#my difference from her is precisely what brings me closer to understanding her

[fearsomeandwretched]

Filed under Rayne Fisher-Quann tweets that make me cry

[moonselune]

Wyll and a druid + ranger multiclass tav for a drabble?? Tav is really good at swordfighting so maybe she's asking him for styles or they're sparring

Ooo Ooo Wyll is actually the type of man I need in my life but have absolutely no hopes of finding xoxoxox

ANYWAY

Hope you like this :)

----

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the camp as you tightened the straps on your gauntlets. You were a formidable fighter, drawing on your blend of druidic wisdom and ranger agility, but tonight you sought a different kind of challenge, growing tired of Karlach's brashness and Lae'zel's criticality. You watched Wyll, the formidable "Blade of Frontiers," sharpening his sword with practiced ease and a thought bloomed in your mind.

"Mind if I join you?" Your voice broke the quiet, a hint of mischief in your tone as you slowly walked towards him. You had always admired him, his bravery, his gentility, his politeness, but now you were looking for something a bit more intimate in him.

Wyll looked up, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Thinking of adding some flair to your fighting style, Y/N?"

You grinned, your fingers dancing over the hilt of her sword. "Something like that. I could use a few pointers from the legendary Blade of Frontiers."

Wyll stood, stretching his muscles with a fluid grace that had you subconsciously staring. "Alright then, let's see what you've got."

You took your stances, eyes locked in mutual challenge. The first clash of their blades echoed through the camp, a symphony of skill and strength. You moved with the fluidity of the forest, your strikes precise and swift. Wyll countered with a blend of elegance and power, each motion a testament to his training.

"Not bad," Wyll teased, parrying a particularly fierce strike. "But you're holding back."

You smirked, your eyes narrowing. "You'd know if I wasn't. You seem to enjoy watching me train"

You lunged, pushing him back with a flurry of strikes that had him on the defensive. It hadn't helped him that he had become flustered at your comment.

Wyll's smile grew as he recovered, a flicker of admiration in his gaze. "That's more like it." He pivoted, his blade dancing through the air as he countered your attack, their proximity closing with each movement.

As the duel intensified, the air between you seemed to crackle with a different kind of energy. Each clash of your swords brought you closer, breaths mingling, eyes locked in an unspoken understanding. Your heart raced, not just from the exertion but from the flush that began to overtake you, the animal within you going primal.

Wyll's next move brought him dangerously close to you, your faces inches apart. "You fight well, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

"Likewise," You replied, her voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the heat of his breath, the intensity in his gaze.

Your swords crossed again, but this time, instead of pulling away, you let the momentum bring you even closer. Wyll's hand found your waist, steadying you as he paused, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

"Careful, Wyll," You said softly, her lips curving into a playful smile. "You might make me think you like this."

Wyll chuckled, his grip tightening slightly. "And if I do?"

Their swords lowered, forgotten for the moment as you leaned in, you eyes flickering to his lips. "Then you'd better be ready to prove it."

With a boldness that matched your fighting spirit, you closed the distance, your lips brushing against Wyll's in a desperate kiss. For a moment, the duel was forgotten, replaced by pure desire.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Wyll's grin was wider than ever. "Consider me challenged," he said, his voice husky.

You laughed softly, stepping back but not breaking their gaze. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet, Blade of Frontiers."

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

Ask game for Skye?

Aw yes our beloved tiny Cockapoo XD

My first impression - Why is there only one female pup and why is she so much smaller than the boys-- Is she a Cocker Spaniel?? Could've been a bit bigger...

My impression now - "Thank you Mighty Movie for giving her some lore and anything at all other than what little the show gives us"

Favorite thing about that character - She's one of the only three characters who are girls in PINK that I think the color actually fits them really well, instead of just color coding girls with pink just because. She DOES look good in it, it fits with her actions and general behavior, just as well as all pink/violet shades she wears with other colors for highlights. It may sound of not much importance, but pink is a strong color, not a "feminine" color. It shouldn't ever be "lowly/lazily coded" for girls just because girls, it can and should be used by anyone, as long as they get it. Don't see pink as "feminine/gay" color, see it as "lighter red, passion, fire, love, care, nurturing, protecting". Someone who takes others under their wings and care for them, protect them, fight for them. Skye is persistent, she cares, she's passionate, she's always giving it her all and some more. She deserves the pink color.

Least favorite thing - Being the only girl in the main team when there's a demand for female rep makes it so she's exhaustively OVERUSED to the extent of shading out other pups who would be more suited for certain kinds of rescues, kicking them out of the scene only for being males and their need for showing more girl power. I've been missing Everest showing up more times, heck she lives just close to them, it's closer than Liberty, at least they wouldn't need to overuse Skye so ridiculously much...

Favorite line/scene - This scene lives rent free in my mind

Favorite interaction that character has with another - That moment in the first movie when she went to pick Chase from the rooftop and bring him back down to ground level. I think she could understand he was panicking and made sure he would hear her voice, state her intention and next moves "I'm coming to get you" so he wouldn't be caught by surprise, she asked what happened, made sure he would know people were safe now and he could let go and go with her, she was a total darling there. 10/10 emotional support pup.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more - Chase and Liberty. First I miss Skye and Chase being absolute dorks together, second I loved Skye's dynamic with Liberty in the Mighty Movie, with the two often talking and throwing shade at others or being generally sarcastic to make each other laugh

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character - Uran, from Tetsuwan Atom, specifically the 2003 anime version - you might know her as Zoran, Astro Boy. But the American dub for that anime literally changed EVERYTHING to the point if you watch the anime dubbed and subbed, you feel it's two entirely different stories. "Zoran" was nothing like "Uran", they managed to change and reshape her personality in such a way they're literally two completely different characters, so I'll be precise and say I'm talking specifically about the Japanese Uran character, not the dubbed Zoran character.

A headcanon about that character - The show gave me nothing to develop ideas about her, sadly. So I don't have any interesting headcanons to go about- just that I believe she loves strawberry bubblegum scented shampoo lol

A song that reminds of that character - "Defying Gravity"

An unpopular opinion about that character - I prefer her movie verse over the show verse. I can't feel a "personality" in the show... She's cool, but if it wasn't for the movie, I feel like we wouldn't ever have anything to work about her at all?? She's just-- always happy, likes to play Pup Pup Boogie, flies her 'copter, is afraid of eagles. Isn't it weird that I just listed four things about her and still feel like I don't have much to work with her at all??? The only friend I know who has her as his favorite pup told me it's because she's the flight rescue pup - he's hyperfixated on aircrafts. It's not for who she is, only for her being the one to fly 'copters/jets. It could be ANY pup instead of her. That's just freaking SAD. The Mighty Movie wasn't perfect but at least it gave her SOMETHING ELSE if you get what I mean now.

Favorite picture - I didn't get there in the show yet but this is my favorite outfit of hers already, hands down. She looks hella cool.

[possibilistfanfiction]

if ur feeling angsty or hurt/comfort: maybe the first time ava loses a patient?

[maybe not the first time but the first Very Hard time // ao3]

//

‘dr. silva.’

ava doesn’t turn around, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the rain — loud and unrelenting and already having soaked through your surgical gown, your scrubs, your clogs — or if it’s just because nothing in the world makes sense right now to her. maybe, you think, it’s a little bit of both. 

you walk a few precise, steady, careful paces toward him; if there’s anything you know how to be, it’s that: precise, steady, careful. dr. ava silva sprang into your life an anomaly, a holy bomb soft in its light and empty in any destruction, resetting your dull, exacting world to bursts of color, everywhere.

‘ava,’ you say, softly. you wait a few quiet heartbeats before he turns around to face you. even though it’s raining you can see tear tracks down their cheeks, and when they sniffle you reach out a hand for them to take. there’s a beat but then she does, her fingers cold and lithe. ‘there wasn’t anything we could’ve done,’ you say. 

she blanches at the statement; it’s true, but you know it’s an impossible pill to swallow. ‘she — her daughter is going to wake up, and —‘ ava shakes her head, her hair plastered to her forehead, messy from when she’d taken her cap off.

‘she’s going to wake up, yes.’

‘it’s going to be the worst day of her life. her mom… her mom —‘ 

you feel ava tremble with a force you only understand because of all you, too, have lost. she hasn’t told you everything, but you know enough of her to understand when she can’t sleep even after marathon shifts, when her back flares and she flinches as minutely as possible throughout a surgery. you know enough of her to understand how she seeks out joy, how she savors the last bite of terrible cafeteria spring rolls, how she makes her patients laugh, even when they’re terrified, how she tries, every shift, no matter what, to watch the sunrise from the roof. you understand rage and you understand unspeakable grief. something you’re maybe learning, though, is love. 

‘you can’t save everyone.’

ava’s jaw clenches and he turns away from you, so you squeeze his hand and wait. eventually, he sighs in exhausted defeat, horrible resignation, and looks at you. 

‘we save everyone we can.’ it’s something dr. superion taught you; shannon taught you. ’it’s terrible, and i wish things were different. but we save everyone we can.’

she swallows, takes a step closer; her fingers, despite the rain and the chill, have warmed in yours — have stilled, have steadied. ‘i almost died, when i was seven,’ she says. ‘i did die, medically speaking, for three minutes.’ 

you feel her pulse along her wrist, thrumming away.

‘i almost missed you.’ he brings his hand, careful, to rest on your cheek, thumbs it gently. ‘what a gift, to be here and know you now.’

it’s easy, to let her press her lips against yours. she’s beautiful, and she tastes like rain and salt. your brain catches up and wills your body to kiss her back, to feel it all, this miraculous stretch of life.

you kiss until the tips of your fingers ache with the cold and you're both shivering and then lead her inside by the hand. you're technically not supposed to, but you go to the attendings' showers because they're bigger and cleaner and offer more privacy. you don't take your clothes off, just stand with ava under after the water is hot and you hold her to you then.

'breathe,' you say, softly, into his wet hair, and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and does.

eventually you strip out of your scrubs and dry off, intimate and unsexy and perfect.

'i — i know this was a loss for you too,' ava says once you're both sitting in the lounge, putting your warm clothes back on, getting ready to leave.

'my mother is attempting to pass truly abhorrent policy in london and calling me to tell me i'm a disappointment,' you say. 'it's okay if this feels different for you.'

ava takes it all in and then frowns. 'god, fuck your mom, you know that? you're the most impressive person i know.'

'did that make you feel better?'

'imagining punching her in the face? yeah, totally.'

you laugh. ava's shoulders relax and his countenance lightens, just barely, but enough for you to be sure he'll be okay. 'shall we go home?'

'can we pick up some ramen on the way? i swear i'm still freezing.'

'of course,' you say, and take her hand.

[pharrell-the-formation]

The long-awaited (by me) “Underground Blossom” was released today. I played, enjoyed it and want to write down some of my thoughts regarding everything shown there.

