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go-river-flows · 1 year

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Sweet Visions of a flower

This story starts at the end of avatar 1 before going into avatar 2. I have been writing this for the last five days and have written over 30 pages already. TBH, I got distracted from writing Welcome Back to the Avatar Programme because I got really into this story lol. But I will have chapter seven of WBTTAP done and uploaded by tomorrow.

Summary: Syulang (OC), an orphaned girl after the destruction of Hometree. She is constanly reminded of this by her amputated left leg and constantly dreams of her deep trauma. Even when she gets adopted by Toruk Makto and his wife, who she resented for over six years before forgiving him.

Warning!: Mentions of death and Amputation

Part 1 of ?

I was alone. Waking up alone with a splitting headache and a broken leg. I sat up and looked around the ashen and grey sky. Coming to my senses, remembering Hometree was burnt to the ground. The sky people.

Pain radiating through my leg, the bone exiting my flesh at a strange angle. I mustered all my energy to crawl to the nearest fallen log about to climb over it, my eyes noticing a figure lying on the other side of it. The leader of our clan, Eytukan, fallen with a large splinter through his chest. The sight was horrifying. Our mighty leader, dead, beside Hometree. I sobbed with sadness and anger, howling at the loss, I looked around, seeing more bodies left and right. I couldn't just leave Eytukan dead all alone.

After crawling around the log I pulled him up and pulled him onto my back, seeing tracks that led away. I decided to crawl in that direction, like some kind of injured thanator carrying our leader on my back. Managing to crawl into the greenery, untouched by the flaming Hometree. Disappearing into the brushes and tall trees.

I don't know how long I crawled for, but I noticed that the shadows were growing larger, so I knew that the eclipse was nearing.

Still following Na’vi footprints, I managed to find them at the Tree of Souls. All gathered with their heads down, mourning the loss of their home. Pulling myself over the roots of a tree, I felt like I was about to pass out. My slow movements and heavy panting caught the attention of three of my people who sat at the entrance of the Tree of Souls. Their voices catching the attention of others, they realised who I was carrying on my back, rushing to our side. Worried voices came over as my eyes began to close, the blood loss from my injury overtaking me as I couldn't hold on any more.

Waking up, I didn't recognise where I was, panicking I shot up jolting my leg I screamed out in excruciation. A figure shot to my left, gently pushing me to lie down, her familiar face calmed me. Mo’at hushed me as tears spilled from my eyes, holding my hand.

“Sempul. Sa’nu,” I called out, where were they, “Sempul. Sa’nu.” I called again, wiping tears with my spare hand.

“Hush, dear. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Mo’at calmed me, she turned to call for someone, “Where are the girl’s parents? Look for them!”

She wrapped her arm around me, trying her hardest to calm me despite my wailing. I looked down to my broken leg expecting it to be in a splint or cast, but to my further surprise, there was nothing below my knee, only a wrapped stump. Shocked, I gasped, my vision went dark as I passed out again. Mo’at reacted quickly as my head rolled back and she gently rested it back down on the mat.

I was somewhere completely different, in someone's arms when I woke for the second time. They carried me, the gentle swaying waking me as the sunlight shone down, bleeding through the trees. The gentle warmth of it felt calming. The sound of their gentle footsteps taking me somewhere, another Na’vi approached taking me from their arms as the chirp of a banshee alerted me.

“It’s okay, we’re taking you somewhere safe, there’s a war coming so we’re moving the injured,” the man’s voice calmed me, “Some sky people stayed, Scientists, I think Jakesully said.” He gently raised my body to the banshee rider, gently holding me in his arms, trying not to make any harsh movements. He looked down and I could finally see his face, it was my dear friend Rumut who was four years older than me. His expression was hardened by sorrow but somewhat soft, sympathetic. He commanded his banshee to fly and we were in the sky. He looked down at me occasionally, securing his arms around me more. We flew past the Hallelujah Mountains, down to a large lake, approaching a large waterfall my friend leaned over me as his banshee flew into it, the cold torrential water poured over us as we entered a large cave. Descending at the ledge of the cave. Rumut disconnected his queue, holding my body close to him as he slid off his banshee. He walked amongst the injured, finding an empty spot amongst a crowd of injured.

Gently laying me down, he quietly wiped water droplets from my face, brushing hair behind my ear, his gentle hand caressing my cheek as he connected his forehead with mine.

“Where is my father? My mother?” I asked quietly, a part of me knowing they were dead. But I couldn't remember. He only whimpered, kissing my forehead.

“I'm sorry,” was all he said. He lowered his head, his lips lightly grazed mine, pausing a little before fully connecting them. He kissed me gently, as if afraid to break me and then pulled away, quickly taking his leave. I wanted to reach out to him and make him stay, he shouldn’t go into war, he’s too young. But I couldn't do anything. I looked at my leg again, seeing it clearly for the first time. Looking around I notice the Na’vi next to me, a familiar face. My father and mother’s good friend, Pawk. He shuffled closer wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in close.

He told me what happened, the full story about how Hometree fell. How my father saved him, and how my mother and his wife and daughters died. He was gravely injured when falling bark severed his left leg, but some young clan members dragged him away, taking him as they fled to the Tree of Souls. He though that I had died too. They transferred all the injured to the waterfall cave that same night and so they didn't see me.

There were only five healers and Mo’at who managed to survive. Three of them remained with us, trying their hardest to help everyone despite struggling. The next few days there was word going around that nearby clans were arriving to aid in the coming war, they brought some of their healers. As these healers arrived at the injury camp, they helped as best they could. One of the female healers from the Tipani Clan of the Umkansa village, though quiet, became a fast friend. Her understanding and kind nature brought us close. She was able to clean up the rushed stitching of my leg stump. Cleaning it thoroughly and wrapping it. She was experienced, I think she had to clean up many injuries much like mine.

The next day, she returned to my side with two weird contraptions made from sticks and woven in boning that looked very much like a leg, it even had bearings and a foot like my own leg. She attached it to my leg, fastening it above my knee. Before moving to Pawk’s side, attaching the other to his severed leg. I sat up looking at it, a prosthetic of sorts, and my own leg. I wanted to stand and stretch my leg after I haven't moved in days. Slowly getting up, she quickly came to my side helping me stand. It felt incredibly strange, only having one leg, but it felt like I could still feel the other. A ghost of sorts. I leant against my very real right leg, taking a timid step forward, I stumbled a little, the strange contraption catching my movement as it followed after. Oh Eywa, this will take getting used to.

The night before the war, we were visited by friends, loved ones,Tsu’tey, Mo’at, Toruk Makto. They had arrived to check up on us and say goodbye if they didn't make it back. Rumut sat by my side with his arm around mine humming a comforting tune.

“My little flower, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time,” Rumut confessed, resting his head on mine. “I wanted to make our bond, but I fear that if I don't return, it will break you,” He kissed the top of my head. We watched as Tsu’tey, Mo’at and Toruk Makto, Jake Sully, approached. They knelt down, in front of us. Rumut sat me up and rested his hand on mine, a reassurance.

“We want to thank you Syulang. Thank you for bringing Eytukan to the Tree of Souls,” Mo’at proclaimed with a proud and thankful expression, “Thanks to you, Eytukan can rest peacefully.” She bowed her head to me, Tsu’tey and Jake Sully doing the same. Slightly nervous and unsure about what to do, I just stammered.

“Y-y-you don't need to thank me,” bowing my head down, mirroring them.

“No! You were selfless, you were gravely injured and yet you carried our Olo’eyktan to the Tree of Souls. No one else did. Just you,” Tsu’tey declared, his usually stoic face fell, a single tear fell from his eye.”Thank you.”

“You were really brave, I heard everything from Mo’at. From everyone actually. You were everything people were talking about. We owe you a deep gratitude. Thank you,” Jake Sully affirmed, he smiled a grateful smile.

“I see you, Syulang,” Mo’at greeted.

“I see you,” Tsu’tey and Jake did the same.

“I see you,” I returned tears welling up.

They returned to their feet and continued visiting the injured around us. Rumut placed one final kiss on my lips before joining Tsu’tey and the rest of the visiting war party. He waved, and with sadness in his eyes, he smiled brightly exactly like the first time we met. I returned it hoping he would return in one piece.

The following day, the whole injury camp was completely silent. I sat with the other children further into the cave, as the injured adults and capable teens who could wield weapons huddled near the entrance. We listened and waited just in case any intruders had found us. The air was thick as everyone was all on edge. I sat with a bow and basket full of arrows. Everyone still. The only resounding sound was the waterfall that hid us from view. We sat in trepidation, for Eywa only knows how long, but it felt like forever.

Finally, when a banshee flew into the waterfall, scaring the lot of us, a soldier landed on the cavern floor. Roaring out a cheer, everyone sighed in great relief. The air no longer felt suffocating. In no time Pawk found me, pulling me into a protective hug. His heavy breathing and pounding heart was a reminder that we were alive.

We had to wait for reinforcements to retrieve the injured. The children were taken first, then those who had extreme injuries, then finally the rest of us who survived dismemberment.

Not wanting to wait any longer Pawk called for his banshee, bringing myself and another injured child. What followed was heartbreaking. The sight of the aftermath of war from above. We flew to the Tree of Souls where everyone had gathered with either injured or dead soldiers. Our numbers have dwindled drastically. Looking around desperately for Rumut, I fumbled on my feet, still not used to the strange prosthetic leg. I fell into Toruk Makto’s arms. Eyes scanning the crowd of dead. My dark green eyes falling on a familiar figure next to me. Rumut. Dead. His eyes still open, I pushed myself out of Toruk Makto’s arms clambered to Rumut’s side, sobbing unyielding tears as I held his body in my arms. Holding him tightly, desperately feeling for his warmth. A pair of warm large hands embraced my shoulders, rubbing circles trying to comfort me.

A rage filled my stomach. The rage for the death of all sky people. The rage to avenge my loved ones. The rage of my lost home.

Next Chapter –>

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zacharybosch · 11 months

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Tell Me if You Feel It

Through the fire, Stede’s eyes and the pearly snaps of his neat shirt glint in the flickering light. “Something about me, like what?”

Fresh, is the word that immediately springs to mind, along with soft and bouncy and unspoiled, and Ed doesn’t say any of them. “Just something. Not a bad thing. Nice to have someone I can show the ropes to.”

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hello and welcome to my ed/stede brokeback mountain AU! E-rated, 7k one-shot, nobody dies but it is bittersweet ❤

title is from Supermoon by case/lang/veirs, please also check out my spotify playlist for some additional sad cowboy vibes

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read Tell Me if You Feel It below or on ao3!

🤠

The great flock of sheep rolls across the high pasture like clouds on a stormy afternoon. It’s a cooler summer than most he’s had in his so-far short life, colder still up here on the face of the mountain, and Ed tucks his jacket a little tighter about his body. He twists his mouth to curtail his smile as he watches Stede, this shiny well turned-out boy, trotting circles around the herd and standing in the saddle to show off and wave his pretty little hat, high peals of laughter carrying away on the wind. Ed’s not been up here since the start of the season, his role as camp tender requiring him to stay further down the mountain, but the sheep needed fresh grazing and moving a flock this size takes more than one man. Nice to have some company for the day besides, and Stede seems happy enough to have him there.

Ed chews on the cheroot sticking out of his mouth. He won’t light it yet; only got a few left and the man from the ranch isn’t due to meet them with supplies for a couple more days, but he savours the taste, bitter tobacco and something leathery and old. His horse, a sweet-tempered mare with a ruddy chestnut coat, whickers softly and shifts her hooves against the earth. Impatient to be off, tired of the saddle and the man on her back, but Ed rubs a soothing hand on her neck and she’ll stop and wait for as long as she’s told.

Stede comes trotting over, pink cheeks puffing out beneath the wide brim of his hat, and his own piebald mare flicks her eyes at Ed. “Beans for supper?” he asks, even though he doesn’t have to, since they’ve been up here a month now and consistently eat through the good stuff days before the next scheduled supply run.

Ed plucks the cheroot from between his lips and tucks it behind his ear. “Beans for supper,” he agrees, then clicks his tongue and presses in with his legs and points his horse on the trail back to camp, knowing Stede will follow behind.

At camp, Stede brushes down the horses while Ed gets the fire going. Some of the firewood’s a little damp and Ed mutters idle curses as he tries to encourage the struggling flame, but soon enough it starts to catch and he slowly adds logs until it’s burning strong and bright.

