#but maybe ill just have bone broth tomorrow

[thisbibliomaniac]

I can make soup

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #4

I'm feeling a bit under the weather today. In my world, we've had a bit of a weird sickness going on around the world for the last several years now. People jokingly refer to it as "The Plague" sometimes. But it's not really a joke, because lots and lots of people have died from it, and still more have had to be hospitalized, and still others have suffered permanent effects because of it. It's really rather scary, so most everyone tries really hard to avoid getting it or spreading it around. On the bright side, there are vaccines for it now, and tests to detect it, so that really helps a lot, but the danger isn't quite over.

I don't have The Plague, thankfully; I checked. But even if I did, I'm vaccinated, so that if I do end up catching it, I won't feel like I've been hit by a truck nearly as hard. It's about time for me to get my immunity boosted for it though, so I'm going to go do that later today. It'll be lame, because anytime my immune system gets poked by a thing that it feels like it's gotta challenge to a street fight, I get really tired. Still, feeling a bit tired is better than the alternative.

I seem to have a generic and very mild case of the sniffles. The inside of my nose feels just a little weird, and it was really only annoying for one day, and it's already a lot better; I'll probably be fully recovered by tomorrow. All the same, I thought to make a batch of my famous (it's not really famous, except amongst my closest friends, haha!) bone broth:

Ahah... I know it probably looks really bad right now, but that's because it's not all done yet! It's made of leftover chicken bones, fruit and veggie scraps, and various herbs and teas. You have to simmer it for a day or so in water with a little bit of vinegar to help everything break down nicely, so that all the juicy nutrients can seep deliciously into the water! Once it's all done with simmering, you have to use a cheesecloth to squish the water out of everything, strain it, and then season it. It'll be very good when it's ready, and the resulting concoction will lend a body a bit more strength and energy, which speeds up recovery time from illness or stress by just a little bit, and makes the waiting to become well again a bit more bearable. You can use it to make soups, make rice with it, or just drink it straight from a cup; it's good stuff!

It's certainly not like the potions and elixirs and whatnot that are available in your world, which can instantly revitalize a body, ahaha! But this sort of thing, made with love, is imbued with a very weak (but still meaningful!) kind of magic, which makes it the next best thing, in my book!

There will probably be a lot more here than I can use on my own, so once it's ready, I'll put a bunch of it in jars and give it away to my friends, if they want some. I wish I could give you a jar; I know you're doing lots of very difficult stuff where you are, and so I'm sure you could use all the passive buffs you can get! Maybe you could have a few sips, and then feel just a little happier or a little more at ease. Or maybe you could have it as a nice soup or stew; when's the last time you've eaten anything, anyway? I imagine you're being sustained by SOMETHING, but that doesn't mean that you don't need basic creature comforts like a good soup from time to time; for all your phenomenal power, you're still human after all, and you deserve nice things.

I wonder if you've ever been sick with the sniffles, or with generic gut yuck, or anything similar. I wonder if you've had someone nearby to bring you soup when you're feeling unwell. If you've not had these experiences, I hope you can have them someday; even if mild illness is unpleasant temporarily, to experience it and to be cared for in its duration is good medicine for the soul in the long term.

Tell you what: if you're ever feeling icky and you're in my neighborhood (unlikely to the point of being absolutely and utterly impossible, I know, haha! but still...), pop on by for tasty snacks, a good nap, random conversation, and wholesome stuff to do; it'll set you to rights lickety-split, without a doubt - I promise.

Please be safe out there, won't you? And remember to take good care of yourself while you're doing whatever you're doing; too many people are counting on you to allow yourself to break down from stress and overwork. And please remember to ask for help should you find yourself struggling; you might be surprised by just how many hands are willing to reach for you and lift you up.

You are loved. Please come back to us in one piece.

Your friend, Lumine

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 21

MEDIEVAL AU - Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Lady Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

For the first time in a long time, Henry dreamt of Eleanor. 

He remembered the feel of the sunlight beating down on his bare back as the two of them made love in the tall grass for the first time. He’d tried to be gentle and careful with her but that wasn’t what she wanted. 

She wanted passion. Something primal. Making love outside the confines of marriage was dangerous and wrong and it made perfect sense that Eleanor would want the experience to be intense. Looking back on it, she was probably just in a hurry.

Henry remembered how pleased he was when she first told him that she wanted him and he, like a fool, had accepted without question.

They snuck away to a hilltop where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone but grazing livestock. It was the first true day of summer. The flowers around them were all in bloom. The lovers were young and beautiful and in their prime. It was paradise.

Eleanor’s true intention, Henry eventually figure out, was to make him believe that he was the first and only man ever to touch her. Really, she’d already given in to her baser urges and gave herself to the man she would leave Henry for. 

What was Eleanor thinking when she chose to sleep with Henry? Did she feel guilty for making a mistake? Was she trying to undo it somehow? Or was it a test? Did she wish to test Henry’s abilities as a lover against those of the other man?

When she ran off with the other man, he was torn between sorrow and humiliation. He’d loved her; she’d left him. Though he was no virgin, he’d given himself to her as wholly and completely as if he were; she ran away with someone else.

Such things happened to naïve young peasant girls, not a baron’s noble son. How could he be so foolish? So stupid?

He told himself he wouldn’t fall in love with a woman again unless they were already married, but of course he broke that promise when he laid eyes on Thomasin. At least he waited to have her until after they were wed, when he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would not sever their bond as Eleanor had.

Thomasin and Eleanor were nothing alike. They were both fairly tall, but that was where the similarities ended. Eleanor had thick, dark hair and eyes so dark they were nearly black. Her skin had the slightest olive cast to it and she constantly pinched her cheeks to add more color, although she didn’t need to. She was overly concerned with her appearance.

Not Thomasin. Tom was just Tom. She didn’t care overmuch about the flush in her cheeks or the fullness of her lips. She was just herself.

Eleanor was lovely though. She was a warm, soft thing that he could lose himself in. She never lost herself in him.

That didn’t keep him from dreaming of her, though.

Henry felt guilty when he woke. How could he dream of someone else after his wife had finally confessed that she loved him – especially because she did so while begging him not to leave her behind the way everyone else had.

He always knew that he was something of anchor to her – something solid to hold on to while the world churned around her – but he didn’t know how truly important he was to her. She’d said before that he was the only thing that was left to her, but he didn’t understand the gravity of that statement.

Henry just wanted to fall back to sleep, not to face the problems today would present him with. Not to face his harsh reality. Still, he forced his eyes to open.

The room was still dark; the thick fur that hung over the window to block the chill also blocked the light from outside. 

Henry took a long moment to study the bright lines of sunlight that bordered the pelt. It reminded Henry of a battering ram hammering against the doors of a keep. It was something he’d seen several times since the Normans first made landfall back in September. The months that passed since then felt like a lifetime.

Henry turned his head toward his wife, Thomasin wasn’t beside him. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Tom?” he called toward the antechamber. The door was partially open so she should be able to hear him. “Thomasin?”

He was just getting out of bed to search for her when she came shuffling back into the room.

“Where were you?”

“I was in a cupboard in the corridor.”

“Why?”

“I had to vomit and I didn’t wish to do so in our bed.”

“That’s very thoughtful.” Henry pulled down the blankets and helped her lay down. “You should’ve woken me.” He gently pressed his hand to her forehead and then her throat. “You don’t feel feverish.”

“I am not ill.” She was reluctant to continue but the look on Henry’s face was probing. “Do you remember how I fell ill when I thought you were going to fight Lawrence?”

Henry frowned, taking a deep breath through his nose. “Your courses?” That was disappointing. Henry had planned to make love to his wife a few times before he left tomorrow, but nature couldn’t be helped.

“Not yet. Maybe God will pity us and they won’t arrive until after you’ve gone,” Tom said.

Henry offered a weak smile. 

Tom reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I cannot stand it when you look at me like that.”

“Why?”

“That’s how you looked at me when I was shot.”

Henry turned his head to kiss her palm. “If you stay safe and healthy, you’ll never see it again.”

Tom rolled her eyes but it was an empty gesture. She was still too raw to do much more than lie there and look at her husband. She was too tired to speak – and even if she could, what would she say? She felt like her flesh was peeled back and Henry could see every thought and feeling she’d ever had, laid bare for him.

“I love you, Tom,” Henry said.

“I know,” she replied. She swallowed hard before she spoke again. “I love you.”

Henry lowered himself over her and caught her up in a kiss. She whimpered when he flicked his tongue into her mouth and again when he held her lower lip between his teeth. One of his hands rose to cup her breast, which was sore and swollen from her impending courses, and he gently squeezed. She moaned into his mouth, arching her back to give him better access. He pulled back slightly with an evil grin on his face. “Are you going to vomit again?”

Thomasin whined.

Henry chuckled as he moved down her body, holding her gaze, and tugged down her nightgown until her breasts were bare before him. He’d just taken one into his mouth when a hesitant knock came at the door.

“Sir? My lord?” Jamie’s voice cracked when he spoke. He was on the other side of the door and could not see what was happening, but Lady Thomasin’s moans gave him a good idea of what was going on.

“What?!” Henry spat.

“Your brother Simon is awake.”

***

Elaine was helping Simon sip from a bowl of broth when Thomasin and Henry entered the hall. He lay on his stomach as he struggled to swallow the liquid that was essentially being poured over his face; Elaine set the bowl down and dabbed around his mouth with a handkerchief. 

Roger stood nearby, wavering on his feet. Henry bet he was on his feet most, if not all, of the night.

“Simon!” Henry called, dashing forward. Thomasin followed a few steps behind. She wasn’t sure if she would be a welcome sight to the injured warrior.

“Henry,” Simon croaked in reply. Henry knelt beside the table so Simon could see him better. “You’re looking well.”

Not for the first time, Thomasin noted how little resemblance any of the three brothers bore. She wondered if the other two brothers looked anything alike. She wagered they didn’t.

“So are you,” Henry said.

Simon snorted.

“You look better than you were before,” Henry amended. 

“Mmm,” Simon replied. “I have Elaine to thank for it.” His bandaged fingers twitched the slightest bit against Elaine’s palm as if he were trying to give it a reassuring squeeze. Henry hadn’t even noticed they were holding hands.

“That’s not entirely true,” Roger piped in. “I’m the one who set your bones.” And removed his finger.

“All at Elaine’s direction,” Simon countered. “Roger and Elaine said you married the Saxon girl. Lady Thomasin.”

“Yes, I did,” Henry said, a smile bursting across his face. He gestured for Thomasin to join him, but Simon’s eyes were already drooping shut.

“Kill him for me, eh?” he muttered. He lost consciousness a few moments later.

A beat of silence followed. It was clear who he was. 

***

Their lovemaking was so intense it was almost painful. Henry’s pace was slow but his thrusts were deep and hard. She moaned every time Henry touched her back wall.

He pulled one of her hands toward her center. “Show me,” he grunted. Thomasin rubbed a circle. The sensation was so strong it made her legs jerk. Henry smiled down at her. “Good girl.”

“Henry!” She dug her fingers into his back hard enough that Henry thought she may have drawn blood.

He held his own orgasm at bay, trying to concentrate only on Thomasin’s pleasure and beauty, but when she dug her fingernails into his thighs, trying to take him even deeper, he fell apart. 

This was never how it was with Eleanor. Not once.

***

Thomasin lay against her husband’s bare chest, a hand pressed over his heart to feel its soothing rhythm. Henry had his arms around her, and he gently trailed his fingertips along her spine. They made love hours ago but they had yet to sleep.

They didn’t make love again, either, though Henry wanted to. Thomasin was worried she would vomit on him; she told him so and that was where the conversation ended.

She insisted over and over that he sleep, since there was no telling when he’d have a full night’s rest again. But it was clear neither one would be able to shut their eyes.

“Do you think the others are asleep?” asked Thomasin. 

“Roger and Charlie might be, if Elaine is with Simon. It’s too much to hope they’re all abed,” said Henry. “Baron Edwin – William’s particular favorite I was telling you about – is probably sleeping like a baby.”

“I dislike that expression,” Thomasin said. “Babies sleep deeply but they don’t sleep well.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Henry said. 

“What about . . .” Tom hesitated. “What about Lawrence?” She exhaled deeply. “I can’t imagine him sleeping. Not ever.”

