#i got it first try but it feels so SLUGGISH doing that challenge

[writinginatree]

Adaptability

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran/female!reader, Imogen Cardulo & Garrick Tavis & reader

Summary: After an injury sustained at Resson leaves you with a lasting impairment, your boyfriend Bodhi helps you as best as he can while you learn how to navigate the world under these new conditions.

Warnings: Spoiler for the start of Iron Flame, swearing, injury, implied panic attack, mentions of canon-typical violence and canon character death, reader is a marked one

A/N: Phew, this one took me pretty long to write... The stuff with reader's signet was a bit of a challenge, but I hope I managed to explain it in a way that makes sense? Idk, but all in all I'm surprisingly happy with how this turned out ^^

Part 2

Everything is black. You try to open your eyes, but they're already open. They feel sore, like when you've been looking in the sun for too long. Voices reach you through the haziness of your mind, overlapping so you can't make out the words. The voices stop, someone walks away, the sound of their footsteps unnaturally loud in your pounding head.

You try to sit up. The surface below you feels soft, like a bed, but that can't be right. You were in the middle of battle when— shit! The venin!

You sense movement beside you and reach for the alloy-hilted dagger that should be strapped to your thigh, but find nothing. Still sluggish from your involuntary nap and disoriented by the lingering darkness, you feel around for your other daggers. The one at your hip is right where it belongs, and you instantly feel better when your fingers wrap around the hilt. It won't kill the venin, but it's better than nothing. You probably dropped the alloy one when you passed out. It has to be close by. You'll just—

A hand is placed on top of yours before you can fully draw your weapon, and you flinch.

"It's okay," someone says. "The battle is over, you're safe."

"Bodhi? Is that you?" You know it's him from his voice, but the darkness irritates you. You look in the direction he seems to be in and try to find his face in the darkness. Nothing. Why the fuck is it so dark? For a moment you think that maybe Xaden encased the area in shadow, but if the battle is over, that doesn't make much sense. "What's going on?"

There's movement again, then you feel Bodhi sit down closer to you, his hip touching yours. He takes both your hands in his and places a kiss first on one, then the other.

"You got injured and passed out," he explains, as if you can't figure that much out yourself. You remember the venin in front of you, a blinding explosion before unconsciousness came over you.

"I feel fine. Besides a bit of a headache. But why is it so dark?"

Only silence. If he weren't still holding your hands, you might have thought he left.

"Bodhi?"

"It's not dark, love. The sun from the window is shining right at you."

Window? Okay, so you definitely aren't in Resson anymore. And now that he says it, you become aware of the warm feeling of sunlight on your skin. But— "What are you talking about?! It's pitch black in here. Wherever here is. I can't see shit!"

"Here is my room. At Aretia." You want to ask what the fuck you're doing in Aretia, but he already continues, "And you can't see because—" He swallows hard. "Because your eyes are— they're hurt pretty bad. Brennan mended what he could, but..."

Cold dread creeps into you. You shake your head and try to pull your hands from Bodhi's to feel for your eyes, but he holds on tight.

"But?" you urge him to finish his sentence. You're not sure you actually want to hear it, but you need to.

"But he can't restore your vision," Bodhi says quietly. "I didn't understand everything he said, but that's what it comes down to. You will never see again."

No. It can't be. It can't be.

"I'm so sorry, darling."

You shake your head, trying to deny that this is happening. There's no way. It has to be a nightmare. Some sick joke. A trick the venin are playing on you. Maybe you're still in the midst of battle and none of this is actually real. But no matter how many times you close your eyes and open them again, the darkness just won't yield.

"Shh, don't panic," Bodhi pleads. "Please don't panic."

"You're telling me I'm blind and I'm not supposed to panic?!" You cringe at the way you sound — like a hysterical little girl. As a rider, you should have more composure than that. You know Bodhi is right, freaking out won't make it better. But knowing that does nothing to help you stay calm. This can't be happening, that's all you can think.

Suddenly your dragon's voice fills your head, her relief palpable. "You're awake."

"I can't see!"

"I know," Fonn soothes. "I know. But you will adapt."

You shake your head, biting back a sob as you block her out. You can't deal with her endless fucking optimism right now.

"I'm sorry," Bodhi says, and pulls you into his arms. There is nothing he can say to make this better, and he seems to know it, because he doesn't say any more.

For a few minutes he just holds you in silence, rocking back and forth with you in an effort to soothe you. You're aware you're starting to hyperventilate as the panic rises the more the truth sets in, but you can't seem to stop the sobbing, no matter how hard you try. Blind. You're fucking blind. Who has ever heard of a blind rider? You're fucking dead. Fresh meat for your enemies, defenseless because you can't see them.

"You will learn how to fight without seeing them," Fonn insists, ripping through your mental shields as though they're paper. You really need to get better at keeping them up even under extreme stress. You block her again, putting more effort into it this time. Hearing that you should look at the positive side, how lucky you are to still be alive at all, is the last thing you need right now, and knowing Fonn, that's exactly how she views the situation.

"Shh, baby, breathe" Bodhi soothes. "Come on, deep breaths, nice and slow."

You try, but still all you manage are shallow sobs that barely get any air into your lungs. Bodhi holds you tighter, trying to comfort you with his presence, cradling your head against the junction of his neck. Burying your face against his skin makes you feel a little better. That way, you can pretend the reason you can't see is only that your eyes are squeezed shut. There's just one problem — pressing your face against him like that makes it even harder to breathe properly.

