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palanaeum · 5 years

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favorite bird?

This is illegal you cant make me choose between my children

I love all birds for a variety of different reasons and they are of course the best of the lifeforms out there, but here are some birds I love and why I love them (this list is NOT exhaustive, this is just off the top of my head. If there are birds that you feel need to be on this list, PLEASE add them!)

Birds I love for their aesthetic

Barn Owls

Just look at them! They’ve got satellite dishes for faces and their ears are asymmetrical! Check out those beautiful feather markings on those wings! Not to mention those eyes!

Strawberry Finches

These ladies… the delicacy of their markings and how they look like they should be at fancy balls with their amazing red gowns and strings of pearls. Look at the way the red fades to black on the wings! Look at the white eyeliner on the bottom lid!

Birds I love that are kept by humans

Pacific Parrotlets

This little lady is Mia of the @flock-talk family. Parrotlets are amazingly smart little birds with TONS of personality. They aren’t the same as budgies; they’ve got shorter tails, longer lifespans, and they are mostly solitary where budgies are flock birds. You can check out Mia’s cool training videos as well as general bird-keeping knowledge on the Flock-Talk youtube channel!

Goshawks

Goshawks have a veeery different relationship to humans than parrots. Goshawks have been kept as hunting birds for centuries and are considered to be one of the hardest raptors to train. They are not domesticated, and are very much wild predators that only those with lots of experience with hawks should keep. If you want to know more about goshawks, falconry, or just want to read an amazing book, check out H is for Hawk by Helen MacDonald, an amazing story about the author’s experience training a young goshawk and how their relationship helped her explore the nature of being human after the loss of her father

Birds I love for their behavior

Oilbirds

These birds are an oddity! They are nocturnal, fruit-eating, and use echolocation as well as amazing night vision and a keen sense of smell to navigate at night and find fruit. They live in caves for the most part, and live in colonies with up to thousands of individuals. The name Oilbird comes from how the baby birds are SO fat that people used to use them as a source of oil. Fortunately, they aren’t hunted widely anymore. (The babies are so goddamn fat that they weigh almost twice as much as their parents before they fledge)

House Sparrows

Now these are some smart birds! I wanted to include them instead of the more popular crows, ravens, and bluejays because their smarts are so often overlooked. They are considered pests in most urban and suburban areas because they are very common and smart enough to know how to be a bother and stay alive. House sparrows started to become human-dependent around the start of agriculture, where the adult sparrows would feed on the grain harvested by humans. This led to mass killings of sparrows which initially caused an increase in crop production. Afterward, though, other grain pests’ populations exploded and crops failed. This is because although adult sparrows feed on grain, they feed their babies insects including grasshoppers and locusts, so in the end, they were, like all other animals, an important piece in the ecological puzzle. If you want to read more about house sparrows, including how they learned to fly in front of motion-sensors to open the sliding doors to cafeterias and get at the food inside, check out The Genius of Birds by Jennifer Ackerman, an amazing book about all kinds of smart birds and how amazing our feathered friends can be!

In conclusion

Birds are the best class of animals; they are dinosaurs with beaks, they are intelligent, they can talk human words as well as sing amazingly intricate songs of their own, and they’re covered in beautiful 3D-printed evolutionary miracles that allow them to fly. For an in-depth look at the incredible design and evolution of feathers as well as their significance in human history, check out

Feathers: The Evolution of a Natural Miracle by Thor Hanson! Just… read all the bird books. That’s it. Just read them all because these little guys are the best ever.

If there are more birds you feel should be on the bird appreciation list, please add to this! More people need to be obsessed with birds!

#birds #birdblr #barn owl #strawberry finch #pacific parrotlet #goshawk #oilbird #house sparrow #um. this got a little out of hand. i do not apologize #long post #what can i say i think about birds i go crazy #this post started out as 'look at this bird!' and turned into heres why these birds should be respected and loved'#originalcontent #thank you for this ask i know you didnt sign up for this #op #asks #if any of this is like... incorrect then please correct me i am NOT an expert i just lov birds #all the images have alt text also!#ive edited this post on desktop and mobile so if anything is wonky then rip me i guess. wish this was a good functional site

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esxchulte · 3 years

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Alright y’all here’s my first contribution to the Bruno x reader tags! Heads up, it’s long, and probably will have another chapter to it. (Also I am on mobile so I apologize if this is wonky as all get out (and it’s PG so far))

Chapter 1

For a while now you’ve been nervous to approach the man who lived up the stairs. For gossip and rumors were not the kindest talk around town, and being labeled, and blasphemed as the blacksheep of the family wasn’t the best knowledge to have of someone. Tall, dark, and brooding was the mouth-to-mouth gossip around town; and rumors to his visions killing a goldfish, to the death of a loved one made sure you stayed far away from even trying to find out if they held water. For he was the man of time, the man of misfortune, and a curse for the enclosed town of the Madrigals.

“…this is the stupidest idea you have ever had!” you mumbled under your breath bitterly as you ascended the stairs. Out of all the options at your fingertips, you decided to go to the man who would rather put a curse on you than actually help you. You should have just stuck with your original idea, buy a book on witchcraft, and try to figure it out yourself! A much more viable option to you at the moment compared to this daunting task. At least if you botched a spell in the book it’d be your own fault and curse, and not something he put on you.

Then the door was suddenly standing face-to-face with you, hanging tall and solemn in the hallway of steps. Studying the door closely you noticed the carvings in the wood were glowing brightly back at you. The man's eyes in particular seemed to be casting a strong glow, almost angrily down at you. His stance and etched nefarious face created unease in the pit of your stomach. Sizing up the door to at least try and gain a boost of confidence, you finally noticed a name etched into it, Bruno.

“Huh…what a normal name.” You said almost disappointingly, you never expected it to be so casual. Well, come to think of it, you never even really knew he had a name in the first place. “But if he did have one-” your brain supplied quickly, “-it definitely wouldn’t have been ‘Bruno’ ”, you snorted out loud at that thought. Truly, the least he could do was have something scary sounding, make him a bit more frightening to fit who he was.

Then the door swung open. There, standing in front of you, laid the man from your worst nightmares. He wore a green ruana, which you had heard as being a staple of his nefarious character, with a brown undershirt laying underneath. He was short, and kind of spindly looking, with dark curly hair reaching to his ears, and brown hollowed eyes slightly looking down at you. He looked absolutely nothing like the tales tossed around town, and most definitely did not fit into his imaginated ‘monster of misfortune’ role you had in your head. He seemed genuinely surprised to see you standing there, with his eyes widening slightly, and feet shuffling back a bit.

“Uh...hello...” the man said uncomfortably.

“Uh...hi, I’m guessing you're...Bruno?” you asked, trying to glance around to the front of the door. Remembering names was not one of your strong suits, and with avoiding trying to piss him off, forgetting his name probably was not going to do that for you. He then nodded his head at your question awkwardly, almost uneasy, like he was expecting you to berate him. You smiled uncomfortably back to try and ease the mood.

“Uh, well...do you still do your, uh, visions? Or are you...?” The man’s eyes lit up at that question. A little bit of genuine excitement seemed to blanket them.

“You want to get a vision from me?” he said, astonished.

“Um, yes?” you commented back questionly.

A small smile tugged on his lips at your answer. He then shuffled over to the side to let you through the door. Taking a step inside the room you blanched at the massiveness of it. How in the world does this room, well really this cavern, fit inside these walls. You even had to go up multiple steps to get here, so ruling it being underground made no sense, and the outer walls of the casita itself held no abnormal shapes to even equate to something as big as this laying inside.

“Wow…” you let escape out of your mouth.

You felt so miniscule in this room, with sand covering every object inside, and giant rock walls and steps circling you. You felt as if the room would swallow you up in a second if you were to violate some kind of law within it.

“Yeaaaah, haha, it’s pretty big” He answered, rubbing at his neck self consciously.