🔴 If it’s not already obvious, achtung: there are spoilers everywhere, so continue to read at our own risk! 🔴

🦜It seems that Harvey actually remained enlightened for much longer than people in fandom previously assumed. UB doesn’t shy away from metaphors, but the fact that Harvey actually replaced Laura’s parent and somehow successfully handled responsibilities of caring for a human child, as well as the fact that other, non-important children also saw the parrot precisely as an anthropomorphic bird in a suit, quite directly illustrates that this guy all this time, throughout the girl’s growing up, really was like that, and not just a normal pet parrot. I believe in this version of a story: Harvey the Hotel worker, Harvey the confidant of Mr. Owl, Harvey the Eilander family killer did not die and was not reborn, descending along the wheel of Samsara to the level of an animal. Enlightened ones simply know how to temporarily change their form to an animal-like one, and this is precisely what he did, perhaps in order to hide from the same embittered escaped corrupt souls or for some other reason. Mr Crow did something similar in “Cube Escape: Paradox,” if my memory serves me right, turning into the more familiar for us form of a crow. This would explain why Vanderboom depicted our anthropomorphic protagonist in one of her drawings as a pet parrot in a cage. And also the fact that he retains his completely human mind in animal form (demonstrated when solving puzzles in “Harvey’s box”) can be explained this way.

💧I still adhere to the idea, that Rose in this game was not really eager to resurrect Albert. This idea is rather based on my personal preferences, because Rose, who renounced her father, appeals to me as a character much more, so here I ask you not to treat this exact point as a full-fledged theory regarding canon events. Let's discard my old partially-hypothesis-partially-AU about “The past within” and “Underground blossom” being different timelines (like something similar that has already been shown before - in the Bob’s fate, where in some games he dies or commits suicide, and in “The White Door” forgets Laura and begins to live a normal life). It is clearly not the case; now it is more than clear that one game is directly connected to the other. However, here's what could happen: Miss Vanderboom receives a letter from recently deceased Albert, along with a mission to bring him back to life. Initially, she is interested in this and actively works on the task, but at some point something clicks in her and the understanding comes that it is better to leave a possibly dangerous person where he cannot harm anyone. Perhaps getting closer to her cousins ​​had an impact. So, Rose no longer wants to carry out this ritual, and this automatically calls everything into question, because even though she in the Past may have completed her part of the work, now, without her desire in the Present, she from the Future may not complete hers. A paradox. Albert's soul, of course, did not appreciate the joke and wants to make sure that his daughter does what she should, whether she wants it or not. When Harvey begins to visit to her, she already understands perfectly well that her father will not give up so easily. She understands that he will most likely try to harm her or her daughter. She understands that she may have to make very serious sacrifices so that Laura, the most precious thing she has left, does not suffer at the hands of her grandfather - and disappears from her life. Afterall, She will be better off with Harvey.

🌳 I'm still sticking to my Naraka theory. Rose somehow managed to preserve her humanity even in this form, and she thanks her old friend for all the help, and by giving her beloved daughter a piece of her soul - the petals - she helps her start living from scratch, now not suffering from psychological problems so much. I don’t know how literally the final level should be taken and how much the girl’s return to life depended on the mother (after all, in “Seasons” everything was presented kind of differently), but I think you can perceive it as you like.

To sum it up, I just want to say that “Undergroung Blossom” left me feeling incredibly warm and.. cozy? An impression that I honestly never expected from a game in this series, full of darkness, suffering and all sorts of devilry. Despite the fact that there are such things too, the theme of family and sincere care for someone dear to you runs like a red thread throughout the entire story. And all this is consolidated with such a bright ending, after which even Rose’s terrible posthumous fate is ultimately not viewed as critically as before, which... I can’t. It’s wholesome. As wholesome as Rusty lake game can be.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Prompt: telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

Thank you !!! 💛

Please don’t give up doing prompt snippets 🙏 yours are always so good 😊

Let's do it! Life got in the way, but this prompt is complete. I ignored the "silently" part, though, whoops.

___

Maura walked down the hall of the fourth floor of BPD, where the staff gym was housed. Sometimes, different departments ran training from the main area, using the padded flooring for de-escalation and self-defense. The rest of the time, employees were free to use the weights and the machines as they pleased. 

Maura arrived at the heavy double doors all the way at the end of the hall, and breathed a sobering breath. There was no slip of paper on it to denote any trainings, and she’d suspected as much. 

This increased the chances that Jane was on the other side of the doors exponentially. 

Maura couldn’t, however, bring herself to open them just yet. Because opening them would mean confronting Jane, precisely what she came to do, but confrontation required guts Maura was unsure she had. 

Tap. Tap. Thump. Tap. Tap. Thump.

Sounds Maura expected to hear. Sounds that signaled that Jane really did exist on the other side, and that Maura had no time to wring her hands over this face to face she’d planned.

Things were dire.

Maura pulled the right door open, and inhaled until her posture turned regal, icy. She needed the Queen of the Dead. Her heels clacked when she marched toward the punching bags. One bag sang against the stale air, air that smelled vaguely like sweat and something sweet, some kind of cleaning supply.

Jane punched it. Repeatedly.

Maura took a moment to study the hits themselves - it wasn’t that it was wild, but she saw rage in Jane’s method. Each third hit in the sequence was her deadliest, the punch she never used when teaching Maura self-defense, or sparring with her. 

Jane meant to be alone, with the demons she battled when she thought no one watched her. Maura thought about clearing her throat, but Jane either wouldn’t hear, or would ignore.

But Jane would never ignore her voice. “Jane,” she said. Firm. Measured. With a not unnoticeable amount of displeasure.

Jane’s next jab thundered into leather, sputtering and corrective. She’d heard, alright. She stopped. “Hey, Maura.” 

Maura studied Jane’s broad, shining shoulders, exposed by her tank top - white and blotched with sweat. When Jane breathed, winded from exertion, Maura stepped closer - learned Jane’s pulse until her own matched it. And that riled her. “I’m here to scold you.”

Jane raised one eyebrow and bared her pretty white teeth when she smirked. “Oh yeah? For what? Tellin’ Frankie not to kiss you? Beatin’ Tommy’s ass outside that bar? Any aspect of the shit storm that has landed on Rizzoli island lately?”

Now, or never, despite Jane’s handsomeness. “None of that. This is about your… your piss poor romantic decisions.”

This time, Jane wavered between pride in Maura’s colloquialism and indignance. “Excuse me?” She said, lips now turned down in a tight frown. 

Maura gulped down some confidence, hoping that when it reached her belly it would eventually metabolize into her bloodstream. She needed it fast. “You heard me. You spent the entire weekend in my home, lamenting that the man who once told you he’d settle down if you married him decided that you were no longer worth it.”

Jane, still taller despite Maura’s footwear, inched closer with a finger in the air. “Hey, you know he-”

Maura stamped one of those feet. “Don’t defend him,” she ordered. Jane froze, finger suspended between them. “Don’t give him any more rope to hang himself. He’s already done it. But here’s what I do not understand, Jane, despite having known you for years now - why would you consent to being treated that way?”

“That’s my business,” Jane replied lamely, dropping her taped hand to her side. “What say do you have in my romantic life?”

“You can claim your independence, your privacy, when you don’t fall apart with me every time he wavers. When you don’t crawl into my bed on the late nights he’s rescinded all his promises. When I don’t even stir because you do it so often now,” Maura hadn’t planned this part of the tirade, but she couldn’t stop. She stood toe-to-toe with Jane, who looked down on her defiant look upwards; she placed her entire right hand on Jane’s shoulder, palm flat. 

When Jane steeled for confrontation, Maura’s hand slipped closer to her clavicle. “You better watch what you say next,” said Jane. The tenor was that of a threat, but there was no bite to it. 

Maura spread her fingers. “Your heart,” she began, and they both looked to where she would be able to feel the roar of the subclavian artery. “It’s crying out for me right now. And it’s crying out for me every time you seek me out. So why? Why accept less than what you deserve? You deserve better.”

Jane deflated. But a small smile accompanied it. “You’re better?”

Maura scoffed. “You don’t think so?” she asserted, however, when she saw Jane’s lips quirk.

“I don’t think there’s anybody better than you,” admitted Jane. “But I also don’t think there’s anyone more scared than me.”

“I can be brave enough for the both of us,” Maura told her. Her hand slipped from Jane’s chest until it fell and caught one of Jane’s fingers. Maura refused to let it go.

[thefallofophanim]

HYDRANGEA AND JASMINE

By the time I blink, I'm back in my room. The sound of the ceremony slowly fades from my mind. The quiet of the Monastery is comforting, similar to the feel of a freshly washed cloth wrapped around my shoulders.

My fingertips caress the mouse nestled in the palm of my left hand. Its white and grey coat is always clean. It's so small, a mouse, and yet so intelligent. It can explore every nook and cranny. Surely it has seen more than I have, perhaps places I can't even imagine.

I jump when a hand knocks on my door. "Come in", I say mechanically. The door creaks open, and Anouk bursts into the room. A relieved sigh from me greets her arrival. "What? Don't tell me you got scared, glasses-head?" she says, barely mocking me.

"I wasn't scared of you. I was afraid of the noise, I wasn't expecting it." I reply as she approaches me. "Sorry." Her forehead sticks to mine, and her hands grasp my cheeks. We both close our eyes and stay like that, for a few seconds. It's our way of greeting each other.

Anouk steps back and sits down next to me. "Is there a reason for your visit?" I ask.

"Whiskers, of course. How could I forget her?" she replies, bending over the mouse in my hands, which raises its snout curiously.

"I see. You show more affection and care for a little mouse than you do for your best and most faithful friend-" "Shhh."

She giggles and pulls something out of her pocket. "I figured she'd enjoy my communion better than I do," she explains, proudly. I look at her, dumbfounded. "You didn't swallow your communion?"

"Of course I haven't. Don't look at me with those eyes Lysander, you know I never eat it."

"I suppose not."

There's an awkward silence between us as she hands her offering to Whiskers, who starts nibbling on it with interest. I feel a little guilty, pointing out our differences of Faith like this. Anouk would be in enough trouble if The Silk knew she didn't have any. She's the one who finally breaks that silence.

"I lied, I didn't come just for Whiskers. You arrived late earlier, which is very unusual, and I observed you. You were trembling, and you refused to watch The Angels."

"I never watch The Choir of Angels."

"You were particularly evasive today." Her face moves closer to mine, so that I can't escape her brown eyes. "I'm worried," she insists.

"There's nothing to worry about."

"Lying to me is pointless, Lys. I know you better than you know your Library."

"It's nothing important. I'll be better soon."

"Listen to me. You've got to face facts, and you've got to know-"

"I already know too much," I say abruptly, turning my body away so I don't have to hold her gaze any longer. Whiskers escapes me, and runs off to hide between two books in the corner of the room. Anouk sighs, then takes my hand. I don't stop her.

"Forgive me, Lys. I didn't come here to argue." I nod, gesturing to her that it's nothing. I can already feel the words escaping me. I'm no longer able to speak, to formulate sentences. I lie down on my bed and turn my back to her, letting her know I'm tired. She understands. She does not mind, she is used to it.

"The hydrangeas finished growing today. Their color is magnificent. Would you like to pick some with me? For your desk." I shake my head. Her fingers gently caress my hair. It feels nice.

"I understand. In that case, get some rest, okay? I'll bring you some when I finish working."

