#and added several handfuls of cocoons after that

[fiberandfancysticks]

Roughly 100 cocoons in a box!!! Now I have space in my Assortment of Cardboard Tubes to continue sticking starting-to-spin silkworms in them! (there are still lots more than 150 silkworms. I bought supposedly 250 eggs!)

This fluff is the extra silk from around all of these cocoons! Apparently, you can just spin this straight up? I'm going to try it!

I attempted to weigh the fluff, and it is less than a gram! I am VERY EXCITED! SILK!!!

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ/ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ ʟɪᴠᴇꜱ :), ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘɪɴɢ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ʙʀɪᴇꜰ ʜᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ, ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 2ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

⋆ ★ ᴜʜʜʜʜ ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ. ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɴᴏᴡ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛɪᴇꜱ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʙᴀᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴏꜰꜰ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Your heart nearly stops when you see that helmet rightfully placed on his head again.

The batch had already lost so much, from Omega getting captured by the Empire to Tech disappearing into the fog; Crosshair was just another one of those losses that added to the group’s misery. Though, calling any of the events just one of many feels like you’re undermining their importance. 

The tight band of brothers you so abruptly became a part of during the Clone Wars turned into a fractured group of obsolete, defective soldiers drifting through the galaxy, their inherent purpose wasted away like the fading remnants of the Republic. And you’re forced to watch, equally aimless and discouraged, and see Hunter’s once determined stature be chipped away, loss after loss. You see Echo’s connection to the group being severed and fading with every setback; Wrecker’s optimistic disposition becoming grimmer and grimmer. Their key characters remain, yet they feel so out of reach, cocooned into their bodies out of self-preservation.

When the cavalry arrives and the batch reunites, you’re not sure how to feel.

Everyone’s relieved, no doubt. Wrecker envelopes Crosshair and Tech into a loving, suffocating embrace; Echo and Hunter converse and exchange vital information to help benefit their hopes to save more of their brothers. And Omega, little Omega’s eyes regain all their color when she sees all of you again, giving each a long, savoring hug to say all she wants but is too overwhelmed to express. 

Suddenly, everything is back to normal. Back to before .

Yet the first time you see Crosshair’s face as he slides his bucket off his head, you realize that still, so many things have changed since the end of the war. His hair is gone, leaving a nasty scar on the side of his head that could compete with Wrecker’s spider web of damage. Wrinkles are etched into his face, any sense of youth gone from his complexion, eyebags you could trace with your finger and a droop in his mouth and eyes garnered from months of misery and torture in solitude and confinement.

The sight upsets you. It makes your skin crawl and tears swell up in your eyes because you think about the last time you truly got to talk to Crosshair. Not on Kamino after he’d chosen the Empire, when the air was tainted with the drive to escape alive; but on the Marauder on their way to Kaller to assist Master Billaba and Caleb.

It had been the first time you got him to smile your way. Genuinely, and not one of those smug or sly ones he likes to give regs when he emerges superior.

The two of you had been… close. Somewhat. When you first joined the batch as their medic you got along easily with the rest of the crew, making friendships and memories as time went on. But Crosshair always remained that pesky lump in the carpet you couldn’t seem to flatten.

Eventually, or so you believe, he warmed up to you; and began to actually talk on the nights you both found yourselves restless sitting beside each other in the cockpit or the barracks. He’d offer you little slimmers of guidance as you patched up his injuries, telling you what hurt and what didn’t, guiding your hands when you shook and struggled to stitch up a cut.

You two became familiar with your unfamiliarity.

Now, he’s eerily silent– not the cold, stern silence he typically used to wear– deafening, stomach-twisting silence. You can’t keep your eyes off of him, scanning his little behavior patterns and actions, searching for anomalies or changes, trying to prove to yourself that’s still the same man you once knew; just tainted with something else. 

When Crosshair catches you staring, he huffs and puffs out his chest.

“Something wrong?” He asks, snide as ever, and the familiarity makes you grin.

“Nothing,” you respond, leaning back on the side seat in the cockpit, but not once severing the eye contact. “Just taking you in.”

He tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. Each of your voices are soft, save for the occasional slither of Crosshair’s voice curling over a word. You speak lowly in the dead of the night, still awake when everyone has fallen asleep. It had always been this way even before the war; the two of you would find yourselves late at night with wide eyes and lively minds and would sit beside each other in the cockpit to just talk. For a moment, nothing has changed.

“I’m taking in that you’re really here. In front of me,” You continue, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Not once does Crosshair look away from you. You’re unsure if he’s even blinking. “You’ve– you’ve been gone for so long that I almost got used to it.”

“Hm,” He gruffs, and his chin dips up and down in the barest slimmer of a nod. Silence falls over the space between you before he talks again. “I understand what you mean. I think the same thing happened to me.”

Your jaw slacks, lips parting dumbly. You wish you had more to say. 

“Yeah?” you mutter. 

He nods again, more stiff and clear. You take a deep breath through your mouth, then exhale. You breathe again, then exhale. There’s so much you want to say, and also nothing at all. Do you let the moment rest? Do you let him process just as you should? Or do you speak? Confess all your past fears and worries and grievances and all the kriffing guilt you’ve carried this past year?

You inadvertently choose the former. Silence sweeps through the two of you again.

Eventually, Crosshair decides to say something, much to your surprise. He clears his throat and finally drifts his stare away from you.

“The empire…” He begins, and immediately you sigh and shake your head, reaching a hand out to rest over his.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you say, taking a deep breath again as you compose yourself. “I know it must be a lot to talk about.”

“I want to tell you about it,” He rebukes, stare as piercing as his crosshair. You still. He doesn’t move until you give him a response.

So you straighten your back and nod, gulping shallowly. 

“OK.”

Crosshair sighs.

“You know as well as any other clone what we’ve been taught our whole life.” His voice curls into something lurchingly sharp, and defensive. “And… because I was never good, we were never good, just a ‘bad batch’... All I wanted was to be good at something I could feasibly be. A good soldier.”

He takes a pause that weighs heavy on his tongue.

“And good soldiers follow orders .”

Everything in you wants to reach out and hold him. Suddenly the few inches of space between you becomes miles upon miles, and all you need is to wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him to your chest, so you can squeeze him tight and make sure he’s there, so he knows that it’s okay and that you’re here for him, always. But you let him make space for himself. You’d feel selfish otherwise.

“That chip , it changed how I thought,” he continues, voice cracking slightly at the word chip . “And they told me they took it out. That it was just my inherent nature to follow them. They made me think their thoughts were mine .” He becomes more strained with each second he talks, and you almost feel guilty letting him keep talking. But then you remember he wanted to tell you. 

Your stomach twists. 

He wants you to know. 

He wants you to listen. 

He wants you to understand .

“The chip fought against my body. It made me sick. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t see straight. Could barely shoot a kriffing target. I felt– I felt mad ,” He exhales darkly and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched and head heavy. He brings it up again to finish. “And they tried to fix it on Tantiss. Tried to make me a good soldier again.”

You keen further as he does, your heads so close it only would take the slightest movement until your foreheads were pressed together. 

“But by then, I found Omega. We found Tech. They got the chip out of me. We came here. And... Now everything’s clear again. I can see, hear, understand better. I can think freely. Can hear, talk freely. I’m… finally something not attached to another.”

He finishes his words and for good this time. It takes a moment for it all to process, and once it does, you still take the time to rethink and reprocess them again. Every single word you meticulously file into your cognitive wheels that turn and click together while you try to come up with a feasible response just as eloquent or thoughtful. But not enough comes to mind. You’re afraid to just let it sit, but there’s no conclusion otherwise. 

So you do. You let it sit. You keep his eyes on his and let his words travel from his mouth to your ears and into your brain. The tears that began to swell up in your eyes are now dry and your breath is steady again, and the stability is comforting in just the way you’d hoped it to be.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk for that long,” you finally, finally let out, a breathy chuckle escaping your open mouth. Crosshair chuckles dryly, lips still downturned.

“Me neither,” He agrees.

For a moment, the two of you just laugh; it’s a nice sedative, a buffer between the tense air and postures just to enjoy each other’s company again. Crosshair doesn’t laugh often. It’s hard to make him genuinely chuckle with actual joy or excitement. Seeing this sight makes your heart erupt in overwhelming warmth, and strangely enough, relief.

“ Kriff , I missed you.”

You don’t expect it to come out.

Crosshair blinks, tilting his head to the left. You slack your jaw, lips parting slightly and your eyes widen in your own surprise.

You wish there was more for you to do or fix. But there isn’t. What’s said is said. All you can do is wait for his response.

He methodically darts out his tongue and kicks his bottom lip, sucking it in to bite it harshly, not once looking away, stare still pensive and almost impossible to read. At least that hasn’t changed.

“…I should have figured,” he says.

You huff and bite the inside of your cheek.

“I’m just so empathetic?” You ask sarcastically. Crosshair frowns playfully.

“Sounds about right.”

A bubbling giggle leaves you as he exhales darkly and his gaze softens; there’s something new in his eyes, something peculiar and hard to place. Yet you can tell just from it that he feels comfortable in your presence. That the tense air comes from your circumstance, not his reluctance. You sigh pleasantly and offer a helplessly wistful smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Cross,” you confess. He raises an eyebrow. You string your lips tight and run an arm up and down your thigh, up and down, containing the urge to reach out and touch him. 

“Likewise,” he answers, voice curling into his chin as he finishes. 

There’s nothing else you can say. Frankly, there’s nothing else you want to say. Crosshair’s eyes drift elsewhere, but you watch his hand slowly inch closer and closer to yours in your peripheral vision. You meet him in the middle, and clumsily, you take hold of each other’s hand. His skin is much more coarse and rough and cold, but they’re just as pleasant to grasp as you imagined. He deliberately flexes each finger, letting them trace your skin and elicit gentle, held-in exhales. Crosshair looks up. You follow suit. And there does the wordless exchange speak louder than anything else.

ragu list lovers: @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @followthepurrgil @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

[stvrni0lo]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff, hurt/comfort)

summary: chris finds out that you’re afraid during the storm so he decides to comfort you as best as he can

warnings/notes: mentions of being scared/anxiety

requested?: yes! ↴

- could you do a romantic fluff based on the "blanket fort" and the "you're safe” prompt with chris @bobawitch

- can i request prompt 26 "cuddling during storm/power outage" with chris

> > >

The storm had caused a power outage across the majority of the town. You didn’t mind all that much considering it was late at night and you were going to sleep anyway.

Yet the sound of the storm outside kept you up. The rain was like bullets against the window, pattering incessantly against the glass. It would’ve been alright if it was only rain, but when your whole room lit up as a huge strike of lightning hit, you were done for.

Thunder boomed straight after, and you shoved your head under the blanket in fear. You had always hated loud noises, especially when they cane unexpectedly.

Only one person could help you, but he was on the other side of the house.

‘Fuck,’ you muttered as you cocooned yourself in the blanket before standing up from your mattress and practically sprinting to Chris’ room. Another lightning bolt illuminated the house, and you shook slightly with fear.

“Chris,” you whisper yelled as you knocked on his door.

Chris was a night owl, so it was no surprise when he opened the door in mere seconds, fully awake.

He had candles lit in his room as he seemed to be rearranging his closet.

Taking one look at you, he chuckled. You probably looked ridiculous but you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel safe - and Chris always made you feel safe.

“What’s the get-up for?” he mocked.

You gripped your blanket tighter to you.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, embarrassed.

Chris’ façade quickly fell as he immediately turned serious. He let you into the room, closing the door behind him. His arms came to wrap around you, squeezing you deeper into your blankets.

Another bit thunder shrieked across the house, causing your whole body to tense.

You felt his hand hold your head close to his chest, the volume of the storm muffling slightly against the fabric of his jumper. Chris petted your head softly as he rocked you back and forth.

“You’re safe here,” he whispered against the crown of your head. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Lifting your head from the comfort of his chest, you looked around the area. He had clothes strewn all over the floor, and candles saturated every dark corner of the room.

“Spring cleaning?” you joked.

Chris chucked as he rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“I was bored - and wide awake with no WiFi. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Save me from the storm,” you responded.

You crawled on top of his sheets, curling up ad you waited for him to join you. Chris didn’t budge. You looked at him expectantly, but he only held his finger up as if to say ‘one second’.

He scurried around the room as he grabbed several sheets and pillows from his closet. You simply watched him. Eyes trained onto him, you followed his movements as he began to build a little hut around you. He was careful to not knock over any candles in the process.

He picked up an old stuffed animal of his as he sat it down next to you.

“He’ll keep you safe until I’m back,” said Chris as he continued to build his masterpiece.

Once the fort was built, Chris blew out all but one candle in the room, crawling into bed finally. It was cozy - and cute. The white sheets felt like an aura of protection, even when the lightning struck loudly against the endless sky, you didn’t jump quite as much as before.

But maybe that was because Chris was here.

Shifting himself so that he was wrapped up in your blanket with you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“You still scared?”

Hugging an arm around his torso, you squeezed him affectionately.

“Not at all,” you responded.

With a kiss to the forehead, Chris let you finally drift off to a much needed sleep, listening to your breathing even out. He was glad you came to him in your time of need. He would always be there to protect you - no matter what.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

@stargirlv0id

[thenerdysewist]

Making a Masking Tape Pattern

It's an old cosplay hack. You wrap a part of your body in plastic wrap (cling film), and then apply duct tape or masking tape over the plastic wrap until it fits to your body. You can then draw on the shape of the garment and seams, and it should fit perfectly to your measurements.

Over the weekend I was attempting to use a bodice pattern I already had to make a leather chest plate for a D&D Ranger Cosplay. After several failed mock ups, in which the curve for the princess seam just wouldn't sew flat, I gave up and looked for a different pattern. My usual online sources for free patterns failed me, and I decided to try my hand at this age old cosplay hack.

Step 1: Wrapping Yourself in Plastic Wrap and Tape.

I was able to wrap the plastic wrap around my entire torso, but not so much by upper back. For that I required the help of my mom. I was able to apply the tape to my front half, but for the back I once again needed the help of a second person.

Step 2: Marking the Seams

Once I was wrapped in tape, I took a sharpie and drew on where I wanted the seams. I marked a center front line, a center back line, a shoulder seam line, and a side seam line. I also marked a front and back neckline, and drew on the curve of the princess seam so that it curved over my bust to my waist to account for the natural curve of my bust.

