#for now it is chilly and windy and the light is low and I have coffee

[wheelie-sick]

it is October, my favorite month, and it is starting with a cool windy morning

[aliasrocket]

How do you imagine having a first date with Rocket would go? Poor guy would probably be so nervous cause it would be his first real date ever.

OOO I’m usually not good at fluff but this would be a good warm up so why not?? Thanks for this request this is so cute <3

(Side note for those of you who read ‘last (friday) night’, you can take this as a sequel that happens like a year after multiple ‘accidental’ nights and they finally sort out their feelings.)

(This was supposed to be a drabble but it would appear I got carried away. I might post this to ao3 if I’m in the mood HAHAH RIP)

taglist : @caesarhamato22 @cosmic-lavender @shybabylovestmnt-blog (send me an ask if you wanna be on my taglist! Do specify what kind of content you’d like tonbe tagged for <33) or

masterlist! :> / request stuff :D

“Buy me dinner first, captain.”

It was supposed to be stupid joke. That’s the thing. Even Rocket laughed at the time. You laughed at the time.

So that perfectly explained why he’s grounded in dark blue lighting, the low light outside giving his room a taste of the windy evening while he adjusted the tie around his neck.

“Dinner,” he murmured, lips barely parting. “Yeah, right.”

He grabbed the knob to his door and it flew open and shut right after he slipped past it.

He was immediately greeted by the chilly Knowhere air, proving his effort of putting on a suit jacket useful. He typically didn’t like putting on a coat so early in the night, but judging from the people fading by the street, it was probably going to be a colder night.

Your door.

His feet stood planted on the ground, shoulder width apart after he’d slipped his hands into his pockets.

Hello, door.

Was that enough?

Of course not.

But talking to the door is a lot easier than knocking on it, Rocket found, with the way his hand shivered at the very thought of leaving its snug pocket.

His hand rose from its bed anyway, stopping right before the plastic surface in a fist.

Boom.

Well, he was being dramatic. It was really more of a knock.

He knocked two more times, and his hand quickly retreats back into his now warm pocket.

One second, two then three when a cool air brushed past him and a light touched his fur.

“Oh! Look at you, all dolled up.”

You had your head tilted and your back arched as both your hands tended to an earring on your right ear. Rocket wandered further down, observing the shine on your exposed shoulders, the spaghetti strings holding your dress up and how it so generously cherished your curves in its hold.

Rocket licked his lips. Cold air can turn your lips dry, he reminded himself.

“What can I say? You’re a doll.” He shrugged. “Ready?”

He almost had the instinct of holding one hand down but that would mean taking the other out of his pocket. They were dampening his pants from the humidity on his palms.

“Yeah!” You beamed with a cherry-chapstick smile, a white glimmer gilding across your lip as you closed the door behind you. “Where are we going?”

Rocket chuffed to himself, a smile curling his lips. “I think I’d better show you than tell you.”

“C’mon, I know all the great restaurants around here. It won’t take long for me to guess.”

You both descended down the last flight of stairs before making contact with the ground—your apartment hadn’t been as high up as many of the other civilians in Knowhere.

“First of all, we’re not goin’ to any restaurant. Second of all, it so, definitely would take you a millennia to guess.”

“Mm, and why’s that?”

Rocket wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose, but he could have sworn he heard that line from a 50’s show on Terra. That’s what they would call it, anyway, and they were usually of really poor quality and the film would be black and white. When he looked up, your lip was still the light’s favorite, gracing it with a little white dot as if Rocket hadn’t already given it all the attention it deserved.

“Because I’m not taking you anywhere you’ve been before,” Rocket replied.

It didn’t take long before you both reached the desired destination.

“Why are we at a parking lot?”

“You wound me, princess,” Rocket lamented theatrically, holding his hands to his chest. He snickered at his own gesture after you laughed at it too. “Don’t you know I wouldn’t take you to just any parking lot?”

“What kind of parking lot is this then?” You held a hand to your hip, and Rocket stole a quick glance before quickly looking away. Needless to say, it highlighted your hips a lot more than he would have liked for his own well-being.

“You’ll see.”

You both walk a little further in to find a large ship, and it probably occupied the entire parking lot from its sheer size alone.

“Woah,” your lips hung parted as your head swung left and right to get the whole view of the vehicle. “Your ship?”

“The guardians’, but basically, yes,” Rocket’s brows furrowed with a smug grin. “It’s called the Bowie.”

“Bowie—as in David Bowie? The Terran singer?”

“Yeah.” Rocket nodded. “You know him?”

“I mean, duh. I lived on Terra, once upon a time,” you smiled.

Rocket smiled too.

You seemed to notice.

“Wanna check it out?”

“You’re asking me if I wanna check out a ship named the Bowie? We’re going!” You laughed and began to run, forcing Rocket to chase after you.

Rocket gave you a conservative tour of the ship, but you didn’t seem to mind when he managed to swiftly get you across to the cockpit of the ship where the real magic was.

“Is—is that takeout?”

“Yeap. Terran delights. You seem very in touch with your roots so I started there.”

You rush towards the brown bags, peering inside to see the blue holographic container given in most takeouts orders to keep food warm. Rocket walks over to the pilot seat and you open the container.

“Fuck, chicken, I’ve missed this,” you sighed, inhaling the delicious aroma now filling the air.

The handles in Rocket’s seat was now infected by his damp hands. He clenched his jaw, wiping his palms on his pants harshly before pulling up a holographic control panel.

“Rocket,” you said cautiously. “Rocket what are you doing—”

“Getting a better view for our table.”

And that, he did, when the entire parking lot floor began to oscillate and the walls unfolded rigidly to reveal a familiar lens that seemed to unscrew.

“What—wait that’s—”

“Do me a favor?”

“What—we’re going to space?”

“Yeah. Strap on, put the food on your lap and do not let go of the bag.”

“Rocket, are you sure about this?”

“It’s completely safe. And I’m a pilot, remember?” Rocket’s chair pivoted to face you.

You stared out at the windshield, back slouching as you said nothing. Your eyes had perfectly reflected the stars and the skies that strewn the canvas of space.

Though, Rocket wasn’t quite sure if it was a reflection of the stars or something your eyes already behold.

“Hey.”

You look up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, and your gaze was no longer on him. Your head was still tilted up but your eyes had wandered somewhere else.

“It’s … been a while. That’s all.”

“We don’t have to go,” Rocket said, softer than he would have thought, or liked. It made his voice … light. Something he didn’t consider himself to be.

“No!” You exclaimed, and then cleared your throat. “I-I mean, um, no, sorry—this is amazing. I want to go. I’m just … nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Rocket consoled, his voice becoming something of a velvet texture when it rolled past his tongue. “It’s nothing but gorgeous out there. You’ll fit right in.”

You covered your mouth.

Rocket grinned. It was stupid, sure, but he saw the way your cheeks rose and knew he didn’t have to worry.

And with that, you settled into the seat a few feet away from Rocket’s own, placing the brown bag on your lap and holding onto the rim.

You gave him a nod, and Rocket snickered as your head was sent back onto the head rest at take off, pressing before you found the strength to resist the pushing force.

Rocket was quick to settle the ship in space, the view partially including the ancestral head Knowhere was stowed away in. The rest of it had been space and everything else it’s always been; an endless, black vacuum lucky enough to end up with stars as freckles.

Except, this view had been different—somehow, there were some purple and blue hues bleeding into the black scene like paint being dipped in murky water.

“Holy shit.”

It was as quiet as a breath one would let out in an exhale, but somehow, Rocket heard it all the same.

“Holy shit is right,” he chimed in.

“Rocket … where is this …?”

“We’re near a planet and this one in particular gives off a plasma that’s highly reactive to its own natural hydrocarbons, so it takes the purple color of the planet’s surface and it drifts past the planet’s atmosphere and—”

You got off your seat and quickly set down the food on the floor between the two pilot seats.

“Oh! Sorry, continue—”

“No, you’re right, I should shut up,” Rocket agreed with a smile before getting off his seat and crossing his legs on the floor.

Rocket frowned as soon as you were occupied with the food. The thing is, he can’t really remember the last time he’s rambled like that to someone else. It wasn’t like he expected you to understand him and the only other person he’d ever rambled about science to is …

You set aside the brown bag, allowing Rocket a better view of you. You place down his own food container before opening yours again.

You took one of the pieces of chicken in your hand, your head lowered but your eyes on Rocket’s own.

“And it never drifts far because of the planet’s gravity, right?”

Rocket’s ear twitched and he perked up at your words. He felt the end of his tail jerk in every so often and he tried his best to keep it directly behind him.

“How’d you know?” He asked, grabbing a utensil and scooping up his own food.

“We go to school on Terra. Ever heard of it?” You joked.

“For some reason, I don’t buy it—not the school thing but the ‘they teach us in school’ thing,” Rocket said in a pitchy voice, stuffing his mouth with food and chewing.

( you weren’t surprised. If you were being completely honest, you wanted nothing less than to impress and knowing that Rocket was a pilot, you’d done all the research you could about space and took in anything that was comprehendible for you. School was nothing but a nightmare. It’s one of the reasons you left earth. But rocket didn’t need to know that. )

“Rocket, chew your food, c’mon,” you said with a smile.

You titter at his state, and rightfully so; he had taken a huge bite, and he was lucky you didn’t have a mirror on you or else his cybernetically engineered rib cage might combust.

“But for the record, it …”

Rocket exhaled through his nose.

The purples floating in space had somehow also gotten on your form and smudged itself on your cheek. You weren’t facing space, and it was at this moment that Rocket knew,

you had your own solar system, orbiting in your very eyes.

“It means a lot to me.”

You smiled.

Rocket wondered if the rose tint had always been in your cheeks or if it always emerged whenever you did something pretty.

Certain images of you began flooding his mind, images he’d seen before; the way you bite your lip, how it parted when he tugged your hair or did something to make you elicit those lovely sounds he relished hearing.

“The food is amazing,” you complimented right after swallowing your first bite. “Thank you, I really, really missed this.”

“It’s not my cooking, but no problem,” Rocket replied.

Both of you look out at the windshield, taking the view in once more and making sure it seeps into the little gaps of fur and skin.

“I know this date’s only just started but …”

Rocket turned back to you, another bite of food ready on his spoon.

“This might be the best day of my life.”

Rocket froze.

Soon enough, the spoon ended up in his mouth, withdrawing as soon as his teeth scraped the food off for him to chew.

“Well that’s a little depressing,” he smiled.

It turned into a hearty guffaw at your frown, your own mouth too stuffed with chicken for you to reply so soon.

“How is this day being the best of my life depressing?” You managed to make out right after swallowing your food.

“It’s a first date with take out fried food and we’ve barely just begun—”

“Well I’m sorry for finding your well-thought out date to be one of the best things I’ve ever experienced!”

Rocket paused for the second time that night.

“You mean that?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Of course, I mean that. I wouldn’t go out on a date with someone I didn’t like, I’ve spent way too much time on Terra doing that.”

“Well, then … what else is up on that list?”

“Hm?”

Rocket’s eyes were practically tied to your body. He’d been looking at the stars for half the night, but each sentence you spoke somehow made you lean forward a little more and due to the nature of your dress, you sat with your legs glued together but folded by the side.

All of which gave Rocket a very distracting view.

He couldn’t just steal a glance like before, no—because your dress stopped right above your cleavage and with you leaning forward, it was an angle that was all too hard to simply steal.

“What else was on your list of ‘the best things you’ve experienced’?”

Rocket looked away, finally.

But it might have been too late.

You snorted.

“That’s real cliché, Rocket,” you remarked.

“Hey, I’m sorry! I’m only a man—a man who’s happened to have the luxury of having sex with you and now I think I kinda want more,” Rocket confessed frankly.

“Tell you what,” you began, setting your chicken bone down on your food container. “Thirty minutes,” you paused, gesturing towards the food. “Wait for this to settle. Then I’ll suck your dick on that chair.”

“Fuck,” Rocket exhaled. “You’re so goddamn hot when you do that.”

thank you so much for reading!! <3

// tip jar. commissions.

[idolish7imagines]

hi! is it okay if i request nagi x reader scenario where they're cuddling for warmth? or maybe just nagi with a s/o who gets cold easily?

Rokuya Nagi x Reader :: Warmth

A\n: i hope this is what you wanted anon!

.

You never were good with cold weather. From childhood all the way up until now.

Even being out in the chilly, windy weather of winter or fall for just a few seconds would leave your teeth chattering and scrambling to get to the next indoor area with heat.

This doesn't do you any favors when you're waiting for your boyfriend to finish a shoot in an area with snow. He'd already notified you of this and in an attempt to be prepared, you put on your heaviest coat, paired with a sweater, scarf, mittens and hat (most of which were actually presents from him)

For a second you swore you could still see your breath even with your face mostly hidden beneath the scarf around your neck.

Trying not to get in the way of the filming crew, you stayed in the back for now, sitting on an outside bench trying to warm up. They give you a few strange, but quickly fleeting looks as they pass by hauling equipment with them.

You were praying they would wrap up soon or else you'd surely be an icicle by the time your boyfriend would get the chance to look at you again.

Eventually, like a shining light to save you, you can see Nagi and the other i7 members coming back from the site they were filming at a little ways away from where you and the remaining crew were.

Nagi's lips form into a small 'o' shape before immediately coming over to you and gently placing his gloved hands on your arms, standing in front of you. The distance between your bodies are closed as he pulls your torsos together into something resembling a hug.

"Sorry for making you wait so long, my love." His vivid blue eyes peer down at yours.

"Its okay.." You smile, even though it isn't visible under your scarf.

Somehow it seems like he can still tell you are though, probably through the slight change in your eyes, and gives a soft smile back.

"Tsumugi will be here soon to pick us up, I will keep you warm until then. You don't mind being this close to me, do you?" There's a slight playfulness to his tone as he leans his face close to you, noses almost touching. You can see his breath too.

"Never." Your smile widens.

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

Nagi wishes there were some sort of fireplace the two of you could sit in front of with hot cocoa, but realistically a fireplace being in a dorm as chaotic as the i7 group could get would probably cause more harm than good.

So for now you'd have to settle for just cuddling on the living room couch with cocoa.

You were probably a little too wrapped up in several covers and blankets, that added with still wearing the scarf you had on earlier. Nagi had piled them all onto you in order for you to warm up as fast as possible, but if you don't start peeling off layers soon the good kind of heat might turn into the bad, stuffy kind.

The heater was also on for all of their sakes after filming in such cold weather. Fortunately most of the other members were in their rooms or planning to head back out soon...except for Sogo on the couch across from the two of you but he's quiet enough to be able to pretend its just you and your boyfriend.

Magical Cocona was playing on the TV but it was at a low volume so you were only half paying attention to it.

You could tell Nagi was fighting sleep trying to watch it, but his head kept lulling against yours.

"Tired?" You ask in a small voice, looking up at him. It wasn't hard to believe since he'd been working the majority of the day.

"No..I have to fight it.." He whines, sounding like he's talking more to himself than you.

A chuckle escapes you, leaning more against him and sharing your cover.

"Are you alright now, darling?" He lifts his sleepy eyelids to look at you. Somehow even when sleepy he still looked beautiful, his blonde locks a little unkempt than usual, strands falling over his eyes.

"Mhm. Now that i'm here and comfortable with you."

"Don't say such heart stopping things while I'm on the brink of collapse.." He mutters, earning another laugh from you. "I'm glad. I am still sorry you had to wait in the cold."

"Its not your fault." You slowly lean upwards to press a kiss to his temple.

"I fear you would die if I brought you to Northmeir.."

This time you stare with half-lidded eyes. You can't tell if he's more dramatic when he's tired or normal.

"I won't deny it would be rough. But I still want to go..maybe not in winter though."

"You would brave the cold weather for me? I just told you not to say romantic things when I can't respond properly.." He has a small smile on his face, looking at you fondly.

"Get some rest then so you can." You pat his cheek, before yawning. "I'm going to sleep too.."

"Alright. Sweet dreams, my (Y/N)." Your boyfriend's voice is close to a whisper, and you can tell he's going to be asleep in less than 10 seconds.

"Sweet dreams, Nagi."

[pbandjesse]

Today was a pretty good day. I am very worried about James. They are struggling tonight. But I hope they can sleep easier.

I slept alright last night. I woke up a few times but mostly I was alright. James left early and took an Uber to work because while we now know that the light rail doesn't run that early on Sundays, we now also know that the bus doesn't either??? It's crazy to me. Like people work on Sundays! People who need public transportation work on Sunday?? I'm glad James made it to work okay. And I appreciated the extra couple hours of sleep.

When I woke up I felt kind of bleh. My body feels weird. I feel a little weird. But I was alright.

I got washed and dressed. I had to change my shirt because the seams were bothering me. But I got a different one on and was much more comfortable and cozy. I would change again to add a layering tank top before I left. But I'm the end I was very comfortable.

I brought some snacks and headed to the museum. It was chilly today. But it was nice. A windy but beautiful day.

James was a little low. I didn't want to bother them much. They were just chilling at the front desk and watching the world cup. We rooted for Argentina. Who would end up winning so that was exciting.

The church was in Decker. I would go post up in the garment loft. I brought my quilting project and my sewing machine and honestly just had the best time.