“Are all the rooms like this?” You said turning to him, the look of amazement covering your face.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s…impressive” you chuckled out exasperatedly in amazement. Of course, the powers of the Madrigals and la Casita were known all throughout the town. You’d actually had the fortune of witnessing some of the family and casitas gifts in action. Yet, the magic of the rooms themselves were only hearsay. Finally turning around you faced him, waiting for him to instruct you on what to do next.

“…” he silently blinked at you, a content look on his face. After staring at each other blankly for a bit, you finally raised your eyebrow up at him.

“…Oh! Uh, right this way.”

Chapter 2

#encanto bruno #encanto #encanto/bruno #bruno madrigal #bruno x reader #encanto bruno/reader #PG #first of many #possibly

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papyrus-onlyblogokay · 3 years

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Was watching some Undertale Au's animated (like underverse) and thought of a cool papyrus story to animate... BUUTTttt~

Ended up making a... A papyrus with time controll powers (like stopping and starting time, and possibly a sans with rewind and reverse time powers??)

And umm... Heres how papyrus looks like:

And i dont know why, but DAMN THAT'S A GOOD DESIGN-

(PS: I CANT DO A CUT ON MOBILE, SO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LONG POST ;-;)

The story is still a bit wonky, as its still freshly made out of the oven- but the concept is that:

Papyrus had finally fixed the machine in the basement after many weeks & months of work. To his dismay, like many of his great creations, it ends up blowing up in his face...literally.

Of course, this was not supposed to happen. Not canonically at least. The brothers where never supposed to fix the machine that could send them home. Leading to his file name changing to "ANomaly_0506_Time" more or less nicknamed "ANT" or "AT-papyrus."

He ends up getting trapped in 2 realities, due to the nature of the machine not only being crated by gaster, (a person who created a machine capable of shattering him across dimension-) but because the machine LITERALLY IS MADE TO SEND THEM TO AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION AND/OR WORLD.

So he gets trapped in the separate world tat continuously replays the exact event before he "fully perished" which means he still has burn marks and a few cracks, but is mostly left unscathed.

(Basically hes stuck in a time loop of the past few seconds. With only him being able to move/interact.)

And later learns he gains new abilities due to this.

The whole thing is based on the aesthetic and idea of "clocks" and everything that is related to them.

And thats as far as i got. I still am unsure what to do with the rest of the charctersconnected to this, i.e alphys, sans, gaster, frisk, flowey, and at some point perhaps even more minor characters like temmie, mettaton OR muffet, or toby fox (dog) himself.

Its a fun idea, but i mostly want feedback to see if its worth ACTUALLY producing something like this in comic or animated form.

So uh yeah, thats it. C YA!

#papyrus #undertale #gaster #sans #alphys #undertale au #time controll #send feedback #need feedback #concept #character design #character concepts

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thecassadilla · 3 years

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#6 “I'll find my way back to you” for KA❤️👀

Hi, India!!! 💕 I’m so sorry this prompt took me a bit of time to fulfill, but I was a bit busy and I wanted to take the time to make sure it was perfect. A little birdie told me that you’re a fan of the 1940s era, and that same little birdie helped me with some of the details for this fic (in case anyone is wondering, that little birdie is @tamorasky who I owe my life to at this point 😂 thanks for the help, Rhianne!!!)

Just as a fair warning to anyone reading, this fic does take place during WWII but there are very few mentions of the war. It’s mostly just mushy, sappy love letters exchanged between Kristoff and Anna throughout that period of time lol. I apologize if the formatting is wonky, I posted this on tumblr mobile. I really hope you enjoy it!!!! 💕

6. “I’ll find my way back to you.” Send me a prompt!

The day that Anna and Kristoff had been dreading for a long time had finally arrived.

As they stood on the platform of the train station, which was hustling and bustling with activity, it nearly felt as if they were the only two people in the world. But they were here for another reason; they were here to say goodbye to one another for the foreseeable future, and potentially, forever.

“You can’t leave me,” Anna cried, her eyes boring into him. “I-I need you.”

“I’ll find my way back to you,” Kristoff promised. “You know I will.”

“I know b-but…” she sniffled, trailing off.

He swiped at her cheeks with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything will be alright.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he acknowledged. “But we have to stay positive. I will come home to you.”

She nodded just as the shrill train whistle indicated that it was nearly time for them to separate.

“I love you,” Kristoff declared, ducking down to capture her lips. “And we will see each other again.”

“I love you, too,” Anna murmured, trying to memorize the sensation of the warmth of his lips on hers and the strength of his arms around hers. “Please write.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Can you just...hold me until you have to leave?”

“Of course.”

And he did, until the last possible moment, neither of them knowing when they would see each other again.

September 29, 1943

Dear Anna,

I know it hasn’t been long since I left, but I wanted to let you know that I miss you terribly and think of you often. All has been well for me aside from missing you.

Love Always,

Kristoff

P.S. Tell me - have the leaves started to change colors yet?

November 3, 1943

Dearest Kristoff,

My heart skipped a beat when I received your letter in the post. I’m glad everything has been well for you thus far, but I’d be lying if I said things have been well for me. It’s been difficult for me to focus on anything but your safety and well-being since you’ve been gone, and I spend most of my days praying for your safe return.

Love,

Anna

P.S. The leaves have changed colors since your last letter to me, and they’ve since fallen off of the trees. Winter is drawing closer, as you know.

January 16, 1944

My Sweetheart,

I beg of you, don’t let my absence consume you. I miss you more than words can describe, but you must continue to live your life - do not let your worry for me consume you. You have a life you should be busy living. I want to hear about your adventures, not about how sad you are that I am gone.

Love Always,

Kristoff

P.S. Will you be my valentine?

February 8, 1944

Dearest Kristoff,

It is difficult to not let your absence consume me. You are the first thought on my mind when I wake up in the morning, and the last before I go to sleep for the night. I am always thinking and worrying about you, and I am so looking forward to the day that we will be reunited.

As far as adventures go, I haven’t had many since you’ve been gone. I’ve been keeping busy, of course, but the days are long and dark without you.

All My Love,

Anna

P.S. Of course I will be your valentine - what kind of silly question is that?

P.P.S. I love when you call me your sweetheart. It brings a smile to my face when so little else does.

April 30, 1944

To My Sweetheart, Anna,

I apologize for the delays in my letters. It is spring now. I hope all of the leaves have returned to the trees, and I hope the flowers are blooming in lovely shades of yellows and pinks. I sincerely hope you are able to take advantage of the milder weather; perhaps you could take up gardening? Or painting? I’m sure you’d do a lovely job painting the colorful landscapes of Arendelle.

Everything is well. I miss you, and I love you, always. I can’t wait to be back in your arms.

Love,

Kris

May 14, 1944

Darling Kristoff,

I have been waiting with baited breath to hear from you. I wanted to write to you again after I had gone so long without hearing from you, but I was convinced not to (by someone who I shall not name - though I’m certain you know who I am referring to). I am so sorry for not listening to my instincts.

I am also sorry that I was not able to send you regards in time for your birthday last month. I imagine that it was nothing like a birthday celebrated at home, but I hope you were able to enjoy yourself nonetheless. I think we both know that I am not much of a baker, but I will try my hardest to bake you a cake when you return home, and we’ll celebrate then.

I also regret to inform you that I’ve neither planted a garden nor painted a picture of Arendelle. You have more faith in my abilities than I do, and I truly don’t think I’d be able to plant a garden or paint a picture that anyone other than you would enjoy.

Since you’ve been gone, there has been a Kristoff-sized hole in my heart. Life is not the same without you. I miss you terribly, and will not feel peace until I see you again.

Your Girl,

Anna

June 1, 1944

To My Beloved,

Please do not be sorry about missing my birthday or not writing sooner. I am just thrilled that you continue to find the time to write to silly old me when you surely have bigger and better things to occupy your time. Though, looking forward to letters from you is one of the few things that has been getting me by.

