help just beyond the door and he needed your attention. 

Later in the evening, you stopped by the smithery to see the pair hard at work fixing up the place, guessing they didn’t have anything to eat. You were right of course, so when they saw the hearty meal you brought, even Hunter couldn’t hide the staggered look of surprise and longing when the smell reminded him of how hungry he was. He looked suspiciously at you but accepted it with gratitude. They hardly had anything… 

“Ember? What are you doing here?”

His nickname for you (because of your curly red hair—normally crowned with little purple flowers or your favorite, forget-me-nots) pulled you back to the present. 

Hunter stretched his hand toward you but you flinched back, cowering against the tree, arm raised to protect yourself. 

Hurt crossed his eyes for a moment but resolve replaced it in a matter of seconds. He crouched down to your level and raised his hands as a show of peace. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. What happened? Are you alright? Em, talk to me.”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Instead, you struggled to swallow some invisible sand. In the distance, a terrible crackling sounded. It could be mistaken for thunder by the untrained ear but to those who lived in the village of Ord Mantell, it meant terror. They knew what it meant. 

You tore your eyes away from him to where the sound came from, blood drained from your face. An invisible weight pressed itself onto your chest. Cold seeped in and the ghost of fear possessed your eyes. Hunter had never seen you like this before and it shook him. He’d only ever known your smile, your kindness. 

This was so unnatural to him, a shiver went down his spine. 

“They’re after you?”

Your only reply was a choked gasp. Words refused to form into a coherent sentence, so you nodded instead, ever so slightly. 

“Follow me. I can protect you.”

Hunter stretched his hand out once more. Tentatively, you took it. Your grip shook in his firm grasp, fingers rigid and weak from fear.

“Wh-ere a-re we going?” You hated how your voice faltered. You weren’t afraid of him, were you? Hunter was your friend! He was helping you, right? 

Ugh how you hated questioning him, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Back to the cottage. Our cellar is a safe place. You can rest there for a bit but if you need to, we have an underground tunnel you can use. We’ll get you food and supplies. You must have dropped yours.”

You blushed. You actually hadn’t packed anything in your hurry, but you didn’t want to admit that out loud. 

“Thank you, that would be nice.”

Hunter helped you to your feet and brushed you off. Neighing sounded in the distance again, which spurred a hurried “this way” and the care of cleaning you off was forgotten. 

Hunter guided you through the night in a different direction, bubbles in your stomach bursting acid in your throat, your trust in Hunter swaying only a little. 

You were headed toward the crackling sounds. Not away from it. 

But you also knew this was how you got to his home.

Be calm, be calm, be calm.

The words matched the strumming of your heart. And it was like Hunter could hear it because he kept turning to side-eye you, a look on his face, half shrouded by shadow. 

That look could either be concern and care or something else, something dangerous. 

But he never said anything. Only ushered you on with a “hurry!”, voice deep and husky, red with warning. At a certain point, Hunter left the trail to follow alongside a precipice. You knew why. Others would avoid the sharp decline, it would be your refuge. The horses wouldn’t come near it.

“Hunter, how much farther…” 

You were cut off by the sight to your left. It was a distance off, but the terror it evoked had you standing in horror. A hooded figure, draped in black rode atop a black steed which seemed like a ghost itself. Both creatures' eyes shone red and beady in the night, the sound of each breath breaking the quiet of the night. 

“Look out! Get down!” Hunter was already crouched behind a log, aghast at your immobility, hand extended to pull you down with him.

In your attempt to hide, you slipped.

Down you fell into the precipice below and straight into the murky ravine. You tumbled and rolled gasping and grunting with each roll, only vaguely registering your name being shouted in urgency.

Your head struck a rock just as your body hit the water.

Everything went black, and the rest of the night would escape your memory.

— — — 

Hunter watched you fall in horror. He could count on his hands the number of times he’s felt that distinct fear, and it wasn’t many. He cried out your name instinctively but quickly quieted himself. Cursing himself for the racket, he turned to see the horseman disappear in a different direction. 