I would spend the entire day working on this. I would make a few trips around the musuem to talk to guests. I even had someone from the church come back to the garment loft to talk about art and religion. He for sure was trying to convert me but no one is going to tell me something I don't already know. I think religion is incredibly human. Wanting meaning, purpose, to feel like everything matters, that they matter. And I think that's great that people find comfort in community.

But mostly I worked on my quilt. This is 300 squares. And I would the last 4 rows completed. The way I made this I did 30 sets of 10 and then sewed 3 10s together to have 10 30s. I trimmed those down so the panels would be more even. And then sewed that all together.

I worked from 10 until around 1at that point in the project. I had spoken to 10 or so people. Everyone was really nice.

And after a snack and giving James a lunch break (where they went across the street to check on the bike shop which has apparently been broken into and the police called James for some unknown reason???) I would start figuring out how to turn my quilted panel into a bag.

I think I'm going to try to make a bunch of bags. I used to love making bags and I know how to do a lot of things better now. And while it took a while to make the panel I love how the bag came together. It is such a good size and I can't wait to try to make more with the other quilt panels I've made.

Once the bag was made I started working on straps with some scrap fabric. My first strap came out so good. The second one has some flaws. But I'm still really excited about the whole thing.

Right at the end of the day as I'm attaching the second strap my needle broke. And I didn't have any extras. I was very bummed but at least it happened closer to 3.

We closed the museum. And once James was done counting their drawer we went to have dinner.

We were going to go to iron rooster but they closed at 3 so instead we went to Little Havana and it was so good!

We didn't talk a ton. I think we were both just beat. I did asl James football questions. They ordered a steak sandwich and I got a fancy avacado wanton roll that I loved. I told the waiter how I was excited to eat something interesting. I feel like I never get to eat something unusual but also really pretty. So that was really cool.

We finished our meal with a shared piece of cake. And headed out.

We had to stop at theater project to get James's laptop charger. My belly hurt and I really wanted to get home. And so James took me home as quick as they could.

When we got back here my new clogs came and they are perfect. I can't wait to wear them. I felt better being home. James would get in bed to finish editing their podcast. And I finished the strap on my bag.

We would hang out in bed for a while. And then go and go all of our advents we haven't checked for a few days. We have so much jam now. I'm excited to make cookies tomorrow hopefully.

I took a bath and watched a documentary. I pulled out my quilt fabrics to see how many bags I think I could make with what I have sitting around. I am excited to try that this week. It's a good project to focus on.

Now I am going to go put some more water in the fish tank so it'll be quieter. I just moved some pillows around to make James hopefully more comfy. And I'll start winding down for sleep soon.

I hope tomorrow is beautiful. And we can all feel good. Until next time everyone. Sleep well!!

[chuuciae]

are you a september autumn, october autumn, or november autumn. do you understand what i mean

september is a crisp and breezy gold where the leaves just start to fall and long sleeved clothing feels just right. patches of light still shine through the trees and once in a while you'll get sunshine on a windy chilly day. visiting a local coffee shop and listening to the chatter of those around you and watching the birds gather around outside.

october is a vibrant, but not oversaturated, deep orange where the sky is gray during daylight hours and you see the occasional cat down the street and the wind blows harder with a light drizzle. you dress in warmer, heavier clothing and boots and when you walk down the street there's puddles of rainwater and crumpled leaves on the road. at home you look through the windows and admire all of the decorative lights and swaying trees.

november is a gentle, cozy, low saturated reddish orange where it's cold outside all the time now so you stay huddled in extra warm clothing and blankets. maybe a fireplace if you have the luxury. the rain is almost non-stop and the sky is getting darker earlier and you feel yourself dozing off on the couch while a comforting movie plays. your pet is sleeping soundly and a wax candle burns on your table.

they all have their own feeling to them. if that makes sense

[naominotaisho]

Shōsetsu InuYasha:

Translation By: Patches

Page 133

Chapter 6: Sakasagami no Yura 1 Should she try to get home as soon as possible, or stay in this era while longer and search for the Shikon no Tama with Inuyasha…? As Kagome struggled with which path she should choose, she greeted yet another new morning in Kaede’s house.  Even if she decided she’d rather go straight home to her own time, it wasn’t like she could just go ahead and do that.  There was no guarantee that even if she jumped into that dry well that she would cross through time the same way as she had when she’d come.   Kagome still had one other problem on top of deciding what she should do from here.

Page 134

Something more pressing and urgent.  And that was… a bath.  She really wanted to take one. (I can’t believe it!  They don’t have baths in this era?!)  According to Kaede, there were apparently bath-like structures in the houses of aristocrats and lords, as well as temples, but she didn’t know if they were the same as those in the modern era.  But the houses of normal people had no bathrooms. (Even if she says there’s none, I can’t take it anymore!  I’m covered in blood, I’m covered in mud, and I’m not going to be able to stand staying this way!)  She just wanted a soak in some hot water.  When she was at home, she had nice-smelling bath salts, herb-infused shampoo that made her hair smooth, and body lotion made of olive oil that made her skin soft, but now such things were unattainable luxuries. But she didn’t need any of that right now.  She just wanted some hot water.  That would be enough. When she asked this of Kaede, she briskly replied, “Not possible.”  

Page 135

Even so, after some more pestering, she relented. “I suppose it cannot be helped.  While I cannot help you with hot water… well, come with me,” she beckoned. Things seemed to be looking up, but instead she was led to a river.  “This is where the children often bathe themselves in the summer.  However… it is quite cold.” “It… it does look cold."  It was almost the end of autumn now.  On top of that, today had been a cloudless, windy day.  The wind chill was quite low.  Not to mention this place was just a river, so there was nothing to obstruct prying eyes. "Whatever, I’m getting in!"  Kagome had made up her mind.  If she couldn’t get any hot water, cold water was fine.  She didn’t care if it was cold or chilly or if there was a danger of someone seeing her…. "I see, I understand,” Kaede said, assisting her.  First, to the villagers she said, “Kagome-sama is going to be purifying herself.  It is for the sake of strengthening her spiritual power.  If a man were to see her, a terrible punishment from the heavens will befall you,” her face taking on a chillingly eerie expression.

Page 136

She also brought out a miko outfit for a change of clothes.  It seemed to have originally been Kikyou’s.  And so that Kagome wouldn’t catch cold once she got out of the river, she started a fire on the bank. “There, Kagome, now all should be well.” “Thank you."  She used the shade of a rock near the shore in place of a changing room and swiftly removed her uniform and undergarments.  With a brisk movement, she jumped completely into the water. "C-c-c-c-cooold!"  She instinctively wanted to jump out of the water due to the chill, but somehow she managed to bear it and submerged herself in the current.  "Brrrrr….."  Her teeth were rattling. "Kagome, do not push yourself and come out,” Kaede called from beside a warm-looking fire on the shore.  But she couldn’t just give in here.  Kagome would bear it with all her might.

Page 137

After a while, her body got used to it.  It gave her some time to look around.  The river was full of beautiful, pristine water.  The bright late autumn sunlight streamed straight to the bottom of the clear water, making shining patterns of light on the river bottom.  She could clearly see the rocks on the bottom, along with green water plants swaying as though they were waving, as well as several fish darting amongst the plants. (This is probably the river that runs behind my school.)  But it was hardly possible to imagine this being the same river as the one in her era, as that one had much less water, and it was murky and polluted… Kagome bounced along the bottom of the river on her tiptoes.  The water was deeper here, so she slowly swam around.  Her body that had been soiled by the touch of Mukade Jourou and Shibugarasu felt like it was being purified by the clear water. She suddenly remembered she’d been bitten by Mukade Jourou and looked at her side.  She could still see a faint scar, but it had practically already healed. (I wonder why, given that I was bitten so badly?  Is it really because I’m Kikyou’s reincarnation?)

Page 138

Kaede had no doubt anymore that Kagome was Kikyou’s reincarnation.  That’s why she gave Kagome the task of finding the shards of the Shikon no Tama. (But I don’t even believe in myself.  Yeah, I’ve been able to see the light from the Shikon no Tama so far, but I don’t know if I’ll always be able to.)  And then there was… (I’m supposed to join forces with Inuyasha, but he hates me.  And for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with me… something about whatever happened between him and Kikyou in the past…)  There was no way they’d be able to find the Shikon no Tama together if he kept up that attitude. As she was thinking that, Kagome happened to turn her eyes upward and froze with a start.  Inuyasha was on a cliff protruding by the riverbank, staring right in her direction. “S… Sit!!” The moment she said that, Inuyasha instantly struck the riverbank below the cliff with a “Gueh!” that sounded like a squashed frog.

Page 139

“Oh, were you there, Inuyasha?"  Kaede turned her head towards him looking not the least bit surprised as she continued to tend to the fire. "D, dammit, I forgot about the kotodama(1) rosary."  Inuyasha struck the ground with his fist in frustration.  During that time, Kagome hurriedly exited the river and moved to the makeshift changing room in the shadow of the rock. (I can’t believe it!  He’s a peeping tom!)  The blood went to her face as her stomach churned.  "You’re disgusting, sneeking around spying like that!” she complained as she peeked her head out from behind the rock. “Aah?"  Still on his belly, Inuyasha looked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about.  "You thought I was peeping?  Keh, you’re an idiot.” “Wh, what’s so idiotic about it?!” “Hah.  I was just…” But Kaede interrupted him.  “You came to steal the Shikon no Tama shard, I would assume.” Kagome couldn’t believe her ears. (1) “Kotodama” (言霊) means “power of words” and is used to define Inuyasha’s rosary

Page 140

(Eh?  So he didn’t come here to peep?) As if to confirm Kaede’s suspicions, Inuyasha defiantly replied, “You figured that out, Kaede-babaa?” “It is useless.  The Shikon no Tama shard has been entrusted to me for the time being,” she said showing him a peek of the shard kept in a charm bag. “Ahhh, dammit!"  Inuyasha’s face showed full of disappointment. (Wh, what’s up with that!!)  Kagome felt the blood rush to her face further.  She’d already been flushed when she thought he was peeping, but now that it had turned out he’d come to steal the Shikon no Tama shard, for some reason her anger had only multiplied. Kagome quickly put on the miko outfit that Kaede had prepared for her.  She was lucky that her house was a shrine.  She would wear miko garb for the New Year at the request of her grandfather, and for the summer festivals she would wear a yukata.  Because of this, she was able to put on the kimono herself. During this time, she overheard the exchange between Kaede and Inuyasha.

Page 141

“Goodness, I gave you too much credit before.  No sooner had I told you to combine your power and gather the Shikon no Tama shards, and you are already plotting to steal it.” “I wasn’t planning to steal it!” “Oh?"  Kaede didn’t give any indication that she believed him at all. "I just figured it would be safer if I hung onto it.” “I see…” “I ain’t lyin’!  Look, I said I’d hook up with that disgusting woman in order to get the Shikon no Tama back!"  As he said that, Inuyasha turned around as he had noticed Kagome come out from behind the rock, whether by scent or by sound. But when he turned around… "Ah…?!"  Inuyasha’s eyes went wide. "How rude!  Calling me disgusting.  Do you really hate me that much?"  But it didn’t look like he was listening to her.  Inuyasha’s face stiffened and he skittered back from her like a spooked animal.

Page 142

He remained in that position simply staring at Kagome. “What’s with that attitude?!” “Shaddup.” “‘Shaddup’ isn’t an answer!” “Now now, settle down.” When Kaede attempted to get between them a woman holding a child by the hand came rushing in, out of breath.  “Kaede-sama!” “What happened, Ine?” The woman called Ine’s face was pale.  “My daughter back home… Kiyo suddenly collapsed!” “What?  Kiyo?!"  Kaede rose quickly.  It seemed that she wasn’t just a miko, but acted as a doctor as well.  "Kagome, Inuyasha, I shall return to the village ahead of you to see to this matter."  She handed over the charm bag containing the Shikon no Tama fragment to Kagome.  "Now, no more fighting.”

Page 143

With those parting words, she left with Ine. (Ugh, I’ve got a bad feeling being alone together with him…)  Kagome glanced at Inuyasha.  As soon as she did, he turned his nose up and looked off to the sky.  She had a pretty good guess as to why he would behave so blatantly unnaturally. (It’s Kikyou.)  Wearing this miko garb, Kagome had to look even more like Kikyou now.  (But so what!  I seriously don’t get it!)  Ignoring him, she went to the riverbank to wash her uniform and hang it on some branches in lieu of a clothes line.  Through all of this, she could feel Inuyasha’s gaze on her back.  (It’s like he can’t look away from me…) Suddenly, Inuyasha opened his mouth.  “Hey.” “What?” “Take off your clothes.” “Take off…?!”

Page 144

Kagome was speechless.  The blood in her body surged with a shriek, and before she’d realized it she’d hit Inuyasha on the head.  If she could have, she would have gotten some huge rock off the riverbank and smashed it over his head with all her might. “Y, you bitch, what was that for?!” “You’re disgusting!” This time it was Inuyasha to be angered by Kagome’s words.  “Don’t get the wrong idea!  I didn’t say get naked!  I just meant to change back into that weird kimono of yours!” he said, pointing at her sailor uniform. “Hmm.” “What?” “Is it because I look like Kikyou?” she cut right to the chase. “That’s got nothin’ to do with it."  Inuyasha turned and faced away, making a forceful grunt.  He might say it had nothing to do with it, but just looking at him made it obvious that it had everything to do with it. (It’s like he’s still in grade school!)

Page 145

Even Souta probably wouldn’t act this obviously immaturely…  (I guess there’s nothing I can do about it…)  Kagome conceded a little and decided to try some casual conversation.  “Look, if we’re going to have to work together from now on, you can’t just start picking fights over everything…” However… “Keh!"  It didn’t appear that her partner had the slightest interest in making conversation.  "I’m fine with it.  I can collect the Shikon no Tama shards all by myself.” Snap.  Something inside of Kagome snapped audibly.  “Ah, I see.  So you’d be fine without me."  With that, she gathered up her still-wet sailor uniform and shuffled off. "Hn?  Where do you think you’re goin’?” “I’ve made my decision.  I’m going home.  Good bye, Inuyasha.” “Going home… hey!"  Inuyasha stood up impatiently.

Page 146

“What, you can’t stop me."  But even more maddeningly, Inuyasha didn’t actually try to stop her. "Just leave the jewel shard here, then.” (Ugh… this guy would do anything for the jewel, wouldn’t he.)  Dumbfounded, Kagome said, “Oh, this?” and produced the charm bag containing the jewel from her bosom and dangled it in front of Inuyasha’s nose as if to show it off.  And then… “Ah!"  Inuyasha’s face turned greedy. "Sit!” she said with a sharp voice. “Damn you~!” Inuyasha growled with a resentful voice while planted into the ground, but she didn’t care. “I’ll hang on to this."  Kagome kept walking without turning around.  Heading towards the forest with the dry well.

Page 147

2 “This way, Kaede-sama."  Ine led Kaede to her house outside the village.  Kaede remembered how panicked she’d been.  Ine’s daughter Kiyo had been healthy since she was a baby and rarely even caught colds.  What could have happened that would cause her to suddenly collapse…? "She was fine just this morning…” Ine explained as she opened the door.  In the cramped room, Kiyo was lying down with her eyes closed, her face pale. “Let me see…"  Kaede came close to examine her, but took an unexpected breath.  She could tell just with her one eye.  Kiyo had no ordinary condition. (Someone has captured her soul…?!)

Page 148

Someone.  Yes, there was no doubt it was the work of someone evil… “Ine, get down!"  As though prompted by Kaede’s voice, Kiyo’s blank eyes opened.  And not just that, but her body limply hung in the air. "What’s wrong, Kiyo!” Ine called to her daughter in a distraught voice.  But Kiyo gave no response.  Her daughter had always laughed, cried, and made all sorts of faces, but now her face showed no sign of vitality or emotion.  Like she was just a doll…  Like some puppet being manipulated by a puppeteer, Kiyo hung in the air with both arms spread wide. (Uh!)  Kaede was appalled.  She could see many thin strands attached to Kiyo’s arms and legs.  (Are these the threads controlling her?!  No, they are not threads…  They are… strands of hair?!)  They weren’t something that could be seen just by looking carefully.  They would merely vanish and reappear, only faintly visible.

Page 149

But there was no doubt.  It was hair.  Countless long, thin hairs were manipulating Kiyo’s body like puppet strings. A knife was laying discarded on the dirt floor.  It suddenly floated into the air.  She could see that it was being manipulated by strands of hair attached to it, just like Kiyo. The knife flew towards Kiyo.  The fingers on Kiyo’s right hand opened and caught the knife, gripping it firmly. “Oh no!"  Kaede backed off in a panic.  However, Kiyo swung down the knife a moment earlier.  Without any hesitation, she aimed straight for Kaede… 3 She saw the dry well through the grove.  Yesterday she’d been kidnapped by bandits right around here.