The beans aren’t so bad. They cook them in the cans and eat from them too, spoons clacking against the cheap metal, no point dirtying pots and bowls for this. Stede always looks thoughtful when he eats, and Ed supposes it’s because this is all a novel experience for him; it’s clear Stede comes from money, with his jeans still dark and stiff at the seams, boots that have only just now started to crease after a month of wear, gold and teal stitching bright on the shaft. Begs the question why Stede is even here, what a well-heeled boy like him could possibly be looking for up in the wild mountains.

They’ve talked some in the month they’ve been up here, although not much and never for long. Practical concerns mostly, what the weather’s doing and which horse has a stone in its shoe and how soon should they move the sheep on to the next pasture, never going too personal save for one time Ed caught sight of a coyote prowling the camp, big son of a bitch that had already taken several of their lambs, grabbed his .30-30 Winchester and got it clean between the eyes first try, and Stede whooped and hollered and breathlessly asked where he learned to shoot like that. Only one other time he’s taken a shot that clean and Stede wouldn’t like it if he knew about it, so he just shrugged the question away and kept his talk superficial, tended the camp and minded his business while Stede rode in and out each morning and evening.

Stede’s not the kind of company Ed would normally choose to keep; always difficult to know where you are with white boys, not to mention rich ones, even if they smile and shake your hand with a litany of pleasantries, and it’s oftentimes too much work to stay on their good side with no reward to show for it so Ed just doesn’t bother. But it’s been lonely up here too, and the solitude can eat a man up from the inside out if he’s not careful about it. Ed needs company more than he cares to admit, and over the metal scrape of spoons in cans and the jumping crackle of the fire, he starts to think maybe that need could be met.

He kicks the conversation off with the blandest thing he can say, safe and cautious and still more personal than anything he’s allowed in the past month. “Did this last summer, the herding. Thinking I might go for next year too, if they’ll have me back again.”

Stede immediately perks up, sitting to get a better look at Ed across the fire, pushing his hat back with an excited, thoughtless gesture. “An old hand then, are you? It’s my first time here.”

Ed looks down at his can and smiles as he scoops up the dregs of food. “I can tell,” he says, and maybe it’s the wrong thing to say, because that’s just the kind of inoffensive and gentle poking that gets boys like Stede so wound up, so he qualifies it with, “Not that I mean anything by that. Just something about you.”

Through the fire, Stede’s eyes and the pearly snaps of his neat shirt glint in the flickering light. “Something about me, like what?”

“You are good with the sheep. They’ll be pleased when it’s your turn up the mountain, I think.”

“I spent my whole damn life sleeping with sheep, been nice to get away from them for a while to be honest,” which isn’t all that honest, because Ed finds a good deal of comfort in the dumb beasts with their serene yellow eyes and distant, soft bleating. Growing up on a lonely, windswept ranch, earth blown flat in every direction as far as the eye could see, no children about and no safe place to be other than wandering with the sheep, far from the house and the darkness that lived inside.

“My daddy owns ranches, but we never lived on one,” Stede says, as though plucking Ed’s memory from his head and placing his own alongside it. “A whole lot of them, all across the state. He worked hard to make a good life for our family and now he hates me for enjoying that life, hates me for not working hard like he did. Thought he might like it if I put some work in here, lighten up his dim view of me.”

“Is that so,” Ed says, face neutral and heart beating at Stede’s honest, ready admission.

“I hope I’m doing a good job.”

If a man can hate his own son for the simple fact of his existence, then there’s no job in the world that can be done good enough to gain his favour back. Stede is still trying to shut that barn door, but Ed knows the horse has already bolted. “You are.”

Stede smiles at him across the fire, a forlorn thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s kind of you to say, Ed. I know I could do better.” Quiet settles between them for a minute, just the crackle of the wood and the rush of sparks as the pile of logs collapses in on itself a little more. “To tell you the truth, Ed, I’m dreading going back home at the end of the summer. I don’t think he’s waiting for my return. Pleased to be rid of me, most likely.”

Nothing Ed can say to that, nothing real that will make a lick of difference. What platitudes can he give when his own father hated him just as much? “Do just fine on your own, I reckon. A man’s gotta leave home some time, anyway. Better to do it now, strike out when you’re young.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“In a way. Choice was made for me, really.” Normally Ed wouldn’t go into it, or he’d spin some fanciful yarn about seeking his fortune, answering the call of the big wide world. But Stede told him something true, and Ed wants to give a truth back. “My folks aren’t around. Old man kicked it some years ago. Mama went last year, bank tried to take the ranch to pay off all the debts we got left with, stress of trying to fight it sent her to the grave earlier than she should’ve gone and then the bank just took the ranch anyway. I put some work in at a few places since then and they’ve usually been willing enough to give me a space to lay my head at night.” Ed pushes the long tail of his braided hair away over his shoulder, taps his spoon against the side of his empty can, anything to do that isn’t looking at Stede’s open, interested face. “Do just fine on my own.”

“It’s lonely, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Can be.”

Ed isn’t quite twenty; Stede only just. Little more than boys really, too young still to be carrying this kind of weight with no idea yet how to ease their burdens, but it’s good to have a friend where they hadn’t thought to find one.

Spoons rinsed in the stream, blue shadows stretching long over the packed earth of their camp, Stede wheels his horse about in the muted dusk light and canters off up the trail to spend the night with the sheep. A week or so more and they’ll switch, and Ed will be the one to sleep up on that lonely mountain slope, while Stede stays and tends the hearth with a tent big enough for two. He wonders if Stede will ever glance up to watch Ed riding about on the slopes, a little dark spot in the steep meadows, the same way Ed has been watching Stede.

He sits up a while and smokes his cheroot in the gathering gloom. It eats through the stock of firewood, and he’ll have to spend most of tomorrow replenishing it, but he keeps the campfire going until long after night has fallen, a pinprick beacon for Stede to look down at and know someone is waiting for his return.

Stede comes in to camp mid-morning, just as the chill starts to yield to the heat of the day. Ed is down in the stream at the camp’s edge, freezing naked in the shallows as he crouches to wash his only shirt and the rest of his body, and he hears the sound of hooves but doesn’t look up at it. Stede will grab some food and refill his canteen, take a few minutes to go into the tent under the pretence of putting on a clean shirt but Ed knows it’s so Stede can fix his hair with a fresh helping of pomade, and then he’ll head back on up the trail to spend another day with the sheep.

But this time Stede lingers, comes out of the tent with his new shirt and neat hair and circles ponderously round the campsite. He glances repeatedly at Ed, fusses with his gloves and the horse’s bridle, and then decides he needs to freshen up at the stream as well and Ed wonders, dangerously, why.

Ed scrubs the hard bar of soap under his arms, splashes at them with the icy mountain water, then pulls his hair from its tight braid and wraps the red cord tie around his wrist for safekeeping. The color is vivid against his skin as he combs wet fingers through his hair, shaking out the grit and dust of the trails. Upstream, gaze drawn by the bright slash of color or maybe something else altogether, Stede watches, and turns away when he’s caught.

“See if I can’t shoot us a couple of cottontails, have us a nice supper tonight,” Stede says, as he pats water from his face with the sleeve of his jacket and goes to haul himself back up into the saddle. “Maybe the good whiskey, too. Still a few drops left.”

They won’t be eating rabbit tonight, Ed knows for a certainty. Stede can hit a big slow target and not much more than that, but there’s no good reason to snuff out his optimism and besides, the whiskey is good. “I’ll skin ‘em,” Ed says, as Stede’s already cantering away, and only when the sound of hoofbeats has melted into the forest does he rise from the stream and lay his wet shirt out on the banks to dry.

He spends the day replenishing the stock of firewood, shivering at first with no shirt to wear and then sweating as the sun beats hot on his back and the exertion of the axe takes its toll. He chops, and thinks about the little travel case filled with Stede’s shirts and stowed in the corner of the big tent, how he could just go in there and take one and wear it. He chops, and wonders what Stede was thinking when he packed it, if he could’ve known how anyone else out here with him besides Ed would’ve sneered and judged him for it. He chops, and thinks about fine blue cotton, white piping, pearly snap buttons.

Early evening, with the sky just beginning to drain pale and his own threadbare check shirt dry and back on his shoulders, Ed is half-heartedly wondering if it isn’t too late to ride down to the river to try and catch a fish or two when Stede comes trotting into camp with a brace of rabbits hanging from his saddle. He holds them aloft triumphantly, grinning at Ed, and Ed laughs, short and loud and full of delight. “You got ‘em!” he says, and slaps Stede’s thigh because that’s what’s in reach.

“I got them,” Stede replies, pride in his voice, and his leg is solid, flexing briefly under Ed’s touch before the mare walks on towards the hitching post.

The campfire catches easily and builds to a strong blaze in no time at all. Ed skins and dresses the rabbits with the quick, thoughtless efficiency of muscle memory, and soon enough they’re enjoying the richest meal they’ve had all month, washed down with the whiskey passing liberally back and forth. Stede pulls out a harmonica, this ridiculous and luridly-painted thing that Ed had inwardly rolled his eyes at first time he saw it, but Stede’s good humour for it is infectious and Ed husks out a few bars of some silly country song, voice stumbling a little over the words and inventing those he can’t remember.

Night rolls in without them even noticing, too caught up in the simple pleasure of good food, good whiskey, and a good companion to share it with. Stede is sparking like a fire and wobbly on his feet, and insists for at least a minute that he’ll still go and ride up to the sheep, but then he looks at the dark line of trees and the charcoal shadow of the mountain against the sky and decides a blanket down here by the fire will do him just fine.

“I’ll just curl up here by the fire, grab a little shut-eye and be right as rain before you know it. I’ll go up to the sheep at first light.”

“You’ll freeze your fuckin’ balls off out here,” Ed says, head buzzing and handing over a blanket anyway. “Just come sleep in the tent.”

“No, it’s your tent, Ed, I couldn’t impose. Besides, nothing like forty winks under the stars. Invigorating!”

Ed sighs, drops a couple more logs onto the campfire, and bids Stede goodnight. A brief hour or two later, awoken by the wild yipping howl of a coyote and then kept awake by the incessant chattering of Stede’s teeth, Ed sticks his head out of the tent flap and demands Stede quit his shivering and get inside. The campfire’s burnt down to softly glowing embers, and Stede rises quickly, as though already poised and ready and simply waiting for the invitation. He stumbles towards Ed through the messy remains of their supper, and once inside he sighs relief into the blankets. Ed shifts to make a little more room, and they both settle back into sleep.

The stars wheel across the sky, chased by a moon that’s one day from full. The horses, pleased to be spending the night together, nuzzle and lean into each other at the hitching post. Partially-burnt logs crumble and sink a little deeper into the ashy remains of the campfire, as the last of the embers slowly dim and wink out of existence.

Unthinking in the dark of the tent, blurry with sleep and moving on instinct, Ed reaches behind himself to find Stede’s arm and curl it around his torso. It’s good for a few moments, nestling back as he’s pulled closer, warm and comfortable with Stede’s breath puffing softly against the nape of his neck, and then it’s not; Stede stiffens and bolts upright, panicked. Ed, quick to wake and reckless, sits up and reaches for him, and reaches again when Stede reflexively pushes his hand away.

They hang for a moment perfectly still, eyes locked across a short distance that stretches for miles. Then Ed pulls hard at the sheepskin jacket he’s been sleeping in, yanks it off his shoulders and he thinks Stede gets it now, can see understanding in the shadow of his eyes as Stede grabs and holds him tight at arm’s length, taught on a string ready to snap. Moving carefully, like he does with skittish horses and barking dogs, Ed wraps his fingers around Stede’s wrist and drags his thumb over the thin skin, pressing into his hammering pulse.

It’s all Stede needs. He pulls Ed towards him, and breathing hard in each other’s space, they fall quick into the steps of a dance that Ed knows well and Stede is learning as he goes. Ed’s already unbuckling and unbuttoning, jeans loose and open as he gets to his hands and knees. Stede fights with his own belt, lets the hiss of his zip fly say the words that his mouth can’t form yet, but he’s moving no less fast or urgent, pulling at clothing to clear the way, and then he’s right there pressing hot and hard against Ed’s body.