Oh, that's right. Anouk has to work, too. Comforted, I nod again and make a faint sound to express my gratitude. She gets up and walks away. "See you later, Lys," she murmurs as she closes the door.

Alone at last, I hold myself as I close my eyes.

☆

The next day, I'm at my desk, faithful to my task. The ink curves, dances, forms the letters and words along the pages. How lucky I am, to be a descendant of the illuminating monks.

I feel a presence behind me. Semione looks at my work. "Very refined," they comment. "You're gaining in precision. Your style reminds me of my own when I was your age."

"Thank you," I reply. I wonder if I should mention yesterday. I search for my words. "I'm sorry about yesterday,...arriving late at Mass. I wasn't myself," I finally articulate.

"I noticed. Confessor was furious and demanded you to be punished."

My whole body freezes, my breath stops. That single word echoes in my skull painfully. Punished. Punished. Punished. I am going to be punished. Confessor.

"I refused. I defended you and pointed out that you were a model pupil," continues Semione. "You are allowed to make a mistake now and then. We are still human beings. The Choir of Angels remain humans, too, After all. The Entirety of the Silk is. Besides, we were not celebrating anything special, other than Sunday."

"And his answer?"

"He said he'd think about it. I think I managed to convince him, though."

They think. I stand up, ready to leave the room, until my mentor's arms wrap around my shoulders. They embrace me. Their scent is that of jasmine; bringing back childhood memories to my mind. "Don't worry, Lysander. You are safe." I nod, and they separate from me. I can breathe again.

"..." "Anything else?" They ask. "I think I was visited by an Angel," I explain.

Semione frowns. "And did it say anything to you?"

"No." "Let me know if there's any change in the situation, okay? Maybe it was just a Celestial or another divine being coming to reassure you. You have been tormented lately, after all. If not, I'm more qualified to read omens than you are."

"Alright."

After that, they settled down beside me and we wrote and copied together, paying no attention to the sun's course.

[inkedstone]

Answering Your ‘Au where your character finds an injured trueform iros and has to deal with this weird dog’? Because thats JUST Zivs luck. xD

Ziv had followed the scent like a sleuth- she was still a Healer despite her current position as a botanist and if she smelled something that resembled Adrenaline caused by pain, jumping into action was like an instinct. Accordingly she also promptly went into the role of a healer when reaching Iros, talking calmly to get his attention and slowly inching closer. “...So yeh, not gonna lie, I am pretty kriffing sure that you do not belong to the native fauna or flora of this planet. Not at kriffing all. Like,-” the Tynnan leaned her head back and sniffed in the air again, pulling in the scent that smelled more like burned stone and molten minerals than the smell of blood that she as someone specialised on healingherbs was used to since the first day of her training, years ago. The scent stitched into her nostrils like needles, something that made her whiskers and pelt bristle and automatically she started to rub a small paw over her colourless snout and flews, trying to get rid of the scent that even seemed to now burn on her tounge and down her throat. Something in the back of her mind, the small little animal that had yet not become a apex predetor or even sentient, the small little animal from which Tynnan had developed millenias ago, screamed at her to get away, to run, to bring as much distance between her and the (monster, the small animal in the back of her mind screamed) (danger, the small animal in the back of her mind cried) (death, the small animal in the back of her mind begged) ‘ other’ as fast as possible. Ziv, although knowing better, ignored it for now and carefully  walked even closer, sniffing again despite her disgust for the scent in the air for any kind of pheromones that could tell her about the others state or injuries: “- no kriffing offence there, but you definitive do not look like what I had been studying and documenting the last six kriffing months of my kriffing sorry life, full stop. On a completly different sidenote, though-” The Tynnans fluffy ears flicked up alerted,  listening attentive as she continued to talk and with that still walked closer carefully: “-do you even kriffing understand me or is just the isolation getting to me and I am talking to not sentient lifeforms again? I mean, its kriffing possible, not gonna kriffing lie, happned before and will happen kriffing again, lifes kriffing hard and all.” @irrfahrer

"What the fuck are you talking about." The creature speaks despite not having a clear mouth, though given the amount of black ichor covering the ground, it seems likely there's one in there somewhere. It's quite big too, probably seven feet from front to end. Six tendrils are waving wildly, hooked ends latching into anything they can.

Iros, meanwhile, is feeling like complete shit. Something is wrong, and he's not sure what precisely that could be. The amount of ichore he's vomited makes him wonder if it's something he ate, and if maybe there's something else wrong with him.

The moan he lets out is oddly...human. In fact, his voice sounds like a Regular Guy and not a creature that's currently pathetically trying to get on his feet.

"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

[cherrywoodmaeg]

Shortcut Pt. 14

Successfully survived exams, and then I had a holiday in the Netherlands. Yay, inspiration!

Also shoutout to my nurse-turned-med-student partner for fact checking <3

An appointment

For the entirety of the next hours walking, Niphka preoccupied herself with holding Jon as steady as possible. Instead of sitting on her extended hand, he was now leaning against her leather chestpiece while she held him upright. That way, she couldn’t balance out as many bumps in her movement, but Jon had reassured her that he’d been tossed around much worse on the HMS Triumph. Instead, he preferred to stay close to her, as to not be as exposed in mid-air.

She knew that the cause of all her complicated thoughts was her friendship to him. Still, she was drawn closer. She wanted to understand the way he thought, since he seemed to be so good at finding the right words to calm down her racing mind.

It’s been a long, long time since someone did that.

As the sun began to set, her mind wandered to the dawning night. Granted, it felt like the rift between the two of them was closing. But perhaps that was precisely why she was concerned it might rip open again.

Didn’t he ask me to trust him?

“You look like there’s something on your mind,” she heard Jon remark. Niphka paused to look down.

“I’m just thinking about tonight. I don’t want you to wake up like last time.”

He squeezed her index finger.

“What happened- it’s not going to happen again.”

“You cannot know that.”

“Stop worrying about me,” he groaned. “What about you? You haven’t gotten much sleep either, have you?”

“No,” she admitted. “I guess both of us need some recovering. Speaking of which, how is your leg doing?”

He sucked in the air through his teeth. It took a moment before he answered.

“Not good, to be honest. It’s looking better, the bruises and all, but it still hurts a lot. If I didn’t have you, I honestly wouldn’t know how to get from A to B.”

“Can I take another look? Before it’s too dark?

He nodded, and Niphka sat on her knees, after which she put him down. When she let go, however, he stumbled and nearly fell before she could catch him with her left hand.

“Careful!”

Without saying anything, Jon held onto her finger as she slowly helped him into a seating position. He pulled up his pant leg.

Niphka knew better than to touch him. Once again, she cursed her eyes for not allowing her to see. But by how Jon was moving alone, she could tell that something was wrong. He needed help.

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright, I’ll stay here, then. But have to get someone to treat that.”

Jon couldn’t believe it. Only half an hour after their last break, Niphka had stopped again – in a place uncomfortably close to the nightlights of civilization. And now, she wanted to interrupt their mission!

“I don’t want you to stay very long. But you’re helping no one by dying from an infection!”

“We don’t know if it’s infected!” Jon protested, although he knew she was right. Before Niphka could continue to lecture him, he admitted defeat.

“But if I’m going, I’m going by myself!” he stated, and that was that. She helped him to find a fitting stick to use as a crutch. He allowed her to bring him to the nearest road leading into town, under the condition that right after, she would stay hidden until he returned. Jon didn’t have to be a mind reader to know how little she liked that.

They said goodbye and he started to hike. The sun had fully set when he arrived on the streets. There was no one to see outside, and Jon was relieved by that. He wasn’t keen on drawing too much attention, with the rough condition of his clothes (and himself).

Behind one of the doors, he heard loud voices. Above the dirty windows of the run-down two-story house, the wooden letters RED TULIP - TAVERN marked this place to be just what he was looking for. Jon entered.

He was greeted by a surprisingly tidy room full of tables. Some of them were occupied by a wide range of different people. Most of them seemed friendly, a few workers enjoying their aftershift beer. Other guests seemed more reserved and eyed Jon sceptically. Behind the counter, a man in his sixties restocked the shelves with bottles of liquor. Floor to wall to ceiling, the warm wooden panelling was illuminated by the centerpiece of the room: a large brick fireplace.

“Blackberry cider, coming up,” the bartender announced. “And what can I get you, young man?”

Jon had chosen the outer left barstool.

“I’ll have the same.”

He looked around. Most of the other people had lost their interest in him almost immediately and returned to their private conversations. Two of them, a man and a woman sitting near the fireplace, kept looking at him. Against the light, he couldn’t make out much more.

“There you go!” The white-haired man placed a brown, rectangular glass filled with a dark purple liquid in front of him. Jon suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, by the way, do you take this currency?”

He handed over one of the coins that Ida had given him. The man’s eyes widened.

“Young man, for that, I can get you a little more than a glass of cider!”

Good to know.

“I’d be more than happy to leave some of that here, but I need it to pay a doctor. Can you tell me where I can find one? One that is... uncomplicated?”

“Well, I don’t know if ‘uncomplicated’ is the right word, but if you don’t want any trouble, I’d send you to Dr. van Zijl. He works downtown, but he lives a few houses down the street. Hideous yellow door, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Keep that,” Jon added when the man wanted to return the coin.

He emptied his glass. The warmth of the room felt good after the cool outside air. However, he hoped that he could speak to the physician that same evening, so didn’t allow himself to waste more time.

The yellow door was indeed impossible to look past. It was the house’s only distinctive feature in a row of traditional brick houses, and it seemed to be enough of an identifying feature – there was neither a house number nor a name plate anywhere to be seen. A large iron-cast doorbell was the only decorative piece of the front porch. Jon rang.

The door immediately opened.

“Yes?”

A man, almost as wide as he was tall, stood behind the frame. He had black curly hair and a short stubbly, greying beard. He must’ve entered not long before and still carried his white coat over one arm.

“Yes, hello, my name is Jonathan Williams. Dr. van Zijl?”

“The same. How can I help you?”

Jon nodded towards his leg. “I know you’re not at work right now, but the bartender at the Red Tulip told me I could see you tonight. I’m afraid I don’t have too much time.”

“Who among us does?” Van Zijl sighed, but to a step back to let Jon enter. He continued to talk as he led him into a large living room. Contrary to the simplistic outside appearance of the house, the inside was lavishly decorated with all kinds of paraphernalia from all over the world. Most of it was hidden between countless plants, each pot more colourful than the other.

“Bram sent you?” Jon noticed the doctor’s coastal accent. “You know, he does this to mess with me. Trying to keep me busy so I don’t notice that he stays in for work long.”

He pushed aside two empty ceramic vases, both of them painted in swirly shapes, and invited Jon to take seat on a dark green ottoman. Van Zijl himself sat down on a rocking chair.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened to you, son?”

“That’s- …a long story. Long and complicated, and pretty unbelievable, if you ask me, so…” He trailed off as the doctor raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it was just a sprained ankle, but it’s not getting better.”

“Let me see. When did it happen?”

“Four days ago, I think.” Jon replied as he showed the doctor his leg.

“You think? What have you been doing?”

“Travelling.”

“Alone?”

“With a friend.”

“Good. It’s not safe to travel alone right now. Does it hurt when I push here?”