Page 150

So as to not have a repeat of that unfortunate event, Kagome carefully gave a look around the area to make sure there was no one else around before approaching the dry well. (I’m going home.  No matter what, I’m going home.)  Her only reservation was having not said a single word to Kaede before leaving this era.  (I didn’t even thank her for taking care of me, and I’m still borrowing these miko clothes from her, so I won’t be able to give them back.) And then of course there was the Shikon no Tama that she’d shattered with her arrow…  (But, there’s nothing I can do about that, right…?)  So long as Inuyasha had that attitude of his, even if Kagome remained in this era it would be impossible to gather the Shikon no Tama shards.  (So there’s no reason for me to stay here any longer…) As if shaking off her doubts, Kagome rushed to the dry well.  She knew it was probably pretty deep, but she had every intention of just jumping right in. But… Peeking inside, Kagome hesitated.  (Bones…!)

Page 151

From the gloom at the bottom of the well, she could see many shining white monsterous bones.  There were still patches of fresh blood in places. Now that she thought of it, Jii-chan had mentioned, “That well is called the ‘Bone-Eater’s Well’ because long ago it was used to dispose of the remains of mononoke."  Kaede had also said the same thing: "The Bone-Eater’s Well is where we dispose of the remains of mononoke."  She had also said, "After a number of days, the corpses disappear to somewhere.” (So these bones are Mukade Jourou’s…)  A chill ran down Kagome’s back.  When she looked closer, there were a lot of similarly-shaped bones.  Small cylindrical bones with sharp pieces resembling elephant tusks protruding from both sides.  They were no doubt the bones of Mukade Jourou’s lower body.  Sections of that centipede part… “No… I don’t want to go in there…"  Kagome’s memory of being caught by that centipede body and almost suffocated resurfaced, and she shakily sank down where she stood.

Page 152

(What do I do…)  If what Kaede said was true and those bones disappeared after a few days, she could probably wait that long and try to leave again.  The thought of having to touch Mukade Jourou’s bones made her sick, not to mention if she jumped in on top of those sharp bones, she’d get impaled and end up with severe injuries, or if she was really unlucky, dead… Flap flap!  The sudden sound of birds wings snapped Kagome back to her senses.  When she turned around, she saw a sparrow had fallen on the ground. “…!"  Kagome gasped.  It was like it had been cut by an incredibly sharp blade.  Its body had been cut in two, and its wings had also been severed, and as though it hadn’t realized what happened to it, was still twitching on the ground. (What happened to it?!)  Probably the work of a new youkai.  (Has another youkai appeared seeking the Shikon no Tama shard?!  Is it watching me from somewhere close by?!)

Page 153

Seized by fear, Kagome stood up.  But when she did, a sharp pain ran along her cheek.  “Ah!"  When she touched it, she found that it was bleeding. She looked around again in astonishment.  Many thin threads were spread along that side.  When the sunlight reflected on them, they looked like a spiderweb for trapping prey. (No, they’re not threads… they’re strands of hair!)  But they couldn’t be ordinary strands of hair.  It was some sort of special hair strong enough to be a weapon…  And when it had touched Kagome’s cheek, it had cut it.  And it wasn’t just her cheek.  When she looked, the sleeves of her miko outfit had also been cut in several places.  The same must have happened to that poor sparrow.  It had unknowingly flown into them and had become a sacrifice to this dreadful trap. (To be capable of this, it has to be a youkai…!)  Vigilantly, she looked around again. "Hmm, so you can see them,” came a voice suddenly.

Page 154

“…!"  She turned around, careful not to touch the hair surrounding her, and saw the owner of the voice.  (A girl?!) She looked maybe two or three years older than Kagome… if she was in the modern era, she’d probably be in high school.  She didn’t look like a youkai, but an ordinary human.  Her hair was cut in a bob style and she wore a red ribbon in her hair as a headband.  She was wearing an oddly sexualized black leather kimono that was open wide in the chest and hardly covered half her thighs.  She had large eyes and white skin, her lips red like cherries.  She could easily be said to be an idol or a model. All of the hairs surrounding her were attached to the fingers of both the girl’s hands.  She was standing atop one of the tightly stretched strands of hair.  It was reminiscient of a spider lying in wait for its prey atop its web. (Unlike Mukade Jourou and Shibugarasu, she looks completely human, but… is she really a youkai, too?) She took her time looking Kagome over, saying, "I’m surprised that you’re able to see my ‘Kushi no Kago’(1).” (1) “Kushi no Kago” literally means “comb cage”, however it’s written with the kanji for “hair cage”.

Page 155

Page 156

“….!” “But just seeing it still does you no good.” “Who are you?” Kagome asked. “Sakasagami no Yura,” she revealed, giving a bewitching smile.  “But you don’t have to remember it.  Since this is the end for you,” she declared calmly as she quickly moved the fingers of her right hand.  The hair surrounding her glistened as if given a life of its own, wriggling around Kagome like some kind of animal.  Her kimono and hakama were becoming damaged. Kagome tried to instinctively cover her face, but Yura’s aim wasn’t Kagome’s body.  A single strand of hair moved quickly and slipped into Kagome’s bosom, taking hold of the charm bag containing the Shikon no Tama shard. “Ah!"  By the time she’d noticed, the charm bag was already in Yura’s hand. "U-fufu…"  As she laughed, she took a peek into the charm bag, but, "Oh my, what happened to my precious Shikon no Tama?”

Page 157

She had a look of astonishment as she scritinized the shard. “G, give that back!” Kagome shouted forcefully. “No way."  Yura calmly returned the shard to the bag, then smirked.  "You may die now.” “Eh…!?”   Yura rushed at Kagome as she drew a small sword from her hip.  Byuu!  The cold flash of the sword passed right in front of Kagome’s eyes.   “Ah!"  Kagome drew back reflexively.  "Eeek!"  But the well was just behind her.  Kagome lost her balance and tipped over the edge of the well, falling inside.  Straight towards the floor littered with Mukade Jourou’s bones.

Page 158

4 Although she saw the miko fall into the well, Sakasagami no Yura didn’t really rush.  “You can’t escape!"  To ensure the miko was finished off, she threw her sword into the well.  Naturally there was a strand of hair tied around the sword’s handle.  She could manipulate it better that way than in her hand.  "Now die!” However, something was strange.  She never felt anything hit.  “Hm?!” She retrieved the sword with the strand of hair.  There wasn’t a drop of blood on it. Yura stood on the edge of the well and peered down inside it.  “She’s gone!"  The well was empty.  All she could see was the damp soil on the bottom.

Page 159

(What happened?  Where’d that girl go?)  She had absolutely no clue.  That girl had to have been the reincarnated miko who carried a shard of the Shikon no Tama that Yura had heard about.  Even though she was human, to be able to see Yura’s “Kushi no Kago”, she had to have considerable spiritual power. “Well, none of my business anymore."  Yura shrugged her shoulders.  The Shikon no Tama shard that she’d desired was already in her possession.  So who cared where that miko went anymore.  There was no reason to let it preoccupy her. (All that’s left is that hanyou called Inuyasha.  I’ll have to take his head for myself.)  With a swoosh, Yura gathered all of the hair surrounding her into her hands.  This was starting to become interesting, and Yura began to hum a little song.

Next Chapter >>

[steamishot]

holidays

the holidays are over and there's some post-holiday blues. this is better than the holiday blues that i've experienced previously, haha. i have a longer time to settle back into reality because the first week back at work was very slow and chill. all of the managers in HR, as well as some of my colleagues were out of office. my teammate L has officially left us to go to a different department. the work that i transferred over to her when i received a promotion will likely fall back on me again. our immediate team has had a very low turnover rate. S, L, I and i have all been part of our academic team for 4 years now and there was only one switch for the 5th person. however, it makes sense for L to jump because she's still young (3 years older than me).

sometimes, i find it difficult to transition between the lifestyles between NYC and here because it's so different. i'm definitely feeling some "in-betweener" symptoms. yesterday, SZ and i checked out a local yoga class in echo park at 9am. the first thing she said when i picked her up was that it's so windy and chilly outside, and that she was gonna be blown away by the wind (which in my mind was normal tolerable wind). then, when i got to yoga class, so many other people were talking about how windy and cold it has been. the yoga instructor even thanked people for coming out on such a chilly morning. i had no idea because my baseline of cold and wind has now changed, and i was oblivious to the wind/chill because it's way more tolerable and pleasant than the cold weather in NYC. i've been feeling really confused about how "cold" things are supposed to be to be considered cold now.

job search updates: matt had a 30 minute interview with COH last thursday, and we're in the process of setting up one with kaiser woodland hills. but no updates on LA general, UCI, or UCLA. the interview with LA general was back in late november, and we are hoping for an update this month. gah, i hate this anticipation and uncertainty. i explained in therapy that interviewing feels like a black hole sometimes. you expend so much effort into this one thing (prepping, and interviews that are sometimes 5 hours long) for it to be a gamble whether or not you move on. i've again started feeling more discouraged and pessimistic as time passes.

relationship: i've been feeling emotionally disconnected recently. it's just been difficult with his long work hours, on top of preppping for interviewing and interviewing, that our quality time together has been very limited. the last time i was back in LA, i felt depressed/sad that we were back to where we started - long distance with nothing to show for it. however, i feel more optimistic this time around and am seeing it in a more positive light. i am getting the human interaction/community feeling that i was craving, and he's getting the space to unwind after work and do his own thing without someone constantly there (and bugging him). although i miss him, the space does allow for us to focus on our own things, rather than always be intertwined due in part because of the small space. i'm proud of him that he's learning to human, take care of all his chores and make healthier meals, make time to gym/run. matt will be flying back to LA again tomorrow (he's working really hard) and we'll fly back to NYC together this sunday.

limbo: although i feel like our lives have been in limbo, not having roots in a specific place and always on the go, i am grateful that i have solid connections and some kinda roots on both coasts now. i was able to meet up with M&J and SZ this time around, and also met a bunch of family members. on the east coast, S&I are already planning for a double date home-cooked meal at their apartment (which i feel is reserved for close friends/family so it is a privilege), R&T will have a bday celebration in march, and T would like to celebrate my birthday with me. matt also booked another staycation at the equinox as my birthday gift. 🥰 although being in limbo and forced to be flexible has been difficult for me (as a rigid person), i'm trying to focus more on the positives of my situation instead. in LA, i also had the privilege of celebrating christmas and new years with our families. i'll also be going to vegas this week with matt's family, meeting up with previous coworkers and attending my nieces bday party this weekend before heading back.

LA winter: this is also the first winter that i've ever WFH in LA. besides it getting darker and colder, i don't remember that winter had that much of an effect on me when i was commuting to the office. it was the same ish everyday/autopilot. now, i've been getting sleepy at like 7pm because it gets dark at 4pm. i also don't feel inclined to leave the house when it's dark. it's been harder to get up in the mornings because the bed is too comfortable and warm. and i do feel myself getting lazier to workout because of the cold.

life: my dad's cousin/family member passed away recently at 80. it was sad because my family had just had dinner with their family a few months ago and he seemed fine. we grew up meeting with their family periodically since i was little, and they were the only reason we would ever eat at vegetarian restaurants. my dad will be attending the funeral this week. this is the closest "family" member's death that we've had in america in a while. when my parents were on the cruise, they also learned of another friend's death. recently, my mom's cousin in france also passed away after battling cancer. i've never seen my parents cry, get emotional, or grieve over someone's death. it's always been a stoic understanding of "this is part of life". at their age 60+, death seems like a frequent topic ("did you hear this person died?" etc). it reminds me to stay present and cherish the times we have with all our loved ones.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

a light at the end of the tunnel

prompt: comfort

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi here's my 31st and final fic this month!!! how the time flies...anyway this fic is set current times-ish (though full disclosure i am behind by two episodes) and is pre-buddie. hope you like it!

It has been a hellishly long week. It’s the tail end of it now, a rainy, windy Saturday evening. Eddie is lying atop his bed fully clothed with his eyes screwed shut, trying to force himself to fall asleep. 

It’s not working. He feels like there’s electricity buzzing under his skin, like he can’t quite breathe properly, like there’s a weight sitting on top of his chest. 

It’s too much. This week has been too much and the silence of his empty house is too much and he never should have agreed to let Chris go on that overnight trip to the aquarium because if he hadn’t then his son would be here and Eddie would be able to exist. 

But he’s alone. The rain drums on the roof and the wind whistles at the window. He gives up on keeping his eyes closed and stares up at the dark ceiling. 

He wants…he wants something. He doesn’t know what it is. It isn’t this, though. This crushing weight on top of him and the low-level anxiety rippling through his body. 

His phone rings. The sound startles him, momentarily distracts him from himself. 

It’s Buck. He picks up, squinting at the bright light of the screen. 

“Yeah?” He’s surprised by how normal his own voice sounds. 

“Hey, Eddie. Do you wanna come over and, uh, watch a movie or something? I know Chris is at the aquarium and we’re off tomorrow and I’m so bored and I was wondering if you were bored too -”

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Great, yeah, okay. See you soon.”

Eddie stares down at his phone for a few seconds. It’s earlier than he’d thought - not even 8:00. The thought of dragging himself up and driving to Buck’s is unpleasant, but the thought of being at Buck’s, of not being alone, of having someone to distract him from everything, is wonderful. 

And so he gets up. He’s still dressed, so at least he doesn’t have to bother with that. He scrubs a hand over his eyes as though he’d actually done any sleeping and then grabs his keys and heads outside. 

He jogs through the rain to his truck. The chilly air fills his lungs and makes them burn, but it’s pleasant, sort of grounding. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the scent of the rain, then climbs into the driver’s seat and sets off. 

It’s not until he’s knocking at Buck’s door that he wonders whether he should have brought something. But it’s too late to do anything about that now. 

Buck opens the door and raises his eyebrows. “What, did you lose your key?”

Eddie blinks. His key to Buck’s apartment is in his pocket. He knows he has it. He has no idea why he’d decided to knock. 

He shrugs and follows Buck inside. Now that he’s here, he’s all of a sudden not certain that being here is the best idea. He feels…on edge. Like one tiny thing might cause him to explode, to collapse. 

“Come on,” Buck says. “I’ve got pizza. It’s a little bit cold, but…”

“I’m not really hungry,” Eddie replies. He tries to smile, to wave it off. He can feel himself failing.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

He can’t not say yes. He figures it’s probably hardwired into his brain. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Oh,” says Buck. “We don’t…we don’t have to watch a movie, then.”

But if they don’t watch a movie then there’s no reason for Eddie to be here. And he doesn’t want to go home. Even though he does feel weird, like he isn’t sure that being here is smart when he feels like something in him might crack, he can’t imagine leaving. 

“No, no, I’ll be okay. I’ll try not to fall asleep on you.”

Buck shrugs. “If you’re sure. You want anything to drink?”

Eddie shakes his head. All he really wants to do is sit down. 

He gets his wish. They sit on Buck’s new couch, which isn’t actually new. It’s secondhand and well-worn. Eddie sinks into it so deeply that he wonders whether he’s going to simply fall through the bottom. 

“Any preference?”

Eddie stares at the TV without actually seeing anything. “Up to you.”

Buck deliberates silently but intensely for several minutes. Eddie watches him. And then catches himself watching, and stops. 

Buck settles on a movie Eddie’s never seen, some old detective film shot in black and white. Eddie stares at the opening credits until his eyes start to water. God, he’s tired. 

He’s not sure how long they’ve been watching the movie - or rather, how long Buck’s been watching and Eddie’s been staring - when Buck gently taps him on the shoulder. 

“Eddie.”

“Hm?” He shakes his head slightly, turns to look at Buck. 

“You sure you’re alright? You seem…I dunno. Off.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s nothing.” His chest feels tight again. Maybe he should just leave. It’s the last thing in the world he truly wants, but. He’s put himself upon Buck too many times before. 

And by this point he knows Buck doesn’t mind, doesn’t think any less of him for breaking, for being unable to hold himself together. But he can’t entirely force himself to believe that. It’s complicated. 

“It’s not nothing to me. If something’s wrong. That’s not nothing, Eddie.”

He shrugs again. Part of him is screaming to just talk, to tell Buck his stupid problems and be comforted about them. Another part is screaming, just as loudly, that he can’t do this, isn’t allowed, shouldn’t want to. 

“Eddie, please.”

He takes a breath that kind of shudders on the inhale. “It’s not even…there’s nothing really wrong. It’s just. I don’t know, everything? Not everything. It’s this week. I don’t…a lot of bad calls, Chris was angry at me, weird conversation with my mom, I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s like this.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Buck says. He’s moved closer to Eddie at some point. Their legs are touching now. Buck’s hand is on his shoulder. “Sometimes it’s just like that, you know? Too much happening all at once.”

“But it shouldn’t - I shouldn’t -”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Eds. That stuff doesn’t matter. It’s okay to just…to just be overwhelmed sometimes.”

Eddie doesn’t know if he can make himself believe that. But Buck sounds so sincere and he wants to believe it, he thinks. He wants…

He wants a fucking hug. Which is the most embarrassing thing in the world to realize, to admit to himself. He feels his face heat slightly just from the thought. He wants to just be held for a little while and forget about everything else. 

But he can’t have this, because he’s incapable of asking and it’s not like Buck can read his mind. 

“You still with me?” Buck asks. His hand is still on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing gently. This is good enough, Eddie supposes. The pressure of Buck’s leg against his and that point of contact, warm and sturdy, on his shoulder. It has to be enough. 

Eddie nods a slightly belated response to Buck’s question. 

“Is there anything I can do? I mean, I know you said you didn’t want anything to drink but I can make coffee, or tea, or something, or…”

Eddie shakes his head. He closes his eyes. Despite his best efforts otherwise he can feel a pressure in his head, feel the prickling sensation of tears. He’s going to cry over, what, having a rough week? No. Absolutely not. 

