#A Cold Highland Wind
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jolieeason · 1 year ago
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October 2023 Wrap-Up
Here is what I read/posted/won/received/bought in October. As always, let me know if you have read any of these books and (if you did) what you thought of them. Books I Read: Books Reviewed: The Parachutists by R.L. Minnich—review here (4 stars) Tantalus Depths by Evan Graham—review here (4 stars) The Intern by Michele Campbell—review here (4 stars) A Cold Highland Wind by Tasha…
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eoinmcgonigal · 1 year ago
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09: Bill/Johnny
Sloowly getting through @almost-a-class-act 's wonderful prompts! This one is: Character A has just moved in and it's Character B's turn to tell the new neighbour the neighbourhood's dark secret…
Now, I've set this in rural Scotland. I've given Bill the appropriate language, but I have zero idea how to actually spell it. It's one of the stupidest things I've ever written, but no, I'm not taking it back. Bill Fraser is a teuchter now (for this fic at least).
War is Helloween
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He’s seen him before. In the darkness of the countryside, folk illuminated only by the built-up bonfire, the occasional sweeps of torches, and the sparkers the children run around squealing with, Bill finds himself looking towards the stranger. It’s hard not to notice newcomers around here, and especially not ones so handsome they turn heads wherever they go. The blond hardly seems like he belongs amongst countryfolk and farmers, but he’s ended up at the fireworks display on the brae all the same. Bill first saw him two days ago in the village shop, where he was with a young woman, a babe in her arms. His sister, the gossip says. Bill’s already heard the older folk muttering about it, wondering where the husband is, and what the brother is doing here. He’s sure he’ll hear all the news the next time he goes to the Fife Arms, whether he wants to or not.
He can’t deny feeling curious, though. Not much changes around here—not usually for the better, at any rate. Besides, the man is good-looking. Johnny Cooper. There’s something about him that catches Bill’s eye, and makes him half want to go over.
He doesn’t, though. Johnny is surrounded by some of the farmers’ wives, and is gratefully accepting bonfire toffee. Bill’s mouth is still sweet with the rare joy of it, Jenny Grant’s recipe as good as he remembers from childhood. It’s as warming to him as the bright fire that’s been built to last, and he’ll try to get another few pieces off of her before he heads back home.
Until then, he stands in the cold November night, waiting. A few friends and folk have drifted by, stopping to chat, offering him a beer, and he nods and listens to the words they have to say, contributing here and there. He finds himself standing in a loose group of men, their attention turning towards the pitch dark beyond the fall of the firelight when a faint torchlight flickers there. Johnny is still on the other side of the little gathering when the fireworks begin. Bill looks away from him, to enjoy the display. It’s nothing like the big, fancy ones he sees on the telly. He wonders what Johnny makes of it. If he likes it here, or if he thinks as little of this place and its people as townfolk usually do, the way of life too small and simple to be worth noticing in their opinion. Plenty outsiders have bulldozed in and then drifted away again, not taking to the lifestyle, or simply missing the glittering lights and apparently comfort of bustle.
Bill likes it here, though. It’s home. He watches the fireworks light up the darkness, and feels something ancient and primal tug at his heart. You can’t feel this anywhere else, he thinks as a chill breeze stirs around the little gathering.
When the last firework is spent, all that’s left is the warmth of the fire, and the people around it. Bill soaks it up, lingering as people start drifting home—the folks with younger kids first, then others following. He snags some more of Jenny’s bonfire toffee, and sees that Johnny is just drifting from the circle of firelight. There’s a set to his shoulders, a sense of purpose about him that makes Bill’s blood run cold.
Half running, he catches up with the man. “Oi!” he calls out.
Jumping, Johnny turns around, laughing. “You scared me!” He’s grinning, the distant fireglow softly picking out the features of his face.
“Far ye gaun?”
A blank look. Bill gestures out at the darkness.
“Yer car? Far’s it at?”
“Oh!” Understanding dawns on Johnny’s face, his smile softening but not fading. “My sister has it. I was going to walk.”
“Tae the village?”
“Um, yes?”
The cold feeling in Bill’s blood grows more profound. “Ye cannae dae that,” he warns.
“No?” Johnny looks around, out into the darkness. “I mean, it’s only two and a half miles?”
Bill shakes his head. “Ye’ll no mak it.”
“Um,” Johnny breathes. He’s not smiling any more. “But I came—”
“Ah’ll gi ye a lift,” Bill insists. “Or, if ye rither, ony ae the fowk here wull gi ye a lift. Just dinnae wauk it an yer ain, aye?”
“O–okay?”
The distant, warm glow of the fire is reflected in the blond’s wide eyes, and Bill suspects that, while he might have got the gist, he’s a bit dazed. Another chill curl of wind swirls around them, and they both shiver.
That seems to decide it. Relenting, Johnny moves closer to Bill. “Where’s your car?”
Bill points back towards the other side of the gathering. “Mandy’ll be glad tae tak ye, if ye’d rither.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m good.” After a few paces, Bill hears a shift in fabric, and a hand is drawn out of a pocket and offered to him. “I’m Johnny, by the way.”
“Aye, Ah ken,” Bill nods. It’s an awkward angle to shake someone’s hand at, the gesture out of place here. He lets it happen, though, giving Johnny a brief, firm squeeze of a handshake. Johnny’s hands are cold, but there’s a warmth that transfers to Bill at the touch. Stickiness too. They’ve both had toffee. It’s the reason Bill hasn’t pulled his glove back on.
He pulls them on now, knowing it’ll be cold for the first few minutes, until the car heats up. There’s a heavy jacket on the passenger’s seat, which he pulls out of the way as soon as he gets in, the wellies in the footwell joining the jacket on the back seat.
Johnny looks so out of place as he gets in, the harsh interior light of Bill’s car making him look pale. He’s probably cold, Bill realises.
“Ye cauld?”
Rubbing his hands against his thighs, Johnny nods. Bill pulls the jacket forward again, offering it over.
“Hae a shottie o this till the heatin kicks in.”
“Thank you.”
They fall into silence as the light dims and Bill starts the engine. He rolls slowly out onto the single track road that winds its way down the brae and towards the village. They’re near to the planted forest of Norwegian pine when Johnny finally speaks again.
“What’s wrong with walking?”
The headlights fall strangely on the pines for a moment, and Bill watches the shadows shift. “Naebody wauks atween the braes an the village this tid o year.”
In the pause, Bill tries to work out how to explain what people usually figure out, if they move here early enough in the year, or if they have any sense.
“Why not?”
It’s best to keep it simple. “Fowk disappear.”
“They get lost? Isn’t there only one road?”
There is, and it follows the contours of the land, the fall and rise and then fall again down into the village. They are clear of the trees now, and in the gully that curves to the left, is a burn. It’s impossible to see in the dark—the headlights don’t peer down over the edge. “Aye,” Bill has to agree. “Bit thare’s mae tae it then that.”
Beneath Bill’s jacket, Johnny shifts, shivering. Bill reaches out to turn the heat up.
“I’m fine,” Johnny insists. “I just… don’t get it.”
“Dae ye wint tae?”
“I guess?”
They’re one bend away from being within sight of the village, and Bill feels like he can speak easier when he sees the warm glow of the streetlights. He doesn’t need to ask where Johnny lives. Everyone knows.
“Thare’s simmat oot there, simmat auld.”
“Something?” Bill catches the crease of worry lining Johnny’s brow. “Like… an animal?”
“No quite. Hiv ye nae feelt it?”
“No?”
They turn into the lane that leads quickest to Johnny’s home. From the tone of his voice, the uncertainty wavering in it, Bill suspects that Johnny has felt it.
“What is it?”
Bill doesn’t quite know how to answer that. As he pulls up, he leaves the engine running, heat starting to spill enthusiastically into the car. The light from the streetlamps has a different quality to it than the firelight, but, as uneasy as he looks, Johnny still looks handsome. Beautiful, even. It’s warmth like that that keeps the cold and the darkness from taking over everything.
“The lan.”
Johnny blinks. “The land?”
“Aye, this place. Atween the noo an Februar, it’s hungert fae wairmth. Dinnae wauk ootae the village aifter dark.”
“Seriously?” In the safety of warmth and light, scepticism steals over Johnny.
“Aye. Ask aebody,” Bill promises. “Fa telt ye tae come up the braes oniehoo?”
“Um… Mitch? Mitchel?”
“Eejit,” Bill mutters. He can believe that Mitchel forgot to make sure Johnny was getting there and back safely, although he’s of no mind to let the man get away with it when Bill sees him next.
Johnny is toying with the collar of Bill’s jacket. “So this wasn’t some elaborate ploy to get me alone?”
“Elaborate?” Bill echoes. “No, Ah wantit tae mak sure ye got hame safe.”
“I was joking,” Johnny smiles, and Bill realises that maybe he was, but perhaps he wasn’t. He lets out a breath, not sure what to say.
As his jacket is offered back to him, Bill takes it mutely, looking at Johnny’s hands, then up at the beautiful but utterly unprepared young man.
“Thank you, um…”
Bill waits as the silence drags on.
“You didn’t tell me your name.”
Oh. Right. “Bill,” he supplies, aware of the way his cheeks have started to flush. It’s annoying, and he reaches out to turn the heating down. “Ah mean it,” he impresses on Johnny. “Ye haftae stay safe.”
“I will,” Johnny says, with what feels like the right amount of sincerity.
“Good,” Bill nods.
“Thank you, Bill.”
Johnny already said that, but it’s nice to hear it again.
“Good night.”
“Nicht,” Bill answers.
Reaching for the door handle, Johnny goes still. “Um…” he turns around again, his mood tentative. “What was that sweet stuff?”
“The bonfire toffee?”
“I think so. I’ve not had it before. Do you know the recipe?”
Bill does not, but he knows where it’s written down in the old cookbook that used to be his grandmothers. “No, but Ah can get it fae ye.”
“I’d like that, thank you.”
“Nae bither.”
When Johnny smiles again, Bill gets the feeling that Johnny would be quite happy to linger here a while longer. He’d be happy if he did. All that lies ahead of Bill is the dark drive home.
“See you soon?” Johnny seems to hope.
Bill nods. “Aye.”
With a bright smile that brings something of the sun to the night, Johnny goes.
Bill isn’t entirely sure if Johnny will pay heed to the warning or dismiss it as nonsense, but what he does know is that the long winter ahead is going to be much easier to bear if he has a chance of seeing that beautiful smile again.
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spectres-n-soap · 11 months ago
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Soap x Reader x Ghost - The Highlands of Your Heart Masterlist
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The Highlands of Your Heart
Let's Walk in The Grass
Let's Sit and Watch The Clouds
The Clouds remind Me of You
You keep The Rain at Bay
Yet the Rain Comes Anyway
In The Rain I Cannot Find You
Your Warmth is Fading
The Rain Is Cold and You Are Gone
I Scream and Scream, Can You Hear Me?
A Spectre Remembers
To Live is to Love. To Grieve is to Love
Hand in Hand
Times Long Since Past
All The Things I've Said
All The Things I've Said Pt2
All The Things I've Said Pt3
A Soft Breeze
The Past
One Step Forward, Three Steps Back
More to Come...
Storm Clouds
Thunderstorms Are Here
The Olive Branch
Into The Wind
Thunder and Lightning
Clear Days
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rurann · 2 months ago
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Ruthless x Empathetic (Geshu Lin x Reader)
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Chapters:
Next: Chapter Two
Tag list
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Summary:
All you wanted was to help the wounded, to be a healer in a chaotic world. But after a fateful encounter with the cold and feared General Geshu Lin, your life takes a dark turn as he becomes dangerously obsessed with you.
[I made this because of the lack of Geshu Lin fanfics!]
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Tags: Explicit
Love Triangles, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, General x Medic, Yandere Geshu Lin
[Tags will be updated as the story goes but I intend to have this story rated Explicit.]
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Chapter One
The Ruthless General
Your dream was to heal as many people as you could. You had witnessed your older brother take his last agonizing breath in the clinic, and since then, you harbored the dream to become a medic and bring recovery to everyone.
It was probably due to your immense determination towards your goal that you soon became blessed with a Tacet mark and the Glacio attribute at a very young age. By the time you reached your older teenage years, you became a well-known, reliable medic in Jinzhou. This popularity aided you in getting a spot among the Midnight Rangers. As soon as you reached eighteen, you received the military letter of recommendation.
After undergoing the necessary programs, you were finally thrust into the real, harsh battlefield as a rearguard, a combat unit specializing in healing the wounded.
Wounded soldiers, who had faced the gruesome Tacet Discords in Norfall Barrens, came rushing into your tent. Each of them elicited their own noises of pain - either by grunting, groaning, screaming or wailing. You had seen and heard it all. It reminded you of your dear big brother.
After numerous waves of TDs, it finally stopped. All of you were given a chance to rest at the main base in Desorock Highland.
You dragged yourself to refill your bottle with water somewhere in the base. You almost chugged everything in that bottle in one drink. It finally dawned on you that you were sweating lightly all over.
“You may take a full rest if you need to.”
The masculine voice staggered you out of a trance. You looked over to see it was a man with rather long teal hair, tied high in a ponytail. You recognized him in an instant.
Jiyan. He was one year older than you, and he was very wise in your eyes. He impressed you so much at first sight. He was still a young adult and he already joined the Midnight Rangers as a doctor. His medical prowess and knowledge were astounding as well. He helped you a lot during your training as a newly enlisted soldier. It was safe to say that he was your mentor when it comes to medical subjects.
“Oh, Jiyan, it’s you…” you let out a sigh. You refilled the bottle again and addressed him. “I’m doing fine. How about you?”
He approached you calmly, his teal eyes soft with concern. “I've been through worse. But you… you've been working nonstop since we arrived. Even healers need to rest.”
You gave a small nod, though your mind was still racing with images of the wounded soldiers. “I know, but… I can’t. Some of them were so close. If I hadn’t…”
You trailed off, gripping the bottle tighter as your knuckles turned white.
Jiyan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His grip was very gentle, the same way he’d guided you through your toughest moments during training. “You did more than enough. You’ve saved lives today. That's what matters.”