You can't tell how much time passes, but eventually, your tears slow to a trickle, and finally stop altogether. Bodhi cups your cheek and makes you lift your head a little — to look at you, you assume. Fresh despair washes over you at the realization that you will never get to look at him again, but no more tears will come. You've cried yourself dry.

The feeling of his lips on yours startles you, but it only takes you a second to gather yourself and eagerly kiss back.

"You'll be okay," he mutters against your lips. "I'm here for you."

You decide to ignore the first part of what he said — the part you don't have it in you to believe — and focus on the second half. He's here for you. Yes. And you're eternally grateful for that. You don't know what you'd do without him.

"Everything will be alright," he repeats.

You've let your mental shields down again, and Fonn senses your doubt. "He's right," she says. "Out of all the riders I've had, you're the strongest, smartest and bravest. And you know I've had a bunch of them over the years. This will make things hard for a while, but you'll be okay. I'm sure of it."

"If you say so," you reply, both out loud to Bodhi, and through your mental connection to Fonn. Sitting up straighter, you only now notice that Bodhi has only been holding you with one arm, the other squeezed in between your bodies. Feeling for it, you realize it's in a sling. "You're hurt too."

"Just a broken arm and a few scratches," Bodhi assures you. "No big deal."

Compared to your own injury, you suppose it really isn't. A broken arm is hardly more than an annoyance, painful but temporary. Unlike your eyes, it will be healed soon.

You take a deep breath and try to focus on something else. It's surprisingly easy when you realize you don't know where the rest of your friends are. Gods, you hope nothing happened to any of them.

"What about the others? Is everyone okay?"

Bodhi winces. "Soleil and Liam didn't make it." Two. Two of your friends are dead. Had that happened after you got injured, or had you simply missed it in the chaos of battle? "Violet is hurt, too."

"How bad?"

"A venin stabbed her with a poisoned dagger. Brennan mended her, but she's still unconscious."

"Will she be okay?"

You send a silent prayer to Zihnal that she will — and not just because her life is tied to that of Xaden, who is one of your closest friends. You like Violet. To say you and her are friends would be an exaggeration, but you could be — almost certainly would, if things weren't so complicated. Maybe you actually will become friends, now that the truth is out. If she survives.

"We're not sure. But Brennan seems to think so."

"Good. That's good."

Questions about your comrades thus answered, your thoughts return to your own condition. Is there really nothing that can be done? And if there isn't, then what now?

"Your signet might help you get by," Fonn suggests. She seems to have thought it through already in the hours you were unconscious. "You know how your sound waves reflect off of the objects around you? With a bit of practice I'm sure you can use that to get a mental picture of your surroundings."

You hate having to destroy her hopes in the idea — she seems so proud. But it won't work. "The sound would have to be so loud it would turn everyone around me deaf to get a clear picture."

"Not necessarily. You could use a sound frequency humans can't hear, the way bats do."

"I don't know, Fonn. I have no idea how that works. I don't even know if I can produce ultrasound waves."

"I don't see why not. They're sound waves like any other. There's no reason you should only be able to produce those your human ears can hear. It's worth a try, at least."

You suppose she's right, even if the mere thought exhausts you. A hopelessness is settling in your chest the more you start to accept that your eyesight is truly irredeemable. But you're a rider, and riders don't give up. Even if you wanted to, Fonn wouldn't let you, nor Bodhi.

"Are you hungry?" he asks now.

You nod.

"I'll get you something to eat. Wait here, I'll be right back."

"Bodhi, wait!" If he leaves you alone like this, unable to see, in a place you're unfamiliar with, clueless how long it will take him to walk to the kitchen and back, you'll go mad. You can't stand the thought of being alone in this foreign, permanent darkness. "Let me come."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay in bed and rest a bit longer?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, Bodhi. Well... as fine as one can be after finding out they've turned blind. I don't want to be alone."

Bodhi takes your hand and pulls you to your feet. "Alright. Come on then."

He leads you through what feels like an endless labyrinth of wide, echoing halls and stairways, walking slowly and giving you plenty of warning whenever you get to another flight of stairs or doorway so you don't stumble or walk into anything. It's nerve-wracking to not know where exactly you are, to have to completely rely on another person's guidance. No idea what's around you, if there's anyone else in the room. You thank the gods you have Bodhi by your side. There's no one else in the world you trust as much as you trust him, no one else you would feel safe to blindly follow — literally.

He opens a door, and even before he says, "Here we are", you know from the smell of fresh bread hanging in the air that the room he's leading you into has to be the kitchen. Judging from the sounds, someone is working on one side of the room, but they don't pay any attention to you as far as you can tell. Bodhi gently pushes you into a chair, instructing you to stay there. Your anxiety rises as he walks away, but you reassure yourself with the fact that he's still in the same room. You hear him rummage around just a few feet away, and a minute later he's back by your side and places a plate in your hands.

You want to be close to him, have the reassurance of his touch to prove you're not alone even if you can't see him, so you sit in Bodhi's lap as you eat, his arm around your waist so you know he's there even when he's silent. It's not until you start to eat that you realize just how hungry you really were, and you quickly finish your plate.

When you're done, Bodhi turns your head back toward him and kisses away a crumb from your lips.

Leaning back, you trace your fingers over the scars that now surround your eyes, try to imagine what they look like. Most riders love comparing their scars, competing for whose are the coolest, and you're no exception. "Does it at least look badass?" you want to know from Bodhi. Surely a cool look to make up for the loss of your eyesight isn't too much to ask for, is it?