“Hey,” Buck says. Eddie carefully opens his eyes, looks over again. Buck is looking back at him and he looks so fucking open and concerned and all Eddie can think is how easy it would be to just lean in a little, to rest his head against Buck’s collarbone but he can’t, isn’t supposed to, shouldn’t want to. 

And then Buck is leaning forward and Buck is slowly wrapping arms around him and it’s clear he’s just waiting for Eddie to pull away but Eddie absolutely is not going to do that. 

After a beat Buck apparently realizes this, too, and then he’s putting a hand on the back of Eddie’s head and running fingers through his hair and Eddie finally does rest his head against Buck’s collarbone. 

He can hear Buck’s heartbeat like this, steady and even. Almost immediately the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin goes quiet. There’s still a sort of pressure in his chest but he takes a few deep breaths, inhaling the familiar smell of Buck, and it feels like the weight pushing down on him has lessened. 

They stay like this for quite a while, Eddie leaning on Buck and breathing deeply and feeling the tension and stress fade away. Buck, for his part, just holds on, lets Eddie lean on him. His fingers are still in Eddie’s hair and it’s one of the nicest things Eddie has ever felt in his life. 

He thinks he’d probably be willing to stay in this position forever, but now that all of the overwhelming sensations have abated, Eddie’s well and truly exhausted. He can’t stop himself from yawning against Buck’s shoulder. 

“You tired?” Buck asks. 

Eddie sort of nods. He is tired, but he really doesn’t want to move. 

“Do you want the bed? I know the couch isn’t the best, so -”

Eddie cuts Buck off with a shake of the head. “Couch is good.”

“Do you…uh, do you want me to stay?”

He does. It takes him several long seconds to work himself up to nod. It feels like admitting something terrible at the same time as it feels like getting something he’s wanted for a very long time. 

They do some readjusting - or, mostly, Buck does some readjusting. Eddie is too tired to do much work. 

He ends up lying across the couch with his head pillowed on Buck’s legs. Buck’s fingers are once again carding through his hair. It still feels like the nicest thing in the world. Eddie feels…content, for the first time in what feels like ages. 

He is finally able to fall asleep.

thanks for reading! that's a wrap on whumptober 2022 and with that i am a completionist for four years running! it's been a slightly crazy month but i've had a great time and i hope you've enjoyed whichever fics you've read!!!! love you all sm <3

[theskywaslookingback]

this art from @cutawaytulip​ gave my jontim brainworms so i had to write something for it, obviously

“Come on in, make yourself at home.” Tim says, throwing open the door to his flat and flicking on the light. It illuminates the sitting room with a kitchenette off to the side, a short hall that leads to the bedroom and bath. There’s still boxes piled in the corner of the sitting room, half unpacked next to a short and squat bookshelf, comics lining the top two shelves and a couple of hardbacks making use as bookends. His couch was a pick from the charity shop, an ugly shade of pea green covered in what once might have charitably been called flowers but look more like patches of mold. There's a rickety table placed in front of it, a pile of coasters stacked at the center - a gift from Sasha when Tim moved in a couple weeks ago.

“It’s...nice.” Jon says, wrinkling his nose a bit in obvious distaste. His socked feet curl into the carpet, his shoes set neatly next to the front door.

Tim laughs and dumps his messenger bag on his tiny kitchen table. It wobbles a bit, the legs a little uneven that he hasn’t bothered to fix yet. Some unopened mail flutters to the floor. There’s a couple of mugs sitting in the drying rack and Tim takes them out, heading for the coffee pot almost on autopilot. “Coffee?” He asks.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Jon says from the sitting room. 

Tim hums in acknowledgement. He’s been making coffee for himself and Jon for over a year now. Jon prefers tea in the morning and afternoon, but when they plan to stay up late for research then they both gravitate toward coffee. Hell, he even has a mug that he designated Jon’s for nights like this - a pale yellow with lines on it, made to look like a library card. There’s always the smallest smile on Jon’s face when he sees it, like he’s delighted but trying to hide behind a veneer of pretentious apathy. 

Jon’s got his laptop out on the coffee table by the time Tim gets out with their coffee, papers strewn over the table and across the cushions of the couch. Tim makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Already, Jon?”

“What?”

Tim gestures at the piles of research vaguely, almost spilling coffee over his hand.

Jon takes his mug. “Is that not why I’m here?”

“Is it?” Tim gins, raising an eyebrow. “Sure there’s no other reason? A little Netflix and chill?” He’s joking, of course, he knows Jon has never expressed any interest in him in that way. Just a harmless flirtation, meant only to bring a little bit of heat to Jon’s face and neck. 

And that it does, the tips of his ears burning a ruddy red at the implication. “Tim-”

“Kidding, kidding.” Tim says, brushing some papers away to sit next to him. “What are we looking at?”

Jon huffed. “Nothing exciting for now. Tax forms for case #0022711.”

“Ah, was that the arson one?”

Jon elbows Tim in the side lightly. “We don’t know that it was arson.”

“No, right, it was the spooky fire lady, right, okay.”

“Just--” Jon sighs and shoves a handful of records into Tim’s lap, “Help me with this.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Night falls slow and easy during the silence between them broken only intermittently by the scratch of pen on paper and clack of keys on Jon’s laptop. Tim gets up to refill their coffee and takes a moment just to watch Jon, glasses sliding down his nose and brow screwed up as he tries to make sense of sixty years worth of tax fraud and insurance claims. He can’t stop the smile that breaks out at the corners of his mouth, fond at the way Jon shoves at his glasses with his thumb and surely leaves smudges on the glass.

“What?” Jon asks after a moment, startling him out of his reverie.

“Nothing.” Tim says, “Might be about time for a break though.”

Jon hums, pats his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He holds them up to Tim, a question and offer all in one.

“Get your shoes on. We’re not smoking in here.”

Jon wrinkles his nose. “It’s cold outside.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

“Ugh,” Jon says. He stands and stretches, going to the door to pull on his shoes.

They take the access stairs up to the roof. There’s a little garden area off to one side, with a low brick wall to sit on. Tim sets out an ash tray while Jon lights two cigarettes, handing one off to Tim. They sit down side by side, Jon leaning a little into Tim’s side for warmth, his elbows on his knees.

Jon looks up, blowing out smoke. “It’s nice up here.” 

Tim hums in agreement. It’s hard to see the stars anywhere in London, but he thinks he can make out the faint pin pricks of light amongst the clouds and bright lights of the city shining up from below. The moon is a faint slice of light, grinning down at them. He looks back down at Jon and can’t stop the smile from forming.

It’s a bit windy, and almost too chilly to be up here without their coats, but Tim wouldn’t trade it for anything. He puts his hand down on the wall between them, fingers splayed loosely. Jon doesn’t look away from the sky but his hand twitches before moving down to set on top of Tim’s loosely curling their fingers together. It sets Tim’s heart off beating hard in his chest and he forces himself not to say anything, not to stare. 

He can take this slow, he can. Jon was the first friend he’d made after...well, after the hardest time he’d ever had in his life. He wouldn’t trade that for anything. Gently, so gently, he squeezes Jon’s hand with his own and watches Jon’s mouth curl into a smile.

They have time.

They have so much time.

[also on ao3]

[gingerteaonthetardis]

𝟛𝟙 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕖𝕔. 𝟙𝟟

in which the doctor and rose go on their honeymoon.

pairing: ten x rose // rating: general // read on ao3. // read yesterday’s prompt. // @doctorroseprompts​

-

Their idea for a honeymoon had been deceptively simple.

The agreement was that they would go on something of a world tour. Rose had already seen so much of the surrounding universe—or, so she thought, though the Doctor knew better—and she wanted to explore her own home planet a little. A series of short-distance TARDIS hops, constrained to the present day and one tiny little planet. She'd seemed so set on the idea that he hadn’t wanted to argue. Something about their nuptials, she declared, ought to be traditional.

In fact, he'd had to talk her out of taking planes to get around. That, they did disagree over. She’d called it a “real human experience.” He’d called it “a monumental bloody waste of fossil fuels,” which had pretty much ended the almost-argument.

And neither of them could really afford airfare, anyway. Running around saving the universe didn't exactly line one's pockets, he teased. They would just have to take the TARDIS and hope she didn't get them into any trouble.

He took issue with Rose’s dubious expression. But she’d agreed, in the end, and he’d swept her off to their first destination.

When the ship's doors opened to a windy beach and a pale, roaring ocean, Rose was enchanted—and a little suspicious, perhaps understandably. He didn't have the best track record with arriving at intended destinations. Not that he’d told her where he intended them to go.

But of course, she was Rose: the wonder won out. "The sand!" she cried, stepping out onto the beach with a soft tread. "It's black!"

And it was. Studded with shiny black pebbles, the beach stretched out before them in a long, dark strip, broken only by the sight of craggy mountains and stone formations in the distance, shrouded in mist. The sun was low and dim on the horizon. The place seemed mythical, almost. But he knew it wasn't.

"Where are we?" she asked, turning back to him. Her expression was radiant with awe, like she couldn’t believe they were still on Earth. The wind whipped her hair, lashing it mercilessly against her cheeks, which were already going pink with cold. Behind her, the waves crept insistently over the shoreline, white fingers reaching for her.

"Iceland," the Doctor announced confidently. "Earth. The sand is black because of all the volcanic ash.” And then, apropos of nothing: “Told you I could manage it.”

Rose narrowed her eyes, but she was smiling. "Almost. Looks like you skipped us forward a little." Now, that was nit-picking. But she didn’t seem truly bothered. She was too enamoured with the landscape.

Her gaze turned out toward the horizon line, which was smudgy and indistinct. Night was falling fast, the pale sky being swallowed by coming darkness, and Rose seemed to be taking everything in as quickly as she could. Her eyes darted all around, unable to settle.

He stepped out behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist to shield her from the wind. She was wearing a coat, but it was December in Iceland—he knew she’d be getting chilly soon, and he didn’t want her to miss a moment to the shivering cold. 

Tucking his chin atop her head, he replied, "Actually, we didn't move forward at all.” Or, they had, but only by about half a minute. But he didn’t say that. “It's the winter solstice—shorter days, longer nights.” He leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Northern lights.”

“Really?” Her voice alight with wonderment, she tried to turn her head and look back at him, her hair billowing around their faces. “We’ll be able to see them?”

“Mhm,” he nodded warmly. “Now, let’s get you back inside for a minute. It’s only going to get colder, and I want all your fingers left intact.” One hand slid down the length of her arm to hold hers; the chill of her fingers melted away in his relatively warm grasp—one benefit to his ability to self-regulate that sort of thing—and he pulled the digits up close to his mouth to breathe on them. The warmth of his breath puffed in a light cloud over her hand. “Especially this one,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on the cold metal of her wedding band.

“Don’t you fuss. I’m plenty warm enough.” She giggled when he pressed another insistent kiss against that very particular finger. “We should get mittens—nice ones, you know? Made of some real Icelandic wool.”

“But all the shops are closed,” the Doctor objected.

The sun was all but gone now, Rose’s bright smile and the golden glow pouring out of the TARDIS the only sources of light. “Tomorrow, then.” She flexed her fingers against his lips and wiggled further into his hold, banding his other arm around her like a corset. He felt the shifting of her ribs as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, and he felt something like awe—that he was here, now, holding her like this.

His voice came out with a tremor. “And tonight?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to hold my hand,” was her reply. Obediently, his fingers tightened around hers—both hands tangled without hope of escape—unwilling to let go for even a moment. It was a strange, fragile sort of knowledge: that he’d never have to let go again. Not if he didn’t want to.

She’d chosen his hand to hold, forever. 

He nodded, and her hair was like silk against his cheek. “I can do that.”

He could, and did—his hand never left hers as they lay out on the beach, both atop and underneath a mountain of blankets, and watched the stars shift overhead. Their clear, pale brilliance shone even through all Earth’s atmosphere, coming from a great distance to twinkle joyfully at the newlyweds. 

Finally, when the night was deep and dark, the northern lights came as well. The auroras danced overhead, setting the watchers’ face alight with shifting color. Rose was awestruck, her hair a crown of magical, ever-changing hues, reflecting the lights just like the sea did. The Doctor watched—her, and the lights, and then her again—and thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

And then, in the morning, the Doctor acquiesced to Rose’s request: he got her a pair of the warmest, fuzziest, most authentic Icelandic wool mittens they could find, to protect her precious fingers. When Rose smiled in glee, her tongue poking out from between her teeth—

He thought the northern lights had been nothing at all, compared to her.

[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - Fangs Deep

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 9 | Chapter 10 - Fangs Deep | Chap 11 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - mourning, angst, blood thirst (again, no idea how to tag this) 

Author’s note: I just reread @viking-raider​‘s Fangs Deep, to get some inspo for this long fic and darn is it an absolutely wonderful world she built! Such rich characters and well-set out plot. Lovin’ every word of it! Read it if you haven’t yet! 

Now. As I’ll never be able to truly build a world as rich as hers, especially not in this fic, I decided to keep it small, but invest some more words in the castle, history and surroundings in this chapter. Tiny world building ❤️

Thank you darling @thelastsock​, for beta’ing for me!  🌹

Word count: 3.657

Reading music: Arvo Pärt - My Heart’s in the Highlands 

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

A week had passed and the snow had blanketed the world until it was whisper quiet. That was, until now.

Loud bells were chiming in the chilly morning air, making the Master flinch at every beat. *Ding-ding-ding-ding* The steelish echo reached far and wide over the snow-covered tree tops, all the way up to the Master’s anguished ears, his mouth silently cursing his vampiric sensitivity.

It happened on occasion that these bells would ring, but never this long, never this hauntingly. And thus the Master had climbed up the many stairs to the highest tower so he could see what was at hand. And what he saw was quite haunting indeed; a large procession of people, standing out on the semi-rebuilt village square, their faces not joyful at all.

A mourning procession. Not uncommon now winter was in full strength and the crops had failed this year. But not often were these mourning procession this well-attended. This large. Someone had died. And not just anyone. Not even for weddings would the bells toll so long a time, their lilt echoing far and wide. It had to be an important person. Someone..someone..hmm. The Master frowned as the cogs in his old mind started to spin into motion, memories flooding his tired mind.

History will repeat itself. History will repeat itself. History will repeat itself!

--

‘Okay. Everyone in position!’ Lumiere conducted with his candles, the flames dancing around him as the make-shift stage was cleared, a ghostly napkin and the army of “footsoldier” wardrobes ushering aside. Belle sat up from the large reading chair when two small silhouettes appeared in the shadows cast by the large fireplace. It was difficult to decipher what they were until they hesitantly set foot on the stage, eyes blinking in the bright light. A golden hairbrush and a red leather gauntlet. Lumiere cleared his throat, introducing the two new actors on stage. ‘The Queen mother!’ - The hairbrush dipped her head. ‘And Hamlet, prince of Denmark!’ - The gauntlet turned towards Belle, whom smiled warmly. ‘Go on!’ She encouraged.

The gauntlet almost seemed to glow an even deeper shade of red as he curled a finger up to his chest, as if reaching for his heart - thanking her, before bowing to the rest of the audience. Waiting a moment for the hairbrush to also settle, the scene began, throats cleared and the room silent again.

The hairbrush dramatically swivelled ‘round, her back now turned to the audience before she slowly turned her head, bristles crisping.

‘Do not forever with thy vailèd lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust, son!’

Letting out a soft sigh - affectionate as only a mother can do, she turned to Hamlet.

‘Thou know’st ’tis common; all that lives must die,

Passing through nature ..to eternity.’

Belle blinked, settling a little deeper in the chair to hide the sudden discomfort that graced her features. When the furniture had offered to act out this so-called ‘Hamlet’, she hadn’t expected much more than some fun diversion. Their short description of a challenged prince, ghosts and true love had sounded like a good bit of entertainment in the long hours of yet another cold day.

But here she was. Here they were, the enchanted furniture acting out a tale of great betrayal, and dead fathers.. Belle’s neckhair rose as Hamlet let out a despaired sigh - much like the one she was fighting to hold inside. Grabbing onto the arm rests she took a deep settling breath, her eyes peering at Hamlet as he burst out in an emotional monologue.

‘ “Seems,” madam? Nay, it is. I know not “seems.”

’Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor customary suits of solemn black,

Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,

NO, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

NO, nor the dejected havior of the visage,’

He inhaled sharply, as if ready to cry, head hanging low.

‘Together with all forms, moods and shapes of grief,

That can denote me truly. These indeed “seem,”

For they are actions that a man might play;’

A glove finger reached back to his leather heart as he looked back up at the Queen mother.

‘But ‘tis no play, Mother! I have that within which passes show.

Passes the trappings and the suits of woe!’

The room went quiet, except for the crackling of the fire..and a soft sniffle. Belle quickly wiped away the tears that were burning from her watery eyes, hands hiding her torn expression from the furniture’s curious eyes. For a week now she had tried to accept her faith. Accept her father’s death. Her newly found status as an outlaw. And for a week now she had tried to hide her tears.

