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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that

Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!

This is all the hangman's fault.

Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death.

They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them.

A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected.

Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist.

The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”

“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.”

Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”

“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark.

“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”

“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.

“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”

“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”

“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”

“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”

“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”

“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life.

“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”

“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”

The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”

The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”

“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled.

“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”

“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft.

After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him.

“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human.

“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”

Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”

A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”

Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken.

“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”

The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”

“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch.

“Down we go.” Duck sinks.

“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.

“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill.

“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others.

“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.

“It’s wonderful.”

“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”

--------------------------------------

The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs.

Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself.

“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.

“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”

Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”

“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”

“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”

“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”

To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work.

“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”

They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case.

“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”

“You got smaller.”

“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind.

Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed.

“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”

Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove.

“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”

“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat.

The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.

“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”

“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes.

------------------------------------

“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool.

Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish.

His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away. He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.

The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.

“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”

Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment.

“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.

“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.”

Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.

“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”

“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind.

“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water.

“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”

“And if I do not?”

“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet.

He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear.

“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”

The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point.

Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.”

“That makes two of us.”

Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”

No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep.

When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm.

------------------------------------

Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed.

“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply.

Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”

“No.”

“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”

Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail.

“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”

His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks.

“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”

Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”

“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”

“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”

“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.

“‘Drid?”

“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze.

“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”

Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster.

“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely.

“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts.

“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”

“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.

“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”

Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”

“It is yours whenever you want it.”

A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.”

“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”

“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.

Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head.

“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”

Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin.

“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain.

“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”

“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole.

“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”

A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”

“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”

A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock.

“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”

“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen.

“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”

Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.

“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle.

The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.

“You okay?”

“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.

“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.

“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.

“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #monster march #reader requests #monster boyfriend #the author says "fuck HP Lovecraft

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ladyhallen · 4 years

Text

The Making of a Sanctuary

Read on AO3

(no link to FFN, because it’s freaking misbehaving. It’s on time out at the moment.)

The first child of the Sanctuary was a boy.

He was a street urchin but Harry, passing by him on the street, felt the magic and paused. With a distracted air, Harry rummaged through his bags and produced a piece of bread.

Harry handed the child the bread and left.

But the child remembered.

The next day, when Harry realized that he needed more cheese, he passed by the same child and gave him another piece of bread.

The child devoured the bread, latched on to Harry’s cloak, and then doesn’t let go.

Harry looked at the boy with complete and utter bewilderment and just sighed. He found it a bit difficult to say no to children. It was a really bad weakness that was exploited with the puppy eyes mercilessly.

They’re like locusts and multiply.

The first child grabbed another one, and another one, and before Harry knew it, there’s an entire group of children living with him.

“We can’t keep living off of bread and cheese,” Harry said with some shock, because he hadn’t realized how many children there were with him. “And oh Merlin, what are you all wearing?”

The first one gave him a look, being bolder and less afraid of him. “It’s better than sleeping cold.”

Because of course, everyone was sleeping by the fireplace. Why hadn’t he noticed? He knew he could get preoccupied inside his head, being in the past made it especially worse, but this was ridiculous. By his count, there were fifteen children around him, eagerly pressing into each other for warmth.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he groaned. “I know I can get distracted, but this is ridiculous.”

With a wave of his wand, he conjured them all some blankets. It would disappear in two hours but it was better than the rags everyone was wearing.

“Now, let’s fix this. Rooms, right,” he muttered. But I also need some wood.” He glanced out and smiled. “How convenient, there’s a forest right there.”

Harry worked with a lot of children scurrying around underfoot.

Magic may have made things easier, but it didn’t fix everything. He still had to chop up the wood with precise slicing spells, peel off the bark and then speed up the drying process. Afterwards, measuring and then covering everything in varnish.

All the while, the idea of dorm rooms entered his mind and he knew how he wanted things to look like. Because he might not have planned for children, but these children only had him.

Next, he enlarged the space as he worked.

It took immense focus but he knew that it could happen. Newt Scamander could fit an entire world inside his suitcase, Harry could fit entire dormitories behind his pantry.

“What are we going to do for beds?” Simon, the first child, asked him.

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “I can make beds, we have enough wood to make furniture for all those rooms. It will require cotton and cloth though.”

That was a thought. Harry needed cotton and cloth and they also needed more food than just bread and cheese. Harry…might have to buy some animals.

“What do we need?” Harry murmured, sitting on the floor and surrounded by a circle of children as they divided a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese. There was also a bowl of vegetable soup, one of the few things he could make without burning down the kitchen. It was a testament to how tired everyone was with the bread and cheese that the soup had absolutely no leftovers.

“Clothes,” Lina said, looking at her ratty old shirt. “A place to wash.”

“Food,” Simon piped in.

Harry could go to gardens and get some seedlings, no need to buy things. Some places even had wild vegetables and a good Point Me charm would solve that. He also needed clothes, bed sheets, mattresses and winter clothes - it was getting colder.

The animals though. He could buy them in the muggle world so it would be cheaper, but it would take some money, which he did not have.

“We need to brew,” he sighed. “Who knows how to chop?”

Harry took one week teaching the children different potion techniques.

Slicing, dicing, chopping and their differences were taught. He never realized children had such attention spans. They practiced on vegetables and Harry’s soup making skills were getting better and better.

“Okay, that’s sufficient. Now, we need potion ingredients and a good store to sell our potions afterwards,” he said.

The only store that would accept such shady practices (because you needed a license to brew, which Harry absolutely does not have) would be one in Knockturn Alley.

This time, he placed his foot down. “You’re all staying in the house. Where I’m going is not good for children.”

As one, they all rolled their eyes at him but did not argue.

It took more than a hundred potions before their funds could be sufficient and Harry gained a permanent wrinkle in his forehead from the stress. Being in charge of the health and well-being of more than a dozen little individuals was very stressful, especially if you were an unlicensed time-traveler.

Harry bought two pairs, a male and a female, for each animal. There were pigs, cows and chickens for their produce, which would help immensely for the food problem. He also bought sheep for their wool.

“Flax seeds,” he remarked, looking at his list. “I think I found the solution to the cloth problem.”

Flax seeds were unmagical and could be fast grown and fast harvested. Then, he figured out how to enchant a loom to weave it into bolts of cloth.

“It’s so pretty,” Katy said with awe. “But. Harry, isn’t it a bit boring, to be plain white?”

Harry looked at them all and was encountered with a dozen puppy eyes.

“…Dye’s. A lot of them,” he muttered reluctantly.

He pretended not to see the children exchanging a high-five behind him.

It would be so much easier, Harry realized halfway into transforming his house into a secret place for orphaned and neglected children, if he had someone to work with.

But given that what he was doing was breaking about a hundred laws, he really didn’t want to implicate someone with him.

His kitchen was already a teeming mess of food and soup was always bubbling in the stove, somehow never boiling over and also never running out, no matter how many children ladled out bowls.

His pantry was always expanding, meat and eggs somehow multiplying without his knowledge. And milk was never running out.

His vegetable garden never seemed to run out of produce either, carrots, beans and potatoes always popping out of the ground whenever he needed some.

His cloth room, formerly just housing one lonely loom and one lonely dye area, was having three stations and continually making more bolts of cloth than he knew what to deal with.

Even the Potion’s area was expanding, somehow having fifteen working stations and ten rows of potions cupboards organized alphabetically.

Something was always going on and he was permanently frowning with worry.

Children weren’t supposed to learn how to brew advanced high grade potions at the age of eight, nor were they supposed to know how to cook, clean, do laundry or tend to plants.

But the children he had gotten were all mature beyond their years, scars marking them from the very people who were supposed to love them unconditionally. And they all loved Harry and knew he was doing his best to give them a home.

Harry eventually realized by the time he had fifty children that he needed to set an age limit.

Because if he didn’t, none of the children would ever really leave and then he would be stuck with a hundred of them. He loved them and he knew that the Sanctuary was supposed to be a place to have a childhood.

So he started setting up apprenticeships.

Simon, a budding arithmancer, got an apprenticeship to a wardmaster. Lina with her sewing skills was apprenticed to Madame Malkin. Jessica, the sweet child, was apprenticed to a librarian until she realized what she wanted.

All of the children needed help and he set out and found them work and different houses. And all of them realized this and quietly packed their bags and left.

Harry still kept in contact with them via owls and the occasional visit. And he missed them even if there were always new children coming to him. But he never mourned. Because it was at this time that he started noticing something.

The Sanctuary was starting to gain sentience.

It made some sense, given that once an object was in magical presence long enough and loved enough, they tended to gain a personality.

The Sanctuary had housed a lot of children and all of them loved it in their own way. And all of those children had been magical.

By the time he realized what was harvesting the garden, cleaning the house, unclogging the toilets and keeping the kitchen stocked, he had gone through three generations and there was an unofficial network of people that apprenticed his children without his prompting. People he remembered, children he remembered, all of them growing old, but…he remained the same.

“Circe’s wand, what have I created?” he murmured.

A singularity. He had created a singularity because the children needed him.

Hogwarts, while just as loved, was not a singularity but a nexus. It didn’t exist beyond time like the Sanctuary, but it had a draw to it that made it attractive to everyone. His Sanctuary, on the other hand, existed only to those who needed it.

Harry knew that if he spent decades away from the Sanctuary, he would start to age. The children were immune, the Sanctuary didn’t own them in the way it owned Harry. His blood and his magic went into the house. The children were only guests.

He had accidentally bound himself to a singularity and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Harry started to have no concept of time.

Oh, he knew the days were passing, and he knew what month it was. But the years passing by he viewed them as just any other day.

He didn’t really need to keep track of holidays, the house decorated itself and nudged him to remember. He only really remembered about the start of term, because all those children needed him for book shopping. Two months before the start of term, he would start a frenzy of brewing just to be able to afford everything.

Thank Merlin that Wizarding Currency hasn’t changed since the Goblin Wars.

All the children that passed, he remembered. The memories might be blurry, but he knew all of them. He kept memory strands for each child, in case his memory ever faltered.

And then Tom Riddle requested Sanctuary and Harry became acutely aware of the passing of time.

Cute, teenage dark lords with wounded, angry eyes and a desperate need for praise.

Cute, teenage dark lords, who looked at the Sanctuary and seemed not to understand the age limit.

Cute, teenage dark lords, who wanted to stay forever.

Harry would bang his head on the wall if the House would allow it.

When he’d accidentally travelled back in time, he had a plan.

Buy a house, keep quiet and don’t make any trouble.

Looking up at the deceptively small house, he knew that plan was thrown out the window since the first child looked up at him and tugged at his cloak.

“Harry!” called a young, high voice. “Harry, I already rang the dinner bell, didn’t you hear?”

“I’m coming!” he yelled back, pausing briefly to pluck an apple tree that he’s sure he did not plant there.

The Sanctuary was sentient and it had absolutely no qualms in growing how it wanted, asking no input from Harry.

This was not in his plans, but he had no complaints.

#fanfiction #harry potter #tom riddle #sequel to the Sanctuary and the Bar #time travel #my writing #hp #hp post

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 4 years

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the best by far is you: chapter 4

Read chapter 4 on AO3

Read from beginning on AO3

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie's story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the battle of Culloden.

HUGE THANKS to @let-the-dream-begin for the beautiful moodboard!

Chapter 4

September 1744

“She’s a right beautiful bairn.” Jenny bounced wee Faith gently in her arms. She hadn't stopped smiling since they arrived back at Lallybroch nearly an hour ago with the newest addition to their family. “Ye did good, Claire.”

Claire leaned her head back against Jamie where they stood by the hearth, watching Jenny, Ian, and their nephew and niece become acquainted with their daughter. Claire eyed Maggie where she was being bounced on her father’s knee and marveled at how she’d grown from the newborn Claire had last seen to the hearty and cherubic girl of ten months now, all dark hair and eyes, rosy cheeks and baby fat rolls.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Faith’s sudden sneezing fit and Claire immediately propelled herself forward, only to feel herself pulled back sharply to Jamie’s chest, his arms going around her waist. “She’s alright, Claire.” He whispered in her ear as he effectively anchored her in place. She tried to slow her racing heart and relax into Jamie’s grip. None of the Murrays noticed, in part because of the truth of Jamie’s words; Faith was alright and keeping her family members utterly captivated with her as her sneezing ceased. Even though she looked now like any other infant, albeit smaller for her age, Claire would never forget the shock of how impossibly tiny Faith was when they placed her in Claire’s arms. “She’s alright.” Claire whispered, more to herself than in acknowledgement of Jamie. Still, she felt the press of his lips at her temple in reassurance and savored this moment with their family finally restored at Lallybroch and Jamie home at last without worry of a price on his head.