Also, please do not sell yourself short, my love. You are incredibly talented, and anyone would be lucky to walk past a garden you planted or view a piece of your artwork. In fact - if you have the time, will you please paint me a portrait of something? I want to display it in our future home.

I hope you don’t think that I’ve forgotten your birthday is this month. I probably won’t be able to write to you again before your big day arrives, so - Happy 19th Birthday! I sincerely hope that you are able to celebrate with your sister and friends and that this year is the happiest, healthiest one yet.

Just remember, everyday we get a little bit closer to seeing one another again.

Love You Forever,

Kristoff

P.S. If you can, please send a photograph of yourself. I know seeing your beautiful face will help to get me through my toughest days.

June 23, 1944

Dear Kristoff,

You must be delusional to believe that I have bigger and better things to occupy my time with other than writing to you. My heart beats for you, and even if I didn’t have the time, I would make it.

I think you are the only person on the planet who has ever referred to me as talented. Perhaps in the context of my clumsiness I am talented, but I am no artist or gardener or baker. Are you sure you’d want to display artwork I painted in our home? I feel like it would bring nothing but shame and embarrassment to me and my poor skills.

Thank you for the birthday wishes. I knew you wouldn’t forget, but I have to say, I am ecstatic that you remembered. I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate this year - life is too bleak without your presence. I will not have another happy birthday until you have returned home safely.

I’m sure by now you’ll have seen the photograph of myself that you requested. I apologize for my disheveled appearance - cosmetics have been difficult to come by since the war began. Elsa insisted that I looked fine, but I know I’m not as pretty as the other girls who are sending their beaus photographs. I only hope that you have not forgotten what I look like and are not turned off by my appearance.

I miss you more than anything, and am very eager for you to return home.

I Love You,

Anna

August 31, 1944

Dearest Anna,

I can assure you, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on and every time I look at the photograph you sent, I can’t help but smile and think about how much I love and miss you. I cannot wait until the day I can hold you in my arms again. All of the other men are envious that I can call you, “my girl.”

In fact, the first thing I intend to do when I return home is marry you - I know this is not the romantic way to tell you, but I promise I will not keep you waiting for another moment, especially since you’ve been so patient this entire time. I look forward to the day that I can call you my wife, and then from that day forward we can celebrate every birthday, holiday, and milestone together for the rest of our lives.

Love,

Kristoff

P.S. I will be proud to display any artwork you create in our home.

September 18, 1944

Dear Kristoff,

I cannot believe you’ve already been gone for a year. It has truthfully been the slowest and grimmest year of my entire life. I spend all day, everyday longing for your safe return.

Your kind comments flatter me, but I can hardly believe that the other men you’re acquainted with are envious of someone as plain-looking as me.

On the topic of marriage - yes! I will marry you! You are right, that was a dreadfully unromantic way to ask me for my hand, but I would never (and could never) say “no” to you. You’ve truly just made me the happiest girl on the face of the earth! But oh, how you humor me; my parents always said patience was a virtue I never acquired. And besides, I don’t feel particularly patient - not with you promising to marry me when you return.

Forever and Always,

Anna

January 27, 1945

Dear Anna,

I apologize for the delay in responding to your letters. All is well, I promise. If my letters become more infrequent over the next few months, it’s because things are changing quickly.

Something that hasn’t changed are my feelings for you. I’m very much looking forward to coming home to your beautiful face. I love and miss you more than anything, darling.

Love,

Kristoff

February 20, 1945

Dear Kris,

Of course I understand that things have been very intense and you can’t write as frequently as you used to, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss hearing from you. That’s why I’ve been sending you so many mundane letters in between our correspondence - I have nothing else to occupy my free time, and I hope hearing about the neighborhood gossip and my woes have kept you entertained during this time.

I love you, Kris. Time is simultaneously moving too fast and not fast enough. I haven’t had a good night’s rest since you’ve been gone, and I’m very much looking forward to being able to love you in person again.

Your Girl,

Anna

May 7, 1945

Dear Anna,

I could never view your letters as mundane; every time I receive a letter from you in the post, I can feel a spark reigniting inside of me. I’m here fighting for you, baby. You keep me going, and I don’t think I’d have lasted this long if I didn’t have you to come home to.

I love and miss you, sweetheart. I’m so ready to hold you in my arms again, and this time, I’m not letting go.

Always,

Kristoff

June 2, 1945

To My Sweetheart,

Please continue to fight for me; I need you to come home safely. I need to see you and know that you’re real, and not just a figment of my imagination. You’ve been gone for far too long, and I hardly know what to do with myself.

I just want you to come home to me. That is all I could ever ask for, and just know, I’ll be wishing for your safe return for my birthday this year. Hopefully you’ll be home soon. I need to touch you and know you’re real.

Love Always,

Anna

September 18, 1945

To My One and Only,

Wonderful news, darling - I’ll be coming home to you very soon. I can’t wait to see you.

Love,

Kristoff

And finally, the day they had both been waiting for had arrived. Anna stood in the train station, clutching her purse in her shaking hands as she eagerly awaited the train’s arrival. When it finally pulled into the station, her eyes continuously scanned the crowded room, searching for the person she had desperately missed for the past two years.

And then suddenly, he was running towards her, a massive smile plastered across his face.

“Kristoff!” she exclaimed breathlessly, bursting into tears at the sight of him. She raised a hand to cover her mouth, unable to move or think straight as her emotions overwhelmed her.

“Why are you crying?” Kristoff asked softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he beamed down at her.

“I’m just so happy you’re here,” Anna sniffled, rushing to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“I told you I would find my way back to you,” he soothed, pulling her into his arms. “You know I don’t break my promises.”

“We both know that your safe return wasn't entirely up to you.” She nuzzled her face against his chest, still in disbelief that he was standing in front of her.

“I had a good reason to keep fighting,” Kristoff grinned, his own eyes growing a bit misty. “There was a girl back at home who promised to marry me when I asked her, and I couldn’t let her down.”

#Kristanna #kristanna fanfiction #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fanfiction #my writing

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harghoes · 4 years

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shower time

any clone x reader

warnings: super fluffy, a cute read

a/n: omg it’s finally December! i decided to start out the month with that curly haired clone + reader. i am so excited to share this one. i have more to come too :)) so stick around. formatting might be a little wonky but i’m on mobile lol

it had been a long day. you were just expecting a quick and easy day filled with paperwork but plans change. you were stuck running around all day instead of doing your actual job. it was exhausting and frustrating, considering the workload you had prior. now everything is backed up even more.

since you were expecting to sit at your desk and read, you didn’t wear your hair up and now it’s a complete mess. the curl pattern that was there this morning is completely gone. honestly, you can’t tell if there was any curl. it’s just a big frizzball at this point.

the entire day that you were running around, you were also running your hands through your hair. your mother always told you that was a bad habit. she was right, once again.

what you didn’t know is that your clone boyfriend was having the same issue. while his wasn’t from running his hands through his hair, the helmet resting on his head constantly caused lots of frizz. his curls have started to fray too.

you end up back at your quarters at 1800 and instantly plop down on the couch. this was a hectic day and you wanted nothing more than to greet your man when he got home. little did you know, he was just a few steps behind you. he punches in the code to your room right after you get comfortable on the couch for a nap.

your head perks up toward the door and watches as it slides open. standing there, in his armor, you forget just how special your relationship is. you each chose each other and continue to each day. you see his helmet turn to face you and then his pause.

a few seconds later you hear the bubbling of laughter. you quirk a brow his way and then he’s taking his helmet off.

“cyare, look at your hair! you look like you stuck your finger in a socket!” he breathes the words out between laughs.

you take one look at his hair and cover your mouth.

“my hair? look at yours! what a mess! you have a mini afro going on there, cyar’ika.”

he reaches his hands up to his hair and feels around. both of you take a glance at the other before bursting out laughing.

it takes a few minutes for you two to calm down but when you do, you propose an idea.