But no more.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Belle sniffled quietly, quickly wiping away the tears as they watered her heated cheeks, an apologetic smile glueing to her lips. ‘I didn’t..’ *sniff* ‘I didn’t mean to. Oh gods.’ More tears were bound to spill when her voice hiccuped, chest tight with sorrow.

‘Sweet Belle. Oh dear! Do not apologise.’ Hamlet broke out his role to walk up to the mournful maiden. ‘We can delay if you-’ Belle shook her head, more anguished tears bursting from her being, shoulders shaking with grief. ‘I just...Wherever I go...bad things happen.’ She removed her hands, face puffy and red now she watched Hamlet shake his fingers in disagreement. ‘No! Milady!’ He hopped up on her lap with ease, slightly shocking Belle who blinked in surprise. ‘Good things are happening where you are, Belle! Do you not see?!’ He pointed in the direction of the long hallway that led to the main staircase. ‘The Master hasn’t been so lively in years, centuries! And we are most glad to have you in our company. We are!’

The rest of the furniture hummed in agreement, but Belle was inconsolable, more tears springing to the surface. ‘I’m-I’m sorry. I can’t. I--.’ She shook her head and prince Hamlet hesitantly climbed onto the armrest as he noticed she wished to leave, her body not missing a beat as she lifted from the seat. ‘I just need a moment.’ She cried, rushing out of the library and into the long cold hallways upstairs.

--

A moment.

There had been a lot of moments needed in this peculiar household. Mostly by the Master. No matter how often he tried to settle down for dinner or a sociable reading session in the library - at some moment or other he felt that horrid nervousness wash over him again. At first he thought it was just hunger. Insatiable hunger. But after endless hunts it became clear it was not that. At least..he wasn’t hungry for blood. He was hungry for..hmm..dare he say it..a..a heart?

But as the Master had ventured far and wide to calm the clicking of his nervous teeth, he had too noticed something else. Something new. The wounded deer had been just the beginning. Now there were more messy kills - most animals only half-dead when he got to them. There sure must be a young predator on the loose. Peculiarly strong, fine clawed..and leaving little to no tracks. The Master couldn’t help but feel the cold chill on his skin whenever he returned to the castle; something was brooding in these forests. And it forbade little good.

--

In the past week or so, her foot now healed, Belle had wandered around a bit. But it was only now that she realised how truly large the building was. Even after minutes of walking, she seemed to not have reached the furthest wing, the cold licking at her bare skin as she sniffled back the last of her tears. Throughout the length of the hallway walls there were large tapestries and portraits, telling great tales of the families that once lived here. Stately portraits, hunting scenes and depictions of the build of the castle. With amazement Belle took them all in, large brown eyes also noticing that a few paintings were missing, the lighter shade on the wall leaving a lasting mark of what had once been.

History laced the dusty air here, and it took away what last tears still stuck to her eyelashes. Curiosity, as usual, got the better of Belle. Especially now she heard some sounds coming from the end of the stately hallway.

Was someone there?

With silent feet she moved closer, finding a door ajar, light slipping through the crack. Inside she noticed signs of life; clothes strewn about, a bed unmade. It piqued her curiosity even more when she recognised the clothes. The Master’s.

*CREEEEEEeeekk* The door moved.

OH merde! Shit shit shit!

The Master had apparently heard her - of course he had - his head now peeking around the corner of the door. Clearly he was a little baffled to see her here, so far away from the library or her room.

‘Belle.’

‘M-milord.’ Belle quickly curtsied, red eyes casting down at the floor.

‘Are you well?’ The door was opened further, his hand reaching out to thumb away a stray tear on her cheek.

A most endearing gesture.  

Belle opened her lips to speak, but as soon as her eyes looked back up into his she lost all strings of thought. ‘I eh..’ Looking away her gaze once again fell upon the clothes that were strewn about. Quite messy a living space for someone seemingly well-put together. Never had she seen the Master in anything less but gentlemanly attire. Even now, in the privacy of his room.

‘I should go.’ She breathed, turning on her heel but finding her movement halted as his hand curled around her upper arm. ‘No please. I just didn’t expect..’ He licked his lips. ‘..a visitor. Please Belle.’ He gestured her to step inside, floorboards creaking beneath their feet. The room was cold in temperature, but warm in atmosphere. Heavy deep red drapes hung around the four poster bed and the walls were completely covered with paintings; a few portraits, but mostly landscapes or mythical depictions. And books, so many books! Stacked up nearly to hip height, their covers were showing clear signs of the many times they had been read, old leather cracked and pages curled.

‘Do come in.’ The Master slightly bent his head, stepping back to make way for Belle.

‘So..’ Belle nodded quietly, a watery smile appearing on her lips. ‘The Monster’s lair.’

‘Aye.’ He grinned.

The tension was near tangible as Belle carefully stepped over a few books, eyes taking in the great many things that were here to be seen. It was then she noticed a strangely familiar portrait. Familiar not in the straight sense of the word. In fact she trusted she had never seen it before. No. It looked familiar as in..it looked like her. With widening eyes Belle blinked at the exact representation of..her. Belle.

‘Did you paint that?’ Belle hiccupped.

The Master sighed and stepped in besides her, fingers lacing behind his back. ‘No.’

Belle felt a strange eeriness travel up her shivering spine. ‘No? Then..who..’ She swallowed harshly. ‘..what is that?’

The Master’s face contorted with pain as he turned away, eyes however remaining locked on the painting. ‘Tis my late wife.’

Of..course it was. Darn! How did Belle always get herself into such trouble?!

Belle wasn’t sure what to do next. Run? Scream? Cry out in terror? She knew that nobody would come. Nobody would care. She was here, all alone in the Monster’s Lair. And, from the looks of it...this wasn’t the end of the surprises that she’d find in these castle halls. His wife had looked like her? What’s next..? Did he think she WAS his wife, maybe? Is that why he was so strangely obsessed with her?

Then again. She was just as obsessed with him, right? For nights on end she had now watched as he fled the castle to go out, his dark silhouette returning only hours later, panting, lips tainted with fresh blood. The sight had both terrified and intrigued her. The Master intrigued her. To an almost unhealthy extent. Was she becoming a monster now, too?

‘I see.’ She whispered, eyes finding the Master’s stark blue ones as he looked over his shoulder. She could feel heat creep up her cheeks. Oh, why did she feel this way?!

‘I should have told you.’ He sighed, looking back at the painting, the portrayed woman wearing a fine red gown, dark brown hair mostly hidden beneath an early century headdress. Nothing Belle would ever wear, but she had to admit the woman looked dreamily beautiful.

And like her.

Belle licked her nervous lips, her chest suddenly unbearably tight in the restraints of her corset. ‘Is ..is that why I’m here? I mean. Nobody has been here for centuries and now-now I’m..I…’ Her eyes started to tear up with fright. But not for him. No. It was in fact more of a quiet hatred towards herself. SHE was the one who ventured into HIS domains. SHE had called this upon herself.

‘Tis part of the curse.’ The Master said benevolently.

‘So..then I am cursed as well.’ Belle sniffled, gladly accepting the kerchief the Master handed to her, his large frame now fully turning back towards her, eyes gentle. ‘In a way.’

Lingering their eyes met, two souls captured in a dance they didn’t know. But though the steps were unknown, their hearts were more than willing to learn. Why were they feeling this way? They had barely talked to one another except on the few occasions that the Master had ventured into the library or Belle’s room. And despite Belle’s best efforts, he would flee every single time. As if he was afraid of her. Hurt by her presence.

Was it because she looked like…?

Belle took a shaky breath, eyes studying every little detail of the portrait as it looked back at her. Calm. Serene. Though also slightly melancholic. ‘Was she cursed as well?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Belle huffed. ‘Then why does she look exactly..like me?’

The Master grimaced, his hand gesturing towards a divan. ‘I think you may wish to sit down. A-are you cold? Shall I..’ He bit his lip as he noticed the true mess he had made of his room; clothes strewn everywhere. What an impression he was giving her! His father would have scolded… No. Do not think so. Father is dead. And it’s time to own up to your responsibilities!

With large steps he strode to his wardrobe, its door magically flying open as he clicked his tongue. ‘A..robe, perhaps?’ He looked back at Belle as she sat down on the worn bench, fabric matching the heavy velvet drapes. ‘Eh..ye-yes please. Thank you.’

And so, now warmly wrapped in a heavy robe of luxurious brocades - worthy a land owner of great riches -, Belle learned the history of not only the Master’s wife, but also hers. The Master spoke of the start of the curse, which probably came with the death of his wife. Or, perhaps it had been the Fay witch Morgana, he couldn’t be sure. But either way; the tale was greater than any book Belle had ever read.

Fairy witches, rich lords, poor women, curses and deceit. Forbidden love or no love at all - claimed either way. With surprising richness in his words, the Master spoke, his countenance relaxed as he retrieved details of times long past. He was a good storyteller. Quite surprisingly so, especially after the long nights where he had barely spoken a word. Belle’s eyes did not once venture away from the man as he paced up and down the room, enacting the moments as they had happened.

He was truly in his element.

With gestures at a few of the portraits, he spoke of the curious way the women in her family would always have girls. Procreating yet another generation of young women to carry the curse on and on. And on..and on. From the Master’s sister in law begetting twins, to her mother...giving birth to her. And strange as it was, all women in her family somehow carried the same traits. Dark-haired and bright, they captured the hearts of a Le Comte more than a few times. And quite a few times they had refused a Le Comte’s advances. And even more than a few times a Le Comte took what he wanted anyways, thereby carrying on the curse - him turning into a vampire and the woman not dying long after.

‘But I have no sister. Or nieces..I think.’ Belle added thoughtfully when the Master got to the tale of the here and now.

‘That we don’t know, Belle. A few women have sent off their daughters, in hope to break away from this curse. Not all successfully, I’m afraid. But still. I fear it does not end here.’

‘But you do want it to end?’

‘I am the one who started it, Belle. I am not one to want anything more than for this to stop. I have caused..’ He looked back at his late wife’s portrait. ‘..great agony. I carry the blame.’

‘No..no..do not say so milord. Is it not that a great many men after you have chosen the exact same faith?’ The Master looked back, eyes thoughtful as Belle stood from the bench. ‘They have. But perhaps..that is the curse too. Poisoning their minds.’

‘Where are those that turned to vampires like you?’

Good question.

‘Dead. For as far as I know, they are all dead. They were too eager, too contemptful. You see, Belle, we can be killed like any man. Especially when the daylight is strong and our strengths wane.’

‘Have they ever tried to kill you?’

The Master lowered his head, a melancholic smile brushing over his lips. It was a silent “yes” to a question he knew she’d ask at some point or other. ‘Did they hurt you?’

‘Belle.’ The Master brushed a hand up over her sleeved arm, eyes meeting hers. He didn’t wish to speak any further on the matter, that much was clear. Belle licked her lips. And the Master brushed his hand further down her arm, capturing her hand before pressing a fanged kiss on her soft skin. Even through his lips she could feel his vampiric canines.

Oh he sure was fascinating as ever.

‘What happens if you bite?’ He stretched back up to full height. ‘Hmm..Either I’d kill you, or..’ He frowned, ‘..you’d become like me. I think.’

‘Unless I love you first.’ Belle said with certainty in her gentle voice, slightly unsettling the Master before her, his hand clenching her fingers more tightly. And Belle? She squeezed back.

‘That is why you were cursed, right?’ The Master remained quiet. ‘For love.’ Belle quirked her head to the side, searching his gaze. He seemed pained, unsure. Scared even.

‘Would you love me?’ He asked, his voice far less honey-rich now uncertainty cracked through its vibration. The Master suddenly seemed so small, fragile, agonized. But Belle didn’t know about the turmoil in his head; first he had forced her to stay here, then her father died, it..no..it could never be. He was still evil! He.. He should have never asked -

‘I could.’

---

How could two words change things? It was a question that kept the Master up through the late nights and long days. Knowing now that he craved not food, but something else. Love? Maybe. Either way, he remained within the castle walls. And with even more fervour he tried to get into the good graces of Belle. A daily routine was set where the Master would join Belle for tea, luncheon, supper and on occasion a moment of dialogue or other diversions in the library. With his stocks well-filled he made sure she would only receive the best. The most fragrant tea, the most succulent meats and the most well-spiced vegetables and stews.

Only the best.

But not for himself. As the sleepless days prolonged, so did his face, his already pale skin becoming near opaque, blue veins thin beneath his skin. Belle had tried to not worry as she knew little of his condition, but as the days progressed, she knew something was amiss. Was he starving himself?

‘You must eat.’ She finally said, her resolute voice travelling over the dinner table where the Master sat with no meal or wine before him. He huffed and waved it off, but Belle persevered, not accepting his grumbling “don’t be silly”. And, thankfully, the Master held a soft spot for the maiden, her voice of reason soon echoing in his skull until he couldn’t help but agree.

He needed to feed again.

As dinner finished and Belle’s plates and cups hopped off the table with elegant leaps - quite magical indeed -, she noticed the shimmer in the Master’s eyes.

He was going to flee again. She knew him by now.

And just as expected, he got up quickly, feet moving towards the door, though not making it far. Belle had grasped onto his arm, fingers locking around his fleshy forearm as he tried to tug himself free.

‘No.’

‘Have you not told me that I required nourishment?’ A beautiful frown crossed his dark eyebrows.  

‘I did.’ Belle licked her lips, still glistening from her delicious meal. ‘Take me with you... I want to see.’

The Master gruntled a low disapproval; had the maiden gone mad?! But Belle was headstrong, and her curiosity always won. And so, after a few long moments of Belle holding onto his wrist and the Master gazing coldly back at her, he caved. He was too easy on her, wasn’t he? And in this quick turn of events, he forgot for just a moment what challenges this little adventure would bring.

And what deliciously hard challenges they would be.

--

Chap 11 >

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly​ @elinesama​

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @wednesdaybraids @othersideofforty @starstruckkittyangel​ @strangerliaa​ @omgkatinka​  

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message!

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 10

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online. Day 271: Work was dominated by Qfiniti again, including a meeting with Jon and staff from the States, where I found my self taking control to get the next steps in process (and then, Dave Stewart, the SCCM engineer fucked off and put an OOO message on Teams telling me he’s off until Tuesday (it’s Thursday)...and I am off on Monday!) But, I have to say this project does float my boat. Got a text message and then a call from PCH for another laser eye appt this coming Monday at 12.30pm. I mentioned to the lady that phoned that I will have to square it with work (I won’t, but she doesn’t know that) as I can’t afford to lose my job - it just seems the hospital, while under pressue with the admin and the clinic availability - I get it! - just aren’t seeing the issues for the patients. Plus, Peterborough has been declared a Tier 3 from Sunday under the new lockdown scheme, the highest tier. Great...I really want to travel to a highly infected area! managed to find an online booze shop that does Gordon’s and Famous Grouse and will deliver beforee Chrimbo, so I’ve placed the order for dad and Rita’s gift. I spoke with Dad today, he hasn’t heard about his vaccination yet which is a surprise (he’s in the first draft being over 80)

Day 272: Typing on day 273. Work was that manic shit at the end of the dya when I’ve got time off. I am only off on Moday but still had to tie up loose ends, complictaed further by Jon being off next week and Sueanne off this week and the Qfiniti project! In the evening I only mamaged three beers. I ate too much. Plus my sugars were all over the place and way too high! I ordered a torch a couple of days ago (£17), it arrived today. It takes rechargeable batteries or 3 AAAs. Apparently, to get the best performance (i.e. brightness) you need the rechargeable batteries in it, so i charged ‘em. Fucking hell, I’m glad I did - it’s brighter than the sun. It opens up my late walks in winter, for sure.

Day 273: While it was a very late (but sober) night yesterday (gone 4am before lights out) I was up before midday. Usual walking etc. plus gave the bathroom a clean (albeit with wipes, but I did mop the floor - and used the water to also mop the kitchen). Now I am about to stick a pizza in the oven, plus wedges (to have with microwaveable chip shop curry sauce) and watch This Is 40 which is coincidentally on telly tonight - the coincidence being clips of it are on TikTok a lot right now. I am on my second beer and am going to have a smoke right now as well. Lastly for this entry, I have been using my AudioPro speaker today, it pisses me off it’s not WiFi capable but, thru Bt, it does sound fucking good - revisiting James works very well to demonstrate the speaker’s prowess.

Day 274: I have another Paypal a/c. I have been getting emails to my standard gmail account from Paypal saying they are going to charge me £9 for an inactive account which I have been largely ignoring since my paypal a/c has a specific email address. Anyway, I tried to log in, after a password reset and, hey presto, I do have another one, with £35 in it, having just been fleeced of £9 for the aforementioned inactivity, fuckers. It’s registered with the old Market Place address and phone. When I try to transfer the £35 to my card, it wants to confim it’s me by calling the phone, which I can’t amend. Oh, and you can’t contact Paypal direct. Fuck knows what to do! Other than that, usual Sunday, a tad more relaxed since I have tomorrow off, but not that much now I have an eye appointment in Tier 4 Peterborough (it’s been up’d from tier 3)! Up at 1.30 pm (I watched This is 40 and The Guvners last night with lots of beer), feeling worse for wear but, stair climb and a 6 miler acheived!

Day 275: I was at the hospital for 3 hours. The laser clinic didn’t start until 1.30pm so, why my appointment was at 12.20, not even the consultant could understand. 15 minutes of lasering - horrible but I am used to it. It took so long it pretty much fucked my day off up completely. I got a Christmas card from Karen, in the actual post, so, a mail shot. It’s depressing.