A joyous shout from the courtyard caught Claire’s attention and she peered out the window to see Fergus and Rabbie already forming a fast friendship. Her heart warmed at the sight. Little Rabbie MacNab would always have a soft spot in Claire’s heart, who she remembered all too vividly bearing the marks of abuse on his small body left by his no-good father. He belonged here at the farmhouse, where he would be treated with dignity and kindness. And, watching his scrappy, Parisian playfellow, Claire came to the same conclusion about Fergus; he deserved a childhood in the safety of Lallybroch, where he wouldn’t be starved or neglected or abused. No, those once love-starved boys deserved so much more than the difficulties they’d already overcome.

“Jamie, look.” Claire said softly, sharing the scene with him. He caught sight of Fergus and Rabbie and chuckled.

“Weel, there’s trouble if ever I saw it.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Aye, well, ye didna ken me and Ian at that age.”

She laughed at this. “Yes but I’ve heard plenty of stories.” She leaned back in his arms and turned to kiss his cheek. “And a child should have a best friend, shouldn’t he?”

“I’ll no’ disagree with ye there, Sassenach.”

They swayed together in place, both gazes returning to the Murray family before them. Jenny held the baby up to wee Jamie’s face so he could give her a kiss, as he’d asked. When she resettled the baby in the crook of her arm, Jenny’s gaze caught Claire’s. “I told ye, didn’t I?” She said with a particular gleam in her eyes. “I told ye you’d have one of yer own soon enough.”

Claire smiled softly at the memory, sitting on the steps outside of Lallybroch with Jenny, sharing their delight over Maggie, their worry over Jamie and Ian. It was the moment Claire knew what it must be like to have a sister’s love and she found herself swallowing thickly now with the wave of emotions tied up in that day. “And Faith was already there when you said it, I just didn’t know it yet.”

The real surprise of their return had been finding Jenny already five months gone into her third pregnancy. She’d smiled coyly when Jamie and Claire noticed and said she’d thought it’d be better news in person.

“But… Christ, wee Maggie’s only ten‒”

Claire had cut Jamie’s comment off with a loud “We’re so excited for you!” and that had been that, although she caught Jamie giving Ian an incredulous look on their way inside.

It did rather make Claire’s head spin at the thought. Two babies only fifteen months apart. And here at Lallybroch now, Faith would be sandwiched between them in age. Oh, they were about to have their hands full...

Jenny was certain it was a boy, a little playmate for wee Jamie, but she’d said the same thing about Maggie and Claire felt no pull one way or another. Because it would be wonderful, either way. She never had any of this growing up. Only her parents for a bit and then it was just her and Uncle Lamb. But Faith would never know what that was like. She’d have her aunt and uncle and, if their growing brood was any indication of the future, an abundance of cousins to keep her company. Not to mention Murtagh and Fergus and…

Claire leaned back in Jamie’s arms and tilted up to kiss his jaw where a bit of stubble already scratched at her lips. Yes, maybe someday… another baby or two. Not twelve, she thought wryly, but three sounded reasonable enough.

The rhythm of life at Lallybroch felt all too soothing after the double lives they’d lived in Paris and here, in Jamie’s ancestral estate, a wall came down in both of them, knowing there wasn’t anyone here they needed to guard themselves from.

“The next Quarter Day is in a few weeks. It’ll be good tae have Jamie here to oversee the books for that. And o’ course to help Ian and the rest of the men with the potato crop soon.” Jenny shook out a sheet before hanging it on the clothesline. Claire and Jamie had fallen right into step with the daily goings on and Jenny wasted no time expecting them to keep up.

Claire eyed the potato field apprehensively. It had been on her recommendation, after all, that Jenny and Ian had planted a whole crop that had never once been native to this region and if it didn’t yield a good bounty for them, she may have set them up to fare even worse in the coming famine.

“Ye ken Mrs. Crook could help wi’ wee Faith ‒ mind her throughout the day as she does wi’ my bairns. Ye dinna always need to do it all yerself.”

At Jenny’s words, Claire’s hands fell instinctively to Faith’s little form bundled up in a wrap secured to Claire’s body. Snug and sleepy after her last feeding, Faith hadn’t made a peep since they stepped outside to do the laundry. “I know.” Claire said softly. “But I don’t mind having her with me.” She peered under the cloth to see Faith had indeed fallen asleep and the sight of her baby’s sleeping face had some unnamed relief washing through her.

“Jamie told me how it was.” Jenny said carefully. She tugged a large sark of Ian’s into place on the clothesline and arranged it neatly. “Told me how sickly Faith was when she was born. I ken that’s why ye worry over her so much.”

Claire gave Jenny a small smile in acknowledgement of her words and reached for the next article to hang on the line. “Did you feel that way when wee Jamie was born?”

“Oh, aye. I did worry over him. Ye always do over the first one, I think. No matter if they’re healthy or no’. But he was an easy bairn, even if the delivery was long. I dinna ken what it’s like, what ye went through with Faith, but the most scairt I’ve ever been was with my Maggie, when she wouldn’t come and well… ye ken, ye were there for that.”

“Yes,” Claire settled one hand on Faith as she worked, unnecessary as it was with the baby secured well. “I don’t think either of us will forget that any time soon.”

“These bairns like to make their entrance memorable, that’s for sure.” Jenny caught her gaze and smiled warmly. “Ye’re doing just fine, Claire. I’ve never seen my brother so happy. To have a bairn of his own… well, it does him good to be a father and it does my heart good to see it.”

“Thank you, Jenny. About‒ about Quarter Day and the harvest and… all of it really, I don’t‒ that is‒” Claire took a deep breath, tried to smile as she fumbled through this. Jenny watched her expectantly, pausing in her work. “The first time Jamie brought me here, we thought it would be for good, but you and I got off on a bumpy start and I felt then that I needed to rise to the challenge of being Lady Broch Turach, but now…” Claire gave a small shrug. “I can admit I don’t know anything still about running a house such as this, but I want to learn. And I don’t want to step on your toes, either, when you’ve run this place so flawlessly. I mean, this is your home and you’ve‒”

“Tis your home, too.” Jenny interrupted, though not unkindly and stating this so matter-of-factly. Claire hesitated, always caught a little off-guard by Jenny Fraser Murray. “I didna ken what to make of ye when Jamie first brought ye home.” She added with a tinge of reluctance in her voice and Claire knew that was about as close as she might get to an apology for how their relationship started. “But ye’re a good woman, Claire. Ye love my brother, that’s plain as day. And ye’ve given him something that has made him whole.” Her gaze flicked down to the outline of Faith and she flashed Claire a quick smile. “I’m happy to share this place with ye.” She said at last, rescuing Claire from the request she’d been struggling to get out.

Claire exhaled a smile and felt her roots burrow a little deeper into the soil.

October 1744

“Big day, Faith.” Claire said sweetly to her baby, despite the apprehensive flutters in her stomach. “I think your uncle and da are going to harvest the potatoes.” She settled five-month-old Faith in the middle of the large bed. Freshly cleaned and diapered, Faith was happy as a lark, cooing loudly back at Claire to find her own voice in their conversation.

“Say your prayers that it’s the best crop of potatoes ever yielded, little darling. Because if not, it’s Mama’s reputation that’s on the line.” Claire tugged open a drawer where they kept all of Faith’s items, tiny and delicate enough that her dresses, nightgowns, stockings, bonnets, and blankets only filled the one drawer. Her hands stilled in their rummage through the wardrobe, falling to a soft pair of warm, brown stockings Claire hadn’t seen before. She picked one up and turned it over delicately. They were clearly hand-knit and meant for Faith, surreptitiously placed among her clothing and blankets.

“Here, darling, these look nice and warm.” Claire turned to where she’d left Faith lying on the mattress. The baby hadn’t yet mastered rolling over, but Jenny had advised Claire to savor these moments while they lasted before Faith was completely mobile and would require constant supervision. “Looks like your auntie made these for you.” She slid one onto Faith’s foot and up her leg. “And a perfect fit, too.” She carried on for the reward of another happy coo from the baby, all too content to be part of a conversation.

She dressed Faith in enough layers to keep out the Autumn chill and still grabbed a wool blanket for good measure. “And last but not least…” Claire slipped a white bonnet onto Faith’s head, a little dismayed to cover up the silky, copper strands of Faith’s downy-like hair. She paused, leaning over her babe, who stared up at her and kicked her legs when Claire returned her gaze.

A memory came to her then, unbidden, of a conversation in this very room that occurred almost a year ago now; her confession to Jamie of her once held belief that they could never have children. The evidence to the contrary now lay before her, face breaking open into a smile that reverberated through the baby’s whole body, little arms and legs flailing, and Claire felt suddenly overwhelmed. Their wee girl, a fulfillment of so many dreams. She had healed Claire’s heart just by existing.

So Claire scooped her up, pressing kisses to the baby’s feather-soft cheek. “I could smother you with kisses and it’d never be enough.” She admitted to the baby, feeling a few tears spill quietly down her face. “I love you so much.” She knew she couldn’t just sit with these feelings, with this miracle baby in her arms, or she’d never make it out of the room today. So she wiped her tears and pressed another kiss to Faith’s brow for good measure. “Let’s go find Da, alright?”

They found Jamie with Ian and Fergus and a few of the men standing at the base of the potato field. Fergus stood at Jamie’s elbow and hung on every word of what appeared to be a discussion of timing for when to harvest the potatoes. It had never been done before at Lallybroch and being a root vegetable, it was anyone’s guess as to when the plant might be ready.

Jamie was the first to notice her approaching and he broke away from the group to meet her, smiling broadly.

“What’s the verdict?” She asked as he stole Faith from her. She missed the solid weight of the girl, but Jamie with their babe was a sight she never tired of.

Jamie sighed in response to her question and gave Faith a hearty kiss on the cheek before answering. “Ian is consulting his book. It isna exactly clear though.”

She slipped an arm around his waist and stood flush against his side, savoring his warmth and the way he blocked the wind for her. He shifted Faith high against his chest, her weight supported on one of his arms. In the transfer, her blanket began to unbundle from around her and her little feet kicked out the bottom, clad in her stockings and soft slippers. Jamie’s fingers tugged the blanket down and around her feet without looking, though Claire noticed he stopped when he felt the baby’s stockings and tilted his head to the side to try and catch a glimpse of them. He looked rather pleased and Claire wondered if he knew who the mysterious gifter was.

“I think Jenny made those.” She said. “They look handmade, at least, and I only just found them today among Faith’s things.” When she glanced up at Jamie, he was giving her an odd look. “What?”

“Jenny didna make those. I did.”

Claire worked hard to school her surprise at this, but her glass face probably showed this all too clearly to her husband. “You know how to knit?”

Now it was Jamie’s turn to look mildly surprised, though he hid it well and finally gave her a soft, gracious smile. “Every man, woman, and child old enough to hold the needles can knit, Sassenach. Dinna tell me no one kens how to clickit in your time.”

“Well, no, people still knit where I’m from. I just... never learned. Would‒ would you teach me?” She asked, a little embarrassed. A full smile bloomed on Jamie’s face and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead before he answered her.

“Aye, I’ll teach ye.” He straightened, looking again very pleased. “It’ll be a good time to learn when we’re inside for the long winter.”

Claire’s eyes dropped to the little brown stocking peeking out slightly from under the blanket. She toyed with the fabric gently. “They’re beautifully made, Jamie. And they fit her perfectly.” She cocked her head up at him. “When on earth did you have time to make these?”

He ducked from her glance and bounced the baby in his arms. “Weel ye ken as well as I that this lass doesna sleep much since we subjected her to sea travel, a frightfully long wagon ride to Lallybroch, and then a new home.”

“It was a lot all at once.” Claire agreed, eyeing him curiously. They hadn’t had close to a good night’s sleep since Paris, but it was still too fresh in both of their minds how lucky they were to even have a baby keeping them up at night for them to mind the sleeplessness too much.