Then my mom cut me out of the tape up the center back line. Note, be sure you are thoroughly wrapped in plastic wrap before you start applying tape. I didn't do as good a job as I thought I did, and disaster struck.

Thankfully the tank top I was wearing was one I'd had since high school, so losing it wasn't the end of the world, but maybe wear an old shirt you don't care about if you do this, just in case.

Step 3: Making the Pattern

Once free of my masking tape cocoon, I cut apart the shell along the seam lines I drew. That left me with three wobbly tape pieces. The seam over the bust held its 3D shape once cut apart, so I added a notch in the curve to make it lie flat.

Then I traced the shapes onto some parchment paper (but any big enough piece of paper will do) and added half an inch all the way around to allow for the seams and hems.

Step 4: Mock Up

Before I cut into the very expensive fake leather I bought, I wanted to make sure the pattern fit. So I cut apart a mock up from another project to make a mock up for this one.

Half of it fit great, half of it came out super wonky, but at that point I'd been working on this for 6 hours straight, so I decided to wait and fix it the next day. I got up the next morning and cut another mock up and stitched it together.

This time it fit perfectly, and I cut into the leather.

Step 5: Final Fabric

I cut out the pattern one last time, this time in the fake leather I purchased.

Then I stitched it together, and tried it on using clothes pins to hold it shut.

As you can see, it fits perfectly. I have some buckles coming, and then I'll be able to finish it!

Normally I would have saved this for when I completed the project, but I was really excited and proud that I learned a new technique! I wanted to share that excitement with you.

[leighsartworks216]

Captain, My Captain

Engineer Mark x AFAB!reader (can probably be read as platonic)

This honestly didn’t go the direction I thought it would but I think I like where it landed so

Warnings: cramps, uterus things, swearing

Word Count: 1130

Masterlist

Ah, space. A future age, filled with adventure and wonder and hope. Stars twinkled every which-a-way you looked. The crew smiled and saluted with dreams of a new future on a new planet. And the coffee was always hot and ready whenever you needed it.

Unfortunately, being in space didn’t stop your body from tearing itself apart.

-

“Anybody seen the Captain?” Mark’s worried frown only deepened as the bridge crew shook their heads. They only lingered on your missing presence for a moment before going back to work. After all, it wasn’t unusual for you to run around to every corner of the Invincible II to help the others with their jobs.

What was unusual was that you didn’t tell Mark. Not that he wanted to come off as overbearing, but normally you would let him know what section you were off to and he’d meet you there - that is, if you were heading straight from your quarters. It just wasn’t like you to be away from the Bridge without letting him know.

He decided to wait a couple minutes. Maybe you were just getting in a few more winks? I mean, space travel can be pretty exhausting, especially when you don’t have a good way of telling the time of day.

But you still didn’t show up.

Mark, anxiously tapping his finger on his leg, left the bridge to find you.

-

“Computer, where’s the Captain?” Mark was not only anxious and frustrated, but worried. He’d checked cryo, the reactor, and even ADS for any sign of you. Celci, Burt, and Gunther hadn’t seen you either. It was driving him mad.

“The Captain is in their quarters. However, they requested not to be bothered today.”

“What?” he called incredulously to the ceiling. “How come?”

“They did not give a reason.”

In no time flat, Mark was standing in front of the door to your quarters. As Head Engineer, he had special access to your room (for emergencies only), but he knocked instead of just letting himself in. “Captain? Are you in there?”

“The Captain has requested-”

“Oh, shut up!” He knocked again. “Captain, what’s wrong?”

He pressed his ear to the metal door, listening as you groaned. He could just barely make out the words, “Go away.”

“Did something happen? Are you hurt? I can get a med kit and-”

“Mark, please just go away.”

Maybe he would have, the persistent bastard, had you not grunted in pain. Instead, he pressed his hand to the sensor and let himself in.

“Captain, wha-”

You groaned, glaring at him underneath the several blankets that cocooned you. “Mark, I said go away.”

He approached your bed, removing his glove and pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You were ultimately powerless to stop him. You were so close to finding a position that didn’t hurt and you didn’t dare move in fear of ruining that.

“Well, you’re not running a fever.” He pulled his glove back on, eyeing your cocoon of comfort curiously. “Are you feeling alright, Cap?”

“I’m fine,” you grit out. A wave of pain shot through your abdomen, almost making it hard to breathe for a moment. You curled up tighter into yourself. “Just...” You breathed out, trying to get past the pain. “Fine.”

Mark frowned. You were obviously not fine. After all, you were holing yourself up in your living space, curled up on your bed. And you were clearly in pain. He couldn’t understand what was wrong, or why you were hiding in the first place.

“Captain, if you’re hurt you should go to med bay. They could fix you right up in no time at all.” He weakly grinned, as though he was pitching a commercial deal. It fell quickly as you curled up even more and whimpered. “Captain?”

“Please just go away...”

Your voice was watery and quiet. All he could do was watch as you hid your face in your pillow, sniffling and shaking as you began to cry.

Mark had never seen you cry before. He didn’t, in all honesty, know what to do. He wanted to leave, do as you asked. But his heart ached in his chest with even the thought of leaving you alone like this.

Maybe it was just guilt. After all, he’d forced his way into your room and bombarded you with questions. Whatever awful feeling had slunk its way into his chest kept him from abandoning you in your time of need.

He moved around the room, taking light steps in his thick leather boots. He got you a glass of water and a bottle of a sports drink and set them on your nightstand. He also grabbed a box of tissues, setting them closer to you than the drinks. He made sure you had extra blankets, in case you needed more for your cocoon, and even found some snacks tucked away.

By the time he was done, you were no longer crying. Rather, you watched him as he took care of you, without even knowing what the problem was. His face was scrunched up with focus as he made sure everything was in a good spot and that you would have everything you needed to be comfortable. His eyes met yours and his brows rode up his forehead, eyes wide and mouth suddenly fumbling for what to say to explain what he was doing.

“Uhm, so, you’ve got water for hydration, a sports drink for the electrolytes - I wasn’t sure what flavor you would like, so I got a couple of those - some tissues. I found some extra blankets, just in case. Oh! And here are some snacks. I got salty, sweet-” He did a double take at the granola bar. His face scrunched up in confusion. “Umami...?” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, if you need anything, Captain, just lemme know!” He tapped on his wrist pad to make a point.

“You don’t...” You sniffled. “You don’t think I’m weak?”

Mark frowned, confusion and concern making a home on his face once again. “What? Why would I think that?”

You sat up, propping yourself up against the headboard of the bed. “Because I’m crying and hiding away and I can’t even handle a little pain and-”

“Captain, none of that makes you weak.”

You both stared at each other in bewilderment.

“You’re the best captain this ship has ever seen! You put everyone else before yourself, and you help out everywhere you can. Just because you’re hurting, for whatever reason, doesn’t mean you’re weak. And I’m sure the rest of the crew would agree!”

“You really think so?”

“Hell yeah!” His grin was as bright as the warp core. Its warmth eased the tension in your shoulders.

You smiled back softly. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Anytime, Captain.”

[shion-yu]

Day 28 - Oxygen Deprivation

Can't breathe. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Albert - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23743193.albert 

CW: Acute on chronic illness

Al had had a fever for a week now and Theo was getting worried. At first they thought it was just his scheduled change in antibiotics, but that usually only lasted for a day or two at most. Then he thought maybe Al had caught a little cold, but this seemed worse than the sniffles. Al was currently tucked into the side of their couch propped up on several pillows and wrapped in a blanket cocoon that did little to quell his trembling. His face was blotchy with fever and his coughing sounded more like he had just woken up, when in reality he’d already done several breathing treatments and his vest twice today. Theo winced as Al broke into another painful sounding fit that ended in a whine.

He brought Al a hot mug of tea, the simple warm drink tending to ease the pain in his throat more than medication usually did. Al thanked him hoarsely and took it with trembling hands. He had to rest the mug on the arm of the couch right away or it would have spilled.

“Maybe we should go to the hospital,” Theo said worriedly. He knew how much Al hated going there, but he was starting to suspect this was more than they could handle at home. Al just coughed in response and took a small sip of tea. His curly dark hair wilted close to his head, dampened by cold sweat. “I’m nervous,” Theo added, biting his lip. It was already bleeding.

“Leave your lip,” Al said, instead trying to turn the conversation to focus on Theo. “I have to kiss those lips.” That was something Al said frequently, a running joke between them. Theo couldn’t bring himself to smile about it this time, though. 

“Please, Ally. I’m worried about that fever.” 

Al shook his head stubbornly. Theo, always one to avoid confrontation, just sighed. They’d already called the doctor twice, who’d sent them steroids and made an appointment for Al to be seen first thing Monday morning. It was now Saturday afternoon and Theo didn’t know if they could wait that long. Al had dealt with this condition his whole life though and Theo told himself that Al knew his body better than anyone. If he thought it was okay, it would be okay. It had been okay all the other times Theo had fussed over Al only for it indeed not to be that big of a deal. But Theo couldn’t fully ignore his instinct that something just wasn’t right here - and it was stronger than usual.

Later that night, he regretted not pushing harder. Al woke him up - something his boyfriend never did on purpose. He was sweating profusely and looked positively white even in the dark as he shook Theo’s shoulder hard. “Al?”

Theo heard the sound of noisy breathing. Gasping, really. He shot up in terror, immediately on alert. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

Al was sitting up in bed and had one fist clenched tightly against his chest. He seemed to have trouble speaking and forced out, “Can’t… breathe…” His words were accompanied by a high pitched wheeze.

Theo’s blood ran cold. He called 911 right away, not caring whether Al intended for him to or not. Al was literally fighting to breathe, there was no way that was okay. After making sure an ambulance was coming, Theo sat Al up higher in bed and positioned himself behind boyfriend, holding him upright. Knowing he was safe to do so in Theo’s arms, Al slumped bonelessly against him. “Stay awake, baby. Deep breaths. Just try. In and out…” His instructions were useless. Al could probably teach a class in proper breathing techniques. But Theo didn’t know what else to do. He was crying as he tried to keep Al awake until EMS arrived.

They lived close to the hospital on purpose and an ambulance came quickly, although those fifteen minutes felt like a year. They didn’t need to ask what the problem was - it was obvious as soon as they walked in the bedroom that Al was struggling to breathe. His eyes rolled to the back of his head every so often as he temporarily would lose the battle to stay awake. His oxygen saturation on room air was 69%. Al was loaded onto a stretcher in the back of the ambulance and immediately given oxygen. It worked quickly and soon Al’s O2 was at least back up to the 80s, and then they were off. Theo drove behind the emergency vehicle like a madman, not even considering if it could get him pulled over or not (thankfully, it did not).

He’d never been so scared before.

By the time they arrived in the emergency room and Al was placed into a small room, he seemed a bit more with it than before. No wonder, Theo thought in horror. With an O2 that low he felt lucky that Al had had the capacity to wake him up for help. He swore to himself that next time Al was sick he wouldn’t sleep at all. It was an unrealistic expectation, but Theo didn’t care about logic right now. All he cared about was that Al was okay. Although less acute than as they raced to the hospital, guilt and fear had a tight grip on him.

It was a long few hours in the emergency room. Theo kept Al’s hand tightly in his, even though Al was asleep for most of it. His oxygen was back up to the 90s on four liters and so Al finally let himself rest with the reassurance that if he did stop breathing, he was in the right place. His blood pressure and temperature were still high, but the most important part was covered for now. He was getting IV Tylenol, antibiotics and would be transferred to the floor as soon as there was a bed available for him. Theo didn’t let go of Al’s hand for a single second.

Once Al was settled in a room - Theo helping fill in all the admission questions because Al was too groggy to answer them, thank God he’d remembered to grab the folder that had all of Al’s medical information in it on the way out the door - he looked a whole lot better than he had at home. Sure he was in the hospital, but it was definitely where he needed to be right now. Theo sat in a chair next to the bed and let himself cry in earnest, finally.

Al’s eyes fluttered open and he watched Theo silently for a few seconds before he moved his hand to rest on Theo’s knee. Theo wiped his tears away and took Al’s hand, still hiccuping. “I was so scared,” he said.

“I know,” Al said quietly. “Me too. I’m sorry.”

Theo shook his head. “Next time, we’re coming earlier.” Al knew better than to argue right now, especially because he’d only just inadvertently traumatized Theo by being stubborn. It’d been many years since he’d been sick enough to warrant an ambulance ride; Al genuinely hadn’t expected to get so sick so fast. But maybe that was part of getting older. Al knew his lungs weren’t going to hang on forever, but he didn’t like to think about it if he could help it. It was too much. Too scary.

He stayed in the hospital for a week getting IV antibiotics, steroids and some serious PT before being released home - for the first time ever, with home oxygen. Theo stayed with him the whole time, listless and worn out. Al felt horrible knowing he’d done this to his boyfriend and so didn’t complain, even when he felt his heart clench with unhappiness when they showed him how to manage oxygen at home. It was only temporary, they told him. Hopefully. Al didn’t want to trust that too readily lest he be disappointed. He knew it was a step that many CFers didn’t go backwards from.

It wasn’t until they were back home in their wonderfully quiet apartment, showered and in their own bed, that Al told Theo, “Please stop sulking. I promise it won’t get this bad again.”

“You don’t know that,” Theo said, hugging himself. The nasal cannula hooked over Al’s ears was difficult for him to look at now that they were home. It represented more than he was ready for - the looming threat of Al’s illness, ever progressive in nature.

Al sighed. “You’re right,” he said tiredly. “I don’t know. But we can’t start living like it’s all already over.”

“I’m scared,” Theo admitted, voice breaking. “I know you’re probably more scared but I’m scared. I don’t want anything to happen to you. What if… what if you hadn’t woken me up?”

“But I did,” Al said. “And we’re gonna be more careful from now on. I promise.”

Theo sniffled, trying not to break into full tears yet again but it was hard. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ally,” he whimpered.

Al gathered him into a tight hug. “I know. I feel the same way. But we just… The only thing we can do is keep fighting, right?”

“I guess you’re right,” Theo said quietly. It didn’t seem like enough, but it would have to be. He hugged Al tighter. “Don’t let go of me,” he said.

“Never,” Al promised.

[thesilversun]

Writting patterns meme

Thank you @kingsandbastardz for the tag.