You glanced up at him, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. His presence was like a calming wind, as it had always been. Still, the weight of responsibility pressed down on you, relentless. “I suppose… but it's hard to shake off these images…”
Jiyan gave you a small smile. “That's the burden of a healer. You feel every loss as if it's your own, but you mustn’t forget the ones you saved. You need to take care of yourself, too. Otherwise, how will you keep saving others?”
You stared at him for a moment before sighing, your shoulders finally relaxing. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Other than being a knowledgeable medical healer, Jiyan proved to know how to get someone’s spirits up as well. As you watched him walk away, his words lingered in your mind, offering a sense of reassurance that you didn’t know you needed. He had a way of grounding you, reminding you of the balance between healing others and caring for yourself. You felt the tension in your body ease a little more, and for the first time since the battle ended, you walked with the weight on your chest lightened.
You went back to your tent and took the time to clean up and prepare for what little rest you could get. As you scrubbed away the grime of battle, you felt the tension in your body slowly ease, and for the first time in hours, you felt a glimmer of peace.
“General Geshu Lin!”
The sudden call outside snapped you out of your thoughts. You peered out of the tent to see a figure approaching—the renowned General of the Midnight Rangers, Geshu Lin. His presence commanded the space around him, with his flowing white hair and sharp amber eyes that seemed to cut through anyone who dared meet them. The subtle scar that crossed his lips only enhanced the intensity of his expression. Dressed in his signature black uniform, he was a striking figure, one that demanded both respect and fear.
The atmosphere shifted the moment he arrived. The rangers in the camp stood straighter, their expressions turning tense. Even the wounded seemed to gather some strength, driven by the authority that surrounded him.
“General,” one of the rangers stepped forward with a hesitant but respectful tone, “the Tacet Discord attacks have weakened significantly. What are your next orders, sir?”
Geshu Lin stopped in his tracks, his sharp gaze surveying the area before finally resting on the ranger who had spoken. His shadow loomed over them, casting a cold and imposing aura.
“We will seize this opportunity to strike them while their numbers are diminished,” he said, his voice as steady as it was commanding. “Prepare everyone within fifteen minutes.”
Your heart dropped at his words. The idea of going back into battle so soon, after barely having the chance to rest, sent a wave of dread crashing through you. As if reading your thoughts, another ranger dared to voice the concern on everyone’s minds.
“But, sir, many of us are still recovering. We’ve barely had a moment to rest.”
Geshu Lin’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with a cold edge that silenced any further complaints. His gaze cut through the ranger who had spoken as he replied, “If you value Jinzhou and your families, you will not question my commands. The enemy will not wait for us to recover. We must stand tall against all threats, no matter the cost.”
A few of the rangers straightened, their fear replaced by a grim sense of duty.
“Yes, sir!” they answered in unison.
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle heavily in your chest. The call to battle had always been relentless, but with Geshu Lin leading, there was no room for hesitation. His resolve was as unwavering as the cold steel of his broad blade.
You and the other rearguard rangers sprang into action, accelerating your efforts to heal the wounded with a newfound urgency. Every second mattered now. The faster you worked, the sooner the vanguard rangers could press forward under General Geshu Lin’s command.
In no time, the vanguard rangers stood in formation behind the general, their faces set with grim determination. You watched from the side, heart heavy with unspoken prayers for their safety as they marched deeper into the Norfall Barrens. The barren wasteland seemed to swallow them whole, a black abyss that held nothing but danger. You could only hope that every single one of them would return.
As the vanguard disappeared from sight, you hurried back to your tent, located in a safe zone at the edge of the barrens. This area had been reclaimed just days ago, a hard-fought victory led by General Geshu Lin and the Midnight Rangers against a seemingly endless army of Tacet Discords. You prepared yourself for the inevitable—more wounded would be coming soon.
Minutes later, the first wave of injured rangers arrived at your tent. Bloodied and bruised, they stumbled in, collapsing onto the makeshift beds. You didn’t hesitate. With your Resonance abilities, you quickly got to work, healing torn flesh, mending broken bones, and soothing the aches that came from battle. But as you worked, you overheard bits of conversation from the injured, and your heart sank.
“They ambushed us,” one soldier muttered weakly, his voice trembling. “Came from every direction the moment we entered the deeper territory…”
“They were waiting for us,” another added, his eyes wide with fear. “We didn’t stand a chance.”
But what struck you most was the mention of Geshu Lin. The soldiers spoke of him with awe and… resentment. They recounted how he had single-handedly cut through half of the Tacet Discords in a single swing of his broadblade. His power was unparalleled, but he kept rushing forward. He did not glance at his soldiers as he advanced ruthlessly. Tears fell from the eyes of some as they recalled comrades who had fallen, struck down before they could even raise their weapons in defense.
Your hands moved faster, desperate to heal them all, to keep them alive so they wouldn’t be added to the growing list of casualties. Exhaustion began to claw at you, each burst of healing taking a little more out of you. Your arms felt heavy, and your vision blurred, but you couldn’t stop. No. Not yet. You mustn’t faint when everyone is relying on you.
The last ranger staggered out of your tent, his wounds healed, and you slumped against the side of the cot. Just as you were about to call for backup, your Terminal beeped. A message flashed across the screen: Mission success. We’ve reclaimed a large territory in Norfall Barrens. Casualties are heavy, but we’re retreating.
Relief washed over you, but it was bittersweet. The message confirmed their victory, but also hinted at the price they had paid. You knew you couldn’t relax just yet. There would be more wounded on their way back, and likely more stories of loss.
The relief of victory quickly vanished as you saw the true cost of the battle. As the soldiers returned to the base at Desorock Highland, their weary, hollow expressions told the story of a pyrrhic triumph. There were no celebrations, no cheers of success—only the quiet murmur of soldiers, weighed down by exhaustion and loss.
You moved quickly through the base, checking on the survivors as they trudged back from the battlefield. But as you passed by groups of rangers, you couldn’t help but overhear the low voices filled with bitterness.
“It’s the general, you know...”
“Yeah, he just charged forward, slaying monsters like nothing, but he didn’t even glance at us. We were left to deal with the Tacet Discords coming from all sides.”
“I don’t care what anyone else thinks. He’s the reason we lost so many this time.”
You swallowed hard, the murmurs sinking into your bones. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard whispers like this about Geshu Lin. His reputation was as cold as the steel of his broadblade. A ruthless leader, famed for his unmatched power on the battlefield, but infamous for his lack of concern for his comrades. Many admired his strength, but few respected the way he wielded it—without mercy, without hesitation, even if it meant his soldiers paid the ultimate price.
No one dared to voice these complaints openly, though. Despite the casualties, despite his seemingly callous leadership, General Geshu Lin was the strongest Resonator in the Midnight Rangers. He alone had faced and obliterated the Tacet Fields and Overlord Discords that would have otherwise wiped out entire battalions. His power was undeniable, and the Rangers needed him—even if it meant enduring his relentless, unyielding command.
That’s when you heard your name called sharply, breaking through your thoughts. You turned to see a familiar figure approaching—Changmin, a seasoned rearguard ranger. He was easily twenty years your senior, his graying hair and weathered face telling the story of decades spent in the field.
“The general is injured. I need you to heal him pronto,” Changmin said urgently as soon as you reached him.
Your heart skipped a beat at the request.
“General Geshu Lin?” you asked, and then you realized how dumb you might sound.
Changmin confirmed with a firm nod. “I saw it myself. A deep cut on his left arm. But, as usual, he’s refusing treatment.”
Standing beside Changmin, another senior ranger chimed in with a sigh, “He insists he’s fine. Says he doesn’t need any assistance. It might be hard for her to heal him without his consent.”
Changmin's brow furrowed deeply, frustration was evident in the creases of his weathered face. “He always refuses help. But have you seen the wound? If it isn’t treated properly, it’ll just add to the many scars he already has.”
The other ranger let out a weary sigh before looking at you. “Just do your best to convince him. If he still refuses… well, maybe he prefers handling his injuries alone.”
You nodded, feeling a growing unease in the pit of your stomach. The thought of approaching Geshu Lin, someone who exuded both power and distance, was daunting. You imagined him yelling at you the moment you stepped foot in his tent.
As you made your way toward Geshu Lin's command tent, the soldiers gave you wary looks, likely surprised to see you headed in that direction. It wasn’t often that anyone approached the general for anything outside of official orders.
When you arrived at the entrance, you hesitated for a brief moment, gathering your resolve. Then, with a steadying breath, you stepped inside.
The tent was sparsely lit, the faint glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the room. And there, seated at a makeshift desk, was Geshu Lin himself. His back was to you, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his left arm hung stiffly by his side, the bloodied bandages around it doing little to hide the extent of the damage.
“General,” you called softly, your voice barely breaking the silence.
He turned slightly, his amber eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of his gaze, sharp and assessing, as though he could see straight through you.
“I was told you’re injured,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Please allow me to help you.”
“Go back to your station,” he replied coldly, turning back to his desk.
You threw a short glance at the bloodied bandage on his arm and said, “Respectfully sir, I can heal your wound almost instantly. It will take only thirty seconds.”
In his deep voice, the general replied, “Do not waste your medical equipment on me. I can do it myself.”
“I am a Resonator with healing Glacio abilities, sir,” you informed him. “I can heal you without any tools. It will only take seconds.”
He fell silent and for a moment, you thought he would refuse again. Then, to your surprise, he turned to face you fully. His eyes scrutinized you as if trying to gauge the degree of your determination. His gaze was intimidating, an invisible force that made you feel vulnerable under his scrutiny.
He spoke, “I don’t see a Tacet Mark on you.”
You got shy right away. Oh, so he was looking for my Tacet Mark.
With your eyes looking to the side, you answered with a pale blush, “I have one, but it’s just hidden under this uniform.”
“Your abilities can be better used on anyone else,” the general said dismissively, either ignoring your sudden bashfulness or not noticing it.
Feeling fed up by his stubbornness, you retorted, “Please, general. I insist.”
Then, there was a long moment of silence as he narrowed his eyes at you. The silence made you realize how rude you might sound. Uh oh, was I being forceful? Did I sound disobedient to him?
His eyes were like orbs of glacial fire, unyielding and fierce. With every passing second, your heart pounded against your chest. You couldn’t hear anything, not even the hustle and bustle outside of this camp, except for your own heartbeats.
“Fine,” Geshu Lin suddenly spoke up. “You have one minute.”
The relief washed over you like a wave, followed instantly by nervousness. Healing the general was not a small task, but doing so under his watchful gaze? That was a whole new level of pressure.
You moved swiftly, standing by his side, and began to inspect the wound. As you peeled back the bandages, you saw the deep gash—far worse than he had let on. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath to compose yourself and then began. Time seemed to still around you as you focused all your energy on the task at hand.
Summoning your Resonance ability, you felt the characteristic Glacio coldness spreading through your veins, reaching your fingertips and palm. You placed your palm on that large gash. A pale blue glow enveloping your hands illuminated the night air around you.
You observed as your Resonance skill utilized Glacio properties to heal the gash. The general would have surely felt the intense cold, but he remained stoic, his attention solely on your healing abilities.
The wound slowly began to close; the torn flesh seemingly stitching itself back together under the icy, healing touch of your hand. It was a spectacle that would have induced gasps from the onlookers, had there been any. But at that moment, it was just you and the general.
Suddenly, you felt a twinge of pain zip through your head. You barely winced, trying to withstand the pain so as not to alert the general. It was a side effect of intensive healing you had been doing that day - a reminder of the power you were wielding and the toll it took on your body.
“Enough,” Geshu Lin commanded out of the blue. Apparently, your wince did not go unnoticed.
He withdrew his arm away from your hold. You noticed the bright glow of your Glacio connecting from your palm to the gash on his arm, and you saw it stretched to nothingness as the general pulled away more and more.
You looked directly into his eyes, and in this close proximity, it looked as if you were scowling at him. You persisted with a tiny firm tone in your voice, “I am fine, general.”
You paused to grab hold of his arm and pulled it back to the previous spot where you could see it clearly between you two. You said, “It’s about to finish, so please do not move.”
The general’s brows furrowed in anger and you quickly averted your gaze to the gash. The Glacio properties were glowing and reconnecting your palm to the wound. It resumed its healing progress steadily.
Meanwhile, you began to feel intense warmth under the general’s intense glare. You could sense his burning stare. You could feel it burning a hole through your skull. Apparently, he was unamused by how forceful you were.
You couldn’t help but feel a wave of fear under his icy cold glare.
“Insolent,” you heard him murmur, but he made no move to withdraw his arm.
In your mind, you thanked the Sentinels above that he did not yell at you and kick you out of his tent. With that, you focused back on your Resonance skill.
In the dimly lit tent belonged to the general, the two of you were standing there closely with him leaning slightly on the makeshift table. He held his arm in the air between the both of you, and you had one hand holding his arm steady from below and another hand hovering over his wound, connecting your healing Glacio properties to his injury. You two were so close to each other, yet you both only focused on the healing process.
You channeled the last rush of your Resonance skill toward the wound. The flesh knit together faster under your touch, and within moments all that was left was a pale line where the deep gash had once been. The glow subsided around your hands, and you took a step back, pulling back both of your hands.
The general raised his arm close to his eyes, scrutinizing the healed injury. You clarified, “It is done. The pale line will fade away in a few hours, sir.”
Geshu Lin remained silent, his gaze still focused on his healed arm. A range of emotions flickered in his eyes, but not one of them was decipherable. It was as if you were looking at a painting crafted by a masterful artist who wove shades of emotions on a canvas too complex to discern.
The silence stretched on as Geshu Lin examined his arm. You stood there, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, unsure whether you should say something or simply leave. The tent felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken tension. For a moment, you wondered if he would dismiss you without a word, if all your effort to heal him would pass unacknowledged.
Finally, Geshu Lin lowered his arm, his sharp amber eyes locking onto yours once more. The intensity in his gaze hadn't lessened, and it dawned on you that perhaps you had overstepped by being persistent like a fly and grabbing his arm as if they were friends. You internally cringed.