Some of the women at court alleged that he would skulk about his castle at night back in Normandy. They said it was part of the reason his wife went mad. It was as if she were being stalked by a predator – the moment the poor woman let her guard down, he would attack. Thomasin didn’t know what sort of attack the Norman ladies were alluding to and she did not care to find out.

Henry didn’t reply to his wife’s question, just gave her a gentle squeeze.

“What do you think will happen?” she asked after a moment.

“I don’t know. But I am pleased he will be with us.”

Thomasin pushed herself off of his chest and stared at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “What did you say?”

Henry smiled slightly at her repulsion. “He’s a great fighter. Clever as the devil, too. I’d rather have him with me than against me.” Tom frowned and Henry tightened his grip on her. “Lay down with me again. It’s cold.” She did as he asked, and he tucked her back into his arms.

“Do you think he’ll try to hurt you?” she asked a moment later.

“No. Not outright. And not until we’ve done what we need to do.” Lawrence knew the others would take Henry’s side in a verbal or physical fight, and he was smart enough to put the king’s business before his own.

There was a moment of tense silence before Thomasin spoke. “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Something happy. Tell me how you got Kal.”

“We were away at a tourney,” Henry began, a smile in his voice. “Me, Nik, Simon, and our father. A serf’s dog had just whelped and he was giving away her pups – we never saw the mother,” he added. “My father took one of the pups thinking to give it to my mother to be a companion – a lapdog. I looked after him on the journey home. My mother was so pleased. She spoiled him rotten. And then he started growing.” 

Thomasin chuckled.

“My nephew wanted to keep him – he’s the one that named him – but it wasn’t long before the dog was bigger than he was. And my brother and his wife didn’t have the patience for it.”

“So you got him?”

“I was the one who picked him out,” Henry said proudly. “It was only right I take him.”

Thomasin smiled to herself. “It’s hard to imagine you without him. Did you have other dogs growing up?”

“Only hounds,” Henry said. “None like him. I don’t think there will ever be another like him.” He ran a hand through her pale orange tangles. “I’m going to leave him here with you. You need someone to argue with in my absence.”

Absence.

They fell silent again. It was impossible to ignore the rapid lightening of the sky outside. 

“I love you, Henry,” Tom murmured. “I don’t know why it took me so long to say.”

“You’ve said it; that’s what matters,” Henry replied in the same low voice. “And when I get back you can say it again every day.”

***

The five warriors stood together in the armory, selecting weapons, sharpening their swords, and dressing for battle. Outside the sky was a medium shade of blue. Roger’s eyes seemed stuck on it as he gazed across the room through a window.

Henry stood directly across from his friend as Jamie secured his chausses. “You’re quiet,” he said to Roger. “It’s unsettling.”

Roger turned his head to look at Henry. “I have an ill feeling in my gut,” he said as his squire secured his pauldron. 

“That’s just because you woke early,” Charlie said from nearby. He was watching intently as a smith sharpened his sword with a whetstone. “Or because you’re with child.”

“No,” said Roger, ignoring Charlie’s jest. “I’ve a feeling –” he cut himself off, eyes briefly flickering to Henry. Whatever feeling it was, he didn’t want to share it with his already-distressed friend and trouble him further.

“You can speak plainly in front of me,” said Henry.

Roger took a deep breath through his nose.  “I’ve a feeling something bad is going to happen.”

Lawrence was pretending to concentrate on the balance of different bows in his hands as he eavesdropped. Henry saw his ears prick.

“We all have that feeling,” said Charlie.

Roger didn’t reply, just turned his head to look back out the window. He murmured to himself, “That isn’t what I meant.”

Henry’s heart sank.

***

Thomasin stood on the parapets to watch her husband ride out. He and his companions emerged from the stables, each guiding his horse by the reins. They were too far off for her to clearly see their features, but she knew Henry’s silhouette. 

He mounted his horse and prepared to follow the others through the gates. He looked back over his shoulder at his wife, her hair loose around her shoulders. She offered a small smile and raised her hand to silently say farewell.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from weeping like a woman and soon his mouth was full of blood.

Thomasin managed to keep her composure until her husband was out of sight. She doubled over with a low moan, clutching her churning stomach. 

(gif by @demivampirew​ as per usual)

I had CRAZY writer’s block with this but I had a breakthrough. I won’t get back to posting regularly until at least the middle of October

[charincharge]

Kiss and Cry, Part 8

jurdan figure skating au > masterlist

AN: Whoops, sorry this one took a while to get out. I’m hoping it was worth the wait, though? 

Madoc was in a foul mood, and Jude knew she only had herself to blame.

She sipped at her bone broth and slunk beneath the thick blankets on the couch as she ignored the angry whispers coming from the kitchen.

Jude had never taken a sick day in her entire life. She’d once gone to practice with a fever of 102.4, insisting that she was completely fine. So, she knew Madoc’s raised eyebrow at her claiming she needed the day off due to a stomachache was completely warranted.

She should have come up with a better excuse; she knew it was flimsy at best. But, she couldn’t stomach seeing Cardan again. Not when she still couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on hers. She must be ill to be so focused on something so appalling. She felt completely out of her mind. And she knew it wouldn’t be magically fixed by tomorrow when she’d absolutely be forced back to rehearsal, but at least she could have one day off to pretend. She burrowed further into her blankets as Madoc’s voice raised again.

“We’re losing an entire rehearsal day!” he hissed at Oriana’s insistence that Jude should rest if she needed to.

Jude knew she’d have to work twice as hard the rest of the week to make up for today, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Oriana asked, placing a mug of ginger tea on the side table, as she perched herself on the edge of the couch to examine Jude’s face.

“Just tired, mostly,” Jude answered.

Oriana’s slender finger delicately traced the dark circles beneath Jude’s eyes as a prominent frown appeared on her face. She shook her head. “I keep telling him he’s working you too hard.”

“He’s not—” Jude insisted, but Oriana’s stern glare cut her off.

“If you keep going at this rate you’re going to burn yourself out.” She paused, her eyes growing wistful as she whispered, “You need to take care of yourself.”

Jude nodded in understanding. Oriana’s dreams of being a skater had been cut short, just like Nicasia’s with an unexpected injury.

“Why don’t you take that tea upstairs and rest in bed?” Oriana asked, smoothing Jude’s hair out of her face in a strangely maternal move. Jude accepted the comfort wordlessly. She and Oriana had never been particularly close – why would they? When Jude’s step-dad had remarried, someone nearly half his age, Jude hadn’t thought the marriage would make it to the end of the year. She was content to ignore the blonde completely. But here they were, nearly a decade later. “I’ll keep Madoc downstairs,” she said with a wry smile, and Jude forced herself to return it. She wasn’t sure if Oriana was being kind due to guilt or to piss Madoc off, but Jude would accept it. If only to keep herself alone for the rest of the day.

She grabbed the tea and headed back upstairs to her room. She pulled her sweatpants off, content to get cozy in her bed in just an oversized t-shirt. If she was playing hooky she was going to try and enjoy herself as much as possible. She set up her laptop and put on some mindless comedy to watch. But despite feigning sickness, Jude could feel fatigue dragging her under. Maybe she had needed a day off. Before she knew it, her eyes shut.

“Jude?” a soft voice pulled her from her fraught dreams, and she blinked sleep away as her eyes fluttered open, squinting in the mid-afternoon sun filtering through her window.

The face from her dreams peered down at her with curiosity, dark and probing, and Jude felt herself tense as she realized that Cardan was sitting at the foot of her bed.

She pushed herself upright, attempting to tame her wild sleep induced curls while simultaneously wiping at her eyes.

“Creep much?” Her voice was still hoarse from her lengthy nap. “What the hell, Cardan?”

He held up his hands protectively and smirked. “Calm down, I just got here.” He cocked his head to the side as he perused her room. “Your mom?” He asked, not knowing what to call Oriana. “Let me in.”

“Traitor,” Jude mumbled under her breath.

Cardan rolled his eyes and pursed his lips – the ones that had haunted Jude’s thoughts for the last two days. “I just had to see it in person. The infallible Jude Duarte, felled by sickness.” He chuckled as he tugged at the neckline of his thick black sweater. “I have to admit, I was relieved to learn you’d fallen ill, and that my presence wasn’t what caused you to vomit.” His lips curled into a wry smile, and Jude felt her cheeks flush unwittingly.

She grabbed at the edge of her blanket and pulled it over her head, hiding her face away from his haughty gaze. His painted nails peeled the blanket from her, tugging it down to reveal her face to his again, and it was much, much closer than she was expecting. Jude’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking down to his lips and back to his curious eyes again.

He tugged at his dark hair and sighed. “I know you’re not sick, Jude,” he breathed.

Jude couldn’t be looked at like that anymore. There was something about his gaze that managed to see through her always. She reached down and pulled the blankets over her head again.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked, his fingers dancing along the edge of her shoulder, through the blanket, slowly creeping up, letting her know he was headed to pull it down again.

“Because I kissed you,” Jude finally grumbled from beneath her comforter, and she frowned as Cardan tugged it down again, a pleased smile across his face as he leaned even closer to her.

“Oh.” Cardan stated, leaning impossibly closer to her face, his nose just a hairs breadth away hers. “Is that all? I get kissed quite a lot, you know,” he smirked.

“Exactly,” Jude huffed.  “It’s embarrassing.” She sighed, scrunching her nose in discomfort. He was too close.

“Why?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Jude admitted, her stomach swirling with nerves.

“Is that so?” Cardan asked, his eyes alight with desire as he let his nose brush against hers. Jude gulped. “I don’t blame you,” he said, his warm breath fanning across her face. “It was a very memorable kiss. One of my favorites.”

“Shut up, Cardan,” Jude said, and brought his lips down against her in a hard kiss. Their noses mashed against each other, until there was no room between them. Jude’s hand knotted in his dark hair, tugging him impossibly closer, and Cardan groaned, opening his mouth to her as Jude relished in the waves of desire that prickled across her skin.

This. This is what she had dreamed about. What set her on edge, feeling completely unhinged. What had kept her stomach in knots for the last forty-eight hours.

And when Cardan’s tongue softly brushed against hers, so starkly different from the harsh pressure of his lips against hers, Jude felt as if she’d been lit on fire.

She gasped for air, needing a break from the ceaseless feeling of drowning, but Cardan didn’t cease his affections. Instead, his mouth trailed across her cheek to wrap around the sensitive skin of her ear. She mumbled out something between an “Oh” and an “Ung,” – something so unintelligibly pleasure-filled that she could feel Cardan smile against her as he let his teeth nip at her skin.

Her hands trailed down his torso, pulling him closer until he was sprawled out above her, somehow kicking the comforter down until it pooled by their feet, revealing her bare legs and comfortable underwear, her t-shirt having ridden up around her stomach.

Cardan hovered inches above her body, and she inhaled deeply as his hand ran up her calf, bending her leg at the knee. His curious fingers swept in small circles down the side of her thigh, until they reached the band of her underwear. She shuddered softly as the tip of his finger edged beneath the elastic, just barely touching her where she’d never allowed anyone but her own hands before.

There was a pregnant pause between them, and Jude held her breath as his eyes seemed to ask the question, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

“I still hate you,” Jude said suddenly, breaking the thick silence that hung between them as Cardan’s hands perused her body. She expected his ministrations to pause, but he simply grinned, his eyes boring down on her, sparkling with amusement at her words. “And if you gloat about this, or tell a single soul, I’ll have you killed,” she added, heart pounding wildly at the gentle feel of his deft touch.

Cardan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, a nervous tick that betrayed his outer confidence. “I don’t doubt that for a second, my sweet nemesis.” His voice was low as his fingers slipped further beneath the fabric of her underwear, never stopping swiping back and forth against the sensitive skin of her hip.

She took a deep breath as her legs widened, making room for him between them, and they both exhaled as he let himself fall against her, a lithe finger finally sinking fully under the fabric between her thighs and caressing the skin of her folds.

Jude bit her lip, trying to hold back a moan at the feeling of his finger just barely swiping against her most sensitive part. Her hips lifted ever so slightly, bucking towards his hand, wanting more, needing more, as her feelings overwhelmed her.

Cardan watched her with interest as she squirmed beneath his light touch, legs widening further and hips lifting for more contact, but his finger used the softest of pressure, teasing her until she was panting for more. His obsidian gaze burned darkly as his hand moved beneath the fabric of her underwear, slow calculated movements, until she was a mess beneath him. He loved to torture her; that much was evident.