Although this is supposed to first lines of posted fic, I've already done that version recently - here

So these are from WIPs where I have something that will be probably be the first lines. Although this is first paragraph rather than first line.

New horizons sequel

Jinsha is a welcome sight, Song Lan thinks as the road descends from the wooded hills to the wide river valley, where the Juzhang river slowly winds its way eastwards.

2. Untitled beyond evil fic

The call arrives while Han Joowon is driving. The windscreen wipers fight against the incessant rain, while the headlights cut brightly through the winter night. The route and the reason for travelling is a familiar one these days. Manyang is like a second home, while the people there feel like the only real friends he's ever had

3. Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji stuck in the xuanwu cave AU

It had been a split second decision to push Wei Wuxian, self-sacrificing fool that he is, into the water. He had already managed to get himself branded, and Jiang Cheng absolutely doesn’t want to see what other foolhardy thing he might do if he isn’t promptly moved out of harm’s way

4. Sangcheng spanking fic

“Next time you should spank me.”

For a moment Jiang Cheng isn’t sure that he has heard Nie Huaisang correctly. They are both for want of a better word fucked out. Sprawled on Huaisang’s ridiculously comfortable bed, sweat drying on their skin, bodies relaxed and warm in the afterglow of sex.

5. Di Feisheng nightmares/headaches as past (pre Di Fortress) memories come back.

It starts slowly. Everything has been peaceful, in fact Di Feisheng can’t remember a time when he has had less to do or less stress in his life.

The three of them live in the Lotus Tower. They farm and cook, they repair what needs repairing, they add what needs adding - such a bed sufficient to accommodate all three of them on the nights where that is what they need

6. Set in same time line as Under Moonlight and Soft as Snowfall - Li Lianhua’s peanut allergy resurfaces now he’s no longer poisoned

While the bridge at Xinqiao village (新桥村) would once have been new enough to give the village its name, now it is old and in need of repair. So much so that it creaks ominously as three of them, closely followed by Fox Spirit, cross it.

Beneath its ancient wooden span the slow, wide river winds its way eastwards to the sea

7. Also set in same time line as Under Moonlight and Soft as Snowfall - basically - Li Lianhua wakes up, other parts of him are awake too - unfortunately dfs is away until and no one seems to want to give him a few minutes peace to deal with it himself.

Waking up warm and comfortable is still a novel experience after so many years of ill health. Laying cocooned and snug in his blankets, Li Xiangyi isn’t entirely sure what has woken him so early. Nothing bad at least. Neither in reality or within his mind. The fact that he’s alone in his bed this morning is less pleasing however.

8. Wuyan backstory

Hands tied together he stumbles along with the other boys that have been taken (stolen, ripped away, seen them slaughtered) from their families and homes. He’s one of the older ones at eleven, but he’s always been small for his age and can easily be thought a year or two younger. It’s this that has kept him alive

9. Sea in Storm (au from East Sea battle - dfs becomes aware lxy is poisoned during the fight)

The sword pierces Li Xiangyi’s shoulder, but he doesn’t stop. Di Feisheng pushes it in further, keeping him down on the rain soaked deck, trying to get him to admit defeat. It’s wide blade and the damage it will cause will be severe were to go all the way through, but Di Feisheng knows that if he is to subdue Li Xiangyi, to make him stop long enough to both admit defeat and to listen to what he’s got to say then it will need to be.

10. Untitled (a couple of months or so pre study arc, Lan Wangji accidental sees Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue)

He hadn't meant to see them. He truly hadn't expected anyone to be down at the cold springs, not with night having fallen and the moonlight only just starting to spill silvered light through the trees and onto the water.

There on the water's edge, their bare skin illuminated in the soft light are his Xiongzhang and the young leader of the Nie sect.

-- Patterns

having a clear location where things are happening

rarely any dialogue in first paragraph

As a lot of people have done this one, I'll leave it as a free tag for any one who wants to have a go.

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

Could I request number 25 for Kazuha? His body has warned him that his alcohol tolerance is pretty much nonexistent, but he still makes the mistake of drinking too much with Beidou and her crew, and now he's horribly hungover~

Thank you for the request, anon! I had way too much fun with this one!

Prompt 25 — You've been warned (by your body)

-------

Kazuha awoke to his head pounding fiercely, a merciless throbbing seemingly attempting to drill into the side of his skull. Instinctively he tried to roll over and pull the covers up over his head to try and shield his sensitive eyes from the sunlight glaring in through the tiny window. Much to his surprise, Kazuha found that he was not in fact lying in bed. Instead he was sprawled out on the wooden floorboards of his quarters, the bed several feet away from his. Various aches and pains sprung to life in his limbs as he tried sitting up, aggressively complaining about the night spent on the floor.

Groaning softly, Kazuha put a hand over his eyes. The smell of alcohol flooded his nostrils, while the room seemed to sway — He couldn't tell if the ship was actually swaying, or if it was his own head swimming.

Kazuha's alcohol tolerance wasn't fantastic. He was a lightweight, to put it simply, and because of it he's avoided drinking at all with the crux fleet. There was no shortage of alcohol aboard the Alcor, so Beidou and her crew had frequent late night parties out at sea during their voyages. Usually Kazuha did not partake.

Usually.

His memories of the previous night were foggy, but Kazuha could still vaguely remember Juza's repeated invitations for him to join them on the deck with a freshly opened bottle of booze. He assumed one drink couldn't hurt, but somewhere that became two, and then three… Kazuha lost count after that.

Kazuha longingly looked over at his bed, wanting nothing more than to bury himself beneath the blankets and hide away from the world in a dark cocoon, until the hammering in his head had subsided. The mere thought of getting up from the floor turned his already squeamish stomach, and Kazuha resorted to burying his face back into his arms instead. His mouth was dry and he could still taste the remnants of the alcohol on his tongue, which only added to the nausea.

A couple of hiccups forced their way out of him, and Kazuha's face scrunched up when the last one brought a fresh, bitter taste to his mouth. With no regard for how pathetic he probably already looked, Kazuha simply stuck his tongue out, allowing the excess saliva to trickle down his chin and drip onto the floorboards. It did little to relieve his discomfort, and he hiccuped again.

The mere thought of getting up was daunting, but Kazuha was desperate for a breath of fresh air. The smell of alcohol lingering in the room was overwhelming to his sensitive nose. Swallowing down another hiccup, Kazuha stiffly pulled himself up into a sitting position, immediately reaching up to rest his forehead in one hand when the movement had him seeing stars. His head felt so unbelievably heavy.

It took several minutes before Kazuha managed to heave himself to his feet, staggering dizzily. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, swallowing thickly when more saliva pooled in his mouth. This was followed by an increasingly wet hiccup, and Kazuha's stomach gurgled unhappily.

When the worst of the alcohol-induced daze in his head cleared, Kazuha took a few staggering steps towards the door, fumbling as he tried to open it. His movements were still somewhat uncoordinated, clouded by the incessant pounding inside his head.

The ship was quiet — the vast majority of the crew likely passed out in their own quarters, sleeping off the previous night's drinking. Kazuha took a desperate, deep inhale of fresh air once he was above deck, grateful for a moment's relief from the smell of alcohol tormenting his senses. The early morning sky was painstakingly bright, the sudden change of light seeming to burn into Kazuha's skull through his eyes. He meekly tried to shield his gaze with one hand, looking around with bleary eyes. In his hungover state, Kazuha had forgotten that the Alcor had docked at a small island not far from Liyue, the previous day. Suddenly his need for fresh air was drowned out by the newfound desire to get his feet back on dry land. The rocking of the ship beneath his feet, although familiar, was doing his stomach no favors.

Kazuha kept his hand on the wooden railing as he made his way down from the main deck, knuckles white from how tightly he was grasping it in an attempt to keep his fragile balance. Once he was on solid ground, Kazuha didn't bother trying to keep himself upright anymore, promptly letting himself sit down on the ground. Even with the swaying ship no longer beneath his feet, the world still seemed to slowly be rocking from side to side. Kazuha closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe through the nausea.

His stomach suddenly decided it had finally had enough, and Kazuha's shoulders lurched forward. Instinctively he tried to stop it, only succeeding in vomiting into his own hands. His stomach caved in again and Kazuha managed to get on his knees so the next wave ended up on the grass instead of his own lap. His back jerked violently as his stomach forcefully emptied itself.

Kazuha coughed harshly, spitting onto the ground. He gagged emptily over the vomit on the ground, feeling his stomach muscles throb of the exertion.

When it felt like the worst was over for the moment, Kazuha pulled himself away from the puddle of his stomach contents, allowing himself to collapse onto a dry patch of grass. He draped an arm over his eyes, unphased by the vomit still coating his hand up to his wrist. The vomiting had brought him some relief, although the hammering in his skull remained. Every muscle in his body felt weak.

Kazuha let out a slow, wobbly breath. Never, never, would he let Juza talk him into drinking with them again.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Confessions of an Imperial Concubine

Chapter Eight: For the Thrill of Your Touch

AO3 Author’s note/glossary/info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

Never wanna leave this bed; tell me that you got nowhere to be. Can we stay all day? Lay low in our lazy luxury; sex in a rosé daze, all day, it’s a real good thing.- All Time Low, Sleeping In

Sera awoke slowly, cocooned in warmth and a delicious scent that made her want to burrow further under the blankets and live there. She was nestled against a bare chest, and upon realizing this, the previous evening came rushing back to her in a wave of recollection. Paul kissing her, touching her, holding her, moving inside of her, telling her she was his and his alone, that he’d never let her go now that he’d had her.

He was beautiful when he slept. He looked peaceful and content, almost boyish. Sera wasn’t entirely sure how long she lay there staring at him before she forced herself to sit up, slowly extracting herself from his arms in the process. 

She recalled his words from the night prior, how he'd said that he wanted her to share his bed with him. The thought was massively exciting; she wanted to gather her belongings and move them into his chambers as soon as possible.

She stood, put her dress and shoes back on, and walked towards the receiving area in his suite of rooms. She paused to glance back at Paul's sleeping form, smiled softly to herself, then made her way to her soon-to-be former bedroom, practically skipping the entire walk there.

She began to load her belongings into boxes and stack them by the doors. She was on her third box of books when Lucia barged in.

“Sera!” her friend exclaimed in shock, circling around to stand before her, slightly behind the bookcase. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back last night? I was so worried about you!” After glancing around, she added, “And what’s with all the boxes?” Then she gasped, her mouth falling open. “Did the Emperor do something to make you leave?”

“What?” Sera asked in surprise. “No, of course not! Actually, I’m, um...” She gulped nervously and was about to continue when the doors opened a second time. Lucia, who stood behind the bookcase and out of the newcomer’s view, watched with wide eyes as they entered the room and strode towards Sera.

Sera felt familiar arms wrap around her waist, an equally familiar scent filling her nose. One of Paul’s hands slid up her stomach, his palm brushing slightly against the underside of her breast as he leaned down to press slow kisses to her throat.

“What are you doing, darling?” he wanted to know. “There’s no need for you to handle all of this yourself. I’ll have someone take care of it for you. We have to pick out your necklace later, and I want more time with you until then.” Another kiss to her neck. “Come back to bed.”

Sera flushed bright red, staring at Lucia with wide, embarrassed eyes. Before she could say anything, however, her friend moved from behind the bookcase and cut in, “Uhhh… Sera?”

Paul froze, slowly raising his head to look at Lucia.

Sera grimaced and turned around in his arms. “Can I… can I have a few minutes?” she asked hesitantly.

Paul stared at her for several seconds before speaking. “And then you’ll come back to bed?”

She bit her lip, smiling up at him nervously and shifting from one foot to another. “If you want me to.”

A slow, lazy smirk spread across his ethereal features. “Yes, I very much want you to.”

She glanced down briefly at what little space was between them. “I’ll be right there, then.” Gathering her courage, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek swiftly.

Just when her feet were flat against the floor once again, Paul gently took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, murmuring, “No, Sera,” and leaning down to kiss her slowly, passionately. She sighed with contentment and responded in kind, and just when she’d begun to do so, he pulled away from her again. “Soon?” he asked softly. When she nodded, unable to speak or even breathe, really, he smirked again. “Good girl.”

With another kiss to her lips—this one quick and chaste—, he turned and left the room without another word.

Sera stared after him in frozen silence for a moment before Lucia’s voice rang out, “What the hell was that?”

Slowly turning back towards her friend, Seraclasped her hands in front of her, wringing them anxiously. “Well… that is to say… I’m a Hetaera now.”

Lucia blinked at her. “You’re a what?” she asked, gaping. “Didn’t you not want that? I thought you hated him!”

Sera glanced over her shoulder to make sure the doors were shut firmly, and then she whispered, “Please don’t say anything, because he doesn’t know and I’d like to keep it that way, but… I’m in love with him.”

Lucia gave her a blank look. “You’re in love with him,” she echoed. It was a statement rather than a question.

Sera nodded, chewing her lip awkwardly.

“You, uh…” Lucia trailed off briefly. “You know what he’s done, right? Isn’t that why you tried to kill him in the first place?”

“Yes,” Sera admitted, “and to be honest, I’m still disgusted with those aspects of his life and his past, but I love him anyway.”

Her friend examined her face closely before saying, “A Hetaera, then.”

Sera nodded. 

“Okay. What’s with all the boxes? Since you’re not leaving, I mean.”

Here we go, Sera thought anxiously. Another big reveal.

“He wants me to sleep in his chambers with him,” she explained softly.

“That’s…” Lucia paused. “That’s definitely never been done before.” Then, “You’re sure that’s what you want?”

Sera nodded again.

“And you’re okay with him continuing to be involved with the others?”

Blushing profusely, Sera confessed, “He’s promised he won’t sleep with anyone but me, actually.”

Lucia raised her eyebrows skeptically. Everyone knew that that had never happened before.

“Okay,” her friend said slowly. “As long as you’re happy, I suppose.” Then, after a moment, she asked, “How did this even happen?”

Sera swallowed her spit. “Remember when I came back from Beakkal a few months ago?”

Lucia nodded.

“Well, he gave me a dagger as a present, and—“

“He did what?” Lucia cut her off, looking shocked. Such presents were unheard of, evidently. “Show me.”

Sera retrieved the gift and handed it to her friend, who examined it closely before looking back up. “He gave you a jewel-encrusted dagger as a gift?”

Sera nodded.

“Wow. Okay.”