“You’re persistent,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of an unspoken challenge.
Your pulse quickened, but you met his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster. “I am here to do my duty, general. Whether it's healing you or the soldiers, I won’t back down from what’s necessary.”
For a brief moment, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch—almost a smile, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. Geshu Lin stepped away from the table, rolling his newly healed arm with a precision that spoke to the countless battles he'd endured.
“You’re bold,” he added, this time with a hint of something like approval in his tone. “Most wouldn’t dare speak to me the way you just did.”
You gulped down nervously. It had occurred to you once again that your persistence, bordering on defiance, might have come across as insubordination. Your heart raced again. You half-expected him to file a harsh complaint about you to a senior rearguard member of Midnight Rangers.
“If I overstepped…” you began, but he raised a hand, silencing you.
“You did what needed to be done. That’s more than I can say for most.”
He turned his back to you, his long white hair flowed briefly with his movement. For a moment, you thought he was dismissing you non-verbally. But then you noticed him turn his head to the side, indicating that he still wanted to address you.
“You fought me today,” he said, not looking back. “But don’t make a habit of it.”
There was no malice in his words, but the warning was clear. He would tolerate your defiance this time, perhaps even respect it. But that respect was something you’d have to navigate carefully.
“Yes, sir,” you replied softly, feeling utterly relieved.
The general turned his head to the front and said, “You are dismissed.”
With that, you bowed your head, turned and left. The rush of the past few moments finally caught up to you, and your knees almost wobbled as you rushed back into your tent. You zipped the tent fully closed and sat down, catching your breath, the weight of the interaction settling on your shoulders.
The general was unlike anyone you had ever encountered. His power, his cold demeanor, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the entire world on his back—it was overwhelming. You could understand why no one dared to lash out at him about his ruthless behavior on the battlefield. He was ruthless to the enemies and, according to the soldiers, also ruthless and uncaring to his allies if he felt they were too slow. And yet, he was okay with you. You had definitely overstepped your boundaries, but he disregarded it. Why?
As you sat there, catching your breath, a thought began to form in your mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason behind Geshu Lin’s relentless nature—something that drove him to push others and himself beyond their limits.
But for now, you allowed yourself a moment of rest. Perhaps you were just lucky to escape his wrath unscathed. And hopefully, that would be your last interaction with him. You hoped so. You couldn’t deal with this kind of stress and nervousness again in your life. No way. That fear of overstepping your boundaries to a general was too much for you. All you wanted was to heal everyone.
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serverusslaype · 7 months ago
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Shameless, pt. 15
Severus Snape x professor!reader fic
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Shameless Masterpost
hey guys.................. dont kill me. i'm so sorry for the incredibly lengthy hiatus.... i had no motivation, each time i opened the file to type i'd type a couple words, maybe a paragraph and close it. i finally found the motivation to finish this chapter recently, i'm hoping it stays. it's been a rough couple months, so hoping this can help me feel a bit better!!
i felt really guilty for sort of abandoning the fic where it was, but i couldn't force myself to write anything, there was no creative juice, i think i sort of burnt myself out. and for the previous posts saying i was back, i thought i was, but i'd have the smallest spark of inspiration and try to write, but then nothing happened, and i felt bad so i didn't want to say something like, sorry, i lied. :(
hopefully this chapter is okay, i know most of you won't like it, but i'm so glad i finally finished it, it was one of the hardest to write because i had so many ideas on how it'd end and effect the whole story itself, so i had to make sure it made sense.
i can't believe you guys are still here after so long, it made me emotional to see all of your asks and comments and likes, i was just floored to be honest, so thank you so much for your unwavering support. i love you all so so much. honestly. holy shit. this has been a journey. <3 i hope you guys are all doing brilliantly.
warnings: lack of snape, swearing, mentions of adultery, slight domestic violence, verbal abuse at the end
You didn't know where to go. You felt... lost. You couldn't exactly go back to your quarters, not with Ben there, you didn't need more questions about why you were crying your eyes out at this time of night. It's not like you could tell him the truth.
So, you did what anyone would: go for a midnight walk. Well, at least that's what you thought anyone would do when they had nowhere to go. You'd hoped that the fresh, cold air would soothe your burning lungs, and the gentle breeze would dry your teary eyes. In an even deeper, darker part of your mind, you also hoped that Black would find you. Perhaps that would make everything... easier.
With tears still streaming freely from your eyes and heavy feet, you padded towards the large, magnificent doors that led to the outside with your arms wrapped around your body tightly; trying your best not to breakdown until you were alone. Your hands were still shaking as you pushed them against the doors, opening it a tad as the cool wind blew through the crack and into your face. You gasped a little at the sharp breeze, but nonetheless you slipped out, and made your way into the courtyard. The temperature was a little more biting than you had anticipated, and so you squeezed your arms around yourself a little tighter, walking towards the infamous wooden, crooked bridge.
As you sauntered through the courtyard, the only noises you heard were the owls hooting in the distance, the gentle breeze brushing through the burnt-amber leaved trees and the faint clack of your heels against the cobblestoned ground. In all honesty, it did feel a little eerie to the say the least, but at this very moment that was the least of your worries. All you wanted was a little time alone to cry, or grieve what could have been with ...Severus.
Gods, it hurt to even think his name, let alone speak it.
You reached the wooden bridge, and you stopped in the middle of it; leaning against the intricately carved columns to gaze out at the highlands. The moonlight casted a gorgeous glaze-like reflection upon the Black Lake, and it twinkled beautifully, almost hypnotising you like an illusion. Your eyes flicked up to the moon and glanced around it, staring at the glittering stars surrounding it like a perfect painting. Only times like this did you miss teaching Astronomy. As your mind reeled back to your first year teaching at Hogwarts, you relished in the time where you did not know the man named Severus Snape, and suddenly your heart sank in your chest like an anchor dropped at sea. You were so naive back then, unknowing of what was to come.
As the memories of you and Severus flooded your mind like a dam breaking, you let yourself cry. You could still feel his lips on yours, his fingertips gently tracing the curves and grooves of your skin, the words he'd whispered into your ear - it was all there, stained on your skin, like a tattoo - or perhaps a branding. And now you had to live with it. You weren't sure if you'd survive this time, especially not with how deeply you felt for him. You were torn between pretending he didn't exist and trying to talk to him, perhaps even telling him how you felt, but truth be told you were petrified of how he'd react. Would he even look at you again with those glittering black eyes you'd come to adore so hopelessly? Would he dare speak to you again, knowing that he'd charmed you? Maybe he'd relish in the fact that he'd done so, take pride in bewitching you, and make you hurt for it. You knew Snape could be rather cruel, your school days here with him as your teacher was enough for you to know that.
All these unanswered questions swam through your head and you felt yourself becoming suffocated from them, and it suddenly felt as if your lungs had filled with water, drowning you. You sobbed helplessly as you slid down the wooden wall behind you with your hands against your face, the rough edges scratching your back through your clothes rather uncomfortably.
"Y/N?" A voice came from beside you, and you froze. You turned your head away from them and quickly used your sleeve to wipe your eyes, drying the tears that had fallen from them. Only one person has a voice as soft as the one you had just heard.
You gave yourself a moment to gather yourself before even attempting to use your voice.
"Hello, Remus." You croaked quietly, sniffling.
"What on Earth are you doing out here so late?" He questioned gently, and you heard him take a step towards you. "Are you alright?"
"Quite dandy," you sarcastically quipped, sighing deeply, "I'm brilliant..." You turned your head to face him, and immediately, his face softened at the sight of your own. You were sat up against the side of the bridge, knees up against your chest and your arms wrapped around them; nose and eyes red, wet with tears. Remus quickly dropped down to his knees beside you, placing a soothing hand upon your forearm.
"What happened?" Remus asked, careful to keep his voice quiet and soft. With empty eyes, you stared into his worried ones, and instantly you felt terrible. The last thing you wanted was people worrying over you.
You looked away, down at the ground. "I..." you mumbled, sighing, "it's a... long... story." You spoke slowly. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small smile quirk up on Remus's lips.
"I've got time, my dear." He replied as his thumb brushed your forearm, silently encouraging you to talk. You felt at ease in Remus's presence, it was almost like he had a calm aura around him, and naturally your body relaxed beside his. You took a deep breath.
"Erm," you choked, sniffling again, "it's Se... Snape." You couldn't bring yourself to say his first name without crumbling into a million pieces.
Remus let out a gentle breath. "Snape, of course," He tutted, glancing between you and the ground. "What's he done?" The fact that Remus reacted like he had expected Snape to have hurt you, further broke your heart. Were you the only one to have seen through his icy exterior?
"Broken my heart," You laughed dryly, and you had to fight back another bout of tears. Remus's brows furrowed in confusion at you. "We... I... Look, I'm not sure how to explain this to you. But... I fell..." You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. Your heart hurt too much. You only hoped that Remus knew what you were about to say.
Remus blinked and stared at you, shocked. Clearly, the two of you had hidden your 'relationship' well - so well that everyone was oblivious to it. "You fell...?" He frowned.
"In love... with him..." You almost whispered, avoiding Remus's eyes. You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle the look in them.
"You're in love with... Severus?" Remus repeated, and you squeezed your eyes shut at his words. They were like daggers, stabbing your bleeding heart. It was almost like you could feel it trembling inside of your chest, begging you to free it from this cycle of torment. "But... Aren't you with... Ben? And... Severus... he's..."
"I know," you sighed, noticing his confusion, "I had feelings for Severus before I met Ben. And it sort of just, like, spiralled out of control, and now, erm, here I am- Gods, I should have just listened to Minerva, I wouldn't be here right now, hurting like this." You ranted, another strangled sob leaving your throat. Remus watched you, and his eyes softened. He felt terrible for you. "She warned me, Remus, why didn't I just listen to her?!" You cried, letting your head fall into your hands.
"Y/N," Remus whispered, reaching out a cautious hand to pry your face from your hands. With a soft gasp, you looked up with teary eyes, and he wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "We don't get to choose who we do and don't fall in love with. We follow our hearts blindly, most of the time, unknowingly." He said, and moved his hand from your wet cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "It's beyond our control who we love."
There was a moment of silence.
"...What do I do, Remus?" You sobbed softly, sniffling, looking at your knees.
"Have you told him?"
"No."
"I think you should."
"But what about Ben? Shouldn't I... deal with... that first?" You sniffled again. "And what if Severus doesn't feel the same way about me? Then what?"
Remus paused for a moment, thinking. You looked up at him. "What if he does?" He said, a small, comforting smile tickling his lips as he stared at you.
"Well- from the way he treated me earlier... I truly doubt it, Remus." You scoffed, glancing away from his pitying brown eyes.
Remus sighed, and you clenched your jaw. "Regret is a terrible thing, Y/N," he said, "it's such a short word, yet it stretches on forever." Your eyes were glued on the ground and your body was still, but your mind was running a million miles an hour.
You sat there in silence for a short moment, thinking deeply. Remus was right. You'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't tell Severus how you felt. That chance of him reciprocating your feelings was small, but it was still there. If he didn't feel the same, fine, you'd move on. Eventually. And if he did?...
"...Alright," You nodded sheepishly. "I'll tell him. I just... need to, erm, work out when and more specifically, how. Like, do I just straight up blurt it out? Work my way up to it? H-how do you know it's the right time?" You rambled with tears still falling from your eyes, glancing through them at Remus who sat beside you with a soft expression upon his features.
"You'll know." Was all he said before slowly standing and holding out a hand for you to take. Graciously, you took it, and Remus pulled you to your feet. "Feel better?" He hummed, casting a glance out at the moon, then a worried look suddenly struck his eyes. You noticed and frowned slightly at his behaviour.
The moon?
"A little." You forced a smile upon your lips, and lifted up a hand to wipe the remaining stray tears upon your red cheeks. Remus looked back at you, and returned your smile. "How come you were out so late?" You asked curiously, brushing off his odd reaction to seeing a moon.
"A walk in the night does me good," Remus shrugged, and began to walk back towards the castle with you beside him. "Clears my head."
"Ah, well, I suppose I'm glad you found me, then." You chuckled awkwardly, folding your arms against your chest.
Remus smiled at you and placed an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. "Let's get you back to your quarters, Y/N, you look like an ice block." He hummed and lead you back to the castle, but not before throwing another glance over his shoulder to the almost-full-moon.
Faint, footsteps trailed down an empty corridor, and a billowing black cape followed with it. As Severus marched, his chest felt horribly heavy, almost like there was a boulder chained to it, weighing him down. He couldn't figure out why he felt like this, and it was starting to make him a little irate. He knew it was something to do with you since it had started after you'd stormed out of his office.
As Severus was about to round a corner, the sound of familiar, sweet laughter rattled through his bones, and immediately he froze. Without a doubt, he knew it was you. Only you could have laughter that sounded like the sweet songs that birds chirped in the summer mornings. The breath in his lungs suddenly vanished and he quickly swooped himself behind a bookcase, poking his head out from the side of it to see who you were with.
The moment you appeared, that boulder chained to his chest became heavier, and he felt himself lean against the bookcase he hid behind. Severus's eyes widened as they glued themselves to the man beside you - Remus Lupin. His blood boiled at the sight.
What could have Lupin have said to make you laugh like that? He'd only heard you laugh like that when you were with him, not Lupin.
From a distance, he couldn't make out what the two of you were talking about, but it was obviously hilarious. Severus's jaw clenched as he watched Lupin place a hand upon the small of your back, guiding you.
Guiding you... inside your quarters?
Snape hissed silently to himself as he stared, his sharp and hardened eyes welded to the back of Lupin's head like molten metal. As your door shut, Snape could only huff in disgust with bared teeth. What were the two of you doing in there? It was past midnight and you and Lupin seemed happy as Larry to go into your quarters. Snape couldn't bear the idea of you and Lupin alone together - let alone the fact that Lupin had had his damned, grubby paws on you. Severus clenched his jaw in a violent fashion, very clearly upset at how you'd moved on so quickly, especially with another professor at Hogwarts. Was this your thing? Bewitch every lonely professor that you laid your wretched eyes upon and then move onto the next? Did it make you feel better about yourself in some fucked up way?