Day 276: Back to work and it’s definitely in wind down mode. I’ve decided to compile a list of things I have done this year. It will be on the postive side, such as all the steps I’ve walked and getting an article published about my photography, but it will also include randon facts like getting bitten by a dig twice and not having a haircut. I’ll get it done so I can post in at new year, hopefully be a little inspiring, a little silly and a lot of showing off!

Day 277: Work, again, was quiet. It’s fucking pissing down now, as I type at 21:50, and has been all day. It’s causing havoc and there’s flooding everywhere. I could walk down St. Peter’s Road tonight ‘cos of it (had to go up New Road, Springfield Road, down Latham Road). Soaked a lunhtime and tonight! With a new variant of Coronavirus, France stopped frieght crossing the border. That’s now been resolved but tyeh back log has/is affecting certain food stocks in the shops, of which, fresh veg might affect me for Christams dinner (I plan to do a chicken breast with stuffing, pigs in blankets, yorkshire pud and shed loads of veg. I’ll nip to Co-Op tomorrow morning and see what’s vaialble. It’s a half day at work ‘cos of Christmas Eve, so I can nip out somewhere in the car if need be, as ong as the flooding has subsided. Or I could just get shitfaced and have burgers and pizza.

Day 278: Christmas Eve. Sueanne let me finish at 11.00am so, very shortly thereafter, off for a walk I went; it turned out to be a stop/start affair - flooding as the Nene had burst its banks, ended up doing more of a circuit round town. Bumped into Andy Smith (and his son) and, after that, Ash and Denise. Ended up doing just under 11.5km in 2 and a half hours.Knackered! As I type, I have a chilli on the stove, beer on the go, all the veg and chicken breast bought with no shortages, as feared, for tomorrow’s lunch and looking forward to eating. getting drunk, smoking, listening to music, watching telly....all over the next two/three days.

Day 279: I don’t even remember going to bed last night. As a direct result I got out of bed at 2.30pm. I couldn’t even be bothered with Christmas dinner, let alone anything else like exercise. I’m just about to have chilli for dinner (it’s 8.10pm). Watch some telly then try an go to sleep before midnight. No booze! I did talk to dad earlier. Day 280: Typing on day 281. A better, more productive day. Up @11.00am exercise and walk as usual, although the walk was a different route due to flooding. In the evening I could hear ‘storm Bella’ raging, so windy! I cooked a christmas dinner of sorts, chicken breast with Thyme, all the veg, roasted spuds and parsnip, stuffing (a first for me, albeit co-op stuffing mix), Yorkshie and pigs in blankets. It was smashing! A few beers and The Hitman’s Bodyguard, alays a fun watch. A better day, as I say, but I am feeling particular deflated this Christmas. Day 281: Typing on day 282. I realised, about mid afternoon, that Monday (tomorrow) is a bank holiday so no work. It was a great realisation but, also, worrying that it dawned on my like I’m an old person! Nevertheless, a nice long walk - bumped into Baz & Kate and had a nice long chat, then El & Camila, Aaron and Eva for another, shorter chat. I also saw Denise & Ash along the way. Fog video called later in the evening for a chat too (he told me how he fell asleep at the dinner table, fuck he makes me laugh - unwittingly - when I need it most!) A regular social fest! A repeat of last night’s dinner and a few beers - it was a good day albeit I am in a proper low ebb.

Day 282: Up at midday after a 4am-er. A very long walk (1.75 hours) and a hodge podge dinner (remaining chilli, roasted spuds and peppers, steamed cauliflower and runner beans, grated cheese) - it’s nearly ready, I’ll type the review tomorrow. I realise that this is the first time in 21 Christmases that I have at least talked to K. Is that connected to my mood slump? I reckon so. So, as that fact dawned on me, I then considered, should it be the case next Christmas, it will not be the first in along time and, as such, more manageable....fuck knows how I manage to accentuate any little positive but, thank goodness I do. Day 283: Work was a sedate affair today, fuck all to do really. Sueanne is now follwing me on Insta...I shall invetsigate on how to exclude posts to individuals, methinks. Tea, last night, was fucking lovely. More of the same tonight-ish - currently I am roasting spuds, peppers, garlic, chillies, tomatoes - it’ll all go with left over pigs-in-blankets (5) and a burger. I’ll have bisto beef with mustard on it. I can’t wait! Day 284: Typing on day 285. That meal was fucking lush! Checked on the car todfay and it would not start. Something is draining the battery so I will have to give it a run every day until I can get Julian to sort it. So, I WhatsApp’d Karen to borrow the portable starter. She dropped it off for me. We had the briefest of chats at the doorstep, first time we’ve spoken in weeks. She mentioned my hair! Day 285: NYE. I have just got back from walking to Cottersock and back. I would not have been able to do so without my new torch! I finished and published my double letter quiz on FB, including to the Virtual Pub group and the Oundle Chatter. It’s had some good feedback, I’m rather proud of it. I am going to make chicken casserole now (with dumplings - a first for me, I even bought some flour), have some beers and get a bit stoned. Before that, I am going to finish off my list of things I’ve done this year, including steps wlaked and hours listening on Spotify. I am quite proud of that list too.

Day 286: I fucked the dumplings up, added too much water, so that didn’t happen but the chicken casserole was good, just about to finish it for tea tonight. I also had pizza last night and went to bed at 5am. I have had a lot of good feedback on my list of 2020 achievements. I proud of it. K sent a happy new WhatsApp last night, around 00.30.

Day 287: No booze last night, so I was up before the alarm today (about 10.00am) Two walks, one on my own, another with Fog with a couple of beers. I fucking loved it! Watching datrts (World champs semi finals - been texting Dan while the first one has been on). Going to watch The Aviator later...I’ve not seen it before which surprises me. Why it surprises me I do not know, since I know I haven’t seen it. How the fuck can I be surprised by a fact I’m completely aware of? Day 288: I didn’t watch The Aviator ‘cos Logan Luck was on at 11:55pm on ITV4. Great fildm...I can’t believe that I very nearly paid for it (rent from Sky or Amazon). A late one last night and quite pissed. Thinking about it, having afew beers with Fog in the afternoon made it quite a long sesh for me! Up at just gone midday today, nice long walk (Cotterstock) which was mde long by a painful right ankle - I must have turned or twiested slightly sometime. Still, it survived. Back to work tomorrow - Chrimbo and New Year all done and dusted for the 55th time in my life!

Day 289: First day back at work of 2021. Boris announces another full lockdown in England (there’s a new strain of Covid19 which is seeing huge numbers of infections every day, over 50,000 per day).

Day 290: Something is up with my right foot, the little toe pad. It’s bloody sore. If it gets any worse it’ll affect my walking and exercise. I phoned Anne Bennison to talk about it, she just wants me to go and see her which i donlt want to do if poss, pandemic and all that.

Day 291: Wearing my sandals instead of the M&S slippers and my foot/toepad is already feeling bteer. However, I did inspect my Merrell boots, just in case, and the sole on te right is really worn down, in just three months. I have sent a WhatsApp to CotswoldOutdoors, where I got them from....let’s see what they say! It’s all kicking off i  the US - pro Trump protestors have storm the Capitol Building, where congrees was being held. Only in ‘Merica.

Day 292: Busy at work with rolling out Qfiniti - all that project work was pretty much for fuck all since the SCCM package has to hand held. It’s feckin’ freezing today, below freezing, slippy af on my walks. I have been shopping tonight, £106 in Corby Tesco. That does include 8 cans of sapporo.

Day 293: The fracas at Capitol Hill on Wednesday left 5 dead, it looks like Trump will be impeached. He’s already said he’ll not attend Biden’s inauguration. In a fucking world gone mad, it’s another level of madness. It’s really cold -3℃ tonight, more of the same tomorrow. Makes for brisk walks. I’ve just had chicken balti pie and chips for tea. It was so nice that I burnt the roof of my fucking gob. I’m on the Sapporo and about to have a smoke then watch Jack Reacher. I’ve (kinda) earnt after the first 5 day week for a while.

Day 294: Well, last night saw another late one...5am by the time I :went to sleep. Up at 2pm today with no instention of any exercise or walking or housework or fuck all, really. But, I did my exercises and a 9 mile walk. While I walked I came across Banners, quick 15 min chat and listed to Stage by David Bowie. He’s all over the radio right now as it’s his death’s anniversary tomorrow and his birthday yesterday. It’s a fucking good live album. A few beers tonight, eating trash, watching FA Cup highlights then End of Watch later.  Posh played today (first time in a while due to Covid infections) drew away to (shitty) Lincoln 1-1. Good point as Posh were down to ten men after 67 mins for a second yellow for handball in the area. Lincoln missed the pen. Fucking funny. Chorley, the non leaguers who knocked Posh out in round 2 of the FA Cup, beat Derby in round 3 today (albeit derby fielded an academy side of 11 first timers due to Covid ) - a great day for them!

Day 295: Up at 2pm swearing blind I’d not walk or exercise (again!) but, of course I did. I’ve done over 25 miles this w/e! End of Watch was brilliant last night. Well worth a rewatch, so emotional. I am making butter chicken as I type. I’ve added extra onion, garlic and, of course, chillies. It’s the spiciest butter chicken I have ever tasted! 

Day 296: One of those frustrating days at work when no problem of request I try to resolve goes without a hitch. After a 7km walk in the evening, took the car for a spin and cleaned the bathroom. Fucking knackered. It’s 11:30pm and I’m in bed typing this on the iPad! despite getting up so late, I feel knackered. 11pm bedtime for me, I reckon.

Day 297: Fucking busy at work, the States rolled out a new Okta trust policy and it caused mayhem. Meant my evening walk didn’t start ‘til gone 6pm. When I got back, clened the hall and stairs, made chilli (which I am about to have for tea (gone 10.15pm!) and showered. I’m, again, fucking knackered! Posh played Portsmouth in the EFL Trophy 3rd round at home. Won 5-1. Nice.

Day 298: Had an electrician rouind for the EICR cetrt. He was here until 2pm and it was a pain in the arse, having to work upstairs plus, with having to cut the electricity, all the smart devices lost their settings. And it was freezing up there.

Day 299: Work was impossibly infuriating. Not one pc remote session went to plan! It was pissing down a lunchtime during my walk but, I have to say, the cheap TargetDry coat copes fine in heavy rain for short periods. Everywhere is flooding again even though the rain turned to sleet. By my evening walk, it was dry but bloody cold. Then, when I got in I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor and the bathroom’s as well. I fucking done in! Chatted to dad today - same as ever!

Day 300: What a fucking work at week! I am so glad it’s Friday. To celebrate, I ordered new walking boots: Scarpas £121!

[frangipanidownunder]

Fox Mulder’s Guide to Building a Pool: part 1

A/N This is in answer to an anon prompt: Mulder builds a pool in the yard. It ran away from me so I’ll post it in two parts. 

This is set post IWTB and assumes Season 10 didn’t happen. Because it shouldn’t have, am I right? Angsty to start with.

Summer He started one night, when the moon hung low and the stars were pegged out haphazardly in the midnight sky. His mind and his heart hadn’t stopped racing for hours, as though he were filled with cosmic energy. Outside, in flannel and old jeans, scuffed and muddied boots, he picked up the old shovel propped against the side of the rickety shed and dug until his fingers froze around the splintered handle, until the blisters on his palms burst, until the disquiet in his gut diffused. 

It was supposed to be a vegetable patch but by the time the dawn broke through, he realised it was in the wrong spot – shaded by the house and in the area of the land where the ground was rubbly and dry. The fertile patch was on the other side of the property, where the trees shed their leaves and mulched the earth naturally.

If there was anything Mulder was known for, it was his tenacity. Scully once told him he’d use a backhoe to dig for the truth. Well now he’d dug a ditch with a shovel and he was going to make something of it. As he massaged the pain from each knuckle he surveyed his night’s work. The sun’s rays hit the turned earth like laser beams, and he had an epiphany. A swimming pool. He was building a swimming pool. A white whale, the truth or a swimming pool. What did it matter as long as it was something he believed in? And just for a moment, in that warm spotlight, the dried out flower of hope bloomed in his chest.

The summer was long, dry and hot. So hot the tarmac melted on the roads, his tomato plants frizzled to brown and he lost his appetite for everything bar an ice-cold beer on the verandah after a day of digging. His routine was solid, despite the meteorological obstructions. He rose early, napped during the day, and worked through mosquito-filled twilights. In his downtime, he googled construction methods, materials, liners, water collection, filtration. On most days, he imagined himself ploughing through the water on warm evenings and chilly mornings, muscles burning, lungs protesting, body thrumming. On good days, he imagined Scully sitting under a shade umbrella sipping lemonade and reluctantly agreeing to take a dip with him, her lithe body pressed against his as they waltzed through the water together. On really good days, he imagined William paddling about in water wings, and squealing as daddy jumped in too close and made a big splish-splosh.

Scully arrived one afternoon, late. She hadn’t visited in a while, he hadn’t made his customary Sunday night call for…he couldn’t actually remember and when he saw the thunderous look on her face, he realised he hadn’t charged his phone for days.

“Didn’t you check your messages, Mulder? I lost count of how many I left. Your machine probably reached its limit.”

Rubbing the back of his neck with a towel, he looked over at the flashing red light and a pang of guilt twinged under his ribs. “I’ve been busy, Scully.” He thought she’d be pleased. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? To get him out of his office and back into the real world. Whatever that meant. They’d both seen the real world with its edges peeled back and its slimy, slithering insides exposed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to prod that beast anymore. She’d already turned away from that darkness and found her shining light under the fluorescent gaze of God in Our Lady of Sorrows. 

She looked him up and down with doctor’s eyes. The cold blue gaze causing a shiver to creep down his spine and he had to look away. Her ability to see right through him, past his calloused skin and into the sinewy mass of his body always unsteadied him. She was appraising his physical health and his mental wellbeing. He straightened his shoulders, brushed a clump of mud from his sleeve and offered her a drink.

“Chilled water will be fine,” she said. “I’m driving.”

Well, he knew that. How else would she get here? But more importantly, where else did she have to be. She was dressed sharply, not for the hospital. Something about the lower neckline and the softer palette made his brain wander places he didn’t want to go.

“I’m sorry if I’ve put you out,” he said, emptying ice into the glass and wondering where he put that lemon.

“It’s no bother, Mulder, to come here. You should know that. It’s just that I get…”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, and not so long ago he would have laid a hand over her shoulder or collected her hand in his. Instead, he looked at her and smiled, trying to soften that cool scrutiny. “I’m doing okay.” He didn’t add despite you leaving.

She looked down at her shoes – shiny beige courts with a high heel. He could see her reflection in them. The mouth closing in relief, or maybe irritation. She chuffed. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a big boy, Mulder…”

Palms up in surrender, he shook his head, cracked open a soda. 

“Mulder, you shouldn’t drink…”

“I know about the dangers of too much sugar, Scully, I’m a big boy.”

He showed her his work. She trod carefully over the dry earth, held her cross as she surveyed. He had a sudden longing to see her in a white vest dampened with sweat, cuffed denim shorts, heavy work boots, digging alongside him. 

“And this is going to be a pool?”

“Can’t you see it? Long lazy evenings dipping our toes, sipping gin cocktails as we swat away bugs, brisk morning swims to shuck off those pains au chocolat?” He saw her then, zinc strips over her cheeks and shoulders, straw hat pulled over a lazy ponytail, sunglasses perched on her nose, lowering herself in.

“Mulder, I don’t…”

His chest burnt, like his lungs had crumpled in the storm of a wildfire. He took the handle of the shovel and chopped at the edge of the hole.

“It’s a nice spot,” she said, after a moment gazing out to the horizon. “It’ll be quite something.”

“When I finish,” he added.

Fall

Amber leaves danced on a shimmying breeze, some floating to the ground in theatrical zig-zags. On the other side of the house, the digging was complete. He’d hired an excavator in the end, his knees and back creaking for weeks to remind him of his advancing years and his inability to do everything alone. He’d hired a contractor to remove the dirt and ordered the steel bars for the frame. Scully came by more of

en, intrigued, as she put it, to see how the pool project was coming along. She called to say she was coming Sunday afternoon and would he mind if she stayed a bit longer? He spent all Friday in a mania of dusting and filing and wiping down surfaces. Nesting, they called it. He patted his belly and shook his head. He was becoming quite ridiculous; DIYing and getting giddy when his ex promised to drop by. 

In the cupboard next to the stove, he found a stack of old cookbooks, dogeared pages and horrific  images of antiquated dishes like jellied salads and ham and banana hollandaise that viewed more like one of Scully’s X-Files autopsies. Amongst them was a treasured find. Betty Crocker’s New Picture Cookbook – a book his mother had used religiously. Grease marks and flour crusted over the pages of cakes. He zipped out to the supermarket and picked up the ingredients he would need and set about baking. 

His cake was a simple vanilla sponge but he enjoyed the science of the task, the weights and measures, the timing, the temperature control – the very precision of it all. As he watched it rise, he recalled childhood birthdays, where his mother toiled away for hours icing, sculpting edges, piping, creating dreams. There were castles and race-cars and trains and poodles. Parties were ended with the ceremonial cutting and handing out of slices to guests. He had always felt special those days. But after Samantha’s abduction, she stopped the tradition. She bought shop-baked cakes, refused him parties, spent his birthday barely tolerating the day and Samantha’s sipping brandy. 