Thank the maker.

Hunter hurried down the cliff to your side. Though steep, it wasn’t impossible for someone like him, all the while cursing himself for not being more careful with you. He should have noticed you weren’t by him, he should have guided you more carefully…he should have…he should have…

Hunter jumped into the stream moments after your own entry. He dragged your limp body out of the water, which was deeper than he expected. 

“Hey, hey Ember?” He pushed the hair from your face. Your eyes were closed but you were breathing. He sighed in relief. He couldn’t see anything without a light, so a wound check would have to wait for the time being.

 “Let’s get you out of here, come on.” Lifting you up, he carried you the rest of the way to his cottage. 

He rested your exhausted body on the excuse for a mattress in the cellar as promised. Instinctively, you curled in on yourself. Hunter couldn’t help but smile down at you a little sadly. Even in sleep, worry and care stretched across your brow, a restless type of rest. He started to examine your head to make sure you weren’t severely injured. He wrapped the spot which only started to bruise. Then he moved to the cuts on your face and hands, cleaning them and applying a healing cream that none knew existed (except his brother of course). 

When he finished, Hunter tucked you in under the blanket and brushed the hair further from your face. Sighing and smiling in your sleep, something like relief finally settled into your features. Murmuring some gibberish, you leaned into his warm touch. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the sight. 

Hunter sat next to you on the bed and pondered. There were a lot of questions to be asked. The whole situation was so strange, and the fact it was past midnight at the time of your run wasn’t helping. Hunter wasn’t superstitious, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t unsettled by it. What were you doing out so late by yourself? 

Of course there was the fact ‘they’ were chasing you but..

Why would you be their target? What had you done to evoke their rage? But more importantly, how did you know? Most people simply vanished unawares. You had a head start in escape. 

Then there was the Black Rider. 

Who was he? What did he have to do with you? 

Hunter ran his fingers through some of the tangles of your hair, brushing them further from your face, smoothing the strands behind the curve of your ear…when he noticed something. Your ears weren’t perfectly round…they were partially…tipped?

Suddenly, Hunter knew.

This was your secret. 

Well, one of many that was.

You were a half-elven. 

Half-elves were worth a lot of money, and rare. Heck, just as rare as a full-blooded elves. 

No wonder they wanted you…but somewhere deep down, Hunter guessed that wasn’t their only reason. 

Something squeezed in his chest for you, making his blood boil at the thought of what could have happened to you. The heat radiated in waves that made his head feel sick at how much fear you must have lived in for so long. 

The fear. The distrust. The urgency. 

Not to mention that this opened a whole new door of strange possibilities in a world a meager human mind could barely comprehend. 

Half elven. 

And you never told him…

Hunter understood, after all. He had his own secrets.  

In the morning, he’d figure something out. All he knew was that he had to keep you safe. 

Hunter left you in privacy quietly, with the lamp dimly lit, to go double bar the door. 

#the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #star wars #star wars the bad batch #tbb omega #fanfic #star wars fanfic #fanfiction #au #fantasy au #hunter x reader #sargeant hunter #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x you

[shittyartestries]