An uneasy, bitter feeling twisted inside of his chest as he pictured the two of you alone and he whipped around out of spite; the swoosh of his long, black cloak filling the silent hallway. How could you move on so quickly, so... easily? 
"Never did I think I'd see the day that someone told me they fell in love with a man like Severus Snape." Remus laughed softly as he waddled to your sofa, glancing at you as if to ask if it was alright to sit. You nodded at him.
"And yet here we are." You hummed with a flat mouth, clearly not as amused as your friend was. "Sometimes I wish I was as emotionally guarded as he was, but then I remember how bloody miserable that would be." You mumbled, earning an abrupt laugh from Lupin who'd settled on the couch with a soft sigh.
Ben was nowhere to be seen, so you assumed he was asleep in the bedroom.
"Severus is an interesting character, most definitely," Lupin nodded and you turned around, walking towards him to join him on the sofa. "And I applaud you for being able to tame him. If it's any consolation, only one other woman had been able to, though I think it was... unintentional, if you will."
"Unintentional?" You questioned, your tone curious. Though almost instantly, that curiosity was killed as the thought of Severus with another woman stabbed at your fragile heart. "Actually, I'm not sure if I want to hear this right now." A dry laugh slipped from your lips and you exhaled sharply as another wave of tears prickled at your waterline.
"Alright." Lupin said softly, taking notice of your quivering voice. He stood up with a breathy groan and shuffled towards you, slinking an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. It was calming, and the way he hugged you reminded you of all the times your parents would comfort you as a child. As Lupin gave you a supportive squeeze, it was as if he'd accidently pushed the button for the waterworks - hot tears began to stream down your cheeks once again, and you sobbed quietly into his wrinkled shirt.
"Hey," Lupin sighed as he watched your shoulders shake with sorrow. His hand sat on the top of your arm, squeezing it gently: a dire attempt at consoling you. "Don't cry, Y/N, it'll pass."
"Idon'twantitto-" You mumbled into his shirt, sniffling loudly. Lupin's brows furrowed together in confusion as he paused for a brief moment, silently trying to decipher what you'd just said.
"What?" He asked gently, leaning his head down so he could hear you a little better. You lifted your head from him, sighing, another heartbreaking sniffle sneaking out of your reddened nose.
"I don't want it to." You repeated yourself, lifting a hand up to wipe your wet eyes lazily.
"I know. But it will." Lupin sighed too. "Severus is... a very... damaged man," He cringed slightly at his choice of words, but he continued, "I'm not even sure that you could help him- or fix him."
At this point, you were staring soullessly at the floor, and the only thing you could feel was Lupin's chest against your shoulders. Were you and Severus really a lost case? You felt like you'd made so much progress, he'd opened up to you, he'd... he also ran away again. Perhaps your friend Remus is right.
"I think I want to be alone." You suddenly blurted out, slowly glancing up at the professor with glossy, red eyes. Lupin blinked at you, confused for a moment, though he quickly came to. He didn't blame you for saying such a thing - you'd just had your heart ripped out, to put it simply.
Remus didn't say anything, he only nodded, offering you a kind, yet pitiful smile - and that hurt you slightly. You didn't want his pity, in fact, you didn't want anyone's pity. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." He muttered, brushing a hand through your hair softly. You shut your eyes for a moment and sighed, a small gush of guilt filling your body. Here Lupin was, trying to console you, and you're kicking him out. You hoped he didn't take it personally.
"I'm sorry, I... I just need to be alone." You quickly offered. Remus shook his head and frowned at you.
"No, I understand. See you in the morning, Y/N. Feel better soon." The professor smiled at you and this time it wasn't rich with pity, but kindness. He tipped his head at you and began to shuffle his way towards the door, opening it with a quiet creak from the oak. Before he disappeared out of your chambers, Remus turned around and smiled at you once more, slipping away.
Seconds after the door shut, a drowsy-looking Ben opened your bedroom door, popping his head out. He squinted at the bright light, clearly having just woken up. That settled your nerves slightly, since you'd just spoken about Severus with Remus, only a few metres away from Ben.
"Are you crying?" Ben yawned, his bushy brows furrowed in either confusion or annoyance - at this point you couldn't tell.
"No," You coughed and turned around to pretend to do something else as you wiped at your eyes. "I'm fine, go back to bed, Ben." A curt sigh fell from your lips, and almost immediately you heard footsteps padding closer to you. "I'm fine." You repeated, listening as his feet stopped behind you.
"What happened?" Ben asked, the tiniest hint of sympathy in his voice made you shiver slightly.
"Nothing, it was just a rough day at work, honestly. I'd rather not talk about it." Your brows shot together as you tried to keep the tears at bay, but you couldn't help but think about Severus as Ben placed a hand on your waist in an attempt to pry you away from the countertop and towards him. You didn't want anyone else's hands on you but his.
"Hey," Ben said softly, though it felt heavy in your chest. "It's work. It won't matter in a day or two." You were silent. "Y/N?"
"I need a drink." You muttered and forced yourself to look at Ben, cringing slightly as you walked past him and towards a glossy wooden cabinet in the corner of your chambers. You rarely drank, and if you did, it was to either celebrate something, or forget something.
Another uncomfortable silence fell on top of the pair of you.
"Want one?" You asked with no emotion in your voice.
Ben hesitated for a moment, his groggy eyes staring at the back of your figure, silently trying to deduce you. "...Sure."
You were going to regret this.
You'd changed into comfier clothes, more specifically a pair of forest green silk shorts and a matching camisole top. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you faced Ben as he was sat on the windowsill opposite you, nursing his glass of wine. After a few strong sips, the pair of you were chatting and reminiscing like old pals. "Remember that time when I turned Peter Kipling into a weasel in McGonagall's class?" Ben giggled drunkenly, elbowing you gently as you nodded with tears in your eyes, an amused grin spread across your face.
"Oh my- I forgot about that!" You wheezed, smacking your lips together. "Didn't you get... like... at least- like a month's detention for that?" You laughed, slurring, taking another sip of your glass of Elven wine. You winced slightly at the strong aftertaste as it burned your throat. That was to be your last drink, you couldn't take much more.
"Ohh, yeah, I d-id," Ben hiccuped, his laughter dying out as he sighed; his tired eyes falling onto you. Shuffling under his gaze, you felt slightly uncomfortable. A brief yet thick silence suddenly engulfed the two of you like a slow-burning fire. Ben stood from where he'd been sat, stumbling over to where you were, stopping just in front of your knees.
"I miss talkin' to you, Y/N." He sighed, taking his hand and placing it upon your cheek; carressing the apple of it with his rough thumb. The strong scent of alcohol on his breath made you gag a tad - you were drunk as well, but the smell of it wasn't pleasant, especially from his mouth.
Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact.
"..Yeah." You answered quietly albeit awkwardly as you stared up at Ben. Though, all the wine you'd consumed was making him look like someone... else - the darkness wasn't helping either, in fact it was fueling your hallucinations. The dark cast of a shadow from the lit candles behind him made his nose appear larger, and his cheekbones a little more pronounced.
Slowly, he crouched down until you two were eye-level, his hands slipping to your ankles. Your body stiffened slightly at the feeling. "Ben.." You warned, sighing as the drunk buzz and pleasurable tingle from the pads of his fingers was starting to cloud your mind.
"Whaat?" He whispered, heavy-lidded eyes still glued to yours as his fingers began to trail up your calves. Ben began to stand up slightly, pushing his face dangerously close to yours, and so you leant backwards to avoid him, your back gradually making contact with the bed. He shuffled forwards slightly, pressing a knee against the edge of the bed to balance himself.
You shouldn't be doing this, you knew that, but Gods, the alcohol was truly fucking with your morals and mind.
Would it hurt?
Just a little... taste...?
You shut your eyes as you became lost in the feeling; his fingers reaching the backs of your soft thighs, a breathy sigh falling from your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes again as Ben's smalelr nose pressed into your neck, followed by his wet lips. You gasped as his hands found your torso, his fingers pressing a little too harshly into your flesh. 
Severus.
Memories of him suddenly flooded your mind like a reservoir breaking a dam, flushing out anything that didn't embody him. All the times Severus had attacked your supple flesh beautifully; pulling gorgeous moans from those pink lips of yours. Your brows furrowed together as your body silently yearned for his touch. It hurt.
You were stuck between stopping this and just shamelessly indulging in the dark, twisted fantasy of pretending that Ben was Severus. You were being so selfish. And yet, you didn't care, all of the emotional turmoil that you'd been through tonight was pushing you to the edge - all you wanted was the man who didn't love you, who only saw you as a quick fuck, maybe some midnight company. 
You shut your eyes again and tried your best to imagine him. With a sigh, you ran your hand up Ben's neck and into his hair, though it wasn't the same. You missed the way you'd tangle your fingers in his raven-black locks, gripping on it as he'd ravish your neck and breasts like some mad professional. Sighing frustratedly, you moved your hands down to his shoulders, expecting the rough, black fabric of Severus's robes, and yet you were met with the flimsy, thin fabric of Ben's white cotton t-shirt.
You felt so fucking pathetic.
Knock, knock.
You froze, eyes snapping open as quick as lightning. Was there someone at the door?
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Ben groaned drunkenly as he continued to kiss your neck. Unfortunately for him, the feeling had worn off the second you heard those knocks.
"The knocks at the door."
"You're.. imag-ining things, baby." Ben sighed and hiccuped once more, his uncomfortably hot breath on your neck made you shiver. At this point, Ben was much more drunk than you, and so with your remaining energy, you rolled him off of you. "Whoa- heey-!" He groaned as you slipped from underneath him, padding to the door. You didn't bother to check if he was alright, the only thing on your mind was who was at your door at this time of night.
Was it him? Did you want it to be him?
Reluctantly, you reached out your hand to open the door.
Nobody was there.
You frowned and leaned forwards, poking your head out to glance around. The corridor was empty, completely empty. That was incredibly weird, did you imagine those knocks? You sighed softly - perhaps you were a little disapppointed. Turning around, you shut the door, only to be faced with Ben sat sloppily in a chair with a face like thunder.
"Waitin' for someone?" He asked with a flat tone, his head lazily cocked to one side, still clearly drunk.
"What?"
"You know what I'm talkin' abou', Y/N." Ben said with the same tone, standing up, albeit unsteadily. You swallowed as he inched closer towards you, dragging his feet, your toes burying themselves against the hard wooden floor beneath your feet. "I know about the notes you kept. From him." He spat, pointing his finger at your face. Your heart instantly began to gallop; the pounding of its beats echoed in your ears like a harrowing scream in the night.
The notes...
"Excuse me?" You choked out, brows furrowing together in complete shock.
This was not how you wanted this to go down.
"I went through yer little drawers. In yer greenhouse," Ben scowled, his nose turning upwards in what you could only describe as disgust. "All of his little notes were perfectly preserved, and mine? Well-" Your mind was running so quickly that you could barely even listen to what he was saying - the fact that he went behind your back and invaded your privacy was the only thing sticking out to you as of right now. Your skin felt like it was on fire as the anger began to flood your veins.
"You went through my drawers, Ben?!" You yelled, shoving a finger in his face.
"That's the only thing you care abou'?! Not the fact that you secretly- obviously, have some sort of fucked up... thing for a man who treats people like they're the tiniest bit of shit on 'is shoe?!" Ben screamed back drunkenly as he bared his teeth, stomping towards you and smacking your finger away. "The fuck is wrong withya?"
You knew this could get ugly quite quickly, especially as Ben was drunk - a lot drunker than you. But at this moment, your anger was far too hot to even think about cooling things down.
You scoffed at him, your lips twitching upwards into a disgusted sneer. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Going through my stuff?!" You shouted at him, taking a step backwards as he began to get a little too close for comfort. "That's not okay, Ben!"
"How long has it been going on?" Ben asked, his tone suddenly calm. That put you on edge.
You paused for a moment, pondering on his question. It was probably best that you didn't answer that. "We're done here, Ben." You clenched your jaw, silently readying yourself for some sort of explosion.
"How long, Y/N?!" Ben yelled. The way the whites of his eyes were basically screaming at you made you feel terrified. In this current moment, there was only one pair of arms that you wish you were being held in. The man in front of you backed you up to the door, and you could only stare at him, for your wand was foolishly placed inside the pockets of your robes hung in your bedroom. Tears burned in your eyes as the guilt you'd tucked away was finally waking up and holding your body hostage with it's incredibly heavy weight. "Did you fuck 'im? Is that why ya never slept wit'me for months? Because you were too ...busy being his fucktoy?" Ben slurred, his face red and lips wet with saliva from how he'd been shouting.
"Shut up!" You cried at Ben as the tears began to break free from you and run down your cheeks like melting diamonds. This was so not the way you wanted this to go. "Please, just stop!" You were sobbing at this point as his words pierced your heart, quickly reminding you of what Severus truly thought of you.
"Oh, fuck sake, stop with the cryin'," Ben growled, drunkenly shoving a hand into your shoulder, sending you barreling backwards and into the door. You winced slightly as the bone of your shoulder blade made contact with the metal bar on your door. "Whiny bitch, yer the one in the wrong, not me!" He grumbled with a heavy sigh, turning away from you.
"Shit, Ben-" You gasped as you leaned forwards and pushed yourself off of the door, however, a sharp and excruciating pain shot across your shoulder as you tried to move it. "What the hell were you thinking?!" You whined, stumbling to the countertops of your kitchenette to lean on it. Your shoulder was fucking killing you.
"Me? What was I fuckin' thinkin'?!" A sarcastic, manic laugh fell from his lips and immediately you regretted your choice of words. The man spun on his heel, and suddenly he donned a wand in his hand. Now, you were scared for your life. "You're one to talk... you know what... I'm going to have you fired... yeah... blacklisted. From every job in this fuckin' area! That'll teach you to be a whore!" Ben screamed the last word so loudly that you were sure every sleeping student and teacher heard it. Your jaw ticked, and you had to look away, your face painted an embarrassed shade of scarlet.
Your heart dropped at his words. No way was this happening.
"You can't do that." You whispered, tears still streaming from your eyes as you stared at the ground.