“And, uh.” A gulp. “And then he tried to kiss me.”

Lucia blinked at her again. “He tried to kiss you?”

“Yes,” Sera confirmed. “I ran. He actually kissed me awhile ago, too, and I kissed him back that time, but I ended up running then, too. Eventually, though…” She took a deep breath. “Eventually, my feelings for him got to be too much, and when he made it clear he wanted to kiss me again last night, I let him, and then we… well…” she trailed off, blushing and looking resolutely at her feet.

Lucia continued to stare at her for several long seconds of silence. “So,” she finally spoke, “my best friend has experienced the Imperial Cock. Huh. Wild.”

When Sera returned to Paul’s bedchamber later on, she was grabbed the second she stepped through the doorway. She didn't even have time to take in the wardrobe that had been placed in the room, or all of the already-unpacked boxes of her things.

Finding herself pressed up against the wall with demanding lips on hers, she was shocked at first, but she soon recognized that kiss, that scent. She recognized the feeling of those long, slender fingers making their way underneath her dress and up her thighs.

“I missed you,” Paul said lowly against the flushed skin of her throat.

“You saw me less than an hour ago,” she pointed out.

“And that, my darling,” he began, “was far too long. I don’t want to wake up without you next to me again.” He pulled back then, cupping her cheek and thumbing her lower lip. “Am I understood?”

Blushing furiously, Sera whispered, “Yes.”

He smirked. “Good girl.” With that, he resumed kissing her neck. “Come back to bed. I want you beneath me again.”

“Yes, please,” she whimpered. He’d begun to rub his knee against her core, bare beneath the skirts of her dress. “Oh, Paul, please—“

“I know,” he crooned softly, leading her back to the soft bed she’d awoken in that morning. She’d first given herself to him there, and she’d do it again. She was going to do it again. She wanted to. Desperately, in fact. “I’ll give you what you need. Undress.”

Her blush deepening, she obeyed without looking up at him, focusing on the motions of removing her clothes instead.

Paul didn’t seem to like this—her not looking at him, that is—very much at all, because he gripped her chin with firm, gentle fingers, encouraging her to look up at him, and said, “Why so shy, lovely one?”

Sera didn’t answer at first. She let her dress slide down over her breasts, her hips, then stepped out of it when it pooled at her feet.

“I want this with you,” she admitted quietly. “I’m just… I don’t know. You make me nervous, I suppose.”

She didn’t have to look at him to hear the grin in his voice when he spoke. “I make you nervous?” he hummed softly. “There’s no need for that, darling. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” 

He stared intently at her as he undressed, never once taking his eyes off hers, not even for a second, and when he was completely nude, he said, “Let me pleasure you.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, ever so slowly, Sera nodded once, and then Paul was on her, kissing her with ferocious hunger. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down towards her, just as desperate for him as he was for her, and then she was being pushed backwards onto the bed. She stared up at him with wide eyes as he climbed up after her, caging her in with his arms.

“Do you know,” he began softly, brushing her hair from her eyes, “what I am very much looking forward to?”

She shook her head.

“I,” he went on, “am greatly looking forward to introducing you as my woman, for you to walk into a room by my side wearing the unmistakable dress of a Hetaera, covered from neck to calf in bruises I left on your skin to mark you as my own. I’m looking forward to being able to pull the panels of your dress aside and push myself inside of you, fucking you until I’ve had my fill.” After a moment, he added, “Not that I think I’m capable of having my fill of you, of course.”

“Paul,” Sera whined suddenly. He paused, looking at her in askance. “When can we…” she trailed off, gnawing on her lip. She was quite nervous to ask what she wanted to ask.

“Tell me,” he prompted gently, sweetly, kissing her neck in much the same way.

“When may I have your baby?” she finally asked, hesitant and terribly anxious.

Paul froze, his roaming hands ceasing their movement. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back from her and spoke. “You… you want to? Sooner rather than later?”

She nodded silently, blushing bright red.

“We don’t have to do that now,” he assured her gently, looking pleased but somewhat embarrassed. “We can wait as long as you want. There’s no rush. We don’t ever have to if you don’t want to—“

“I want to,” she interrupted hastily.

“You do? You’re sure?”

Another nod.

“We can wait,” he told her again. “I don’t want you to end up changing your mind or regretting your decision.”

Sera gnawed on her lip anxiously and took his hand in hers. “You can see the future, right?” she asked softly. When he nodded, staring down at her wordlessly, she went on, “Then what do you think? Do you think I’m going to regret it?”

She was fairly certain of the answer, but she wanted him to understand, too. She just hoped he wouldn’t catch on to precisely how deep her feelings for him ran.

After nearly a full minute of him staring unblinkingly into her eyes, his face split into one of those breathtakingly youthful grins of his, and he cupped her cheeks with his hands and kissed her soundly.

“S— so will I regret it?” she stuttered out between kisses.

“No,” Paul informed her, the word vibrating against her lips. “No, you most certainly will not.”

“Then… when can we…?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, kissing her hungrily. “As soon as you’re wearing a necklace signifying just how much you belong to me. I don’t want anyone to doubt whose baby you’re having.”

“Please,” Sera whined impatiently, unable to help herself. “I want you to get me pregnant now. I want your baby. Please, Paul.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, sounding very pleased by her desperation. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t sure whether to pout or glare at him, so she did both.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded with soft laughter. “I don’t think I’ll be able to let you out of bed once we start, so…” he paused with a smirk, then stood from the bed. She averted her eyes; Paulwas far too casual with his nudity. “I had Alexandra organize your things for you, so they should all be in their proper places— where do you keep your dressing gowns?”

Sera sat up, supporting herself with one hand and lifting the bedsheet to shield her torso from view with the other. She gulped anxiously when she saw him glance back at her and frown as he noticed her covering herself. Before he could object, she said, “In the bottom drawer of the wardrobe next to the nightgowns.”

His frown morphed into another self-satisfied grin. “Very well. You won’t be needing nightgowns any longer, however.”

She stared at him unblinkingly. “W— what?”

Paul opened the drawer in question and retrieved one of her dressing gowns. “Indeed. When you sleep in our bed, sweet girl, I’m afraid I must insist you be nude.”

Our bed, she thought to herself in awe. He said our bed.

She flushed from her hairline to her collarbones but chose not to speak as he strode back over to her.

“This, however,” he went on as he handed her the folded garment, “I’ll allow, but only because I refuse to let any man but me see your body.”

Her flush deepened, and she fixed her gaze on the floorboards as she wrapped the dressing gown around her body, tying it tightly at her waist. Paul gripped her chin with gentle fingers once the fabric was secure, lifting her face to his.

“Still so shy,” he murmured softly. “Worry not. That will be remedied soon enough.”

Paul only bothered to pull on some trousers. After he’d voiced his intent to instruct the servants to bring all emerald Hetaera necklaces to his room, Sera had pointed out that it might be a bit awkward for the servants if he was entirely naked. The trousers were slung so low over his hips, however, that she found herself fidgeting anxiously.

He’d insisted she remain in bed, so she sat between his long legs with his arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her neck.

“I instructed the dressmaker to start on your new clothes,” he told her, his soft words vibrating against her skin.

“A— alright,” she stuttered.

Then there was a knock from the receiving chamber.

“Are you ready for them, my dear?” Paul prompted gently.

“Oh, um.” A swallow. “Sure.”

He smirked against her skin. “Then tell them.”

He was… giving her leave to allow or disallow people from his bedchamber— the imperial bedchamber?

“Go ahead,” he encouraged before resuming his ministrations.

Sera swallowed again but managed to project her voice enough to say, “Enter…?” It was, however, more of a question than a command. She’d never quite gotten used to having people wait on her, and now she was telling servants to enter the imperial bedchamber, of all places.

Several servants came in with displays of various necklaces that would sit high on her throat. Each was elaborate and set with glittering emeralds, sometimes other stones and jewels as well. The servants blanched at the sight of them in bed together—and presumably the intimacy of Paul’s embrace—, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Pick one,” he murmured to Sera, nibbling softly on her neck. It took a few minutes, but she eventually selected one she liked a great deal. It went very well with the hand chain that currently lay on a table beside the bed. The two were placed next to one another, and she decided she’d have to admire the necklace more closely at a later time. 

Mere seconds after he’d dismissed the servants and the door had shut behind the last of them, Paul slid his hand beneath the neckline of Sera’s dressing gown to squeeze her breast and pinch her nipple, his other hand untying the sash with deft fingers. 

“You were so needy half an hour ago,” he crooned softly in her ear as he slid the silky fabric from her shoulders. “I want to hear again how badly you want me, that you want to have my children.”

He cupped her breasts, squeezing and kneading them and lightly twisting her nipples as he took the skin of her neck between his teeth and sucked on it gently. A noise erupted from her vocal chords— something halfway between a moan and a whimper, and he trailed a hand down to slide his fingers over her heat.

“Tell me you want me,” he prompted again between kisses to the fresh bruise he’d given her, pressing a gentle finger against her clit.

Sera moaned again, arching her back and leaning into his touch. “I want you,” she whined. “Paul, I—“ she cut herself off on a moan when he started to rub her clit in earnest.

“That feel good?” he questioned gently. She nodded, the movement abrupt and jerky. Her eyes were clenched shut, her chest heaving as that delicious tingling sensation he was so good at bringing forth within her spread across her body. 

“Fuck,” he groaned against her skin as she trembled. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Her legs shifted further apart, and he plunged two fingers inside of her, making her lose her ability to keep her head upright, and it fell back against his shoulder. He kissed her temple softly and murmured, “So wet for me already, hm?”

Sera’s fingers clenched the silk fabric of the sheets, her hips nearly lifting off the mattress to meet Paul’s touch. She panted, her chest heaving and stomach fluttering. He continued to pleasure her, and with each delicious rub of her clit, she felt herself hurtling closer and closer towards that cliff he seemed to so enjoy pushing her off of. His free hand kneaded her breast, and he kissedher temple gently, his fingers never ceasing their movements.

There was that tightening in her stomach again, and he must’ve known about it because he said, “There you are. Cum for me, darling.”

“P— Paul,” she whined pleadingly, her desperation so thick it could be felt in the air.

“I know,” he encouraged with another kiss to her temple. “I know. Cum for me.”

With that, she erupted, spasming around his fingers with a gasp. His fingers stilled, but he let several pulses run throughout her body before he removed his hand.

Sera was still panting, her mind reeling and world tilting, when she found herself on her back with him kissing her again. She wasn’t sure when he’d taken his trousers off, but he had, leaving his skin exquisitely bare against her own.

He spread her legs with gentle hands at her knees before settling between her thighs, pressing himself up against where she was so desperate for him. She was fairly certain she’d die if he didn’t touch her, didn’t get inside her.

She opened eyes she couldn’t quite recall having closed only to find Paul staring down at her, a soft smile gracing his heartbreakingly beautiful features.

“Wh— what?” Sera asked uncomfortably.

“Nothing,” he told her with a slight shake of his head, his curls falling in his eyes. “I just like looking at you.”

She flushed bright red, unsure of how to respond to such a thing.

“Something wrong with that?” he prompted, a grin in his voice.

“I suppose not,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’m just… unused to having people look at me the way you do.”

Paul lowered himself to his elbows with a soft hum, bringing him that much closer to her. He reached up and brushed some errant strands of hair from her face. “And how do I look at you, lovey one?”

Her blush deepened. “Like I’m worth looking at.”

He paused briefly before leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Do you think you’re not?”

Sera grimaced. “I think I’m… normal,” she answered truthfully. She didn’t think she was anything particularly special, but she knew she wasn’t ugly, either. She thought she was rather ordinary-looking.

Paul frowned. “You,” he began pointedly, “are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“It’s true,” he insisted with a soft chuckle at her skepticism. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” she said slowly, her breath hitching when he began to rub himself against her.

“But you don’t entirely believe me, either,” Paul finished for her. “Well, Sera, I regret to inform you that you are sorely mistaken. You are the most lovely creature I have ever seen.” Before she could respond, he pushed into her with a groan. “And the way you feel— so warm and wet and tight, so perfect around me.” He began to rock his hips into hers, and she inhaled sharply at the sensation. “I think you must’ve been made to take me.”

She nodded vigorously in agreement, beginning to lift her hips to meet his.

“That’s it,” Paul encouraged lowly. “Show me how much you want it.”

Sera did so, bracing her feet on the mattress and meeting his thrusts, her breath coming in short pants. He looked so beautiful hovering over her that she thought he couldn’t be anything but divine; his hair hanging in his face, his jaw tense, the muscles of his arms flexing as he moved within her.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed, driving into her a bit harder. “You look gorgeous beneath me.”

Sera ran her fingertips along the muscles of his chest and arms. He was by no means bulky, but she found she quite liked that about him. She could feel his ribs, each indentation of bone, and he was so flawless, she thought, that it was like he’d been designed specifically to be an example of physical perfection.

“Yes,” Paul encouraged, leaning down to kiss her. “Yes, touch me.”

Sera reached her arms around him in response, holding him close as he sucked her tongue into his mouth and reached down with one hand to hold her hips still. He cupped her cheek with his other hand, and she threaded her fingers into his hair, moaning into his mouth. He was stretching her so deliciously, so exquisitely, that she thought she might go insane, and yet she still craved more.

“You feel so good,” she gasped out when he began to suck another bruise into the skin of her neck and kiss it repeatedly once he was satisfied with his handiwork.

Is it always like this? she wondered dazedly.

“No,” Paul answered her thoughts. “No, it’s never like this. Only with you.”

She attempted to lift her hips to meet another one of his thrusts, but he was still holding her down, his fingers digging into her flesh. “More, Paul,” she begged, her voice almost a whine. “I need more.”

“I know,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck. “Fuck, I know.”

She still had her arms wrapped around his neck, wanting him as close to her as he could possibly be. The hand that had been cupping her cheek trailed down to squeeze one of her breasts, and Paul rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, kissing her throat and driving into her more harshly with every thrust.

“I want your baby,” she pleaded. “I want you to put your baby inside of me.”

“Sera—“ he groaned. “God, you—“

“I want it,” she whined needily. “Get me pregnant, Paul, please—“

“Yes,” he practically growled, propping himself up on his elbows so as to kiss her and take her lower lip between his teeth. “Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of seeing you swollen with my child for years, watching those perfect fucking tits leaking milk because of how I made you mine.”