It’s rough, easing the way on nothing but spit and a prayer, but Ed can take it, he’s done it before. Likes it like this sometimes, feeling it the day after and knowing it happened. Stede’s breath is on his neck again, short and sharp and hot like the hand that yanked his jeans down to his thigh.

This is the only way it could’ve happened. Maybe they’ll do it again and take their time to roll in the blankets all soft and sweet, but it had to start with this; rough handling in the dark, driving forwards eyes shut, taking the most direct route to the other side where possibility lay waiting for them.

Ed’s never come so quick or untouched before, the immediacy of the encounter overloading his brain and sending him straight there when he barely has his wits about him. Above, pressed tight along his back, Stede grabs Ed’s waist to steady himself as his own hips grind and stutter and still.

For a few breaths neither of them move, and then Ed’s shaky arms give out beneath him and he sinks to the blanket. Stede says nothing as he slips abruptly from Ed’s body, but he lays down too and curls in towards Ed with a careful few inches between them. The tent is hot from their exertion and Ed can feel every single part of his body fevered and glowing and alive, but he doesn’t move, just keeps his eyes shut and breathes in and out, deep and slow. In the humid air, beneath the weathered canvas and above the musty blankets, Stede smells like horse, dry grass, and the good whiskey.

Rain came and went at some point in the night, and Stede rides out early the next morning with hardly a word, disappearing into the dripping trees. Ed takes his chestnut mare and two of the pack mules down to the road at the river crossing, picking their way carefully down the mountainside over the steaming, fecund earth, meets the man from the ranch and loads up their supplies for the next week. Ed wonders if the man can tell, if he can look at Ed and see the mark of Stede’s hands on his hips, the scalding red burn of his breath on the back of his neck, sore to the touch and wanting it.

The man from the ranch sniffs as he reads over Ed’s request list for the next delivery, mutters just like he always does that he’ll have a hard time getting it, but he’ll be back next week with most everything they’re asking for. He sniffs again, nods to himself, dismissing Ed with no parting look or word and gets in his dusty pick-up to drive off. Ed climbs back into his saddle and begins the long trek back to camp, the river rushing loud in his ears.

Back at camp, Ed busies himself stowing the provisions and brushing down his horse and the braying mules, and more times than he cares to admit looking up the mountain to catch a glimpse of Stede, a tiny speck in the great swathes of green and white and grey.

The golden hour before sunset is just beginning to spread its burnished light across the clearing and Stede still hasn’t arrived back to camp yet, but Ed knows he’ll come and knows why he’s leaving it late. He gets the fire going, puts yesterday’s rabbit bones in a pot with water from the stream, peels and slices a few potatoes with his sharp little knife, opens one can each of some over-processed, under-colored meat and vegetables. It all goes into the pot, perched precariously on the grill stand above the fire. There was a block of lard and some flour with the new supplies, coarse stuff that the ranch owner’s wife likely didn’t want, and Ed thinks he can probably cobble together a fair enough dough for biscuits to cook on the hot stones at his feet. He doesn’t know exactly what it is that he’s preparing for supper, but he’s thinking harder about it than he’s probably thought about anything in his life and he wants Stede to like it.

When the hoofbeats come the sky is pink and orange, grey-lavender clouds gilded copper at the edges. Normally one for a perky little trot or canter, Stede enters camp at a slow walk, reins in one hand and something small and curious bundled in the other. He slides from the saddle, ties his horse to the hitching post and pats her briefly on the neck, leaning in when she presses against him.

At the fire, Stede looks at the two logs that serve as their benches, and sits on the one where Ed isn’t. It’s not a statement, just nerves, and Ed looks at what Stede’s got in his hand: a few scrubby little wildflowers, small bursts of petals in yellow, purple, white.

“From up on the mountain,” Stede says, even though there’s nowhere else he’s been today. He reels off their names and starts to go into the Latin too, then seems to think better of it and says instead, “Not much to look at but they smell sweet as anything.”

Ed puffs on his cheroot, flips his lighter end over end between thumb and fingers while he considers the stew bubbling over the fire, then takes the can that held the processed vegetables and holds it out silently to Stede. The flowers go into the can, Ed stands the can on the log bench, and he can see Stede’s smile from the corner of his eye.

They talk little while they eat around the fire, mopping up stew with Ed’s middling attempt at stone biscuits, sharing a can of peaches in syrup for dessert with no small amount of skittering glances and almost-touches, not drinking the whiskey despite having a new bottle and waiting patiently for it to be too dark for Stede to ride out to the sheep. Speech comes in stops and starts, shying at intimacies, until Stede says, “I have a gal back home. You know.”

“Yeah,” Ed says, knowing the script, “so do I,” even though he doesn’t have a gal and doesn’t want a gal, but knows that he should and knows that one day he’ll have to.

“We’re just— passing the time.”

“Yeah,” Ed says again. “Scratching an itch.” But if Stede gets the itch the way Ed does then it takes a damn lot of scratching and ends up worse than when you started. All you wanna do is scratch and can’t think of nothing else.

They don’t discuss it any further than that, and why would they, what need is there? They both know what they’re doing and no-one else is up here to demand an explanation of them. It’s nobody’s business but theirs.

Night is fully upon them, the sky deep and black and fathomless with no trace of the lingering sun; just the blazing spray of stars and the huge, glowing moon, bathing everything silver and blue. It’s their permission to look at each other, look away, look again and hold it this time. Ed goes first, takes the little kerosene lamp and lays himself down in the golden tent with his bare back on the scratchy wool blanket, and knows Stede will follow.

When Stede comes he pauses at the tent flap, hat in his hands, shy as a gentleman asking a sweetheart if he may have this dance. Ed sits up and reaches for him like he did last night, but this time Stede doesn’t push away, just lets Ed guide him in, touch his cheek and bump their noses together, rasping stubble as their mouths move haltingly in something that wants to be a kiss but isn’t quite there yet. Stede clings to Ed like he can’t stand the fact that eventually he’ll have to let go, and Ed whispers “it’s alright, it’s alright,” just a breath in the still air around them, no louder than the campfire that crackles beyond the tent.

They ease down to the blanket, propped on their elbows, face to face and a scant inch between their bodies, legs tentatively brushing and beginning to entwine. Ed rests his palm softly against Stede’s chest, circles a finger around the pearly snaps on his shirt, and pops them one by one at Stede’s slow nod. Stede still has his boots on; Ed’s toes curl and stretch in his bunched woollen socks.

The tail of Ed’s braid hangs over his shoulder and trails against his chest, endlessly pushed aside during the day but somehow always finding its way back, and when Stede puts his fingers to it Ed thinks he’ll just push it aside again; but instead Stede takes one end of the red tie cord between his fingertips, and pulls slowly, gently, until it slips from Ed’s hair. Ed holds so still, a faintly disbelieving puff of breath escaping his lips as Stede puts the cord aside and strokes tentative fingers through the already unravelling braid.

“Look at that,” Stede murmurs, the fluffy wave of Ed’s hair now completely loose and tumbling over his bare shoulder, the scent of woodsmoke mingled in the strands. “Lovely.”

“Don’t need to charm me,” Ed says shakily, wanting all of Stede’s charm and more besides.

“I know,” Stede says, soft and a little bashful, like he hopes Ed will allow him the indulgence anyway. “Have you done this before?”

There’s already a tacit agreement between them that this summer up here on the mountain exists outside of time and the real world, different rules and different lives and a different way to think of things. But asking about real life is dangerous, and even knowing this the desire to answer still claws raggedly in Ed’s throat, desperate to be given voice. Instead, he kisses Stede properly, hard and insistent. He’ll figure it out in his own time, whether the realization comes tomorrow morning or ten years down the road, Stede will think back on this and he’ll know that Ed has done it before.

Ed slips a hand beneath the fabric of Stede’s shirt and peels him out of it, his warm fingertips chasing away the last of the nighttime chill that still lingers on Stede’s skin. They lie down and pull their bodies flush and begin to move on instinct, thighs slotted together, a slow exploratory grind of hands and hips while they kiss and kiss and kiss. Stede makes noises, tiny breathless things, and he does what they both did the night before and wordlessly pulls open the button of his waistband, sends the zip fly hissing down.

Another breath, another moment of stillness to stop and look at each other; Ed drags his eyes from Stede’s face to his open jeans and back again, and Stede blinks and licks his lips and nods.

Ed curls his hand inside the denim, sliding over the soft, furry skin of Stede’s backside, and he squeezes and Stede cries out and then they kiss, again, wet and hungry. Ed grabs and pulls and Stede goes where Ed hauls him, sliding a leg up and over to straddle Ed’s hips. He’s sweet and excited about it, nervous beyond hope but so eager to learn what Ed has to teach.

Hardly any instruction manual required for what they’re doing. The body knows even if the mind is unsure, and they press together in a slow grind. Ed pulls his own jeans open, heavy buttons of his fly popping one by one and they’re maddeningly close, just a flap of fabric to fold this way instead of that and then they’d be touching, really touching, but neither of them makes the move. It’s a barrier they didn’t have to think about the night before, when everything was dark and happened so quickly and they touched themselves but hardly each other. Here now, the kerosene lamp bathes them in a light they can’t hide from, throws warm shadows between them at the final frontier. For a while they just stay as they are, teetering in the moment, not pushing forward nor pulling back. But soon enough practicality forces them over that line they were both too wary to be the first one to cross; Ed’s button fly is little worry, but Stede’s zip has sharp little teeth and with the insistent force of their grinding hips, it’s an accident begging to happen.

“We’re taking these off,” Ed says into the press of Stede’s mouth, tugging at one waistband and then the other, and this way they’re crossing the line together, no-one to go first and risk the other not following. It’s a tangle of hands and legs and Ed has a couple inches in height over Stede, but Stede is still long and wiry in that way young men often are, like they’ve been stretched too much one way and not the other. Slim legs, Ed notes, pale against his own, less hair.

Stede’s dick, pink and full mast, is heavy alongside Ed’s, nestled and warm. Ed puts a careful hand at the back of Stede’s knee, slides it up his thigh and digs a thumb into his hip, then across the hard plane of his stomach and down. Like their first meeting outside the dingy trailer that served as the ranch office, firm handshake in the hot afternoon sun while dust from the road whipped about their feet, Ed takes Stede in hand and holds him tight.

“That’s—” Stede tries, but the rest of the sentence isn’t forthcoming. Bracketed above Ed haunch and elbow, his back ripples as he finds the rhythm of Ed’s touch and pushes into it. Between the slide of their lips Stede admits, “Never kissed anyone like this before.”

Truth be told Ed hasn’t either, not really. Kissing is for romance, and romance is in short supply at the places he’s been. “Feels good?”

“Feels good,” slips sweetly from Stede’s mouth, as they rock and rub and moan together. “I, can we—”

“Yeah?” Can’t even let Stede get all his words out, feels like it doesn’t even matter what he might be asking for because the fact he’s asking is more than enough and Ed will say yes to any and all of it.

“Like last night, I want it.”

“Yeah, yes, I can take it again—”

“No, I want it,” and Stede presses himself harder into Ed’s hips.

“Oh shit, fuck, okay, have you—” can’t ask, shouldn’t ask, of course he hasn’t. “There’s things we should do. We need to prep.”

“It didn’t seem so difficult last night,” Stede says with this coy little smile, and Ed could ride a thousand good-tempered horses across a thousand summer mountain ranges with bluebirds singing and whiskey flowing from the springs, and none of it would make him feel like this.

“Think about— how it is with a woman. They have their own way of keeping things moving easy down there. We gotta improvise.”

At Stede’s uncomprehending look, Ed twists his torso to reach Stede’s travel case and the little grooming kit that he knows is stashed inside. Stede doesn’t get off of him or rise up even one inch to allow space to move, and Ed likes being pinned under him like this, likes Stede heavy and solid in his lap.

“This’ll help,” Ed says pointedly, prying the lid off of Stede’s tin of hair pomade and swiping a finger through the slippery oil.

“Oh,” Stede breathes, a little worried crease fluttering between his eyebrows. “Last night, I only—”

“Don’t worry about it,” and he can’t say ‘I’m used to it’ and definitely not ‘I like it like that’, but he can say again, “This will help you.”

“Oh,” Stede repeats, and Ed can see his brain ticking over as he figures out the answer to ‘Have you done this before?’ “Okay. Alright.”