By the time Scully arrived, tea was steeping, the table was set with tea-cups and saucers, side plates, and the iced cake stood on an elegant glass platter that held it above the timber surface.

“What’s all this?” she asked, hanging her bag off the back of the chair. “Is the Queen coming over?”

He poured her tea. The colour of it in the white porcelain cup reminded him of her hair against the pillow slip of their bed. “I hope not. She only likes Black Forest Gateau and you didn’t leave any jars of maraschinos.” She laughed softly, just like she would laugh with him during cosy evenings on the couch, rolling her fingers over his bicep, planting sweet kisses along his jawline. Back when it was just them against the world. Not them against the world and then each other.

“The colour is like those Caribbean island beaches,” she said, dotting her finger into the icing on her slice. “Azure.”

Her tongue licked at the sweet blue paste and he wanted to say he chose it because it was like her eyes, that that was what he missed so hard, so deeply, he wanted to say that he was sorry. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her, this simple act of eating that had him enthralled. God, he loved having her over from him, setting her plate just right, pouring the exact amount of granola, spooning whatever yoghurt she was into over the cereal, slicing banana while reading the newspaper. He couldn’t say anything though. All the best words lumped in his throat, as though they were overbeaten and curdled.

Instead, he said, “When Samantha was six, mom made her this cake with blue jello on the top that was supposed to be a swimming pool. I don’t know, I just had this mad rush of nostalgia, finding all those cookbooks and remembering how good it used to be.” He looked up and she was staring at him. “Back then, back home.” 

“How’s it going?” she replied, changing the mood in three words. “The pool?”

It was windy again and leaves tumbled across the yard, collected in the gutter, in the drains, against the fences. 

“It’s protected from the wind on that side, so I won’t have to keep cleaning out the foliage. The pump should be in soon. Then I’ll organise for the concrete pour, before the weather really turns.”

Her hands were stuffed in her jacket pockets, and she’d hunched her shoulders against the chill. He should phone the concreters tomorrow. Get it done. The tip of her nose turned pink. 

“Let’s go back inside,” he said. 

“Why concrete, Mulder? Why not fibre glass or a vinyl liner?”

He shrugged as she walked past him and his eyes settled on her hair, falling down her back, unkempt from the wind. She smoothed it down, rubbed her hands together, sat back at her seat and took another slice of cake. 

“With a more solid foundation,” he said, “it should last longer.”

[accioxtina]

Birthday Confessions pt2. (Harry x reader)

Okay hi this is the second part sorry if it sucks :( still learning lol i proof read most of it but if there’s a mistake send me a message. I am still taking requests! Hope you like it

‘They know my secret, not that it really is one but as long as the two dafest boys in our group don’t know it then it still is one’ “of course we know y/n” said George “what did you think. you’d like the chosen one and we wouldn’t find out to tease you” said Fred ‘how do they always do that’ she stared at them “yeah I would have particular enjoyed that honestly” Fred laughed.

She continue to stare at them as they had this look that they were suddenly communicating without speaking, “look can we please go downstairs your mom sent me to come get you guys and sooner or later she’ll come up here looking for us” they looked at each other and nodded “we aren’t finished with this conversation though”

Leaving them behind she hurried down the stairs almost tripping on the last one. She sat down in front of Harry as half of them were already seated, Harry looked at her and smiled while she smiled back and sat down.

After a while of eating and everyone consecutively finishing; Molly asked Ginny to bring out the cake, it was a homemade chocolate cake with the words “Happy Birthday Harry’’ and a decorative quidditch broom enchanted to fly around the cake. Harry smiled down at it, it was nice to see it, everyone smiling after a wondering summer, they all felt it, a shift in their world and not a good one; it’s as though He Who Must Not Be Named is planning the inevitable but no one is saying anything. Whether it’s out of ignorance or fear. Y/n’s thought bubble was popped when she heard the last ‘birthday’ of the song being sung she looked at Harry blow out the candles and the quidditch broom fly out and make mini fireworks. Molly did always go above and beyond it’s was a great change of atmosphere just like when you walk through the front door of the Weasley home.

Gifts were unwrapped and the chosen boys birthday was coming to an end y/n made sure to stay away from Fred and George just in case they wanna give her another “interview.” Molly sat next to Ron as Harry opened the last few gifts and Ginny sat next to him while Hermione sat next to y/n. “At what time do you have to be home?” Hermione asked “Oh I think I might just leave after midnight mum never said a time” she nodded smiling as Harry unwrapped her gift it was a bunch of books and the spell she uses to fix his glasses written on parchment paper so he has it at hand. Molly looked towards y/n “and did you already give him something y/n” she nodded and said “yeah I got him a dream catcher” molly smiled and nodded she then got up and went to the kitchen to cut some cake for my family as it was almost midnight. The rest of the weasleys were up to their own bidding and conversations.

At a moment of vulnerability in between Hermione leaving her side Fred and George sat on both her sides “you should tell him you know” Fred said as he spoke in a low voice George nodded a long not looking at her “we know he likes you right back” he said y/n’s eyes widened and said “boys I love your jokes and pranks but I would appreciate you guys not trying to fool me into believing such a daft thing, I know he likes your sister he told me so.” She sighed her voice a little to low and sad George shook his head in disagreement “we aren’t lying or tricking you y/n/n” “yeah for real he speaks in his sleep and the walls are not thick so we heard him while planning a back to Hogwarts prank” continued Fred.

Y/n looked at both of them doubting her suggested intentions, and looked down to play with her hands. “Y/n when he told you that he liked dear old Ginny did he ever hesitate? Or looked away as though he was thinking it through” she sighed again “I don’t remember it was months ago” but she lied of course she remembered that moment it was the moment she realized her friendship with Harry would never move from that moment, they were just friends and nothing more but Fred was right she remembered him looking away and hesitating his answer, she didn’t want to think it through to much but her heart sped up at the idea that he may have been lying.

She got up and left the boys side standing next to where Harry was she took the risk with what the twins had told her she had gotten a little gutsy and decided she needed to know. “Harry can I speak to you” she slightly interrupted a conversation between him and Ginny, Harry didn't seem to care but Ginny once again shot daggers at her. y/n didn’t understand the childish jealousy from Ginny is what she wished she had been thinking but she did understand Ginny and to be honest she was about to be jealous and sad if Harry truly admits his feelings for Ginny are genuine.

Harry nodded and followed y/n outside it wasn’t really windy or chilly for that matter it was just a sweet windless cold on the last day of July. “What’s up? Did you need something?” Harry asked. Standing in front of her he noticed how she was short but he already knew that and he just noticed that while standing really close to one another her height made her adorable he noticed her cheeks were red and how her y/e/c eyes were a little brighter under the porch light Harry smiled at that; he could never deny his feelings for her unless it was to her face.

“I need to ask you something” y/n asked she was hesitant now, standing in front of him made her want to retract her question entirely and go home but she stayed and let him answer back “yeah what is it?” Her brain told her to retreat but before she could think it through she said “do you really have a crush on Ginny?” Harry sucked his breath and almost choking on it, pushing his glasses back up his nose he noticed how she was playing with her hand something she only ever did when she became drastically nervous.

To think of an answer took a while and he debated telling her the truth, Harry remembered Ron’s words ‘tell her before you lose her’ he let go of his breath and said “no. I never did I lied to you so you wouldn’t know that I liked you” y/n was ready to hear a ’yes’ but as she heard ‘no’ her hands dropped to the sides and the breath she unnoticeably held back came out she looked into Harry’s eyes and listened to how he reciprocated feelings. Not really knowing how to respond she just looked at him. Harry not knowing what to do he starts speaking again “it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way I would like for you to forget i said anyth-“ it was as though a switch flipped inside y/n and she kissed him as he felt her lips he kissed back his hands making their way towards her waist holding her feeling the warmth radiating she smiled against his lips and pulled back.

“I feel the same way.” He chuckled his cheeks, turning red “I would hope so, unless you go around kissing every person that starts to ramble” she laughed and swatted his shoulder “oh shut it” he pulled away from her and said “y/n I’m so glad you asked me again, now would you like to go on a date with me some time this week?” “Y/n’s cheeks felt red and hot but she nodded.

She grabbed his hand and walked back inside, walking past the twins she winked at them and walked towards the kitchen so she could leave for the night. Harry was first to notice how his hand fit perfectly in hers and how warm her hand was; he looked down to their hands and smiled. Y/n led them into the kitchen and stopped in front of the table Molly sitting talking with Hermione and Ginny stopped halfway and looked at their interlocked hands she smiled her bright smile and nodded “are you leaving now?” Y/n nodded and removed her hand from Harry missing the warmth she took the cake pieces for her family and hugged Hermione goodbye “you better owl me or write to me all about this when you get home” y/n giggled but agreed.

Waving bye to Ginny, her face fell she looked down at the table but looked up when y/n said bye and waved to her. Lastly y/n turned to Harry, not knowing whether to kiss him or hug him she decided to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. Y/n then said “owl me to set up that date Harry” he smiled and nodded, placing a hand on his face where she kissed him getting under the floo passageway she said her homes name appeared there, standing now back in her living room she headed for the kitchen to drop off the cake and run to her room. She laid in her bed remembering the nights events slowly she drifted off to sleep.

Tag list

@mazerunnerrose

[lindoig7]

Thursday-Saturday, 20-22 August

Thursday

It was a wild old night, with the wind rocking the caravan and rattling our awning all night.  It rained consistently almost all night and the rocking of the caravan and the pitter-pattering (and occasional hammering) on the roof made our warm comfy bed the very best and snuggliest place to be.  Even when the awning crashed and banged and woke us up, the rain soon invoked the Sandman and we went straight back to sleep again.

We were awake a little earlier than usual, but enjoyed a lazy half-hour or so snoozing before our cuppa and puzzles in bed.  Of course, by 7:30am, the Council workers were out in the rain, mowing the grass across the rampaging creek immediately behind the van.  The whole area is virtually under water so how they avoided getting bogged is a complete mystery to us.  The need to mow the area is just as mysterious because all they were doing was cutting the tops off the grass well away from the paths.  It wasn’t as if the grass was encroaching on the paths or hiding any varmints that might leap out to devour any of the early morning walkers.

We did some supermarket shopping after breakfast, mainly for a few extra things we need to make some tomato relish and peach chilli chutney.  We are getting low on our fancy home-made condiments so decided to make some more.  But as usual, walking past the fridges at Woolworths is a risk.  I spied a few likely-looking seafood bargains so now we need to find room for even more exotic delicacies!

We didn’t have much rain during the day, despite constant heavy black clouds but it was cold, bleak and windy all day and not at all nice outside.  As a consequence, we spent almost all day inside doing odd jobs, more cryptic crosswords, kenkens, sudokus and other pleasurable time-fillers before we fired up the stove and got back into cooking even more wonderful concoctions.

We made a wonderful pasta dish based on the vongoles and prawns we picked up as bargains in the morning – an elaboration on something we have done a couple of times before – vongoles, prawns, bacon, oil, garlic, parsley, smoked paprika, white wine, lemon, salt and pepper – man, what a feast and we never managed to eat it all so I suspect a seafood omelette is in the immediate offing. Even as bloated as we were, the potential for a meal from the leftovers left our mouths watering!

Friday

There was plenty more heavy rain overnight, and wild, wild winds, but we woke to a weak wintry sun and enjoyed a great hot breakfast.  (There seems to be a lot in my blog about food.  Maybe because we eat extraordinarily well and just want to keep experimenting.  We often (sometimes?) start with a recipe, but once the ‘start’ is dispensed with, the creative possibilities are endless and we try to make the most of any variations our imaginations evoke.)

We checked the weather over breakfast, expecting there to be rain everywhere as per the overnight forecast, but found that the Sale forecast looked surprisingly promising.  We had planned another day of cooking, but in light of the forecast, we abandoned (deferred) that and set sail for Sale.  Heather needed more yarn and some better scissors to we stopped at Spotlight on the way through Traralgon and stocked up there.

We wanted to explore the southern part of the Sale Common Wetland.  We had walked around the middle section a week or two ago, but wanted to explore other parts of this very large wetland.  Easier said than done!  We parked near the Swing Bridge (that isn’t like any swing bridge I have seen before – more like an opening or lift bridge) and set off on the soggiest of soggy tracks. We noted that cars – obviously high clearance 4WDs – had used the track, but had bottomed out and some had become bogged.  Multiple wheel-tracks ran in all directions in an attempt to avoid the worst of the deep ruts, but there is no way anything less than an amphibian would have gone through that day.  The track was even a challenge for walkers.  We had to pick our way through deep puddles and quagmires of mud, often abandoning the track for the waterlogged scrub to pass some of the worst sections.  We walked half a kilometre or so but it was becoming increasingly difficult so we returned to the car and set off for other access routes.  Sale was quite sunny, but still quite cool and very windy, but we returned to the walk we had done a week or two earlier and tried to get into the area from the north after our access from the south had been thwarted. We managed to get about 2.5 kilometres, partly along our previous route, before being confronted by water too deep to cross.  We had already traversed a few shallow puddles, but it was just not feasible to go any further without our water-wings!

My diabetes(???) had given me the shakes before we got back to the car so we ate our lunch there and recovered my sugar balance.  We still wanted to explore the northern area so went up to the much more populous and touristy lakes near the town. One of the lakes is Lake Guyatt and we had walked around that last time but the bigger Lake Guthridge was still to be conquered.  We needed to find a toilet and the signs said there was one 5 minutes away in the Botanic Gardens or 15 minutes away where we had just come from.  We opted for the Gardens – alas, NO TOILETS (of course!). Two kilometres later, we had almost circumnavigated the lake when we came upon the toilets advertised to be 15 minutes from our parking spot!  Have I ever mentioned the obvious attempts by all State and local authorities in Gippsland to confuse the public with fake signage?  I have got to the stage where I simply don’t believe any official signs anywhere in the area.

I had thought that it might be nice to circumnavigate the whole wetland area so we tried to do that, only to find that it was virtually impossible.  I reckon it would take a drive of about 250 Km to do it given that we would have had to drive all the way to the coast, then east to find another way north, then all the way back to Sale.  In our explorations, we found another huge contiguous part of the wetland on the other side of the road – presumably unprotected because it is not marked as such on the Council maps even though the main road is the only thing preventing the entire area being a single wetland.  There are at least 2 rivers and 3 bridges linking the water on both sides of the road so it is virtually impossible to separate the RAMSAR area from the apparently unprotected section.

We found an alternative route back to Rosedale, avoiding a trip back into Sale – and thence home in time for a shower before Happy Hour.  Topped up with fuel at Traralgon again on the way but we were still home again by about 5pm.

I had cooked a turmeric and fish meal on Tuesday/Wednesday – a little unusual given that the fish was marinated in the spices overnight, then only lightly cooked, but with additional veges and herbs added after the heat was removed just prior to serving.  Just add rice.  Very tasty and easy as anything to prepare.

Saturday

The Antarctic Blob is exerting its influence very strongly here today.  Lots of wind and rain overnight, some quite heavy, but consistent all night.  And today has been pretty wild too.  The rain had come and gone, but has been a deluge at times with heaps of hail – literally heaps, with it covering everything and piling up against anything blocking its passage.  It was banked up against the shrubbery outside the van for several hours before it finally melted – 6 degrees maximum here so it was very slow to melt.

It has felt really exciting at times in the van with so much wild weather outside and us safe and warm inside and enjoying the experience.  We cooked our tomato relish in the morning and our peach and chile chutney in the afternoon. We had to do a quick supermarket run to buy some extra spices early in the afternoon and I dropped Heather off and drove around the block a couple of times and picked her up at the door again. This was to avoid her getting too wet in the rain, but the hail absolutely pelted down while I was driving around the block – the racket inside the car was horrendous – exciting, but a little scary too.

We had a fairly unsatisfactory Zoom session in the afternoon – the bandwidth here is a real problem, but at least we spent half an hour or so in contact with some of the kids.

[lokimostly]

Rainy Days (Ch. 6/6)

James Conrad x Reader Word Count: 3,667 Warnings: none Fic Summary: When Captain James Conrad shows up unexpected at your army outpost in eastern Vietnam, both your lives turn upside down. And whether you want to or not, he’s not the kind of man you forget about.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

A/N: this is it! It’s been a long time coming. Thanks everyone for your patience - this chapter is extra long, but I figured it was better than splitting it in two. Enjoy!

Additional Note: There’s a sequel series! Go HERE to read “Home from War”

You woke up in Conrad’s arms.

The storm had died in the night, reduced to an ever-present wind that blew against the tarp of the tent. It would have been chilly, if not for the strong arms wrapped around your waist and the warm breath in the crook of your neck.

The Captain’s chest rose and fell evenly in the telltale sign of deep sleep. His skin was pleasantly warm against yours, and you sighed contentedly, not wanting to get up. But the sun was shining through the fabric of the tarp, and you had to get to Camp Carroll as soon as possible.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, nestling deeper into him and letting yourself enjoy the moment for a second more. You were just beginning to wonder when Conrad would wake when his breathing changed and he stirred, gripping you tighter. His hold around you loosened as his eyelids fluttered gently open, and he hummed deeply, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Am I dreaming?” He murmured, smiling against your skin.