“P— Paul, please,” Sera whimpered breathlessly, rolling her hips up to meet his thrusts eagerly.

“Yeah?” he smirked. “Is that what you want, darling?” He was holding her hips down again, fucking her in earnest now, his pelvic bone digging into hers with his thrusts. “You want me to fill you up, put my child inside you, make it clear who you belong to?”

Sera nodded jerkily, clenching her eyes shut without meaning to. “Yes, please.”

“Bad girl,” Paul scolded gently, cupping her cheek again. “You look at me when I’m inside you, understand?”

“Yes,” she gasped, forcing her eyes open. 

Paul was looking at her intently, the blue of his eyes glowing in the low light of the room. “There you go. Watch me fuck you,” he encouraged.

She reached up to touch his cheek and trace the sharp line of his jaw with her fingertips, loving his deliciously crude words and the way they made her clench around him. In response to the affectionate gesture, he smiled down at her sweetly, softly, almost lovingly.

His thrusts were rough, and the way he stretched her was perfect, so perfect she thought she couldn’t possibly make it out of this alive. She couldn’t possibly survive without him inside her.

Suddenly, Paul grasped her wrist and pulled her hand down to where they were joined. “Feel,” he commanded sharply. “Feel us.”

She could, and found herself torn between embarrassment and arousal, her core clenching around him again.

“Feel how well you take me,” he encouraged, burying his face in her hair. “Fuck, I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

Makes two of us, Sera thought distantly. 

“No,” Paul insisted, snapping his hips sharply against hers. “No, I’m yours. I’m yours.” He punctuated his promise by kissing her neck and squeezing her breasts. “I’ll always be yours.”

She was fairly certain that wasn’t true, but he was fucking her so thoroughly that she couldn’t formulate thoughts very well, so she accepted his words for the time being.

“Wanna fill you,” he breathed in her ear, eliciting a whimper from her vocal chords that she couldn’t control. “Wanna fill you up again and again and again until I’ve put my heir inside you, and then I’ll fill you again, until my cum is dripping out of you.”

That made something inside of her throb, and when Paul felt it, he responded by sitting up and pulling her hips up with him so her lower half was off the mattress entirely. 

His thrusts slowed a bit. “Wrap your legs around me.” She did so obediently and was immediately rewarded with sharp, harsh thrusts jackhammering into her at a downright alarming pace, and maybe she should’ve been frightened by the way he was looking at her—like he wanted to consume her, inhale her like smoke—but she wasn’t, not in the slightest. All she could think was, More, please.

Paul must’ve heard, because he growled a, “Yes,” low in his throat and pounded into her even harder.

Sera locked her ankles around his waist, savoring the way his fingers were digging into her hips as he held her up to take him, and he watched her intently as she clenched her fists in the sheets. Sliding one arm beneath her waist to continue holding her up, he used his other hand to start rubbing at her clit in time with his thrusts. She was still so sensitive from her previous orgasm that she gasped at that first touch, her back arching.

“Fuck,” Paul groaned, eyeing the way her breasts bounced from the force of his movements. “You’re too perfect. Fuck, Sera, I wanna make you cum.”

A high-pitched whine forced its way out of her, and she tightened her legs around him. “Please, I—“

He rubbed her clit faster, fucking her roughly. “Yes,” he encouraged. “That’s it. Cum for me, darling.”

“Paul,” she moaned, her walls clenching rhythmically around him, that exquisite tingling sensation beginning to overtake her. “I’m gonna—“

Another few thrusts and rubs of her clit brought her there, and she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

Sera lay there, dazed and spent, as Paul reached down to squeeze her breast. She moaned quietly at the sensation, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of her release.

“Gonna fill you,” he swore. “Give you my heir. You want that, don’t you?”

She nodded lazily to encourage him. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Paul. I want you to put a baby inside of me.”

He groaned, squeezing her breast tighter, and then he shuddered, the muscles of his abdomen tensing as he flooded her.

He released her after a moment, slowly lowering her back onto the mattress and pulling out of her. She closed her eyes and was nearly asleep when she felt a cool, damp cloth between her legs.

When she hummed softly, Paul shushed her gently. “I know, I know. I tired you out. Just let me clean you, alright? Then you can sleep.”

“Will you hold me?” Sera mumbled, wanting him close to her again.

When he spoke, she didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. “Always, darling. Always.”

A few minutes later, she was wrapped in his arms, and he kissed her on the forehead as she drifted off.

Yes, more smut. You’re welcome. I thrive on your thoughts!

Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird

To be added, please ask 💗

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature 🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Characters

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep?

Chapter tags & warnings: Inspired by Castlevania, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, POV alternating, Post-Castlevania Season III, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, Personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, Written before season IV, OC has 0 special abilities, Except for Nerve

VIII. They roam

It was the day after that he did show her where the stream was. Ravenna had at least to eat more of the foraged edibles the blond had brought her the evening prior, and so felt her strength gradually returning with each passing day. She also longed to be outside and away from this place. And though he had been quiet and overall even sparser in his words than before, Adrian agreed to take her to a place along the water to suit her interests. None spoke of how Ravenna had found him in that strange chamber the previous day, nor of what she had seen there.

When they reached the gates, Ravenna trailing after him bundled in her old clothes and cloak, the doors opened as though controlled by a higher power and daylight speared through the quietude of the reception hall.

As they came before the stairway which Ravenna had last crossed many days past during her desperate flight, she stopped when the putrid stench of decomposition hit her as a blow to the face.

She watched the dhampir descend the stairs and walk past the entrance with a leisurely gait. Ravenna frowned at the utter lack of humanity he displayed, walking so carelessly past his victims. But he never did look left nor right.

Ravenna found it hard to pass the two desecrated bodies, instead staring daggers into his back. Her heart beat in her ears again.

She saw her host stop and turn to face her.

"Did you not want to go to the stream?" he pointed out coldly. "You do need to leave the castle for it."

Ravenna blinked several times.

"Why must they hang here?" the woman fumed, though everything inside advised against antagonizing him.

"Is this scholastic curiosity or boredom?" Alucard drawled, turning back to walk ahead. "Because I wish to entertain neither," he followed sullenly.

"Fine, then stay there, buried in your cocoon of sulking silence," Ravenna grumbled as she hurried to his side, pointedly avoiding to look at the rotting corpses. She stalked ahead, her stomach lurching and roiling from the morbid display which reminded her of his unpredictable manner and actions.

Alucard grinned. This one reminded him of someone. He followed with a faster stride until he reached the woman, his long coat set on his arm. It was a warm day. "You may want to keep close. Night creatures abound in the forests here, the caves and even water places. And they are ever hungry."

"I am no mindless peasant to scare stiff with your tales, Adrian. Besides, remember my luck? It is still ripe. This could all be so much worse. At least you are not Dracula," Ravenna muttered as she walked.

"No, I am not Dracula," he said to her as Ravenna walked, purposefully not looking at him. "But I am his son," he added.

Her head snapped to the side. "You- ... " she nearly stumbled in her step. "This is a jest."

"Do I strike you as being in the mood?" he met her stare with a raised eyebrow.

He made a valid point. Ravenna studied him with a frown as they walked, having entered the forest. "...the man in the painting-, the impaled ones-" Ravenna turned from him, making a mental recount as her hand went involuntarily to her mouth.

"Here is where you are wrong, scholar. I follow not my father's footsteps nor seek to adopt his mannerisms. I think," he added smiling maliciously her way.

Ravenna narrowed her eyes at the obvious play on her primal fear, though she was indeed suddenly very, very, afraid.

And then his taunting grin was gone as if it were never there. "But they..." he paused, long enough for Ravenna to look back at him, "It was different with them," Alucard said with a frown, and the way the words were uttered sealed that line of questioning. Almost.

"Different... how?" Ravenna asked, her voice so firm it surprised even herself.

It was as though he changed before her eyes, his countenance gaining a desperate and irate streak. He lowered his head, his heavy hair tumbling forward and shielding much of his profile from view. "They were their own worst enemies."

Ravenna listened warily and wanted to know more, but her tact told her this was truly enough prodding, for now. The topic of the two had undoubtedly brought about intense distress in him. And even though he could have kept his silence and waved her off, the blond had grudgingly told her more than Ravenna hoped to hear. It was a rankling combination she discovered of him, of openness and some sort of need tainted with reclusive madness. The woman hoped she would soon regain enough strength to leave this place, hopefully with her head attached to her shoulders. Or she would attempt to, if for any reason its owner decided against it. But now he seemed more intent on being rid of her than anything else, which was good for her purposes.

They reached the stream, and Ravenna felt such relief at the sight of water she could have embraced even him. She ran to the swaying liquid mirror sparkling in the afternoon sun, dropping her cloak to pool at her feet near the bank.

Alucard followed, observing the various shades of sunlit greens and the richness of the flora. He had not been outside since... well, he could not remember. There was the buzzing of lively insects and the singing of forest birds. He placed a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the powerful reaching sun rays. His gaze then fell on the lithe frame of the woman as she undid her messy braid. Her black hair fell over her back like a dark spiderweb curtain.

"The water is warm today," Ravenna said as she dipped a now bared toe inside the stream.

"Must you keep talking?" he sighed, inspecting their surroundings. She spoke so much. Too much. Or maybe he had simply gotten accustomed to the silence. He did not know.

Ravenna prayed for a good sturdy piece of wood. "It bothers you."

"Very much."

"Good," she bit out, walking along the bank and leaving a bemused Alucard behind.

Alucard shook his head. "You've only just gotten slightly better and already your wit is returned?"

He had rarely felt this annoyed, this irked ever since... ever since his time with the Speaker and the Hunter.

Belmont. He was smiling.

"What is so amusing?" he heard her light timbre, and looking her way Alucard saw the woman already kneeling in the stream, the water gurgling around her bare shoulders. Rays of light struggled through the branches, dappling her skin and illuminating the rocky, brown-green stream bed. Ravenna tilted her head back with a groan of relief she'd not felt in ages, it seemed. Then, remembering she was not alone, she sought his gaze again.

Alucard focused on her with half a smile and half a frown, only to avert his eyes in a blink. Ravenna peered down at the water and noticed the reason; it was crystal clear. A blush crept along her neck and to her face, along with an unruly quirk of her lip. So, you do boast some manners. She swished and turned in the stream, washing her hair and body in fast motions. The water was warm, but she had just only gotten to her feet. From time to time she looked to see where Adrian was, and saw he had rounded a tree near the bank and stood with his back propped against it, facing away from her. 

As she worked Ravenna pondered on his recent reveal. Dracula. She felt significantly less safe in his proximity, but then recalled the figure of the yellow-haired woman. She had been human. She was one to love Dracula, enough to bear him a child at that. To think that such a link could even be possible between the two races...The image of the peaceful family portrait came to mind. "You said he was dead," Ravenna asked despite her better efforts to rein her curiosity.

"Pardon?" his soft voice reached her from the other side of the tree trunk.

"You..." she wavered, "You said your father was dead."

There was a pause. "He is."

"Dracula, king of vampires, is gone?" Ravenna could not help herself. "Forgive me but... but I must ask, how?"

There was the cracking sound of wood somewhere in the vicinity, but Ravenna heard nothing except the strife of his hesitation.

"I killed him."

Having said the words Alucard waited for her reaction, a bothersome feeling grinding at his insides like sand. There was nothing, and he sighed. "I had no choice," he offered tiredly, though why he felt the need to even begin to explain that whole disaster escaped him.

There was a loud splash in the water and he frowned, turning towards the stream. "Ravenna?"

As Alucard rounded the tree he felt a familiar stench assail his senses, and stiffened at the sight before him. His eyes flared red, bestial power needling under his skin.

She was being held by the face and forced down into the stream underwater, her spasms the only telling sound of her struggle.

The scaly beast holding her down seemed intent on drowning its prey, and had yet to notice him. Its size was impressive, its steel claws and greenish hide lined with poisonous scales.

"Well, well," his own claws speared forward sharply, "It appears you have a following, my dear scholar," Alucard muttered dryly.

He sprang in attack leaving nothing but a flash of red in his wake, shouldering the beast into a nearby tree to force it off Ravenna. He thrust it hard against a trunk on the opposite bank.

The three-clawed creature bellowed at him, something reminiscent of both dying calf and rabid wolf, its slime green slit eyes ascertaining its foe. It pounced and clawed at him, missing an opportunity as the dhampir dug his claws deeply into its neck, applying as much force as he was capable of.

He ground his teeth and pushed harder even as the beast's black spiked tongue swung at his face, and the blond barely tilted his head back fast enough to avoid the full brunt of its lashing. It stung, the damnable burn. It stung deeply and painfully. Even as flailing paws sunk their claws into his shoulders he ripped out its windpipe with a hiss, and a loud crack was heard before a well placed fist to its maw effectively beheaded the creature. Its claws grew slack around him as the body fell to the ground in a heap of putrid limbs.

Panting heavily and whirling around Alucard looked frantically for the woman, his eyes searching everywhere until he spotted her.

Ravenna was kneeling on the opposite bank of the stream, her breathing hitched and her eyes wild, her naked knees dirtied with mud and grass.

It was then, as the haze of battle lifted from his eyes, that the dhampir looked himself over. His shirt was torn exposing part of his scar, his hands drenched to the elbows in night creature blood and gore. Remnants of his vampiric fury still flared red and menacing through his eyes as he regained himself. She had seen it all. The thought somehow made him feel regret, but what for, he did not know.

The woman was still gaping at him, and Alucard felt pinned to the spot. It had all happened so fast. "Are you wounded?" he managed in the end.

Ravenna shook her head rapidly, still staring at him in disbelief. She appeared so shocked she had not even covered herself and sat shaking on the bank propped on her arms, her hands digging into the cold soil.

"I told you they roam everywhere."

"Your face," Ravenna spoke suddenly, pointing a forefinger at him. Then she tried to rise but thought better of it. Her arms crossed at her chest, and she fell forward with a sigh.

Alucard moved in heavy, sluggish motions, allowing the water to wash away of the blood from his hands. Perhaps he should eat something consistent at one time or another. This weakness was unusual, as normally such a foe would have posed little challenge. But now he had not been as perceptive as he would have liked, nor as fast as he would have expected of himself. With a brief sidelong glance at Ravenna he went to the tree where his coat was hung.