“And ye ken of course that she willna fall asleep unless you or I hold her.”

Claire chewed her lip and nodded. She knew it was unusual in her time at least to be so wrapped up in a child. But what would surely be labeled as “coddling” then felt anything but that here, especially in an era where infant mortality was dreadfully high. Still, somehow the virtues of another time occasionally plagued Claire, making her second guess if 20th century parents and experts really understood what it meant to know the child of your heart was alive and well and crying out to be held and only the comfort of your embrace could soothe them. In that moment, it didn’t feel like she and Jamie were doing anything but loving their child.

“Well,” Jamie continued. “Lately when it’s my turn wi’ the lass, I know she’ll sleep as long as I hold her and if I put her down too soon, she’ll wake all over again. So I started bringing the knitting needles out when I settle in the chair wi’ her. Gives me something to do while I wait for her to sleep soundly enough.”

Claire could see it suddenly, her husband sitting up in the middle of the night with the baby asleep on his shoulder, passed out from the warmth that he could so easily envelop her in, while he knit her a pair of stockings. Christ, he probably held it up to her tiny legs to compare while he worked and that would explain why they fit Faith like a glove. The thought made her want to weep for all the love she felt for him and all the tenderness and care he bestowed upon her and their babe.

He must’ve read it all there in her face because Jamie smiled suddenly and bent to kiss her.

“Does it bother your hand at all?” She thought with sudden concern. It had been the better part of a year since his right hand had been mutilated and though he’d made great lengths in his recovery, it wasn’t completely painless and Claire feared it might always bother him.

“No, Sassenach, it doesna hurt. My fingers do get a bit stiff if I hold the needle too long, but it doesna hurt.” She realized her brows must still be furrowed in concern because he bent and kissed her there as if to soothe her. “Besides, it gets awful cold here in the winter and Faith is so wee. What kind of Da would I be if I didna provide her with warm enough clothes?”

He seemed to think this all perfectly reasonable and nodded sharply in the direction of the men to indicate that they should return to them, putting any talk of his knitting habits to rest for now.

He moved with surety to rejoin the men, Faith still tucked in one arm. His free hand came to rest automatically on Fergus’s thin shoulder when he reached the group and Claire didn’t miss the look of awe on Fergus’s face that this simple act gave him.

Ian still held open his book, A Scientific Treatise on Methods of Farming, by Sir Walter O’Bannion Reilly, and was busy skimming pages. He smiled grimly at Jamie and shook his head.

“Ah.” Jamie muttered. “A whole book on the scientific farming of potatoes and no mention of how ye tell when the bloody things are ready to eat.”

Ian snapped the book shut and let it rest against his side. Fergus glanced between the two of them and finally spoke up. “Why don’t you just dig one up and see?” He asked.

Jamie stared at Fergus for a moment. His mouth gaped open until he suddenly snapped it shut and clapped Fergus affectionately on the shoulder. Jamie then carefully transferred Faith back into Claire’s arms and went to fetch a pitchfork from its place against the fence. The men pushed in behind him ‒ as did Claire, holding her breath all the while ‒ as Jamie chose a flourishing vine near the edge of the field and dug the pitchfork in near the root.

He pushed the handle down and away, uprooting the vine in one swift motion. More bodies pushed in, staring curiously at the dirt-caked potatoes clinging to the roots. Ian fell to his knees with surprising ease for one wooden leg and began to loosen the dirt around the potatoes, spouting enough shouts of excitement over the results of his labor that the breath Claire had been holding left her in a rush of relief.

Her gaze met Jamie’s and a smile bloomed just for him. Their work in Paris may have been a bitter disappointment, but maybe this… yes, maybe this work they could do.

They called for a feast with the tenants of Lallybroch to celebrate the wealth of their new potato crop. In no time at all, Jenny had orchestrated their outdoor supper, roasting the potatoes and, at Fergus’s suggestion, supplying them with a heaping of fresh butter.

Their new Highland cuisine was met with first suspicion and then varying tastes for it once the roasted potatoes had been given a chance. But none of that could steal away Claire’s joy, knowing what was to come. And if the famine did come, no one would thumb their nose at these potatoes then. These folks would be safe.

The evening was chilly but windless and as the sun began its slow crawl toward the horizon, the fire was built up to a roaring blaze that they all naturally flocked to.

Claire had gone into the farmhouse to feed and change Faith and returned to their party as it was growing darker. The firelight cast an orange glow on the faces of those gathered around.

“Auntie!” Wee Jamie screamed when he saw her, running out to meet her. She saw only the dark outline of him moving in the grass.

“Yes, love?”

But wee Jamie only held out his hand to escort her back to the fire. She anchored Faith on one hip and reached for the little boy’s hand.

“You are just like your namesake, aren’t you? Such a gentleman.”

The boy caught his uncle’s gaze from where he sat in the grass, sandwiched between Fergus and Ian. Jamie nodded approvingly and the young boy shot a beaming smile up at Claire.

“I want to hold the baby.” The boy said, before Claire had even reached a spot on the grass.

“You can, just wait and I’ll help you.” She carefully lowered herself to a spot near the fire and stretched her legs out in front of her, adjusting her skirt with one hand as she did. Wee Jamie was waiting, gently stamping his feet in the grass next to her. “Come here, you.” She said finally and helped him into her lap. Faith was bundled up in a thick blanket so it made it easy to pass the bundle of her into little Jamie’s lap. Claire clasped her hands in front around the both of them and sighed contently.

The fire was warm and the company of their tenants created a rousing atmosphere with stories and laughter and even some singing. Claire fell into rapt silence, becoming an observer to it all.

But Faith began to fuss, even with Claire helping to bounce her and wee Jamie in her lap. “I’m done holding her.” Jamie said suddenly, his little arms slithering out from under Faith.

“Alright, alright, hold on.” Claire’s one-handed grip on Faith tightened and she pulled the baby off of Jamie’s lap. But the boy had no desire to leave his auntie’s lap, effectively pinning her in place as he leaned his head back against her chest and yawned.

She caught her husband’s approach from the corner of her eye and crouched down next to her, pressing a kiss to her hard. “I’ll walk wi’ her, Sassenach, and see if that will calm her. You’ve got your hands full wi’ our nephew.”

“That I do.” She agreed. When he lifted Faith from her arm, she brushed his shoulder gently before he rose to his feet. Freed of one small body occupying her lap, she slid her hands under the boy’s armpits and recentered young Jamie in her lap and folded her legs in. He curled in, his head pillowed against her chest, and her arms went about his small form to secure him there. “Better?” She teased him affectionately.

“Yes, Auntie.” He answered in all seriousness. She exhaled a quiet laugh and dropped a kiss to his hair, which smelled of campfire smoke. She could see he was watching the fire, hypnotized by the flames and likely to fall asleep on her before too long, and he was a comforting weight in her arms, anchoring her to the ground.

“You know,” She said lightly. “I rather like having you as my nephew.”

Wee Jamie tipped his head up and smiled mischievously, like she’d let him in on a secret. “I like ye, Auntie Claire.” He said plainly.

“Good, I’m glad.” She smiled. “Lay your head, sweet boy. I know you’re tired.”

She rocked slightly with him and glanced about, happy to see the tenants all enjoying themselves but looking for their laird in particular. She spotted him a little ways back from the fire, standing in place with Faith in his arms, but Fergus was with them, too, popping out from behind Jamie’s back to make a face at Faith every few seconds. It was eighteenth century peek-a-boo but Claire doubted they called it that. She did watch the three of them, though, and wonder how far back that game had endured through the centuries.

Jamie smiled broadly and jounced Faith slightly every time Fergus popped around at his elbow. She couldn’t see Faith’s reaction to this, but if Jamie’s and Fergus’s faces were any indication, their girl was far from fussy now. Claire’s gaze lingered on the bright face of Fergus, playing sweetly with the babe. He had blossomed at Lallybroch in the month that they’d been back, growing accustomed to a quiet, country life with ease. He played with Rabbie and helped with the horses and always, always shadowed every step of Jamie’s.

She had noticed, too, a marked change in how Jamie interacted with the boy since he returned to them a few months ago. There was an added protectiveness over Fergus and no short amount of affection for him. Yes, the mark of fatherhood on Jamie Fraser was evident for anyone to see and it extended far beyond Faith.

Jamie caught her gaze suddenly and her stomach fluttered. She gave him a smile and hoped to convey in it how much she loved this moment in time with him.

The sun was setting low in the sky, burning deep orange at the horizon with streaks of pink and purple fading up to the blue. Jamie had gone searching for his wife and found Claire in the garden and laced their fingers together before walking out toward the nearest field behind the farmhouse. He didn’t say a word, but she thought she knew he was leading her out on a sunset walk. The evening was too beautiful to waste and the desire simply to be in each other’s company hadn’t dimmed in their year and a half of marriage. The baby was napping inside the farmhouse and under the care of her auntie for the time being. They ambled along through the heather, their strides fairly matched, and Claire tucked herself a little closer to him when the breeze picked up.

He dropped her hand in favor then of tucking her under one arm and her own went around his waist and squeezed him. It wasn’t a position that lent itself well to walking side-by-side, but they’d reached the small crest of a hill and paused against the fencing to stare out at the setting sun casting golden light on the whole estate of Lallybroch.

“So beautiful, it should be a painting.” Claire finally broke the spell of silence. Jamie made a sound of agreement. She looked up at him but his gaze was on the scene before them. The angle of light cut across his strong features, made him look more like the viking than usual, strong and tall and proud, observing his kingdom. He looked content, too, not just today, but every day since they’d come back to Scotland. To his home. Jamie was laird here and that was no small thing to him, Claire knew. A laird and soldier, husband and father… he carried his responsibility without question or hesitation and it wasn’t any wonder why so many people trusted him and relied on him. What was a wonder to Claire was that he was only twenty-three.

Jamie cast a glance down suddenly and she felt her cheeks grow warm at being caught. Claire ducked and kissed his shoulder softly but found him still waiting her out when she glanced back up at him. His fingers were at her temple suddenly, tucking a few wayward wisps of hair behind her ear before tilting her chin up further. “Ye do look so bonny this evening, Sassenach.” He said with a smile before he stole a kiss from her. “What’s troubling you?”

She let out a mirthless chuckle. “How do you always do that?”

“Ye canna hide anything from me with your face.” He teased her.

“I was just thinking… if… if we didn’t succeed in Paris and the rising still begins‒”

“We willna have any part of it.” Jamie cut in firmly. His arm around her tightened instinctively. “I wish… God, I wish I kent for sure that we’d changed things from how ye remember them in your time. I dinna want the slaughter of my countrymen. But if it does come, I mean to keep us all safe and away from it.”

Claire sighed and tucked herself against him, feeling an odd swirl of relief and dread at the same time. They did what they could, but so much of what she knew of history felt too powerful for them to steer on their own. “You seem happy here at Lallybroch… are you?” She asked suddenly, pulling back to look up at him.

“Happy to stay here, ye mean?” Jamie clarified and did a sweep of the land. “Well, it’s home, Sassenach. And I’m the laird so I should be here, but…” He cocked an eyebrow at her curiously. “It’s not an exciting life. It can’t offer ye the society of Paris or the large surgeries you’ve worked in.”

“I could do well without the society of Paris.” She said dryly. “And it’s… it’s different than what I’ve known before, but there is work for me here. God knows you injure yourself enough to keep me busy no matter where we are. I’m sure between you and all the tenant families here, I’ll have my hands full.”

“And ye’ll have your wee garden.” He added, referring to the stretch of ground that he’d recently marked out for her to be able to plant her wee herbs, come Spring.

“I will.” She reached up on tiptoes to kiss him along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble on her lips. “And I am Lady Broch Turach, after all. This is my place, too.”

“Aye, it is.” She caught his all-too-pleased look before his kiss was pushing every other thought out of her mind and there was only Jamie in her arms and on her lips.