“Not quite,” you whispered, leaning up on your elbows and turning to press your lips to his. This seemed to wake him, and the two of you laid there for more than a few minutes, speaking gentle words and pressing gentler kisses to each other’s lips and skin, adoring in a way that was different from the night prior, but just as sweet.

Conrad pulled away reluctantly, setting his forehead against yours and sighing. “We should be going.”

“We could stay a while longer,” you whined, knowing you shouldn’t protest, but currently uncaring of that fact. You smiled and raised an eyebrow suggestively, your expression mischievous and taunting.

Conrad chuckled and shook his head, capturing your lips in a kiss and teasing gently at your bottom lip with his teeth. You laughed in his mouth and it spurned him further. His hands roamed freely over your waist, and he flipped you over, pulling you beneath him. Conrad’s eyes glinted with a similar mischievous shine, and he pressed a hot kiss to the nape of your neck.

You weren’t going to be leaving for a while.

~

An hour (or two) later, you set out. The day proved to be windy and grey-skied, but the storm was behind you, and no rain came. You and Conrad began the journey in easy conversation, which turned into companionable silence, which then became uncomfortable quiet. The Captain seemed to grow more solemn with every step, like every inch towards the DMZ solidified your relationship as military personnel only, and not something more.

Even though we are something more, you thought, ducking under a vine and staring at his broad shoulders. Your eyes clouded over with memory from the night before. It stirred strong and unexpected emotions in the pit of your stomach, and suddenly you found yourself wanting to tell him you loved him.

Your heart did a somersault at the thought and you pushed it away as a silly idea. You’d only just caved in to him. And yet, the thought persisted.

You opened your mouth and inhaled, preparing to break the uncomfortable silence, but closed it and shook your head, feeling stupid. Why rush? There would be time to say it later.

A break in the treeline interrupted your thoughts. Sunlight streamed through the clouds, illuminating the terrain ahead of you: a wide, green field, a river downhill, and the tents that made up Camp Carroll. To your dismay, there were pillars of black smoke rising from the encampment, and lots of foot traffic: an indication of recent conflict.

��Come on, let’s hurry,” Conrad urged gently, obviously feeling the same anxiety.

The two of you jogged through the tall grass until finally your boots hit hard dirt, and you were inside the camp.

Everyone you passed was in a hurry, and not a single person looked in good shape. Torn uniforms, bloody bandages, makeshift slings… no wonder you had been relocated. They certainly needed you.

Conrad nudged you and pointed to the red cross indicating the Medic Tent, and you broke into a run, ducking under the tent flap. The sight that met your eyes wasn’t unexpected, but it surprised you nonetheless: cots upon cots of injured soldiers, medical tools strewn about and unorganized, and-- your eyes caught them working in the far corner of the room --only one medic. And from the look of the sling around their neck, they were injured themselves.

“I need to see General Abrams,” you said weakly.

Conrad, who had followed behind you, put his hand gently on your shoulder and led you out of the tent.

“I think it’s this way,” he said in a soft-spoken tone, his hand falling protectively to the small of your back as you walk.

You noticed his touch, glancing up at him: his face was stoic, bright eyes full of concern and wariness. Your heart welled up in your chest again and your brow furrowed as you felt the words rise up in your throat, unbidden and insistent.

“Conrad, I--” you began.

“--Here it is,” he said, leading you to the General’s tent. He dropped his hand from your back and held up the flap for you, tilting his head quizzically. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, shaking your head as your cheeks flushed. You ducked under the tent flap before he could pry further.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light inside the tent: facing away from you, the General stood discussing something in low tones with another officer. He caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye and stopped, turned, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

You saluted sharply-- Conrad did the same. “Sir. You requested a medic transfer-- I’m here, Sir. Y/N L/N.”

“Finally, some good news,” he growled, his dark eyes shifting from you to James. “And you are…?”

“Captain James Conrad. Her escort,” he replied quickly, saluting. “Sir.”

“You’re British,” the General observed flatly, clasping his hands together behind his back and narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, Sir.” Conrad paused, pressing his lips together, before explaining himself further. “I’m an SAS Officer specializing in reconnaissance, Sir.”

“We don’t have any need for that here,” General Abrams said shortly, and turned his back to the two of you. “You can stay until we find an assignment for you. After that, you’re not my problem.”

Conrad wasn’t staying. You felt your heart plummet and you opened your mouth to protest, but Conrad quickly shakes his head at you, speaking up instead. “Sir, if I may–”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, nurse L/N?” The General asked, interrupting him.

“Yes, sir,” you murmured, saluting once more before casting a long glance at Conrad. His green eyes met yours and they softened, trying to convey something unsaid, before you ducked your head and left the tent.

You felt like crying, or going back there to argue, or maybe both. Conrad, gone. He hadn’t even given you a chance to speak your mind! Was there really nothing he could do here, no way that he could be useful? He was a man of many talents, after all.

You scoffed aloud. The soldiers ahead of you noticed your scowl and quickly side-stepped to avoid your path, but you were too caught up in thought to notice.

There’s no way I could find out where he’s gone if they send him away, you thought to yourself, feeling more upset every minute. He’s British SAS. And even if I could… your thoughts trailed off as you ducked under the tent flap.

So many soldiers. More than a few were sitting side-by-side on cots, pressing dirty cloths to their wounds while the only nurse – whose arm was in a cast – bustled around at lightning speed.

You reluctantly let go of your thoughts about Conrad. For now, you had a job to do.

~

The hours flew by, and the sun set, and the stars spun above– and all of it passed you by. Your fingers worked tirelessly into the night: cleaning, wrapping, stitching. Bit by bit the overcrowded conditions of the medical tent dwindled. You sent the injured nurse to their tent early, and worked alone. It wasn’t any trouble, really– it just meant that you stayed awake deeper into the twilight, until the sounds of the camp had all but disappeared against the background of the jungle.

As the last soldier shuffled off with their cuts sterilized and wrapped, you checked your watch. 2:12 am.

“Good lord,” you muttered, reaching up to rub your face. Thank god there was no one else in need of help – you felt like you were about to drop.

“Excuse me.”

Or not, you thought quickly, looking up with tired eyes to see the person you’d been thinking about all night: his blue-green eyes tired, but sparkling, as he ducked under the tent flap and came to sit on the cot next to you.

“That’s where wounded soldiers sit,” you pointed out, smirking. “Not you.”

Conrad put his hand on his chest and gave you a hurt expression. “On the contrary,” he said, “I am severely wounded.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. My poor heart is out of sorts,” he joked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes flickered over your face. “Do you think you can fix it?”

You scoffed and shook your head, smiling. His lips were tantalizingly close, and before you could think of a response, you found yourself leaning forward. Conrad’s hand reached up to cup your face–

“Captain Conrad?”

The two of you split like lightning just as the General ducked underneath the tent flap, standing straight. You snapped to, your face flushed and nerves buzzing.

But if the General noticed, he made no comment on it. Instead, he turned to address Conrad, who saluted as well. “Sir.”

“I’ve finalized your pending request. You ship out first thing tomorrow.” He glanced between you two, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. You felt your heart leap into your throat.

The General inhaled. “As you were,” he said finally, exiting the tent.

Your stiff posture collapsed with relief and you fell against the cot, blowing a puff of air out of your mouth. Conrad, on the other hand, remained standing. He looks down at the floor, exhaling softly.

At the sight of him your own countenance fell and you swallowed, dreading what he had to say. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your eyebrows. “James?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. “They’re shipping me out in the morning,” he confessed, his voice low and unwavering, but you could feel its genuine sadness. “It’s only a few days. A supply run to another base, but the terrain is treacherous…” He trailed off and looked up at you, turning and stepping forward. His hands reached forward again, more hesitantly, to cup your face. He smiled when your face flushed at his touch.

“After this one, I’m done,” he added.

Your eyes flickered up to his face and you gave him a confused look. “What?”

Conrad chuckled. “I’m done. I’ll be decommissioned. And I’m coming back for you.” He stroked your thumb affectionately. “I promise.”

Your heart leapt, turning from tragedy to joy in an instant. “Oh, my god–” You stopped talking and pulled him down into a kiss, holding his face in your hands, never wanting to let go.

You felt him laugh in his chest and he pulled you closer, holding you tight against his chest. His touch was so warm, the smell of his shirt so intoxicating, the taste of his lips so sweet, that you didn’t know how you’d ever lived without it.

You pulled away from his lips to take a breath, setting your forehead against his chest and laughing. “How’s your heart feel?”

“All better,” he chuckled, brushing your hair back affectionately. His eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your hand. “Y/N–”

“--Stay,” you interrupted, looking up at him. “Please. Stay with me.”

He gave you a confused look, and then chuckled. “Did you think I was going to leave you?” He looked down and reached for both your hands, thumbing over them and inhaling deeply. “Y/N, I…” he trailed off, gathering his courage and trying again. “I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you kissed him before he could continue, like you’d never kissed him before. Like you’d never kiss him again.

“I love you, too.” 

~

The morning light seeped through the cracks of your tent, shining through the mist and painting stripes on your face. You stirred awake, rolling onto your side and inhaling deeply. You were in your bed – you could vaguely remember Conrad’s strong arms carrying you here – and you smiled, reaching up to rub your face.

There was something in your hand. Curious, you sat up in your bed and opened your fingers.

The lighter.

He left it with me, you thought to yourself, smiling and flipping it over to read the R.A.F. engraved letters on the side. You nodded in resolution and swung your legs off the bed, pocketing it in your jacket to keep it safe. I’ll give it to him when he gets back.

The days passed quickly. Almost a week went by and from dawn till dusk, you worked tirelessly. Strangely, the fact that Conrad was gone seemed to help you focus: it kept you motivated, looking forward to when he returned. In a short amount of time, you had the previously chaotic state of the med tent well-organized. General Abrams stopped by often to approve your work, and it made you buzz with energy when he mentioned the effect it had on camp morale.

Soldiers came in on occasion under the premise of needing a check-up to flirt, but their advances went completely unnoticed by you. Given your starry-eyed state, it was no surprise that they give up quickly.

The day came.

He didn’t come back.

You spent it feeling excited, then anxious, and then worried beyond relief. You contemplated going to the General and asking to go out and find him, but that would be out of line, and ridiculous besides.

That next morning, you sat in the medical tent alone with your thoughts, arranging one of your first aid kits while your mind raced. Missions pass their deadlines all the time, you reasoned to yourself. He’ll be back today.

The morning after that, your hands worked meticulously to wrap an injured leg while you murmured under your breath, “he’ll be back today. Any hour now.”

The morning after that, you had to stop thinking about it entirely. Your fingers shook while they stitched, and you found yourself having to take deep breaths in order to curb the anxiety that filled your lungs. The soldier sitting on the cot gave you an odd look before his eyes snapped up to the tent door and he saluted. “General.”

“At ease,” Abrams responded automatically, striding up to you and clearing his throat. “Nurse L/N.”

You started  in surprise, pricking yourself with the needle and stifling a gasp at the sudden sting. You turned and snapped to, dropping your hand and grabbing a cotton swab, holding it to your finger. “Sir?”

He handed you a manila-colored letter, and your heart dropped into your boots as you reached out to take it. “General…?”

He shook his head. “It’s all there. As you were.”

You watched him leave with a numbed expression. Had your heart stopped beating, or did it only feel like it?

With hesitant, trembling fingers, you unfolded the note and scanned over the lines.

IMMEDIATE TRANSFER :   L/N, Y/N, FIELD NURSE

NAHA AIR BASE, US-OCCUPIED JAPAN

BY ORDER OF GENERAL ABRAMS 28 AUG 1972

Immediately. No time to write a note. No time to tell Conrad.

“No….” You whispered, reading it over twice more before ducking out of the tent and chasing after the General, the wind whipping at your hair. The clouds overhead were yellow and stormy, blocking out the sun. “Sir!”

The General turned halfway, continuing his pace while you caught up to him. “Yes, nurse?”

“Physician,” You muttered, before swallowing and holding up the note. “Sir, this can’t be right. The Captain, Conrad, he was supposed to –”

“Yes, he’s passed his return date. What does that have to do with this?” He asked sharply. Your cheeks flushed, but you pressed on. “Sir, I had…  I need to … “ You trailed off, at a loss for words.

“What you need to do is get on that helicopter,” He pointed out, tapping on the note. “There’s a storm moving in, and your window is now.”

“But sir–”

“That’s a direct order!” He snapped, finally losing his patience. “Need I remind you the consequences of disobeying a superior officer?”

You blanched and pressed your lips together, stopping in the middle of the path as soldiers ran past. “No, sir,” you replied in a small voice, your eyes going blurry with tears that you quickly blinked away. You ducked your head down and stared at your dirt-caked boots.

General Abrams’ dark eyes flickered over your face, but his expression remained cold. “You have my condolences,” he said finally, squaring his broad shoulders and putting his hand stiffly on your arm.

His gesture of comfort was almost enough to break you, and you only nodded before heading back to your tent. The wind kicked up and burned cold against your face, stinging your eyes and drying them before you had a chance to cry.

You ran to your tent and collect your effects, stuffing the books and miscellaneous items into your duffel bag.

As you kneel down to pick up the straps, Conrad’s lighter dropped out of your pocket and hit your boot. 

You froze, staring at it for what felt like an eternity. Should I leave it here?

After a moment of hesitation, your fingers wrapped around it and you put it back in your pocket, slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder and heading out to the helipad. The wind had kicked up even more now, fighting against the helicopter blades. The co-pilot took your bag and helped you in, urging you to hurry. The sky was almost completely grey now, its voluminous yellow storm clouds crowding out any sign of blue.

The helicopter began to rise. You reached for something to hold onto, watching the camp shrink below you as you were lifted up and into the clouds. As the altitude rose, your heart fell, and you thumbed over the R.A.F. lighter in your hand.

“But he promised,” you whispered weakly, tears welling in your eyes again. This time, you didn’t bother wiping them away.

Below you, in a truck driving along the bumpy dirt path, Captain Conrad sat anxiously in the backseat of the caravan, looking up at the yellow storm clouds.

Every free moment over the past week, he’d been thinking of you. Yes, the mission had been drawn out longer than expected, but at least now he had new stories to tell. Hopefully you weren’t too exhausted by your medical work to hear them.

Even if you were, your tired listening expression was unbearably cute, he thought, smiling in anticipation of seeing your face. His fingers fidgeted with his navy pants as he waited for the truck to break into the camp and slow down enough for him to jump off.

As soon as the first tents appeared, he leapt from the back and broke into a run, dodging soldiers and muttering apologies when he checked shouldiers. Seeing you was the only thing in his mind, leaving no space for anything else. Telling you how sorry he was. Kissing your lips to make up for the lost days – god, your lips.

Conrad reached the medical tent and ducked under the flap, but was met with an empty room. He blinked in confusion, looking around, before exiting and heading down the road to your tent. You must be there, he reasoned, unworried. After all, where else could you be?

Empty.

His expression - and heart - fell as he observed the vacant tent. It looked disheveled, abandoned in a hurry. Worry rose in his throat and he forced it down, putting his tongue between his teeth and forcing his heartbeat to slow. You were around. You had to be.

Conrad ducked out of your tent and nearly collided with General Abrams, saluting quickly. “Sir!” he said, catching his attention.

The general raised his eyebrows, and then nodded quickly. “Oh, of course. Conrad. Your letters of decommission are in my office– you may come and get them when you’re ready.”

Conrad faltered slightly, frowning. “That’s -- very good, sir. Please, do you know where Nurse Y/N–”

“Captain, as a British SAS officer, I’m not at liberty to tell you,” he responded, answering Conrad’s question before he can finish asking it.

Conrad’s countenance fell and he opened his lips to reply, but nothing came. Had his heart stopped beating, or did it only feel like it?

For a moment he didn’t realize that the General had continued speaking. “... free to return to England. There are ships in Bangkok that will take you there.”

And then, he was alone.

Captain James Conrad stood in the middle of the road, soldiers passing him by. The wind whipped at his clothes, pulling them from him, as he stayed frozen in place and utterly hopeless. 

Where had you gone? 

His mind raced and his blue eyes darted around, looking for some sign of you, but there was nothing to be found. All he could feel were the heartstrings in his chest splitting, the unbidden tears in his eyes blurring his vision, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

He fell to his knees, and looked up to the sky, where the yellow clouds had turned dark, drowning out the sun.

It began to rain.

A/N: Thanks for reading! It’s my first completed series (throws confetti).I might write a sister-series to this story later -- let me know what you thought! Much love. <3

Additional Note: There’s a sequel series! Go HERE to read “Home from War”

Tag List: @duranie100theunionofthesnake​​ , @brendas94, @darkprincessloki92​​ , @fire-in-her-veinz​​ , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi​​ , @villainsaremorerelatable​​, @xletmetaste-yoursmilex, @marvelrose​​, @pan-da-sexual-oreo, @courtney-thevixeniris​​ , @laggyphone​​, @holacherrycola90​​, @jessiejunebug​​, @squeakymean​​, @laufxsn​​, @luracantspell​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress​​, @thatstressedtaco​​, @kcd15​