"Very," Bodhi assures you, nuzzling his face against the side of your neck.

"Well, I guess that's okay then," you decide with a sigh. You will wear the scars with pride, like a badge that tells everyone you've survived a fight against the venin.

"Don't worry," Bodhi says, and you can hear the grin in his voice, "I promise you're still the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You elbow him, smiling despite yourself. "Shut up."

"Never. Now that you can't see how pretty you are anymore, I'll just have to remind you of it even more often."

The door opens, and two sets of footsteps approach.

"Y/N! You're up!"

You turn your head in the direction of the voice, which you're pretty sure is Imogen's. She and whoever is with her come closer. One of the two has a heavier footfall than the other, so you assume it's one of the guys. Garrick, maybe? It can't be Xaden, because according to Bodhi, his cousin refuses to leave Violet's side for even a second, and the other guys aren't that much bigger than Imogen, so their footsteps wouldn't sound so stomp-y compared to hers.

"Barely conscious again and you two are already all over each other again," someone chuckles, and yep, that's Garrick, all right. No one else teases Bodhi and you as relentlessly as he does.

"I'm just helping her," Bodhi says defensively. He told you on the walk to the kitchen that the others are aware you've lost your vision, which is a relief. Having to tell them yourself, to witness their shock and pity, would have made this even harder to bear.

"Of course," Garrick snorts, but then gets more serious. "How are you coping, Y/N?"

You force a smile. "I'm fine. Still a bit... well... shocked, I guess. But I'll get used to it." You'll have to.

"Tell us if there's anything we can do to help, yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah. Thanks."

Despite how compassionate and helpful everyone is being, you spend most of your time hiding away in Bodhi's room. You've been to Riorson House only twice before and would have felt lost in the unfamiliar fortress either way, but being blind on top of that, you don't feel safe roaming the vast fortress on your own, and therefore refuse to leave the room without Bodhi. Fonn can keep telling you that you will adapt all she wants; until you figure out how to use your signet for echolocation — if that's really possible at all — you're not taking a single step past this room without Bodhi.

Inside his room, you're comfortable enough to walk around without his guidance. He walked the perimeter of the room with you a few times after your little trip to the kitchen, and you quickly memorized the layout. Four steps from the bed to the bathing chamber, five from the bed to the door leading into the hallway. The window is one small step to the right of his desk, the chair of which is pushed in so you can't fall over it. Bodhi ensures every item lying around on the surfaces in his room or the bathing chamber has its place to make it easier for you to find anything.

The first time you try to use your signet to navigate around, you're standing in the foyer with everyone after dinner on your first day at Aretia. The mood is low, the loss of Liam and Soleil weighing down on you all, not to mention the worry about Violet. None of you really know what to do with themselves. Everyone agreed to wait a little longer before burying Liam and Solei and burning their things in the hopes that Violet will wake up first so she and Xaden can be there too, and it's much too early to go to bed, so you all stand in the hall, talking. You're a little off to the side, not much interested in the conversation. The others are talking about what they can do now that you're at Aretia, if they can help somehow while you're here, wondering how long you'll have to stay. You too wonder when — if — you'll return to Basgiath. There's no use worrying about it, though. Until Violet wakes up, none of you are going anywhere. And the others might be able to make themselves useful here, but blind as you are, there's not much you can do, except try to find a way to navigate the world without help.

Step one of achieving that is finding out if Fonn was right about the possibility of using your signet for echolocation. You take a few more steps away from the group, one hand on the wall so you don't lose track of where you are. Might as well test Fonn's theory here and now.

You reach for your power and prepare. It has to be a frequency far above what humans can hear, much higher pitched than any sound you've ever produced before. Careful to put less force behind the sound waves than you do when you use them in a fight, you release them — and immediately realize you fucked it up, the echo useless as the crash of shattering glass distorts it. Bodhi's hand closes around your arm as he takes a few quick steps to the side with you, pulling you out of the shower of glass shards. There must have been a window right next to where you'd been standing.

"Sorry. I was trying to use my signet as echolocation, but, uh. Well."

"Not the best attempt," Garrick remarks as Bodhi plucks glass shards from your hair.

"No."

"Do us all a favor and go outside if you're going to try that again, would you?"

You can't identify the speaker, but nod all the same. "Yeah. Sorry."

You really should have known better than to try it in here — when you'd been a first-year, you had shattered many a window before you learned how to properly control your signet, so you know very well how destructive it can be. But the temptation to try and use it to navigate through this labyrinth of a house was just too big. Well — at least you didn't destroy anyone's eardrums.

Bodhi takes your hand and leads you around the glass shards and outside.

"Was that window very big?" you ask once you're in the courtyard, guilt nagging at you.

"No, don't worry about it. How about we walk up to the valley?" he suggests. "I bet Fonn would be happy to see you, and you can try the echolocation on the way up without destroying anything."

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

The uneven terrain out here is harder to navigate than the halls of Riorson House, but Bodhi is there to catch you should you stumble, so you aren't too worried. At a safe distance from the fortress, you reach for your power again, making sure to aim the sound waves away from Bodhi so you don't accidentally hurt him.

This time, you use a lower frequency, but still above the spectrum of what humans can hear. You feel the sound waves travel through the air, until, somewhere to your right, they reflect off of something, returning to you as an unhearable echo.