His finger dipped in further and pulled out just as quickly, leaving Jude annoyed and unsatisfied. She refused to beg him. She just wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she let her own hand slide between them and join his in her underwear. She pressed his fingers against her palm, pushing them against her with all her strength. His eyes widened in shock at Jude’s motions, but she didn’t have time to appreciate it, because suddenly his fingers were inside her, and she felt like she was going to burn alive.

She fought against the moans that threatened to escape her mouth, panting loudly instead, back arched off the mattress as Cardan’s hand moved inside her.

“Please,” Cardan breathed quietly as his thumb pressed against her clit.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her as her orgasm took her by surprise, legs shaking and hands clenching at her bedsheets as Cardan’s mouth swallowed her sounds of pleasure. His hand never ceased until her twitching legs fell against the mattress with fatigue.

Cardan’s lips kissed hers over and over until her heartbeat slowed and her muscles relaxed, feeling like jelly.

Jude was still in a daze when Cardan pulled his hand from between her legs and licked his fingers, looking far too satisfied with himself. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care at this particular moment.

“Oh,” she breathed quietly, and watched as Cardan lifted a dark brow towards her.

“You’re not going to run away from me again, are you?” he asked, and Jude shook her head from side-to-side. She had a feeling if she tried to stand right now, her legs would wobble. She couldn’t run anywhere. “Good. Are you feeling better?” he asked, and Jude wasn’t exactly sure she knew how to answer that question. Was she feeling a sense of satisfaction and relaxation she’d never experienced before? Yes. Was she feeling a combination of confusion, self-loathing and anger? Also yes.

She couldn’t believe she’d let Cardan touch her like that. She’d never let anyone do that. Ever.

But with Cardan, she felt herself at his mercy, ready for whatever his hands and mouth wanted to do to her. She cringed, feeling a sudden pang of disgust with herself.

She pulled the blankets back over her, hiding her body away from his intense gaze.

“I still hate you,” Jude said again, but her voice was so breathy, she knew it rung false, even to her own ears.

“So you’ve said,” Cardan sighed, standing from the bed and straightening his sweater and adjusting himself within his pants.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation as Oriana poked her head in with a relieved smile. “Oh, Jude. You’re looking flushed, I hope that means your fever broke.”

Cardan rested his hand against Jude’s forehead, which was clammy with the aftermath of their encounter. “You are looking better,” he said calmly. “I must be good for your health.”

Jude snorted far too loudly at that.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Cardan?” Oriana offered, and Cardan shook his head before Jude could even bother to protest.

“No, I’ll let Jude dear get her rest.” Oriana smiled happily at Cardan’s kind words. “But I’ll see you in rehearsal tomorrow bright and early.”

Jude nodded weakly. “Can’t wait.”

~*~

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[poorlittleangels]

Eating yourself sick

(Castor being taking care of by caring Aina after having been held and tortured. Unfortunately he can't help his hunger.)

"Hold tight, dear, it won't be long," Aina said from the small kitchen. She was making him his breakfast, a big bowl of porridge with maybe a bit of broth. Her pot of water was at a rolling boil as she hummed to herself, an apron over her long brown dress. The morning was calm and dew sparkled on every blade of grass he could see from his parted curtains. The sunlight fell grayish gold on the floorboards.

He rubbed his stomach, lightheaded with hunger. The past few weeks, he hadn't had much of an appetite. He could barely eat more than a few mouthfuls of whatever Aina fed him, though she gently pleaded with him to try some more. She worried about how thin and pale he looked, how his hair and nails were dry and brittle, how his skin looked stretched taut over his bones. He had just gone without food for so long - maybe once every few days getting tossed some stale bread and water - that his stomach wasn't used to much more, and Aina would sigh and put away the dishes, hoping he would feel better tomorrow.

Today, however, he awoke ravenous. He mentioned it to Aina, whose face alighted with joy for a moment before she went to make him something to eat. He laid there, knowing it would be rude to rush her, but all the same growing more desperate every second. His mind began to wander into decadence - he thought of warm, soft pastries, creamy soup, meat and vegetables and cake... He missed eating. His family and friends knew how he loved his food - he wasn't sure how he hadn't grown fat with how much he ate. At every meal he took seconds, or packed away the leftovers, sometimes asking if someone else planned on finishing their meal so he could scrape up some more.

Aina came in with a bowl of fruit she had been washing, setting it down on a nightstand while she rummaged in the drawer below. "Now where did I leave that..." A little more rummaging and she took out one of her hair barettes that she had misplaced. "There you are." She twisted and pinned back her long dark hair. "Oh, Castor, your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." She left the bowl of fruit out, absent-minded as she was.

A few minutes later she brought out his bowl of porridge, along with her own breakfast, setting them down on a short table she moved closer to the bed. "Careful, dear, it's a bit hot. Don't want to hurt yourself." She gave it a stir. "I know how hungry you are." She looked out the window, narrowing her eyes. Then she smacked her forehead with her palm in exasperation. "My, I left the laundry out drying all night! I forgot to go get it after supper." She sprang up and hurried towards the door, grabbing the hamper. "I'm so sorry, go ahead and eat when you're ready. I'll be right back. My, I can't believe myself-" She shut the door behind her, leaving the room quiet.

Castor looked to his side. Aina had laid out a big bowl of steaming hot porridge with a spoon, and a little cup of chicken broth. It was bland food, but he knew it'd be delicious, as Aina's cooking always was. His stomach growled. He took a tentative bite. It was too hot, so he set the spoon aside to let it cool. As hungry as he was, he knew he'd burn his mouth.

Over on the table sat Aina's breakfast. A sticky pastry, covered in glaze, with its bakery wrapper half stuck to it. Aina had already taken a bite out of it, exposing the chocolate center. Next to it was a tall, frothy glass of milk.

It was exactly what he'd been dreaming of. Without thinking he leaned forward and grabbed it, too hungry to care if she'd miss it. It was sweet and flaky and buttery. He couldn't have stopped eating had he been tied and bound. In just a few bites he was finished, and licked the rest off his fingers. He reached for the glass of milk, and, steadying it in shaking hands, drained it in a few gulps. It was the best he had ever drank, fresh and rich.

His porridge had gotten cool enough to eat, and he ate messily, tilting the bowl and scraping it into his mouth. The more he ate, he found, the more his appetite grew. As though he was making up for all those days with nothing to eat, filling in the pangs of hunger with butter and sugar and dairy. He didn't care how savage he was being. He just needed to eat, to satisfy his stomach.

He moved on to the bowl of fruit, glistening and freshly washed. A few cherries, he popped them into his mouth without bothering to spit the seeds out. A peach, juicy and succulent. He tore through it all, not thinking. A tangerine, a few strawberries, whatever else, he tore into the soft flesh until his teeth were burning with all the sugar.

He startled at the clicking of the doorknob. He froze. A few moments passed, and nothing happened. He settled down, his heart still racing. In his hand was a fresh, ripe plum - he bit into it, breaking the skin, letting the sticky juice drip down his hands and chin. He had never tasted anything so sweet.

He didn't hear Aina coming in, opening the door with her knee, balancing the basket of clothes on her hip. She hefted it inside and sighed, relieved of the burden.

"My," she said breathlessly, "that's a lot of clothes." She started toward the bedroom. "Good thing it didn't rain last night, hm? I still can't believe I forgot."

She stopped in his doorway. "Castor?"

He looked up at her, struck by a wave of panic. He had the plum in his hand, the juices and seeds of the fruit all over him. Red cherry stains on his soft white shirt and sticky syrup on his fingers. He felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. Imagine being caught like this! He was less than human, just a hungry animal bent on ruining himself.

"Castor, dear..." She hung up her apron and knelt by his side. He let out a choked sob and let the other half of the fruit roll into the bowl. How had he been so stupid? Eating himself sick like a puppy finding a dropped piece of meat. He felt the raw shame spread across his cheeks, the same as when his brother teased him for eating so much, as when his mother shot him a disapproving look for taking an extra slice of cake. As when he got rude glances from friends for piling on an extra serving, not stopping to wipe his mouth. Just him, mannerless, disgusting, worthless. He wept into his messy hands. Nothing more than a sick, sad little glutton.

"Castor, what's the matter?" She pushed a lock of hair out of his face. She didn't sound condemning, but was truly concerned. Something about it made him cry harder. "Come, let's clean you up."

She ducked away to the bathroom and brought him a wet washcloth, wiping off his face, hands, and neck. She helped him change his shirt into a fresh, clean one, and replaced the messy quilt. The dirty dishes were taken and put in the sink, and she returned to his side to comfort him.

He wept into his sleeve, unable to bear her pity. She was disappointed in him, he thought. She must hate him. Poor, broken boy, couldn't control himself, needing to be watched all day and night like a misbehaving pet.

She sighed. "Don't cry. Shh, it's okay. What's wrong? Got too hungry? I promise I'm not mad at you."

He shivered and answered with more sobs, covering his face. Salty tears washed away the sweetness on his tongue.

"You know you shouldn't be eating fruit or milk, things like that. I'm worried it'll mess with you after you haven't been eating for so long." She gently peeled away his hands from his round red eyes. "It's not your fault, dear," she whispered. "You're hungry. Almost too much to bear, right?"

He nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. She offered him a tissue from his bedside.

"Don't blame yourself. I should've known, should've fed you more. I made you wait for your breakfast when I knew you were so desperate. I'm sorry, honey."

Her tone was sincere and tender. He knew she truly cared for him, forgave him. It reminded him of his mother soothing him to sleep when he was ill. He sniffled and wiped his eyes again.

He then seized up. Pain tore through his middle. He grabbed at his stomach, suffering through a wave of hurt that left him dizzy. The amount of food he had eaten was stretching his small stomach, not used to eating more than a mouthful at a time. It cramped and twisted, unable to digest the fruit and milk and sugar. How sweet it had been on his tongue, and how horribly sour it felt now!

Aina had turned away for a moment, beginning to put away the laundry. "Is your stomach okay? I'm afraid you might not do well with the milk-"

He squirmed and grunted, prompting her to look over. She dropped the dress she was holding and rushed to be next to him.

"Shh, that's it. Breathe through it." His thin, pale frame was shivering. He felt like he might be ripped apart from the inside. Every wave was worse than the last. Punishment, he felt, for his greediness and lack of self control. He deserved to suffer this badly.

She stayed by him, shushing him, stroking his hair to calm him. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, once he was able to speak before the gnawing ache came back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" A tear fell down his cheek. He whimpered as his stomach churned. "I shouldn't have done that..."

Pressure was quickly building behind his throat. He felt bloated and his stomach bulged from his skinny body. He put a hand to his mouth, trying to breathe through the nausea. It was getting harder to take a deep breath.

He managed to whimper a plea for help, and Aina grabbed a basin for him. She helped to sit him up and place it in his arms, where he held on with shaking hands. He didn't want to throw up, not with his raspy throat and still-healing ribs. But it might be the only thing that could make him feel better.

He caught his breath in between cramps, an unsettling warmth still burning in his belly. Aina was rubbing his back in small circles and stroking his hair, making sure he could hold himself upright.

He doubled over again with pain and puked up a thin stream of bile. He spit and washed his mouth of the alkaline taste with a sip of water. The acid burned up his raw throat. Then, finally, he heaved and brought up a wave of smashed fruit, sickly and cloying in his throat, rotten and putrid. The smell alone made him gag even more. He brought up the pulp and skins and juice, the heavy, rich syrup and porridge, the milk. His ribs were bending and bruising, and his abdomen was already aching with the exertion, unused to working so hard. The forcefulness of the vomiting left him powerless. It was only after everything had come up that he could lay back, barely staying conscious, still dry heaving into a towel.

Aina quickly washed out the basin and brought him a clean cloth, wiping his face for him. She rinsed his mouth with water and gave him a few sips, just about a spoonful at a time, so he wouldn't dehydrate. The cool touch of her fingers on his pounding head was a welcome respite. His whole body was hurting so badly he lie completely still in hopes that the pain would pass.

"Poor thing," Aina cooed, wrapping a soft hand under his neck. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I know how horrid it must feel to be put in that much pain again." She lifted the glass of water and fed him another sip.