“how about we go shower and get rid of this frizz? we might shock each other, otherwise.”

he lets out a chuckle before saying, “i’d like that very much. you got that one shampoo, right? the one that smells like coconut and spearmint?”

you get up to help him out of his armor. you start at the bottom and he starts at the top.

“i have the matching conditioner too. before you ask, i have coconut oil and product too. you forget, we have the same issue, cyare.”

you lead him to the shower and begin to turn it on. you each get completely undressed and share a kiss before you step in. you are under the stream of water first, wetting your hair, before switching places. he lets the water drip from his head after he follows your lead. you press a quick kiss to his left pec before turning, and reaching for the shampoo. he slaps your butt lightly and causes you to jump.

you spin around and swat his chest while letting out a laugh. you beckon him down to your height and pour the shampoo into your hand. you rub your hands together to allow the suds to form before you apply it to his hair. massaging his head, you lather his hair with the shampoo, feeling him relax, before you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek.

a slow smile spreads across his face, and you push him under the water at the exact moment. he starts sputtering, soap in his mouth, while you try to apologize and hold back a laugh. you complete rinsing his hair of the shampoo, and he finally opens his eyes to look at you.

“that was real smooth, cyare. you get me all smiley and dopey then force suds in my mouth.” he's speaking through a wide grin.

you let out a laugh and reply, “i didn’t mean to! you just happened to smile while i was going to rinse your hair. it’s not my fault you smiled.”

at this statement, he raises an eyebrow and starts crowding you. you think he’s going to retaliate, until he grabs the shampoo behind you. surprised, you look at him with wide eyes.

he catches your gaze and smiles, “i’ll get you back for it, don’t worry, but for right now i just want to bathe my favorite girl.”

not expecting that answer, you stand still, until he’s forcing you to switch spots. he repeats your process and begins massaging your head. you close your eyes and hum contently. he pushes you into the water softly and begins to rinse your hair, too.

he pokes your side. you know instantly where it’s going, and go to tell him ‘no’, but he’s already started. he’s tickling your sides and forcing laughs out of you.

he starts talking, “this is what you get for pushing me under, now you know how i felt.”

you continue to laugh and squirm, until you speak up and say, “ow! wait, stop, i got soap in my eye! give, give!”

instantly he’s pulling you from the shower head and cooing over you.

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry. here, what can i do? i’m sorry, cyare.”

you punch his arm lightly before giggling, “i didn’t have soap in my eye, you dope. i just needed you to stop before we slipped. reckless boy.”

he lets out a breath, “yeah. i guess that wasn’t the best time for a tickle fit.”

you let out another giggle before reaching for the conditioner.

“comb, in here or out?”

he thinks for a second before deciding, “out there. i just want to hold you for a second.”

applying conditioner to both of you, he wraps his arms around your waist. you two are facing each other, chest to chest, breaths mingling. you stare at each other and slowly sway. letting the conditioner soak is important, and waiting for it like this isn’t so bad. you rest your head on his chest, and he rests his hand on your hair.

after a few more minutes like that, you two soap each other up in body wash, before rinsing that and the conditioner down the drain. you turn the shower off and each dry off.

you two walk over to the bathroom counter. now, it’s time for the real fun part. you pull the coconut oil down, and you each begin to work on your hair prep. every once and awhile, there’s a hip bump here and there or a tug of the towel.

it’s a soothing end to a stressful day and you two end up in bed facing each other. he’s staring at you with nothing but love, and you’re staring right back. you’ve got a few of his curls between your fingers, trying to help them back into their proper direction, and he’s got his hand on your waist.

what a life.

#any clone x reader #commander wolffe #commander fox #commander cody #commander wolffe x reader #commander fox x reader #commander cody x reader

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drakesdevils · 4 years

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The Five Stages of Grief (Sam Drake x F!Reader)

Summary: Samuel Drake is dead to the world, stuck in a prison for a crime he did not commit for the rest of eternity.

PART TWO

(had to post them separate because Tumblr is a big bully)

Warnings: S*icidal thoughts, PTSD, imprisonment, violence

Uncharted Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader) Masterlist

A/N: I guess it has been some time lol. Wrote this because I’m forever angry at Naughty Dog for ghosting over the fact that Sam spent.. 13 years in prison.. also I don’t speak Spanish so these translations are probably a bit wonky.

I apologize this chapter is so lengthy! I can’t put a read more tab on mobile.

•••

Denial

Sam awoke in a small room, dazed and confused There were stone walls, a blaring light above him. It reeked of blood and sweat and every grossly humane thing in existence.

At first, panic set in, he thrashed and writhed and felt a burning pain in his stomach, like his insides were being torn apart. He heard yelling, he felt two sets of hands push him down, something pricked him.

And then he was out.

When he awoke again, he was in the same room. There was grogginess in him, like something had been shrouding his mind. He blinked a few times before he attempted to move again, only to realize he had been restrained. He struggled against the restraints, feeling that same burning in his stomach, the pain became unbearable.

He laid back onto the metal table and caught his breath, his shirt was bloodied. There was blood all over him. Was that his blood?

Oh god.

He remembered being shot, watching his brother lose the hope in his eyes, he felt the blood rise in his throat, and then he felt his bones crunch as he fell. And he remembered thinking of you, in a way he knew it would be his last thought. A glimmer of you in his jacket, smiling and beaming at him. And then it was over. Why wasn’t is over?

Oh god no.

Terror and shock rose in him, no no, this could not be happening. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to die when he fell. He was supposed to be six feet under by now.

No, this was Hell. He was being punished, and forced to live a life of pain. This was his personal punishment for a crime he did not commit.

“Ah, Mr. Drake, you are awake,” A voice said as the door opened in the bland room. There was a counter with ‘medical’ supplies next to it.

A man stepped into the room, a doctor?

“You broke your neck when you fell. You’re dead. We could not save you,” The man began. Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You are legally dead. Except of course, you are not. A man came looking for you by the way, we had to break the news to him,” The man teased him cruelly, a glimmer in his eye.

“Where is my brother?” Sam croaked out.

“Oh, long gone by now. We told him we found you dead. As far as the world knows, you are. I hope you enjoy prison, Samuel Drake,” The doctor cackled menacingly as he left Sam. Two guards entered, they took the restraints off of his arms and legs, they pulled him off the table roughly.

He wanted to fight back, he wanted to throw every punch their way and escape that hellhole. But there was no fight in him, his body was broken, everything in him felt like it was screaming.

They dragged him to his cell since he could not stand. He heard the catcalls and whistles from the other prisoners, freshmeat they cheered, a gringo too. Maybe they would rough him up a bit.

They threw him into the cold cell, he landed on his back and it knocked the wind from him, even if the air was burning and stuffy, there was no life in that prison, there was no happiness, no joy, no human emotion. There was only ruin.

He quickly lifted up his shirt and examined his wounds. A large bandage on his chest, he remembered feeling the blood enter his throat and suffocate him.

He remembered watching Nathan become heartbroken.

He remembered the fall.

No, this was not happening!

•••

Anger

The guards punished him brutally for killing one of their own. They beat him daily, they dragged him out of his cell, they made an example out of him even if he hadn’t done anything, they made a mockery out of him.

And the men followed suit too, they teased and threatened. He had to watch his back every waking hour. He could not let his guard down for even a second.

There was no one to help him, there was no one to save him. He was left alone in a foreign prison where he was hated, where he was starved and beaten. No men would talk to him, he was seen as a lesser being, someone to pick on.

A part of him began to hate the world too. He resented Nathan, for not trying to save him. He resented you for letting him go on this stupid trip. He had a life sentence, he was never getting out.

But most of all, he hated himself. He could not look in the dirty mirror, he would not talk to anyone, he let the guards beat him up. He did not fight back, but he watched his back. If someone were to sneak up on him, at least he would know it was coming.

He tried not to think, to not let his anger overcome him. He did not want to hate his baby brother and you, people who did not deserve such hatred. But he did think. He thought constantly, there was nothing to keep his mind off of it. He had no money to buy anything, no one to send him anything, no books, no entertainment. He was not allowed to get a prison job, the guards wanted to watch his every movement.