"I work at the Ministry, darlin', anything is possible."
"Fuck you."
"What did you just say t'me?"
"Fuck you!" You cried out hoarsely with one hand on your shoulder and the other gripping the countertop. An animalistic like growl fell from your ex-boyfriend as he stormed towards you, fury burning bright in his eyes. He raised his wand, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for some sort of spell to hit you.
"Stupefy!" A familiar voice commanded, the swish of a spell following it suit. Then, a loud thud.
Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to see Ben laying on the floor, unconscious in a pool of his own saliva. Your chest heaved with fear, and you were incredibly scared to look up to see who had come to your rescue. Frozen, you stood still in your place, though you could feel your knees beginning to buckle. Within seconds you were on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, your lungs on fire from how harshly you were breathing. Merlin, you could've just died.
uh oh.. who saved her?
i'm sorry if you weren't tagged, i went through the majority of my notes and tried to find you all!! pls forgive me :( there was a lot due to my absence <3
taglist:
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konigsblog · 1 year ago
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Imagine farmer soap finding his little Highland cow all horny in the farm house (absolutely nothing to do with the aphrodisiac he gave her with her breakfast!)
HYBRID
white panties almost transparent due to the wetness forming from your drooling cunt. your pussy becomes sloppy, your slit glistening and your nipples hardened due to the scottish highlands harsh and cold wind. johnny can only chuckle – laughing at the state you're in; bent over laying in a stack of hay, some in your mouth, your back arched and your ass in the air to present yourself to your farmer.
his bulge only grows harder and thicker as he gazes down at the mess of a highland cow; bent over, desperate – under stimulated and in dire need of friction and affection from johnny himself. he can tell you're cold, yet all flushed and hot at once. with your nipples hard and goosebumps spreading across your soft skin, sweating caused by the wet heat in your panties. only growing as he teases you.
perhaps he'll be sweet. gripping your hips tightly, before moving them upward towards your bare breasts. warm tits with hard nipples and goosebumps along your body as he grinds his clothed cock against your covered pussy, making an even bigger mess in your pretty, white panties. farmer!johnny always has his hands on your stomach as he fucks you, gripping into the flesh on your body as he fucks and pounds into you.
holding your face against the green grass, ploughing and forcing his thick, girthy shaft deep inside your wet arousal. the other bull hybrids huff and sniff at the scent of your slick. the sweet, nectar aroma driving them before they're waved away and cursed at for being a distraction. gripping your waist, his other hand pushing your face down against the grass as he bullies his veiny dick further inside.
the growing desire and need to get his pretty little cow all swollen. the need to spurt a load of potent cum into your womb, to see you with glistening and swollen folds and his hot semen oozing down your thighs.
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keydekyie · 1 month ago
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The Drover's Shadow
[closeups and possible book IV snippet below the cut]
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742 words, no content warnings
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The little valley was cut through by a river that had carved out a sandy, pebbly ravine. On the far side, trundling along like little bundles of fuzz in the wind, was a drove of wegs. Their piggy snouts were turned up in caution to the wind, and their robe-clad drover strode among them with a bent crook. The drover stopped and stared when Ruyak came into sight, letting the drove shuffle past along the grassy hill.
Kaelin waved in greeting, and after a hesitant moment, the drover raised the crook in return.
It was a sizable drove, at least two dozen head, and probably large enough for two drovers, or at least a drover with a rodi for help, but the wegs were led obediently enough by their singular drover, and seemed perfectly willing to continue on their way in the opposite direction Ruyak was heading.
“They’re going up into the highlands for the season,” Kaelin said to Ruyak conversationally. “The cold air makes the fleece thicker.”
Ruyak didn’t reply, just kept moving at a steady pace.
“Did you ever see droves in your family’s territory?”
“Sometimes,” Ruyak muttered, and his tone was startlingly bleak. Kaelin sensed an uncomfortable subject, and so steered away from it.
“We’ll be coming to the Dakatin valley soon. The finest wool in Kellabor comes from there. The blends and techniques to make it are a trade secret, supposedly, but I’ve heard the only secret is the silk they mix in. My new nightgown is Dakatin wool.”
“It does seem very nice,” Ruyak mumbled.
“Those wegs’ wool will go to make something quite fine. They look very healthy.”
“Are they harvested at the end of the season, then?”
“Harvested? Oh, wegs aren’t killed for their wool, no. They’re shorn once a year, sometimes twice depending on the breed, I think. Although, they do make for good meat, especially if they’re grazed in forests. And their skins make excellent cloaks. So they are sometimes butchered for those reasons. But most are just shorn.”
Ruyak nodded in understanding, then a moment later he shook with a derisive laugh. “If us Kanai were smart, we’d be making good trade with drovers. Safe grazing in exchange for a bit of wool every season.” Ruyak grew somber again. “I’ve heard drovers singing in the mountains. Sometimes their roden sang with them, and even the wegs would squeal along on bright mornings. Not good singers, wegs.”
“I don’t imagine so,” Kaelin chuckled. “Enthusiastic, though.”
“Very.” Ruyak glanced back at the drover again with a smile, and slowly came to a stop, watching that lone human figure among the cloud of white wegs. Ruyak’s face twisted into a pained grimace. Worrying? Imagining the drover walking into danger up in the mountains? Where the forest’s many guardians were ready to snuff them out at the slightest provocation?
“I’m sorry to say it, Ruyak,” Kaelin murmured, “but you’re going to frighten that drover staring like that.”
“Augh, you’re right.” He shook off, as though he’d been doused with water, then turned and continued on his way. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Obviously he’d been thinking quite hard, just then, but perhaps not about that in particular. Kaelin could sense his change of mood like a storm rolling in. She knew exactly why the clouds were gathering. It was entirely possible the last weg drover Ruyak had been so close to had not survived the encounter.
“Drovers are sensible,” Kaelin told him. “They know the places that are safe.”
Ruyak pinned his ears and said nothing. Not a good sign.
So Kaelin went on, “Humans that go up into the wild places don’t venture there ignorant of the danger. They know what they are risking.”
“Then why would they risk it?”
“For their livelihoods, seeking their fortunes. Money, I mean. Or food for themselves, but usually not. Not if they are going far enough into the wilderness to meet the likes of you.”
Ruyak thought about that for a long moment, and the drover and wegs passed out of sight into the trees, each white, fluffy weg quietly vanishing. “I… I truly wish I could believe that, but I don’t think all of them…”
“Drovers know it too. We all know. As children we’re taught songs and stories and rhymes. We all know someone who never came back. Everyone knows that when you step into the dark, you might not step back out again.”
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peachesofteal · 1 year ago
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okayyyy so now i need an entire DD fantasy au…
peach, every piece of your writing is like freshly baked bread, and i am a starving peasant. you are my god.
dead disco is eating my brain.
- 🧟‍♀️
🧟‍♀️ Anon is referencing this. Same. I wish I had more time to write, I could totally take this and run with it. 🖤 🖤 I will feed you as much bread as I can.
“What- what’re you going to do with me?” You try to brace your voice with strength, bravery, anything to try to hide the truth, disguise the fear that has your hands shaking in your dress.
“We’re takin ye home, Princess.” You gape at the Highlander, the one who Introduced himself as Johnny. He tightens the girth on a sweet, sorrel pony, who nickers at you softly.
“But I am home.” You gesture to the castle that lurks behind you, and Ghost scoffs.
“You belong to us, darling. And that-“ he points at the gate. “Wasn’t much a home for you, now was it?” The image of your father being hacked to pieces by the violent stroke of his sword rips across your mind, and you shudder.
“Alright. Shall we?” Johnny motions to the pony, and you blanch.
“I don’t ride.” Your stomach knots, twisting up more than you thought possible, after everything. “I don’t- I’ve always taken a carriage.” They exchange a look, some sort of silent communication passing between the two, a deep connection that somehow manages to make you feel like an intruder, even those these are the two who ransacked your land and killed your father.
“Ye’ll ride with me then.” Johnny tells you gently, bending with a palm forward.
“I-“ The protest is in vain, and you know it. There’s no one here, to come to your rescue, no one to save you. Your own home is drenched in blood.
“Up ye get.” His hand hovers in the air by your knee, encouraging you to use it as a step, you think. But no, surely not? He couldn’t… support you. With one hand. You stand on indecision, looking from him, to the horse, to the ground. “Darling.” He murmurs softly, gentle under his breath.
It’s time.” Ghost calls, hoisting himself up onto a massive, shiny black horse that stands double your height, if not more.
“Princess.” Johnny urges. “Dinnae make me force ye onto the horse.” He’s serious, and you gulp against the cold wind that whips through your bones.
Only a few hours in, and you’re in agony. Your body is soft, not conditioned for long rides or hunts, muscles soft and skin nearly silk. Every step the horse makes feels like it may knock you off balance, bones in your back screaming at you with each jostle. Johnny tries to hold you steady, keeping you close to him, pressed to his chest, but it does little to help your discomfort. He steadies you with a hand on your hip, slowly sliding around to press against your lower belly, shifting you back into the shelter of his body, his warmth.
“Ye alright?” He murmurs into your ear, tucking your cloak tighter around your shoulders. “Ye’re shivering.”
“It’s cold.” You whisper, not even sure if he can hear you. He rubs your upper arm, squeezing it to try to work blood flow back into your skin.
“Ay.” He yells to Ghost, who’s in front, and they both pull up short. The black horse moves frighteningly quick alongside you, and Ghost studies your stricken expression intently behind the mask.
“Let’s get her into town. We can stop at the Inn for the night.” He tells Johnny, who pulls you tighter into his body.
“It’s about another hour, Darling. Think ye can make it?”
“It’s not safe, camping in these woods.” Ghost supplies as an explanation gently, and you nod.
“O-okay.”
“Good girl.”
At the end of the hour, you’re on the verge of tears. It’s frigid, you’re stiff in the saddle, legs and back and everything uncooperative, thigh muscles completely raw from trying to hold your seat.
“Easy now.” Johnny coos when he slips down, trying to encourage you to swing your leg over and follow his lead. When you try, a whimper slips free between your lips, and his brows crease in concern.
“I can’t.”
“Oh, darling.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you down into his chest, and you stifle a pained moan, face pressing into the warmth of his cloak. “Let’s get ye inside, out of the cold.” He holds you with ease, tucking you tighter amidst the little whimpers that are still slipping from your chattering teeth.
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adventuresofalgy · 2 months ago
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It wasn't exactly wet, and it wasn't exactly cold. It wasn't even particularly windy, at least, not by the standards of the wild West Highlands. But it was grey, grey, grey… Just grey, grey, grey… And that was enough to dampen the spirits of anyone, even a daft fluffy bird.
Uncertain how to occupy himself on such a dreich day, Algy decided to profit from the dismal weather by catching up with his reading. He had been asleep for such a very long time that he was sure he had forgotten much of what he once remembered. Recalling some famous lines from The Taming of the Shrew:
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en; In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
he selected a volume from his own personal set of poetry books, and settled down to study it.
The grass was still uncomfortably moist, and the garden was hushed and still. The bees had not bothered to come out today, to buzz about the hydrangea flowers which they normally loved, and the robin only trilled a few desultory notes from time to time and then stopped. But Algy was undeterred. Taking great care to keep his book away from the damp foliage, he opened it in the middle and read:
The rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He passed by the town, and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat, And he set him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, And the lark drop down at his feet. The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee, The snake slipt under a spray, The hawk stood with the down on his beak And stared, with his foot on the prey And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs, But never a one so gay, For he sings of what the world will be When the years have died away."
[Algy is reading the poem The Poet's Song by the 19th century English poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]
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sgt-tombstone · 21 days ago
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I’m Not Ready To Go
Mature || Ghost x Soap
cw: angst, MCD, vomiting, graphic description of a corpse, blood and gore, hurt no comfort
————
It’s warm here,
Come on in,
But that’s a long way to dive,
When you don’t know how to swim
- Hazlett, I’m Not Ready To Go
————
When John MacTavish was eight years old, his family went on vacation. Gun to his head, he couldn’t say where exactly, but he remembered being warm, a stark contrast to the chilled air of the Scottish Highlands that seemed to sink into his very bones. There was a pool, somewhere near where they were staying, and John had been fixated by it. It was brilliant blue, unnaturally so, and the surface shimmered in the summer sun, blinding, yet so alluring. His fascination hadn’t gone unnoticed, and his mother had led him to the water’s edge, clad in his brand new swim trunks, to dip a toe into the unknown. She slipped into the pool, the glittering sun reflecting off of the water, wreathing her in ethereal light, and motioned for him to jump in after her. But John balked. He’d never been swimming before, had never been in water deeper than his bathtub, and the thought of leaping so readily into uncharted waters had his entire body freezing up, fear lacing his veins like a paralytic.
“I dinnae ken how to swim,” he whimpered.
“It’s okay, John,” his mother had said, low and assured. “I know it’s scary, but I’m right here. I’ll hold your hand; I won’t let you fall.”
Trusting her was as easy as breathing. With one hand tight in her grip, he stepped off of the edge and into oblivion.
————
The gunshot didn’t hurt, all things considered. No more than his aching legs or straining lungs, anyway. Pressure against his temple, a concussive force that was over in a flash; the impact of his shoulder against the concrete hurt more than the bullet lodged in his brain, nestled in a bed of shattered bone. Vaguely, he could feel a rush, like water over his skull, hot and slick as his brain matter pooled on the ground beneath him.
And then he got up.
It was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done, but something in his chest, or maybe his soul, knew that there was no other option. He had to get up, so he did. He managed to roll over, get his arms underneath him, and push himself to his knees. The change in elevation made the gaping hole in his head gush, spilling scorching blood over his ear and down his neck, soaking into his shirt and tac vest, and nausea roiled in his stomach at the sensation. The world was blurry and vague, as if submerged; everything around him was muffled and slanting. He was lightheaded, which made sense, considering half of his head was currently on the ground. He swayed slightly, trying to catch his balance with the new weight distribution but it felt like he was keeling over, a ship caught in a gale, a drunkard stumbling out of a pub. His arms swung out, desperate to find some semblance of equilibrium, but he couldn’t quite manage it with half of his head suddenly feeling much lighter than before.