In New York City, it’s always a rare blessing to see the sparkle of even a single star. It doesn’t get dark here. Even in the small hours of the morning, the sky remains illuminated by the thousands of blinking lights below—of the cars, of the buildings, of the houses. The lights reflect on the clouds, on the heavens themselves, turning them gray or an ugly muddy brown. There is no night in New York City, at least not in Manhattan. Queens can be different. On cold, moonless nights in Ozone Park, the stars come back to dance with me. At my bedside against the window, the stars twinkle and bathe me in a sleepy light. They’re pale and neutered, but I know they’re the same ones I see in my dreams. When I was younger, eight or nine, they visited me every night. When I lived in Punjab, in India, with my Nani and Nanu. When I had no worries. No cares. In the afternoons, I ran endlessly through the streets with my cousins, playing chicklets or pakdam pakdai. I never wanted to stop, so I didn’t. I ran and laughed and played. But when the light of the sun dimmed, we all collapsed in a pile in front of our house. Out came Bruno, a fuzzy black friend, to get his daily pats from the neighborhood kids. As we retired to the rooftop, we all laid in silence, altogether under the net of stars. Mendy and Boozi, our family dogs, whined softly, ready for bed. Our chests heaved, our hearts pounded, our feet ached, and our eyes grew tired. Cold breezes and hard concrete kept me always on my toes. Now though, it was worth it. My hands were a pillow behind my head and I watched the countless stars as they spread out in a never-ending array before me. The Milky Way was so radiant and bright, Hai Ram, it cast a shadow and my legs stretched ten feet. In these moments I was, without a doubt, the tallest girl in the world. With my head in the heavens, how could I not be? Drunk in starlight, I blink and I am back in the city. Years passed by; I find myself an adult, no longer a child. My head lies crooked on my windowsill once more. Tonight is one of those rare and lucky nights. I can see the sky from my bed. Three scattered stars blink back at me and this time the moon smiles at me too. They remember the moments we shared.

-

#poetry #poetry corner #poets and poetry #original poetry #poem #poems #poems on tumblr #poems and quotes #original poem #prose #prose poetry #girlblogging #bullshit tbh #female poets #writing #inktober #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry #spilled words #india #indian #reminiscing #hinduism #india love

[on-a-mechtechnicality]

Idol

The morning sun illuminated the DropShips towering over the encampment and Sigrid was making her way ‘home’. The mess tent was disappearing behind her and the sounds of the camp faded along with it to be replaced by the din of people working around the towering vessels.

She boarded, finding herself in the small human-sized corridors that made the ship feel almost cramped. The feeling didn’t last as she soon found herself face to face with the cavern that was the MechLab. It looked big from up in the overlook, where she could see the entire area, but from here on ground level she didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

Every single Bay was lit up and most had ‘Techs working on repairing the damaged machines inside. Despite this, one of them seemed cloaked in shadow. No light reflected onto the walkway in front, and from where she just entered she couldn’t see into the Bay.

The moment she could though, it all made sense.

Sigrid blinked.

Siggy opened her eyes and bounced to the mirror. In it she saw a girl with a great big mop of unruly red hair. She sat down and brushed and brushed and brushed, and then started braiding, just like Mom had showed her. Each strand meticulously on display.

Behind her on the wall hung her dream. On the left of the twin posters an impressive looking ‘Mech stepped out of a blazing inferno. Legs bending backwards, striding resolutely forward with two arms and great big rocket pods on its shoulders.

Beside it was a much more sedate but much more interesting dream. The same ‘Mech, now laid out in excruciating detail in an exploded technical view. Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she looked over the poster to read all the things she read a thousand times. Where the actuators were, where the sensors were, every single line on the diagram committed to memory, familiar and comforting.

And then she blinked again.

In front of her, black as a moonless night, stood her dream. A towering and proud machine, dormant but steadfast. Almost… alive.

The engineering on the foot in front of her was masterful, if she looked close enough she could see every piece of articulation, not a rivet out of place despite the well-worn look. Her eyes drifted from the trifold feet to the massive calf actuators and then further up. To the upper legs, the sleek torso and the arm actuators ending in dual hardpoints.

She couldn’t see the missile banks, but she knew them. She could see every familiar component, every single caption from her posters on Utrecht.

It didn’t just live up to her expectations, this machine exceeded it.

Blink. Work to do.

Sigrid synced her tablet with the docket and looked over her assigned tasks.