She startled when he held her by the waist and lifted her up onto the fence post as though she weighed nothing. “Jamie!” Unperturbed by her outcry, he stepped between her thighs and cupped her face in his hands. She had to hold fast to him to keep herself steady. “Jamie. We’re on a hill. Any one of your tenants could step out of their home and see us up here.”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach.” He teased with a smile. “I dinna intend to let anyone see ye in any matter of indecency. Least of all our tenants, my Lady Broch Turach.” He kissed her then, a dizzying distraction to any argument she might’ve made. “It’s only that ye look so beautiful out here wi’ the sun in your brown hair.” He paused and then smiled softly. “Mo nighean donn.” He added for emphasis. His brown-haired lass. “Aye, ye look like you belong here. Like you’ve always been a part of this place, somehow. And I just needed to kiss you for it.”

She felt a sudden lump in her throat at his words and, forgetting her previous self-consciousness, pulled him back in, needing to kiss him for it.

#outlander #outlander fic #jamie x claire #faith fraser #OL fic #my fic #tbbfiy

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five-miles-over · 4 years

Text

‘Gladiator’ Characters as Pies

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

@we-were-electrocute, thanks for requesting this!!!

Maximus: Pecan Apple Pie

My least favorite character in Gladiator would be best paired up with a pecan apple pie. I think he’s a bit nuts on the outside as a soldier who literally has no filter on his mouth, but on the inside he’s just a farmer who wants to go home to his harvest. The apples are a gentle nod to the kitchen garden waiting for him in Spain (Hispania).

Lucilla: Lemon Meringue Pie

Lemon is such a sunny and bright flavor, just like Princess Lucilla is an intelligent, sunny individual in her father’s eyes. (I said her father’s eyes, not everyone else’s)

The meringues on the top of this pie may look delicate, but they are quite challenging to make and need just the right amount of strength to whip the egg whites into perfect peaks. Just like these meringues, Lucilla has the right amount of strength and intelligence to carry out the whims of the Senate while remaining close to her family.

Marcus Aurelius: Banoffee Pie

A banoffee pie is an English dessert made with cream, banana slices, and toffee (as you can tell from the name.) The toffee is a bit of an homage to one of Richard Harris’s other roles - Albus Dumbledore in the first and second Harry Potter films. One of his quotes in the first film is, “I think I’ll be safe with a nice toffee.”

Moreover, the sweetness of the bananas and the rich, buttery flavour of the toffee would remind Marcus Aurelius about the richness of Rome’s history and the sweetness of the four years of peace during his regime.

I can imagine him enjoying a slice of banoffee pie during a quiet afternoon while finishing a book. Or perhaps as a treat after a light dinner.

Lucius: Spanakopita Pie

Spanakopita is a Greek pastry with a spinach filling - typically served as an appetizer. (And in my opinion, it is delicious!) You’re probably wondering why I’d pick a spinach pie for someone like Lucius, but it’s the buttery and delectable crust that makes it perfect for the golden darling prince. (And kids need their vegetables!)

Senator Gracchus: Margarita Pie

This is basically a key-lime pie with hints of tequila added, which is great for the Senator with sour complaints about almost everything. Also, the traces of alcohol might make him more tolerable to be around.

General Quintus: Blackberry Pie

Not only is the color of the filling of this pie similar to the cape that Rome’s General wears, its tart flavor is just right for the General that knows when to tell the blunt truth. (”People should know when they’re conquered.”

Proximo: Shepherd’s Pie

As a seasoned gladiator trainer and entertainer, Proximo knows what does and doesn’t work when it comes to ‘winning the crowd’. This traditional savoury English pie made with creamy potatoes, sautéed lamb, and vegetables is good for the man who prefers to stick to what he knows best.

Also, he herds his gladiators around like a shepherd herds sheep.

Hagen: Chicken Curry Pot Pie

A chicken curry potpie is meaty, just like the muscles of this Germanic gladiator. And honestly, there is nothing wrong with this dish, except that it seriously deserves more recognition. (Just like this character does for his loyalty and comic relief!)

Juba: Skillet Phyllo Pie with Kale, Butternut Squash, and Goat Cheese

The kale, butternut squash, and goat cheese serves as a hearty mixture for a pie, just like how wholesome Juba’s character is in Gladiator.

Also, this pie is a great vegetarian alternative to the chicken curry pot pie (mentioned above), just like how Juba and Hagen are two different types of devoted friends (the protective friend vs the good-humored, cynical friend).

Emperor Commodus: Red Wine Chocolate Cream Pie or Strawberry Champagne Cream Pie

For our emperor, I’d recommend this pie which combines the bold and dark flavors of red wine and chocolate. The decadent dessert would be an indulgent end to a long day of tiring meetings and exhausting swordplay.

I could see Emperor Commodus asking for one of these pies to be brought to his chambers for him to enjoy as he watches the stars. (A really decadent me-time snack.)

Strawberry champagne cream pie would be ideal for a post-gladiatorial game celebration. The strawberries would make this dessert light enough to end the meal with, while the champagne would be perfect for the Emperor’s soirées.

#commodus thirst squad #gladiator 2000 #commodus headcanon

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edgewaterfarmcsa · 4 years

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FALL CSA WEEK 6

PICK-LIST

SWEET POTATOES - KALE - LETTUCE - CURLY PARSLEY - DELICATA WINTER SQUASH - BROCCOLI - SAVOY CABBAGE - ORNAMENTAL CORN - FENNEL - BOK CHOY - ROMANESCO - RED POTATOES

Ok, now is the time of year where my emotions can really get the best of me and I become very sentimental. This week, the better half of our field crew heads home to Jamaica, and it always makes me a little weepy. Roy, Strong, Ramone, Jasper, and Garnet begin to work with us seasonally starting in May. Their arrival in the Spring marks the beginning of our full bore growing season. Together, we plant, weed, pick, and pack, clean, etc… truly embracing the adage, many hands make light work. And if I knew an old adage about life is better working with people you love, trust, and laugh with, I’d use it here too.

For me personally, this crew makes it possible to farm and parent at the same time. Both the fields and the kiddos demand love and attention. So while Roy, Strong, Ramone, Jasper, and Garnet tend more towards tasks that go into raising good crops, Ray and I (and full disclosure, Grannie Annie (Anne Sprague)) tend more towards the tasks that go into raising (good?) kids.

Also, if you don’t already know, Roy Mitchell in particular, is key in the success of our CSA. He shows up every single Wednesday to assist in the CSA box pack-out. We work together from the start of CSA harvest on Monday to pick-up on Wednesday. After working together for the past 12 years we’ve got our systems in place with potentially too many jokes thrown in along the way. Later today, Roy and I will pack his last CSA box for the year with our Wednesday radio station of choice (97.5 fm) to carry us through.

But it’s mid-November now, and the temps have certainly dropped! By Thursday night these guys will be back in the tropics quarantining until they can step foot into their own homes and reunite with their own families- giving hugs, eating good goat curry and catching up on life. Of course traveling during this time (hello pandemic) feels completely complicated and nothing is without risk, but we are taking all the precautions that we can on our end to get them back home safely. If all goes well- and I have to believe it will- the next 5 or 6 months will move swiftly through winter, into the next growing season and we will all be back in the fields in no time, planting onions, catching up, snacking on donuts, and preparing for the 2021 harvest season.

LASTLY BEFORE WE GET INTO RECIPES, HOT TIPS, ETC….

The final CSA pick up is next week on TUESDAY (this timing should allow for proper Thanksgiving meal prep for all)

HOT TIPS:

KALE SALAD WITH ROASTED SQUASH AND FENNEL

FROM START SIMPLE

The dressing - a mix of maple syrup, lemon juice, and olive oil, plus an optional jolt of ginger- could make anything taste good, and the salad, with its autumnal profile, works just as well in holiday menus as it does in packed weekday lunches… Add some crumbled feta if you’d like a tangy creamy element.

2 cups winter squash cut into bite size pieces

1 to 1 ½ tablespoons maple syrup or honey

3 tablespoons olive oil, divided

2 teaspoons finely grated ginger (optional)

Salt & pepper

1 small fennel, cored

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 large bunch of kale (stemmed and torn into bite size pieces

¼ cup crumbled feta cheese (optional)

Preheat the oven to 425. Spread the squash on a baking sheet, then toss with 1 ½ tablespoons of the olive oil and sprinkle with a big pinch of salt and pepper. Roast until tender, 15-20 minutes, stirring once or twice. Cool.

Whisk together the remaining1 ½ tablespoons of olive oil, the lemon juice, maple syrup or honey, and ginger, if using, in a serving bowl. Cut the fennel into thinnest-possible shavings, preferable using a mandoline or, if not, a very sharp knife. Add the fennel and squash to the bowl with the dressing and stir to coat. Let stand for about 5 minutes, which will soften up the fennel, then add the kale and toss with your hands. Top with cheese if using.

BAKED SWEET POTATO CHIPS

FROM START SIMPLE

2 medium sweet potatoes

1 teaspoon flaky sea salt

2 tablespoons olive oil

pinch crushed red pepper flakes

Zest of 1 lime

Preheat the oven to 425.

Using a mandoline, or if you don’t have one, a chef’s knife, slice the sweet potatoes into rounds about ¼ inch thick. Place in a large bowl, add the oil, and stir to coat evenly. Arrange on a baking sheet in the best single layer you can manage, then transfer to the oven and bake for 10 minutes. Stir and flip, then return to the overn and bake for 5 to 10 minutes more, until most of the chips are crisp and browned (some take on some black spots; thats fine!). Watch carefully towards the end, as they darken quickly.

In a small bowl, mix together the salt and red pepper flakes. Sprinkle over the sweet potatoes chips and zest lime over everything. Serve while they’re still warm. These are best when eaten within a few hours.

roasted broccoli/romanesco

FROM START SIMPLE

JENNY’S NOTE: I don’t know why it took me so long in life to cook broccoli in the oven (vs. steaming). I feel like I’ve been shown the light, and I am so excited to grow old and spend the next 37 years (more? less?) roasting broccoli. It’s Perfect.

Broccoli/Romanesco

freshly ground black pepper

olive oil

Salt

Preheat the oven to 400*

Working close to the stem, cut or snap off large bunches of florets of broccoli or romanesco. Depending on their size, halve or quarter them so that you’ve got a flat surface or two. For the broccoli, use a vegetable peeler or baring knife to remove the thick fibrous skin around the stem, then cut the peeled stem into pieces the same thickness as the florets.

Divide the vegetable between the two baking sheets, then drizzle generously with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and black pepper. Toss to evenly coat, then transfer to the oven and roast until tender and caramelized in parts, 20 to 30 minutes, stirring and rotating the pans once halfway through.

Jenny’s note on start simple by lukas volger:

I can not stress enough how helpful this book has been when it comes to easy GOOD meals. And it highlights all the food that we tend to have so much of this time of year: squash, sweet potatoes, kale, and cabbage. This would be a great addition to your cookbook collection to get you through the year. Nope this is not a paid advertisement- I'm just a lover of this book and it complements a CSA season all too well. I also feel the same way about TENDER by Nigel Slater. If anyone needs any more cook recs, reach out, apparently I’ve just deemed myself an expert.

BOK CHOY:

I am a forever lover of this crisp asian green. Goes great in stir fries, soups, salads, etc..

LETTUCE:

You might come across some browning on the bottom (it was picked on Saturday due to cold nights ahead). This lettuce will continue to stay fresh for a while, just cut back the bottom butt and outer leaves if need be.

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autty0314 · 5 years

Text

If it’s meant to be - Bucky x Reader Ch.5

Summary: You and Bucky are at the restaurant; things get a little heated when you get back to your apartment to say goodbye; Steve and Sam found some more evidence on Rumlow with Natasha’s help.

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut, kissing, mention of an assassin

Word Count: 2033

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We finally get to the restaurant, I forgot how stupid crazy the traffic is in New York, Bucky opens the door for me.

“Thanks Bucky.” I said smiling as we walk into the restaurant, he smiles and goes up to inform the waitress about our reservations.

“Right this way.” She said walking us to a table excluded by the wall. We thank her while we start to sit, Bucky pulls out my seat and then sits me down.

“I heard this place as the best food. Get what you want love.” Bucky said smiling at me. I look over the menu and find INSALATA Invernale, which is Winter Harvest Salad of Sunchoke, Sweet Potato, Caramelized Pear & Spiced Nuts. Very good, it’s three course meal. So that will be my first course of the three. My second course would have to be LASAGNE all'Amatriciana, which is Baked Pasta Layers with Guanciale, Tomato & Peperoncino, and my three courses would have to be TORTINO alla Gianduja con Gelato al Latte di Nocciola Piemontese, which is Chocolate Hazelnut Cake with Piemonte Hazelnut Milk Gelato.