Jon winced. “Yeah. What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing specific. Just people talking. Now, Jon, it seems that your fibula got cracked.” Van Zijl finished his examination.

“Okay?”

“I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is, it has healed quite well. No infections.”

“And the bad news?”

“It healed in the wrong place. Part of the bone is pressing on your nerve, which causes the pain.”

“Oh. Can you do anything about that?”

“Oh yes, I can.”

“More good news, then?”

The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. Jon didn’t like that at all.

“Not for you, I’m afraid.”

Part 13 < Part 14

[amicidomenicani]

Question Hello Father Bellon, I would like to thank you for your pastoral service and I would appreciate it if you could read this email of mine. I apologize if you've found the previous email messy and difficult to understand. I have two doubts at the moment. I. Do we all have the same rights and the same duties? In his latest encyclical All Brothers, Pope Francis affirmed that all men [as well as women] have the same rights and duties. So far so good but, unless His Holiness was referring only to some (fundamental) rights and duties, this may seem contrary to the teaching that the Church has spread over the centuries. Precisely, men are equal in dignity, but the inequalities of rights and powers come from the same Author of nature (SS Leo XIII, encyclical Quod Apostolici Muneris, 1878), and that the disparities of culture, possessions and social position are in conformity with the divine and natural law are not necessarily contrary to the spirit of brotherhood and community (SS Pius XII, Christmas Radio Message of 24 December 1944, 1944). Not to mention the doctrine (see for instance Leo XIII) according to which democracy is only one amongst the legitimate forms of government. Can the Church be a reliable guide in the faith if it contradicts her own teachings?  If there is no contradiction between today's magisterium and the old one, could the magisterium be a little clearer about these fundamental principles? II. According to the Bible, should wives and husbands have the same role within the family? Father Bellon, I believe that the relations between the members of the family must, in part, be established by traditions and civil laws (SS Pius XI, encyclical Casti Connubii, par. II, 1930, and SS Giovanni Paolo II, encyclical Familiaris consortio , art.25, 1981), my question, however, concerns the essential aspects of marriage as established by the Holy Scriptures. In the Bible, reference is often made to the duty of wives to be submissive to their husbands, but a passage from the Apostle Paul's Letter to the Ephesians, the one in which we read be submissive to one another, seems to refer to a more equal relationship between the spouses. Some say that the scriptures are influenced by the culture and mentality that dominated the centuries in which its authors lived. However, the Church teaches that God inspired biblical authors to write only what He wanted (Universal Catechism of the Catholic Church, art.106), therefore each verse more than the culture of the writers should reflect the wisdom of the Holy Spirit who inspired them.  So we should consider that God asks Christian spouses to be submissive to one another, and He strengthens this commandment over wives alone in many other passages. Reflecting on it, I thought that perhaps God asks for two different types of submission to wives and husbands: He asks obedience to the wives and to the husbands to take care of their wives, even giving up their hobbies or always pushing for what they want. For example, the Apostles (the hierarchy of the Church) were subjected to Jesus Christ as the Messiah and consubstantial Son of God, but even Jesus was in some way subject to the Apostles when he had to give up his interests to worry about those slow-thinking men, especially when he humbly washed their feet.  It seems to me that Blessed Giuseppe Toniolo (Treviso, 1845 - Pisa, 1918) saw in this last gesture an example for the human hierarchy of every time. All this without omitting that, as S.S. Pius XI said, the "human" laws can determine in a more precise way the characteristics of this submission, and I add, by bringing the rights and duties of the spouses closer to make them more equal. What do you think? Did I go completely astray? Am I too slow to understand? Answer from the Priest Dear friend, with some delay (almost a year) I reply to your email. I beg your pardon. 1. With reference to the two question

s you asked me: About the first one: Pope Francis said that all men, clearly including women, have the same rights and the same duties. Which is very true. The expression "all men" is equivalent to all people. All people, including children, have the same rights and duties. 2. In the Instruction Donum Vitae (it is an instruction of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith of February 22, 1987) we read: "The human being is to be respected and treated as a person from the moment of conception; and therefore from that same moment his rights as a person must be recognized, among which in the first place is the inviolable right of every innocent human being to life"(DV I, 1). 3. Distinctions are implicitly included in this statement, in particular the distinction between absolute rights and conditional rights.  For example: every person has the right and the duty to participate in social life through elections. Children are also people. Do they have the right to vote? Obviously yes, as they are people. And yet, since going to vote requires at least a minimum knowledge of public life, it is required to carry out an act of such responsibility when the subject has acquired a level of maturity. Similarly, children as persons also have the right to marry. But in fact society prevents it because marriage requires the maturity necessary to assume the marital rights and duties. 4. If you keep these distinctions in mind, you will realize that there is no contradiction between the various interventions of the Magisterium, Sometimes, in fact, the magisterium simply refers to absolute rights. While other times it refers to conditional rights, which are regulated by society. 5. The opinion expressed on democracy, considered as one of the legitimate forms, is also correct. We cannot deny a priori that the democratic system can be improved in the future. 6. The second question concerns husband and wife having the same role within the family. The expression you used is quite vague, because if the spouses have the same rights and duties as spouses, they nevertheless have different duties within the family. Some of them derive from nature, such as the task of carrying children in one's womb, of giving birth to them, of nursing them. Others, on the other hand, derive from customs or cultures. In the past, certain tasks were entrusted to husbands and others to wives, such as cooking or keeping the house tidy. It cannot be denied that women are more predisposed to cleanliness and order. We see it in their own behavior and in their clothing. 7. Regarding submission, you did well to remember Ephesians 5:21 where the Holy Spirit says: "Be submissive to one another in the fear of the Lord". Precisely because he is speaking of mutual submission, St. Paul explains in the following verse: “You wives are subject to your husbands” which goes along with the first verse. 8. St. Paul also says that the husband is "the head of the wife, just as Christ is the head of the church". The fact that he is a leader does not affect the equal dignity of the spouses. Precisely by appealing to the equality of spouses, the Church rejects polygamy, which manifests a superiority of man over woman because it would be up to man to decide how many wives to have. Nor does it mean that the husband is the owner of the wife. But just as the Church is all for the Lord, so also the wife is all for her husband. She is happy to live for him. And this in the same way in which the husband is happy to give himself to his wife down to the last drop of blood as Christ did for the Church, of which he made himself a servant. 9. It is true that St. Paul as an inspired author wrote everything that the Holy Spirit willed. But it is also right to recognize that the Holy Spirit also inspired him in drawing from the society of the time the concept of submission of the wife to her husband. However, not to place an in

equality between the two as was believed in those days, but to purge submission from any possible interpretation of man's domination over woman, to lead to a new concept of submission, which is that of mutual submission. And it’s not only about mutual submission, which is already a great thing, but of reciprocal submission in the Lord, the only Lord of the husband and wife, the first and irreplaceable spouse of each of them. 10. Starting precisely from the divine affirmation that "the two are one flesh" it is out of place to speak of the superiority of the husband over his wife and vice versa. Mutual submission is the fruit of that love for which we give ourselves in totality to one another and voluntarily make ourselves servants for the good of the other. It is submission in love, which leads us to be happy to give ourselves to each other to the last drop of blood. This mutual service emerges in a particularly beautiful text by Tertullian, a Christian writer of the second century: "How will I be able to expose the happiness of that marriage which the Church unites, the Eucharistic offering confirms, the blessing seals, the angels announce and the Father ratifies? ... What a yoke that of two faithful united in one hope, in one observance, in one servitude! They are both brothers and both serve together; there is no division as to spirit and as to flesh. Indeed they are truly two in one flesh and where the flesh is one, the spirit is one ”(Ad uxorem, II; VIII, 6-8). Thank you for giving me the opportunity to clarify these concepts. At the same time I am pleased with you because if I am not mistaken you are that young man who is approaching faith, or better said, our Lord. I accompany you with my prayer and I bless you. Father Angelo 08 January 2022 | A priest replies - Moral theology - Cardinal virtues

[buckybarnesdiaries]

“Love's my religion but he was my faith, something so sacred, so hard to replace. Fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace”.

PART ONE. INDEX.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

word count: ±1.4k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Four years had passed since you left New York to study in London. Your parents went to visit you every two months, but it wasn't the same. You missed your home, the rest of your family, your friends. England was pretty different from the USA in many aspects, so you couldn't wait to leave that city as soon as you were done with your final exams. Your father was supposed to visit you in the next few days, but you wanted to surprise him too by coming back home earlier.

You didn't tell anyone about your flight, taking a taxi outside the airport. Along the way, you were fascinated looking through the window. Your city hadn't changed too much, maybe a couple of shops and cafeterias, but that was everything. You couldn't help but sigh when you left the jungle of skyscrapers to Cold Spring, where you grew. A beautiful and small village with its own charm. Checking the time on your phone and finding some unread messages from your mother, you bite your lips with a soft grin on your lips imagining her face when she watched you there.

But before, you had to make a stop in your own house to leave your suitcase, have a shower and change your clothes. Yes, you would have preferred to have a quiet evening at your home, with your family, but James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was giving a party.

Oh, that man. Your first love. You knew him ever since, being the son of your father's best friend and, now, his associate. He had more than twelve years than you, but love didn't understand about age. And you were conscious that he felt something for you. Maybe attraction, maybe desire. Whatever was enough for you to keep alive the flame inside your heart. You weren't going to lie, you wanted, needed to see him after four years. Four long years without knowing anything about him more than what your father used to tell you about businesses and the presents Bucky used to send you on your birthday and Christmas with a short letter.

You didn't lose time in your task, getting ready to join the party in less than twenty minutes. Looking at your reflection in the mirror of your private bathroom, you couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering within your belly, fantasizing about what he would do when he had you in front of his eyes. You were almost sweating, remembering how good it felt whenever he touched your hand slightly, or how his fingers gripped gently around your thigh sitting together —under the table. Bucky never crossed the limit since he wasn't an associate yet, but now he was the boss the story was pretty different.

The parking attendant took the keys of your car after opening the door for you and stepping out. You said thanks before taking a deep breath with a hand on your belly, trying to calm the nerves as you raised your eyes to the luxurious and ostentatious manor occupying completely your field of vision. The guests outside enjoying different kinds of conversations turned at you astonished but pleasantly surprised. You weren't the innocent girl that left that village four years ago anymore. You were a woman. A lawyer ready to take your throne. To take your place in the company. And you were stunning and radiant on your silk white dress with the back open and exposed.

Not wasting more time on being contemplated, you walked in swinging your hips sensually, calling everyone's attention. Your gaze traveled the place all around till they got bewitched by a pair of oceanic blue eyes among the crowd. Bucky was there between other men, listening to a conversation he wasn't interested in, with a glass of whisky close to his mouth. He took a sip, licking the flavor impregnated on his lips. For a reason you didn't understand, he didn't look surprised, nor curious to know how it was possible you were there. The smile that appeared on your face suddenly went down with disappointment, turning at the amazed tone of voice your father used to call you before embracing you into his arms.