So far so good.

But how do you make sense of what the echos tell you? The only thing you're sure of is that whatever it was that your sound waves bounced off of is pretty big. Other than that, it could be just about anything. A boulder? A house? The mountainside? A dragon, maybe? No. You can't tell how far away exactly the object is, but it seems pretty close. Bodhi would have warned you if you were that close to someone else's dragon, and Fonn is quite a way further up the mountain.

"What's to the right of us?" you ask Bodhi.

"Some boulders and undergrowth," he answers.

Okay, so your first guess was pretty close. But guessing isn't going to be good enough. If this echolocation is supposed to be any use, you need to find a way to make it more precise.

"But it is working," Fonn's smug voice sounds in your head.

"Yeah, yeah. You were right. As usual."

"Try again."

You do, this time aiming the ultrasound waves at the ground before you. The echo gives you a vague impression that the path slopes upward relatively steep a little further ahead, but that's it. The picture you can create in your mind based on the data your sound waves give you isn't nearly detailed enough to make out bumps in the ground or other obstacles, and therefore pretty much useless.

"Don't be so pessimistic," Fonn scolds. "You can't expect to be perfect at this on the first attempt. You will figure it out. Now try again."

Again and again you send out sound waves as you climb the path. It gets easier to make sense of the echos the more you do it, your senses attuning to the new way of receiving information, but the problem remains; you just can't get enough details for it to be truly helpful.

You've reached the valley now, and you can feel Fonn close by. Tapping into the power flowing between you, you send another echolocation call in her direction, and find that there are two big shapes looming in front of you. It's not hard to guess who Fonn's companion is; she and Cuir have grown pretty close with how much time they spend together thanks to you and Bodhi. You do it again, trying to memorize how the echo reflecting off a dragon feels. Fonn lowers her head toward you, and you marvel at how much the echo changes at the movement. With enough practice, you could probably detect even the smallest of movements. But determinating the precise distance between you and the dragons — between you and anything — seems to be a lot more tricky. Maybe you can learn to judge it by the time delay between the moment you emit your call, and the moment the echo returns. Or maybe you just haven't found the right sound frequency yet. You sigh, knowing you'll have no other choice but to simply keep trying until you figure it out.

Warm air hits you as Fonn invades your space, and you lean your forehead against her snout. With a pang of sadness you realize you will never get to look at her again, to admire the beautiful shimmer of her green scales in the sunlight or watch her wings flex. Part of you still doesn't want to accept that you will never see again. It feels wrong that there's absolutely nothing to be done about it. But if even mending didn't work, then nothing will; the logical part of you understands that.

"This sucks."

"Yes."

"What, no 'look at the bright side' or 'it could be worse'?"

Fonn huffs. "I may be optimistic, but that doesn't mean I'll pretend everything is fine. Your feelings are perfectly valid."

After three days at Aretia, Violet finally wakes up, much to everyone's relief. It's no surprise when she agrees to fight with the revolution, so now the only question is what the nine of you that remain of the squad that flew for Athebyne will do now. With Violet awake, Xaden is taking responsibility again, which in this moment means he's arguing with the Assembly about whether or not your group should return to Basgiath, while Bodhi, Imogen and you are eavesdropping in the doorway.

Ironically it's you who's keeping lookout with the help of your signet, and really, you detect someone approaching even before their footsteps are audible. You're not skilled enough to get any details yet, though, so you poke Imogen's arm and gesture in the direction of whoever it is.

"It's Violet," she whispers, and waves her over.

Violet's shoulder brushes yours as she comes to stand between you and Imogen, who gives her a quick explanation about the Assembly.

"They're talking about us," Violet realizes after a while.

You nod. "That's why we're listening from the hallway."

"My life is equal to any of theirs," Xaden says inside the meeting room, and you hear rustling of clothes like people have turned to look somewhere.

"Is he pointing at us? He is, isn't he?"

"Yes," Bodhi whispers back as the Assembly starts to panic about Violet having heard their conversation. Louder he says, "If you didn't want her to hear you should have closed the door."

"She cannot be trusted!" one of the Assembly members yells.

"Xaden has already taken responsibility for her," you counter, gripping Bodhi's hand so he can guide you as you all step into the room. That doesn't seem to matter much to the Assembly, though, because the yelling continues back and forth until Violet has had enough of it and speaks up for herself.

Xaden has the last word, of course, telling the Assembly it's not up to them whether you all return to Basgiath and declaring the discussion as done. The four of you file out of the room and make your way up to the valley, where you wait for Violet, who stays back to talk to her brother.

It isn't very long until they show up, and the group gathers near her dragons.

"We have to go back," Violet says, which is exactly what you think too. "No matter what the Assembly says, if we don't go back, they'll kill every cadet with a rebellion relic."

Her brother disagrees, saying you'll all be executed if you go back, and a new argument ensues.

"I vote we go," Garrick says eventually. "We have to risk it. They'll kill the others if we don't return, and we can't cut off the flow of weapons from Basgiath. Who agrees?"

You raise your hand, and feel Bodhi do the same next to you.

While Brennan and Xaden continue to argue about Violet being unable to shut Aetos out, Ciaran says, "Y/N should stay here."

You whirl around and glare at him. Putting together the direction his voice came from with what you perceive through your signet, you can pinpoint his location exactly enough to do so. "No."

"You can't see—"

"Well aware."

"—so you can't fly back with us."

"I don't need to see to ride. Fonn sees enough for the both of us."