His stomach made a valiant attempt to keep its contents in place at the resulting swoop of vertigo, but it lost the fight as soon as he caught a glimpse of the pool of red, bright against the off-white floor. He twisted to the side, palms braced against the cold concrete to compensate for the abrupt movement, and narrowly avoided vomiting on his own body.
His own, dead, body.
Vaguely, as stomach acid burned the back of his throat, his stomach convulsing painfully, his eyes watering from the force, he wondered how it was possible. Wondered how he could be here and there at the same time, living and dead, conscious and a corpse. Normally, he didn’t make a habit of questioning miracles, leaving skepticism to Price and Ghost, but this didn’t feel like a miracle.
A train swept by, deafening in the tunnel, and the wind buffeted his body, both of them. Through the din, he heard a voice.
“John.”
She was beautiful, all soft skin and warm eyes, blinding yet alluring. Beautiful in the way that men would walk through fire and flame for, if only she led the way. Beautiful in the way that men would kill and die for, if only for the prize of her gentle smile. Beautiful in the way that had John listing towards her, towards her outstretched hand, trust as easy as breathing, but then… he balked. He looked back.
The bomb, disarmed.
Gaz and Price, standing off to the side. Gaz’s face was pressed against Price’s tac vest, his fists curled in the back of his captain’s shirt as he sobbed, held up only by the support of Price’s arms wrapped around his body.
Ghost, kneeling next to his dead body. His head was bowed, his gloved fingers tight on his knees, as if the tension held in his bones was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
“It’s okay, John,” she said, so softly that he shouldn’t have been able to hear her, but her voice rang clear anyway. He glanced back, breath caught in his throat.
“Who are ye?” He asked, but he knew who she was. He knew her as innately as he knew his own mother, the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth of her skin, the moment his life began. Death stood before him, and he knew that this was the moment his life ended.
All at once, a maelstrom of emotion surged through him. Rage, grief, fear. They ignited in his blood like a wildfire, scorching him from the inside out. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.
“I’m no’ ready to go,” he snarled, face twisted in fury, but the anger melted like snow in the face of her impassivity. He’d learned a lot from Ghost over the years, but he’d never gained the ability to intimidate Death herself, especially when she was looking at him with such gentle kindness.
“I know it’s scary,” she said, and something in him broke. Tears streamed down his cheeks before he even felt the sting in his eyes and he couldn’t catch his breath, his mouth caught open on a sob that lodged in his throat. He wrapped his arms around himself, as tightly as he could given his bulky gear, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t escape this nightmare. There was no comfort to be found here.
“I’m no’ done here,” he ground out, quiet between his lips but it echoed impossibly through the tunnel as if he had howled it, carrying all of the emotion he’d held back. He turned back to the dismal sight; to his lifeless body sprawled on the floor, heat leeching out with his blood; to his team, seemingly stuck in place, undoubtedly waiting for the medical team to arrive with the body bag. “I’m no’ even thirty,” he whispered, voice thick. “I’m supposed to have more time.”
“I’m afraid not, John,” she said. The words should’ve hurt, should’ve made him bear his teeth and fight, but he couldn’t summon the defensiveness. Desolation took its place, like a gaping hole in his chest, a twin to the one in his head. “This is all the time you get.”
“No.” He shook his head. He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. “There’s so much I didnae get to see, I cannae leave yet. Don’t make me leave.”
“You can’t stay, John.”
Her words sank through him like a stone in a still pond. He knew she was right, could feel the truth in his bones, like an ache that wouldn’t leave, a chill that he couldn’t shiver out.
“I gave everything!” He yelled, pressing his hands to his eye sockets, hard, but the outburst ebbed just as quickly as it had the first time, leaving only empty, numb resignation and a hollow sense of defeat. “I gave everything, and this is what I get?”
“I’m sorry, John,” she said earnestly after a long moment, so earnestly that he couldn’t doubt her. It only made it worse. He shuffled forward until his knees his his own side, until he was face to face with Ghost, or would have been, had Ghost been able to tear his eyes from the cold corpse between them. John lifted his trembling hands, just shy of cupping the mask-shrouded lines of Ghost’s cheeks. For a moment, a split second, Ghost glanced up, as if he could sense John’s proximity, the chill of his fingers only centimeters from his face, and their eyes met. The moment seemed to stretch and warp, a second caught in an endless expanse as he stared into the depths of Ghost’s, bourbon brown eyes for the last time. And then Ghost dropped his head again, and the second shattered.
“I cannae leave him,” he said, directing the words over his shoulder even as he kept his eyes on the slope of Ghost’s mask, the way his balaclava rippled where his hair was flattened underneath it, the careful stitching that kept the whole ensemble together. “Don’t make me leave him, not like this. I cannae- I never got to tell him…”
He knew he was dangerously close to begging, knew how hopeless it was, but he had to try.
“Simon,” he breathed, then again, louder, the sudden resurgence of his anguish lending a warbling strength to his words. “Simon, I’m so sorry, love, I didnae mean to, I promise, please, love, please look at me again-“
“He can’t hear you, John,” she murmured.
“Tell me he’ll be okay,” he snarled at the interruption, whipping his head to the side, just far enough to throw the words behind him. A bad idea, if the swoop of his still-unbalanced head was any indication, but he didn’t care. There was nothing more important than this. The urgency was glass under his skin, paralyzing.
“John, I can’t-“
“Lie to me if you have to,” he snapped, “but tell me he’ll be okay. He’ll die in his sleep when he’s eighty, quick and painless. Tell me he makes it out. Tell me he disnae die here.”
He could hear another train coming, rushing down the tracks, rumbling through his knees. The medics would be here soon, no doubt, and then it would be chaos. Team members or not, the rest of the 141 would be swept to the side, told to return to base for debrief and several rounds of psychological evaluations. He could see the slow preparation to move in the shift of Price’s arms around Gaz, getting ready to let go, letting him find his footing again before stepping back. He could see it in the flexing of Ghost’s hands against his knees, fingertips digging into the flesh of his thighs, burying everything until they got back to base, just like he always did. Only, this time, he wouldn’t be there to see it. He wouldn’t be there to bump his shoulder against Simon’s, a comforting weight at his side.
“I love you, Johnny,” Simon whispered, so low that John thought he’d imagined it. Agony laced his voice, dripping with grief and guilt. He ripped off his mask, quick and desperate, and John was gifted the unique torment of watching, helpless, as Simon’s lips curled in a silent keen, his tears running in wavering rivulets down his scarred cheeks. He brought the cloth part of his mask up to his face to wipe away the tears. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Johnny.”
He stretched his hand out and his fingers were twitching, his arm trembling, every sniper instinct utterly broken, but the touch he used to close John’s unseeing eyes was as gentle as a wave, softer than water, extinguishing the dull, lifeless blue.
“Goodbye, love,” he breathed, and then he stood up, pulling his mask back over his head, shutting out the rest of the world, containing everything that was Simon Riley behind the skull plate, locked tight. He turned, stooping to pick up his gun, and stalked out of the tunnel, not waiting for Price or Gaz to catch up.
John stared after him, rendered—for once in his life, or maybe only in death—speechless. The train hurtled through the tunnel, but he barely noticed it. He felt scraped hollow, nothing more than a husk, eyes caught on the retreating back of the love of his life. He’d never be able to say it back.
“He makes it out,” Death said softly as the sound of the train faded in the distance. He’d forgotten she was there, but he didn’t startle. She was a calming presence at his back, a warmth that he couldn’t explain, didn’t even try. He didn’t know if she was lying and he didn’t dare ask. It was a comforting fantasy, if nothing else. He swallowed roughly, ran a hand through his mohawk, and stood up. It was easier this time, somehow, or maybe he’d gotten used to the dead weight. He turned, his back to his own corpse for the first time, and felt the yawning expanse of the unknown in front of him, a nebulous, unseen aura that shimmered like sun on water, wreathing Death in ethereal light. Her expression was soft and sympathetic, but he didn’t feel the sharp sting of pity he’d expected. It made his next words a little easier to bear.
“I dinnae… I dinnae ken how to swim.”
“I’m right here, John,” she said, low and assured. “I’ll hold your hand; I won’t let you fall.”
Trusting her was as easy as breathing. He placed his hand in hers, tight in her grip, and together, they stepped off of the edge and into oblivion.
————
Feel free to drop a kudos or comment on AO3!
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jolieeason · 1 year ago
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A Cold Highland Wind (Lady Emily Ashton Mysteries: Book 17) by Tasha Alexander
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, Minotaur Books Date of publication: October 3rd, 2023 Genre: Mystery, Historical Fiction, Fiction, Scotland, Mystery Thriller, Historical Mystery, Historical Series: Lady Emily Ashton Mysteries And Only to Deceive—Book 1 A Poisoned Season—Book 2 A Fatal Waltz—Book 3 The Bridal Strain: Emily and Colin’s Wedding—Book 3.5 Tears of Pearl—Book 4 Dangerous to…
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callofdudes · 11 months ago
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Did they just post artwork? Yes. Am I in love with every viking/cod au that crosses my path? Yes. Do I like shifters? Fucking absolutely.
And @aidenlydia has fed me all of those at once. So obviously I'm writing something for it because it's beautiful! Here is their original post.
Winter fall.
09 SoapGhost
Snow in the Highlands was always to be expected. Even in the deep treks as the white specks of freezing cold weather clung to his beard. Icy blue eyes only added to the background, wind whipping around them up in the mountains.
John stopped in the slow, noticing part of the thick pine tree line had been caved in. Branches snapped and trees arching from a weight.
Deep foot prints quickly being filled by the pummelling snow leading into the dark abyss of the forest.
Along his collar, Ghost stirred. Fluffing his feathers along John's neck, making him shiver a little.
"You wanna go have a look?"
The rather large crow's wings puffed out from the fuzzy fur cloak John wore, making a rather disgruntled noise.
John chuckles. "Be quick then, we're both hungry."
His little feet bounced, pushing off of John's shoulder and flapping his large black wings against the harsh winds. Snow landing across his feathers and beak.
John watched as Ghost took the wind, soaring up over the tree line and dashing through the pine wood.
The trees bowed and swayed, bending as Ghost monitored the snowy forest floor. Seeing broken branches and trees bent all the way down the side of the embankment.
Sharp eyes surveying every inch until he spotted their goal. The large elk that had wandered it's way into their trap and woken their stomachs gnawing on some grass.
Ghost cawed, alerting John before diving toward the large beast.
Hearing his cry, John grabbed his axe, rushing through the flurry of snow. Past pine branches and into the thick darkness.
Following the deep trails of the elk until coming across the opening where Ghost was picking a fight with it.
Feet planted on the elks muzzle as it tried to shake him off and cant him away. Ghost squawked, flapping his wings into its face, disorienting it.
Before the elk could figure out what was happening, John slammed his axe in an upper cut, the blade lodging between the thick fur and skin, tearing at the ribs, making the animal cry.
Blood covered the pearl white snow, soaking into the flurry as it fought and then fell to its demise.
Ghost squawked, flapping his wings rapidly and landing on John's head and fluffing his feathers, stretching out one wing to finely clean the feathers.
John secured the elk to a rope and pulled it up over his shoulder. "You all good up there??" John reached up and Simon hopped along the top of his head, crooning his beak to peck at John's firm hand.
"Good lad. Let's get this back to a fire. I'm starving."
Simon flapped his wings, hopping down into the fur of John's cloak, snuggling up and puffing out his feathers a little.
They trekked back through the snow with their meal, heading back to the cave opening where they'd been set up to hunt game for the last week.
Their leather bed rolls laid across from each other, the rocks pulled up around thee scorched wood of last night's fire.
John set the elk onto a rock, grabbing out his dagger. "Get the fire going yeah?" Ghost nuzzled his beak against John's neck and flapped down into the snow.
Tight leather shoes crunching to the snow. Ghost wrapped his arms around his body, the cloth scarf that wrapped around his neck, one end falling to end at his breast, the other wrapped over his nose. Hiding his pale complexion amongst the flurry of snow.
His eyes still resembling the sharp, cunning gaze of the crow. Nimble hands wrapped in leather picking up wood from under their small camp out and replacing the old logs.
He looked up at John, his large muscles flexing as he split open the elk. Stripping the intestines and skinning the top from the meat of the animal.
He grabbed their chipped rocks from by John's bedside, striking them over the fresh wood and watching them catch light.
"How long will that last us?" He finally asks before blowing on the starting sparks of the fire.
"A week or two if we eat wisely." John replied, throwing the skin into a pile next to the rest of their leather, which they would use to package and conserve the meat in the cold climate.
"How long do you suspect we'll be out here?"
"Long enough. Why? Wanting a vacation already?" John chuckles softly.
Simon scoffs, folding one knee up to his chin, poking the fire with their stick. "No, just wondering."
A gentle silence followed. The howl of the wind passing by their small alcove but never entering. And the occasional noise of John chopping up the fat of the animal.
It wasn't a long process, they'd done it before.
When John was ready he pulled off part of the pure thigh meat. The slick slabs from each side laying in the snow.
For now he'd leave it. So he took the pieces up and sat near Ghost on the small rock carve out, his leather sleeping pad cushioning his arse barely.
He got the metal hook and slipped one of the slabs of meat onto it. The flames in the pit sparkling, popping and reaching up to the meat. Blood dripped into the fire, making it sizzle and crackle.
Ghost watched it. Still poking his stick around in the fire aimlessly. John noticed, even Simon's small amount of feather coverage around his forearms, shoulders and ears were barely enough against the wind that passed.
He unclipped his heavy cloak, pulling the emblem away from his neck, catching Ghost's attention.
It was a silent exchange when he laid the cloak over Ghost's shoulders. Watching him slightly slump as the fabric engulfed his body into the warmth that John's own body had.
Ghost pulled it close, sinking into it while he watched the fire.
John's large muscular shoulders bare to the cold weather turned slightly red around his neck muscle, dusted with barely noticable freckles.