"It's my fault," he said shakily. "I'm too greedy."

"Dear, you were starved for months. Your body wants - needs - to eat." She smiled, cupping his cheek. "Now at least I know you're getting your appetite back. You're starting to feel better, even if today you were a little sick."

He nodded, rolling to his side. Her words made him feel a little better, even if he still hated what he'd done. Aina tucked him in to his shoulders and patted his head. He felt safe around her, taken care of, finally being able to trust that she wouldn't hurt him. For all that time the only touch he knew was cold, painful, meant only to harm. Now he found himself leaning into her gentle hands, content. His body was still hurting, stomach sore from overexertion. But he knew he was safe. That he was loved.

Before he knew it he had fallen fast asleep, napping as the sun rose.

[nighttimepixels]

just some vent art below the cut - i don’t usually post this sorta thing, so y’know. move along, no worries at all, just working out some frustration. be back tomorrow or the next day with some proper happy go lucky goodness.

(also general cw for... distress? probably don’t wanna look if you can’t handle very very vague slight body horror, or maybe if you have an ED/self harm triggers.)

I will never win the war despite how hard I think I fight... No matter any move I make I just can't get it right. But you know just what they say-

Out of sight, Out of mind.

... i don’t really talk about it here or anywhere, but i’ve got some bad health issues that makes it impossible to have a ‘normal’ job/...day-to-day. i can’t really eat anything but... well, about five things, and that’s not hyperbole.

if i eat anything else, well... long story short, food’s on a spectrum of ‘not good’ to ‘debilitating or worse’ re:causing pain, nausea, and a host of other... very, very bad symptoms. my illness centers around my digestive system, basically. it took me years to find a stasis i could keep myself at to function decently, and even still i have bad days... i’m incredibly lucky, though, and i know it. so many things could be worse.

sometimes though it just... it gets to me. i’ve gone through it all testing-wise, the doctor circuit, etc - there’s no cure and all that jazz, in the end. it’s not fatal, so that’s fine, it’s just... this is my life, and has been for years, and i accept that. i have to. but it’s... hard, as much as i don’t like saying so or admitting it. i hate worrying people, i hate the fact that it seems so trivial when explaining it to people, hate that it’s invisible, and i just... feel so, so guilty all the time. it’s exhausting, and i just... well, i’m usually able to handle it all nowadays, and the stasis i’ve been able to get to thanks to some support (my sister especially... i really can’t begin to explain what she means to me & has done for me), but sometimes things come up. i’ve got... family members in particular that... push. including my mom in particular. something happened again the other day regarding her trying to imply i could be ‘cured’ or ‘mostly so’ if i just tried (yet another) diet, and i’m carrying weight even though i’m malnourished, and no don’t take that the wrong way and get emotional she really doesn’t mean it like that she swears, just i should try this bone broth thing really this book said this this and this, and etc etc... this is a cycle. she means well and i know she just wishes i was ‘better’, but all the while won’t really listen, and doesn’t accept exactly how thorough i’ve been. i broke down later over the whole thing once i was alone again, for the first time in a while. i just... have to remember that it’s  human to feel tired of being sick all the time.

of course, i then proceeded to get particularly sick for a couple days, so thus my brief radio silence the past couple days. womp.

in the end, realized i just... really needed to do this vent art, to do something so my emotions didn’t coil so tight i’d break down again. if you actually read this, then dear stars, i’m sorry, haha. i just needed a place to vent for once, woops... might come back and delete this later, but for now i’m gonna try and get some sleep, feeling a little more at ease for the time i gave myself on this.

i’ll do something more positive and hopeful next - or at the very least lighthearted. i really do try to have an optimistic outlook on things, and stay positive as best i can. finally just had to tell myself that it was okay to feel upset too, and to work through it with something like this.

[randomlittleimp]

Convergence pt2

Fandom: Star Trek

Ship: McKirk

Rating: Mature

Warnings: childhood trauma, deadly accidents, bullying, homophobia, genocide, starvation, homosexuality, divorce

Tagging: @auduna-druitt @pinkamour1588 @captainsbabysitter-blog @thefanficfaerie

Description: AU where Leonard meets Jim as children and their lives converge at different years as they grow up.

Part 1

It was years before the two saw each other again. After the accident Leonard couldn’t stand to be near the starships so they went back to Georgia. It wasn’t until he was in middle school that they asked his father to return for another consulting job. They set them up in the same rental house as before, and he was in the same room. Even years later the room looked the same with the floral wallpaper. The window seat seemed a lot smaller then it had when he was little, but the view was still nice.

When he got to school and once again knew no one, this time he wasn’t as worried about it. He had already found that he was smarter than most of his classmates in Georgia and that a good portion of them resented him for that fact. He didn’t see Iowa as being any different. He wasn’t going to worry about making friends. He just wanted to get through this trip without too much incident.  So when he was confronted with a pair of the most startling blue eyes in the world as he ate his lunch the feelings that they brought up were unexpected.

The memories flooded his mind, “Jimmy?”

The blue eyes widened a bit, then squinted in thought. “Bones?”  Leonard handed over his apple as an answer and Jimmy’s smile was almost as brilliant as his eyes. “Dude, it’s great to see you. How long are you back for?”

“A couple of years probably. They have my dad consulting on the new batch of flying death machines.” Leonard grumbled before going back to his sandwich.

Jimmy flopped down next to him on the bench, “You used to like those flying death machines.”

“That was before I learned how many ways they can kill you. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds.”  He was about to go on but a laugh from Jimmy stopped him.

“Man, I have missed you! And not just because of the apples.” Jimmy took a big bite out of the apple in his hand. “I hope you’re wrong though, about the death machines, because I’m gonna be on one this summer.”

Leonard stopped eating to look at Jimmy in shock, “What? Your going out there, into space?”

“Yup, this summer I’m gonna go visit my uncle and his family on some new colony planet, Tarsus four. It’s gonna be awesome!” Jimmy was so happy, Leonard couldn’t bring himself to dampen his enthusiasm with more statistics.

The year went by fairly quickly, the two boys becoming nearly inseparable. Leonard was happy to have a friend, it made the time in Iowa bearable.  He even began to bring an extra apple and sandwich with him in his lunch for Jimmy who still never brought enough food to school with him. Jimmy was still quite popular with the girls, although he was old enough now to have some understanding as to why. Jimmy was a charmer, and those bright blue eyes of his could make the most stoic of girls blush when he turned the full force of their gaze on them. It still made Leonard a little jealous when Jimmy would be surrounded by girls and barely notice Leonard was still there. He just figured it was still because he wanted his friend to himself. Jimmy was his only real friend here.

Jimmy’s mysterious bruises were still a problem as well, but he no longer bothered to come up with reasons for them. Jimmy would just shrug and change the subject, but Leonard did notice Jimmy didn't spend much time at home. When he mentioned it to his dad, his father looked concerned. He knew that Leonard cared for his friend deeply, and said he would look into it. Unfortunately there seemed to be a lot of people aware of the situation, but no one who wanted to do anything about it. (Leonard would not learn of this for many years, and when he did it would make him physically ill.)

The summer came to quickly for Leonard’s liking, and soon he was saying goodbye to his friend, waving as Jimmy boarded the shuttle that would take him to the transport ship to Tarsus IV.  It was only meant to be for about six months, but Leonard knew it was going to be the most boring six months of his life with no one left to hang out with, and not even school to occupy him for the first half of the time.

Leonard did send communications to Jimmy, but it took weeks to get a message there and weeks to get one back. The wait was agonizing. It was in the third month that Leonard got the message from Jimmy that they were having problems with the crops, and people were worried that there wouldn’t be enough to eat. Jimmy tried to keep an upbeat tone to it but Leonard was worried all the same. He told his dad about the letter, but the elder McCoy assured his son that the local governing body there would have a plan, and thing might be a little rough but it would ultimately be fine.

The next week news broke about the total crop failure, and about the governing bodies plan to conserve food by carrying out mass killings of the settlers. Only those chosen few in charge were safe from the kill squads. Men, women and children were being massacred in the town square. Leonard started hyperventilating as the news played out in front of him. His father tried to comfort him, but was in almost as much shock at this turn in events as Leonard was. What he could say was that Jimmy was resourceful, if anyone could find a way to survive this it was Jimmy, but his words had little conviction. How could anyone escape this kind of evil.

It was another month before Starfleet was able to retake the planet. Those in charge that didn’t flee were arrested, and the area was scoured for survivors. Leonard heard stories of small families that had hidden and survived the horrors that befell the other settlers, but they were few and none of the video feed sent back included a boy with bright blue eyes.  Leonard didn’t give up on that last sliver of hope he had that his friend would be found. Then one night the story broke of a group of small children found hiding in the woods and the boy who had helped them escape even when their families did not. The tale of how he would sneak out of the hiding place at night in search of food and water to keep them alive, all why dodging the patrol and searching soldiers. It was an incredible tale, but when this heroic young boys face was shown on screen Leonard cried with joy. Dirty and much to thin, Jimmy was barely recognizable, but those blue eyes couldn’t have belonged to anyone else.

When he was brought back to Iowa he was in the hospital for months recovering. His father had been doing volunteer work there in his free time from working his consulting job, and was able to keep an eye on Jimmy’s recovery, even if he wasn’t his primary doctor and he made sure to give Leonard updates about his friend everyday that he could. Eventually when they deemed Jimmy was stable enough for visitors Leonard’s dad brought him up to the hospital.

When Leonard entered the room Jimmy was all smiles, “Hey man! Did you miss me?” Leonard stifled the sob that nearly escaped and instead went for humor. He didn’t want to get all emotional on his friend.

“Were you gone? I hadn’t noticed.” he smirked as this got quite a laugh outta Jimmy.

They sat and talked for awhile about the good things they had experienced in their months apart, trying not to think of the rest. Soon the nurse came in with Jimmy’s lunch and told Leonard he could only stay a few more minutes, but he could come back the next day. The lunch tray was sparse, only a little broth, and crackers and jello. Jimmy didn’t look to thrilled by the options. “They say the lack of food up there left my immune systems all screwed up and I’ve got a long list of allergies now. I could have eaten more, but they were all so hungry. They seemed like they needed it more than me. I’ve been hungry before.” His voice got quieter as he kept speaking, the last bit barely a whisper.

It made Leonard’s chest ache, but he knew not to dwell on it, that was not what Jimmy needed. “Well, you’ll have to get me a copy of that list. I wouldn’t wanna pack anything you couldn’t eat in my lunch when you’re back in school.”

Jimmy gave him a small smile, “Sure man, you’ll be better at remembering that stuff than I will anyhow. It will be like having one of the medieval food tasters, keeping the king away from the poisoned food.”

“If you think for one minute I’m calling you Your Majesty or something you got another thing coming.” Leonard responded. “I’ll try to come back tomorrow if you want, maybe bring some cards so we can play rummy or something.”

“Yeah that’d be great, it’s so boring here. I hate hospitals.” Jimmy smiled and waved him off, and Leonard managed to get all the way to the elevator before breaking down in tears.

It was a while before Jimmy came back to school. Once he did he was fawned over by many of the other kids who either saw him as a hero or a survivor of a terrible disaster. Leonard tried his best to treat his friend no different than he had before, and it was exactly what Jimmy needed. They became even closer than before and Leonard truly hated the idea of going back to Georgia and leaving Jimmy behind. He wished he could take him back with him, but that just wasn’t an option. His only consolation was he could keep in touch with him this time, and his dad had said he would be called back to Iowa again in a few more years.

[forbiddenwords]

Stranded (Chapter 3)

Written By: TheHeathenSlave Rating: Mature for Plane crash, injury, survival, desert island, stranded, drug usage, drinking, alcohol, awkward flirting, voyeurism, watersports, fetish, sexual tension, extreme illness, graphic, puss, wound cleaning, surgery, vomiting, oral sex, fluff, angst, romance, drug usage, assault, near death, happy ending. Fandom:  Real Person Fiction (Hours Era But Modern Day)

She never thought that a trans Atlantic flight could end in perfect paradise with David Bowie. Well…almost perfect paradise.

Previous Chapters.