He saw red every hour of every day. He saw it every time he blinked. It was all around him, it was bubbling and pooling inside him. Sam wanted to punch the wall and scream, he wanted to lash out, he wanted every man in that prison dead. Sam wanted to scream at you and Nathan for abandoning him, for allowing him to live the rest of his life in prison. But there was no fight in him. There was no charm, no quips. A shitty slinged broken arm and healing bullet wounds, bruises all over his body and aching bones. There was no way he could fight. So he didn’t.

•••

Bargaining

Time passed slowly. Late at night when he watched the moon through the barred window in his cell, he wondered what would have happened if things had gone differently.

The only thing that brought him comfort was the thought of you. Even if what ifs were painful, a part of him was comforted by them. As he viewed the night sky, when the tropical storms rolled in, through the sweltering heat, especially then would it bring him comfort.

A life with you. Maybe he would have had his big break, found Avery’s treasure and never have to work another day in his life. He would be satisfied by his winnings and never want to go out and look for another. You and him could have been married, like he had promised, a small wedding that was beautiful, seeing you walk down the aisle in the dress you picked out, kissing you in front of everyone. Then you would have bought a grand home in Boston, lived out your thirties and then had kids, he would become the father he never had. Raised them right, they would become doctors or lawyers. And then you and him would truly retire, be old and frail together and one day it would end.

And it hurt to think that way. To want something so bad, but know it would never happen. To know that he would be stuck in this hellhole for eternity, suffering each and every day. Being subject to such abuse and horrors was something no innocent man should ever have to go through.

Remembering the anger he felt at you especially hurt. There was nothing you or Nathan could have done. He never wanted to think like that again, to imagine himself yelling at you, for screaming and arguing. He would never forgive himself for feeling that way.

Some nights he would wake up panting, thinking he had first woken up in the ‘doctors’ office again, that the clock had been reset. Some nights he woke up thinking he was in your arms again, he imagined you shushing him gently and lulling him back to sleep. Most nights he wished he didn’t wake up at all.

He wondered if you thought of him, if you had moved on, if you were living the white picket dream he didn’t think he wanted until now. What he wouldn’t give to be out and see you one more time, even if you had moved on, even if you were married to some other person, he wanted to see you once more. To look you in the eye and remember all that had happened, to know that he had come out on the other side.

But it was all foolish. He knew he was never getting out.

•••

Depression

“Sam?” A voice whispered into the cell. Armando.

“What?” He said groggily.

“Wake up. Dinner is in five minutes,” Armando said. He looked outside, it was still light out.

“Come on man, I’ll just buy from commissary later tonight,” He groaned, rolling back onto his stiff bed.

“Get up. I let you sleep and kept the other guards off your back. You have to eat, Samuel,” Armando pressed. The only guard who showed him kindness. Who smuggled books for him, who slipped him money every now and then, who convinced the guards to let him work on laundry duty to earn a few extra bucks. The guard he originally despised, who he thought was only trying to be nice to him so he could wait for Sam to slip up.

Sam simply let his eyes shut again.

“I have a present for you if you get up.”

“I don’t care,” Sam replied, nothing mattered to him anymore.

“I am sure you will like this one,” Armando continued.

“Fine,” Sam sighed, pulling himself out of his bed.

Armando unlocked the cell for him, he looked both ways to make sure no one was coming and shoved a book into his hand.

“No way!” Sam said surprised, looking down at the book.

“A General History of The Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates! You found it!” Sam spoke fervently, he could not quell his excitement.

“Shhhh,” He reminded Sam, looking around to make sure no one had heard him.

“Shit, sorry, but how the hell did you find it?” Sam said more quietly, flipping through the pages.

“Ah, simple really. The library got it shipped from another one. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case they couldn’t ship it,” Armando explained.

“Well shit, thank you. I have the other books in my cell so you can return them, let me grab them for you,” Sam replied, he didn’t want Armando having a hefty library late fee because of him.

He gathered the things in his small cell. Books about history, mostly non fiction, anything Armando could get his hands on that was in English.

He piled the books into Armando’s hands, hopefully no one would be suspicious if he managed to make it out quickly enough. Armando’s shift was ending in a few minutes.

Things were silent for a moment as Sam gathered his courage to ask Armando.

“Could.. could you send the letter to my brother? I slipped it in one of the pages of the book about the Renaissance,” Sam pleaded quietly.

Armando’s lips formed into a tight line as he contemplated it.

“I will see what I can do.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Armando, seriously, thank you so much,” Sam said sincerely. The only man in that prison who had his back.

•••

The warden called him into his office one night. The cruel man who was one of the ‘doctors’, the man who haunted his dreams. Sam was nervous, he could feel his hands shake.

“Samuel Drake,” The man said with a fake inviting tone, urging him to sit down. He sat with cockiness, his hands steepled as he watched him with hawk eyes.

Sam didn’t sit.

“I hear you have been attempting contact with your brother. This is against the rules, Samuel, you know this.”

Sam didn’t reply. He knew he was screwed.

“We will have to punish you. Solitary for three days.” The warden was taking joy in seeing Sam suffer.

Sam’s eyes widened, three goddamn days?!

“And a correctional activity with a few of our officers.” Sam knew what that meant.. a beating, a rough one. Outside the solitary confinement cells, they’d shackle him to the wall, beat him and throw him in the cell for three days.

“Where’s Armando?” Sam asked, letting his emotions not leak into his voice.

“Gone. You will never see him again.”

Fuck. Armando had been fired? All because he wanted to send a letter to Nathan.

The warden smiled at his silence.

“Goodbye, Samuel,” The warden dismissed him, he was nearly at the door. His entire body felt heavy.

“And if you ever try anything like this again, we will make a lesson out of you.”

He knew what that meant too.

•••

Just when things had started to look up, they had gone down again. Three days in solitary with a broken nose and black eye and split lip was not his favorite thing in the world. Not to mention his aching bones. The guards spat at him, pulled his hair, made fun of him, did everything to make him feel less than human. It didn’t work though, barely anything got through to him now. He had a devil may care attitude. It was better to.

He was thankful for the uninterrupted sleep even if it was on the concrete. Only time he got interrupted was when the guards would shove the shitty food to him.

It was maddening for him, to only hear silence when he was awake, to have his thoughts suffocate him. His life, wasted away in prison. Dead to the world and practically dead to himself, there was no reason for living.

Minutes ticked on, when he was sleeping he was trying to count how many times a fly in the cell touched a wall. He counted 473 times in the span of 68 hours. Eventually the fly died, or it escaped, he wasn’t sure because he was sleeping when the buzzing stopped.

The blood was caked on him, he could barely move, so he laid on the cold concrete and watched the fly bounce back and forth. He was losing track of time.

Most of his memories of his life prior to prison were blurred, he remembered how things went down, but people’s faces and voices were especially fuzzy. Like TV static, there was something there but he couldn’t quite see what.

He hated solitary, but it was better than being hit by the guards, teased in the prison yard, yelled at. Most days he liked being alone.

•••

Acceptance

“Pongan sus traseros en línea, muchachos. ¡Es la hora de cenar! Feliz Navidad,” The announcer said.

“Aye! Carlos! Sam!” Victor yelled across the chow hall. Sam and Carlos looked up at their friend.

“Merry Christmas friends. I just got off the phone with my girl. She told me she sent a package here, it should arrive in a couple days,” Victor said happily.

Carlos snickered, Sam eyed him as he shoveled food into his mouth. Christmas, the one day of the year where the guards weren’t awful and the food wasn’t as bad. It was still gloomy in the prison no matter the day, but at least the spirits were slightly up.

“Something funny, Carlos?” Victor narrowed his eyes at Carlos.

“Nothing. Just think it is funny you have your girlfriend sending you things. Why is she taking care of you? You’re the one who got in trouble.”