They sink into another kiss, Ed trailing slick fingers down Stede’s flank and around to stroke against the tight furl of his entrance. Ed shakes as he goes, possessing all of the experience and so all of the fear too; fear that this is the point where it will end, that Stede will come to his senses, pull back, accuse Ed of seduction, perversion and worse. But Stede simply melts against him, takes Ed inside his body like he’s spent the last month waiting for it, and Ed shakes a little less and moves a little more.

It’s Stede who eventually reaches between them, when they’re overly hot and slick with sweat and about ready to shoot off like summer fireworks, pulls his palm up and down Ed’s cock a few indulgent times and then pushes it behind him and up where he wants it.

Like a lock and key they fit together, shaped for each other and sliding easily into position, but it’s a moment more before they try to move in this new configuration. Just looking and breathing, a sweaty palm to a hot cheek, a barely-there whisper of, “You’re here, this is happening, I’ve got you.”

Stilted at first but gaining confidence, Stede begins to move above Ed, following his body’s instinct up and down, back and forth, still trying to kiss even as their mouths bump and jolt and miss their mark. He sits up in Ed’s lap, chasing a better angle, brow furrowed above closed eyes and open mouth, and Ed thinks he’s never seen something so beautiful. Pink skin in the warm lamp glow, coppery curls tangled and bouncing, strain in his thighs as he tries to build momentum and can’t quite manage it.

“Come on, cowboy,” Ed says, with that wild runaway mouth of his. “I’ve been watching you ride this past month, I know your seat’s better than that.” But Stede’s uncoordinated in his movements, doubting the way his body goes, and Ed gets it, he does; it’s hard to be up there in the driver’s seat, being looked at like this with nowhere to hide. So Ed pushes up on one hand, presses his forehead to Stede’s and holds his hip to guide the lift and roll. “That’s it,” he breathes, words soft in the space between their lips. “Ride a horse, you can ride me.”

“Nothing like this,” Stede sighs into Ed’s mouth, cradling his head, hair spilling over his fingers. “There’s nothing like this.”

“Not a damn thing in the world that feels like this,” Ed agrees, kiss to shuddering kiss.

Stede is an accomplished horse rider; he has a straight back and fluid hips and long, strong legs, and he uses them well. He meets Ed push for push, grind for aching grind, peppering kisses over his jaw and down his neck, but he still can’t quite keep the pace they need to get where they want to go. Rough hand splayed against Stede’s sweaty back, Ed begins to tip and roll and Stede clings to him as they go.

Landing with a small puff of breath and a sweet little laugh, Stede is relaxed and easy on his back, pulling Ed against him, taking him back inside his body with nothing shy or hesitant about it. Ed grins against his mouth, kisses him hard and picks up the pace full-throttle, pulling Stede’s leg up to curl around his waist and driving into him, the jut of his hip bones against the creamy, freckled skin of Stede’s inner thighs.

Beneath him Stede moans, a sheen of sweat on his chest, hands gripping hard at Ed’s shoulders, his neck, whatever he can reach. Their kisses are barely kisses, just hot, gasping slides of lips and tongues.

Ed’s body is lit up, fire-bright and coiled tight, brain and mouth not working in sync as he babbles, “I’ve never— It’s never felt like— God, Stede, do you—” and then white-hot, breaking through, his orgasm comes crashing in like a summer storm, deep and thundering, rolling through his body, and he holds himself tight against Stede as he pulses inside, filling and marking him.

His head is thick, fizzing with electricity, only Stede’s wrecked voice cutting through, “Ed, Ed, please—”

He murmurs into the crook of Stede’s neck, “Hold on, I’ll get you there,” holding himself up on shakily-planted elbows, still pressed in heavily between Stede’s thighs. Ed grips Stede’s cock, slippery between his fingers, and strokes him firm and quick.

“Not far to go,” Stede says, breathless, the rapid rise and fall of his chest in time with the thrust of his hips as he moves to meet the rhythm of Ed’s rapid strokes. Hands at Ed’s back, nails digging in, he drags a matching set of long welts over Ed’s shoulder blades as he comes, arching up against Ed’s chest, clenching around him with his trembling thighs. Stede holds him hard enough to bruise, and Ed wants it, and when eventually they peel apart and lie flat on their backs, side by side and panting, Stede tangles their fingers together and Ed wants that too.

The tent is hot, the air syrup-heavy against their naked skin, and before long Stede crawls on wobbly knees to the opening and ties back the flap. He sits for a moment to enjoy the cool air, framed against the triangular slice of their shadowy camp, the black trees, and the brilliant night sky, and he looks back at Ed.

They don’t need to say it; they both know that they feel it.

After the rough efficiency of their first time, after the sweetness of the second, they fall into an easy pattern, initially only inside the tent but then outside it too. Up in the high meadows above the treeline, no work down at camp that can’t wait until tomorrow, rolling in the grass in the hot afternoon sun; suppertime around the campfire, potatoes sizzling in the dented pan, a little smoke and a little whiskey and an easy, familiar slide into unhurried intimacy; in the chill dawn, pale ghost-light and mist, back up in the saddle after another night spent leaving the sheep to fend for themselves and leaning down to steal a parting kiss. A hundred domestic scenes played out in miniature, more than just a warm body to press against at night, all fueled by the knowledge that none of it will last and the foolish hope that maybe it could.

And all the while Ed can’t grab the reins on his thoughts, galloping away a mile a minute to places he absolutely should not go: what if Stede came back next summer and they got to do this again? What if he found where Stede lived, paid him a visit, and they went away for a while, just the two of them in some remote cabin, no work to be done and all the time they wanted to hunt and fish and fuck? What if they got a ranch, built up a little cow and calf operation together down in the valley, or maybe out on the plains? A herd of their own, a bed of their own, a life of their own.

It’s staggering, how much Ed wants it. No way to unthink any of the things he’s thought, not now he’s looked them in the eye and allowed them to make him ache. And that’s just the problem, isn’t it? Once you acknowledge it you really start to feel it, and then you have to deal with the fact that you’re never going to get it, and there’s no way it won’t hurt now. They’ve not been merely passing the time, they both know that. They’ve been trying to live a whole life in one short summer, taking what they can because it’s all they’re allowed to have.

It’ll end because it has to end; no two ways about it, the color and heat of summer will drain from the land as the sheep are brought down off the mountain, and life with its relentless march onwards will demand that they act in roles that allow no space for the tender thing growing between them. The day will come, soon, and it’ll hurt, and maybe it’s best to end it like they started, pushing through it rough and quick; easier to watch a bruise fade, a raw scrape heal over, skin knit back together. Because how can you know when something’s done and healed if you could never even see the mark of it to begin with, if all you had and all you’ve got is a shift beneath the skin, a terrifying feeling that something has irrevocably changed and no clue how to fix it?

The day will come. But for now there’s sheep to watch and the camp to tend, and so long as they remain on the mountain life will wait a little while for them yet.

#ofmd fanfic #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd #our flag means death #my fic

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wh0refornikolailantsov · 11 months

Note

prompt: "I'll stay for as long as you need"

with Tamar x reader please:))))

Comfort of my WiFe.

Cure Your Ills - Tamar Kir Bataar

Content Warnings: Vague Mentions Of Injury. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Hi, hello, just a little warning that I'm lowkey unwell as f u c k right now, and if this isn't up to par, blame the fact I am struggling to perceive reality and to see more than vague shapes and colours xoxo.

You are sat, legs crossed on the chair opposite Tamar's bed, face buried in a research log of David's. "Should I be suprised that this is your idea of healing time?" Genya asks from the doorway.

"David asked me to run some ideas," you stop realising that Genya is probably here looking for the book. "David sent you?"

"You are just like my husband," Genya laughs, extending a hand for the book. "He doesn't know how to relax either."

"I'm restless," you say, handing it over. "I cannot do anything."

"That's the point of rest," Genya reminds you.

"I don't want to rest," you counter.

"You miss her," Genya's words ring all too true.

"I'm very miss-able," Tamar says entering the room before you have a chance to respond. You are moments away from springing up from your seat when Tamar gives you a gentle warning look. "If you move at all darling, we are having words, you are supposed to be resting."

"I shall leave you two to it," Genya says, shutting the door behind her with a heavy click.

Tamar leans down to kiss you softly. "I missed you aswell, for the record."

You get curled up, leaning your head on Tamar's shoulder, letting her being back make you feel so much better. "You can relax you know," she mumbles pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I can," you agree, "now that you're back. How long will you be back?"

"I'll stay for as long as you need" all that reassurance, all that love, in one setence.

"However long?" You poke, trying to swindle a gentle promise from her. She rolls her eyes knowing exactly what you are doing, but she let's you get away with it anyway.

"However long."

"Great," you settle into her. "So, how was your trip?"

"Diplomatic, boring," Tamar starts to explain the arrangements she made and the list of people she had to play nice with, and even better yet the people she wanted to cut down but restrained. You listen, the sound of her voice the homecoming you had been looking for. The rhymth of her gentle patterns traced against your skin, the missing pieces that were keeping you from feeling yourself. Keeping you from healing, but she is home now, your home has returned to you and you can finally truly rest.

"You alright there? Am I boring you?" She asks, tracing those same gentle patterns further up your arm. You shake your head, barely a movement but she understands how tiring it is to long for someone and the depth of relief once they're back, so she takes no offence in your exhaustion.

"I'm just glad to be home," you whisper.

"You're glad I'm home?"

"I meant what I said," you inform her, looking up through tired eyes, and placing hand against her own as she holds you closer. "You are home, Tamar, and I am glad to be here."

#tamar kir bataar #shadow and bone #grishaverse #tamar x reader #tamar kir bataar x reader #tamar kir bataar my wife

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meenawrites · 1 year

Text

More about Trudy and Spider because I have no chill

SO we don't know much about Trudy unfortunately other than the fact that she was an absolute badass who could fly like nobody's business and had a good moral compass.

But I've been thinking about what her backstory could possibly be like, and thinking that she would probably reveal it to Spider after she finds him in despair about his parentage.

I think the scene would go something like this: (also warning this is written immediately and with no editing so not my best work)

Trudy finds Spider crouched in one of the scientists lab chairs, some video log playing before. She blinked several times, trying to chase the sleep from her eyes. His eyes were wide as he watched. Fat, silent tears shone in the screen's light as they rolled down his cheeks, and the voice finally hit her. That familiar lilt and baritone voice, the commanding air.

"Papa Dragon is–"

She slammed the off button, breathing heavily. Spider jumped at the violent action, and she swiveled the chair to face her.

Fear was etched into his small face, fear and horror. He hiccoughed as she crouched down to his level, holding his knees to his chest.

"He's my dad..." he whispered in a voice so small, so broken, Trudy was sure her heart broke with it. He had been bound to find out someday. It wasn't even really a secret, but she had wanted to be the one to break it to him, to gently talk him through it. Perhaps unfiltered access to the lab's computers hadn't been the best move.

"Yeah, he is," she said delicately. There was no sense denying it, and the kid deserved the truth.

Spider's eyes welled up with fresh tears again and he buried his face in his knees. The kid didn't cry often, refused to really. He hadn't even cried when he'd broken his leg catching baby Tuk when she'd al but walked off a tree branch. But this, this was what made him cry.

Trudy's face hardened, and she wrenched Spider's face up to look at her.

"Hey, kiddo, look at me. Look at me. It doesn't matter who your parents are, alright?"

"This-this is why Neytiri doesn't like m-me. It makes sense," he stuttered, fighting her hold. "She should–"

"Hey! You listen to me, that is not true. You are not your parents, and that damn Neytiri should know that."

Spider was still hiccoughing and trying to pull himself from her grasp, so she grabbed his from his underarms, sat in the chair herself, and pinned him in her lap.

"You are not responsible for whatever your dad did, you got that?"

"But–"

"Not buts!" she insisted, tightening her hold on him. "I need you to get it through your brain that it has nothing to do with you. You didn't choose who your dad is. No one does."

Spider finally relented, turning his face into her chest and allowing himself to be held. She pressed her nose to the top of his head, rubbing her hands down his arms.

"What if I become like him?" He mumbled into her tank top. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"You won't," she asserted, shaking him once. "Just because you're someone's kid doesn't mean you'll turn out like them."

Spider's continuing hiccoughs and chest spasms told her he wasn't convinced.

"I mean, look at me, bud. I'm nothing like either of my parents."

He stilled in her arms at this admission, peeking up at her through tear-clogged eyelashes.

She sighed, resigning herself to her fate.