It's uncomfortably silent for a moment, but then Garrick carefully asks, "And how do you want to mount her when you can't see her?"

"Like this," you say, and walk straight toward her, following the bond between you.

Using your signet to orientate yourself, you easily find her foreleg. You're still working out how to fine-tune your echolocation to get a more detailed picture, but even as it is, something the size of a dragon is hard to miss. Climbing up her leg is the easiest part — you've done it so many times you could do it in your sleep, blind or not. Reaching her shoulder, you hear the others murmuring among themselves below you, worried you'll stumble or slide off on the way to your seat. But Fonn stands still as a statue, and you get there without trouble.

"See?" you call down to your friends. "Easy. And it's not like I have to do anything other than keep my seat once we're in the air."

"Okay, but can you dismount without falling on your ass?"

You sigh at the lack of faith they all have in you. You've been a rider for the last two years — by now, everything is muscle memory. Jumping from Fonn's shoulder and landing on your feet is as easy as rising from a chair, especially since she would have warned you if there were any obstacles on the ground you needed to avoid.

"Okay, fine. So you can ride, but what are you going to do when we're back at Basgiath?" Eya questions. "Provided they don't kill us, how do you want to take notes in class? And what about challenges? I know you're a good fighter, but if you can't see your opponent..."

"I'll figure it out somehow. The echolocation will help. I still need some practice until I can fully rely on it, but I'll manage." You refuse to stay behind and hide here while the others risk their lives by returning to Basgiath. Wounded or not, it's your right and duty to do the same.

"And I'll help her," Bodhi chimes in. He steps closer, taking your hand. "She can do it."

"If everyone is sure about going, we'll fly as soon as Andarna's awake," Xaden says, putting an end to the discussion.

"We're sure," Garrick answers for all of you.

There's a rustling somewhere off to the side, and Violet talks to her dragon. The smaller one — which isn't quite so small anymore from what you heard — must have woken up. Then more rustling, followed by a sort of stomping sound. You sense movement with your signet, but can't figure out what it is.

"What's going on?"

"The young one is awake," Fonn explains.

"And?"

"And she's... clumsy."

"I... uh... think we're going to have to make some modifications on that harness," Bodhi says beside you. "That's going to take a few hours."

"Get the harness done quickly," Xaden says. "I have a plan, but we have to be back in forty-eight hours for this to work, and a day of that is needed for flight time."

"What's in forty-eight hours?" Violet asks.

"Graduation."

[football-and-fanfics]

The Medic #4 - Trent Alexander-Arnold

About the series: The Medic will be an anthology-like series about the reader working for the medical team of the club. Each chapter will feature a different setting/scenario and a different player.

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold Prompt: becoming overheated during a match on a hot day. Requested by: as voted for by you. Warnings: slight mentions of medical procedures, mentions of fainting.

With temperatures easily reaching the 30°C, it was always a challenge for you and the rest of the medical team to get everyone through a match or training all in one piece.

Everyone agreed that today's match should have been postponed due to the heat, but with the FA refusing to do so, the team was left no choice other than to step out onto that pitch in the searing heat.

All during the match you kept a very watchful eye on every single player on the pitch, looking for signs of heat stress and making sure they all drank plenty of water to keep hydrated.

Still, despite all your caution and good care, your eye caught something worrying around the 70th minute. Trent suddenly looked sluggish, unsteady on his feet. His hand sometimes went up to his eyes, and you could tell even from a distance that he was experiencing dizziness.

You were just about to advice Klopp to take Trent off, when Trent already stumbled towards you. He dragged his feet, even more unsteady on his legs, and only half aware of his surroundings.

"I-- I don't... feel so good." Trent tripped over his own words. He just managed to step over the touchline and off the pitch, before he collapsed and went crashing to the floor.

"Shit!" You hurried over to him and dropped yourself to your knees beside him. Trent lay on his side, back to the pitch, and completely unresponsive. His heaving breaths were clearly visible, and you pressed your fingers against the pulse point of his limp wrist to feel a racing heartbeat. You had no doubts Trent had become overheated, so you knew your first priority would be to cool him down.

"Get ice bags!" You ordered one of your colleagues who had also rushed to Trent's aid. You reached for the nearest water bottle and emptied its contents over Trent's side to at least give him some cooling already. From a second bottle you gently poured cold water onto Trent's neck. He stirred slightly when the cold water splashed onto his skin and he groaned softly.

"Trent?" You gently squeezed his bicep to let him know you were there with him. "Can you hear me?" Trent groaned again in reply, and slowly his eyes fluttered open. "What happened?" He mumbled weakly. "I guess that heat got a little too much," you smiled softly, trying to reassure him, "just take it easy for a little bit, you'll be fine." Trent rearranged his body somewhat, before giving you a weak hum in reply.

You were relieved to already see Trent responsive again, but he surely was in need of more treatment. He wasn't very lucid yet, and looked like he could faint at any moment again. You splashed some more cold water onto Trent's neck, back and hair, anything to get him to cool off.

At that moment your colleague returned carrying an armful of ice bags. You immediately placed two of them against Trent's legs, another two against his back and one under his armpit. The smallest of the ice bags you gently held against his neck.

"Just take it easy," you spoke softly by means of comfort, "you'll be alright in a few minutes, we just need to get you cooled down a little." Trent nodded feebly. He had closed his eyes again, but you knew he was still conscious.