When they got back to the camp, Leila sat down near the fire. The sun had passed high noon in the sky and had started to descend. She was very much hoping that it wouldn’t get freezing there at night but there wasn’t much way to tell until they spent the night there. David moved the cans of soup from the stone where he’d had them set to heat up. They were quickly placed into the sand to cool a bit. The rock was pushed off the coals at that point and he stoked the fire up more, glancing over at her. In the morning she planned to explore as much as she could. Find food sources, fresh water, and see if by any miracle there was going to be some other human on there. Friendly of course. The problem was if they were all the way out here then they probably weren’t the kind to want guests around.

“Thanks for everything.” She said, touching the sides of the can gently to see if it had cooled enough that she could pick it up and sip at the broth inside.

“No, thank you.” David said.

“What exactly have I done that I need to be thanked for?” She asked with a bit of a chuckle. All she’d really done was pull the metal out of him (which he could have done himself) and passed out a lot. Especially after making him shift her bone back into place. He’d made a fire, helped with the tent, and some how never once muttered any sort of complaint about how his side hurt. Which she was sure it did he just wasn’t saying it.

“I think you’ve done more for me than you have realized.” He said, “A lot of it has to do with anxiety…long story.” She gave him a look and decided not to ask. It probably wasn’t her business. However, maybe he was bringing it up because he wanted her to know and wanted to talk about it. If he had anxiety he could have ended up with a worse person than a psychiatrist.

“I can probably understand, now. I’m a psychiatrist.”

“You said you were an FBI agent.” He said, “And a doctor…now a psychiatrist?”

“You are aware that I can be all three of those things at once right?” She asked with a smirk. The can had cooled enough so she picked it up. After rotating it a bit to find an edge that wasn’t sharp she took a sip of the liquid inside. She honestly hadn’t tasted anything this good in a very long time. Desperation could make a gourmet meal out of just about anything.

“Yes,” He said and picked up his can as well, “Usually people go with one specialty and, there they stay.”

“Except you who has had how many stage personas by now?”

“You get my point.”

“Sorry…” She laughed, “I’m not upset. I know that people usually don’t take this into consideration.”

“So you aren’t a clinical doctor then, are you? Or even a psychiatrist. You must be forensic, which means the most you do on a daily basis is autopsies.” He pointed out.

“Correct. You’re very knowledgeable about this.”

“I read a lot.”

“It shows.” She said and drank more of the soup. “So maybe all I do is cut up dead bodies, it doesn’t mean I lack the medical skill of a practicing doctor. Autopsies get you very intimate with human anatomy just on a dead person. I still had to get the same life saving training and do the same rotations as any other doctor you’ll meet.”

“Considering my options were being stuck here with someone who didn’t go to medical school, I won’t complain too much.” He said, “Just…try not to think of me as a cadaver before I am one.”

“Yeah, same.” She smirked. He smiled back at her and then got more relaxed in the sand to consume his soup. Rest would do both of them good. Recharge them. Tomorrow they could sort out the items they had found more. Some of it would need to be buried before bed, to ensue that if there were animals around they couldn’t get to the food. It was easy to do that in sand since a hole could be dug deeply and with relatively little effort. All they needed to do was jam it into a suitcase and shove it down in there until tomorrow.

When she had finished her soup, she got up and moved to the rest of the stuff. It was all still in the raft. She grabbed the side of it and pulled, dragging it up towards the tent. David joined her a moment later to help, and it was a great help. She cautioned him to be careful of the wound on his side, though. If she had to literally stitch it shut that would risk far more infection than the superglue method he’d used before. She did pretty badly want a chance to clean it out properly but opening again also definitely meant infection. A bad one. He’d probably get an infection now, but it would be mild. Should be. It wasn’t something she wanted to mention to him. Hopefully she’d go through all of the pills and find some antibiotics. She’d already found narcotics. It was more likely that someone was traveling with penicillin than narcotics so she felt her odds were good.

“What are we doing now?” He asked.

“We need to separate the food. Anything that has a scent or could possibly draw animals this way.” She said. “The rest of the things we can move into the tent and keep there. The last thing we want is to attract wild bears here or something.”

“Bears? On a tropical island?”

“Okay whatever then, giant birds.”

“You really don’t know much about island wildlife, do you? This isn’t Australia.” He laughed and started to go through the supplies they had. She glared at him and then smiled as she looked away. Tropical islands and the animals that lived on them was definitely not one of her ares of expertise but she didn’t think her logic was flawed despite her being correct (or incorrect) about what type of animal might come snooping around their camp.

“I know enough. At least enough to stay safe in the areas where I usually camp. When I go to a tropical island it’s usually a vacation not…this.” She said. She found a small suitcase to empty out so they could pack up some of the food. They had found some beef jerky, which would be pretty essential when it came to protein in the next few days unless they could find a way to replace it. She wouldn’t know until tomorrow. They also put the potato chips in there, someone had packed a whole bunch of weird Asian flavors only really found in Japan. They were sealed in their bags but Leila was still worried the scent could attract animals even if it was very mild.

The other things were less fragrant. Some cans of food were left over from the emergency rations off of the plane. There were still a few bottles of left and some bottles of alcohol. Really good stuff that was being transported back. Including an incredibly expensive bottle of sake. There were chocolates, cookies, and a few candy bars. That was about it. A place like this would definitely had some kind of fruit, even if it was just coconuts. The bigger problem would be figuring out how to get up the palm trees to collect them. Also opening them. A big rock may do the trick. This could work reasonably well until they were found. If they were found. No, that wasn’t the way to think. Not only was she with David Bowie, but being an heiress there would be a whole fleet after her. Rika wasn’t the type of friend to give up a search until there was a body found (alive or dead) and she had plenty of money at her disposal. It really was a matter of when they’d be rescued. Not if.

Once things were taken care of to her liking, they added a bit more fuel to the fire. That would also help keep animals away. It was only a few feet from the outside of the tent. They didn’t exactly have blankets but they did have a ton of clothes. The few blankets they did have were still soaking wet, despite them being hung over an impromptu line to dry in the sun. Who knew that airplane blankets could hold that much liquid? Maybe they needed to move them more towards the heat of the fire. They still had a bit of time until the sun was completely set, they could dry in that period. Leila folded up some of the warmer clothes she could find, and piled them into a bed shape. She did this for David as well. A large down coat was all they really would have in way of a blanket and a lot of other clothes had to be set out to dry as well.

When it came to finding other medications they came out fairly well. Another bottle of narcotics, half a bottle of amoxicillin, a bottle of nyquil, some claritin, a few different bottles of ibuprofen, and then a very tightly sealed baggy of pot. Whoever had packed that had risked some serious problems boarding a plane with it. However, she knew from the dank smell the moment she’d opened it that it couldn’t be anything other than marijuana. It had been a long time since she’d smoked any pot but it may be a better idea for a painkiller than continuing to down narcotics. At least there was a pipe also packed in that bag. Along with drug paraphernalia magazines, bumper stickers, and a bunch of hippie style clothing. Like this guy had walked right out of 1977. She’d even found an Aladdin Sane shirt but had decided not to mention it to David in the chance that it would put him in a sour mood.

“So,” She said once he was laying on his ‘bed’ in the tent. “I’m going to need to check your side and make sure it’s clean, at least as clean as it can be given the situation.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well, there are a few options, including opening the wound again. We have fishing wire and hooks that could be used to stitch–”

“Don’t finish that sentence please.” He said, wincing heavily at the thought.

“I know that it’s not great, David, but, like it or not you’re already risking infection. I want you to take the antibiotics I found.” She said, grabbing the bottle for him. He took it and looked at her.

“You’re sure this is…okay?”

“I know what the medication is and what it does. It’s only half a course but it’s better than nothing. Unless you have a severe allergy to amoxicillin I wouldn’t worry.” She said. He nodded and opened the bottle then dumped one pill out into his palm. “Drink a lot of water with it.”

“You need water too.” He said and took the pill anyway.

“True but we may find other sources of it on this island. If not, we can rinse out those soup cans and boil it. If we can find a fresh source. If not…I’ll have to see if I can remember the weird process of making ocean water drinkable. I think you can filter it through sand or something then boil it after that.” She sighed and grabbed the emergency flashlight from the first aid kit. Getting closer to him she turned it on. The little window in the tent let in light but not nearly enough to inspect a wound. “Now, hold still.”

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“It’s not going to feel nice.” She said, “You want some codeine to help with it?”

“Yeah that would be…a…good idea.” He said laying more on his side. She got out two pills of the T3 and handed them over then one of the packets of cookies they found.

“You’ll want to eat with that.” She said.

“Two? Leila, I don’t really–”

“You are trying so hard to pretend you aren’t in pain, and if you want to keep doing that, fine, but I know you are from how you tense, gasp, sigh, and move around. If you want to be able to sleep, two is what you need. One will help but it’s really just going to relax you and you need rest if you are going to fight this.” She explained. He nodded and took the pills, opening the packet of cookies to eat them, propping himself up so he could do that while she looked at his wound.

She moved the shirt back and shone the light on him. As suspected, there were already signs of infection. Swelling, bruising, and a bit of puss there. The good news was that the seal was holding up, the superglue that was in the kit had come in handy for that, but it had also managed to seal in any sort of dirt, debris, or rust that would have been left in there that couldn’t be cleaned out before he could seal it. Had she not passed out like she had, she’d have done it for him but she hadn’t gotten that opportunity. She resisted the urge to touch the area. It was tempting, because she wanted to feel if the redness was actually swelling or if it was trapped fluid. If it got any worse she was going to have to start draining the area and that was going to not only be painful, but incredibly gross.

“The good news is, the seal is holding up.” She said, “There is some signs of infection but the antibiotics should help keep it at bay for a bit. I want you to take six within the next 48 hours then 2 every 24 hours after that until you run out.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to space them out and conserve?”

“Not really.” She said, “The faster we get the into your system the faster they will work. Normally you’d be on 4 a day, not three, but I also have to consider how many we have. Antibiotics do keep working even after you finished the course, for about two weeks. So even when you are done they should keep flowing through your system. Your stomach isn’t going to be very happy with this you know.”

“Oh I’m well aware.” He said. He got comfortable again and closed his eyes. She grabbed the large down coat and draped it over him.

“Just try to get some rest, I’ll be outside if you need me, I’m going to try to dry those blankets better and maybe dry out a book or magazine to read.” She said. “I’ll be back in here around the time the sun has completely set as we really don’t have that much light to work with and I want to keep the flashlight for emergencies. That or having to go use the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“You’re quite the angel you know, even if you are a bit anal retentive.”

“Thanks, I think.” She said and stroked some of his hair back softly. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course.” He said and closed his eyes. She moved out of the tent and zipped it up. From the outside she opened the other two windows so that a nice breeze could pass through the tent and make sure the temperature stayed tolerable. It already wasn’t too bad in there but she needed him to stay comfortable so she wouldn’t move around a lot and risk tearing open his side. Once that was done, she got to work attempting to dry the blankets. She dreaded the first night there but at least she wasn’t going to spend it alone.

Next Chapters.

[mrs-nichols-rn]

Flare

Technically it's caused by something. Either I did too much activity the day before, or not enough. Maybe I ate the wrong thing, even if my diet has been unchanged for months. Perhaps it's just (as I suspect today) the regular cycle of hormones that the body's trying to adjust to. Could be the light streaming into our windows, because it's summertime in the Pacific Northwest which means we get a total of six hours of darkness, and I didn't get to bed until halfway through it. Or maybe I couldn't shut off my brain, and it's spinning around, trying to figure out the meaning of life and whatever else it tangentally relates. Whatever the reason, I didn't sleep long enough. And the more I freak out about not sleeping, the more I will not sleep. So I ignore it, and dink around on my phone for 3 hours, hoping I'll tire out and fall asleep again for a bit. Sometimes that works. My husband knows it does, because as he left the house a bit ago, he kissed me and told me to get some sleep. I was awake when he woke (I went to bed much later than him) so he knew it was a bad night of sleep. I'm thankful that he's becoming more understanding of my weaknesses. Living with a chronic condition, though, means it's really fun trying to get into the right position. And by fun I mean not. Every. Position. Hurts. So lack of sleep compounds pain and pain compounds lack of sleep. Stop feeling sorry for me (or if you're one of *those* people, stop rolling your eyes at me), though. It's called a flare. Which means today will just suck a little more than usual, and I'll be moving a little slower than usual, and by bedtime tonight I will be exhausted and sore and will fall asleep faster and sleep longer and tomorrow will be better. It WILL be better tomorrow. Here's the great news: the poor sleep and pain and moving slowly and all that crap used to be normal life for me. For years I pushed through, thinking that I was just weak or something. When I finally had the name for what I was going through, I could then find someone else who had walked through it before and beat it. I made it a consuming goal to fight my way out of chronic illness and have a regular life. I've been radically changing my lifestyle over the last year and a half, and what used to be normal daily life is limited now to once or twice a month. So this is a victory, even if it sounds like defeat. I know there are people with chronic illness out there who are still living with the crippling daily pain and fatigue; they haven't experienced remission of symptoms, and a flare day means not getting out of bed at all. So I'm grateful for the progress I've had in minimizing my symptoms. Doesn't mean I still don't struggle. Doesn't mean I "must not have AS" if it's not completely crippling me. It means that today is hard. But don't worry, I'll power through. And no, don't tell me to take meds to dull the symptoms (I did for years and years, and it only made me worse). I have my herbs, supplements, essential oils, rubs, TENS unit, heating pads, teas, raw juices, bone broths, and a whole arsenal of therapeutic remedies. Luckily it's also a chiropractor day for me. Of course if you have a natural remedy idea, I can add it to my list. ;) It's strangely encouraging to read and hear from others about their flares, though. Helps me remember that I'm not the only one walking through this struggle. I'm going to make it through today, and yes, tomorrow WILL be better. Just what I'm learning.