"My dad was a hard-ass who never wanted a girl, so he didn't really know what to do with me. He was what you'd call a workaholic and was hardly ever home. And my mom..." She bit her lip, rolling the words in her mouth. "she had no self-esteem to speak of and let my dad walk all over her. She raised me to be the opposite of everything I am now–don't be independent, stay quiet, stay submissive and you'll find a husband. As if any of that crap had worked for her.

"And I decided I would be nothing like either of them. I joined the military as soon as I could, which went against all the bullshit feminine standards they wanted me to fit with. I got my education, became the best damn pilot I could, didn't give a shit what people wanted or expected me to be."

She glanced back to the kid in her arms, smiling a bit as she noticed that he was no longer crying.

"Moral of the story, kiddo: it doesn't matter who your parents are. You can be whatever you want to be. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, you come running to me, and I'll beat them up."

Spider cracked a watery smile at that.

"What really matters is in here," she said, knocking on his chest. "You've got a good, strong heart. Listen to it, and if you ever doubt it, you come ask me, okay? Cause I've got you, you know that right?"

Spider nodded, one of his hands clenching in the fabric of her shirt.

"Good. Now let's get your ass to sleep. You're sleeping next to me today, got it, ya rascal?"

She stood before he could respond, his arms looping around her neck as she adjusted his position.

She'd remind him as many times as she had to that he wasn't his parents, wasn't anything like Quarritch. She could spend her life doing that if it stopped him from crying.

#Trudy is Spider's mom #I love Trudy #Trudy stan #Trudy is my wife #avatar 2 #Spider Soccorro #Spider Socorro #avatar the way of water #my AU

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lesetoilesfous · 1 year

Note

hi!! happy friday! maybe hawke/isabela with a florence + the machine lyrics prompt: 27 - I’m the same, I’m the same, I’m trying to change ?

Hello happy Friday! Thank you so much for the prompt <3 Oh it's time for my girls.

(If you’d like me to write you a da2 fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: f!Hawke/Isabela

Characters: Marian Hawke, Isabela

Tags: old women in love, dysfunctional relationships, 'it's complicated' on dragonbook, canon-typical violence

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

"Blood and ashes, my knee." Hawke swears as her leg buckles, but Isabela is already there, chest warm and scraping past her face as she neatly eviscerates the bandit on his way to gut her. Blood sprays warm and salty into Hawke's mouth, and she scowls whilst Isabela takes a moment to massage her own wrist. "You'd think you might have become a slightly tidier killer in the last three decades."

Isabela scoffs and doesn't look at her, whirling to meet their next assailant. "Where's the fun in that?"

Hawke's frown deepens as she pushes herself up, pressing the heel of her palm into the meat of her thigh for leverage. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Despite the fact she's visibly out of breath, Isabela makes a point to huff a sigh in Hawke's direction before flicking a knife at an archer twenty feet away. The ease of the action is belied by the way she compulsively flexes her fingers, after, lips pursing as she rubs her knuckles. "It doesn't mean anything, Hawke, it was just a stupid joke."

Hawke puts both hands on the head of the next attacker and boils him alive just to feel something, her palms searing with the heat of it, hot enough to bubble with a blistering burn. Isabela frowns, folding her weather-beaten face into a map of sunbright wrinkles like a treasure map.

It takes seconds for Isabela to meet her, but in that time she's already tugged a poultice from her belt and unfolded the cloth bundle, pressing the clay-like, cool herb mixture over Hawke's palm. Hawke grits her teeth to hide her relief, but judging by the way the lines around Isabela's mouth tighten, she doesn't buy it.

"You don't think I'm fun any more." Marian accuses.

Isabela rolls her eyes. "No, I think you're old -"

"You're old!"

"And no less foolhardy." Isabela finishes, as if Hawke hadn't interrupted. Her steel-grey curls blow in the wind like waves on an angry sea. She finishes wrapping a linen cloth around Hawke's ruined palms and steps back. In the direction of her mount - and past it, the blue promise of the ocean. It's less than a day's ride from here. Hawke had run into her less than a day ago.

As she so often does, Hawke speaks without thinking. "You can't just -"

"What?" Isabela asks, and her brown eyes flash in the waning daylight like fire. "I can't what, Marian?"

The words sour and die in Hawke's throat. Something else comes out instead. "I only just found you again."

Isabela's mouth tightens, and she turns her head away. She has far less laugh lines than Hawke these days, the skin around the corners of her eyes almost as taut and soft as it ever was. "I know."

Isabela is not quite as quick to climb on her horse as she once was, but Hawke is slower too, and by the time she thinks to move, Isabela is riding down the sand-strewn path toward the cliffs. Briefly, Hawke entertains chasing her; getting on her own mare and making her stay.

But age has, if not made Hawke wise, certainly made her less likely to keep making the same mistakes. Besides, the ache in her knee is splintering, and the pain in her hands is beginning to overcome the wild rush of adrenaline. So she stoops, growling at her stiff shoulders, and begins searching the corpses.

By the time she finds Isabela's bandana, folded neatly into one of the dead men's stiff fingers around a piece of parchment, evening is stretching her long dusky fingers across the golden land. Hawke stands, cracks her back, and kicks a log a little further into the fire.

Then she unfolds the salt stained paper, brushing her fingertips over the soft texture of it. Isabela's writing is scrawled across the page in brown ink.

Antiva City. Cloudreach.

Hawke stares at it for a moment, committing it to memory. Then she drops the page into the campfire and reaches for the flask of whiskey in her vest. When she drinks, she drinks deeply, looking out at the sea. She thinks she can make out a galleon, lurching toward the line where the tide meets the horizon.

But then again, her eyes aren't what they used to be.

#DADWC #hawkebela #isabela dragon age #marian hawke #zenstrike #hope you enjoy!

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ajkesiah · 2 years

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Ben Hargreeves x fem! reader

Ben is alive in this story and is 1-2 years older than reader (or the same age), reader is 19-20 in this story. (Or you can choose whatever age you want) and this is not edited so there will be lots of mistakes.

Y/n's pov:

I plopped down on my bed as I sighed heavily. My mom just yelled at me and started an argument and now I'm grounded, she took my phone and ugh I just hate this. I grabbed my laptop and sat up against the wall side of my bed. I logged in my account and went on my messages. Since I can't use my phone I'm using my laptop to talk to Ben, my best friend.

"hey ben, got grounded again 🙄. I'm using my laptop to talk to you rn but can we hang out? like maybe go to Griddys?" I typed and sent the message.

A few minutes later I got a notification

"hey y/n! Sorry, I was talking to klaus but of course, I can pick you up in 10 minutes?" Ben replied

"okay, see you 😋" I closed my laptop and changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt/hoodie. (or wtv you wanna wear)

I tried my hair and checked the time and went outside to see Ben in the driveway, waving. I walked up to the car and opened the door to the passengers seat.

"hey y/n, what's up?" Ben asked at he pulled out of the driveway and drove to Griddys.

"nothing, just stressed really," I put both of my legs up so my knees up to my head and I crossed my arms over them as I leaned closer to the window.

"oh okay" he replied.

I closed my eyes and took a quick minute nap until the silence got interrupted by ben, "we're here" ben told me. "mk" I mumbled and got out of the car as Ben did. Ben opened the door for me as I walked in before him.

Ben and I sat down at the chairs in the front. I sighed as I put my arm out and rested my head on my palm. Agnes walked up to us, "the usual?" She asked since Ben and I come here alot. "Yep" Ben replied while we both nodded our heads. Agnes walked away to get us our donuts and a drink.

"So, what exactly happened?" Ben asked me as I sighed and turned my head towards him and put it down in my arms.

"My mom started yelling at me because I'm lazy, always on my phone, laptop etc, and then she started this whole argument and I 'talked back' when I didn't even talk back! And then she took my phone away again!" I rolled my eyes and paused as I sat up and faced him. "Oh! And I even responded in a nice tone, I didn't even raise my voice! Ughhh" I groaned as I ran my hands through my hair.

Agnes put our food in front of us and we thanked her.

"Damn y/n, you need to move out or something, you're an adult now, you can choose whatever you want." Ben mentioned to me.

"hm whatever" I said while chewing my donut.

(JELLY POWDERED DONUTS OMG 😍)

(Time skip)

After talking and eating, Ben and I were walking out of Griddy's to his car.

"can I move in with you guys?" I asked while looking at Ben.

"Of course, I'm sure the others will love for you to move in." Ben told me.

"okay" I chuckled as we both got in the car. (IDK TO LAUGH OR NOT IDK JUST SAY YOUR SENTENCES HOWEVER YOU WANT, IM AWKWARD)

I crossed my legs in my seat and and closed my eyes. "Can we go to my house really quick to pack my bags?" I opened my eyes and looked at Ben. "So soon? Sure, I'll text the others" Ben told me. "okay" I pulled out my phone and scrolled through tiktok. We arrived at my house and I took out my keys and opened the door. My mom was at work and my sister was at school so no one was home.

(sorry if you don't have a sister or siblings)

We went to my room and I plopped down on my bed, "did you ask the others yet?" I asked Ben, "yeah, they said you can move in" "yay!" I jumped off my bed and pulled out my suitcases and backpacks and played some music. Ben went through my drawers and put some clothes in a suitcase while I put my other clothes hanging up and other stuff in there.

I didn't need to tell my mom I'm moving out because I told her countless times that I'd move out one day and possibly stay with a friend or the hargreeves, until I could get enough money for my own house, maybe.

After we talked, danced, sang, and packed my stuff I took the back packs down as Ben held the suitcases. We put some of the stuff in the car and had to go back in for other stuff. I sighed as I dropped down on the ground as I panted heavily.

"that was so much work, I'm sweating so bad," I drank my water and put an ice pack behind my neck. "Eh not so much, you're just weak," he laughed. "hey! I am not weak!" I remarked. "Yeah whatever, get inside, we need to get back cuz it's getting late." Ben spoke. "Is it hot in the car?" I asked while looking at him, "no, it's cool, come on!" He responded. I sat up and sighed as I opened the door and sat in the car. "Oh my goodness! It's so nice in here," I said as I rested my head back on the headrest.

Ben stopped outside the academy and we got out of the car and we took some stuff in. I opened the gates for Ben and we got inside the house.

"Hey guys! We need some help here!" I yelled

Luther came down the stairs as he looked at us, "what's going on?" Luther asked us. "Y/n's moving in, you heard right?" Ben explained. "Ohh right, gotcha" Luther responded, "anyway, we got a bunch of stuff in the car, could you get it please?" I asked Luther.

Right after Luther went out of the Academy, the others soon came down.

"oh hey y/n!" Allison exclaimed and hugged me. "hey allison," I said. We pulled away and I whispered "I'm moving in!!" "Yay!!" We jumped.

I said hello to the others and they all helped getting the stuff from the car and helped me settle into my new room. We got all the stuff in there.

"Wow, I'm dead" Ben sighed.

(get it? OKAY SORRY)

"yeah, this was tiring" I lay down on my bed. "it's like 12 o'clock" Diego mentioned, leaning on the door frame. "12?" Vanya said, "mhm," Allison responded. "wow, well thanks you guys for helping me move in here," I told them all.

"no problem y/n" Diego said

"mhm, well I'm going, bye" five spoke as he teleported away.

After saying good night Ben stayed last. "Hey ben, can u set up my bed please, my pillows and blankets are in that thing," I asked pointed at the bag with my sleeping stuff in it.

"yeah" Ben took the stuff out as I rolled down to the floor and just lay there.

"there," Ben told me. "Thanks, I'm so tired omg" I sighed as I immediately fell down to my bed and got under the covers. I was that tired that I immediately started snoring in a deep sleep.

"well, goodnight night y/n" Ben whispered as he walked up to my sleeping form and moved my hair out of my face to kiss my forehead.

(I AM SO TIRED SO I JUST DECIDED TO FINISH IT HERE, I CAN TRY TI MAKE MORE PARTS LATER, BUT I HOPED YOU ALL LIKED ITTT <33)

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annaphoenix1994 · 1 year

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Ch.34 - The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Laswell receives information regarding the cattle crime; Kiera makes contact with someone from her past.

The following morning, Simon refused to let Kiera up early as he viewed five a.m. to be too early for anyone to get up to work, in his opinion. "Babe, I need to get up." She sighed, showing no sign of getting up herself, pressing her head against his chest as she turned over, Simon embracing her gesture and rubbing her bare arm.