The next hour, your parents introduced you to anyone who didn't meet you personally four years ago, making you feel out of place. Yes, you missed your home and your family, but Bucky's indifference broke your heart in a thousand pieces, glancing at him flirting with any women rattling his saber. Adoring him as if he was some kind of god. It was suffocating you to the point of watering your eyes. As soon as you could escape from the situation of your father showing you like a trophy, you went upstairs to the old library George Barnes owned, and where you used to spend a lot of time in your adolescence. It was a quiet room, soundproofed and packed with huge windows to the nearest forest. A view you liked to stare at in silence during autumn.

Walking inside and closing the door, you toured the hundreds of books thoroughly placed and conservated through the years, landing your fingers in an original version of Alice in Wonderland. You always felt like that, surrounded by people only moved and controlled by money. Money that gave you freedom for four long years in England, but the same that now was your sentence for life.

You couldn't help but shut your eyes when a fingertip traced your bare backbone, causing you goosebumps all over your skin. His strong scent flooded your lungs racing your pulse, as his closeness made jump your heart bout to fly off from your chest. You could recognize that touch between a million. The tenderness with he caressed you, the delicacy he had to admire your beautiful and warm skin.

“White makes you look like an angel”. Bucky whispered hoarsely into your ear, noticing him placing himself behind you.

You swallowed hard, keeping your lips parted while both hands found their way to your arms, pawing them down slowly till being laced with yours. Then, a fond kiss was placed on the back of your head. A sigh escaped his throat when he was able to sink his nose in your hair. The fruity, but subtle, smell dizzied him.

“Red…” He mumbled urging you to turn around and face him, stroking gently your bottom lip with his thumb when he had the opportunity. “Red makes you look like a dangerous weapon”.

“I've been both all my life, not needing clothes or makeup to demonstrate it”. You replied raising your chin in a proud gesture that caused him to chuckle.

“How many boys have kissed them?” Bucky wanted to know, shortening the distance between the two of you until he was practically melting with your body, wrapping his left arm around your lower back. His voice was so sensual that it made your legs feel weak.

But you didn't answer his question. No one. You didn't kiss anyone while you were in London. Barely neglecting your studies, only desiring to pass your exams and come back home to finish the last year of college in New York. You could swear that a lustful shine crossed fleetingly his pale blue eyes, trying to maintain his gaze while his thumb wandered down your throat, moving slowly between the gap of your neckline and enjoying how good it was to touch you again, continuing to your abdomen. Bucky urged you to rest your back against the library, bringing his lips closer to your ear at the moment his hands meet almost in your ass.

Shameless, he settled himself between your legs, leaving a kiss on the sweet spot behind your ear before tracing it with the tip of his nose. “So… you kept your promise”.

Your fingers got tangled strongly in the laps of his jacket when you remembered that precise instant before leaving your house four years ago.

September came with warm evenings and different kinds of orange, brown, and red decorating the trees all around Cold Spring. You were sitting on the grass of the back garden of your house, alone, drinking a glass of vodka. You knew how hard it was going to leave the place that gave you life, happiness, love. Bucky joined you without expecting it and gave you a bracelet made of white gold exactly like the one his father gave him for his eighteenth birthday, with the coordinates of his home —what took you some months to notice was that yours had his coordinates too—. And he asked you if you would wait for him all that time till you were back to his arms.

And there you were, with his lips tracing a path of sweet, loving kisses through your jawline. But they never touched yours, leaving you wanting more, needing him.

“Welcome home, doll”.

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[lexwritess]

incorrect quotes anon, i have a super angsty idea that i think you’ll LOVE. so basically michael x reader but she died at on of the outpost, and were basically the only good part about michael and him not caring about anything anymore (even more than usual lmao). and it’s just grief and sadness and anger. it’s fine if not, if you do i’d love to make incorrect quote for it also! have a great day/night!!!! ❤️❤️

broken promises [m.l.]

pairing: michael langdon x fem!reader

warnings: angst, death, swearing, blood, i don’t think this is accurate i tried to research on lilith but it was difficult but i liked the idea so this version of lilith is mostly based off the one from caos

a/n: i got a little carried away lmao

words: 1.6k

slightly au! i’m going to pretend michael can’t bring dead people back ✌️

y/n is a witch. but she’s a different kind of witch. she was born for a very specific purpose, one that she didn’t even understand yet. she knew she was different though.

she really knew she was different when her supreme, cordilia, tried to kill her.

she ran away from her sisters that night. she didn’t need cordilia to kill her. she already felt dead. defeated. the only real family she’s had wanted her dead.

that’s when she met michael.

michael despised all witches, but there was something about y/n that dragged him to her. the two of them were like magnets and they both felt it. the world always pulling them towards each other.

she met michael when he was at a loss. y/n wasn’t the only one cordilia hurt that day.

y/n found michael in the woods, he looked ill and lost.

y/n brought him to a dark church she saw a couple days prior. they found a woman there that was eager to help them back on their feet and get them well and nourished.

that was a big step for michael. after that visit michael finally got sense of himself. unfortunately, y/n still didn’t understand her purpose.

“i want to help michael, i really do but i don’t know what i’m suppose to do. you’re the antichrist! i’m just a rejected witch.” y/n tells michael gloomily.

tomorrow was a big day for him, he was getting back his ms. mead. of course y/n was happy for him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t need her anymore.

“you are so much more than that. you are more powerful than you think and you are a big help to me. and even if you don’t serve a purpose for the apocalypse i care about you and want you by my side.” michael looks into your eyes and grabs your hands.

that’s where y/n and michael shared their first kiss.

“can you help him or not.” you interrupt the two idiotic coke heads.

“oh. who’s this?” mutt said cockily.

“she’s a witch on my side. her coven tried to kill her. don’t get any ideas though she’s mine.” michael said protectively.

you can’t help but smirk to yourself.

“alright, sorry. please don’t light me on fire.” mutt says defensively.

this is the second time michaels been here. this time he decided to bring you along so maybe you could get an idea what to do next if jeff and mutt didn’t.

“do you have some special marking on you, or have demonic fire powers?” jeff asks you while mutt looks for something to help michael.

y/n shows him the upside down triangle that appeared on her wrist about a month ago.

“not going to lie, that’s kinda lame.” jeff says disappointed.

y/n gives the man a glare and with the wave of her hand the glass bowl of cocaine was now broken across the floor.

“WHAT THE FU-.” jeff yelled before mutt stepped in.

“we can worry about it later. look at the book of revelations. have you read it?” mutt asks.

michael looks at them before opening the book with his magic.

y/n flips through the book when michael is done looking for anything else.

“who is lilith?” y/n ask monotone.

“lilith is technically a witch. she was the wife of adam but refused to sleep with him. eventually she went and sided with the devil. the devil turned on her. lots of variations and stories of her. no ones quite totally sure.” jeff explains.

y/n looks at michael with a skeptical look on her face and he gives one back.

“holy shit, you’re totally lilith! but for the new world!” mutt exclaims.

y/n stands up and look down upon the two.

“how would you know?” y/n raised her eyebrows at them.

“you’re coven tried to kill you, you just so happen to be with the antichrist, the triangle on your arm...makes sense.” jeff says.

y/n stays still staring at them. they gulp under her gaze before she walks out of the room.

michael hurries after the girl, needing to know what’s on her mind.

“y/n, what is the matter dear?” michael asks, linking his pinky with hers.

“i do not want to be lilith.” y/n says strongly.

“if being lilith means i will lose you in the end i don’t want it!” she lets go of michaels pinky and storms off to the car.

“darling you will never lose me! i may have to follow my fathers plans to end this world, but i’m still in charge!” michael yells to y/n.

“promise me!” y/n yells back, finally walking towards micheal.

“promise me.” y/n repeats, this time her tone barley above a whisper.

“i promise.”

-

2 years later

present time

the apocalypse is here. the world is gone. hell is on earth.

and you’ve been by michaels side the whole time.

he kept his promise

and now you were standing in front of your ex-coven.

they were back to kill you, again.

“come back to finish the job?” you bitterly ask cordilia.

“i had no choice! you were made for evil, i was never going to be able to peel you away from him and you would always choose him over your sisters!” cordilia yells.

“well michael never tried to kill me like you did! you were the only family i had!” you yell back, tears brimming your eyes.

you furrow your brows trying to hear what cordilia was mumbling but before you realized it’s too late.

“ms mead!” michael cried.

cordilia had killed his ms mead again.

“fuck you!” you say angerly stepping closer to cordilia.

as you walk closer cordilia is pushed back by your magic, a trail of fire leading behind you.

“how are you doing that?” madison asks in shock.

“because i’m the new supreme.” you smirk.

cordilia laughs bitterly and you look back at her.

“you can never be the supreme. you are a demoness! you are and never will be a real witch!” cordilias words burn in your brain as the realization hits you.

“mallory.” you whisper to yourself.

“precisely.” cordilia smiles.

while michael was having his last moments with ms mead, in the corner of your eye you saw madison grab the machine gun and go to point it at michael.

“repellendum malum minitar, ut nobis!” you quickly shout the protection spell.

you repeat the spell and step closer to michael.

“tutela eorum vinculum!” cordilia starts chanting against your spell.

you repeat the spell but as she gets closer the sheild starts breaking.

“et defendat mea!” you shout louder. the shield starts breaking as the other witches join in on cordilias chants.

“amans vitae meae praesidium.” you say quietly before the shield breaks.

bullets shoot throughout the room before your bloody body slumps against the wall. you feel awful, they shot you enough to make you weak so you can’t heal, but strong enough to let you bleed out.

“y/n?” michael says quietly, before he is shot as well.

myrtle cuts a piece of michaels hair and walks back to mallory.

“hurry mallory, before he heals.” cordilia rushes, and the witches leave the room.

michael wakes and looks over to see y/n’s bloody body.

“y/n! no, no, no!” michael lifts you up so he can hold you.

“michael you have to listen to me.” you cough, as the metallic taste fills your mouth.

“i can save you, i know father can. just stay with me a little longer.” michael pleads.

you smile at him and shake your head.

“listen, don’t kill cordilia. i’m not the supreme it’s mallory. she will go back and kill you in a past timeline, so none of this will never happen.”

“i have to! look what they did to you!” tears fall from his face.

“michael baby, i’ll be okay. i’ll be okay, but you got to make sure you don’t kill cordilia. it’ll bring mallory’s powers to full strength.” you assure him.

michael shakes his head as more tears fall from his crystal blue eyes.

“i love you, i love you so much. i’ll be with you soon.” michael squeezes your hand.

“i love you too michael, so much.” you let out a shaky sigh and squeeze his hand back.

“goodbye michael.” you smile as your eyes start to close.

“no, don’t say goodbye! baby please open your eyes again.” michael weeps.

“fuck! i wasn’t suppose to lose you. i wasn’t suppose to leave you, i fucking promised!” michael screams, while his sobs continue.

“it’s too late langdon.” cordilias chill voice fills michaels ears.

michaels sadness quickly turns to anger as he turns around to see the bitches smug face.

“you killed the love of my life!” michael shrieks.

cordilia hums and stares back at michael before waving the knife out of his hand into hers.

before michael can do or say anything cordilia rams the knife into her chest.

michael is at a loss for words.

he have lost

“no!” he screamed as cordilia fell to her death.