[fenwxlf]

Red Sands -- Creature Comforts

v: red sands (gladiator au)

compiled rp with @captstarsnstripes, and spelling errors abound as we did this on pirate pad. (*note, not edited or spell checked)

He had curled in on himself, huddled as much as his large, furry body could. Chunks of his fur had started to fall out from the stress, and his insides ached. His bones jutted out, tight against his skin, and it made laying on the ground painful -- he had to keep digging a little divot in the dirt to form some kind of cushion, lest his elbows start bleeding... again. The wolf didn’t even react to the banging against his cell bars. Just as his body curled, so had his mind. It was the only way to handle times like this. But the banging wouldn’t stop, and was soon followed by yelling and then --

Water splashed over him and -- finally -- a flinch. He jumped up, something between a whimper and a growl in his throat. Backing against the wall, tail between his legs, the wolf growled, trying to focus on the man -- men? how many were there? -- in front of him, a spear in his grip but not aimed at him. “Get up,” the man ordered. One of the head guards, he thought, from the way he smelled and his voice. He should recognize him. But what did it matter? “Oy!” The man smacked his hands together to get his attention, earning him a growl and lowered ears. “Change back and go find that friend of yours. He’s kicking up a fuss. Tomorrow morning, you march your furry ass right back here, you hear me?” Friend? He didn’t have friends. He... no, wait ...Steve? Steve. Was he worried? How long had it been? He was kicking up a fuss, what did that even mean? What was he supposed to do? What-- “Oy!” Another smack, and Fenrir flinched, eyes focusing back on the man. “You hear me, mutt? Change forms. Now. I’m not going to wait here all day.” Slowly, aching through it, feeling the emptiness of his stomach all the harder, Fenrir shifted into a man, and stared blankly at the other. The guard shoved him through the cell doors and threw a worn tunic at him, nothing else. Fenrir stumbled forwards, nearly into the few others who were there in case things got hairy, and stopped once again, swaying on his feet. He was so hungry, the idea of food make him physically ill. A smack to the back of his head almost made him fall, but it also snapped him back to himself, and he turned and snarled at the guard, snapping his teeth together. The man just laughed. “Put this on and go. Remember, back here by tomorrow morning. Don’t make me have to track you down.” He smacked his ass, earning another flinch. “Go on.” Fenrir shoved the tunic over his head, arms shaking as he did, and limped down the hall. Steve meanwhile was pacing the pits. The gladiator he was sparing with laid on the ground at his feet, groaning and he heard the whispers: That the past few weeks he had grown more aggressive and ruthless. He supposed he had...but the morning; asking the guards; demanding - to know where Fenrir was at again got him nothing but fustration and an increase in his worry. It had been a while and he worried. He worried and fretted. Was the boy dead? Hurt? Did they lock him away?...Steve didn't know and his demands and threats went unanswered. So he worked his aggression out in the ring; but looking down at the man, he realized it was time to call it quits for now. He nodded to men and turning; he headed for the baths. He'd get clean, wait. Meditate...and then go find another guard and demand more answers....<3 Steve. He had to find steve. He was hungry. Felt disgusting. He had to find Steve. He wouldn't dare get food. How was Hel? Jor? He hoped they were eating. Steve surely had been esting. Had to keep it up for the fights. Norns, he felt disgusting... Fenrir found himself in the baths. In a daze, he wandered around without any real direction, just focusing on where he put his feet so he didn't fall. <3 The shuffle of feet, the sound of roaming had Steve looking up - and he gasped. "Fenrir!" He calle; rising and quickly rushing to Fenrir and he hesitated; just for a moment, before he reached out to try and support hime. <3 Fenrir jumped, snapping his attention up and on -- "Steve?" He breathed. And -- he couldn't help it, he flinched as Steve rushed towards him, but it took him barely the span of another breath to go right back to leaning into the man. He let out a sigh, let his head fall onto Steve's shoulder, breathed in his scent, and collapsed against him. "Hi." he murmured, closing his eyes. "Heard y'r lookin' f'me." <3 The boy flinched - Flinched and looked dazed and- Steve's hand went to Fenrir's side and he felt thin to him and he growled a little as he wrapped his arms around him as the younger man leaned heavily on him. What had they done to him.... "Yeah...yeah, I was worried..." Steve whispred as he stroked his hand over Fenrir's head. "By the gods...what happened to you?"<3 "Mm..." Maybe he'd just sleep right here. Steve was warm, and his scent felt safe, even if Fenrir was too weak to wrap his arms around him in return. But he purred again to encourage the petting. And he smiled to himself. Steve was worried. About him. "Preparin'," he slurred. "Fer the next fight." He nuzzled against Steve's neck, a smaller movement than usual. "C'n you wash me?" <3 "Preparin?" Steve sounded angry. "What sort of preparing includes starving you?" He demanded, but didn't move, didn't stop stroking Fenrir's back and his hair- "That's a good way for your to end up dead." And oh...he did want someone to die - He thought about finding Fenrir's master. Of having the boy point him out...but....He thought of Sarah and he squeezed Fenrir very gently. He couldn't....so he sighed and nodded. "Of corse." He murmured. Taking Fenrir closer to the large stone basin - the tub that water flowed into from spouts on the wall and slowly drained away via drains set up in a way so that the tub; while it could get filthy at times, would eventually replace itself with fresh water. He stepped into the water and sinking down so he was sitting, Steve drew Fenrir into his lap and started to gently wash him. He smoothed his hand over skin, gently scrubbing. Gentle-gentle-gentle: And as he washed the sticky sweat and grit and who knew what else off Fenrir, he dipped him back, washing his head, supporting him as he thought about what he could feed the boy. He was hungry - but he knew; had seen it before on slaves that were too far gone - that a heavy meal was not good for someone overly hungry. He could make broth though: Make up a meal from his brailey and mix in bits of meat and cheese. He'd just have to make sure it was watered down enough that it wouldn't sit too heavy in the boy's stomach....He put his hand gently on Fenrir's belly and kissed his forehead. <3 He didn't remember closing his eyes, but now they were heavy and he didn't want to open them again, and Steve's touch was so nice. It was funny, he thought, how Steve's voice could be so angry and yet his hands be gentle. "Makes me fight," he explained drowsily, "Keeps me in line." His face scrunched up and he frowned against Steve's neck. "Amuses them." One hand slowly came up to grasp Steve's belt, as much as a return hold as he could muster right then. "Won't die." Fenrir let out a heavy, relieved breath as Steve drew him into the warm water, into his lap, and he weakly nuzzled at him while Steve oh so gently rubbed him down. It was so nice it made his chest hurt, and he didn't realize he was crying until Steve moved to dip him back, feeling cool air against his face. He flinched again, hands flying to Steve's shoulders and digging in to hold on, ready to fight, ready to keep himself from being held under the water. But the nerves didn't last long, because he could see Steve's face, his gentle eyes, the hands on him light and caring rather than harsh and shoving. The wolf let his eyes slip shut again as Steve rinsed his hair, a smile creeping up his lips as he felt Steve's lips against his head. He groped out for the gladiator's hand once he was upright again, and brought it to his lips, nuzzling his knuckles and palm, laying little kisses and kitten licks on it. <3 Steve felt his blood boil a little more. 'Make him fight'...He gritted his teeth. That was the stupidest....he knew well what it was like to fight on little food. It was foolish. Suicidal...He ached again to find Fenrir's master and end him... Instead he just focused on the boy and when he floundered; fearful, he made soft noises. "Easy...easy, it's okay...it's okay..just washing your hair. I won't let your face dip into the water, okay?" He assured gently. "Promise..." And he caught the wolf's eyes and continued: until he was done and helping Fenrir sit up. Until he felt the boy take his hand and felt the little nuzzles and kisses and his heart broke a little at the display. "Oh...Fen." He whispered. He let him be for the moment; letting him take comfort how he wanted it, he stroking his hair gently before he whispered. "Let's get you up and dried off and back to my cell...I'll make you some food." He murmured. "Just a little though. Just to get your strength back up and then you can have some more. You're going to stay in my room for the night too." He murmured as he started to stand, scooping Fenrir up bridal style. <3 "That sounds nice," he murmured, because it did. Staying with Steve. And -- they said he could, right? Yes. Morning, they said. Be back by the morning. He could spend the night. He wanted to spend the night, curled up with Steve, safe, if only temporarily. It didn't matter if his stomach felt empty, because everything else was warm and full. As Steve picked him up, Fenrir snickered into his chest, a bit dizzy, but just finding the display -- being carried like this -- oddly hilarious. But then -- "N-No, wait, no food. I -- I don't think they want me -- I shouldn't eat." <3 Steve paused and looked down at Fenrir. And was torn between letting Fenrir do as he thought he needed to..and knowing what he needed to do. He finally scowled and shifted Fenrir in his arms as he scooped up a linen square and dragged it over Fenrir before he walked bare out into the halls and to his cell. "I don't fucking care what they want - Starving you is going to get you killed." The gladiator growled. "...do you want food? Not if you shouldn't, or if they don't want you to have food...do -you- want food?" Steve asked softly against Fenrir's hair. <3 "I--" he licked his lips. Swallowed thickly. Eyes darted to and fro, waiting for someone to tug him away. His stomach churned and growled painfully. He wanted to but...Hel and Jormungandr... but then again, the guards didn't say anything about not eating, so far as he recalled. Just that he came back. Fenrir gnawed on his lower lip and finally, meekly, nodded. <3 He nodded and Steve sighed softly, relieved. He'd accept a meal...He kissed Fenrir's head and entering his cell; he closed the curtain, placed the boy down on his sleeping roll and leaned back. "Just a moment." He said, and turning back to his coal-pit, he stoked it, getting the embers hot and he placed a pot with water on to boil it and while that happened, he turned back to Fenrir. Hands stroked over head and face, he using the linen he grabbed earlier to dry the young man off. And as he worked, he murmured soft things. Some of it nonsense noises meant just to comfort, others he said he was here. That Fenrir was safe for now. That he wished he could get him away. Keep him here...he murmured all this and once his water was boiling; Steve peeled away and started to make up the porrage. <3 A whimper caught in his throat as Steve moved away and he reached for him, but settled when he realized Steve wasn't actually going anywhere. His expression eased, whole body relaxed once again as Steve stroke his head and face, down his body, drying him off. He drifted a couple times, blacking out and then coming back up in a few seconds, but Steve's gentle touch and words kept him calm. "Take you away, too," he murmured, cracking his eyes open again, staring at Steve with unabashed affection, an expression he would've tempered down on had he been less starved and dizzy. "Get you a farm. With your mom. Big house. Rooms for you, your mom, Hel and Jor. Herds of cattle and goats. Fresh milk, every day." He caught Steve's hand, squeezed it, stared off into the distance again as he drifted, not quite unconcious, and then came back with a giggle, glancing over them both. "I'd fuck you right now. If I could stay hard." And he collapsed into another fit of giggles which ended with his arm clenched around his aching stomach. <3 Steve glanced at Fenrir as he spoke, his gaze softening. "That all sounds very nice...you and me; keeping the place going, yeah?" he asked, as the wolf took his hand and he let Fenrir keep it as he worked. He had thought Fenrir had drifted off again - but the giggle drew his attention once more and he snorted; just a little, at his words. "It's probably for the best you can't. I'm afraid I'd break you right now-" He admitted softly..though he winced at the curling the wolf did. "You alright there?" He asked, a little nervous; worried Fenrir had hurt himself somehow in his giggling - So he made quick work of pouring the porrage into a bowl and he moved forward, once again kneeling fully beside the man. "Let's get you sit up a bit, okay?" <3 "Yeah," he agreed with a sigh. "We'd do good." He gave Steve's hand a squeeze, offered a half-hearted smirk. "You could break me all you'd like." He didn't really think about his words, they just came out, and he hardly even processed