You sat with him like that for several minutes. His breathing had already become noticeably easier, and his heart rate, which you checked regularly, also calmed down significantly.

"How're you feeling?" You asked after a few more minutes. Trent stirred minutely against the ice pack you still had loosely pressed against his neck. "Better," he mumbled. "Do you want to try sitting up?" You suggested, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Trent took a slow, deep breath, but finally nodded. "Yeah."

You kept a close eye on him as Trent slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. The frown in discomfort, the almost unnoticeable tremor in his muscles and the still clammy look of his skin, nothing went unnoticed by you. You hovered your hand behind his back in case he would go back down after all again, but you were glad to see Trent sit up quite steadily eventually.

"Good?" You asked, as you handed him a bottle of cold water. Trent passed a hand over his face and gratefully took a sip of the water. "Bit shaky, but I think I'm good." "I'd like to move you inside and out of this heat completely," you continued. "I can do that," Trent nodded. He held out his arms, signaling that he might need some help getting to his feet.

You pulled Trent to his feet. He stood swaying a little at first, but within seconds looked comfortable on his feet. "We'll just take it slow," you guided, "and if you feel like anything is wrong, even the slightest thing, we'll stop, okay?"

Trent nodded to show he understood. "Thank you for being with me just now." You smiled softly. "You're welcome, but that's my job." "I know." Trent shrugged as you slowly made the walk back inside. "But you could have handled this with a lot less compassion. You really helped me stay calm and feel safe."

You went slightly red in the face at his compliment. "Uh... thank you," you stammered, maybe for the first time ever being lost for words. Not only was this a bit show of gratitude for your work, it also showed you that Trent was definitely starting to feel better. And Trent being okay, was the only thing that really mattered to you.

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @ella33, @nightlockcornucopia, @hbstre

General masterlist | TAA masterlist

[sunder-the-gold]

Yeah, Dark Souls isn’t for me.

I cannot reliably kick. I have never executed a jumping attack. I practiced over and over by the instruction sign, and never got it. I’ve kicked more often by accident than intent.

There was no instruction for backstep-attacking. I did that once by accident, but practice has yielded no results.

Can’t figure out parry timing any easier in this game than Breath of the Wild.

Enemy undead practically teleport around corners and up staircases with their jumping attacks. Don’t even see them coming.

Enemy firebombs will splash right through walls and roofs of apparently solid stone bricks to hurt you. Leaving alone how the enemies know exactly where I am without being able to see which room I ran into.

I’ve rarely fallen to my death, despite all of the OSHA violations, but the risk of falling to death is constantly on my mind as I struggle to ensure I’m facing vaguely enough in the direction of at least one enemy, at the right distance, to hit them, while frequently underestimating how far and wide their own attacks can reach. Target-locking seems to hurt more than help.

Controlling the character doesn’t just feel sluggish and slow, it feels slippery and sticky. Like I’m drunk and wading through tar. And I haven’t even seen my first poison swamp!

I’ve heard about rolling invincibility frames for ten years, yet one axe-chop got me in the middle of a roll and took out half my health.

My muscle memory sometimes still has me chugging Estus instead of attacking. And that’s when I remembered to close the tiny Equipment/Status menu at the top, so that I don’t stand in front of enemies eating hits before I realize none of my buttons are working.

The game developers had the entire range of colors within the human visual spectrum, but decided that the firebombs enemies hold should be practically invisible rather than some sort of bright, distinguishing color.

I now understand why that one Elden Ring character considered three rats (with or without a fourth rat hidden in boxes) more dangerous than anything else in the game.

Trying to kite individual enemies, or even just two enemies, away from all of the other enemies, makes the game sinfully slow even if I’m trying NOT to turtle behind my shield or do anything but face-tank and trade blows.

That’s not even including all of the enemies I’m fighting over and over again just to try practicing, let alone farming for souls. Lots of kiting, lots of turtling, lots of backtracking around drops to immediate death with slippery, clumsy controls.

I saw that firebomb barrel at the top of the stairs. I knew it was coming. I couldn’t bait the enemy to push it until I was too far up the stairs to run back down to safety, AND the bomb shoved me off the stairs and onto a tiny cliff I couldn’t escape from. I had no choice but to drop to my death, knowing I would never be able to retrieve my souls without getting stuck again. Like what happened when I grabbed that one-use death ring from the earlier bridge.

I thought people complaining about the archers on the tower with the Taurus Demon were whining. But when I played the game for myself, even when I immediately recognized the Taurus Demon’s bridge, that spoiler was the ONLY thing telling me to turn around and climb up the ladder. The ladder is nearly invisible even when you’re looking for it, and it’s further hidden by how narrow a part of the wall it occupies.

And this shit is right after the bullshit with the fire barrel.

And that’s assuming you didn’t try challenging the tarnished silver knight of Gwyn. (Fucker had his back turned and I still couldn’t land a sneak attack.)

Oh, and the Taurus Demon can jump up on to the top of the tower with you. Because of course he can. Just like the Asylum Demon, if you don’t execute the dropping attack immediately, you lose that chance. (In fairness, the Taurus Demon’s first act is showing he can jump like that.)

I’d have accepted getting smashed to the ground twice by the Taurus Demon, but the second time I failed to get back to my feet and have the opportunity to roll away to safety before he smashed me down again and killed me…

It’s great that people with depression have gotten a sense of accomplishment from beating their faces against this wall, but I frankly have less frustrating ways of accomplishing meaningful and entertaining things with my time. All this is doing is boring me when it isn’t raising my blood pressure.