“no.” he repeated while falling to his knees.

he puts his face in his hands and starts sobbing.

he has lost everyone and now he lost the war.

he lost everything because of a job he never asked to have.

“poor michael.” myrtal said quietly while walking over to him.

“please! please just kill me.” michael says defeated.

“you’re the antichrist at his full form. i’m afraid killing you is impossible. you’ll have to live knowing you’ll never have her again.” myrtal says while waking away.

michaels cries continue.

he’ll never see you again.

you’ll never see him again.

in the new timeline he doesn’t exist to you and never will.

that’s what truly killed him.

[a-vild-bluemyrtle]

Gaea - The blooming Spirit

Seth Clearwater x Female OC | 10 years after Breaking Dawn | OC with Earth Powers

Also on: AO3 - FF.net

________________________________

Request from @purpledragon04: Can you write a Seth Clearwater x reader where she has earth elements.

I'm sorry it took me all this time to write this down, but I fell into a rabbit hole and I just lost all my creativity. I still hope you like this :))

Requests are still open, Twilight Wolfpack only!

It took me all my mental strength to finally go out from the house, from my garden in particular and get some fresh air. Lately, all I have been doing is lying in our glasshouse and taking care of my flowers. I didn’t adapt that much to the new town, to the cold and rainy days, to the lack of sunshine and especially the lack of flowers. Green was the predominant colour, together with grey. Green was all I could see since we moved to Forks. And grey was all I could feel, no matter how hard I tried.

Leaving my beloved Alsace was harder than I thought, especially because of my powers. They grew there, they got stronger there, I could move mountains, trees, I could grow roses, lilies, tulips wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I could make strawberries and cherries gems bloom in autumn If I wanted. While in Forks... it was like they just got weaker and I was getting weaker with them.

There was something in that town that just sucked the life out of me, I couldn't feel any connection with the grass, the trees, with the animals and no one could figure out why.

I was used to attracting animals, playing with them, to cuddle them in those endless French summers. There was this innate curiosity in them for me, because of my powers. Controlling the element of earth meant not only being able to let nature grow around me or on me – uncountable were the times I let flowers grow in my hair - but it also came with the ability to be connected to animals, understand them even without speaking the same language. I was used to birds flying to me and sit on my fingers or shoulders just with a tiny whistle or ladybugs quickly crawling on my bare feet.

In Forks I could whistle as much as I wanted, no one ever came. I could stay sit on the grass and no flower could grow.

“This forest considers you a treat, ma chérie. You’re a stranger here, a frightful one I would say. The trees and the animals do not know your powers, it is something never seen here.” My father used to say the first days but the more those days passed the more concerned he became. To not talk about my mother, she was almost hysterical and when she saw me dressed up to go somewhere different from the usual glasshouse, she almost cried.

“Isn’t it a little too much, Maman?” I asked furrowing my brows and questioning if mental sanity was still present in our house.

“You have not gone out since we moved, mon chou” – she started while I rolled my eyes.

“And I haven’t seen you wearing something different from sweatpants and t-shirts for 2 months. I’m just happy to see you in one of your colourful dresses”. She said, gifting me with one of her sweetest smiles.

My mother was the epithet of sweetness and kindness and it was from her that I inherited my powers. On my 16th birthday they flowed from her to me and, if I’ll have a daughter, one day it will happen to us too. My powers will be hers and she will pass to her daughter, and her daughter to her daughter and so on. All the women in our bloodline will always carry the Nature genes (another of my father’s names, who was really into X-Men).

“Anyway, I’m going exploring. Don’t wait for me. If we are lucky enough, I’ll find out why my powers do not work here”, I said while grabbing my pink purse and opening the front door.

“Don’t let the trees catch you, chérie”, my father said smirking. I was waiting for the day in which he’ll finally stop saying such horrible dad jokes. Especially the inside jokes only we could understand.

It was raining outside, like every day in that town, but bringing an umbrella with me was out of discussion. I have never felt so distant from Mother Nature since we moved here, so a little bit of rain pouring down on my bare skin would have been a blessing in disguise. The best sensation in the world: being outside while it was raining, especially during the summer. The only problem was that it was autumn in Forks, and I could have easily caught a cold… still I didn’t mind at all.

----

Hours? Months? Years? I don’t even remember how much time I spent that day in the forest strolling around without really thinking where I was going. At some point, while it was still raining, I also took off my shoes and started walking on the muddy and cold soil with bare feet – which may sound disgusting, but once you try how good it feels to just walk without shoes and feeling every inch of the forest under your feet, you’ll never stop doing it.

As I imagined, no traces of animals or plants moving or whatsoever. There was a strange and ominous silence throughout the forest. No birds were chirping, no snakes slithering, no deer jumping around.

When I got out of the house, I was full of hope, I truly believed that all that negative energy was all in my head, that I could fix whatever was happening at that time. But the more I walked the more I started losing that hope. I couldn’t feel anything.

Arrived at a river, I decided to sit down for a moment. The rain stopped a few moments back. I sat on the riverbank and let my feet fell into the cold – freezing – water as I wasn’t enough wet from head to toe. I sat there, sighing and biting my bottom lips in frustration. Why? Why my powers didn’t work? Was it my fault? Of course it was, it’s never Mother Nature’s fault, it’s always mine. Whatever I was, a collateral effect, a special genes carrier or simply a freak, that forest knew.

Another louder sigh came out of my mouth, almost in a desperate attempt to not start crying. I laid down, on the pebbles surrounding the riverbank and what my eyes saw at that moment freaked me out in ways I could have never imagined.

Two dark brown eyes were looking at me, were curiously observing me from the treeline and they did not belong to another human being. I froze in that position, lying on the pebbles with my nose up in the air and my eyes locked into his.

Only years later I understood what was happening at that moment, only after a couple of months later I found out who was hiding in the treeline, to whom those eyes belonged.

At that moment, though, my brain just shut down and there was nothing I could think of. I was scared but at the same time excited. After two months I finally felt something, and even if it were not positive emotions at least they were some kind of emotions.

I slowly got up on my feet, trying to be as subtle as possible so to not instigate the wolf t – or horse, better – to attack me. Our eyes were still onto each other's, my gaze never leaving his and there was something in him that tangled me.

The rain started pouring down again the moment I decided to take a step forward towards him. At the same moment, he seemed to be scared of me and took a step back, his head tilted to one side, his eyes digging into mine trying to figure everything out.

There was some sort of connection happening between me and that wolf, which fur reminded me of the colour of the sand, or more precisely of the colour of the light in the late afternoon in Alsace. And I would have never imagined what that moment meant for my future, not really far as I imagined it was.

We stayed like that, frozen in time and space, under the rain, looking at each other until we realized, or at least he realized – I would have realized a lot later, I had all the hints in front of my eyes and still didn’t have a clue. No words were spoken, not a single one, the only sounds were the thunders and the rain falling from the sky, and our heartbeats – his way faster than mine.

----

“Still daydreaming, darling?” His sweet voice wakes me up and I shake my head smiling when he puts his warm hand on my shoulder. I don’t think I will ever get used to his warmth, every time he touches me I sweetly shiver.

“Mh… yes”. I whisper, more to myself than to him, absolutely sure that he can still hear me clearly.

He hugs me from behind, trying to find the exact spot I’m still looking at outside our window.

“What is it? A deer? Again?” he whispers to my ear, leaving soft kisses on the side of my neck.

I intertwine his fingers with mine and tilt the head a little, so he has more space to kiss me.

“No, no deer at all, baby”, I reply, closing my eyes and enjoying the overwhelming sensation his kisses and hugs were making me feel. He holds me closer and I can’t help to smile more, thinking about everything that happened since the moment we met.

“It’s raining, exactly like that day”. I turn my head to look at him, at those same eyes that turned me upside down on that pouring day years ago.

Those same eyes that haunted me in my sleep until I found out to whom they belonged: to a sweet, gentle man, with arms and legs covered in tattoos, with hairs longer than mine who I fell in love with instantly and married one night on a beach without telling anyone else. A wonderful man I'm lucky enough to call my husband, the love of my life.

[perriewinklenerdie]

I love you (MO, 17/17, Ethan x MC)

Missed Opportunities Series, Chapter 17

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1070

Summary: All the times when Ethan could have told Claire he loved her but didn’t, and one time he did. Told through Ethan’s eyes.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors please DNI

A/N: The finale is upon us. Welcome to the last part of the series, where we finally change the warnings and just let my two idiots be idiots in love. 

Ethan woke up to the gentle feeling of kisses being trailed up his arm. An effortless smile tugged on the corners of his lips.

“Good morning.” Claire muttered against the skin of his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes. His hand traced a path from her hip, up her back, finally ending with a delicate touch at the back of her neck. Using the new point of contact, he pulled her down into a kiss, humming quietly at the sensation.

“I love you.” he whispered once the kiss ended, nudging her nose with his. Claire grinned.

“I love you, too.”

The next kiss had an entirely different tone. Deep, slow, and hot, it sent them both onto the path of desire, and they soon passed the point of caution. Ethan’s hands reached beneath the fabric of the shirt she was wearing, thumbs finding her nipples.

“Ethan…” Claire breathed out, bringing him closer to her with her legs on either side of his hips and grinding slowly, her intent clear.

“How do you want me, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice level, but the way she moved against him made it incredibly difficult.

“Slowly.” She panted, rolling her hips. Not long after, she fell onto the bed and crooked her finger to beckon him closer. He followed her directions, settling himself between her legs. “Look at me when you come.”

Her words alone could have made him combust on the spot, and they haven’t even started. With no sense of urgency, they got rid of each other’s night clothes and underwear. Claire held her breath when he aligned himself with her entrance, their eyes trained on each other. He fell into her open arms, embrace providing another layer of intimacy. Ethan’s broken groan got muffled by the skin of her neck, his tiny bites causing goosebumps to cover her arms. The muscles of his back were tensing as he held back from moving just yet.

The very first ghost of a sound she made started them both on a steady rhythm, their bodies coming and going together like waves lapping up the shore.

“Oh, god.” Claire’s moan went straight to his head, stroking his ego like nothing else. She snuck her hands under his arms and up his back to grab his shoulders. That form of leverage allowed her a tad bit more control over the situation, both of them now in perfect symphony.

“Lift your hips.” He said, moving his hand away from the mattress. Claire did as he asked, creating enough space for his arm to fit into. The new angle he created kicked the air out of her lungs as it allowed him to hit the spot inside her that made her feel lightheaded.

“Ethan, I want you to- fuck- “

“What was that?” he smirked, snapping his hips a bit more powerfully. She moaned, arching her back even further. Ethan pressed her onto the mattress with his body, kissing her cheek as he repeated, voice dropping to a sultry hum. “What was that?”

Claire shot him a charged look, one of her hands reaching higher to grab his hair and pull on it. “I want you to come.”

He kissed her without any hesitation, their tongues exploring each other as though it was their first time. His words were punctuated with his needy gasps for air. “Wrap your legs around me.” He kissed her, short pecks the only thing they both could afford at that moment. She followed his directions, creating yet another angle for him to enter her at.