Victor rolled his eyes, “That’s funny, Carlos, real funny, seeing how you love to drop your pants for-“

“Knock it off you two,” Sam threatened, glaring at the two of them.

“I’ll give you something from the package, Sam since you are so nice to me, unlike this puta,” Victor said, gesturing towards Carlos.

“Sure thing,” Sam said. He knew Victor was just saying that.

“I wish I was with my family this Christmas. How many has it been? Two?” Carlos wondered.

“Been three for me,” Victor replied. “Sam?”

“I think nine. Or ten. I can’t remember, all of its blurring together.”

The air became somber. “One day we’ll all get out, brothers, we’ll be with our families on Christmas and get presents and eat all that good shit,” Victor began.

Sam didn’t want to hear any of this bullshit.

“I can’t even remember what my girlfriend sounded like. I haven’t heard her, or my brother in years, I don’t even know if they’re still around, so Christmas with them is kinda off the table for me,” Sam confessed solemnly. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about Christmas joy. He never was.

Victor and Carlos were silent, they looked at each other nervously. They knew his story, rumors passed around over the years. He had risen in the ranks of prison, he had more freedoms, the guards picked on him less, the men respected him more. He had even made a few friends.

“You’ll get out one of these days, you just have to hold on. I bet she’s waiting for you still, probably will be waiting on the bed for you with her legs op-” Carlos said.

Sam quickly cut him off, “Yeah.. I doubt it.”

•••

Reunion

The guards roughly pulled him out of his cell one day. He hadn’t gotten that type of treatment in a long time. He was surprised as they cuffed him and pushed him down the hallway. What the hell was going on?

“You guys mind telling me what we’re doing?” Sam asked as one of the guards pushed him down the hall.

“Just keep moving,” One of them ordered. They walked through the cell blocks, the loud chatter was deafening. There was a game of blackjack happening in the yard, he could see the big group of men gathered outside.

They were headed straight for the warden's office.

Shit. What the hell happened now?

They pushed him into the room. The warden stood stoically, looking out the window.

“You’re a free man, Samuel,” The warden spoke.

This had to be a joke. The warden was just fucking with him.

Sam snorted, “Okay.”

“10,000 it took. The man was insistent on us letting you go for a fair price,” The warden glanced back over at him. The man who first gave him the news of his life sentence and laughed in his face.

“You can stop with the bullshit now.”

“It’s not a lie, Samuel. You are a free man. You may leave now.” The warden turned to look at him. And then he knew it was true.

Sam could feel every heartbeat, he could feel the freedom flow in him. He could feel the shackles being torn off. He was free. How was this possible?

Sam stood frozen in his spot.

“Leave,” The warden barked. Sam scrambled quickly and left.

This was happening. It was really happening.

There was no paperwork he needed to fill out since he was not registered. Victor and Carlos both got out a year ago, there were no needs for goodbyes.

The guards let him outside. It all felt like a dream, like he would wake up inside solitary again. He felt like he was floating, like every step was another one closer to the heavens.

He heard the buzzer go off, he felt the vibrations in his bones.

Who was waiting for him? Who bailed him out?

As he walked through the gates, he was officially a free man. Liberty rushed in his veins. That first breath of freedom was exhilarating, there was no stench of the prison, it was simply fresh and clean air.

Rafe. Rafe goddamn Adler stood by his sleek black car. Was that this year's model? So much had changed..

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Glad to see you’re alive, and somewhat well,” Rafe smiled, brushing Sam’s shoulder off.

“Where’s Nathan?” Sam asked.

“No thank you? Thirteen years go by and you would think he would be a little more appreciative. You know Sam, you’re starting to sound a little ungrateful.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be grateful when I know my brother is well.”

“Fine. I assumed as much. He’s doing well, retired, living the white picket dream as far as I know.” Rafe rolled his eyes.

“And Y/N?” A part of him was afraid to know.. he had wondered for so long. But he was scared too, he felt cowardly for being afraid to face you. All he wanted was to see you again, and now he was a coward for being afraid.

“Married too,” Rafe sighed, becoming annoyed at Sam.

It felt like a stab, worse than any pain he had experienced during prison, holding on to the thought of you was what kept him going. He should have expected it though.. he should have known.

“Well, anyways, I wouldn’t go moseying around, disrupting their lives. Especially not now, I mean come on, your brother is retired and your ex girlfriend is married. Don’t go trying to mess things up.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. Jumping back into their lives, especially if you were married was cruel. It was better if you and Nathan still thought he was dead.

He felt even more hollow than he had ever been before.

“Let’s talk business, then, shall we?”

•••

#Samuel drake x reader #Sam drake x reader #uncharted 4 #Nathan drake #uncharted #Elena fisher #Samuel drake #Sam drake #uncharted x reader #uncharted fanfiction

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

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Month of New Operatic Works, Round 2, #14: Susanna (McGegan recording with Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, 1990): Reactions

First, apologies for the slightly wonky formatting: unlike other such posts, I am doing this on the mobile app as I am listening to Halévy’s Le dilettante d’Avignon (post on THAT is forthcoming).

So something you may know about me is that I love cooking. However, I absolutely hate the idea of cooking a full-blown meal every night because for me, that usually means at least 45 minutes to an hour per night and your girl doesn’t have time or patience for that. So when I cook, I like to spend a few hours cooking anything and everything in the kitchen so I have it for days and days. And that’s what I did yesterday.

Since I am also a firm believer in multitasking, I figured that I could fit in something for this series while cooking, and I picked this oratorio/opera-in-all-but-name-but-has-been-staged. Reason being, I am still testing the waters as to whether or not I’ll get noise complaints from neighbors if I play opera in the kitchen. This is in English and Händel is honestly about as inoffensive one can get with blasting classical music, so I decided to do this. (24 hours later, I have not received any noise complaints, so I think we’re okay.)

At any rate, Händel (like pretty much all Baroque) is vigorous, free, and boptastic, and a) this is no exception and b) it makes for perfect cooking music. It’s also long, which is great for when you spend several hours in the kitchen.

However, I’m not convinced that this length is entirely warranted in terms of the work itself. In particular, I felt that both the exposition and the final scene were drawn out for far too long. Susanna’s innocent? Great. We do not need multiple da capo arias for the heroine after that revelation or multiple choruses just to say “she’s innocent, that’s great, fidelity is cool”.

However, I cannot fault the music. It’s beautiful, it’s catchy, and it’s really demanding (although top to bottom, the musical forces were up for the challenge. there is a particularly difficult bass role with an extremely large range and lots of coloratura and I tip my hat to the man who sang the Second Elder because it’s brutal but by golly he did it). It’s quintessential Händel.

The story is the story of Susanna and the Elders, taken from the Apocrypha portions of the Book of Daniel. As someone raised in churches that don’t count any of the Apocrypha as part of the Bible, my only previous contact with this story was from independent curiosity into art history and Carlisle Floyd’s 1955 opera reworking Susannah (my beloved).

While it’s refreshing to see Susanna get her happy ending, I do wish she had a little more agency in her own story and getting that happy ending. I mean, no one believes her and the only reason Susanna doesn’t get killed is because Daniel—written to be played by a boy soprano—who is a literal child, can get the community to listen to him and let him question the Elders. I think looking at this from a modern angle, today we can look at this as a commentary on how people look at sexual assault: the word of any man, even a literal boy, is immediately taken over that of a woman, the one who suffered the injustice. So maybe that’s good. And the libretto is excellent and surprisingly modern in many ways, such as this quote from Act II when Susanna tells the elders to leave her alone and that she’ll tell on them for spying on her while bathing:

Thou foolish woman! Will thy plaints avail

When our grave tongues repeat the well-forg'd tale?

Will those suspect, to whom your grief complains,

That blood could riot in an Elder's veins?

I mean...

Personally, I feel like Susanna’s attendant, who was presumably within earshot for the duration of the incident, should have had a bigger role in the story. I would absolutely love if the two of them could have gotten justice. But oh well. So goes the world.