[thedarkmistress16]

Hetalia x Fem!Pronouns!Reader- (Literally) Dropped Into Anime

Found the last APH thing I wrote about (years ago) and since I threw myself full-force back into the fandom again, I expanded this overdone concept for fun. And I was so happy with the writing style that I made myself write up to (at least) 5k words before posting this chap as a neat lil' personal challenge. Otherwise, I would've had this up a few days ago because holy shit I originally completed this part in two days??!?!!!?

Anyway, fem!pros here because that's how I roll with male characters x reader things, so substitute away~! Reader's life is kept vague on purpose but that may change in the future, and nothing about personal appearance is mentioned here. And reader swears because reader is an adult and is tired.

Chapter 1- Okay, So, I’m Here Now…

You were at home, content that you had a few days off to your name and a stomach filled with a delicious breakfast. Today, you would put yourself up to the task of completing work you had put off for quite a while. No social calls allowed! You had that luxury last week. This time, it was going to be all about what you will accomplish for the next few days. You happily rolled up your sleeves- figuratively, of course, it was summer after all- and got to work.

You got around to completing half of the first job’s workload until you suddenly felt an extreme bout of tiredness hit you.

You tried to fight it off, desiring to get back to what you were initially doing, determined to actually follow through on your own promise to yourself this time. You were an adult after all, with loads of different responsibilities that were all waiting to be finished when you clocked out each day. It was just depressing how many things you had to take care of now, compared to when you were a carefree adolescent who, ironically, only had to worry about growing up.

The supplies you were just using with ease completely fell out of your hands as your shoulders slumped. You started to walk out of the room to find an energy supplement.

Sometimes you wondered how you even had a lick of time for yourself anymore.

A weak groan escaped your lips, and your hand rose to your forehead to massage the irritating thumping that began blossoming there. Okay, maybe you needed to pop some aspirin, too.

Life really sucked sometimes.

Did you overwork yourself again?

Your pace slowed to a sluggish shuffle.

Did you remember to stock your groceries this week?

Fuck the drink, you were way too tired now for it to even take effect. Your feet pivoted in another direction, feeling yourself start to surrender to your own body’s wills.

Still, who were you to complain?

How were you so careless to do this to yourself again?

You struggled to keep your balance as you reached the doorway of your bedroom. You don’t remember being so tired you could barely walk.

You had a job, buddies, a family, your own place… you were doing good for yourself! 

You should’ve just gone out with your friends or treated yourself today. Why did you have to go and spoil it with work? Now you can’t even function properly and the whole day will be skewed now.

Your eyes caught the proximity of your bed and they immediately drooped, almost closing completely on you and your head bobbed dangerously.

Others had it worse than you… probably…

You really suck at taking care of yourself, huh?

And despite your best efforts to fight off the looming cloud of exhaustion that was trying to overtake you, flopping onto your bed and crashing into a dreamless state of mind became entirely inevitable. You vaguely feel yourself free-falling through your mattress before losing consciousness completely.

When you were on the verge of waking up, you heard muffled voices buzzing over your head, all a jumbled mess and becoming way too damn noisy as the seconds ticked by. You cringed at the uptick in loudness and made a sound between a moan and groan in a displeased protest. Your body reflexively turned away from the disturbance to your sleep, rolling over to turn your back to that side. Only you felt hardness on your body where you suddenly remembered that’s where your soft bed was supposed to be. You sat up with your eyes still closed, mumbling to yourself at how you probably fell off the bed again, silly, and thought it none the wiser. And you yawned yourself awake- stretching your arms upward as the sound moved past your throat and dropping them when you felt content.

It took a second for you to open your eyes and really see what you were actually looking at, but when you did, you froze in place. You cautiously moved your head around in different directions to find that all of the characters of a certain anime you once watched were staring right at you in utter silence- and you realized that you were in the conference room of the United Nations, sitting smack-dab on their table in the middle of their meeting.

While everyone was shocked into silence as you finally woke, a sole clearing of a throat could be heard down on your right. You all turned to see the character known as Germany straightening himself, shifting his posture in the chair he sat in. In doing so he gave away how uncomfortable he clearly felt, and turned to you. His eyes, while ice cold in color, held no hatred or disdain- but rather a strong curiosity, from what you could detect.

“I’m sure everyone’s wondering this, but, who are you?”

You never liked this question exactly; not whoever said it, particularly, but you never really knew how to answer it. How much information are you supposed to give? What were they looking to hear?

Never mind that this was the English dub of Hetalia you were currently in, apparently- how were you going to describe yourself to these people when you were still trying to figure it all out for yourself? Not to mention getting around to explaining how you even got here?

You didn’t notice that throughout your thinking session, you had been staring blankly at the German and letting out a very unattractive “uhhhhhhhhhh…” for god knows how long.

Someone’s fingers snapped in front of your face while a voice shouted at you irritably. “Hey- you! Ragazza! Speak, dammnit!”

“Uh?!” The sudden outburst from the brunette shattered your thoughts so badly that you yelped and fell back onto the table. You blinked wildly as your heart pumped harder from the adrenaline, feeling more shocked and startled than before. Your eyes struggled to refocus from the blind-sighting motion.

If you weren’t awake before, you definitely were now.

“Were you even paying attention?!” the same voice chided.

Really?!

Oh, like he wouldn’t be just as dumbstruck as you if he was in your shoes.