"It's Saturday, love," He sighed. "You've been up early all week. You need rest."

"I need to find out who killed our cattle."

"And you will, but you can't keep searching unless you don't rest first."

She sighed against his chest, rolling her eyes as she did as she was told, Simon's face holding a smirk with victory as he got up when she did.

Every day.

And he didn't want to get up early on a Saturday unless he was on duty.

A few hours later, Simon awoke to peppered kisses against his bare chest. His favorite way to wake up if he were to be honest. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the other gripping her arm as a way to tell her he was awake. "We overslept." She whispered, a giggle following suit.

"Worth it." He mumbled, moving his body to where he was between her legs, his warm skin colliding with her cold stomach, goosebumps erecting on his arms. He nestled his head under her breasts, hearing her heartbeat increase as she giggled, his arms forcing themselves between her body and the bed seeking warmth.

Her fingers splayed through his dirty-blonde hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp comfortingly as they both enjoyed the position. He promised himself he wouldn't stay in the position long due to the worry of crushing her with his weight, but she kept insisting he stay where he was every time he tried to get up, both dozing back off once relaxed.

Kiera's eyes fluttered open to the sound of her phone ringing. Looking to her right, she noticed it was a familiar caller responding to her voicemail. She kept combing her fingers through Simon's hair, unaware that he had woken up the minute he heard her phone vibrating, his position concealing her view to his face. "Hello?" She sighed, putting the phone on speaker and setting it beside her.

"Kiera, I'm sorry I'm just now hearing your voicemail. Have a good Christmas?"

"Oh, yeah, aside from an entire pasture of cattle being killed, it's been good." She scoffed.

Laswell sighed over the other end of the phone, "I'm sorry. How can I help?"

"I need you to run a name through the FAA database."

"I'm in front of my computer now," Laswell replied. "Shoot."

"Look up Hershel Shepherd."

Simon's gaze peered up at her, his eyes connecting to hers as they could distinctly hear Laswell typing on her keyboard on the other end of the phone.

"Seems like he owns a plane," Laswell replied. "He's not a licensed pilot, though."

"He had someone else fly it." Kiera mumbled under her breath.

"Hm?"

"Nothing," She replied, sighing. "Where's it being kept at?"

"Looks like it's being held in a private facility just outside of Powell, Wyoming. I'm not seeing any recent flight logs."

"That's only about an hour from here," Kiera said, Simon noticing that her heart rate was increasing. "Are you saying this motherfucker had the balls to "relocate"?"

"It's hard to say. Many people with judicial power have locations all over the map for privately-owned equipment."

"Yeah? Well, this is too much of a coincidence," She raised a brow. "Who's the pilot on the flight logs?"

"Hold on," Laswell replied, intense typing muffling the silence through the phone. "Looks like the most recent flight was performed by a Malcolm Childress. Does that name ring a bell?"

Kiera sighed heavily, "It sure as shit does. How recent was the last flight?"

"I'm seeing a test flight and inspection done on December fourteenth. Nothing after that."

"How many logs is he on?"

"He's on all of them so far."

"Run his name through the FAA, too. Get me current address."

"Sure, give me a few minutes. I'll call you back and let you know."

"Text it to me. I'm going to get ready."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything else."

Simon watched as Kiera hung up, a sharp glare in her eye - a glare he only recognized when she was on the battlefield.

She was on a warpath.

Kiera pat Simon's bare shoulder, assuming that he was still asleep when he looked up at her, his tired eyes begging her to stay in bed longer instead of conquering the brutal Wyoming weather, but he knew better than to beg her.

She yawned as she forced herself to sit up in the bed, the chilled air kissing her shoulders and causing her to shiver. Simon watched her dress, admiring her battle scars that littered her feminine skin.

She was incredible.

"Care to join me for breakfast?" He asked, coming up behind her to stare at her through the mirror, watching her study the insecurities he saw as beauty.

She nodded, "Always, babe,"

He kissed her neck at the nickname he grew to love as much as her. "Just wish you'd led me cook breakfast for once." She continued.

He shook his head against her neck, "Gotta get up early to cook me breakfast, love."

She scoffed, "I do! You just don't let me get up!"

"I know." He smirked, pressing another kiss to her neck, feeling her sigh.

"You up for a drive today?"

"If you want me to," He replied, looking at her through the mirror, seeing the worry on her face. "What about the guys?"

"Hell they can come too if they want," She snickered. "I shouldn't need another gun today."

"I'll always be by your side, love. Don't ever think I won't. I'll go get Soap and we'll come with you."

"Okay," She nodded, glancing at him through the mirror before turning to face him. "This is my life, babe. You sure you want to stick around for it?"

"Like I've said before, I don't care what life throws at me. As long as I'm with you."

"I can say the same, baby."

"Was hoping you'd say that." He chuckled, looking down at her to watch her lips get closer to his.

She hummed against his lips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her fingers toying with the chain of his dog tags.

"You ready?" Simon asked Soap as he slipped on his coat.

"As ever." He nodded.

"Where's everybody else?"

"Down at the ranch. They're dying to help out and live the lifestyle," Soap replied. "Can't blame them. There's not anything like this where we're from."

"I know."

The pair walked from the house, meeting Kiera at the truck, seeing both Lawson and Frankie approaching her on horseback, each carrying a rifle in their scabbard. "How many?" She asked, walking up to them.

Lawson pulled a notepad from his vest pocket, "Two hundred and eighty." He sighed.

"Goddammit," She grumbled, moving a mound of gravel with her boot. "Go up to the lodge and tell dad. I'm making a trip to Powell."

"Okay. Those boys you brought over here are down at the barn helping us today. That boy of Alejandro's is dying to tag a calf."

She chuckled, "Well, let him learn. Run 'em through a chute and let him have at it."

Lawson nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"I'm taking Simon and Johnny with me today. If you see Price, just let him know."

"Sure. They have badges?"

"They don't need one. Just me."

"Then why are they going with you?" Frankie questioned, furrowing his brows.

"Insurance."

The drive to Powell was quiet, aside from the sound of Soap eating on his breakfast after he had begged Kiera to stop at the local McDonald's, claiming that their hash browns were "too good to pass up."

"What're we doing here?" Soap asked, oblivious to the point of the trip.

"Looking for someone."

His face held a confused look, "I-I thought we were looking for a plane?"

"Change of plans, Soap." Simon grumbled, looking to his right out the window, admiring the landscape along the road.

Simon watched as Kiera fumbled with her phone, looking at the caller ID before hitting 'accept.' "Yeah?"

"Okay, I have an address for Malcom Childress," Laswell said. "He has an office on Main Street in Powell."

"Figured he'd stay in the military." She scoffed.

"Well, there's something you should know about that."

"And what's that?"

"Graves used to be his superior. He was on Shadow Team with him for the last two tours performed."

"Fucking figures."

"He's a real estate broker in Powell. He got home after Thanksgiving. And Kiera," Laswell sighed. "He survived the raid of Alejandro's HQ."

"That's impossible. We swept the whole thing!"

"Unless he escaped. We don't know for sure, but I confirmed he was there. He was awarded with a Purple Heart recently."

"Shit," Kiera scoffed. "Guess they award the ones who don't need it, huh?"

"I guess so. Be considerate about this, Kiera." Laswell advised.

"Oh, I'm as considerate as the next person." She scoffed, ending her call with Laswell as her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Simon watched her gaze on the road, her pupils dilating as her anger changed her complexion as she took the exit to Powell.

Once at the location, Kiera parked the truck on the side of the road, informing both Simon and Soap to stay in the vehicle as she approached the gate, a guard stopping her immediately. She removed her badge from behind the confines of her vest before the gate opened. Simon watched with his stark gaze, watching as she disappeared from his line of sight. His palm rested on the pistol that was wedged between the console and the seat.

His leg shook impatiently as twenty minutes passed by, the diesel idling under his weight before the door opened. "Everything okay?" He asked her.

"Looked at everything I could. Need to go into town and pay a visit."

"Where to?" Soap asked.

"That motherfucker's office." She replied, looking at him through the rear view mirror of the truck before putting it in gear.

Oh, shit, Simon huffed to himself, knowing what was to come next.

"You two can come with if you want." She said, parking the truck and removing her vest, tossing it into the backseat before they all exited the truck, both Simon and Soap walking closely behind her as she entered the office.

"Hello," The receptionist smiled at her, her brows furrowing as she recognized the anger on Kiera's face. "How can I help you?"

"Is Malcom Childress here?"

"Um, did you have an appointment?" She asked, looking at her computer.

Kiera looked at her before looking to her right, seeing the man in question dressed in a suit and tie, entering his glass-enclosed office as if he had no problem in the world.

But he was about to.

She glared at him, knowing he was unaware of her presence, "That's not what I asked."

Soap and Simon glanced at each other, following Kiera as she stormed towards Malcom's office, grabbing a bottle of fine wine from the side table that was offered for the representatives working overtime as well as dinners at the office. A guard standing point next to his office, grasped his pistol, removing it from its holster, Kiera beating him to the carnage by using the bottle and disarming him first by slamming the bottle into his armed wrist before bringing it to meet his jaw, causing him to fall to the floor before she stormed into Malcom's office, throwing the bottle at him without any hesitation.

He gasped, ducking down to the floor to avoid the shards of glass, yelling "what the fuck!" before recognizing who was in his office.

She walked around his desk, pointing her finger, "Why in the fuck are you here?"

"I have every right to be here!" He shouted.

"Awful weird coincidence you're here all of a sudden? What happened to staying in Texas? Got tired of laying pipe to your ole lady? Or did she catch you cheating with your military card?"

He stepped closer to her, narrowing his eyes, unaware that Simon had stepped closer after seeing Malcom try to intimidate her. Not on my watch.

"You don't know what you're talking about." He growled.

"If I didn't know what I was talking about, I wouldn't have said it," She hissed. "How much is Shepherd paying you, huh? How much did he pay you to kill our cattle?"

"I plead the fifth."

She pursed her lips, grasping Malcom by the collar and forcing him against the wall. He tried to fight back with his strength, easily overpowering her until Simon stepped in, asserting dominance immediately by keeping Malcom pinned against the wall. "You touch her and that's the last thing you'll ever do." He warned.

"I didn't kill your cows!" He shouted at her. "But I wish I did. I'd kill every head of livestock you had."

"But you flew the plane, huh?" She grumbled, watching his bodyguard stumble into the office. "A little late." She snarked at him, watching Malcom nod his head at him to stand down.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Malcom grumbled at her.

"Bullshit. If you didn't do it, I wouldn't be here, but yet Shepherd has you running his goddamn plane all over the area of our ranch, huh?"

"I haven't flown since the military."

"I'm not going to say this again," She warned, grabbing a shard of broken bottle and holding it to his neck. "Your name is all over the fucking flight logs. All recent flights are within a hundred mile radius of our ranch and I know you're not flying for shits and giggles."

"Then why are you here? Why are you doing this, huh? If you know whose plane it is then why aren't you going after him?"

"Because you're first on my list. I'm going for him after I take out the trash."

"Then you should walk out that door before you play the wrong game."

"Is that a threat, mate?" Simon hissed.

"Maybe."

"You know, Malcom, you know as well as I do that's a dance with the devil if you fuck with me." Kiera warned.

"Then let's dance if that's what you want," He grumbled, the vein in his temple tapping at the thin skin of his forehead. "Fucking coming in here thinking you own the place and threatening me for flying a fucking plane."

"By the time I'm done, I'll have the trash taken out and own this place. I'll have your PPL hanging above my fucking toilet."

"It'd look nice, wouldn't it?" He smirked. "So what if I can fly a plane?"

"It's not that you can fly a plane, it's where you've been flying it. Especially considering that it doesn't belong to you."

She nodded for Simon to let him go, watching Malcom hunch over to catch his breath. "Don't make me come back." She warned.

"What happens if you do?" He scoffed.

"If I do, you won't walk out."

Simon and Soap followed behind her, watching the guard glance over her with a sarcastic comment playing at his lips. "Nice move." He said, referring to her technique of disarming him.

"It wasn't a move. I'm just meaner than you."