Anyway, I recommend this.

#opera #opera tag #oratorio #month of new operatic works round 2 #Susanna #Handel #Händel #George Frideric Handel

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onmywaytobe · 4 years

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Dissidia Writeblr March 2021 Week 2

Ooo she do be late but she tried her best! Thank you @maple-writes for working with me and thanks @dissidia-writeblr for running this amazing event!

(apologies for any wonky formatting I’m posting on mobile and I’ll fix it tomorrow)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

As Sichoris walks in front of Warren and Leo, he turns back with a smile. “You were summoned to this world from your worlds. But it’s only temporary. Normally, people who are summoned here are returned in a few weeks.” Leo doesn’t pay much attention, absently noting that his dreams weren’t usually this lore-heavy. “This world is facing a crisis,” Sichoris continues. “The magic in this world has gone out of control and is randomly changing people into beings of light or darkness who prey on humans. Some people want to find a way to change the beings back, but Ritania has faced the bitter truth that once changed, no one can change back. So, we are trying to find a solution to the problem that caused all this. Someone performed the summoning spell, and the leader I work for wants to see if the people who have been summoned have anything that can help us fight the beings. You’ll be meeting him soon.”

He sounds very serious as he leads them into the big city. The buildings loom tall and impassive, metal and stone against the clear blue sky. The soldiers standing guard watch them, but they don’t say anything. There aren’t many people walking on the streets. Leo is surprised to see the city so empty. From afar, it had looked like a bustling metropolis. Yet the majority of the inhabitants of the city seem to be hiding away, leaving the soldiers the only ones outside. Sichoris looks back at Warren and Leo. “Ritania is actually at war at the moment, so that’s why there are so many soldiers around.”

“War, huh?” Warren mumbles, taking a sip from their travel mug and seeming awfully casual about the whole thing. Maybe there’s something brewing under the surface. Or maybe they’re used to things like this.

Leo stares at them, wondering at how out of place they look here in their office attire. Probably not. “Magic, war... what is this, Harry Potter?” He rolls his eyes, a little annoyed with his own imagination. Maybe he’s been watching too many movies with Carter.

“Who’s that?” Warren asks, but Leo wasn’t in the mood to explain.

“Carter would love this,” he mutters. Now that he’d thought of her, he was sure that was the explanation, her influence on his mind.

“Who?” Warren asks again, looking concerned. Now Leo feels a bit rude. He doesn’t want to leave Warren confused, even if they were just in his mind.

But now he has to figure out how to describe Carter. “She’s...” Who is she to him? There isn’t one word for her, what she means to him. Their relationship isn’t exactly conventional. “A friend,” Leo eventually settles on. “She loves good stories.”

Trying to be friendly, even if they don’t understand, Warren gives him a small smile. “I guess whenever we wake up you’ll have a new one for her. Might not make much sense though,” they add.

“Doesn’t matter.” Leo sighs. “She likes them when they’re exciting, that’s all that counts.”

God, he misses her. Maybe the next time they meet he could tell her about this dream. He needs something to talk about, something lighter to take their minds off work. Everything is always so serious. Although this dream is starting to get serious too, with all the talk of soldiers and war. He can practically hear Carter’s voice, insisting that conflict is what makes stories interesting. She really would love this, Leo thinks. She’d probably be interviewing this guy Sichoris, trying to find out more about the politics of the country and trying to uncover the inside scoop about the war.

Something Sichoris said starts nagging at Leo. What if this isn’t a dream? What if he really has been transported to another world? Without his meds, who knows how long he’ll last here. He doubts he would make it the few weeks that Sichoris mentioned. Which means he will never see Carter again. The thought is almost too much to bear.

Apparently this distress is showing on his face, because Warren leans in close and says, “Is something wrong?”

Leo hesitates, trying to decide how much to reveal. “I’m in love with her and I can’t say anything, just show her as best I can and hope she gets the message,” he says, referring to Carter. “And it’s killing me,” he adds, sharing an inside joke with himself. He doesn’t want to worry Warren too much, so he doesn’t mention his illness. Leo is uncomfortable even sharing this much, so he tries to shift the attention away from himself. “What about you? All shiny like that, you’ve got to have someone back home.”

He wasn’t expecting much of a response, given how quiet Warren has been so far. Their face softens, smiling as they think of their special someone. “I do. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” Warren grows quiet as the three of them pass a few soldiers, glancing at them with a nervous laugh. Leo wishes they hadn’t stopped talking. It made it too easy for repressed thoughts of his own childhood love to flood back. “She’d probably be able to figure out what’s going on here a lot better than me.”

“Childhood sweethearts, huh?” Leo says, hardly listening to Warren. His mind is full of thoughts of Jules, his own sweetheart from long ago. This is far from where he’d thought this conversation would go. Asking about Warren’s love life had seemed like such an innocent question, not one that would bring up some of his worst memories. Desperately trying to stay on track, he asks, “What’s she like?”

“Oh, she’s lovely,” Warren responds immediately. “She’s clever and tough and talented... We don’t get to see each other as much as we used to before—“ Perhaps this line of questioning had been a mistake. Warren seemed to have their fair share of problems when it came to romance too. “Well, she got herself into some trouble and has been laying low for awhile, but we still talk as often as we can.” They sighed, smile wavering. “It’s unfortunate, but we make do. She does visit sometimes though.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Leo says, and he means it. He can tell Warren cares a lot about this woman. “I’m sorry you don’t get to see her anymore. There’s nothing worse than being separated from the ones you love.” He hopes Warren can tell that his sympathy is genuine, that he speaks from experience.

They look like they understand. “Thanks,” Warren says with a sigh, meeting Leo’s eyes. “And I hope for you things work out with Carter.”

They’re too kind, and Leo looks away. He’s not used to such kindness from strangers. Before he has the chance to think of a response, Sichoris leads them to a large building that looks like it holds offices. So they’ve reached their destination.

He shows them down an endless hallway lined with dozens of doors and knocks on one of them before letting himself in. Warren and Leo follow, and they are met with a man with short, black hair and pale gray eyes.

He also has angel wings, one black and one white. Leo blinks, not quite believing his eyes. And here he had been entertaining the idea that he wasn’t dreaming.

The winged man smiles at them and bows slightly. “My name is Tidis, and I am a humble servant of Ritania. You two must have been summoned here, correct?” Leo supposes this is what Sichoris meant when he said everything would be explained. Tidis sounds like he knows what’s going on and was willing to tell them everything.

“I can help you,” Tidis continues. “If you will just come with me and answer a few questions, I can heal any ailments you have and let you return to your normal lives.” He holds out his hand to shake. “Will you come with me?”

Leo doesn’t have to think twice. Even if this is a dream, the chance to heal any ailments is too good to pass up. If this Tidis has that capability, Leo would do whatever it took to make that happen.

He steps forward and shakes Tidis’s hand.

#my writing #Leo #dissidia writeblr #I had so much fun figuring out the dialogue for this #and then I did wait until the last minute to write bc I suck #long post

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lazy-safetastic-13 · 7 years

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OKAY! For the first time, Red sees Fell confronted to one of his biggest fears. So for once he will take care of his guard of a brother! Biggest fear can be something dramatic like something ridiculous, your choice! GOOD LUCK ON YOUR TEST SWEETHEART

I’m exhausted. Lol. 4:02 am. WWwwwwww.

I haven’t done much for this ship in a while. Giving it my share of love.

so much for a drabble tho. hueheuheue. :’D

Update: Same thing as before, for the mobile, I’ve been told the read more cut is so wonky. :( As this is a sfw, I’ll undo the cut.Tumblr, pls get to do that. I don’t have the problem, but so many others do. >:(Not Good For Me. I need these read more cuts to be functioning well. Pronto. D’:

Title: It’s Not A Silly Fear

Pairing: Fellbros

Words: 1, 560

Snap!

It came unbidden as his necksuddenly felt weirdly free and the air caressed his bones.