Ethan could already feel himself slipping, his self-control leaving him behind. He opened his eyes, staring right at her.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” she said, no hesitation, no pause. Squeezing her inner muscles, she made him stumble momentarily. She repeated it once more as she stroked his broad shoulders and the back of his neck.

“I’m never letting you go. You’re mine.” Ethan was rambling now, his mind losing any coherence it once had.

“Please.” she moaned softly right before she came, his name following closely behind as stars began to appear in her vision. He followed closely behind, staring into her eyes as his movements lost precision and he chased the feeling of ecstasy she always gave him.

Claire held onto him tightly and Ethan kept his gaze on her as he gave her one last thrust. With the last shivers of their high leaving their bodies, they kissed and caressed each other, smiling wordlessly. She stroked the side of his face.

“You look happy.”

“I am happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” he pressed a warm kiss to her hand, then placed it against his heart. “I finally am able to tell you the one thing that’s been on my mind for more than a year now.”

“A year? What took you so long?” she was very obviously joking, but her surprise was genuine and visible. Ethan simply shrugged.

“I thought that was pretty obvious. After the- “ he cut himself off, a cold shiver running down his spine. Claire nodded in understanding. “After the attack, I stopped trying to pretend like I didn’t want you. Like I didn’t need you to get through the day.” His thumb pressed onto her wrist, stroking the discolored skin shortly after. “I was fully ready to tell you after the gala.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“The whole commotion with Leland put a wrench in our peace and my plan. And then your partner turned into a clueless idiot- don’t laugh at me, we both know I was behaving like an idiot.” He scoffed but was unable to fight a laugh of his own, especially when her shoulders shook as she hid her face in his chest for a second.

“I admit, not your brightest moments. But you did get back to normal, so I guess you’re forgiven.” She patted him on the chest, moving to sit up. Ethan had other plans – with his hand still on hers, he pulled her downwards a little, making her laughing eyes meet his again.

“You guess I’m forgiven?”

“Yes. But only because I love you.” Claire grinned, falling back onto the bed and wrapping her arms around his neck. Ethan smiled – he hoped he’d get to smile with her every day from now on. He leaned down to peck her nose playfully.

“I love you, too.”

Notes

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for being here with me along for the ride. It’s been my pleasure to have you here, as I said goodbye to the series that carried me through my bachelors degree. 

There’s an announcement coming your way soon, as well as two fics - one that has an angsty undertone and the other that is half angst and half fluff (only the first one is written so far and all I can tell you is that it’s called Out of reach). There’s also the little thing called The Herondale Family + that I’ve been teasing for a while - that one should make appearance sometime in the future.

Thank you so much for reading and being here, see you soon (on the other side)!

Perrie <3

[weaverlings]

music like white noise

A/N: hello i still Care Them very much

-

Hornet reached for the mug on the table, to soothe the tickle in her throat before it was too late. Before-

She coughed.

Once. Again.

Then she was wheezing, her breath torn and itself tearing her already-tender throat. Driven by the foul compulsion that such a tickle could become, she caught herself on the coffee table and snatched up the mug instead, drowning it all in gulps of tea.

This time, she kept the mug in her grip as she lowered herself back onto the extra cushions and pillows stacked behind her on the couch. She adjusted the blanket with her free claws, fought back the urge to sigh, and took a slower drink.

Lace leaned out of the kitchen, relying on the doorframe to achieve a dangerous angle. “Did you need more tea, sweet?”

“Mm.” Hornet tilted the mug and considered the remaining liquid. “If you could.”

“Of course.”

Lace twirled upright and spun to join Hornet in the living room. Hornet offered up the mug, and Lace leaned down to kiss Hornet’s forehead.

Lace frowned. She pressed a hand where she had kissed. “My, that’s quite a fever.”

“You say this like it’s some achievement.”

“Oh, yes. Not everyone could have such a fever, nor be so lovely even when laid low.”

Hornet snorted, which became a cough. She threw one arm out; Lace passed the tea back into Hornet’s claws. Hornet drained it. She’d averted the worst this time, at least.

“Oh, dear. Sorry, darling.” Lace kissed her again, the same as before, and reclaimed the mug.

“Give me but a moment.”

“Not your fault,” Hornet said to Lace’s back, and settled into her nest again. Unthinkingly, she closed her eyes, giving in however briefly to the not-quite-ache behind them: the sensation like rotted webbing, throbbing slowly.

She should have been in bed, but that would have had Lace back and forth all day at her own insistence, and Hornet’s restlessness would have driven her forth for her own tea at some point. Once, her self-reliance was an endless wellspring, painfully and necessarily so. Resisting this habit could still be its own battle.

So they had reached a compromise: this nest, the pillows and cushions and blankets. Lace had selected them and fluffed them up. Lace had brought Hornet food, and stayed with her in between these tasks.

Lace returned with the mug now, along with a plate and a damp cloth draped over one arm. She looked Hornet over – her dulled chitin, her sharp limbs burrowed or shrouded in fabric, absent their usual sense of constant, pre-spring tension. Hornet’s eyes opened; she watched as Lace set down the tea and the plate and took the cloth in both hands and leaned over her again. Those eyes were tired. Attentive, but tired. Hornet was tired, and it was bound to show through sometimes.

“Here, darling,” Lace said, plainly, tenderly. She draped the cloth between Hornet’s horns, where it might shift, but wouldn’t fall, even if she moved.

“Thank you.” Hornet did move, tugging the plate closer. Toast, topped with a careful amount of spicy pickled waterbug. In truth, she had little appetite, but she needed whatever food she could manage. And it had been thoughtfully prepared, with just enough of the soft spread to keep the toast from being unpalatable. She wouldn’t waste this.

She tucked up her legs as she ate. Lace sat down beside her and picked up a waiting book. Hornet set the plate back on the table and lay back. Lace said nothing, only resting a hand lightly on Hornet’s leg, over the blanket.

Hornet had no input to offer, and Lace’s theatrics were, if anything, born from an understanding of when not to speak. There was no weight in their silence, nothing wanting, nothing to fill.

Sleep would be best. Hornet closed her eyes.

But everything, everything grated – her breath down her throat, the fever under her shell, her head’s wavering between pressure and pain. Indeed, none of it was pain, precisely. She could manage pain, push through if needed. But this wasn’t pain, just sickness. Normal sickness. She didn’t need to push through, and in fact doing so would be detrimental to her recovery.

Sleep would be best. She had eaten, now she should sleep. She should sleep.

As if thinking about it ever helped. She grunted.

“Go ahead and turn on the radio, love,” Lace suggested.

Hornet rolled onto her side. “It won’t bother you?”

“Not at all.”

The device in the center of the coffee table was modern and graceful, all whorls in wood and shining metal. Lace reached forward to fiddle with the wires before pushing it closer to her wife and leaning back, satisfied.

Hornet twisted one bright knob. The next thing she did was lower the volume, and then she let the program sink in. An announcer’s soft voice, offering information about agricultural statistics. She flicked the dial.

A sporting match. This piqued her interest.

She lingered on it. Shots passed and caught, equipment wielded with precision and valor.

It reminded her of all the exercises she’d rather do herself.

Flick.

Two former nobles arguing about something, and ignoring a moderator who tried to bring reason.

Flick.

Instrumental music. Pleasant.

But it left her in the same restless daze that silence had.

Flick.

An audio drama. An angry former guard and a thief, something about a cursed mask.

Trials were performed for the entertainment of others, again rich people behaved poorly.

Though there was some comeuppance.

Hornet listened through to the inevitable betrayal at the end of the episode, in part because she wasn’t absorbing anything at all. She was subject to another coughing fit partway through, requiring more tea and a steadying backrub from her wife.

After that, she realized that this would require more focus than she had to appreciate, and that if she had that focus, she wouldn’t have enjoyed it much. It wasn’t to her taste.

Once again, her claws darted from under the blankets. Flick.

An opera. The singer’s voice was dimmed by the radio, but otherwise high and full in spite of the grainy speaker. Hornet listened long enough to determine that it was a comedy; the singer was dramatically lamenting a ribbon lost in a river as if it were a pet.

“You could do better,” Hornet observed.

Lace sang quietly, without looking up, “Just so, ma petite araignée, just so.”

Still, she left it on. It occupied enough of her attention to let the rest of her drift off. And it seemed that Lace was familiar with the piece, because here and there she sang along: sweetly finishing the lament of the ribbon, falling silent for the next section about a carriage ride, and joining in again for a song about cheesemaking.

Hornet thought it was about cheesemaking. She dozed, deeper and deeper, catching less frequent snatches of music. So perhaps the cheesemaking was a metaphor of some sort.

She couldn’t be sure.

-

Hornet sneezed, uncurled, and was halfway upright on one arm before Lace said, “Where do you think you’re going, darling?

Hornet looked over, and stared at her numbly. Her breath wheezed through her mouth. Finally, she said, “Wherever I please.”

And then she dropped back heavily onto the couch and pressed her face back into a pillow. The cloth rubbed into her shell. It should have been tepid, but it was refreshingly cool. She lifted her head enough to pluck at it, and found that it was a different color than before. Lace must have changed it while she slept. Hornet hadn’t stirred at all, so she supposed she’d needed the rest.

“How long?”

“Long enough for me to make soup.” Lace leaned forward and spun the lid off a thermos that had been waiting on the table. She passed it to Hornet. “About four hours.”

The soup went down almost easily. Her sore throat had been replaced by mere roughness, and the warmth and substance itself would have helped no matter what. She took a long drought, drawing in the salt and strength.

She set it back on the table with a determined plunk. “Much better. My thanks.”

“Good.” Lace sighed fondly. “It’s so boring when you’re not well enough to spar. No one else is half as fun.”

Hornet smiled, a wide twitch of her chelicerae. “Ah, and so you reveal your true purpose.”

Lace pressed a hand to her chest. “Wanting to spend time with my handsome wife, feeling her best?”

“Don’t frame it like that. You’ll make me feel guilty for teasing.”

“You always were soft-hearted,” Lace said, her lilt making it a compliment. She leaned in and stole a quick kiss between Hornet’s parted fangs.

“As you say. But enough,” Hornet croaked the declaration. She cleared her throat and coughed, but got her breath back alone. She took a drink of soup just because she wanted it. She sat up and shoved the pillows towards the back of the couch, and commanded, “Come here.”

“Very well.” Lace obliged, claiming the space Hornet indicated so that Hornet could lie in Lace’s lap. “Comfortable?”

“Finally.” Hornet slid her arm up to reach around Lace’s shoulder from the back. She pulled herself against Lace’s chest. “If you try to move me, you’ll see whether or not I’m truly able to spar.”

Lace hummed. “You are feeling better, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’d not give up such a luxury as this.”

"Nor would I," Hornet agreed. She nestled into Lace's lap, and closed her eyes again.

Her entire life had become luxurious, it seemed. And there were no requirements to earn it; not suffering, duty, nor any performance. She could have them just by existing, which was well enough, if surreal.

But then there was this, too: here and now, the softness around her aching body, the food warm and ready, and – and, miraculously while yet the most natural thing in the world – her wife with her. None of it was lost, even while she was suffering. She didn’t have to earn them, but nor were they likely be taken away from her. This had been proven, time and again.

That, she supposed, was safety.