MechTech: Sigrid Guntran Initial assignment: Timber Wolf ‘Death Knell’ Bay: 8 Work order:  right torso; replace armor plating right torso; general maintenance Full systems check Notes: Sigrid, sorry to put this on ya last minute, but I know you can do it! I’m trying to keep low so the MedTechs don’t get me. -Karrie

She looked down at her tablet, and then up at her dream. Part of her wondered if this was real, and another part supplied that she was currently working on an SLDF DropShip, deep in the Rimward periphery, on a hostile planet, under the command of a beautiful avian woman so old that the show she was on with the other Clan totem warriors – who were also here – was considered a historical record.

Working on an actual Timber Wolf didn’t seem so odd anymore.

She climbed up to the catwalk and found the Bay controls. From up here she could see the majesty that was the Timber Wolf from its rear angles, a dark void contrasted against the bright industrial lighting of the MechLab. She knew every angle, every single curve of the machine’s panelling by heart.

As the platform on the ‘Mech’s right side was lowering into position, she moved around to follow it. Panning down from the side she could see where the torso armor had taken the hits. Large chunks were warped or missing, open wounds showing the delicate internals that thankfully seemed to be in good shape. How good a shape she would have to find out later. Right now, the armor needed to come off.

She knew the automated arms could be more efficient, but they weren’t as accurate as handheld power tools. A machine of this caliber deserved those. She let the winch above her come down. Before connecting the straps onto the armor she placed a hand on the wounded ‘Mech.

“We’ll get you fixed up, don’t you worry.”

She hooked the straps to the attachment points in the armor and tensioned the lines. Bit by bit she carefully detached the panel until only the tension from above held them in place. Then it was just a light pull until it started moving.

She slowly guided the crane to move the panel out of the way and safely to the floor level of the Bay, out of the way of the walkway. A tap or two on her tablet flagged it for repairs. A forklift would be along soon.

With the panel out of the way she could see the underlying internals, sleek steel pipes contrasting harshly and beautifully against the black of the surrounding panels. And she knew them.

She knew the coolant from the lubricant from the hydraulics from the electronics at a glance, the labels only confirming what she already knew. Every conduit flowed like a symphony around the frame.

Around the places the armour had been gauged, she looked a little closer. Signs of damage would be hard to spot among the labyrinth of angles, but a visual inspection was part of the troubleshooting process. Her eyes danced over each line, following them from one end of the panel gap to where they snaked back into the ‘Mech’s interior.

All looked clear and secure, Clan engineering ensuring that even in the event of armor breach, the primary systems would not be easy to take out. Let alone the secondary and tertiary.

The systems looked undamaged, so she let the platform carry her down, just in time to see the panel being driven to the manufacturing wing. She followed along, not minding that she couldn’t keep up with the forklift. It’d give them some time to offload before she showed up. The difference in time between walking and driving was significant when dealing with this much space. Sigrid enjoyed the walks though, the Bay in operation was a soothing cacophony of all the different tools interacting with every material under the sun.

The armor repair itself was repetition more than anything. Identify a damaged subpanel. Remove the damaged subpanel. Find a suitable sized replacement. Shape the replacement. Attach the replacement. Repeat.

The capstone was the painting. It needed to match the existing color scheme, and match it well. Fresh paint also looked different from worn paint, but that was nothing they couldn’t handle. In the brochure it had never said that being an artist was part of being a MechTech, but the surprise had been a pleasant one.

The paint fresh but no longer wet, she followed the forklift back to Bay 8. It was already hoisted up and ready to be placed. She considered the automated tools, but for installation the accuracy was even more important than for removal, and handheld tools were king.

The work was honestly calming to Sigrid, alone up on the platform, grafting new skin onto the wounded ‘Mech in front of her. Bit by bit she circled around the edge of the panel until everything looked like she never touched it at all.

She climbed back onto the catwalk where her equipment was stored. She took out her neurohelmet and opened the compartment on her toolkit where she kept her soft tools. She knew them by heart, but looking through them helped remind her which ones she had available should the need arise.

The hop from the catwalk to the top of the Timber Wolf was not a big one. The matte black paint on the armor made it a little harder to judge. What made it really hard to make the jump though, was that Sigrid knew what she was about to do.