“Good evening Mr. Barnes, what can I get for you started with.?” The waiter asked looking at Bucky,

“Let the miss first, I’m still decided.” Bucky said while smiling at me, I look up at the and smile

“I’d like to do Insalata Invernale, then the second would be Lasagne all’Amatriciana, and lastly Tortino alla Gianduja con Gelato al latte di Nocciola Piemontese.” I put my menu down and look over at Bucky, his face and the waiters face are so surprised that I have said all of that in one breathe without messing up any of the words. Bucky tells the waiter to make it the same, the waiter grabs the menus and walks away.

“When did you learn to speak Italian?” Bucky asked looking at me

“I took a few classes in my college years, I’m getting my masters right now in Literature. I just love the language in other counties and Italian always stuck out to me. I love the culture and the language.” I smile back. We talked for a good hour or so over our dinner, Bucky seems to be really interested in everything we were talking about, when I brought up my family history he seemed to be a bit sad since I never had a good role model since my parents worked all the time.

“So, are you ready to head back?” Bucky asked paying the bill. I smile and nod, we grab our coats from our chairs and start to head out. We get back to my apartment and we are talking outside before we part ways.

“Thank you so much for tonight, I am glad I know a little bit more about you. Your mother and sister sound like a delight. I hope to see you more, I know it’ll be hard before of your job.” I said putting some hair behind my ear. He smiles at me,

“Pleasure was all mine doll, hopefully you can some more of my friends and my family when the time comes.” Bucky says bring my hand up to kiss my hand, I blush at his gesture.

“Well, thank you. I must get ready for bed I have an AM class tomorrow. Good night Bucky.” I said smiling while unlocking my apartment door. I look back one more time to see him smiling at me and walking away after I closed my door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky gets back to his house to see Sam leaning against his door frame.

“Hey man, Steve and I got more entail about Rumlow. He’s a regular at The Rum House. We got to get to the safehouse, we have more planning to do.” Sam says leaning up to stand up straight looking forward toward Bucky. Bucky nods and unlocks his apartment to grab a few items for the meeting, the poison they bought off on of their allies, a Glock 19, and his black leather gloves.

“Let’s go, I got everything I need.” Bucky says locking his apartment back up. Sam and Bucky get into their tinted black SUV. They started on their way there when Sam sparks up a conversation.

“So, how was your date with Y/N. Is she anything like Natasha?” Sam asked looking at the road still.

“No, she is way different, in a good way. She does have a feisty attitude like Nat, but god damn her personality is so innocent and sweet. I am definity going to corrupt her, she going to be mine for good.” Bucky says with a slight smirk on his face. He can see it now, that he’ll have her on knee begging for him to face fuck her. Her begging him to show her what a mod hitman can do to make her feel good.

“Damn, hopefully she doesn’t run away from you like Dot did. The bitch was terrified when you brought her home and she found out what you do for a living.” Sam says parking the car in the driveway.

“Sam, she knows what I am doing for a living. She said if I don’t bring her into the line of fire to get her involved then she doesn’t care. I found my soul mate and she doesn’t care about how I make my money. She also supports me for what I do.” Bucky says looking at Sam while they exit the car. Same snorts at the reply.

“It’s funny, because you are bring her in the line of work. Remember plan A dumbass.” Sam said snickering as they enter the house. Bucky was soon to see how far he can stretch her trust with this one. He doesn’t want to lose her right away because of this incident. He needs to tell her asap and make sure he can do it. He won’t let anyone touch his girl.

---

“Alright, do we know what we are doing?” Tony says looking at his people.

“Yes sir.” All his man agreed, Tony smirks looking at all them with a nod.

“Okay, we attack tomorrow. Barnes, make sure your girlfriend is working so we can assignat him that way, or you’ll be the one killing him later, on your own.” Tony says looking in his direction. Bucky nods and Tony dismisses everyone to get prepared for tomorrow events.

“So, when do you plan on telling Y/N about needing her assistant in this.” Sam said while walking about to SUV with Bucky.

“I’ll have to send her a text, she’s asleep right now. She has class tomorrow morning.” Bucky says pulling out his phone.

‘Hey doll, I am going to pick you up tomorrow after school. I need to discuss a few things with you. Had fun tonight, sleep well love.’ Bucky sends and puts his phone on his pocket getting into SUV. A few minutes later he feels his phone vibrating rapidly in hid jean pocket. He gets his phone out and looks at the caller ID.

Y/N

“Hello?” Bucky answered.

“Hey sweetie, is everything okay? I just woke up to potty.” Y/N answered with a yawn.

“Oh, well yes everything is okay. I just have a huge yet tiny favor to ask you.”

“Okay, what is it? “

“I’d rather ask you in person, instead of over the phone doll.”

“Okay, if you want, you can come over now. My AM class got canceled so I am free until I have to go to work at 5 tomorrow.”

“You want me to. . . Stay the night?”

“If you want, we can watch Netflix or Hulu and hangout. I have some food here if you’re still hungry after we dinner that we have 5 hours ago.”

“Sure, I’ll come. Let me go home first and grab a few things.”

“Alrighty handsome, I’ll see you when you get here.” Y/N said as she hung up the phone. Bucky smiles lightly at his phone, his smiled fades when he hears Sam chuckle beside him.

“What are you laughing at punk?” Bucky asked

“You, dumbass, you are so pussy whipped it’s funny. But hey, I am glad you found your soulmate.” Sam said nonchalantly. Bucky grumbles and looks out the window till they get to his apartment.

“Alright bub, we are here. Stay sharp tomorrow and you may have to convince Y/N a little. If you know what I am.” Sam said wiggling his eyebrows. Bucky rolls his eyes and gets out of the SUV

“Be safe Sam, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bucky said walking inside the apartment complex he lives in. He gets into his apartment and packs a bag to stay the night and his Glock. He wants to be safe then sorry if something happens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I start getting everything set up for my little sleep over with Bucky. I decide to get a little dressed up for him. I slip on my silky shorts and a loose silky tank top to match, I put my hair in a nice top knot bun. I slipped on my troll pink socks. I try to look halfway decent before he came.

Knock. . . knock. . . knock. . .

I smile and walk to my door and open to see Bucky smiling back, I just met the guy and he is giving hella butterflies. I gesture him to walk in my apartment, I lock it behind him and grab his hand lead him back into my room, he looked surprised to see popcorn, and Hulu on the screen.

“If this is too much, I can do something else.” I said looking up at him. He smiles down at me,

“Doll, this is fine. It’s perfect, what are we watching?” Bucky asked taking in my outfit I was wearing,

“Safe Heaven, my favorite chick flick. It reminds me of my past relationship I had with a guy.” I said going over to my bed and patting a spot for him to sit next to her. They start the movie, and getting comfortable cuddling when it starts, Bucky noticed in 30 minutes after the movie started that I start get sleepy.

“Hey love, can I ask you that favor for tomorrow?” Bucky asked

“Whatcha need handsome?” I asked brushing some hair out of Bucky’s face.

“It will help me out in the long run. . . I have been ordered to assassinate Brock Rumlow. He is Hydra, one of the leaders. I was wondering since he comes to your bar every Friday and Saturday if I come sneak a poison into his drink to kill him. It’ll be slow kill him, he will on the streets when it fully kills him. Can you do that for me, I’ll be at your bar with you. I can sneak it to you, I won’t be asking if I didn’t have any other way doll.” Bucky asked boring into my eyes. I stare at him a moment, not sure if he’s serious or kidding.

“Wait. . . Are you serious Buck? What if I get caught with it? I don’t want to be fired or put in jail. . . How would you do it.” I asked Bucky takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.

“You won’t get hurt or go to jail. I’ll be in a small bottle that can be hidden easily. You just pour it in and stir it in. it’ll be flavorless, so he won’t taste it. Please Y/N, I hate to ask but there is no other way.” Bucky says looking deeply in my eyes about it. I thought for a minute.

“Fine.”

Fine? You’ll do it?”

“Yes, just one condition.”

“Anything doll.”

“I want you to take out someone for me. Simple, and your reward can be me.” I said seductively in his ear. He smirks and kisses me gently.

“Anything for you babe.” Bucky says smiling looking back on the TV.

#Bucky Barnes #steve x bucky #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barns x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #steve rodgers imagine #tony stark #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda x reader #wanda #peter parker #peter x reader

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lynnafred · 5 years

Note

farm question: approximately how long does it take for some common crops to grow? specifically, if a group of people were stuck in a mysteriously uninhabited farming town with no access to the outside world, but all the supplies they might need, what kinds of things might they be able to grow to live on?

Hi, Anon! This is a fucking superb ask and I’m glad you asked it! It ended up being a really long writeup, so the crop growth chart has its own post here for you to check out!

As for the rest of your question, it’s going to depend on what the climate is like where they are. In the growth guide, I went into the zone hardiness map a little bit, but I’m happy to answer any questions about that later.

If your characters find themselves in, say, a region that gets cold and doesn’t have a year-round growing climate, they’re going to find themselves looking for and thinking of ways of storing crops throughout the winter. They’ll definitely be growing things like potatoes, sweet potatoes, radishes, beets, carrots, onions, winter squashes, and cabbages that will take them through the winter. They’ll also be looking at growing fruits like apples and pears that will store well over the winter as well. And, assuming that they have all the things they need to grow these items (pruners for the trees, coolers for the apples/pears, a few decent root cellars for their storage crops) it’ll be pretty self-explanatory how to use them once they get into the swing of things.

And, especially if your characters think they might be in this for the long haul, they might want to look into perennial crops, things that’ll come back year after year. Fruits are really great for this, but they require lots of care and pruning to maintain. Apples and pears were mentioned above, and there are summer varieties for those, but they also might be looking at growing (or restoring abandoned!) blueberries, raspberries, grape vines, peach, and nectarine trees. Trees that were poorly maintained can be reinvigorated with a good pruning, but their first few years will be poor producing.

As for veggies, your characters will be stuck munching on the last of the storage crops while they wait for the first of the spring veggies to come in: the first peas and beans of the season can be planted directly into the ground as soon as the ground thaws and there’s no more risk of frost, and shortly after the first beets can be planted. But the first lettuce won’t want to be planted until the ground heats up a little more, about 50 degrees, and then it’ll be safe to start planting the first cucumbers, the first summer squashes, the broccoli and the kale. Once the days start getting longer, in about May, they’ll be able to seed the first tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant, assuming they’re in a climate similar to Southern New England/Central New York.

They’re going to have to think about the timing for their winter crops, as well: planting the winter squashes on a sunny hill when the summer squashes go out, planting cabbages in the heat of early July to ensure a harvest before the first frost in mid-November.

And, as the writer, you’re going to have to ask yourself how they’re growing these things. Are they growing organically, with minimal pest control? Is anyone savvy enough to operate that 1957 International tractor that was forgotten in a barn? Or are they going to have to look at a more no-till approach, where they seed their crops into decaying cover crop residue for weed control and organic matter while they figure out how to use farm machinery?

Are there greenhouses? They can start seeding tomatoes and peppers for greenhouse production in early January if there’s a greenhouse warm enough for the seeds to pop. They can also grow greens throughout the winter, hardy little things like kale and spinach, and maybe some radishes in the early part of the winter season that’ll keep the monotony of more cabbage and sweet potatoes at bay.

If there’s animals around, is anyone taking care of them? Peas and beans have proteins in them, but they’re not complete proteins unless they’re paired with a grain crop like rice, quinoa, or amaranth. Do they integrate their animals with their veggie crops, letting chickens roam through the fields in the fall to eat the fallen veggies and clean out bugs? Do goats and sheep roam through the orchard, nibbling on the fallen apples and keeping the weeds trimmed back? Or are the animals being kept away from the vegetables entirely? Do your characters need to grow grain corn for cows?

I really hope that answered your questions, and please let me know if you’ve got any others! You can DM me if you want, or send another ask. It’s all up to you! :D

#asks #replies #farmblr #writeblr #anon #anonymous #long post

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nomadiisms · 4 years

Text

FIVE THINGS.

TAUBI

5 THINGS YOU’LL FIND IN THEIR BAG

A set of comfortable clothes; a red linen tunic with faded blue hem and embroidery, paired with tan linen pants. No shoes, as he often goes barefoot.