how little sense they actually made -- and then his eyes were on the porrage and he couldn't seem to look away. "M'all right..." His stomach just hurt. Empty and rolling and groaning and he could survive, he knew. Or just come back, even if he didn't. But he was hungry. And yet, still terrified to eat. Both at the possible future consequences, and that eating would just end up hurting more. "Kay..." he murmured. Let Steve sit him up. Let himself lean on him. He stared at the bowl, hungry and suspicious all at once as he whispered. "What if I get sick?" <3 The gladiator braced the back of Fenrir's head, across his shoulders. "I'd never break you. No permission or askance could get me to do that to you." He assured softly, fingers stroking through the boy's hair before he scooped up a bit of a porrage. "We'll take it slow. Just a few small bites. Then you'll let your belly rest. If you do get sick though, you can have my pot." He assured. "Or you can get sick on the floor. I won't get mad." And he blew on the spoonful before he held it to Fenrir's lips. <3 "But you'll fix me up?" He meant it as a statement, or a tease, but it came out far more pathetic than the wolf wished, prompting a wince. He relaxed quickly, though, at the soft strokes through his hair, and nodded again. Fenrir glanced at Steve, chewing on his lip -- he wouldn't get mad? He didn't really think Ssteve would, but... it was still new. "B-But I..." He stopped arguing, however, as he was faced with a blown-cooled spoonful. He licked his lips, eyes flicking from the porrage to Steve and back again, before closing the distance and wolfing it down. His eyes fell shut, he shuddered -- licked his lips. It was bland and thin and tasteless and wonderful. A  whimper escaped his lips. "More?" <3 "Always." Steve whispered gently. And he meant it. If he could, he'd keep this boy; this young man safe...but that wasn't either of their lives. Not yet...when he got Sarah out; then he'd focus on Fenrir. He could; he was so close with Sarah...So he mentally promised himself he'd find a way to free the boy and his siblings... For now, he watched the wolf gobble down the food. And the gladiator gently rubbed a finger over Fenrir's throat, at the side: Not at the front; at the senative area that might feel less good and more as if someone was about to squeeze there. His finger brushed up; against Fenrir's jaw and he waited a moment before he scooped up more and offered that too. "Just a little more..maybe one more spoonfull after this..." He said softly. "...can you tell me why they think starving you helps in your matches?" he asked. <3 Fenrir twitched at the touch, unused to something so soft against his neck, but relaxed within seconds, letting out a sigh. He let one of his hands settle loosely around Steve's wrist, slipping up and down with their movements, just rying to keep contact. He took the next mouthful eagerly, eyes open, licking his lips and chasing the spoon. It was a good thing Steve had control of the bowl, otherwise Fenrir wouldn't have been able to help himself. He whined for more -- no words, just a sound, like when he was a young pup pawing at his mother. "I don't always want to kill." His eyes tracked the spoon. "If I'm hungry, I lose more control. Want to eat more than anything. Don't think, just act." It made sense for beasts -- less for humans. But Fenrir was more concerned about that porrage right then. <3 Steve's eyes widened a touch....before they softened. He understood. Less focused, more instintual. But more dangerous: You paid attention less...could risk getting killed more... He was about to ask why they had Fenrir kill: That seemed expensive - to push the warrior towards gaining a bloody end...but the whimpering distracted him. Softened him and Steve stroked his hand up Fenrir's jaw to his hair. "Peace.." He said softly, taking the third and final spoonful; blew and offered it. "Savor it.." <3 Another whimper, softer this time, and he leaned into the touch even as his eyes stayed trained on the spoon, and it took everything he had not to just lunge for it. Peace, Steve had said, Savor it. He gnawed on his lip, trying to focus on that, on his words, but in an attempt to go slow he just got jerky instead, nearly spilling the spoon, but he quickly caught it up in his mouth and lapped up every drop. He squeezed his eyes shut, and single sob bursting forth. "More? More? Please? Gør þú svá vel?" <3 The begging broke Steve's heart; even as he put the spoon aside and he instead laid down next to Fenrir. He curled his arms about him, cradling his head - kissing his lips and forehead softly. "In a few hours. Rest a few hours and then you can have more." He promised softly. <3 He kept murmuring in his native tongue, softly though, knowing this was for the best, but gods did he ache. His body shook as Steve curled about him, pulling him in, safe and secure, and Fenrir just curled right into him, buring his face against Steve's neck, breathing in his scent as he shuddered. "Don't wanna go." <3 "You're not going to go anywhere." Steve murmured. "You're going to stay with me tonight." He assured. Had Fenrir forgot he was to stay? Steve wouldn't have blamed him if so - he was tramatized enough as it was. He soothed his hand through the wolf's hair again. "You're not going anywhere. Just sleep..just rest." He whispered, hand moving down Fenrir's back. <3 "Okay..." he murmured, clutching weakly at Steve. His eyes had shut, body relaxed from both comfort and exhaustion. "Gotta... gotta go back. Tomorrow. They said so." But he let out another breath, nuzzling against him once again to get settled, and drifted off. <3 "And that; my boy. I won't allow." Steve murmured very soft, but very dark and he stayed awake; eyeing the doorway for a long time. And he dozed after a bit; what only felt like a blink of his eyes, but he could see that the moon was up outside of his window. Early in the evening. He debated on waking Fenrir before he pressed his lips to his forehead and gently gave him a little shake. "Fen...Fenrir...wake up and we'll have a little more food, aye?" The gladiator whispered.<3 For a moment, his only reponse was a weak grumble, but then Fenrir jerked away, entire body flinching and eyes flying open. He grabbed blindly for the body next to him, but relaxed within seconds -- "Steve." He pressed his head back down onto Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes again, even as his stomach knotted and groaned painfully. After a moment, he nodded against Steve's shoulder. <3 "I'm here, I'm here, my boy." Stve murmured as Fenrir reaccessed the situation. Reaccessed where he was. He kept up his soothing back rubs and gentle kisses. "I'm here..." He whispered again before he sat up. "Easy...easy, be at peace." He whispered, even as he reached for the bowl and he gave the spoon a few swirls. "...Let's get your head up, yeah?" He asked, putting his hand under Fenrir's head.<3 Fenrir melted into the soft touches, sweet kisses, gentle murmuring. He floated for a bit, mind and body fuzzy, until Steve sat up. The gladator didn't really move from him, but just that motion made the younger one whimper, eyes flickering to him to make sure he wasn't going far. He followed his direction, pushing up a bit as Steve helped him, and licked his dry and bitten-chapped lips. "Why..." he watched Steve stir. "Why are you doing this? ...Taking care of me?" <3 Steve noticed the lick and he brushed his thumb across Fenrir's lips. Dry - He reached out, grabbing his piitcher and he poured a bit into his palm, slowly feeding a small stream into Fenrir's lips. "Drink...and why?" Steve frowned. "Because you are my friend and I take care of my friends...you are...more. And besides the fact; nobody should treat another like they're treating you. It's unjust and it's cruel." "It's....it's more ...words I don't know, because I am not an educated man, but I know that this isn't -right-...Fen...it's not right and I will not stand by for anyone to be treated as you are...so I do what I can and I do what I must for my friend, for my enemy even; but espcially for you, my boy. My dear, dear boy.." The gladiator murmured. Before he sighed and he slowed the trickle of water. "...when I am able..or when you are able...we will get you freed; one way or another...You will see freedom." He promised under his breath before he put the pitcher aside and instead recollected the gruel and offered a spoonful. <3 Fenrir drank from Steve's palm, the motion intimate and comforting, and he mouthed at the lingering droplets at the side of his hand. And it went to show how bad he felt that he made no comment, no suggestion, no innuendo. But he let Steve's words wash over him, turning them over in his mind. More, Steve had said. And he liked that. More. Not less. Not just. And his. It didn't make him feel owned, not like those who had taken him and sold him and bought him. But a choice -- given. Fenrir wanted to be Steve's. He met Steve's gaze and grabbed his wrist, gaze hard. "I don't need freedom. Jormungandr and Hel do." And he dropped his gaze, smoothing his thumb over Steve's pulse point. "Your mother does. You do." His attention shifted back to the spoon, and he licked his lips, opening his mouth to accept the tasteless gruel his stomach both craved and detested. He licked his lips again and while waiting for the next spoonful, ashed in a soft tone. "...am I yours?" <3 Steve reached out, gently rubbing his fingers against Fenrir's chin. "You do; but I know they do. I know my mother does...but you...you and your siblings...when they go, you go. I will do everything I can to see to that." He whispered. Promised, expanding that promise to the gods and swore silent oaths of moment to them that -he would- see Fenrir freed. Him and his siblings. He sighed, and offered a sad smile as Fenrir ate. Another thumb stroke, across the corner of his mouth-...and then he leaned close at the question and soft words bubbled forth. "You are. You're mine and I would be yours if you'd take me...am I yours?" He repeated. <3 Fenrir let his eyes drift shut again, humming to show he was listening. Eyes still shut, he gave Steve's wrist a gentle squeeze, where his hand had still looped gently. "I don't want to go without you, either." He murmured, and risked a glance up, feeling oddly vulnerable. Bare. But then he smiled, warming. It was one thing to hear such words, to babble such words in the midst of pleasure -- but here, in this quiet, if somber moment... Fenrir gave a soft smile, tipped up his chin so their noses could brush. "You're mine," he agreed. "I like being yours." He tilted his head into Steve's touch, and managed a little teasing look. "Can I keep you?" <3 His - He was Fenrir's as Fenrir was his and it had been a long time since his heart ached so pleasantly. He was his and vice versa. He nuzzled his nose against Fenrir's before he peeled open his eyes; having close them, and he smirked a little. "Keep me? Old sod that I am?...yeah...you can keep me until the end of days." <3 "Good," he smile was wide, if tired, but genuine. His teasing grins and lusty smirks often showed in his eyes, but this sheer affection in them now was rare. He tilted his chin to brush a little peck over Steve's lips. "I intend to. Old man." He blinked slow, still tired, and tilted his head a bit, glancing to the porrage. "Can I--?" <3 Steve returned the soft kiss as Fenrir's lips brushed over his. And he chuckled a little at Fenrir's teasing before he nodded and gently lifted the young man up. "I think you might e able to stomach the rest of this." He said softly scooping a spoonful and he offered it to Fenrir. "Easy still though...do you want me to warm it back up?" He asked softly. <3 Fenrir let Steve support him, which was such a strange feeling in and of itself, and then scooted a bit so he could sit up easier, but just listed over against Steve's shoulder again, this time more because he could, because it was nice, because he knew Steve would hold him up. "Mm-mm," he shook his head, taking a careful slurp. "Just stir it. Please." Between spoonfuls, he closed his eyes again, tucking his face into Steve's neck, breathing him in. He'd have to leave. Not yet, but before he was ready to, certainly. So he tried to just ... absorb everything now. "Steve... are you okay?" <3 The warm breath against his neck between the wolf's sips were nice. Comfortable. He rubbed his hand idly through his hair; breath calm and steady. Though his mind too was thinking about how long he could hold Fenrir. How long before he was forced to return him to his masters.....the thought was a bitter one and Steve chased it away; just as Fenrir questioned him. And he blinked a little. "Okay?" He asked, confused as he looked down at Fenrir. <3 Fenrir gave a little shrug. "They said you were--" his face scrunched up a moment, trying to remember. "Making a fuss. 