Ravenna started when she turned to see him kneeling to her left, the self-proclaimed son of Dracula with his scent of roses and fresh blood. She felt the coat being placed over her shoulders.

"Come," he urged, rising and aiding Ravenna to her feet.

Her gaze caught his as she straightened. "It, it looked at me and I could not move, could not speak," she hushed, and then, "You, you're wounded. Your face..." she repeated.

He looked away and led them forward, back towards the castle.

"Your face..." Ravenna repeated, and Alucard began to think she was suffering from a state of afterfright.

"I know, Ravenna. I know. It will be fine."

She fell into silence with the warmth of his arm around her shoulders, stumbling at times and walking ahead until the great gates swallowed her.

NEXT

[lunarsilkscreen]

Redesigning the mechanics of FFIX

Final Fantasy 9 is a return to form for SquareEnix. Leaving behind all the sci-fi additions and returning to an era of SteamPunk. This is before SteamPunk was a standalone concept. So it's not so heavy handed.

Noting the flaws they had with the Materia system in FF7, and not wanting every character to be caster; equipment now has levels that allow you to learn abilities from them.

Each piece of equipment having unique abilities for characters to learn.

Each of the main characters has a concept that closely aligns with a classical class concept; Zidane is a thief, Garnet a White Mage, Steiner a Knight, Vivi a black mage, Eiko a Summoner, Freya the dragoon, Quina the Blue Mage, and Amaranth a Monk.

This gets muddy when Vivi and Steiner form Team Dark Knight, giving Steiner the ability to en-element his attacks with Vivi's black magic at the cost of his own MP, and Garnet actually being a much stronger summoner than Eiko despite being the White Mage.

I think that this "Team-up" mechanic that Steiner and Vivi showcase early on, and subsequently forgotten should have had a more central role in this game's mechanics.

This would allow combo and team attacks that are very flavorful and visually interesting. It would also make the Alexander summoning seem more interesting because despite Garnet and Eiko teaming up to summon him the first time, Garnet just Solo summons him afterwards.

Combining Amaranth and Zidane to create a long range attack (throw back to Mario RPG with Bowser/Mario) would also have been an interesting way to use Amaranth's throw skill (which is limited to tossing coins at your Witcher, and junk items you were gonna sell anyway.)

FF9 is also the game that introduces the "Trance" ability. Unlike the previous iterations by having a set time period where your characters attack power is upgraded and your main character abilities temporarily upgrade.

I say "Introduced" because it's not the first time we've seen something like this, but it's the first time it's mechanically significant. An earlier version was given to [Ryder/Rydia/Lidia?] after living with moogles for a bit.

*I'm not gonna Google her name.*

And Trance an ability that one of the main antagonists figures out how to use perpetually. With the party having to fight him while he's doing so.

OThere's also Auctions, the return of the Chocobo Forest (with hot and cold mini-game,) several sprawling kingdoms to explore, the Library of Alexandria having been spirited away by Leviathan and who makes the books all soggy, and ultimately facing off against Garland and the original 4 fiends of the original game before flying off to the red moon. (Planet 9, possibly cocoon)

I'm stopping to consider the equipment/ability linkage added in order to increase the difficulty for speed runners (and the subsequently addition of Excalibur2 specifically as a reward for to speed runners)

In retrospect it's a neat little ability used to replace the Materia system we saw in FF7, as this game seems to predate man-made materia, while still having a proto-materia included with certain items.

And these "Decorations" seem to be what gives the characters their extra abilities. Basically, still referencing the slot system, while taking it away as a core mechanic.

In hindsight it limits the user to wear equipment for a certain duration while simultaneously forcing them to grind if they wish to keep the ability.

Seeing as the latest FF games have started going away from the old paradigm of grind, and feeling more *Milestone* unless you're a try hard player, this system *probably* should be updated. But to what? I'm unsure.

Maybe it should just be a list of equipment and you can equip any of a handful at a time as long as you have the AP to do so? Then you can both limit the amount per player team AND avoid needing to grind it out.

Regardless; I just really like the *team* mechanic and wish it was expanded more.

[scribblestatic]

Big Retcon to the Sonar Series History

Okay, so, after some thought, I'm going to change a little bit about the story. After all, I've been writing this for, what, two...three years or so? Changes abound.

Some elements of the previous retcon will still stand. However, here's essentially the third draft details of the story:

Project Sonar started as a pet-project on Earth to study the relationship between chaos energy and water, partially based on the power seen from Chaos and Chao and their need for access to fresh water. He was also curious about Chaos Chao and their endless lives. Chaos Chao are rare, but they had documentation of their existence by that point.

To start his studies, Dr. Gerald Robotnik used several ingredients to attempt making a subject he could test. Some of these ingredients included Mobian hedgehog cells, Mobian wolf cells, residual power from Chaos, a Chao's grey cocoon, a Chaos Emerald, and more.

He used Mobian cells because many Mobians can also use Chaos energy, and since they are recognized as sovereign individuals, he cannot study them experimentally. So, he aims to create his own Mobian who can do similar, if not enhanced, actions.

Dr. Gerald Robotnik has several Ph.Ds. that allow him to do so on his own with relative success, including in robotics, biogenetics, bioengineering, and history. That being said, his first few tries failed because no life restored within the cocoon before it faded from existence.

Because he doesn't have funding for these experiments, he goes out and collects the grey cocoons on his own. He also acquired the residual power and Mobian cells through data collection and a few well-placed "community outreach programs," in which he integrated himself into a local Mobian population by providing free medical care...during which he acquired many, many samples of "willingly donated" Mobian blood and other cellular tissues and substances.

A narrative section for this point:

He had a preference toward Mobian hedgehogs simply because one that volunteered at his community outreach center helped him collect the most samples and had been a genuinely pleasant person. Her name was Aleena, a practicing nurse with a kind disposition. She worked for him after he helped save her life after a car accident. Out of all the samples he used for testing, the ones he'd collected during her recovery surgery had been the most responsive, likely because he'd also acquired one of her ovaries.

His choice to include Mobian wolf DNA was admittedly a bit less scientific. Wolves had a deep connection with the moon, which was also intimately connected with the water. Since his studies surrounded the use of chaos energy and water together, he figured adding Mobian wolf DNA would just kinda fit. Gerald got the wolf DNA from a burly Mobian who was stoic and had a severe-looking face, but who only showed up at his clinic so much because he often got hurt helping others. His name was Logan. He and Aleena eventually fell in love, and Logan proposed to her.

Because of Aleena's accident, she lost both ovaries, one to the wheels, the other to a doctor's hands. Despite wolves being pack Mobians, he married Aleena, knowing he wouldn't have children, which was a big deal back in the mid 40s. Gerard attended their wedding, eating at the potluck after the service and clapping as they cut their wedding cake, knowing full well Aleena possibly could've had children had he not taken her other ovary.

Later on, while having trouble finding the right combination of cells, chaos energy, and Chaos Emerald exposure to create what would essentially be an artificial Chao-based Mobian, he thought of their wedding day. He also thought of how lovely it had been to attend, especially considering how much Aleena and Logan loved each other. Huh...wouldn't it be funny if he made their child in his lab? He didn't exactly have Logan's sperm, but if he did have bone fragments from one of Logan's many heroic incidents, so if he played around with the genetic code a bit, he could essentially do it anyway...

So that's what he did.

He used seven different gray cocoons and tested several genetic mixtures plus other items needed to possibly hatch his own custom Mobian specimen. Of course, he knew he was running on borrowed time since he was using gray cocoons instead of pink ones, but he didn't want too many preconceived desires or traits to color his future creation. He wanted as close to a blank slate as possible, and he was more likely to get it out of a gray cocoon than a pink one.

He could've also tried using an egg, a truly blank slate, but Chao were known to be quite fiercely protective of their eggs, so meaningfully acquiring one without gaining negative attention would be rather difficult. He wanted to at least work in the shadows to keep from gaining too much attention before it was due. Besides, if he was able to bring a Chao back from its dying path, wouldn't that be exemplary? There would be so much more to explore on that front as well.

And what do you know?

Although six of the cocoons continued to fade, one of them turned a pale, pastel pink color.

Something inside was alive, and it was coming back.

He started doing scans, measuring its growth, and everything. All the duds disappeared naturally, so he was able to put all his focus on the single pink cocoon that remained pale but grew slightly over time.

The cocoon got bigger than usual Chao cocoons, whose sizes typically don't differ much between their child and mature forms. He knew he was succeeding well when he shined a light into the cocoon and saw little bitty hands at the ends of its arms.

He waited and waited, continuing to nurture the cocoon...but one day, it started fading back to gray. Life signs were decreasing, and if he didn't hurry, 001 (as he started calling it) would die.

Dr. Robotnik began working tirelessly to mimic the environment Chao would thrive in, and yet, it continued to gray out. So, it needed something somewhere between a Chao's needs and a Mobian's needs. Mobians were generally born live instead of in eggs, so a live birth...

He considered the idea, then went forward with it.

He created an isolation tube and placed the cocoon in it, a Chaos Emerald embedded into the top of the system. He then pumped it full of water, completely submerging the cocoon and allowing the chaos energy to flow through the water.

The cocoon...changed.

The pink tone faded, turning pale blue instead and elongating into a longer teardrop shape. Over a few more days, the cocoon hardened into a pale egg-like form that remained suspended in the water, continuing to give off restored signs of life.

He just may do it...he just might!

And then...one day, he wakes up from where he was sitting at a nearby desk, hearing a tapping sound. He woke slowly, but then startles and gets up, looking over at the container.

Pale green eyes stare back at him.

A Mobian is floating in the water, the egg nowhere to be seen (watching a recording later shows that it dissolved into foam). It looks to be a cross between a hedgehog and a wolf, with fur and spines on its head. It also has a long furry tail more wolf-like than hedgehog. It's covered in blue fur, with peachy tones on its muzzle, arms, and a little upside down teardrop shape on its chest.

Its sclera are pale green, irises a stronger green.

Despite not appearing to have gills or anything that would allow it to breathe underwater, it's doing so just fine. It's also giving off a high chaos energy signature, which is likely the reason for its green-tinted eyes.

But it's a success. He's succeeded in making his own Mobian. A product that he can study as he pleases.

---

It took so much effort to grow 001, so he doesn't try taking it out of the water just yet. Instead, he installs and uses a large freshwater aquarium for his initial tests. He doesn't start with anything too strenuous--just trying to see what the little one can do and how it evolved inside the egg.

The first thing he notes is that, again, it doesn't require gills to breathe underwater. It seems to use chaos energy, as though it simply breathes and powers its cells using that method rather than breathing naturally. As such, it could theoretically survive in environments absent of oxygen.

He also recognizes that 001 has paw pads on its hands and feet, so it theoretically could survive on land. But still, better safe than sorry for the time being.

Despite being underwater, 001 also recognized and quickly learned speech patterns. It learned to recognize orders very quickly, such as moving up, down, left or right, where to wait for dinner, and others. 001 didn't really show much ego growth at first--it had a habit of staring rather blankly and didn't show much interest in doing anything but watching him. However, within a few days, its sense of self became more prominent.

It began favoring food with stronger flavors than others, and it had gained a habit of swimming quick circuits around the tank. It also started mimicking his facial expressions, trying them out on its own face, so Dr. Robotnik decided to bring in expression cards with the name of the emotions on it.

Once 001 actually managed to stiltedly repeat the word back to him and it managed to find little hidden items he placed around the tank despite its lack of aquatic features, he decided to add a codename for his pet-project.

While he would only every record data for it under SE-8A429-001, he would refer to it as Project Sonar. Though it was something of a false name, considering the study had nothing to do with locating items via sound navigation, it would at least help keep his experiment under wraps until he needed to expand on it.

[valentine-cafe]

May I place an order of Turimaus and Strawberry shortcake for a female reader who is deeply scared of both thunderstorms and heights? Maybe a bit of bloodshed added for spice? Have a good day, you two ! XD I will stop spamming your inbox for now.

. ˚◞♡ 𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓  — 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕-𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 781 talisen, rishen, alessio x fem!reader ( sep. ) ꒱how they are with a reader who has a severe fear of thunder or heights, made worse by a severe situation.

˖ ࣪ ଓ content warnings◞ accidental knife wound ღ reader falling to their doom ღ kidnapping ღ violence mention ღ 0.7k

˖ ࣪ ଓ receipts◞ we love our 781 boys they're so so soft

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍰 ꒱ links: m.list ღ guidelines ღ characters ღ lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

  ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🧁 ꒱ 𝒛𝒉𝒂𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏 ( reader accidently hurts herself due of thunder )

˖ ࣪ ଓ  talisen has always been careful with you and your fear of thunder. as someone who is easily affected by loud noises in general, he is particularly well-versed in these fields. he is able to calm you down easier. this includes him wrapping his arms around you should you be comfortable with it, nestling your head against his chest and singing softly to distract you from the loud crashes of thunder.

˖ ࣪ ଓ he always makes sure to be around you when he can see a storm incoming and even frequently checks the weather to prepare himself for possible thunderstorms.

˖ ࣪ ଓ hates not being with you during these times and has even left some voice notes on your phone that you can listen to should the time arise that he is not around while a storm is around 

˖ ࣪ ଓ on one occasion you had decided to surprise him after a long day of work and went into the dorm’s kitchen to make dinner for him when he returned. what you had not expected was the sudden collection of dark grey clouds — of which you barely even noticed with how busy cooking you were

˖ ࣪ ଓ the first crash of thunder had you jolting from your position of cutting up carrots. the action causing you to stumble with the blade and accidentally slice yourself across the arm. combined with the terror of your worst fear ringing in your ear and the pain running down your forearm, you let out a shriek fumble back into the counter

˖ ࣪ ଓ just as the cold metal hits the floor, so do you feel icy hands that wrap around you — strong arms immediately pulling you in and cocooning you. as though to shield you from the world as the thunder roars outside

˖ ࣪ ଓ “sshhh, sssh, baobei I’m right here, it’s okay, it’s alright,” the rushed, panicked whisper of talisen fills your ears as you crumble into his arms. one can only assume that he was on his way up and the sound of your scream prompted him to rush to your side immediately. so here he was, cradling your quivering form and and hushing you with his assuring voice

˖ ࣪ ଓ “breathe for me okay? one, two. . . one, two. . . there we go,” 

˖ ࣪ ଓ with both of you huddled up beneath the counter, he grabs the cloth that had been discarded on the floor and swiftly applies pressure to your wound. all while he brings your head to his chest and sings a song that he has composed for you. his free hand offering you squeezes and caresses as he manages both your state of terror and the new wound on your arm

˖ ࣪ ଓ he manages to eventually bring you down. opting for placing his noise cancelling headphones over your ears so that he can tend to your wound. always making sure to caress and squeeze at our other hand every now and then to remind you that he was right there. he stays with you throughout the storm and long after. cradling your crying form in his bed until you eventually fall asleep.

  ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🧁 ꒱ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒐'𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂 ( reader is falling to her doom )

˖ ࣪ ଓ  the medic has always understood your fear of heights and has made his duty to ensure that you avoid it in every instance that it is possible, especially when it came to the several story buildings of your university along with the general layout of nueva york. whether that be holding your hand or covering your eyes and bringing your head to his chest when the two of you are in an elevator, making sure to walk along the side of the stair railing or in general keeping you away from areas that might make you grow anxious 

˖ ࣪ ଓ  he’s always scolding people when they try and convince you that there are ways of getting over this fear. while he acknowledges that there are, he also knows how severe it is in your case, and thus would rather you not be pressured into doing such 

˖ ࣪ ଓ  he often tends to pick you up into his arms when you grow uneasy in terms of this fear. holding you close and letting you know that he is right here and that he will protect you from anything and everything

˖ ࣪ ଓ  this is the very reason that rishen was beyond horrified when during a throw-down with a villain across the city, he saw the villain grabbing a hold of a civilian and tossing them across in an attempt to deter rishen. that civilian being you

˖ ࣪ ଓ  the realisation that his girlfriend was now falling to her doom combined with the reality of your fears — your screams tore straight through his heart and he waste no time before leaping into action and diving off the skyscraper to get to you

˖ ࣪ ଓ  his heart pounds within his eardrums when he sees your frightened face. when he hears your terror-filled cries and witnesses your tears that fly into the air as you scream as though it might be your last. which it very well might have been should rishen not get to you in time

˖ ࣪ ଓ  he zips along is webs and eventually manages to pull you to him, his warm arms encasing you within his tight hold and enveloping you altogether — before he swings off to a safe place where you immediately fall limp within his arms and sob your heart out

˖ ࣪ ଓ  “hey, hey — it’s okay. I’m right here okay? I-I’m right here baby - breathe for me querida.”

˖ ࣪ ଓ  his hands cup your face and his mask dissipates so that you can see his own face. so that he can press kisses along your head and show you that he is here. that he is upholding his promise to protect you despite it all 

˖ ࣪ ଓ  “I know, I know mi cielo. shhh, you’re okay. focus on my heart okay? that’s it,” he’d bring your head to his chest and cup the back of it with his hand, massaging your scalp and bringing you down from the fear

˖ ࣪ ଓ  he of course picks you up into his arms and allows you to cling onto him. whispering a hundred apologies and promises that it will not happen again and that he’ll keep your safe

  ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🧁 ꒱ 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐 𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒔 ( reader is held captive and there is a storm )

˖ ࣪ ଓ alessio had been on a mission earlier in the day — one that had lasted until this very moment — tracking down talon members that had been reported of kidnapping people in the same area of nueva york that you lived in. he had the nervous suspicion you might’ve been taken away from your home against your own will, by talon agents that had discovered your connection to him. 

˖ ࣪ ଓ and much to his dismay, he found his suspicions were all true when he stepped into your ruined apartment. sent into disarray, the flowers he had given you earlier completely scattered on the floor along with broken pieces of your favourite vase.

˖ ࣪ ଓ it made it ever the more gut wrenching to him when he heard the stirring of rumbles from the sky. a thunderstorm was in the making and he knew how much you hated thunderstorms. he knew how it would send you into states of panic when they came around and how you would need something to cling onto, so that you could calm down. he could almost hear your loud panicked squeaks and screams already every time a thunderstorm would start.

˖ ࣪ ଓ not long after he heard the first crash of thunder, he was headed out the door of your apartment. following the movements of the talon members he was looking for on his tracker. hoping but also dreading if you were with them or not. because what would they do to you? what had they done to you? his thoughts were loud and he hated it — how they deafened the thunderstorm — because he knew that if you were out here, your panic would be so much more worse than if you had been inside of your home.

˖ ࣪ ଓ “por favor, esté bien. por favor, no te atrevas a lastimarla” he’d utter, mind running laps.

˖ ࣪ ଓ the moment he spotted your face and the fear that it was wearing. the moment he saw the first flinch — he could almost hear the first hitch in your breath as you reacted to another crash of thunder.

˖ ࣪ ଓ he could feel his left eye twitch uncontrollably at the sight of the long cut that ran down your arm. feel the anger rise within at the sight of bruises that were still forming on your body and truly, it had not taken long before the talon member were gone. painting the street dark red, blood spreading across the road from the heavy rain that poured from the sky, the only light around the both of you being the lightning strikes that lit up the dark clouds every now and then before booming thunder surrounded the both of you.

˖ ࣪ ଓ you’d think that someone who had just killed an entire group of talon members would drag you to him with firm hands. however they were anything but. it was such a gentle and strong, reassuring, warm hold that he pulled you into. wiping away the blood on his suit before covering your ears and hushing you softly.

˖ ࣪ ଓ “c’mon baby, breathe, it’s alright. i’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna be alright, yeah?”

˖ ࣪ ଓ he’d take a hold of you and carry you home, making sure to hurry you home while assuring that you were breathing properly and that when thunder struck, your ears would be covered so that the shock that ran through your cold and wounded body wouldn’t enhance any feelings of faintness.

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[imatechbummerliketomholland]

You are my world. you three are my world now - h.h

hello there! I'm back ! Sorry if it tooks so long, i have a lot of work during these holiday. I hope you like this little request. I didn't have time to be proofread (but a big thank you to@petersasteria who is always there to support me!). Remember that my native language is French, so don't be so mean if i made mistakes!

Feel free to like, share, comment and tell me what you think. Send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for my next work!

Word count: 2300 Warning: angst, mention of pregnancy, small mention of blood, mention of placental abruption Pairing : harry holland Request: yes!

ღღღ

You didn't expect to be pregnant with twins at your age. The announcement of your pregnancy had also surprised more than one. Despite her support, Nikki Holland had still given the discourse on the importance of safe sex to her son. But Harry had given a more than mature speech in defense of both of you. He was able to prove to his family and to yours that you were ready and that the decision to continue the pregnancy was not rash.

You were now at the half of your eighth month and nothing could stand in the way of your happiness.

Nothing except maybe this.

Nikki had offered to have lunch with her this afternoon. Despite his work as a photographer, no longer having the company of his four children - since three of them left the family cocoon to live their own life as grown-up adults- weighed heavily on her. You accepted with pleasure. Harry, who was editing his third short film, had left you this morning to go to the edit suite, not without checking that you were okay. So, you joined Nikki at the restaurant. You shine in your long floral maternity dress. In the middle of the meal, you felt a violent contraction.

At almost eight months pregnant, it was no surprise that you could feel twins’ movements. You winced a little at the pain and your mother-in-law put a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Are you alright, darling?" she asking, a little bit worried.

"Yeah, yeah. They've just been in great shape for a few days now."

You apologized and went to the bathroom, struggling to cope with the pain of your contractions. When you noticed that your underwear was soaked with blood, your heart rate increased. You suddenly realized that a series of symptoms corresponded to what you had dreaded early in your pregnancy: the nausea that had occurred last night, the violent contractions since this morning and now the blood. Rather alerting signals that suggested a placental abruption. The obstetrician told you that this was a possible risk since you were having a twin pregnancy. You started to cry and panic for several minutes that Nikki ended up knocking on the bathroom door.

"Darling, is everything good in there?" she asked you with her sweet and worried voice.

"Could you come in please" you sobbed.

"Sure, darling. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She stepped carefully into the disabled cabin that you had used for space reasons. Nikki immediately noticed your state of stress. And you just told her everything in strangled sobs. She put a hand behind your back and gave you a very serious look.

"We have to go to the ER. We're going right away."

"I want Harry"

"Don't worry, I'll call him on the way"

And you haven't wasted a minute. Nikki simply left her phone number and table number at the counter before you got into your car. Dom will retrieve Nikki one's later. Holland family been known from the restaurant, the staff were comprehensive about your leaving without paid the bill. When you arrived at the hospital, the nurses greeted you directly and wasted no time either. You were taken to the operating room without being able to get your boyfriend's support.

☙♥❧

Harry arrived within fifteen minutes of receiving the call from his mother. No doubt he would receive a speeding penalty ticket later. He looked like a madman, mortified by worry. He was a bundle of nerves and sarcasm. Her mother was standing by the reception desk, waiting for her. She looked anxious. Tom was there too, trying to contact their father on his phone. When Dom finally picked up, the oldest Holland brother announced the urgency. Harry was shaking with worry.

"What happened mom?"

"I don't really know, baby. We were at the restaurant and the babies kicked. She went to the bathroom and when she didn't come back, I went after her. That's where she asked me to come into the bathroom and you know the rest. I called you straight after that. " Nikki explained, trying to get the stress out of her.

"Oh my god… where is she now?"

"The medical staff took her for surgery. I had to wait here. I couldn't go with her, baby. I’m so sorry."

"Ok ... Ok, I guess I have to wait here. Hope she's okay. God, please make her be alright."

They all made their way to the operating theater hallway for the public to wait for more information. Tom was still on the phone with his father, explaining that it would be better if he stayed at home with Paddy so as not to overcrowd the waiting room. He promised his father that they would all give news as soon as possible. A nurse in a surgical gown entered ten minutes later.

“Who's the father of miss y/l/n's babies?”

“I am. Harry Holland, I’m the father!” he almost screamed and cried at the same time.

“Come with me”

Nikki stood up cautiously and walked over to the nurse. Harry was ready to follow the nurse without giving any further information to his family.

"Excuse me. Can you give us more information on her condition?" Nikki asked

"Sure. We had an emergency caesarean. The babies are fine but there seem to be some complications with the mother. The surgeon is taking care of her."

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked hastily.

"She's losing a lot of blood but we're doing our best. Now please follow me." She said to curly one.

☙♥❧

Harry followed her to the nursery. His heart was pounding in mixed emotions. He was so impatient to meet his babies but at the same time he was worried about you. What if you don't survive from the complications? What was to become of him? Would he be able to live without you? Would he be a good father?

His last question vanished when he saw his two little babies in the incubator. Your twins had arrived about fifteen, almost a month earlier than expected, it was normal that they were in an incubator. Harry was going to have to make sure they put on weight. After filling out a few papers, one of the nurses offered to do some skin-to-skin contact with the twins so that they could get to know the three of them. Harry could not but be impatient with this and once prepared he settled into a seat. He was overcome with emotion, understanding how his parents had felt when Sam and him were born. He completely forgets the time, spending several minutes with his sons, one after the other. Harry knew he would place all his love in the two little beings he had taken turns holding in his arms. He was ready to lift mountains, cross the tides. Part of his mind was on you and he truly hoped he could go through life's trials with you. May your family experience all the times they deserve.

The nurse who had brought him to the nursery go up to him with a half-smile. She was sorry to disturb him during this privileged father-son moment.

"Your ... hm ... miss (y/l/n) is in the recovery room. You can go see her now"

Harry's heart burst with relief. He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding back. The very new father nodded before placing his son in the nurse's arms so that she could put him back in the incubator. He decided to go find his family who had been waiting too long now. When he entered the waiting room, his mother and brother were still seated. Tom had his elbows on his knees, the phone in his hand. He seemed to be talking to someone. When the actor noticed his brother's presence, he spoke to him.

"Hey mate, Sam's here. Wanna talk to him? What's up? Does y/n's alright? And the twins?"

"Too much question. Give me Sam first!"

But the result was exactly the same. Sam asked the same questions as Tom and Harry winced as he tried to answer consensually.

"Hello to you too, brother. The twins are fine. I swear to God Sam, they look like a mini version of us. Two sons by the way ... y/n is fine, she's in the recovery room, I'm going see her right after that. I wanted to talk to mom and Tom first. "

"Glad to know I'm the last to know." Sam informed sarcastically.

"Hey, I was going to call you but I had to, you know ... go meet my sons. Father's job, it seems."

Sam chuckled behind his phone screen as Harry smirked in a mischievous and petty manner. He ended the call with his twin and turned to his mother and Tom. Nikki made her understand that she had heard, she seemed relieved that you were okay.

"Hey, before I go see y/n ... you want to see your grandsons ... and you, your nephew and godson, asshole."

"Harry, language" said Nikki.

"Of course I want to see my godson, stupid"

"Tom!"

The two brothers smile at each other. Just because one became a father and the other was a movie star, didn't mean they were going to change their ways. It was also their way, both of them, to decompress events. Nikki sighed in annoyance but kept quiet, too happy to meet, even only through a window, her first grandchildren. After a brief walk in front of the nursery, Harry announced that he was going to find you, leaving his family to admire your twins. They seemed so impatient to meet them in person but knew they were going to have to wait while you woke up.

☙♥❧

Harry entered the recovery room and walked over to your bed. You seemed to have already woken up from your artificial sleep. He grabbed your hand to give you the support you needed. A feeling of emptiness was felt in you, your gaze landed on your stomach, flatter than you had seen in recent months. Your eyes widened in panic but the reassuring pressure of Harry's hand drew your attention to him.

"They are fine, my love. They are fine. They are in an incubator in the nursery."

You burst into tears. The emotions being so strong.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I'm sorry ..."

“Hey… hey… you don't have to. You're okay… the twins are okay. And I still love you, I love you more than ever."

"Have you seen them?"

"Yes ... ugly like their father" he joked

You chuckled with a few more tears in your voice. You knew he didn't mean it, but humor was Harry's best way to decompress, and it worked on you too.

"My family is here. You scared the hell out of them. I think Sam was about to order a flight to kick your ass."

You chuckled again. It was so impressive to see the love that reigned in this family. You could never have asked for a better way to build your own family. Harry leaned over to kiss you.

"I love you, y/n. You are my world. you three are my world now"

"I love you more, Harry."

You stayed a few more days before you could get out of the hospital. You had decided to introduce the twins after their own discharge from the hospital. That's why, after almost a month of going back and forth to the nursery, you could finally bring your twins home. So you organized a little visit to Harry's parents.