Assorted baked goods and rations; usually things that can keep for a long while, as he is often on the road tracking targets. Sometimes he buys pastries from towns he enters (or makes some of his own) because he loves sweets. His most carried vegetables are potatoes and carrots, and he will often hunt small game to combine with them into stews.

A machete; having been raised on a sugar cane farm, he knows that some plants are tough and need to be cut through in order to pass on his way. This also helps him skin small game if he keeps it sharp enough.

Varying bounty posters; a particularly organized bounty hunter, Taubi keeps posters of current bounties, and will burn the posters of those he’s already returned. He does not kill his bounties, instead often bringing them back to where the bounty was posted to be imprisoned.

Whetsones; skilled in bladed combat over casting or marksmanship, Taubi has a few whetstones with varying grains in order to keep his blades sharp. For more extensive sharpening, he will visit a forge.

5 THINGS YOU’LL FIND IN THEIR ROOM (If he had one)

A bookshelf moderately populated with fictional novels and cookbooks. How else would he spend his time, besides reading and trying new recipes?

Candles filled with varying spices and reagents to give off pleasant scents, as well as to periodically change the color of the flame.

A worn, plush pig toy, covered with a few patches. His favorite animal since he was a child. It’s missing one button eye, and has mud and blood stains on it.

Folders of posters with more advanced bounties. He’ll pursue them when he feels like he’s strong enough to take them on.

Worn and torn parchment targets on the wall, some with throwing knives sticking out of them. Each has an unflattering doodle of an angry-looking red tiefling woman.

5 THINGS THAT MAKE THEM HAPPY

Cooking and baking. His beloved father taught him to bake desserts and elven cuisine when he was very young. Creating and eating has always made him feel better, no matter how sad he’s gotten, and he’s always in a peaceful mood as it makes him reminisce about his childhood.

Music. Taubi is not at all skilled in creating music, singing, or dancing. In fact he barely has enough rhythm to play a triangle, much less a drum. But hearing others make music always brings a smile to his face and a tap to his foot.

Farming. In the seasons when bounty hunting is sparse, Taubi will often help farmers with planting or harvesting their crops. He’s very skilled in all kinds of farming, and it is currently one of the main sources of his muscles.

Skipping rocks. Though more of a short activity that both requires water and flat rocks, Taubi always enjoys it. There were a few times where he spent a bit too long skipping rocks and overworking his shoulder and wrist, but he didn’t mind.

Giving food to others, especially if he’s the one who made it. Again, eating has always made him feel better when he was sad, so it stands to reason that it would make anyone feel better. Not only does it improve one’s mood, but Taubi is especially flattered when people enjoy something that he made, and it helps to boost his confidence.

5 THINGS THEY’RE CURRENTLY INTO

Learning to sew. He’s learning to do it mostly out of necessity, like fixing clothes, his plush pig toy, or closing wounds. He’s a bit more scared of that last one. But, he has started to enjoy the artistry of sewing as well.

Color--changing flames. Taubi knows that some changes are caused by magic, which is something he is horrendous at, while others are caused by chemical changes, which is something he can control. He likes to toss different materials into campfires every now and then to note the change of the flame’s hue.

Learning about where he came from. Tieflings generally don’t come from the union of an orc and an elf, that much is obvious. He knows he was abandoned on his parents’ doorstep as an infant, and occasionally wonders where he truly belongs.

Bettering his hunting abilities. There is no such thing as perfect, and as he became a bounty hunter straight out of the gladiatorial ring, he knows he still has much to learn. Tracking is the most difficult ability that he’s honing, given that he can’t use magic, but he has gotten better at it over the past couple of years.

Sobriety! He...did a lot of things he regrets over his drinking years, and a lot more that he can’t even remember, which bothers him the most. No more stupid decisions muddled by alcohol. No more forgetting entire days at a time!

5 THINGS THINGS ON THEIR TO-DO LIST

Learn what happened to his parents and their farm.

Check up on Aubrey. Secretly, of course. He doesn’t want to get caught by Ettuan again.

Figure out who left him on his parents’ doorstep, and how they connect him to his birth family.

Stock up on testosterone potions, you’re almost out for the season.

Find Myza. Figure out what you’ll do with her when you do.

tagged by : @unsungxheroes tagging : steal it

#; out of character #;; musings (taubi).#; long post

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ahedderick · 4 years

Text

Closer to the house

Y’all have been keeping up with my brush-cutting and fence-clearing adventures, but I haven’t posted much about the garden. My husband usually does the initial planting, then we switch midway through the season and I harvest.

As of April fool’s day the garden looks like this; quite neat and well raked, with the luscious dark compost blended in and the first rows of veggies delineated by white flags. There are rows of lettuce, spinach, and onions, plus a big section of potatoes. Holes have been dug for the Aggressive Bastard sweet potatoes, which are threatening to overwhelm my windowsill. I don’t know when I’ll be able to plant them outside, they’re not frost hardy at all.

South of the house the forsythia and daffodils are blooming nicely to welcome anyone coming up the drive - which no one will be because Maryland started the quarantine/lockdown a few days ago. The huge rock was dug up by the side of our garden, and moved by backhoe to the edge of the yard to make its living by looking pretty. Good work, if you can get it. Shriver’s Ridge is in the background, with all the trees j-u-s-t about to burst into leaf.

Dawn this morning, as I was heading out to do chores. Have some daffodils and doggos! Not yet seen are the tulips, whose bulbs I ‘liberated’ from my father’s porch. He bought the bag of bulbs and dumped them on the floor. He kept telling himself he was just about to plant them - but couldn’t decide where to do it. Eventually I took them and planted them here. Dementia is hellish. He still knows how to start projects, but cannot usually get to the second step. Or finish. Ever. Chance the border collie and Lady the german shepherd mix keep very close track of me as I’m out and around.

#gardenblr #garden #flowers #daffodils #happy doggo #farm #farmblr

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tobrodachi · 5 years

Text

Nice! My otome game scenario is writing itself up, as expected!

Synopsis: Saito Sakura, a woman working as an author for the famous VN company “N*tr*pl*s” is currently the main writer for an otome game scenario coming up. One night, during The Crunch, she collapses and wakes up in her game world! However, she wakes up as Adelina Fugo, the main villainess/pain-in-the-butt for the commoner protagonist Petra Saenz. Worse than that, since the storyboard was never completed, she’s only got a general idea of where the story’s headed in each of the four main routes, and they all lead up to exile or death of her character!

“Well, worse comes to worse, this all serves as inspiration for when I wake up!”

Tags: Female protagonist, dense protagonist, otome isekai, her hands are rated E for Everyone, we going ham with this bois.

Chapter 01/??:

The Crunch, or how I learned to stop worrying and love coffee.

My name is Saito Sakura, a 28 year old Visual Novel writer for N*tr*pl*s who’s currently struggling to make ends meet. Got myself a nice little apartment over at the Narita prefecture, got enough money for my daily expenses, and I love my job. But if my life is so rose-tinted, then why am I struggling?

Because, and let me be clear here, having all of those nice things means absolutely jackshit when you’re pulling a month-long work into a single week. Especially if it’s the third day of said week, with the blinds closed unless I want to invoke the Mother Of All Headaches, and haven’t slept for the past 72 hours and counting; all while subsisting on a diet based of vending machine potato chips, extra-salty tuna onigiri courtesy of my juniors, and an ungodly amount of that sweet, sweet nectar known to mankind as coffee.

Thank you, God of Coffee, for allowing us mere mortals to harvest your beans for our gain. For giving us the inspiration to think of new and innovative ways to prepare your juices, so that we can pair it up with other produce. Milk for the stomach, sugar for the heart, and cinnamon for the soul.

Mmmmm, spicy~! Just the way mama likes it.

“Excuse me, miss Saito.” a voice I couldn’t identify called out to me in the middle of my coffee break, accompanied by a hand clasping my shoulder at the same time.

Rude.

I blinked to get the fog out of my eyes, and fixed my stare at.... who was him again? All I can recall right now are names of characters and places that don’t exist (yet!), and this self-important NPC comes to talk to--

“Please, go back home and take a rest, we’ll cover for you.”

!!!!!!

I take back everything I said about you, my most favorite intern! May you be blessed by the God of Coffee for anything you may need, without suffering from stress-induced gastritis until you’re late in your 40′s~

“Thank you, but I still need to finish at least some sort of idea for the Childhood Friend route, and I’m still struggling to find ideas for that.” My mouth replied still in auto mode, while brain-me was still off in lala land----

Saito Sakura, you utter and absolute fool! How dare you let your heart dictate what your mouth says!? Apologize to me, dammit!

“As expected of our senior! Please, keep doing your best!” My most hated intern cheerfuly replied as he waved and went back to his work station.

Noooooooo~! Please come back and give me back my well-earned freedooooom~!

As I took another sip of coffee in disappointment, my mind went back to think about the southern regions of the Patagonia, while my fingers started moving on their own to an invsible script.

After what felt like hours, I look at the clock hands, and they’re still at 10. Is it morning? Night? I lost count of the pass of time after my 20th cup (and trust me, I kept count), with my own sleepiness never quite leaving the edges of my mind. And now, even the center.

Can’t.

Think.

The only thing keeping me awake is that burning sensation in at the lower part of my chest that seems to be coming from my stomach, and the sheer sensation of my heart wanting to grow legs and jump out of me. What’s worse is that the burning sensation isn’t even calming down, but rather going up; but I’ll take this over not finishing near the deadline.

My sight blurs once again, and I try to focus back to the screen.

The screen stays blurry.

It’s alright, I can still type, even if I can’t see the keystrokes, it’ll just be that intern’s job to figure out what I wanted to write~

Except, well, my hands stopped moving. Huh, fancy that. I can’t feel my hands anymore drumming their beat against the keyboard, so at least I’m assuming so.

I look back at the still blurry monitor, and I can see it’s coming closer to my face, aaaaaand it just went up and above my head, and ow, now besides having this really annoying burning feeling in my chest, I now also have a killer headache.

But on the flip side, now I’m also feeling really, really, warm and fluffy and wonderful.

Maybe I’ll stay like this for a few more minutes....

______________

“-o sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” A mop of brown curled hair doing its best impression of a person apologizing actually said to me while bowing down.

Wait, that’s actually a human person. Nevermind, carry on.

I scoffed and resisted the urge to yawn. Who does this girl think she is? Queen Anne? Puh-lease! Not with those clothes!

“Excuses, as expected of someone who doesn’t even know their place.” I replied, while picking myself off the ground-?

Wait, what was I doing on the ground in the first place? I find it unlikely I was taking a nap, I was just finishing admiring the great mountainous view of this campus---

Wait, that’s not it, I was in my office and then everything became blurry before---

I looked back at the talking mop herself, and she seemed even more apologetic than before. It seems she said something else before, but I didn’t pay attention to it. I gazed at my -gloved?- hands -whenever did I put gloves on?- and saw the silk fabric sullied by the gravel from the road. Seriously, a lady shouldn’t pick up herself like this!

“So, who are you supposed to be?” My voice sounds different- I ask to little miss mop over there, what a sorry view. But at least that question made her look up into my eyes.

Good, she’s got at least a semblance of backbone.

“M-my name--” She stuttered, aaaaaand what little respect she earned went down the drain. Doesn’t she have any self-respect? “-is Petra, Petra Saenz. I’m so sorry about---”

“Keep your mouth shut, and zip up your apologies.” I said -isn’t it rude, though?- haughtily because, again, how dare this imitation for a human try to go through life without affirming her presence?

I heard giggles around me, and turned my head to find my followers -wow, even a girl posse, nice- trying to hold their laughter at the situation. A quick glare fixed it, and they stopped the noises, clearly afraid of what may come. Good, it wouldn’t do to have anything else.

Turning back to the mop, she seemed even more cowed than before, as if expecting divine retribution, which may as well be what’s happening here.

“You’re talking to-” Saito Sakura, Saito’s the family name “-Adelina Fugo. Tennis Ace, Treasurer of the Student Council, and New York’s future Best Selling Author!” Wait, where did that come from?

Oh, wait, those were my goals when I was a kid!

But while those girls were nodding and clapping at my declaration, the mop looked more lost than ever, and this time I couldn’t even fault her.