's why they let me out early. So --" he rolled his head out a bit to blink at him. "Are you all right?" <3 "Ah...like that." Steve sighed and he kissed Fenrir's forehead. "...I was...being loud. Asking questions. Demanding if anyone had seen you...got...into a fight or ...two...over my fussing..." The man admitted. "....I...I was worried." He whispered, giving Fenrir a very gentle squeeze. <3 Fenrir gave a little smile, feeling warm. He nuzzled just beneath Steve's jaw again. "Worried about me?" He knew he had been, knew they both kept egging out little admissions of affection from each other, but Fenrir liked hearing it nonetheless. "I wanna take care of you too, you know." An arm was draped over Steve's middle, nearly resting in his lap, and he gave it a tight squeeze. "...When I can actually sit up on my own again, that is..." <3 "Of course...you're my boy....my friend...and I...love you. Of course I worried." Steve murmured, stroking Fenrir's hair gently. He did smile a ltitle though at the wolf's admission. "...I know you will. You make me happy; that's a start...." He just wished he could keep Fenrir safer.... He gave the bowl one more stir. "One more mouthful." He offered softly. <3 His eyes flashed up to Steve's, lips parted slightly. "You love me?" He whispered. It wasn't exactly a revelation. They'd been a constant source of affection for each other for some time now, had taken physical pleasure with each other a few times. But... to hear it said. Fenrir bit his lips as he smiled. He sat up a bit straighter, ignoring the bowl, and beamed at him. "You love me?" And he just kept brightening as Steve said he made him happy, because that in itself was an accomplishment for the wolf. "I do?" And then he finally opened his mouth obdiently for the spoon, still smiling somewhat dumbly. <3 "Y...yes. I do." Steve said, finding his voice again; it strong. Sure. He loved Fenrir...And he smiled to himself as his own mind processed with own words. He loved the boy. He loved him a great deal. Wanted him happy; wanted him healthy. Wanted him free...and he knew that he wanted this even if he wasn't in the picture-... "And yes, you make me very happy." He said as he gently brushed his thumb over Fenrir's lips to clear away the last of the gruel. "No more. In the morning I'll give you a little bit more breakfast though." He promised as he kissed his forehead and smoothed back his hair. <3 Fenrir beamed at him, clearing away some of the dimness on his gaunt face, licked at Steve's finger to get the last bit of gruel from it, and because he liked putting his mouth on Steve. He was still tired, still ached, but now felt warm and full. Perhaps not in his stomach, but in his heart? Certainly. He didn't even whine at being denied any more food. He shifted in closer, crawled into his lap, buried his face against the crook of Steve's neck. "I love you too," he murmured, stomach flipping at the thrill of saying so. "You make me so happy. Make things easier. Things... don't seem so pointless, with you." <3 The confession was both heartbreaking - that he was the one that made things easier: That Fenrir had little else beyond making sure his siblings were taken care of...but at the same time; Steve was glad he was the one that could ease the poor man's life. "I do what I can and I'll continue to do what I can." Steve whispered as he laid back down with the wolf. He pulled the blanket close and curling it about the smaller man, he kissed his forehead. Kissed him on the lips and stroked his hair. "Do you want to rest a bit more?" He asked softly.<3 Fenrir eagerly curled into him, burrowing into his warmth, closing his eyes as Steve kissed his forehead, smiling as he kissed his lips. He took his free hand between them and brought it up, entwining their fingers and tugging it up close to his lips, tucking his face along Steve's knuckles and holding on like a child. "I'd like that," he whispered. And he would. With Steve, he was warm and safe. He could sleep far better than when he was cold and starving and alone in his cell. "Steve?" He peeked up at him, biting his lip as he smiled. "Thank you." <3 And Steve opened his eyes; having closed them to rest with Fenrir. He stared into the man's greens and he whispered gently. "You don't have to thank me, but you're welcome." He murmured sofly and he cuddled him closer. "Sleep." He whispered ,rubbing his back. <3 He smiled, warm and dopey, and tipped up to kiss his jaw once before settling back down, squirming a little bit, and let out a contented sigh as the large, warm hand stroking down his back. The arms around him, keeping him close. The warm wall in front of him, keeping him grounded. It didn't matter that his stomach cramped, that his joints hurt, that he was tired down to his bones, because Steve was here. Steve wanted to be here. Steve not only wanted him, but loved him. The gladiator may not be able to protect him from everything, but he would damn well try, and Fenrir knew that. He would never be truly safe until he was free, but it was a relief to finally get a taste of it. The wolf fell into a deep sleep, his body still exhausted and pulling him down, not longer fighting to push him back up since he was far warmer and comfy than he was in his cell. Still, he woke, the light filtering in, and he could feel his little bubble of bliss slowly floating away, like dreams disappearing in the waking world. He had to go back. He didn't want to. Norns, he didn't. But his comfort was not worth the risk of Hel and Jormungandr's. Even if they wouldn't outright kill them, they had beaten his siblings before for Fenrir's insolence and disobidence. He never wanted that to happen again. Whimpering once, letting himself feel pathetic and small and young and like the world was too much for a moment, only allowing it within Steve's arms, he nuzzled at Steve's neck. "I need to go," he whispered. "They wanted me back this morning." <3 Steve's eyes opened before he sighed. He closed them; tight, before he whispered. "...are you certain?" He whispered. "...I could...could..." What? Nothing...he was a free man; yes...but there wasn't much he could do. Not when Fenrir's siblings were on the line... "....let me get you breakfast." And his voice was thick and his expression somber as he opened his eyes again and sat up a little.<3 Fenrir scooted up to press his forehead against Steve's, closing his eyes as well. He could practically feel the gladiator's helplessness at their situation, as he whispered the possibility of doing... something. Anything. Fenrir knew it well. It's what kept him in line. It prompted a painful pang in his chest to know he was the source of it for Steve, but... "I know," he murmured. He knew Steve would do what he could, if he could. When he could. But right now, that meant letting him go back to his captors. "Okay," he murmured, stomach tight, and let him move away some, but still clutched at his hand for a moment. He just... watched him. Took in the sight of his partner, his lover. Gave his hand another squeeze, swallowed thickly, and let him go. <3 "....do you think you'll be able to return tonight?...when is your fight?" STeve asked as he moved to the fire - but he moved back again. Kissing Fenrir gently on the lips, stroking his hair before he started to cook up a thicker and tastier bit of oatmash.<3 Fenrir shook his head, shoulders hunched. "I... I don't know. Either of those things." He shifted closer as Steve moved back, tipping his chin into the kiss and letting his eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch, whimpering as it went away. But he swallowed it back, licked his lips as Steve cooked for him. "They don't tell me much," he added in a whisper. <3 "...." And Steve sighed softly before he drew Fenrir close to his side; stirring the pot slowly. "...as soon as you're able, you can come back here." He said softy. "You can always come back here....whenever you need to." He promised before he poured a generous portion into a bowl and took out a bit of jerky from the bag by the fire and he pressed it into the goo before he nudged it close with his foot. <3 Fenrir tucked himself up close, nuzzling under his chin, soaking in the affection and nearness while he still could. "I will," he smiled some, looking up at him. He knew the invitation had always been there, but hearing it said still made him warm and fluttery. "Careful," he managed to tease softly, though his tone lacked his usual energy. "You'll never get rid of me." He licked his lips as he watched Steve stir, his mouth watering at the sight and scent of the jerky. His eyes flashed between it and Steve and -- it was one thing to eat mush and oats, another to be offered meat. Cooked and dried though it was, far from his prefferred warm and bloody kills from childhood, it twisted his stomach painfully. But he knew what a prize meat was for normal gladiators. "Are you sure?" He murmured, though couldn't help but lick his lips. <3 And Steve still smiled a little; despite the lack of energy. He glanced down at Fenrir and poked him gently on the nose. "Maybe I like to live dangerously." He chuckled a little before he spooned his own meal into the bowl and took a few more pieces of jerky out. And he glanced at Fenrir and nodded. "I'm sure...you need the protein to get yoru strength back." he murmured. "Besides, I see that look in your eyes. You want it..." And he tore off a bit of the meat and offered it between his fingers. <3 Fenrir giggled, dipping his head at the nose-boop, though it tapered off as Steve produced even more pieces of jerky. His mouth just kept watering, and he swallowed thickly, eyes focused in a way they handed been before as he stared at the meat. He was still, tense, dragging his eyes away to look up at Steve again and then he was holding it out ot him between his fingers and -- Fenrir darted forwards with the movements of something feral, swallowing the jerky down too fast and desperately lapping the remaining taste off Steve's fingers. <3 The hungry snap startled Steve more then anything - but the followup licking had his eyes soft, sad, and gentle as he let Fenrir do as he pleased. He then turned his hand, stroking gently at the wolf's jaw before he picked up the bowl. "Here, eat." He murmured, giving the oat-mash a stir with the bit of jerky. "And...then I'll...I'll walk you back." He murmured.<3 His mind was still a little too focused, blurry at the edges with the taste of meat on his tongue, the boy showing just a bit of his feral side, even as he closed his eyes and hummed, leaning into Steve's touch. He cupped the bowl in his hands and lapped up the oat-mash, gnawing on the jerky, not setting it down until he had licked it clean. And then he curled in on himself, just a bit, forehead pressing against Steve's shoulder as the food knotted his stomach. It wasn't much, but he should've eaten slower. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment, coming back to himself, taking in Steve's scent. Finally, a strangled noise fell from his lips, and he pushed to his feet, gnawing on chapped lips, and gave Steve a nod. "You don't have to come," he murmured, even though he knew he would. <3 Steve held Fenrir as he curled close. He rubbed his back and his head and when he finally pulled back; he shook his head a little. "I know I don't; but I'd like to." He offered gently. "If you'd like me to." And he stood slowly, offering his hands to help Fen up. <3 Fenrir clung to Steve's hands without hesitation. "We'll see how far they let you," he murmured, eyes downcast, and then took a breath, turned for the door. He kept one hand clutching at Steve's as he led them down the quiet halls, taking a few twists and turns rarely traveled by common gladiators, rough steps curling down. The last, narrow corridor had guards milling about, a few coming and going, and their presense caught attention immediately. A few jostled one another, whispered and gestured. Fenrir kept his eyes down. He halted at the familiar scent, familiar gait, and waited until he could see boots in front of him. The guard, one of his main handlers, one of the few who knew the most, tutted at him. "I didn't say to bring your friend with you." "Sorry, Savas." He murmured, shoulders hunched. He was still too weak for his normal snark. Savas hummed. "But you did come back when I told you." He patted Fenrir's shoulder, prompting a little flinch, and then yanked him forwards. The guard looked at Steve. "This is where you turn and go. And this is as far as you will be allowed if you come looking. Understand?" <3 Down...below the areana....Steve memorized the path, frowning a bit - and when he saw the guards he squared his shoulders and stood straighter. And he glared at the guard as his Fenrir flinched at the pat - and he sneered as he was jerked forward. He reached out, catching hold of Fenrir at his hip, steadying him so he didn't fall forward too quickly. And he kept his eyes locked -firmly- on Savas. "I'll see him to his bed." He almost whispered. <3 Fenrir tried leaning back towards Steve, but Savas's hand gripped his upper arm and squeezed, so the wolf stayed where he was, curled in on himself, eyes down. Savas sneered at Steve, an ugly look, and pulled Fenrir fully away from the gladiator while the wolf whimpered. "You'll turn around back the way you came, or I can give this one's," he jostled Fenrir, "Siblings a whipping on your behalf. How many do you think they should have, mutt?" He glanced at Fenrir, brows raised. The wolf's eyes flashed up to Savas, then back down, then to Steve. "Please... it's fine, Steve." He didn't want him to see anyway, to risk him coming and finding a wolf in the boy's stead, didn't want Steve to know. "I'll find you, later, okay?" Savas snorted. "If you survive your next fight, at least. We have quite the line up planned. Let's go," he shoved at Fenrir to push him farther  down the hall, farther from Steve. <3 Steve's eyes widened at the threat-...before he looked away. And he let out a soft sigh before he looked back at Fenrir. "Okay...Be well, Fen." He whispered. And he watched them walk away bfore he finally turned and headed back the way he came. He felt dirty. Unclean and guilty: But what could he do?...Nothing. Not right now....It didn't help the feelings one bit.<3