She was about to hop on top of a Timber Wolf. She was about to open the latch and lower herself inside. She already knew what it would look like, she knew the view from the cockpit, she knew the exact dimensions of the enclosure.

And that made it all the more daunting.

Gathering her will in her mind and her grip on her neurohelmet, she took the hop.

She was standing on top of a Timber Wolf. She was working on it, it was her work. It was her dream. She unlocked the hatch and allowed herself to slip inside.

Inside the ‘Mech it was quiet. No hum from the reactor, no sound arrived from the outside. There was just Sigrid, trying to calm her breathing, and the terrifying, loving embrace of a dream.

Her mind knew the startup sequence of a ‘Mech. Her fingers danced this dance before. And yet she couldn’t stop trembling as she toggled the first switch.

Bay power to auxiliary generator.

The high-pitched whine of the generator filled the cockpit. It was reassuring, it was terrifying, it was exhilarating.

Flick.

Auxiliary power to emergency lighting.

The lights around her came online. Dim compared to the view through the cockpit, but plenty bright enough to see by.

Auxiliary power to diagnostic systems.

Screens flickered to life. White text flew over a black background as the ‘Mech rose from slumber. Not awake yet, but no longer asleep. Sigrid listened to the whine and the soft clicks performing a symphony of self-tests. The ‘Mech checked its pressures, checked every single one of its connections in a lightning-fast choreography of every system it could access.

The text scrolled by faster than she could read, but she wasn’t looking for text. She was looking for colors. She was looking for the orange that signified a warning, the angry red that signified a fault. Her heartbeat punctuated the soundscape as seconds ticked past.

And then nothing.

No more text flying by, nothing more to focus her attention on. Just a single phrase that was both the best thing she could have read and the most disappointing.

Self-test: 100% Warnings: 0 Errors: 0 System status: OK

No need to diagnose further, it would not be time well spent. It would be time spent with her dream, but that didn’t matter.

She powered down the ‘Mech, returning it to cold and dark status. Ready for when it would be needed again. She picked her neurohelmet from where she set it down and held it in her hands. She stared at the visor.

Reflected in it she could see a woman with red hair in a tight bun, sitting inside the cockpit of a Timber Wolf. Her dream.

She sighed and rotated the helmet around. With trembling hands she placed it on her head.

She wasn’t plugged in.

The ‘Mech was powered down.

She had better things to do.

Siggy closed her eyes. It didn’t matter.

She had her helmet on

Made from an old football helmet, Utrecht Kodiaks logo covered with silver tape

She could see the canopy in front of her

Made from a laundry basket, tipped on its side

She knew exactly where the missile pods were

Two cardboard boxes, placed on the sofa behind her

She was in the cockpit of a Timber Wolf.

She was in the cockpit of a Timber Wolf.

The beat of her heart and the sound of her breath were the only things accompanying her for this moment in time, etching itself into her memory as her visor slowly fogged up without the air circulation connected.

She took off her helmet and held it in her hands, staring into the condensed visor one last time. There was work to be done.

She extracted herself from the cockpit and closed the hatch beneath her.

The hop from the ‘Mech onto the catwalk was both easier and harder than the other way. She landed with a soft impact of her work boots.

She placed her helmet with her toolkit and sat down on the upper catwalk, out of sight of anyone working, staring at her dream.

She raised her tablet. Four taps was all it took.

Work order complete

@jaded-falcon

#battletech #mechwarrior #story event

[courfee]

if this be done (part 1)

@jegulus-microfic | august 26 - crow | wc 1.1k | part 1, 2, 3

a magical realism au with witchboy james :)

James Potter lives in a beautiful cottage in the middle of a green forest with red shutters on all his windows and yellow flowers of every variety one can think of in his garden. His hair is as messy as his working desk, his smile as bright as the early morning sun streaming through his kitchen window, his hands as warm as the fire keeping a big cauldron bubbling at all odd hours of the day, and his heart is as open as the door to his house.