“Uhm.... what’s New York?”

I’m asking myself the same here.

The other girls stopped clapping and looked at me expectantly.

I -want to rub my eyes and drink some coffee- pick up a flower-patterned fan I had hanging on my hip, before hiding my mouth with it.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” -damn, that felt good to do, even if it WAS hammy- I laugh before fanning myself.

“If you don’t know about it, then you’re not even fit to be in this school!” Can’t let them see me hesitate after such a blunder. My father won’t let me hear the end of it if he hears I backed down after such a ridiculous claim - wait, why would he have to hear it, I live alone - No, I don’t, I’m not even of age!

This is.....

so confusing......

A/N: Well, after reading one too many otome isekai web novels, I decided to try my hand at writing my own! If the synopsis catches your attention. I don’t know when I’ll update it, but I’m aiming for a once-a-month update schedule, both depending on response and my own workload.

This is still in its rough sketches, so the setting is bound to change eventually.

My first intention is to write a “transported to another world” where the protagonist lands herself in the middle of a visual novel she’s creating targeted towards women, where you can court any of 4 romantic interests, in this case boys. That, however, doesn’t mean that those won’t be her only options (if she ends up actually courting anyone).

Since I’m still worldbuilding, I wanted to get this introductory chapter out of the way before commiting to anything in the world.

I should definitely make a blog for this down the line

#Eox's otome game isekai #that's a tentative tag since I don't know if 'writer isekai' is taken

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Something There (Part 6)

Prompt: You and Loki have long been rivals. The two of you fight side by side in battle, when the unexpected strikes.

Word Count: 2106

Warnings: language, blood, gore, violence

Notes: Written for @girl-next-door-writes Disney Birthday challenge. Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes. Brainstormed with @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo and I literally could not have done it without @arrow-guy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two nights had passed since your fun in the snow. The fire had slowly died down, but still gave off enough heat to keep you somewhat comfortable. Just like every night, you drifted into sleep on your chair in front of the fireplace. But this night, something was different.

You started to dream. Typically, your dreams were total nonsense. But tonight, it took reality and spun it into terror and spat it back into your mind. Your brain thought it would be nice to relive the moment you got stabbed, trying to protect Loki, but this time the pain was much worse, the blood was nearly everywhere, and Loki left you in the snow to die. By the time the nightmare ended, you were screaming, tears running down your face.

Within moments, you heard footsteps into the large entry room where you slept.

“What’s going on?” Loki asked, sounding alarmed, prepared to fight intruders. He had his daggers ready, but he was only in sleeping attire. You assumed he’d found it in the trunk in the bedroom he was in. That’s where he had found some pants and a shirt for you a few days before, so that he could wash your other garments.

When you realized what had happened, you apologized, feeling guilty for waking him. In a small voice, you said, “I’m sorry. It was just a bad dream. I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to bed.”

“Well are you alright? You screamed pretty loud,” he questioned carefully, walking over to your side.

“No, yeah, I’m fine.”

He put his hand to your forehead. “You’re a little warm, and sweating…”

You cringed at the idea that Loki felt your sweat. How embarrassing.

“Why don’t you take the bed?” Loki offered. “You don’t need to be sitting in this big drafty room in a lumpy old chair.”

“I like my lumpy old chair.”

“Yes, well you need a real bed. You haven’t laid flat since we got stranded here. I think it would do your body some good.”

“Well where would you sleep?” you inquired. “You already gave me shit for sleeping upstairs.”

“Well, it does get a little chilly in there. Perhaps we could share the bed.”

You peered up at him incredulously. “Share a bed?”

“Do you have a better idea? I’m not giving up the bed, nor am I going upstairs to sleep. It might make you feel better too… with the nightmares.”

You pursed your lips. You didn’t like this idea, not really. But you also didn’t want to be alone, and maybe a flat bed would be nice rather than being curled up on a chair every night.

“Alright, fine. I suppose it can’t do any harm.”

You threw the covers off of you and tried to stand, with Loki holding your arm gently for support. Once you fully got to your feet, he walked right behind you, making sure you didn’t sway or stumble. He raced over to the side of the bed closest to the door and threw the covers back so that you didn’t have to worry with those when you reached it. You got to the side, sat down, and he kept you stable while you swung your legs up and under the blankets.

“Are you alright?” he checked as you got settled.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed where he crawled in and laid on his back. At first, it really didn’t feel all that strange. Both of you were tired, both of you needed a bed, both of you needed heat.

After twenty seconds, you suddenly warned, “Don’t try anything funny. I don’t mind ripping these stitches to kick your ass.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn't worry about me. I prefer my women unwounded.”

“That’s discrimination,” you joked.

“Trust me, darling. For what I could do to you, you would want to be at peak physical condition,” he vowed confidently.

Strangely, your body responded in a foreign way. Your throat became dry and your thighs squeezed together, and if you weren’t hallucinating, your pulse quickened.

“Well, uh, thanks.. For sharing the bed, that is,” you corrected, your voice tight.

------------------

Loki sat in the bedroom in the far corner of the room in a chair, reading a book he’d found upstairs. It was in a different language. You enjoyed watching him read, and secretly wished he would read aloud, just so you could hear his voice.

Maybe being isolated for this long, alone together, really had made you crazy. You were craving Loki Odinson’s voice… What lunacy.

Suddenly, you peered over at Loki, wanting to discuss something you’d always wondered. “Do you remember the time at the harvest ball? When we were still in finishing school?” you asked, your voice raspy and weak.

For some reason, you felt horrible today. Perhaps your body wasn’t fighting off the poison as well as you thought it was.

“Of course,” he answered, still peering at his book.

You smiled slightly, happy to know that he hadn’t forgotten it. “Your father told you to dance with me, and you said, ‘I’d never dance with her if she were the last woman in Asgard’.”

At the time, his comment didn’t hurt you. In fact, the feeling was mutual. Yet, to know someone, even someone you were rivals with, didn’t want to dance with you had hurt. Insulting even.

He stopped reading immediately, his eyes lifting off the page slightly, but refusing to meet your gaze from the bed. In an even voice, he responded, “I did that to spare your toes and my dignity. I hadn’t finished dancing class at the time and I worried about stepping all over your feet. A prince that can’t dance, a punishable offense in both of my parents’ eyes.”

“You went and danced with Aurora Fendress after that,” you reminded, a slight hint of accusation in your tone.

“I didn’t care if I stepped on her toes,” he gently informed, giving you a pointed look that seemed to make you go warm all over. “I could always correct my mistake, right now, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“You want to dance with me?” you inquired, incredulous.

“Well, right now, you are the only Asgardian woman on this planet so… I’m still within my promise,” he states with a coy smile and a gleam in his eye.

You couldn’t help the smile and chuckle that came to you when he said that.

“Come,” he offered, getting up and extending his hand as he made his way over to you.

“You sure this won’t repulse you to your core?” you muttered.

“I think if I can care for a gaping wound on your stomach, I can dance with you.”

“How generous,” you teased as you got into formation. Your hand placed on his shoulder, the other hand in his. He put his hand on your waist and the two of you were as close as you were during combat. But instead of trying to stab him, or knock him off his footing, or him trying to cut you open, you were just dancing.

Your eyes met, and suddenly you felt bashful, exposed. This feeling felt far too… comfortable. You shouldn’t be this happy in Loki’s arms, or this warm, or this giddy. Butterflies hammered your rib cage as your heart rate raced.

He must’ve noticed your bewilderment as he gave a tiny smile at your face being flushed.

Before you knew it, Loki went from swaying slightly with you, to humming a very popular tune from your home realm. It brought an adoring grin to your face and before you knew it, the two of you had picked up your feet and pace to match the tune perfectly. Your body swirled around the room, your feet as light and delicate as a ballerina’s, Loki leading the dance as effortless as anyone you’d ever been with. By far, he was the best partner you’d ever encountered on a dancefloor.

“You’ve gotten better,” you remarked, a coy grin on your face.

“Well, some of us had to get better at something, hmm?” he teased, a playful smile on his lips.

When the tune finished, he ended the dance by twirling you back into him, where you rested your shoulder, and the two of you stood there for a long time, embracing in the quiet, chilled room of the castle.

“Loki?” you said, breaking the silence after several minutes.

“Mhm?” he hummed.

“Do you think we’re ever going to get out of here?”

He let out his breath, rubbing your back soothingly, consoling you. “I hope so…”

-----------------------------

Later that night, you two were sitting by the fire, just as the sun was setting. Loki had made a nice meal for you two. Meat from some bird that had been cut and stored in the freezer, along with vegetables he recovered. Loki tended to the embers in the fireplace, making sure to keep a steady, heavily warm stream coming into the room. There was another snowstorm starting up and he wanted to be sure you two would be warm throughout the night.

Meanwhile, you sat in a chair a little ways back in the room, giving him room to work. You had found the few pieces of paper he’d given you from his journal, and finally, you felt like you had something worthy of writing. Using the paper as sort of a diary, you wrote,

There's something sweet and almost kind

But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined

And now he's dear and so I'm sure

I wonder why I didn't see it there before

He was crouching in front of the fire, admiring the warmth and color before stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye at you. You were writing in your journal, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you’d been staring at him with a sweet smile on your face.

Once satisfied with the fire, he retreated into a chair to the right of the fireplace, catty corner to you. He got inspired by seeing you write and pulled out his journal and pencil of his own and began to jot down his thoughts as well.

She glanced this way, I thought I saw

And when we touched she didn't shudder at my hand

No, it can't be, I'll just ignore

But then she's never looked at me that way before

Now, Loki appeared to take a page out of your book, and he was working in his journal. Perhaps drawing… Perhaps even drawing you, and that made you blush wildly.

Unbeknownst to both of you, you were being watched, from a land far away…

Frigga, Sif, Thor, and the warrior’s three stood around a large table. The Queen had cast a spell on the tabletop so that everyone could see you and Loki. Odin had requested that his wife keep an eye on you two, making sure that neither of you got too close to death.

All of them surrounded the table, smiling, seeing how far you two had come in a month.

“Well, who'd have thought?” Sif questioned, looking hopefully at her queen.

Frigga nodded in response, her eyes glued to the scene before her. “Well, bless my soul.”

Volstagg concurred, “Well, who'd have known?”

“Well, who indeed?” Fandral asked, patting his friend’s shoulder with a giant grin. “And who’d have guessed they’d come together on their own?”

“It's so peculiar! Wait and see!” Frigga remarked, giddy at the thought of her son finally finding love. She’d seen the budding romance when you two were just children. Before the other kids teased Loki, and before you became only known as the best athlete and sometimes the best scholar on the schoolyard, you and Loki had been close. But Frigga never forgot this. She knew that just beneath the surface of the life-long competition that existed between you two, lurked a deep, profound love.

Sif peered at everyone. “We’ll wait and see, a few days more. There may be something there that wasn’t there before.”

Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.

“What is it?” Thor suddenly questioned, peering down. “What’s there?”

Frigga giggled delicately as she placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Thor, some things are best left unsaid, darling.”

Thor simply stood there, feeling confused as ever before. He looked down to the two of you writing, and couldn’t fathom why everyone was so enthralled with this image of you two writing. What could be so exciting about that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

@sea040561

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

Loki Odinson

@lostinspace33

@ultrarebelheart

@lenawiinchester

@esoltis280

@tngrayson

@wangdeasang

@harrymewmew

@jayfantasyatyourservice

#something there #emma disney challenge #loki x reader #loki fic #loki odinson x reader #loki laufyeson x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

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in-this-light-on-this-evening · 6 years

Text

99 Question Tag

@your-basket-case tagged me - thank you so much dear!!! I'm a giant sucker for tag games, so here. WE. GO.

1.DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED?

Actually it's always half open because I need that air to circulate hah!

2. DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS?

Only if I like the smell.

3. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT?

Tucked in! How can you sleep with sheets tucked out omg?

4. HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE?

I WISH

5. DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT-NOTES?

Hm not really. I usually keep a big notebook/notepad on my desk and I fill it with things to remember, drafts, etc

6. DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM?

We don't have as a big coupon culture here in Italy as it happens to be in America but sometimes I do!

7. WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES?

Bear.

8. DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES?

No but I wish I had them!

9. DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES?

For selfies yes, for other pictures not so much.

10. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE?