☙♥❧

The sun was shining on London and you squeezed the doorknob of one of the maxi-cozy, Harry carrying your second son as you opened the door to the Holland family home. You were amazed at the ease with which Harry assumed his role as father. He was doing so well that you fell in love with him again.

"Is there anyone here?" He asked

"We're all in the garden, buddy!" Tom said

"You are obviously in the kitchen, dummy"

"For god's sake, Harry. Come into this fucking garden and let us see the twins!"

You let out a frank laugh as you mentally noted that you were going to have to have a conversation with Harry and his brothers about the vocabulary they were using.

You are therefore entering the garden. You noticed right away that Sam had come all the way from Scotland. Harry must have organized this with him too. You smiled, Nikki rushed over to help you with the change bags and you thanked him.

"So where is my godson?" Tom asked in the same way he did at the FFH premiere when he was looking for Jake Gyllenhal.

"Where's mine?" Sam asked too.

You approached Sam, putting the maxycosy on the table to unbuckle the seat belt and take your son in your arms. Harry was doing the same with your second baby.

"I'm happy to introduce you y/s/n"

"And there's y/s/n(2)." Harry added, so proud.

Everyone raved about the twins as you wipe away a tear, happy and proud. You were so moved by the love that reigned. Harry came to kiss you on the forehead, you closed your eyes, appeased by his gesture. The world could only turn better in his company.

"It's family portrait time!" Nikki said, her camera in her hands. "Tom, please get closer to your brother. Sam, stand next to y / n"

You all followed Nikki's instructions, who couldn't be more than happy to capture this important moment, bringing her work and family life together. You all smiled as you and Harry were in the center of the photo, carrying your twins in your arms. And at that moment, you were sure that your life could not be more beautiful than at this moment.

[ac3id]

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au. 

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount. 

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this  drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer ! 

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings. 

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

 You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated. 

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

 The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted  you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive. 

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask. 

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

 “What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

 “He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment,  all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

 “What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans  in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking? 

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

 “I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you? 

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again. 

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?” 

.

..

..

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

 “It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-” 

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land. 

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?” 

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.” 

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?” 

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face. 

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.” 

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall. 

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.” 

[helliontherapscallion]

Scientia Potentia Est (Adrenaline Junkie Part 10)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: slight PTSD, mentions of death/dying, some description of injury/scars, slight panic attack

Word count: 2,734

(A/N): how are yall liking the story so far? 

You were woken up by the obnoxious chirping of various songbirds right outside your window. Cracking open your heavy eyes, you glanced at the clock on your wall. 7 AM. You only got about an hour of sleep. Great. 

Groaning, you reluctantly left the beckoning warmth of your comfortable blanket cocoon and stretched out your limbs. You stood up and trudged towards your luggage that laid haphazardly in the corner of your childhood room. Awkwardly twisting your body around to take off the sensors attached to your back and sliding off the prosthetic, you put it on your bed. Pulling out a random shirt and pants without giving them any real thought, you shambled off to the bathroom to shower and preen your wing. 

You stood under the warm running water for a while just doing nothing but trying to wake yourself up. The steam drifted idly throughout the room as you stepped out of the shower and finished your morning routine. You still felt dead inside even after your refreshing shower. Is this what Philza felt like in the mornings? Is this what death feels like? Oh wait. You already knew what dying felt like, you’ve died twice already and you had the scars to prove it. 

The scar on the right side of your back remained prominent and very noticable, but it faded slightly around the edges. The other scar that stretched across your cheek and stretched down to your stomach was new. They were red and raised. You remembered how you got them like it was yesterday. You, your brothers, your nephew, and Tubbo were following Eret still celebrating your win. You all completely trusted him, he was your teammate after all. Trusting him was a mistake. It was foolish. That power hungry bastard blew up everything you and your brothers built and worked for. He was a traitor to L’manberg. Everyone present lost a life in the explosion.

You shuddered, remembering the explosion. You remembered the feeling of extreme heat on your skin and the deafening boom that left a ringing in your ears. You remembered laying on the ground several feet away from your brothers’ corpses. You were the last to die that day. Everything hurt as you laid there slowly bleeding out from the deep gash running from under your eye to your midsection. The plumes of smoke floated up towards the sunny sky as everything burned around you. You hoped you would suffocate from smoke inhalation before you would bleed out again. The flames licked at your skin, almost taunting you with your oncoming death. Why couldn’t you have died instantly like everyone else? Why did you always have to die painfully?

A soft knock snapped you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you realized that you were clutching the side of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white. 

“(Y/n), are you in there?” It was Arthur. What was he doing up so early?

You wiped at the tears that had gathered in your eyes and cleared your throat. “Y-yeah buddy. I’ll be out in a second.”

You turned on the water faucet and splashed some cold water in your face. It somewhat worked for the blotchiness and redness, but your eyes were still puffy. You were just going to have to get out of the bathroom and pray that Arthur and Philza won’t notice. You took a deep breath and opened the door. There Arthur stood looking at you happily.

“What’re ya doing up so early bud?”

“My brother said that I’m a morning person.”

Brother?

Despite your confusion, you did your best to grin at him. “Well, early bird, do you wanna help me make breakfast?”

His eyes lit up with excitement and he jumped up and down slightly. “Yes please! I love cooking, Mama and Papa would always let me help!”

Oh, you absolutely hated not knowing something. You needed to have that chat with him as soon as you could. 

You smirked. “C’mon then, lets go get started!”

He sprinted down the hallway and towards the stairs. You felt a slight panic flare up inside of you. “Arthur, please don’t run down the stairs!”

To your great relief, he listened and slowed down to a brisk walking speed. You speedwalked over to him. For someone so little, he was surprisingly fast. By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, he was already in the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, Philza was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. As per usual, he looked like he’d rather go back to sleep. You walked over to the coffee maker and poured yourself a cup, you were going to need it. Philza’s tired eyes followed you as you poured the steaming liquid into your mug.

“Tired?” His voice was raspier and deeper than usual.

“Yeah, didn’t get much sleep last night.” You sipped at the bitter drink before wrinkling your nose and stirring in an ungodly amount of sugar. Sipping it again, you sighed in content. That was much better. 

You walked to the chest and pulled out some bacon strips, eggs, and bread. Setting them on the counter, you turned to Arthur. He was standing on his tiptoes trying to clearly see over the counter. You chuckled, pulling a chair out from the table and dragging it over to him so he could stand on it. 

“Don’t get too excited kid, we have to wash our hands first. Then we can get to the fun part.”

Arthur scrambled over to the sink, pulling his chair along with him. Though he was extremely excited, he actually took the time to properly wash his hands. Once you both were clean, you both got to cooking. You let him scramble the eggs and butter the toast while you did the rest of the work. You didn’t want him to get burned, especially by the bacon grease. 

Cooking was quickly done with Arthur’s help and before you knew it, breakfast was already halfway done. Over the course of eating, Philza was slowly waking up and adding his own input into the conversation. You were hardly paying attention when Arthur asked you a question.

“Hey, (y/n), where’s your wing?” 

“Hm?”

“The fake one.”

Your eyes widened. Shit, you forgot to put it back on after your shower. You suddenly felt every single little touch on your amputated wing. The chair, a light breeze from the open window, the brush of feathers from your complete wing, everything. You felt vulnerable and naked without it on. You felt powerless. 

“Oh, I- must’ve forgot to put it back on again. Excuse me.”

You stood up from your chair, a screech resounding from the legs scratching against the floor. Taking care of your half-eaten breakfast, you tried to hurry up to your room as fast as you could scolding yourself the entire way for being so forgetful. So stupid. 

You locked the door behind you and saw your silver wing laying on your bed staring at you, as if taunting you for leaving it behind. You rushed to put it back on. Though you felt your muscles tense up because of the sudden cool, it felt incredibly relieving to have your wing back on. You felt whole. 

You awkwardly twisted around to fasten the leather belts around the base of your amputated wing and attach the sensors back onto specific spots on your back where your flight muscles were. You put one on your deltoid, one on your trapezius, one on both teres muscles, one on your infraspinatus, and lastly two on your latissimus dorsi muscle. It usually took you at least thirty minutes of testing the prosthetic’s movements and moving the sensors around slightly to get the placement of the sensors exactly correct, so you assumed that breakfast was over and done with ten minutes ago. 

Your wing was finally connected and fully functional, so you left your room in search for Arthur. You eventually found him in the basement in your old workshop looking through your filing cabinet of blueprints. He mustn't have heard you come down the stairs because he didn’t react. He just kept looking through your old papers, pulling a few out and putting them on a nearby crafting table. 

“Arthur?”

He jumped, the paper he was in the middle of pulling out slipped back into its place inside the filing cabinet. He didn’t turn around to face you at first, so you thought that he was just trying to catch his breath from your little scare. Feeling bad, you walked closer and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you. What’re ya doin?”

“I-I’m looking at your old inventions, Philza let me come down here to look at them while he tried to find me more clothes I could wear that fit.”

“Buddy, you should’ve waited until I put my wing back on, I could’ve shown you my prized inventions.”

He looked down to his feet. “I’m sorry (y/n), I just really wanted to see them and you were taking so long. I couldn’t wait.”

You frowned, putting a finger under his chin and making him look at you. You saw guilt darkening his eyes. “Arthur, never say sorry for wanting knowledge. Knowledge is perhaps our greatest weapon against the unknown in the universe. I want you to remember the phrase ‘scientia potentia est’.”

He sniffled. “Scientia… potentia est?”

“Yes, it means ‘knowledge is power’. Knowledge and power are two very… wide subjects, which is why I like the phrase. In a way, it means that you could pull off anything with knowledge. A lot of inventors live by that motto. Personally, it’s a motto that I swear by. Having knowledge gets me out of a lot of sticky situations,” you kindly smiled at him. “Now, do you want me to show you how my prosthetic works? I could even show you the first prototype if you’d like.”

To your delight, the smile that you often saw him wearing quickly returned and he nodded vigorously. You could get used to people wanting to know how your inventions work and why they worked the way that they did. You spent the next two hours explaining and answering questions about your prosthetic. You let him hold and examine your old leather wing. You showed him how the sensors were placed and warned him that if they were even very very slightly off, the wing wouldn’t work right. You even let him craft a sensor with you. 

“So, do you have any interest in being an inventor when you grow up?”

“Yes, I wanna be just like you! You’re like, the bestest inventor ever!”

You took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “Arthur, would you like to become my protégé?”

He scrunched up his face and squinted his eyes in confusion. “Your what?”

You lightly laughed. “Do you know what an apprentice is?” He shook his head. “Well, I want to take you under my wing. Teach you everything I know.”

His eyes comically stretched and his mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water. If it were possible, you’d imagine stars shining in his eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Naturally. You’re perhaps the most ambitious person I’ve ever met in terms of your goals, and at such a young age too. I’ve never met anybody besides fellow innovators that actually wants to know how my inventions are made. It’s refreshing in a sense. Would you accept me being your mentor?”

“I- yes! Yes, yes! A million, no, a billion times yes! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cheered, squealing with delight and jumping up and down. 

You laughed. “Woah there bud, cool your jets. We have work to do, but first…” you sighed. You really didn’t want to ruin his moment, but you needed to talk to him about this if he were to become your apprentice.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes still wide with excitement. “First what?” “First… we need to talk. About your story, I mean.”

“What do you mean? We are talking.”

“No, not like that. We need to talk about your family. And how you want me to help you with The Warden.”

He visibly deflated, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to change moods so quickly. It was almost unnatural how fast he switched emotions. “Oh… Do we have to?”

“Yes, Arthur. We have to trust each other if we’re gonna work together.”

He shifted on the balls of his feet and fiddled with his thumbs. He looked very anxious to talk about his family.

“If you want, I can show you where I go to relax and think. Would you like that?”

He nodded and wiped at his eyes. You grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. Since Philza was out, you wrote him a little note and put it on the table where he should see it right away if he came back before you two. You grabbed your satchel and filled it with two glass vials of water, a few snacks, and a blanket. Arthur just stared at you confusedly. 

You led him outside and hesitated. Should you ask him if he wanted to fly? It would be a lot faster to get there. “Arthur, would you like to fly there? I know it’s scary, but once you get used to it it’s so much fun!”

He reluctantly nodded, so you bent over and wrapped your arms around him to pick him up. You felt him tense up as you prepped for take off. “Hold on tight, I promise I won’t drop you.”

You pushed yourself off from the ground with a powerful flap of your wings causing Arthur to shriek in surprise. You and Arthur shot into the sky at a moderate speed. When you steadied yourself high above the treeline, you looked down at the boy in your arms. He had his eyes tightly closed and he was shaking slightly. “Arthur, you can open your eyes now.”

You watched as he peeked one of his eyes open and looked at you, you smiled encouragingly at him. “Go ahead, look around.” He observed his surroundings with caution before he opened his other eye. He was looking around in amazement, taking in every single detail from a bird’s eye view. You snorted before redirecting your attention back to flying. You needed to pay attention, especially when you had a passenger that would carry on your legacy after you die. 

The flight went by with Arthur giggling at various mobs below and sometimes pointing out something he thought was interesting to you. Your destination was now several meters ahead of you. Landing, you set Arthur down steadying him when he stumbled a little.

You took out the blanket and spread it across the grassy ground, smoothing it out. You beckoned Arthur to sit down next to you on it and you two overlooked the boundless expanse of the grassy plains. 

“This is where I came up with most of my inventions. It’s where I first tested my prosthetic. There’s where I jumped off.”

“How’d you know it worked?”

“I didn’t before I tested it. Looking back, it was stupid of me to do. Never, ever, do what I did.”

“What if-”

“No what if’s. Consult me before you test out anything dangerous in the future. I mean it, Arthur.”

“But I want to be like you.”

“Trust me kid, you don’t wanna be exactly like me. Besides, you’re you. You’re not (y/n) Minecraft. You’re Arthur Fox. You’re your own person and it’s important for you to understand that. Never let anyone take that away from you.”

He fell silent as he contemplated your words. You assumed that nobody’s ever told him that before, both due to his young age and potential lack of adult figures in his life. 

“Artie, you can tell me about your life when you’re ready. Take as much time as you need, we still have half the day left before we have to start heading back.”

He wordlessly nodded, turning his gaze to stare blankly past the cliff. In the meantime, you would wait patiently until he felt comfortable telling you.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added): 

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