James Potter is a witch, and a skilled one at that, and he offers his abilities up to anyone who asks for help. A plea for a remedy against an especially peculiar sickness is met with a vial full of purple, steaming potion, a cry for help about a spell gone wrong is silenced with a scroll of a messily scrawled on counter spell, and a knock on his door from a lost soul with a heartache is answered with empathy and patience, a gentle smile, an open ear and cup of hot chocolate.

His work helps people and the people help James in return, sending well wishes and favours and ingredients for his potions. Moreover, they give James something to do and someone to be, a person who likes to help and is always there when needed.

He likes his life, likes his work and likes what it has done for him. It’s his magic that brought his best friends into his life, all of them in a similar fashion.

First had been Peter Pettigrew, a small boy with bright eyes and a brighter laugh. Or, he was a boy once James had found the right spell and the correct combination of daisyroot draught and honesty honey, buttercup brew and sunflower syrup. It took a while until James managed to turn him from the little brown rat that had turned up on his doorstep back into the boy he had been before he had stumbled into the wrong pixie ring and eaten the wrong mandrake leaves.

After that, word spread out quickly and Sirius Black was the next one to turn up. A loud and cheerful boy by day who, at night, turned quiet and terrified, the remnants of his family life that had ended when his mother had cursed him to be a big black dog, like his namesake in the stars. The re-transformation was more difficult this time round. Curses were not one of James’ specialities, and it took a while for him to undo the damage – at least the physical one – that his family had left on him. In the months it took Sirius stayed with him, and by the end James had not only gained more knowledge but a best friend as well.

Last had been Remus Lupin. He, too, had come to seek help about an animal problem. Turning into a wolf when the moon stood high and full plagued him even during the moonless days and, having heard of James’ previous success regarding animal transformations, he had sought him out, with scars on his face and hope in his eyes.

James didn’t exactly fail that time. He never managed to complete what he had sat out to do, but when, after having to bring Remus’ the news that he would not manage to turn him back into a full-time human, Remus smiled at him and said “I do not mind anymore,” James knew he still had managed to help where help was needed. Remus completed their little band of marauders, and with them found the acceptance he had always needed, and on top of that found love he had never expected to find with Sirius.

All in all it doesn’t surprise James when one afternoon in the late days of summer there is a knock on his front door and he opens it to find yet another animal looking up at him with dark, beady eyes and asking, a voice more human than crow-like, “Are you James Potter?”

James smiles, pushes the door further open and says, “That I am. Come on in and tell me what I can do for you.”

The crow walks in, head held high, black feathers shimmering in the green glow of the forest, and follows James to his living room. James takes a seat on his worn-out sofa and motions the crow to do the same.

“My name is Regulus,” the crow says, once perched on the arm rest opposite James, “and I have found myself in the unfortunate situation of being cursed.”

James smiles at Regulus, encouragingly and brightly, and says, “Lucky for you I’ve gained some experience with curses last year. It’s still not my speciality, but I will do what I can do unravel the curse so you can walk on two legs again.”

Regulus gives him a look that makes it obvious that had he still had eyebrows, they would now lift up into his hairline. “I am walking on two legs,” he says flatly. “It’s not the walking I’m concerned about.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, all my previous clients had four legs when they came to me. This is a bit of a change, you see? But no matter, I’m sure there is not much difference between a crow and a dog.”

“Maybe I should find a different witch,” Regulus huffs. “One who is competent enough to not think a crow and a dog are anything alike.”

“Regulus,” James says, and the name feels pleasantly cold and smooth on his tongue, “You will find that I am the most competent witch.”

“And the most arrogant one, too, it seems.”

It is the first time that James’ smile falters, fog obscuring the morning sun. “I’ll help you,” James says. “It will take time and it won’t be easy, but I’ll help you. But for the duration of the process you will have to stay in my house.”

The crow grumbles, but he nods his little head. 

“And while you are here I will not brook you being unkind to anyone who comes by. If you can’t be a decent human being – or crow, for that matter – to any of the people who seek help from me, then I cannot help you either.”