Ghost looked over at him, shifting a little closer. John hummed softly, feeling Simon's smaller body closer to him, "We'll head back to the village soon for proper rest."
Simon hummed, staring into the fire. "We can get some alcohol too.."
John chuckles softly. "And alcohol, bloody yes we're getting alcohol."
Simon looks up at him, leaning slowly against his side. "You're a dumb drunk."
"Mm, well I can say the same about you."
John tucked the cloak in tighter, pulling Ghost right against him, surprising the smaller man.
He huffed softly, looking away at the ground, but it was warm. John's large hand wrapped around him, holding him protectively. There was always something so nice about it.
His eyelids fluttered slightly, drooping and allowing himself to lean in further to the side of the steady man.
A branch snapped, making him sit back up straight again.
John's attention also moved to the opening of the cave, placing a firm hand on Ghost's thigh. "Easy, just the wind." He assured.
Ghost slowly relaxed, looking back over at the snow covered land once more to double check.
John's arm remained protectively around him, holding his thigh, letting Simon curl up closely to him.
John poked the fire with the stick, splashing more embers up onto the meat. The time slowly ticked away as it cooked.
The small amount of feather coverage on Simon's forearms bristled. One arm poking out from the cloak, crooning his neck to nip at the mashed feathers and preen them back into place with his teeth.
John thought it was adorable. Sitting with him in that peaceful moment. Getting some time to just relax. Knowing they'd be out here for hunting season quite a while. But they made a good team, that's for sure.
I was gonna do more but got a road trip and I love these two. This was what I could splurge onto the page. I want more 😭😭
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ubejamjar · 8 months ago
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FFXIV Vanilla Gpose | Five | Vacation
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I'll admit it-- the Coerthas Western Highlands is hardly paradise. It's too cold to stray from the campfire long and the snow never seems to stop. The wind is howling. I can hear Sleet Traps shuffling in the snow, the bright crackling of Ice Sprites as they float past, glowing white-blue. But it's peaceful. There's no one here but me and my books. I'm free to sit by the fire, sip my tea, and simply while away the hours. There's nothing more I could want.
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bethanythebogwitch · 8 months ago
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Dry Beast Monday: chinchillas
For over a year now I've been doing weekly Wet Beast Wednesday posts where I do a deep dive on some aquatic animal, and you know what? I'm tired of it! This is now a dry beast blog!* And where better to start than an animal that can literally die if it gets wet? Beasts can't get much dryer than that. So strap in for the first Dry Beast Monday... Dmonday?... Drunday? Whatever, it's the chinchilla.
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(Image: a pet chinchilla in a cage, standing upright on a wood platform that has been heavily chewed. It is a rotund mammal with a similar body plan to rabbits, featuring a large head distinct from a round body. Its hind paws are larger than the forepaws and have more distinct toes. Its eyes are almost completely black and it has a flat nose with very long whiskers. The ears are large, rounded, and mostly furless. The tail is bristly hair like a squirrel's and is curled up. Most of its fur is a dark grey but the fur on its underside is white. End ID)
Chinchillas are rodents (the best mammals, fight me) that are members of the family Chinchilladae along with the viscachas. There are two living species of chinchilla: the long-tailed chinchilla (Chinchilla lanigera) and the short-tailed chinchilla (Chinchilla chinchilla, formerly Chinchilla brevicaudata). The two species can produce sterile hybrid offspring. Domesticated chinchillas are descended from the long-tailed chinchilla. All chinchillas are medium-sized rodents with powerful back legs, long whiskers, large ears, and extremely dense fur. In comparison, the short-tailed chinchilla is larger and has a shorter tail, thicker and less distinct neck and shoulders, and smaller ears. The most famous feature of chinchillas is their fur. At about 20,000 hairs per square centimeter, chinchillas have the second densest fur of any mammal, second only to sea otters. Each hair follicle grows up to 50 hairs, compared to human follicles, which only grow 1. The fur is famous for being incredibly soft, often described as velvety. If you've never felt a chinchilla its really hard to describe just how soft they are. The fur is so dense because Chinchillas live in the highlands of the Andes mountains where it gets very cold. The fur is used for insulation and even with it being so thick, chinchillas still need to bask in the sun to warm themselves up. The fur is actually the reason why chinchillas can't get wet. Their fur is so dense that wanter can't evaporate easily, instead remaining around long enough for fungus to start growing in the fur. This can lead to a lot of different skin conditions and infections that can be lethal. When chinchillas bathe, they take dust baths. By rolling around in volcanic ash, the can work the ash into their fur, where it absorbs oils, moisture, and other contaminants. This keeps the fur clean and healthy. Domestic chinchillas need specially made dust for their baths. It cannot be substituted with sand or other materials. Chinchillas can release chunks of their fur in order to escape from predators, leaving the predator holding nothing but a tuft of hair while the chinchilla runs away. This is called fur drop and in domestic chinchillas it can be a sign of mishandling or stress. Wild chinchillas have grey fur, but domestic breeds have been bread to have other colors of fur, including white and black. Chinchillas can't sweat, which isn't a problem in their natural habitat, but is for domestic chinchillas. The only way for them to cool down is to expose their ears (which are hairless and heavily vascularized) to wind. Chinchillas in temperatures at or above 26 degrees C (80 F) are at risk of having heat strokes. Daytime in the Andes can exceed those temperatures, so chinchillas hide in burrows during the day. Chinchillas are very skilled at jumping, able to leap up to 1.8 meters (6 ft). Their hind legs are longer than the forelegs and provide propulsion when walking or jumping. The toes has fleshy pads called papillae that help them grip onto surfaces. Chinchillas live in arid, rocky conditions and are skilled at leaping between rocks. The tails act like rudders, providing stability and direction when leaping. The front feet are capable of gripping and picking up objects. Females tend to be larger than the males, but there is otherwise little visual difference between the sexes. Wild short-tailed chinchillas can reach 38 cm (including tail) and 800 grams while wild long-tailed chinchillas can reach 26 cm (including tail) and 450 grams. Domestic chinchillas can get up to twice the size of their wild relatives.
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(Image: a wild long-tailed chinchilla sitting under a rock. Its body plan is the same as the pet chinchilla above, but its fur is a lighter grey End ID)
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(Image: a short-tailed chinchilla in captivity. It has a less distinct neck than the long-tailed chinchilla, making it look like its head merges with the body. Its tail is shorter than that of the long-tailed chinchilla, making up about 1/5th of its length as compared to the long-tailed chinchilla's 1/3rd. End ID)
Chinchillas are social animals that live in colonies called herds that can reach up to 100 members. Females dominate the herds and can be aggressive toward each other, though physical fights are rare. The herd cooperates when finding food, always having at least one member acting as a lookout to spot predators while the rest feed. They communicate vocally, with 10 types of vocalizations on record for. Social behaviors include grooming, playing, and friendly nibbling of each other's ears. Pet chinchillas should never be kept alone. They should be in same-sex groups of at least 2. Chinchillas are crepuscular, active mostly at dawn and dusk. During the day and night, they are usually found hiding in burrows or crevices between rocks, where they can avoid predators and high or low temperatures. They are primarily herbivores, but will supplement their diets with insects and other bugs. Most of their diet consists of grasses, seeds, and succulents and cacti. Wild ones almost never drink water, instead getting all of their hydration from their food. Chinchilla digestive systems are fairly specialized to their food. Domestic chinchillas need special-formulated food and can only have wooden chew toys form certain species of wood. Fresh or dried fruit is good for a treat, but should not be a regular part of their diet as they have a lot of sugar. As with all rodents, the incisors grow continuously through the animal's entire life and need to be worn down by chewing on things.
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It is surprisingly hard to find good-quality images of wild chinchillas. Most of the time when you search for wild chinchilla pictures what you get are either domestic chinchillas or viscachas.
(Image: a trail-cam shot of two wild long-tailed chinchillas. The photo is i black-and-white. One is in the foreground on all fours while another is on its hind feet in the background, standing on a rock. The terrain is rocky and the chinchillas are next to a shrub. The camera's light makes their eyes appear to glow white. End ID)
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(Image: a wild short-tailed chinchilla that is part of a relocation effort. Its fur is light grey with darker patches. A gloved human hand is reaching in from the right side of the image. End ID)
Male chinchillas appear to be fertile year-round, but females only enter estrus during the winter, from May to November in their natural habitat. Gestation takes around 120 days in both species and both species typically have two litters a year (a low rate for a small mammal). Offspring (called kits) are born well-developed, with fur and open eyes, and can run as soon as they are born. They nurse for 6-8 weeks before being weaned. 1-6 kits are born at a time, with 2 being the usual number. Chinchillas are monogamous, mating for life. Either partner can initiate mating, which they do so with hair-pulling. Unusually for rodents, male chinchillas do provide care for their offspring. Members of the same herd will help each other with parenting. Female chinchillas have been known to adopt the kits of other females who can't nurse due to health issues. Females are usually dominant due to their size. Chinchillas become sexually mature at around 8 months. In the wild they can live for 10 years, which is doubled in captivity.
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(Image: an adult domestic chinchilla with a juvenile. The juvenile is smaller than the adult, with proportionally larger head and limbs and proportionally smaller tail. The two of them are nuzzling their snouts together. End ID)
The name chinchilla comes from the Chincha people of the Andes, who hunted chinchillas for their fur and meat. This hunting increased vastly after European colonization of South America. Between hunting and trapping, both species of chinchilla were brought to near extinction and vastly reduced their native range. Both species are now only found in Chile and have been granted legal protection. The IUCN switched their classifications between Vulnerable, Endangered, and Critically Endangered for a while. As of 2016, both species are classified as Endangered, upgraded from Critically Endangered as their populations have seen some improvement. Poaching, both for fur and capture for sale as pets, is still a large threat to wild chinchillas. Their close cousins, the viscachas, are doing much better as they were not hit as hard by the fur trade. The domestication of the long-tailed chinchilla is thanks to Mathias F. Chapman, an engineer who became fascinated with the animals after meeting a native person who was trying to sell one. He ended up getting permission from the government of Chile to capture several and import them to the USA. It took him 3 years to catch enough that he considered suitable for breeding, 11 in total. He then spend over a year gradually bringing them down from the highlands to sea level, giving them plenty of time to acclimate to the lower altitude. Once in the USA, Chapman started breeding his chinchillas in a farm in California, though he had to deal with medical problems and a thief stealing half of his stock. Eventually, though, his experiment paid off. The vast majority of all domesticated chinchillas today are descended from those original 11, brought to the states in 1923. Chinchillas today are raised in captivity for their fur, for use as laboratory animals, and as pets. While both species are raised in captivity for fur, the domesticated chinchilla is descended from the long-tailed chinchilla and short-tailed chinchillas apparently do not make as good pets.
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(Image: a black-and-white photo of Mathias F. Chapman, a white man with a large nose wearing a shirt and tie. A chinchilla is standing on his leg and looking at the camera while he looks at the chinchilla. End ID)
* April Fools
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anomalyaly · 5 days ago
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Winter Wonderland
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It's snowing in Feldcroft. Sebastian thinks it's romantic. His girlfriend believes otherwise. He believes it's his job to change her mind. OR: Sebastian and Elsie's first Christmas as a couple. OR: Sebastian Sallow doesn't know how to control himself (again).
This ended very differently than I had originally planned.
Tags: Fluff, so much fluff, sickening fluff, sexual references (Sebastian has naughty thoughts) but SFW, a teeny tiny hint of angst. Sebastian POV, Sebastian x F!MC (Elsie Corvin), aged-up characters. Canon to 'Secrets of the Silent Stars' universe but no prior reading necessary.
Word Count: 3.2k
AO3/Wattpad
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Winters in the Highlands were nothing short of brutal – on the coldest days, the frost-bitten wind cut through every layer of warm, woolen clothing and chilled the body right to the bone, while the warmer days brought gloomy clouds and slushy rain that even the boldest explorers didn’t want to be caught outside in.
During this particular holiday, however, Sebastian was thankful to be blessed with the most beautiful snowfall, the white tufts softly blanketing the ground around him as he stood in the middle of the hamlet – uncommon so early in the winter season. The gentle flurries were certainly not something he had seen often growing up, as the winter weather he remembered fluctuated between raging blizzards and deadly frosts. He reached down to rub the powder between his fingers and smiled to himself — perfect.
It was a special Christmas for him, considering it was the first time he and his Ravenclaw girlfriend were spending it together alone, and the snow only added to the romantic ambiance he had so badly desired to create in the little hamlet of Feldcroft. It was difficult for both of them to be back, but Sebastian had resolved to do his best to make their time there worthwhile.
Elsie, unfortunately, detested the cold and was determined to spend the day curled up on the couch by the fire with her book.
One night away from the castle, they had agreed, just to get out of the stuffy, dank corridors of Hogwarts. They were seventh years with more freedom, after all, and had been together for a few months. They hardly ever had time alone these days – with his girlfriend’s distaste for public affection, she rarely let him do more than light brushes or hand-holding when their friends were around or when Elsie’s sister Lydia followed them like a lost puppy.
They weren’t completely alone for the entire stay in Feldcroft, but for the short moment that they were, he was going to enjoy it.
Sebastian dusted off his boots as he walked back into the warm house. “It’s snowing outside.”
Still curled up on the couch by the fireplace, Elsie was bundled in several layers of blankets. She peeked up at him from behind her book. “Mhm. I can tell. The draft you brought in when you opened the door was a pretty big hint.”
He frowned at her as he brushed more snow off of his shoulders. “Don’t you want to go outside and see it?”
Instead of gracing him with a response, Elsie curled further into the thick blankets and raised her book to her face once more. Sebastian sighed irritatedly and sauntered over behind the couch, tucking his chin against her shoulder and jutting out his bottom lip in a soft pout. “Please?”
Elsie groaned dramatically. “But it’s cold. And I’m in the middle of a really good chapter!”
He nuzzled his face into her neck and breathed in the intoxicating scent of her vanilla and jasmine perfume. He gently dragged his lips along her pulse, knowing that one way or another, he was going to convince her to do something he wanted. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.”
She let out a soft moan that she quickly tried to cover up by clearing her throat, but he knew the effect he was having on her — the blush that colored her cheeks was indication enough. He smirked as she nudged him away.