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laxyaklovesloz · 27 days

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The Legend of Zelda: Real Courage | Chapter Thirteen: The Lava Dragon

After much time and plenty of fighting, Lila and Mori finally came to a door with a lock of similar size and intricacy as the one in the ice dungeon. She assembled the smaller keys she had collected and placed them in the locks, this time making sure to keep her toes out of harm's way. A blast of hot air, warmer than any other room in the dungeon, blew her hair and clothes back. Lila put her cloak to the side.

Lila crept forward on light feet. She worried the opening of the door had alerted him to her presence. A river of lava flowed into the room from the far end.

Lila quietly asked Mori, “Where are the gauntlets?"

"In the lava."

Lila sighed. "Of course. Which means we basically need Volvagia's help. Blast you, Ganondra!"

"Shh!" Mori hissed, but it was too late. The surface of the lava bubbled and boiled. A large red spike appeared, followed by two smaller ones, all three of which were connected by a ridge above a pair of eyes as big as Lila's torso. A massive snout came next, lava trailing over the sides. Soon the whole head had come free of the lava and rested level with the frozen Lila's eyes.

"You wish for my help?"

The dragon's voice was so deep it vibrated through the whole cavern and into Lila's bones. Even though Volvagia showed no aggression, she knew he was not pleased.

"I have just returned from an arduous errand for the Lady Ganondra, and you are disturbing my rest. What is it that a tiny thing like you could have the nerve to enter my dungeon to speak with me about?"

Mori nudged Lila between the shoulder blades. She was surprised he was still there, but also a little grateful.

"Lady–" Lila's voice came out pressed, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Lady Ganondra sent me to retrieve a special pair of goblets–"

"Gauntlets," Mori interjected.

"Gauntlets," Lila corrected. "She said they were here."

The lava parted behind the dragon's head. This time a log of a tail appeared. The tip wound around to tap Lila on the chest. Then it stayed there, a pressure slowing Lila's breathing.

"She sent you?" Volvagia said slowly.

Lila licked her dry lips, searching for something to swallow, and nodded. "Yes... sir," she croaked.

The tail retreated, and Volvagia hummed. "She sent you..." he repeated.

"Um... yes, sir. She also sent me to get the Chainmail of Imperviousness from Gyorg."

Volvagia's eyes flickered. "Did she, now?"

"Yes, sir." The phrase seemed to help, or at least Lila hoped it did.

"Then you won't mind if I test my claws on you." The dragon showed them for effect.

Lila paled and stumbled back. "Wh-why?"

"If the chainmail is truly impervious, you won't feel a thing."

Lila's back met the wall. She hadn't realized she was moving because Volvagia was as close as ever. Now he was closer. He touched her chest again, this time with a razor-sharp claw.

"If I ate you, would the chainmail stick in my teeth?"

Lila managed to counter, "It might hurt your teeth. "

Volvagia chuckled. "If it is indeed impervious. I would like to test it out."

Lila ducked to the side. She had to scurry to avoid the fingers trying to grab her. As she rolled onto her feet, she pulled out her sword.

"I am hungry," said the dragon. "Let me eat you."

Lila continued to dodge the claws and tried to jab in return. "Lady Ganondra – sent – me. Don't – make her – angry."

Volvagia's tail wrapped around Lila's chest. She gave a startled scream and thrust her sword down. It bounced off his scales, and the jarring made her drop it. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"My own scales are a bit impervious." Volvagia brought Lila so that she was dangling right in front of his snout. "It sure does hurt my teeth when I bite myself." He dropped her to the ground. Though her legs shook, she quickly rolled away.

"Fine, you can have it." Volvagia kept one eye on her as he used his tail to retrieve something from under the lava. "I tire of this game." He released a treasure chest that looked like it was made from his scales. When it hit the ground, it clanked like…

"Are the gauntlets in there?" Lila asked.

Volvagia was already retreating into his lava bed. "Yes, yes. Just go. I wish to sleep."

Lila opened the chest to find a sack. She snatched up the bag and left before he had a chance to change his mind."One last thing," he said. "Tell Ganondra to leave me alone for a few decades."

#fanfic #fanfiction #legend of zelda #genderbend #Real Courage

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themxtleycrew · 1 month

Note

'flashback' Temari killing Tayuya

[[Send 'flashback' for a moment from my muse's past, topic optional]]

She had him dead to rights, her was burning through all his Chakra trying to force Tayuya in place. Keeping her stuck with that stupid shadow technique, but she could see him tiring out, his hold on her beginning to falter, even as she pushed back against his shadow binding technique, her knife inching closer and closer to him. Just a little bit more--

In an instant, she's thrown back by a sudden gust of wind, only just managing to catch a thick branch on one of the nearby trees. The source of the gust placing herself between Tayuya and the Konoha brat. She recognized her, she was from Suna, she'd been a part of the joint operation to bring down Konoha. She was once an enemy of the Hidden Leaf but now she was coming to bat for them?

"So now you're with Konoha?! You guys sure keep busy, switching sides all the time."

Another razor sharp gust, it cuts through trees like a hot knife through butter, she was going to be a pain, this girl was her natural opposite, her gusts would disrupt any sounds she made with her flute. She needed distance, yes, get far away, out of her reach, no way those winds can shred her if she's out of effective range, but she needed to stay close enough for them to hear the sound of her music, for the genjutsu to trap them in her world.

She brings the mouthpiece to her lips, taking in air to begin playing her siren song--

It all happened so fast, she felt herself being thrown from the branch, felt like her body was rolling, trapped in a hurricane, logs bash her body, splinters and shards of wood shred her skin, and then... nothing. She can't move, she can't breath, she can't... oh God she can't feel her legs!

The bitch, she didn't even try to seek her out, she just leveled the entire damn forest, reckless, but it got the job done. She tries to scream, but no sound comes out, she can't hear her own voice, has she gone deaf? Or... is it because she can't get any air into her lungs. She struggles to breathe, the weight of the logs pushing down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe in. She writhes, trying to get out from under the fallen trees, she can't, she can't feel herself from her chest down.

This is it isn't it, this is how she dies. One of Orochimaru's best, taken out by a cheap shot and bleeding out under some damn firewood! She continues to struggle, to try and pull herself out of the mess as the darkness begins to swallow her.

'Hold on... this one's still alive!'

'Are you sure?'

'Get these logs off her!'

'Hold on--hngh!'

*krrk--krrk--thok!*

'oh fuck, her legs--I think I'm gonna--'

'Pull yourself together! We need a medic!'

'You want to heal our enemy?'

'If she's got information, we need her alive, now call the damn medic!'

#[[the northern gate]]#long post

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mirophobic · 4 months

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i just wanted the flag

percy jackson x aphrodite! reader ;; fluff, y/n, h/c, and e/c used, charm-speak, fem reader, show percy

ep 2 / chapter 8

part one

dedicated to my bsffff ;; @urfavnamilover (she also proof read it)

APHRODITE KIDS WERE known for being useless during capture the flag, in Percy's words "they just look at themselves in the creek and gossip". He wasn't wrong, most of them did, but its only because they love their mother and want to appreciate what she has given them.

but, then again not all of them are like that, some of them use the powers that Aphrodite has. y/n for example, they actually try to get the flag, it should be fairly simple for her, but the thing is... her charm-speak wears off after 10 minutes. its not strong at all.

y/n walked through the lush forest wearing her armor and sword, red of course, as she moved her feet forward, she looked at the new kid laying in the log as Clarisse snuck up on him, y/n shook her head shooing her away mouthing "I have an idea" .

Clarisse didn't trust her, because she was an Aphrodite kid whose only mastered skill is to sit there and look pretty, but she rolled her eyes and decided she had better things to do, so she walked away, leaving her to do her thing.

"Hey, you're the new kid, right?" he shot up and reached for his sword. "woah hey, I'm no harm, not really a thing I can do" he kept his guard up "how do i know that" he said, she shrugs "trust me.",,

Suddenly, he felt the need to believe her and drop his sword, so he did without a second thought. "That's more like it" she smirked at him. He sat down on the log again and she sat next to him.

"sooo... how's your first week?" she asked awkwardly "how was your first week?" he asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "okay then... anything i can do to make it better?" she looked at him, and he looked at her thinking. "you could get Annabeth to lay off", y/n laughs " Annabeth means well, she's trying to leave camp, and get a quest, honestly i wish i could too but i have no purpose out there". Percy looks at her weird "why not?" she smiles "I'm a year-round" he nods at her "y'know what'd make me feel better? if you'd go get the flag for us" she crosses her legs pouting at him. then he gets the feeling again, the need to do it, to go get her his flag.

as stupid as he felt he did it, he got up and walked towards where the flag was. "Now i just hope he can get back in under 10 minutes..." y/n mumbles.

When he gets to the flag, the guard looks at him funky, "what are you doing" and he snaps out of it. "i... don't know" he looks around "did you talk to y/n?" they ask, "who?" he raises an eyebrow, the kid rolls his eyes ``the really pretty girl who has h/c hair and e/c eyes, shes in cabin 10, the Aphrodite cabin, her necklace says it." he scoffs in a 'duh' tone.

even though Percy couldn't recall seeing her necklace, he could remember that she was very pretty, and did have h/c and e/c so he just nodded his head, and the guard sighed, "well stay away from her, her charm-speak isn't very strong and only last like 5 minutes"

"ITS 10 MINUTES!!!" They heard a booming voice from inside the forest. They all looked over to the sound to see the girl holding her hand over her mouth, as she started to run in a different direction.

"should i chase her?" Percy asked, the guard shrugs, "if you wanna, we don't really need you here" Percy nods and runs in the same direction.

She ran towards the lake and disappeared, as Percy was looking around, he saw Clarisse walking towards him, he looked the other way, but no luck he was trapped.

time skip, after the fight (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง

The blue team comes running towards the lake yelling and cheering, they got the flag. Percy gets on his feet, and looks over to them. Annabeth takes off the cap her mother gave her and stands next to him, "were you there the whole time?" Percy asks annoyed, Annabeth shrugs "..yes" Percy blinks at her, you were there the whole time and didn't help me?" he looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed, "yes" she says "why?", doesn't answer but she helps him up.

she stares at him for a sec, he couldn't read her expression but he knew that she was thinking of something. "Listen Percy..." she looks down then looks in his eyes again "i'm sorry" she whispers before pushing him back into the lake behind him. Percy knots his eyebrows together "what is wrong with you?" he yells standing up.

but he feels better, he feels more energized, like he could run around the whole world and not break a sweat. "Percy..." the scratch on his cheek suddenly stops hurting, as he pulls his hand up he feels that his cheek is smooth again, no scratch.

He looks at Annabeth with confusion, as he notices a light emitting from above him and the whole camp is dead silent. He looks up and sees a trident, Poseidon's symbol.

#x reader #percy jackson #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #aphrodite #child of aphrodite

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strongsong117 · 1 year

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It's Dragon Age day!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

To celebrate I wrote a lil' something for funsies. Just banter and elfroot and the Hinterlands.

Prompt: "The Hinterlands"

One would have thought that the drab landscape of the Hinterlands could deter an Inquisitor's willingness to traipse about the plains in search for quarries, logging sites, and—Maker's breath—elfroot.

The sky was an imposing grey and the winds blew on Dorian's robes as they hiked, resulting to an eye roll and shivers. He rubbed his hands against his arms to lessen the cold, watching his three other companions walk casually amidst the Fereldan weather.

"Cold?" The Inquisitor asked with his infuriatingly charming voice. Dorian swore he could hear the smirk from that one uttered word, turning his head to Michael's direction to confirm. And he was right. Damn bloke was trying to hold back his laughter.

"I don't know how all of you can stand this cold. None of us are even from Ferelden!" Dorian frowned and huffed, not hiding his apparent displeasure. "I don't like staying in Tevinter, but I swear on Andraste's sacred knickers that the weather there is much more hospitable."

"I'm sure," Michael replied, chuckling. "But I think the Fereldan bears would appreciate it if you didn't deny their warm welcome."

"I wouldn't if we could traverse this forsaken place without encountering a bear every minute!"

Varric and Cassandra walked a few steps ahead, stopping and then walking back to Michael and Dorian. "Inquisitor," Cassandra called, "I think it's best if we turn this direction instead."

"Why's that?" Michael asked, noticing that Varric turned his head to the opposite direction of where Cassandra suggested.

"I remember a scout reporting that that area is a bear den."

"Maker preserve me," Dorian huffed as he slapped a hand to his face. His previous statement was just affirmed.