[rebelwrites]

Restoration

Jax Teller x Daughter Reader

“You gonna actually behave for your father this week?” You mum asked as you packed your bag.

“Maybe, depends if he pisses me off or not” you shrugged.

The thing was your mum and dad split about 4 years ago, a year after Abel was born. They had you at a young age, at 15 to be precise, you was now 18 and had seen their relationship completely fall apart, you saw how he treated your mum towards the end of the relationship and you hated it, you hated how he made your mum feel, how you saw the whole thing. However you were grateful Abel was still too young to understand what was going on.

“Y/N please, I know you don’t get along with him but he is your dad at the end of the day” mum sighed.

“Not gonna change my opinion on him” you laughed.

Even though your parents weren’t together anymore they never actually filed for a divorce.

“Just try” mum said placing her hand on your shoulder “for Abel at least, it’s hard enough on him as it is”

“And it’s not hard for me mum” you spat “try going through school where everyone is obsessed with the sons, constantly badgering me about them, about dad, asking if the fucking rumours are true”

You knew that your mum wasn’t completely innocent in the whole relationship break down. So you had an attitude with them both.

The drive to Teller-Morrow was silent, neither you or your mum spoke because you were your father’s daughter at the end of day, your mum always said it was like having a female Jax in the house, the way you held yourself, your attitude, your temper. So no words were spoken just for Abel’s sake, he didn’t need to see his sister and mum biting each other’s heads off.

Climbing out of the car, you grabbed your bag from the boot, before wandering off to find your uncles, at least you had a good relationship with them, it was just the relationship with your dad that was rocky.

You didn’t get it, he was such a good father to Abel, but with you it was a different story, one of his biggest regrets was you seeing the breakdown happen, all the arguments that happened when you were younger. Since then you saw the man that you once saw as your hero as the bad guy.

“Hey kiddo” Jax grinned, opening his arms to you.

“Whatever dad” you huffed walking by him, dumping your bag on the picnic bench before placing a cigarette in your mouth.

“She’s in a mood, sorry Jax” you heard mum say, making you roll your eyes. “Give her a couple of days and she should calm down”

“She’s so much like me it’s scary” he sighed as he watched you laugh with Tig and Happy.

“If you’re gonna talk about me can you at least go somewhere where I can’t bloody hear you” you snapped not looking at them.

Jax knew that with both his kids being here with him for the week, he was going to try his hardest to mend the bridges that had once been burnt. He wanted nothing more than getting his little girl back.

“I will speak with her” Jax nodded as he took Abel into his arms, who was grinning at the sight of his daddy.

At least one of his kids didn’t hate him.

However he had a plan, he knew you loved bikes, so he had one sat in the garage waiting to be restored and he was hoping it was something you could do together and then he could teach you to ride. He knew it wouldn’t magically fix the relationship but at least it would give you a memory that wasn’t bad.

Your mum had now left, which meant you were stuck with your dad for the next week, no doubt it would be a week of you looking after Abel, it always was when you were here, the club came before you. It always had and always would.

“Table in 5” Jax shouted as he walked into the club, he didn’t miss the eye roll that came from you, he knew what you thought, you had only been here 10 minutes and he was putting the club before you. But this time would be different.

“Okay so everyone knows my relationship with Y/N is very much on the rocks right now” Jax sighed running his hand over his face. “And I know it’s my fault and I want to fix that, so this week I only want to be involved in club business if the shit has hit the fan. Anything else speak to Chibs, I need to fix things with my little girl before it is too late”

Everyone nodded, they knew how much Jax loved you, you was his first born at the end of the day and it killed him knowing that you hated him.

“Anything we can do to help we are here” Happy nodded.

“Thanks Hap but this is something I need to do on my own, I created this mess so I need to fix it” Jax sighed “If it can be fixed”

It was now Wednesday and Jax still hadn’t made any progress, the bike lay untouched in the garage, and you hadn’t spoken more than a few words a day to him.

“Uncle Hap am I being a bitch?” You sighed looking up at him as you lit a smoke.

“Honestly kiddo, I know where you are coming from but he is the only dad you are gonna get” Happy said placing his hand on yours. “I know the reasons you have for hating Jax but he misses his little girl, I’m not saying forgive him straight away but stop shutting him out”

“I miss my dad” you sighed “but you didn’t hear me say that”

“My lips are sealed” Happy nodded “you know he took a step back from the club this week to spend time with you and Abel”

“I didn’t know” you sighed running your hand over your face.

“I think he wants to restore a bike or something with you” Hap smiled kissing your head “he’s in the garage”

Trudging into the garage with your head hung low, you felt guilty about how you went off at dad this morning.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled, not looking up.

You heard him sigh and his footsteps getting closer to you.

Talk about irony, the radio had started playing bad husband, scoffing as dad placed his hand on your shoulder.

You can be a liar and a good father A good dad, but a bad husband

“Guess the song is 90% right” you sighed “you are a good father to Abel at least”

“Hey look at me kiddo” Dad said lifting your chin. “My biggest regret in life was letting you see all the fights between me and your mum. I know that has done so much damage to our relationship but I never stopped loving your or your mum okay”

You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to say.

Forever be a hero in my eyes, But there’s always another side. To a good father. A great dad, but a bad husband

“Look me and your mum still love each other and we probably always will” he sighed “we just don’t work well together okay but that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you”

All I want is for us not to hurt. And it’s been an exhaustive search to find the words

The song was basically saying everything you couldn’t.

But I’m not so sure how to close this. I just don’t know how some people can be so good At one thing and so fucked at a whole ‘nother, shit, it’s no wonder

You both just stood there not saying a word as Jax pulled you into his arms holding you tight.

“I’m not saying we have to go back to being as close as we once were but I want a chance, a chance to mend the bridges I burnt, I want to be in your life and not as someone you hate” Jax whispered.

Nodding your head, you sniffed as a tear fell down your cheek, this was the most you had talked in a year. All you wanted to hear over the past year was that your dad still loved you.

“You don’t have to say anything yet sweetheart” dad whispered kissing your head “now what do you say to helping your old man fix this bike up and then I would like it if you let your old man teach you how to ride”

“I’d like that” you mumbled.

The next few days flew by and your mum had arrived to pick you and Abel up. Pushing yourself off the bench you walked over to her with a slight smile on your face.

“Come on, let’s get you home” mum said.

Glancing over to your dad you smiled softly before turning back to your mum.

“Actually mum, I think I’m gonna stick around here a bit longer” you nodded feeling Jax place his hand on your shoulder squeezing it softly. “I wanna stay with dad, we still have a bike to finish”

-

Your mum stood staring at you, confusion spread all over her face.

“You want to willingly stay?” She questioned

“Yup” you nodded.

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” She laughed before turning to Jax “you okay with her staying?”

“Course I am” he beamed at the fact you wanted to stay with him longer.

As soon as you said bye to your mum, you headed back into the garage leaving Jax stood there in his own world.

“Come on dad the bike isn’t gonna fix its self” you laughed rolling your sleeves up.

The hours flew by and you was both covered in grease, Chibs walked outside hearing all the laughter coming from the garage, a smile formed on his face as he snapped a photo of the two of you before walking back into the club house.

“Okay a know normally a would bring this ta table but no one is to disturb Jackie Boy, a don’t care wha it is, if it’s club business, Ye arms fallen off or Ye are on fire, ye come ta me” Chibs smiled leaning against the bar. “Tha is until further notice, this is wha they both need”

Everyone nodded in agreement, it was nice to see you and Jax not at each other’s throats and they knew that the fact you wanted to stay here meant you really wanted to rebuild the relationship

Standing back from the bike something clicked.

“Why does this bike look so familiar?” You asked.

“Well princess it was your grandads” Jax grinned draping his arm around your shoulder.

“JT’s” you said looking up and he nodded. “Wait and you are just letting me have once we have fixed her up?”

“That’s the plan” Jax laughed “he would have wanted you to have it and it’s better than it sitting gathering dust”

You were in awe, you knew how much this bike meant to him. Wrapping your arms around him you gave him a tight hug.  

Neither of you talked about much other than the bike, outside of the garage you were slowly building things back up, you both knew it would take longer than a week but it was a start.

“So your mum says you’ve been getting into trouble at college?” He asked as you were packing the tools up.

“Meh” you shrugged “someone said something, I didn’t like it so I fucking punched them and broke there nose. No biggie”

Jax couldn’t help but smirk, you were exactly like him, in so many ways.

“You can’t say anything dad you taught me talking was boring when you can fight it out” just as you said it an idea popped into your head. Spinning round on the balls of your feet you grinned at your dad.

“No, nope happening” He laughed when he realised what you was thinking “me and you aren’t going at it in the ring” he chuckled.

“Why do you think you will lose old man” you taunted.

“Nope it’s not that” he said looking up “I am not boxing with my daughter”

“You’re just scared because you know I’m gonna beat your ass” you giggled squaring up to him.

He knew you weren’t gonna back down. You was a Teller at the end of the day.

“Fine but if you get hurt you are telling your mum it was your idea” Jax sighed in defeat.

And with that you ran off into the clubhouse to tell everyone.

It was now 7pm and Tig was wrapping your fists.

“You sure about fighting your dad kiddo?” He asked.

“Uncle Tiggy I’m sure” you nodded “we need this, well I need this. If I’m gonna let go of the past I need to do this”

“Okay then” he smiled kissing your fist “beat the shit out of your old man”

You were now standing face to face with your dad in the ring. He knew what was happening, and he wasn’t going to fight back, he had overheard what you said to Tig. So if beating the shit out of him was what you needed to forgive him then that is what he was going to let you do.

Punch after punch, you felt the anger flow through your fists, you were fuelled by every bad memory, everything he did and he just let the punches keep coming.

Your emotions got the better of you as you scream, pounding your fists against his chest as you burst into tears. As soon as this happened Jax wrapped his arms around you, dropping to his knees holding you tight.

“That’s it princess let it all out, all the anger, all the pain” he whispered rubbing your back. “I’m never gonna leave you okay, no matter what happens with me and your mum, you will always have your old man in your corner. My biggest regret is you saw everything happen, I never wanted you to feel like I loved Abel more than you, you are my little girl, my princess and I love you”

Once you had calmed down, you felt a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you no longer felt an immense hatred towards your dad.

It had been a couple of days after the ‘fight’ and you had actually started to open up. The bike was finished and you were just putting the tools away.

“I want to drop out of college” you said “it’s really not for me, I struggle with the exams and coursework”

“You know whatever you decide I will support you” Jax smiled softly at you, hee knew where you was coming from, he was exactly the same when it came to tests and the theory behind things. “If you did drop out what would you do?”

“Actually I wanna be a mechanic” you said looking up. “Maybe I could work here”

“Why don’t you sleep on the idea and if you really want to drop out then we will get it all sorted” he said kissing your head. “Now what do you say we take her for a spin?”

“You think I’m ready for the roads” you laughed.

“You are a natural” he grinned tossing you your helmet “it’s in your blood”

The rest of the day was spent riding round the streets charming, a smile on your face and your relationship with your dad well on the road to being what it once was. Never in a million years you would have thought that restoring JT’s bike would actually restore your relationship as well.