I have to many, honestly, but I guess Cancelled Culture and psycho stans are the biggest at the moment.

11. DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK?

Maybe.

12. HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS?

Yes. Traumatising experience.

13. HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS?

You insane? I'm too scared of pooping in the woods.

14. I think I deleted this question on accident.

Lost in time and spaaace!

15. DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS?

Chewing pens and pencils? In this economy?

16. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK?

3 with my imaginary lover.

17. WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED?

I think it's an European King sized but I'm not 100% sure. I WANT THE CEASAR ONE.

18. WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK?

Hm, I'm still losing my mind over "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier but I just discovered the new James Blake's album and that, as a whole, is a big mood for this week as well.

19. IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK?

Bitch yes?

20. DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS?

Sometimes.

21. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE?

Hm, nothing comes to my mind at the moment.

22. WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME?

I can't tell you. It wouldn't be hidden anymore although:

23. WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER?

Diet coke or water because I'm too broke for wine.

24. WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN?

Nothing. I die like men.

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?

Sushi, pizza, pierogi, carbonara, tomato & corn salad, fried mozzarella, tiramisù.

26. WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE?

Stardust, Dead Poets Society, Mean Girls, Little Miss Sunshine

27. LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU?

A guy that broke my heart last year.

28. WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT?

Yes!

29. WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE?

If I wasn't an ugly potato... yes.

30. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER?

2 years ago, I think.

31. CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR?

32. EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET?

Who do you think I am? A redneck?

33. EVER RAN OUT OF GAS?

No.

34. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH?

Rye bread + thin spread of cream cheese + lettuce + thin slices of chicken or smoked ham + tomatoes + red onion + pickled artichoke

35. BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST?

Granola. Dry. Straight from your hand as if you're a starving horse in disguise.

36. WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME?

00:00-01:00AM

37. ARE YOU LAZY?

I'm not lazy. I procrastinate.

38. WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN?

Back in time Halloween wasn't a thing in Poland, so unfortunately I didn't dress up.

39. WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN?

I'M A HORSE.

40. HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK?

3: Italian, Polish and English

41. DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS?

Nein, but I'd like to get Wired subscription.

42. WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS?

What are even Lincoln Logs... Did Lincoln harvest the logs himself, though?

43. ARE YOU STUBBORN?

Yes and no. Depends on the situation.

44. WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN?

My tit.

45. EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS?

Not anymore.

46. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS?

Not really. But if I find myself on the edge of something high without a fence, I'll probably panic and casually fall down.

47. DO YOU SING IN THE CAR?

Do I sing? No. I PERFORM.

48. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?

Only when I'm home alone.

49. DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR?

Yeah, sometimes when the inspiration and the right bop kick in.

50. EVER USED A GUN?

A glue gun.

51. LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER?

Does the mugshot for the drivers licence count?

52. DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY?

Depends.

53. IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL?

The concept by itself isn't stressful. My family tends to ruin it with the overdramatic stress.

54. EVER EAT A PIEROGI?

BITCH THAT'S MY MOTHERLAND'S MEAL WE SNIFF THAT SHIT LIKE COCAINE.

55. FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE?

Apple, rhubarb, pear.

56. OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID?

Doctor, fashion designer, archeologist, paleonthologist...

57. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

Yes. I've had paranormal experiences and I'm still not over it.

58. EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING?

Very often.

59. DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY?

No. I die like men.

60. DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS?

Yes!

61. DO YOU WEAR A BATH ROBE?

I don't have any but I would like to wear one of those super cozy and soft ones!

62. WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED?

Hmm, depends. Now I'm wearing a hoodie, leggings and socks because it's cold as fuck.

63. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT?

I'm pretty sure it was DeMono, a Polish band. I casually saw them with my parents when we were on holiday back in 1997.

64. WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART?

I'M NOT AMERICAN BITCH. TESCO.

65. NIKE OR ADIDAS?

Both actually!

66. CHEETOS OR FRITOS?

What the fuck are FRITOS? I've never tried them, so I can't answer lol!

67. PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS?

BOTH. I'm a sucker for NUTS.

68. EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN?

Of what now? Is this another American thing I'm not aware of because of my ancient and unbothered European nature?

69. EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS?

Nein!

70. IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING?

I don't care, really. I do care about them doing what they love and want to do. If they'll be happy about it, so will I :')

71. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE?

Sí, señor!

72. EVER WON A SPELLING BEE?

We don't have this in Europe asdfkgkf

73. HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY?

Kind of.

74. OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS?

I have regular cd's but I would love to start a vinyl record collection.

75. OWN A RECORD PLAYER?

Not yet!

76. DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE?

I used to but I don't do that anymore.

77. EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

Yes but nobody loved me back.

78. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT?

QUEEN. On the more possible side: Andrea Boccelli, The Struts, George Ezra, MORE HOZIER, The Killers, Arctic Monkeys... The list goes on!

79. WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW?

HOZIER. It was a magical experience, I love him so much, I want to cry 😭♥️

80. HOT TEA OR COLD TEA?

Both.

81. TEA OR COFFEE?

Tea.

82. SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES?

Both.

83. CAN YOU SWIM WELL?

Avarage just so I don't die sucked into the abyss.

84. CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE?

Wait, people CAN'T do that? What dysfunction do you have? It's literally so easy?

85. ARE YOU PATIENT?

Yes, very much but in the last couple of years I've started slowly losing my shit in certain situations.

86. DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING?

Band.

87. EVER WON A CONTEST?

No. I'm an avarage bitch that thinks she's more than that but the truth is that I'm not a winner.

88. HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY?

Does the surgery on my toe count?

89. WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES?

BLACK

90. CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET?

Not yet but I will learn at some point!

91. BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE?

Living room.

92. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED?

If I meet the love of my life then yes. The bar is too high, though, so I'm not sure if that's gonna happen haha!

93. IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED?

94. WHO WAS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH?

His name was William and that was the most embarrassing moment of my life because a bitch that considered herself as my "friend" told everybody that I had a crush on him. When he got to know it, he basically humiliated me in front of the entire clique, if not the whole school. I hate him ever since and it's been already 10 years or so.

95. DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY?

No.

96. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

My dog is my son.

97. DO YOU WANT KIDS?

Kids? In this economy? On this planet? Just for my liking? Absolutely fucking not. That would be a crime and absolute torture for them and I don't want them to suffer as I do.

98. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?

Black, emerald green, gold, yellow, purple.

99. DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW?

Freddie Mercury.

I tag: @santonicababy, @chaotic-pansexual, @songparade, @fossa-poplitea and everybody else who wants to do this! :’D

#tag thingy #long post

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spookenstein · 6 years

Text

Character Meme

@some-cookie-crumbz tagged me in this like an asshole like a week ago (j/k) but I was busy finishing a summer course for college. I gotta pick my favorite characters from 10 different fandumbs so this will be fun.

I’m really inactive on here so the only people I know who may do it are @space-exeggutor, @waytootired, and my horrible husbando @newgroundsguru. I’m doing this in no particular order.

Also this post may contain decades old spoilers so you know read at your own risk, all 5 of you out there in Tumblr land.

Luke Fon Fabre (Tales of the Abyss)

It’s hard not to like a character who causes so many people to drop the game within the first 10 hours because they find him so unbearable - never getting into the meat and potatoes of his character. While I hate that he loses a bit of his asshole-ish ways, but the combination of killing an entire town of people and the big plot twist (he’s a clone, and he’s been alive 7 years) it makes sense. He’s both figuratively and literally a child mentally - as he was raised to be a brat in the sort time he’s been around. Watching Luke strive to become better, come to terms with who he is and his own worth, and just bonding with the rest of the cast really makes it worth while.

Kuron (then Takashi Shirogane aka Shiro) (Voltron: The Legendary Defender)

Prior to season 3, while I enjoyed Shiro - he really started sticking out to me as a character. Kuron, even though a clone, clearly had some of his own little personality quirks that made him stick out to me more. He was more willing to put his foot down and take charge opposed sort of smiling and taking it. Poor precious clone baby, how I will miss you. You will always be a paladin in my heart. Shiro is second only to his clone - it’s hard not like Shiro the best when it feels like he’s the only character who has had any well rounded character development throughout the series.

Relena Darlian/Peacecraft (Gundam Wing)

Moving away from the clone character trend, but staying with the mech show that’s more melodrama than actual robot fighting - the most hated characters of the early 2000′s that I loved. Much like with Shiro, Relena felt like the only character who had a legitmate arc throughout the series and grew as a person. She starts as a spoiled rich girl, attempts to avenge her adopted father but ultimately decides to take on her biological families ideals, is a political puppet at one point, and then ultimately takes up her adopted father’s role. Did I mention she’s only 15? I’ve always felt bad for the amount of flak she gets, despite all she does throughout the series, because of the “Heeeerro come back and kill me” schtick. Also I was torn between her and Duo but I knew if I said Duo it would be because he was my first husbando.

Vegeta (Dragon Ball)

I actually hated Vegeta growing up, and it wasn’t until high school that I really came to appreciate his character. I like the villain becoming a good guy thing, and that in Vegeta’s case he really still seemed more like the “grey” guy then good guy - like he wasn’t necessarily bad anymore but he wasn’t really good either. I like that in a weird way he surpasses Goku in being more human the longer the series progresses - he genuinely cares for his family’s well being even if he’s a little tsundere about it. I’ll admit too, while Super maybe horrible in certain aspects, I really do appreciate Vegeta of all people sort of becoming a voice of reason among everything that happens within the series. Like, it’s hard to believe the former antagonist is in that role.

Todoroki Shoto (Boku no Hero Academia)

This was a real hard pick because I like a lot of character’s from BnHA and I can think of at least 3 more I could say are my favorite all for different reasons. However I think Todoroki would be my number 1 pick. He’s a character who’s gone through a lot and post the sport’s festival fight with Deku, he’s growing. Todoroki could’ve stayed a quiet, anti-social, sticking to his guns kind of rival like so many shonen do but instead elects to grow. Reconnecting with his mother, not squandering his opportunities to use the resources his father has, and willing to crack the occasional joke - it makes Todoroki a breath of fresh air as one of Deku’s growing list of rivals.

Tadano Hitohito (Komi-san wa Komyushou Desu)

I started reading Komi-san wa Komyushou Desu when it was first getting translations because I thought Komi was so adorable, but as time as gone on Tadano really stole my heart. Tadano is the definite of average - and that’s literal, his whole character is being basically vanilla ice cream in 31 flavors. I never truly understood the concept of moe until this character. He’s just a earnest, hardworking guy who’s willing to help anyone - even people who treat him poorly (which is basically everyone considering his standing with Komi, the class idol). Out of all the smile I want to protect, I want to protect Tadano’s the most.

Tangy (Animal Crossing)

Cute, orange kitty cat. I don’t know what to say, she’s peppy, talks about being a super star and she’s an ORANGE KITTY CAT. She’s just too much, too freaking cute.

Gill (Harvest Moon Tree of Tranquility/Animal Parade)

I was torn between Gill and Ellen from OG Harvest Moon, but elected to go with Gill because I’ve married him so many times. Truthfully, the type A pretty boy types aren’t normally my thing but I made an exception for him. I like to think that the MC and Gill start off as a couple of convenience - Gill wanting that sweet farming bux and the MC wanting to have a political in. It’s stupid but that’s how I like to play Harvest Moon, by inventing soup opera drama in my head.

Matsuno Choromatsu (Osomatsu-san)

Again, I’m not normally into the type A personality but Choromatsu is almost like the pseudo-middle child so I feel for him. Also, I’m a terrible person so I can relate to feeling like your the least piece of shit in a room of crap (i.e. all my coworkers even though I know I’m not even better). Plus I’m otaku trash and I love cute anime girls (opposed to his idol love). In a lot of ways he pales to the other Matsu’s but everyone needs a straight man, and he’s good at it.

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid)

She’s cute, she can sing, she can dance, and because she’s different depending on who’s writing the song she’s can be easy to relate too. My bedroom is also decked out with like 10-11 Miku figures so she had to go on here somewhere. My dream is to see her live one of these days.

Thanks to anyone who took the time to read my post on characters I enjoy. Even if I don’t know you, feel free to do it yourself. It’s a real head scratcher.

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