"Unfortunate. Another scout said she spotted a potential quarry site in that direction."

"Please don't tell me you're still planning to go there," Varric warned. "I know you're thinking we can run away if needed, but I don't know if you've noticed, Sneaky, my legs are far shorter than all of yours."

"Cassandra can carry you," the Inquisitor replied jestingly, receiving a very audible and very disapproving grunt from the Seeker.

"I'll pass. She might use it as an opportunity to throw me off a cliff or something."

"I would not!" Cassandra protested, frowning at Varric's teasing.

"Amatus," Dorian placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, "It's best if we return to camp. It's not like we've not achieved anything on this trip anyway."

"Yes, I think you've enough elfroot to build a farm," Varric laughed. "Where do you even put the ones you pick up? Got a secret pocket there or something?"

"It's magic, Varric."

"—a different kind from what we know, it would seem," Dorian added with a nudge to his ribs.

"If you're planning to go back, it's best we do so now," Cassandra called and pointed to the now even darker sky.

"Oh, please, not the rain!" Dorian's legs had already started to move on their own accord. The cold is so much more tolerable than the rain.

"Don't fret, love, we can warm up later," Michael said with a smirk.

"Ugh."

"Careful, the Seeker is getting nauseous from your sweetness, Sneaky." Varric's quipping was cut short by a loud roar of thunder.

"Right. Shall we?"

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Day #just a self-indulgent banter drabble xD #posted this on twt too :3

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randomwriting-misc · 2 years

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Endangered | Chapter Five

Paul Lahote x OFC

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Summary: Vampires and wolves are not the only supernatural creatures to walk the earth, and they are certainly not the only ones in Forks, Washington when Charlotte Annabeth Swan, "Anna", moves in with her uncle after the unfortunate demise of her parents.

Some may misidentify her as a witch, but that’s fine, she would rather them think that anyway. But the Volturi know the truth, and they are closing in on her.

The bonfire is already going strong when we make our way over. Logs and tree stumps and rocks have all been moved around the pit in a circle, as well as chairs brought by some. There is a table set up with food everyone brought. I really appreciated Paul bringing me to these community events. It made me feel less like the outsider Sam once told me I was, and closer to the whole pack. Some of the Elders give us knowing nods. Word of Paul's imprinting traveled fast in the small group who knew the truth, which includes Billy Black, who was staring at me from where he sat around the bonfire. When he catches my eye, he waves me over.

“Hi Billy,” I say with a smile sitting on the tree next to him.

“Anna,” he says and then gives Paul a nod, “Paul, could you go grab us something to drink?”

Paul hesitates but agrees after I nod at him. As he’s walking away, I look up at Billy.

“So, am I right to assume you’re the reason Charlie is asking about Paul?” I question with a smile. Billy throws his hands up in surrender.

“Me? I would never?” He smiles.

I laugh and roll my eyes.

“Is Jacob here?” I ask looking around.

Billy frowns, “Yes, but only because I made him, I believe he is helping Sue Clearwater with carrying some food.” He pauses, “Is everything okay with him?” I sigh deeply.

“He doesn’t like Paul, or Sam really. He thinks they are in a gang. I told him today that I was hanging out with him.”

It’s Billy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“He’ll get over it one day, I’m sorry he’s making things difficult for you.”

I shrug, “There’s not much I can do. I love Jake, I really do, but it’s physically painful to be away from Paul. Both of us would be weaker if we stayed away.”

He nods knowingly, “I understand Anna, I do not and would not blame you for anything between you and Jake. It’ll take time, but things will resolve themselves.”

I smile at Billy, and we make small talk until Paul comes back carrying two drinks in hand. He hands them each to us as Jacob appears in view.

Jacob scowls at me and turns to walk away from us again and my heart breaks a little. Paul sits next to me and wraps an arm around my waist.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers in my ear, “I can talk to him? His misconceptions about me doesn't mean he can be rude to you.”

I shake my head, “No, I think that would make it worse, but I appreciate it, love.”

The pet name falls off my tongue with ease, and it’s not until after that that I realize what I’ve said. I straighten and look away from him so he can’t see me freak out, but of course, he knows. Paul laughs and kisses my temple again.

“Very cute,” he whispers. I slink off the log onto the sand to avoid him looking at how flushed I am, but Paul just moves so I am in between his legs and moves down to the ground, picking me up slightly to move me forward. My back is leaning against his chest and his arms are around my waist.

“You know it’s really not fair that you can just pick me up and move me wherever.”

“It’s very fair,” He smirks, “how else would I get to hold on to you like this.” I roll my eyes at him and settle into his arms. This is the first Reservation wide event Paul and I have been to together, usually just attending council meetings between the Elders and the Pack. I can see that all eyes are on us. Paul had told me about his reputation and his temper. Jared made sure to let me know that Paul became a lovesick puppy around me, pun intended, and it was weird to see him be so calm and caring.

It seems a lot of people shared that opinion. While many of the younger girls glared openly, most stared on with a surprising curiosity. The Council Members smiled at us tenderly.

Paul is playing with my hair, pulling the curls gently and watching them spring back when Emily sits down next to me. I gasp in excitement and hug her, yelling her name. She laughs and hugs me back. Paul whines as Emily pulls me away from him

“I missed you,” I say pouting.

“I missed you too,” she says leaning in, “You know, we could just ditch the boys and run off together.” She says quietly with a wink. I throw my head back in a laugh. Emily Young was not so secretly, my favorite member of our little pack, and we often joked about us being the ones truly in love.

Paul wraps his arms around my waist, “You both would miss us too much.”

I scoff and push him away lightly, “As if.”

Emily laughs and we begin to catch up.

The night is lovely. Sam and Jared join us shortly after Emily, and I feel like things are finally okay. Times like this make me feel like I could be happy, that I can be a part of a family, even if I will always miss my parents. Time flies with them because, after two hours and some food, I barely register the stares, except for one.

Sadness twinges at my heart as I catch sight of Jacob again, he’s been staring at us for a while now, and Paul nudges my shoulder with his chin.

“Do you want to try to talk to him?” He whispers. I give him a doubtful look.

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to get mad.” He raises his eyebrows.

“I can handle myself, Anna, He’s your friend,” he says, “I’ll be here.”

I push myself off the ground, Paul helping me. I give him a small smile and tell the others I’ll be right back. Sam, who had warmed up to me after a week or two, gives a questioning look to Paul. As I walk away, I hear Paul give a short explanation, and Sam's eyes flash towards Jacob.

Jacob is sitting by himself away from the fire. He doesn’t walk away when he sees me.

I pull my sweater tight around me.

“Hey,” I say gently. He doesn’t answer.

“Can I sit?”

No reply again, but he does move over a bit. Sitting down, I exhale in defeat, unsure of what to say.

“So,” he begins, venom in his voice, “What are you, like their groupie now?” I flinch at his words, and across the way, I see the boy’s tense. Damn their hearing.

“Jake don't talk to me like that. Let me explain.” I say, voice still quiet. I continue before he makes another snarky comment.

“Paul and I… we’re together, kind of. He’s not the person you claim to hate so much.”

“How would you know Anna? You’ve been here for a few months, and suddenly you know everyone better than I do? I’ve known him since childhood. He’s aggressive.”

“Honestly, I’ve never really seen this famous temper everyone keeps mentioning.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t, he’ll just blow up on you one day, and you’ll get hurt.”

“I really doubt that Jake.”

“Don’t be stupid Anna,” Jake says getting up and walking away. Paul watches him, ready to get up.

Don’t, I voice to his mind, I got it, please.

He’s unhappy about it but settles back down, whispering to Sam.

I follow Jake to the parking lot.

“Jacob!” I shout.

“Forget it, Anna, go run back to your little cult!” he yells.

“Why are you doing this? It’s not like this has to be an ultimatum. What, because I like hanging out with someone other than you, I can’t be your friend?”

“I don’t really want to be friends with someone like you right now.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I told you how they acted, and you didn’t care.”

“I really don’t understand this reaction, Jake, you’re acting like I’ve committed some kind of Shakespearean betrayal,” I’m struggling to catch up with him at this point.

“Jake, don’t act like this is some choice I have to make.” I plead.

Jake turns around, and I almost walk right into him.

“It’s not a choice, you’ve already chosen. I just never expected you fall at their feet like a whore.”

His words slice through me, and I step back. In that instant, Paul appears behind me. I can sense his anger, and how hard he is trying to hold back. His hands are on my shoulders, and I press my back against him, trying to ground him and calm him down.

“Walk away Black,” he sees through barred teeth.

“Yeah, of course, come to save the day again Lahote? Pretend you’re some kind of hero?” Jacob is yelling louder now, gaining the attention of onlookers.

Sam steps in front of Paul and me, hands up.

“Jacob, take a step back.”

Jacob is shaking with anger, a sign that his change is closer than we think.

“Paul, take Anna home, please,” Sam says. I shoot him an apology via a mind link, but he dismisses it telling me it’s not my fault.

I grab Paul’s hand and coax him away, heading back to his truck, Emily is there with my truck.

“Sorry to kill the mood,” I mumble but Emily shushes me.

“Don’t worry about it, hun. I’m sorry about your friend. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She kisses me on the cheek and walks back to the bonfire.

Paul is still silent beside me, taking deep breaths. I wrap my arms around him, but he doesn’t hug me back. Frowning, I look up at him.

“Are you all right?” I say in a hushed tone. He finally looks down and sighs, arms finally moving around me.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine, more angry than sad, but I’m sure I will be later. He sucks.” Paul nods and lets me go to open the passenger door.

“He crossed a line,” Paul adds tensely. I nod my head and climb into the seat. He shuts the door gently and walks around.

Paul’s emotions are more decipherable now. Anger, frustration, worry, and guilt. He starts to drive; the silence is deafening.

“I hope you know he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. About you,” I assert. Paul’s grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“He isn’t wrong about me.”

“Yes, he is.” I stand firm.

“Anna, I am constantly afraid of hurting you, the fact that other people also think that? I can’t even…” he trails off.

“Any type of strong emotion can set off the change Paul, just because you happened to be angry at the time and can feel intensely, doesn’t make you a monster. I literally have a connection to your emotions. If I had any worry about you, don’t you think I would voice that? I have never been concerned about you hurting me or getting angry with me.”

Paul doesn’t answer, but I don’t press on, letting him digest my words.

It’s almost 9:30 when we pull into the driveway and Paul is hopping out to open my door. Before getting out, I turn to face him and pull him close, placing my hands on either side of his face.

“Promise me you won’t beat yourself up over what Jacob said.”

His face softens as he looks into my eyes, making me melt all over again. He nods and rests his forehead against mine.

“Jacob will get over himself. Hopefully, before he changes, but even then, he’ll understand,” His voice is quiet, “I’m sorry he said those things to you.”

I shrug noncommittedly.

“He’s right though, it’s not a choice. It’s you.”

A surge of bliss hits me from him, and I smile.

“Of course it’s you, Paul.”

His hand finds its way to the base of my neck, the other slightly caressing my cheek.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he says breathily.

“Not a chance,” I whisper back.

Yearning flashes in his eyes as he leans in to kiss me, gently at first, just barely brushing his lips against mine. His lips are soft and warm, contrasting with how cold mine are from the weather, and I feel like electricity is coursing through my body. I sigh into him and pull him closer, his chest pressing against me. Warmth pooled in my stomach as he deepens the kiss, tilting my head back slightly. My hands slide up into his hair, desperate for more, but he breaks away. I whimper from the loss of him.

He kisses my cheeks, and nose before pulling away completely.

“Charlie’s about to walk outside,” he murmurs, “I still want to be on his good side for now.”

Right on cue, Charlie exits the front door, feigning casualty as he walks to his car. I wave at him.

“Be inside in a second!” I shout, “Stop being nosy! Love you!”

With a hrmph, he walks back inside and Paul chuckles beside me.

I give him an amused look, before finally climbing down from my seat.

“Thank you.”

Paul winks at me and walks me up to the door.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight. I liked having you by my side.”

“I did too, despite Jacob’s tantrum. We should do stuff like that more.” I hint.

“Hm, what a thought.” He says, portraying innocence. I playfully drop his hand in response, but he catches my waist and kisses me lightly one more time.

“Goodnight, Anna.” He hums.

My head is spinning and my cheeks are flushed.

“Goodnight Paul,” I squeak back.

Read Chapter Six Here

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