Sans looked disgruntled whenthe collar landed on the hard floors with a thud and sighed as he bent down topick it up. “Heh, the old thing must’ve decided it was time.” He said with afond smile on his features as he examined the damage.

The leather collar used to bea brilliant red, but now it was faded to a maroon; the wear and tear makingitself known as he could also see some scratches, cracks and indents on thematerial. It was such a shame that he couldn’t quite find anything on repairingleather to better take care of it, but living in the underground with ruleslike theirs didn’t grant such luxuries.

Still, it was a gift from hisbrother, and that in itself was a rarity on its own so maybe he could attemptto stitch it up or something.

Sans decided to see if therewas something in stores, or maybe even in the dumps that could help, and placedthe collar on the bed before he teleported. Papyrus wouldn’t be done his guardduties until later, so the short skeleton hoped he had enough time before hisbrother sees the thing and lectures him about it.

“Sans!” Papyrus had comehome, having finished his duties earlier than expected as the dog unitsactually did their jobs right, for once.

And knowing that Sans’ shifthad already ended, he called for his brother … and received no response.

Only serving to irritate thetall skeleton and making him towards his brother’s room with purpose.

He slammed the door open, ausual thing, and grimaced at the messy sight of his brother’s room, again ausual thing.

And his gaze traveled to thebed where he’d usual find Sans napping and what not, but instead, what he foundgot him freezing in place.

Papyrus’ soul felt heavy and his bodybegan to shake. Eye lights bore hard into leather material innocently sittingon top of the top before the tall skeleton seemed to have suddenly appearedbefore it; having unconsciously moved; trepidation setting in his bones andcausing him to feel cold despite being indoors and the clothes he wore.

Gloved hands carefully lifted thecollar, gently—as if it’d break if he tightened his hold on it. It was precious.

He could see the torn and how woredown it was. Logically, it would be easy to deduce that it only snapped andSans was fine, maybe even went to get something to fix it. But Papyrus’ mindcouldn’t help supplying irrational imaginations in his head.

Of images that made his body shakeeven more and tears began to slide down his cheeks. But Papyrus didn’t even noticeas his thoughts began to swirl into turmoil.

Sans smiled at him, blood trailing down hisjaw and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Paps.”

No no no no.

“I failed you.”

No Sans. You didn’t. Don’t believe that.

“I don’t have much time.”

No! You’ll be fine. I’ll think of something.I always do.

“But I want you to know that I love you,brother.”

No, stop. Please.

“And I’m proud of you.”

Please. Stop.

“Sorry, Paps. Sorry.” Sans faded away with Papyrusdesperately reaching out, only grasp at nothing for nothing was left in itswake.

And Papyrus fell to the ground as he grippedthe snow beneath him. Hopelessness. Despair. Loneliness. Regret.

His brother was no more. And it was all hisfault.

Stronger.

He should’ve been stronger. And now Sans was… his brother was.

Violent sobs racked his whole body and he didn’tcare if it could be heard.

The price was paid for his folly. It was allhis fault his brother was gone.

Sans ported back to his room inquite a happy mood that he actuallymanaged to find a sewing kit in the dumps. He was utterly caught by surprise;however, when he found his little brother sobbing on his floors whilstclutching the broken collar.

The short skeleton was immediatelyon alert as worry set in. He put the kit aside with his magic to be placed onthe bedside table as he himself lowered to his knees and went to slowly touchhis brother’s shoulder.

“H-Hey, Paps? Bro?” When eyelights met with his own, he smiled gently. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Sans let out a yelp as Papyrus’quick movement startled him and he found himself tightly embraced by strongarms. He could hear the mumbled murmurs as repetitive apologies and Sans becameeven more worried at how shaken his brother was. What happened when he wasgone? Was it when the latter was doing his rounds? Did a monster say something tohim? Was he let go as part of the royal guard? Or … Oh stars, did Undyne saythat Papyrus wasn’t cool anymore and didn’t want to be her friend?

The short skeleton rubbed Papyrus’back as he returned the embrace. “Hey, shhh, hey, it’s okay, Paps. Shhh, it’sgonna be okay.”

“I’m so sorry. So so—”

“Shhhh, none of that.”

“B-But—”

“Papyrus.” Sans couldn’t help butsigh at the whimper. “Why don’t we go on the bed, yeah? I wanna know whathappened, okay?”

It took several moments beforePapyrus moved, carrying Sans along with him who didn’t move nor said a word ofcomplaint about it as the tall skeleton sat on the bed and moved back so thathis back met the wall. Once they were more or less settled, Sans began his questions.

“Now, do you mind telling me whatthat was all about?” Sans proceeded to wipe Papyrus’ tears with the sleeves ofhis jacket as he faced his brother in the other’s hold on him.

With Papyrus having calmed, helooked down and away from his Sans’ gaze. “… You’ll laugh at how silly it is.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

Sans placed both hands on Papyrus’cheeks and lifted them up so that their eyes met head on. “Try me.”

“… I … I got scared when I sawthe collar broken.” The silence made Papyrus nervously continue. “I-I know thatlogically nothing bad happened to you since it was on your bed, so it meantthat you got home and s-stuff, b-but my mind,” Papyrus was tearing up again. “I-Icouldn’t help thinking that you were gone. T-That you d-died and—it’s all m-myfault for not being s-strong enough to protect you. I’m sorry, Sans. I, I—”

Sans let out a soft sigh before gently smilingas he wiped them away. “Your imaginations astounds me, bro. It’s not yourfault. You’re already strong—unparalleled to one.”

“Undyn—”

“Not even Undyne!” Sans felt victorious when Papyrus softly chuckled athis claim. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m too annoying to be killed soeasily. So sorry pal, but you’re stuck with me for a long damn time.”

Papyrus pulled his brother into atight hug, but this time, he was smiling. “… I wouldn’t have it any other way …Thank you, brother.”

“Anytime, Paps. Anytime.”

[Bonus]

It took a whole day or two beforeSans completed fixing up the collar. Papyrus had been more clingy in exchange fornot seeing the thing around Sans’ neck. So the tall skeleton had been more thanrelieved to see his brother put on collar.

The short skeleton pulled at it totest out the durability of his sewing ability, and found himself satisfied atthe result. Though, the heavy weight felt foreign from not wearing it for twodays. Well, at least his brother could stop looking at him as if he’d dust anymoment.

“There, practically good as new.”

Papyrus nodded and let out a deepbreath to collect himself before straightening to stand tall and proud. It wasas if he hadn’t been the clinging baby bones as he was in the past. “I’ll beleaving to do my rounds, and I expect you to be back before dinner Sans. Noneof that greasy food tonight.”

Considering the events thathappened, Sans relented and agreed to not go to Grillby’s.

“And I …” Papyrus shook his head.He’s already showed enough of his vulnerable side. “I expect you to also takebetter care of my gifts to you.”

“Geez, Paps. Don’t be an ass.” Thetall skeleton had the decency to be embarrassed and ashamed. But Sans get thathis brother was just trying to bring things back to normality, so he added, “Butspeaking of gifts, as much I like the collar, I think this one is really reaching itsend. Maybe it’d be time to get a new one.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Papyrusnodded. “All right, I’ll see if I’m able to find one, and of a better quality.”

Papyrus proceeded to head out, andjust before he was about to close the door, Sans called out, loud and clear, “Ilove you too! Take care!”

The short skeleton couldn’t helpbut laugh when he managed to see the reddening of cheekbones.

And more so when Papyrus shoutedback. “I’ll be back! Love you too!” before slamming the door shut.

Stars, they were certainly a weirdpair of brothers.

Sorry if it’s bad, Orz

I actually had quite a hard time with this. So I hope this was adequate. I tried my best. T^T)

I tried thinking of fears applicable, but found myself really bad at making a good story in my head. So yeah, sorry if I have failed you, my friend! I hope it was still a good read regardless. ;v;) Wwwwww.

#fellfic #fellbros #uf!sans #uf!papyrus

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