“Fine,” she murmured. “For a few minutes, and then we come right back inside, and I get back to reading my book peacefully by the fire.”
“Perfect.” Sebastian held his hand out for her to follow him. “I’ll even throw in some cuddles, free of charge.”
She scoffed. “It’s never just cuddles with you.”
He grinned mischievously. “Is that a problem, love?”
Her blush deepened, which only caused him to laugh teasingly, and she quickly turned away from him to gather her winter garments.
As often as Sebastian had tried to get Elsie fully alone, they hadn’t crossed that line…yet. Her relationship status at home was complicated at best, and, though she dismissed it as something she would handle, she didn't intentionally want to cause a commotion with her parents before she had ever introduced Sebastian to them. Even when they showed a lack of attention toward her, she still seemed to care deeply about their opinions and wanted to give them a good first impression of him.
Not to mention, her distinct lack of experience made her uneasy about almost any physical affection he presented her with. Sebastian wasn’t going to push her to the point of discomfort – he wasn’t completely selfish, and he valued any time he could spend with her. But, he was a man with desires – long-suffering, pent-up desires – and he was certainly willing to work with her and ease her into anything she would allow of him. He was simply waiting for the go-ahead.
It only added to the strain when she outwardly showed that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. But if kissing was all she would let him do for now, then he would kiss her everywhere and as often as possible.
She bent down to pull on her boots, and he couldn’t help but pause to admire her figure as she did. He silently thanked whatever powers that be that she was his, at least in some sense of the word – he very much looked forward to the day she would be his in all senses.
Sebastian steeled his expression as she turned back around, pulled her coat off the rack, and fastened each of the buttons. Elsie wrapped her scarf around her neck and put her gloves on, grumbling to herself and fixing her eyes on him with an irritated expression.
“There. Happy?”
He chuckled. “I will be when you come outside and see the snow.”
She groaned as he opened the door and a cold blast of air blew into the house. He let out a snort as Elsie gave one last longing look at the fireplace before stepping outside into the winter wonderland.
“Isn’t it fantastic?” Sebastian said, leading her up to the overlook post. If they were going to witness the splendor that was the Highlands in the snow, they were going to do it properly.
Elsie didn’t seem to agree with his assessment as she stomped up the stairway. “I’m not particularly keen on seeing the view of Rookwood Castle in the snow if that’s what you’re referring to.”
He stopped once he reached the top and turned around, frowning. “We’re not looking in that direction. We’re looking out here.” Sebastian wrapped his arms around her waist and faced her toward the hamlet. He rested his chin on her shoulder and pulled her in tightly, both in a silent plea to stay close to him and to provide her with warmth. “I’ve never seen so much snow cover Feldcroft this early in the year.”
Elsie was strangely quiet as she gazed out to the horizon – typically a telltale sign that her mind was circling a million thoughts at once. He opened his mouth to ask what she was thinking when she said, “I wonder if Isidora –”
Sebastian interrupted her with a groan. “No. We’re not thinking about any of that.”
“It was just a thought!” She grumbled. “The first of several, actually.”
“Were any of them about how badly you wanted to kiss me?”
He laughed and wrapped his arms tighter around her as she tried to elbow him.
“I just mean,” she began again, “I’m starting to wonder why we came out here in the first place. It’s not easy for either of us to be here, and yet you insisted that we needed to get out of the castle for a bit.”
“And I was right,” Sebastian hummed, nuzzling his face into her scarf. “Clearly being trapped inside isn’t doing your pretty little head any good.”
She sighed, and he felt her shiver against him, but she didn’t offer any retort.
“It’s just — this is where it all began, right?” She gestured to the small hamlet. “The repository, the rebellion, the — the stuff with Isidora. Even us.”
“Technically,” Sebastian countered, “that began in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
“Technically, I didn’t know you well enough to feel that way about you,” she scoffed.
“Technically,” he smirked, “you still did.”
“Technically, you’re an idiot.”
He let out a loud laugh. His face softened when he spoke. “Not everything that happened here was bad. There were some good things that happened, too.”
Generally, his memories of Feldcroft were fairly bleak — memories of Anne’s curse, Solomon’s overall attitude toward him, and, of course, the more recent events that had occurred there inside the nearby catacomb. But, in the midst of all of it, there were still a few flickers of light that he opted to focus on instead; memories that he held tightly to in his darkest moments.
The look Elsie gave him was full of skepticism and wonder as she turned her head slightly to face him. “Like what?”
Sebastian paused in thought. “Like…when it would snow like this, me and Anne would try to catch snowflakes on our tongues. We would make it a competition to see who could catch the most.” He chuckled at the memory. “Although, there’s not really any way to check if we were being honest. She always ended up winning.”
She furrowed her brow. “Catch snowflakes?”
“What, you’ve never done that before?”
Elsie pursed her lips. “I wasn’t really allowed outside much. Playing in the snow wasn’t exactly considered a ‘ladylike’ activity.”
He pulled away from her slightly, grinning. “No time like the present.”
“What?”
“Go on.” Sebastian cupped the back of her neck encouragingly. “Just tilt your head up, stick your tongue out, and let the snowflakes fall on it.”
The look Elsie gave him was nothing short of bewildered, but she complied, sticking out her tongue and squeezing her eyes closed as she waited for the snowflakes to fall. Sebastian let out a soft laugh at the child-like expression on her face. “How does it taste?”
She pulled her tongue back in and smacked her lips together. “Like…ice?” She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him once more. “I can see how that would be fun for children, but I think I’m a bit beyond enjoying any of it. I suppose I missed out.” She rolled her tongue in her mouth as if trying to get another taste of the snowflakes. “Was it supposed to taste like anything special? It’s snow.”
Sebastian smiled slyly at her as he brushed his nose up against hers, cold and pink from the frost. “Hm. Not sure, it’s been a long time since I’ve tried it. Mind if I have a taste?”
“What?” Her eyes went wide with confusion. “What are you — What do you —?”
He could tell that she quickly understood his hidden meaning as her breath hitched when he cupped her chin and traced his thumb along her lower lip. As always, he knew that was her way of silent agreement, and he smiled broadly as he pressed his lips fully against hers in a fervent kiss.
Sebastian had performed this dance with Elsie dozens of times at this point, yet each time he wrapped his arms around her and felt the warmth of her soft mouth against his, it felt just as exciting as the first time. The soft whimpers she let out as he tangled his fingers in her hair never ceased to excite him, and the feel of the gentle curves of her body against his, even with the layers of winter clothing on, always had him wanting more.
Damn her for wanting to be so proper.
He had been told all his life that he didn’t know when to stop, but how could he when the beautiful temptress in his arms fit so perfectly��against him? When every breathy sound that left her awoke something so primal in him?
Within his warring mind, his impulsive side won, as was the usual, and he lightly dragged his tongue along her bottom lip, seeking entrance and begging for the smallest taste. It came as no surprise to him when she yelped and pulled back abruptly.
“Sebastian!”
Elsie blushed furiously and turned her head away from him. Sebastian let out a small whine, but he, albeit reluctantly, accepted her refusal, and loosened his grip on her slightly enough for her to pull away if she desired but kept his hands on her in the hopes that she wouldn’t.
“Got a bit carried away,” he slurred happily, drunk off of the rush that the kiss had given him. “Can you blame me?”
She did pull away then, and Sebastian frowned as disappointment washed over him. Elsie turned her back on him, and his disappointment quickly morphed into panic and concern. She doesn’t want me. I went too far and now she’s upset with me and she’s going to leave —
He was yanked from his thoughts as something cold struck him in the face. He brushed off the snow that Elsie had thrown at him and saw, to his surprise, that she was giggling.
“You need to learn how to control yourself.” She picked up another pile of snow and lobbed it at his head. Her cheeks were still tinged pink, both from their kissing and the cold, her hair slightly mussed from when he had threaded his fingers through it. She burst into peals of laughter as the snow collided with him, and he felt his heart soar.
Sebastian brushed off the bits of ice from his hair and grinned deviously at her. “Careful, darling. You know I never back down from a fight.”
“Unfortunately,” she offered an impish smile as another giggle slipped out, “you’ll have to catch me first!”
Before he could retaliate, she ducked and ran, and his snowball went soaring over the railing behind her. He followed closely behind as Elsie stumbled down the stairs of the overlook, hurling more piles of snow over her shoulder as she went.
“Elsie, the stairs are slippery!” He called out, his joy mixing with concern as she lost her footing a few times. “You’re going to f— ”
Right as she reached the bottom step, her foot gave out from under her, and, in a panic, Sebastian reached out and attempted to scoop her up in his arms to stop her from falling. Instead, his arm snagged around her waist, and they both tumbled into the snow at the base of the overlook. After being met with a face full of ice and dirt, Sebastian opened his eyes.
He was relieved to see that Elsie had fallen safely on her back, his hand cradling her head. Her eyes were still squeezed shut anticipating the impact of her fall, and she let out a soft groan as she slowly blinked them open.
Naturally, Sebastian’s first instinct would have been to check if she was alright and spend several minutes inspecting her for any injuries. But when she shifted underneath him, the only thing he could focus on was the fact that her body was beneath his, her legs wrapped around his waist in a very intimate position.
She was saying something to him, he was certain of it — he could see her mouth moving, but his mind was unable to process any of the words coming out, too focused on the reaction his body was having to her ceaseless squirming causing just the perfect amount of friction in all the right places. He only had to —
“SEBASTIAN, get off of me! It’s cold!” Elsie squealed, snapping him out of his amorous haze. “There is ice going up my back, and I’m not happy about it!”
She was still pressing her full weight against him, trying to shove him off with her arms as she writhed beneath him. Sebastian stood as quickly as possible and discreetly adjusted himself, silently grateful for the thick winter clothing that hid any evidence of his arousal, before holding a hand out to help her up.
“Are you alright?” He finally asked as he aided her in brushing the clumps of ice off of her hair and coat.
Elsie fixed him with a glare. “No. I didn’t want to come out here because it’s freezing, and now I’m covered in snow!” She let out a frustrated groan, looking flustered as she continued to dust off the rest of the powder from her jacket. “I thought I was missing out on something, and I tried to have fun, and now I just look ridiculous, and it’s really embarrassing, and— ”
“Thank you.” Sebastian interrupted her rambling by cupping her face. “For coming outside to see the snow with me.”
She looked at him doubtfully. He chuckled and planted a soft kiss on her scrunched-up nose. “I mean it.”
Elsie opened her mouth to protest again, but a shiver came out instead. “I’m cold.”
“How about,” he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “we go back inside, and I can draw you a nice warm bath. And then I’ll hold to my promise about just cuddles in front of the fireplace.”
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Counter-offer, I draw myself a bath, considering the last time you tried to transfigure anything in that cottage, you nearly burned the place down.”
Sebastian scoffed. “It was one time.”
“One time of trying to create a romantic dinner scene that nearly went up in flames.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “You’re lucky Ominis and I walked in at the right moment.”
“Ominis wasn’t even supposed to be there,” he grumbled.
“Regardless,” Elsie laughed softly.
Sebastian sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, muttering his agreement. It felt almost like a rejection, again, but he wasn’t going to let it bother him. Not if his loving girlfriend still allowed him to have her all to himself, broken edges and all. “And then cuddles?”
She grinned broadly. “And then cuddles.”
He wrapped his arms around her and happily led her back inside, grateful to have someone in his life who provided him with the soft affection that he had never believed he deserved. It was something that, for a long time, he had thought was beyond his reach, and he never once wanted to take any of it for granted.
I love you, he thought to himself. But he didn’t say it out loud.
Not yet.
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konigsblog · 1 year ago
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your spot (johnny mactavish x gn!reader)
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mwiii spoilers below. angst warning.
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you sat on the hard rock, looking at the blinding sun as it began to set in the far distance. the light yellows and deepening oranges fading, the sunset he created tonight. you could hear the sounds of the cold water swishing and splashing due to the faint wind, along with the chirping on the birds in the trees. the leaves rustling when they flew away.
everything felt so quiet without him. without the constant chatter and his obnoxious jokes, ones that were stupid yet always made you giggle, even if it was just a little. johnny loved that. he loved to make you laugh, to see you smile.
you held the urn in your hands, biting the inside of your cheek and wiping your tears with the back of your hand. holding your boyfriend in your hands just one last time. you couldn't comprehend that this was forever, eternal without him until you joined him too. you sighed out, tears already flowing down your cheeks, staining into your skin.
his ashes laying on the rock, slowly sliding down the mountain and into the highland's sea. you sobbed out, holding the urn close to your chest, chin rested on the lid as you weeped out painfully. your bones and heart aching.
the following days were torture.
november 5th, the day he was supposed to come home from deployment. you had ingredients in the fridge and cupboard, expecting to make his favourite and share it with him. but you couldn't bring yourself too, not when all you could do was stare at the old photos of you two together. his lips on your cheek, the texture of his stubble against your fingers when you ran your fingertips across it.
it all felt too fast, like you were forgetting everything already. you missed the way his large body warmed the sheets, now left cold, his side of the bed empty. his cologne laid half empty, only spraying it occasionally so you could smell him, to be reminded of him. you eventually stopped doing that, as it only brought you to tears.
his toothbrush laid in the same place as it usually did, along with his razor. his shirt on your body, holding it against your face to smell him, his minty, comforting aroma. your eyes watered, grew raw when you thought about him. thought about all the ‘what if’'s
what if you were there? what if he didn't go?
that comforting, rough scottish accent in your ear when you played the voice notes back to yourself. you wish you could listen to him ramble again, about whatever. you usually brushed it off when he spoke about the dumb things his friend gaz had down before, yet you wish you'd never, so you could've spent just a few more minutes with him and his voice in your ear.
you missed the way his hard chest pressed against yours when you hugged him. how he held you in his burly arms, holding you tightly while you ran your fingers along his face as he slept. the shallow breathing and the loud snores. giggling when he mumbled out, ‘i love you’ and held you tighter through sleep.
your heart broke when you found it, laying in a red box.
the ring he was planning to propose to you with.
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