Regulus steps from one foot onto the other, ruffling his feathers as he gives this a thought. “I’m not an unkind person,” he says finally, “I simply cannot stand stupidity and people so often are stupid. But I’ll step aside when you have clients and will not bother them. Does that work?” Regulus seems rather rude to James and he must admit he doesn’t quite like him from the few words they have exchanged. But he is James Potter, and who he is is a person who likes to help and is always there when needed. No matter how awful of a person, Regulus needs his help, and so James blows away the fog, gives Regulus a sunny smile and nods. “That works. Welcome to my home, Regulus, make yourself comfortable and I will start looking for the right spells.”

#this is the second microfic im writing the first one is in the queue for tomorrow hehe #this was a very spontaneous thing and unfortunately the setup for the story got a little away from me #so i think ill have to make this a little micro fic series because i like them too much for this #the first two paragraphs are probably my favourite beginning to a story ive ever written and im incredibly mad at myself #cause this was just supposed to be a couple hundred words of crow regulus #and instead it turned into this #jegulus #james x regulus #regulus x james #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders #marauders fanfiction #microfic #my writing #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #mine #Hp #if this be done

[caitvithinker]

utenanthy (again)

the cerulean hues of her irises slightly lit up by the glow of the morning sun; as if destined to ruin the moonless night i had been living in.

enamored by her way of love, her way of care, her way of bravery. my plastic soul could do nothing but be influenced by her goodness.

i am a doll, yet vulnerable enough to be touched by the sweet promises of a girl who knows nothing.

i am a doll, yet i care enough to entertain her promises; vowing tea parties with cookies in decades time

i am supposed to be a doll, and yet i am stupid enough to believe the vows we made with eachother that i know will amount to nothing.

#tired af im not even gonna rewrite the bad parts #not that bad but the structure is annoying af #caitvi #revolutionary girl utena #utenanthy #juriori #hnk #jwqs #orv #yoohankim #writing

[adelleandlaura4ever]

Love So Pure

It’s sweet like nectar

of the garden flower,

its soothing like the buzzing

of a bumble bee,

its warm like the rays

of the morning sun,

its the search of a love so pure

which keeps me on the run.

...

its the pulse in my vein,

the thoughts in my brain,

in every breath that I take,

the smile my lips make,

its in the twinkle of my eye,

till the day I die.

...

its the dream in my sleep,

its springs freshest leaf;

a love so rare like this

will always be with me for keeps.

...

its the warmth of my blood,

as my feelings flood,

as says my heart's beat,

its depth touches the ocean's feet.

...

even if its heart searing pain,

with nothing to gain,

I will feel it as the tear on my cheek,

and without words my soul will speak.

...

a feeling so sincere,

a bond so strong,

I know my soul will never guide me wrong.

...

I will wait till my last sunset,

till my heart slows down with a dull ache,

till my eyes are wet,

till I meet my soul's mate,

yes, I will wait.

...

Unknown author

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You are my True Love, Laura

You are Love.... Love personified!

Our hearts are brought together!

So close are we, that our hearts beat in rhythm,

regardless of our distance apart ... nearly half a world away.....

Yet, our souls are embraced!

Love is Us!

Our souls are destined for each other,

A bond so strong, our love is timeless and Forevermore !! Never ending!

Everyday..... I yearn for the touch of your hands,

The embrace of your arms,

The depth of love I will see in your eyes,

The softness of your lips,

The delicious taste of your kiss,

The warm of your breath against my skin,

And the sound of your passion.

These are the flowers of love in our garden

These are the stars I see above in the night sky

And someday, we will walk the garden, stroll the meadow together hand in hand on a moonless night.

I need you my Liebling !

Everyday for the rest of my Life!

I will forevermore hold you in my heart

I love you Laura ❤️❤️❤️❤️

@dreamiingofher

@adelleandlaura4ever

#adelle&laura