You had half a mind to-

Before you could muster a response that your brain was itching to let you unleash, another similar, accented male voice piped up. “Ah, fratello! Be nice to her! The poor bella doesn’t know where she is!”

You were still breathing heavily as you were slowly pulled up from laying down on the table, now with your legs loosely tucked beneath you as you shuffled with the movement. You now found yourself leaning toward one side as your shoulders were embraced by a certain Italian who smelled like an assortment of spices, but mainly oregano. You were too ashamed at your earlier display to even entertain a look- even if you had only watched one episode of the series in your life, you knew who he was.

 “Wow, you’re really pretty! I’ll call you bella!” He squished you even tighter and you flailed on instinct as your balance had faltered when he pulled you closer. You weren’t sure if you wanted to melt into a puddle due to your own embarrassment or from his expressive adorableness. And while you weren’t stellar at the implications of him considering you as a pet, you really couldn’t find it inside yourself to be mad at him for it.

Despite all this, and being treated kindly by one of the anime’s protagonists out of all the nations in the room, you still felt uncomfortable being hugged by a Hetalia character that shouldn’t even exist. It was unnatural to even feel him, let alone have him talking to you directly.

You almost felt as if you were breaking a law of some sort.

Speaking of, you were hyperaware of the stares you were still getting around the whole table, and they weren’t helping matters, either.

“Uh, that’s not my name…” you start awkwardly, suddenly not sure how to talk to him. You chanced a peek at his face then, catching a glimpse of that iconic strand of hair curling away from his head.

“Oh?” Italy slackened his grip to tilt his head and look at you. “What's your name?”

Whether he actually had his eyes opened or not as he addressed you, you felt flustered for a reason you couldn’t explain and looked down again. “_. My name is _.”

“Ve~! That’s such a pretty name, _!”

Classic Italy.

You softly laughed with a blush at his behavior feeling a little lighter at his genuine fondness. You began trying to wiggle out of his tight grip a bit, partly from being watched so intently by the others and partly because you needed some space to breathe and not think about Northern Italy’s touch.

You failed, but hey, it was the thought that counts.

“_? Where did you come from?”

Your soft smile from Italy’s attitude died with the question that was spoken somewhere behind you, which you correlated to China. You didn’t care enough to look, as more of the reality of your current predicament carelessly unraveled itself in your head.

What the hell were you supposed to say? That you were from a world where everything that was currently happening wasn’t real?

Or what if it was fact and you’ve never known that these characters were walking on the very streets you walk on for your entire life? Did you cross paths with them without yourself knowing?

Was this a vital secret that could endanger your very existence if you told?

Were you even in your world anymore? How many things that you’ve lived your entire life by have altered or ceased to exist here?

“I wish I knew,” you absentmindedly whispered, eyes roving over the individual grains which made up the table you were kneeling upon. If you squinted, you could barely pinpoint your blurry reflection contrasted with the muddy blue form of Italy’s uniform on the glossy finish.

Your mind had blanked then; afraid of the future and all its possibilities.

What was the use of marveling at fiction coming to life and being a part of that experience when you had no idea what would become of you here?

And how would these personifications actually treat you? Would they be as the canon depicted? They seemed to act like it so far, but how could you really tell if it was a facade unless you knew them more? On top of that, would you even be accepted?

Did you even exist at all as another version of yourself? Did you end up switching with that person?

How did you end up here in the first place? What triggered this?

…

Could you even go back?

England, who was seated a little ways from you on the opposite side of the table, inspected your slouched form intently. Italy had rephrased the earlier question China posed, in a softer tone laced with worry and apprehension. He nudged you lightly as he still held you, treating you as if you were now made of something fragile. You had heard him but did not visibly react. You were still too lost in your own head to focus on your surroundings.

The British nation spoke up in an expressionless fashion, his chin resting in his hand as his fingers tapped rhythmically upon the table. “No. She doesn’t have any magical properties, but I know for sure that she isn’t from this world…” He sensed his magical friends hovering next to him with curious looks, turning their heads back and forth between the two of you as if willing the answer to suddenly appear before them.

The other nations moved their focus to England, spouting their own opinions that quickly overlapped into a loud discussion and lessened the attention on you. You perked up at Englishman’s words, about to say something, but the vowels fizzled out on your tongue with an ashy aftertaste that had you grimacing.

It was true, of course. But you had no idea if he meant it as a good or bad thing, and whether that knowledge would cause the nations would take pity on you or keep you under constant scrutiny was uncertain. And that apprehension won over any potential excitement felt from the opportunity of interacting with the countries.

At least, more than necessary, that is.

“If that’s true, England, then we should decide where _ is going to stay for the time being,” Germany declares, cutting through the murmuring. He met your eyes briefly before surveying the rest of the room. “Any suggestions?”

“She will become one with me, da?”

Everyone shivered in unison and you actually felt the temperature in the room change drastically. You willed yourself to look in the direction of the nation, even as your instincts screamed at you to do anything else but that.

“Um, I think we should hear what other countries have to say first, Russia.” A meek, European voice toward the Russian’s left replied, vibrating so badly that you wondered if he would explode on the spot if he was touched ever so slightly.

Russia was expressionless for a moment, seemingly glaring at the opposer, before facing the others again with a pleased smile and responding ominously.

“Very well. I’m patient.”

You couldn’t suppress the shiver if you tried.

The awkwardness in the air heavily permeated the room until another nation broke it.

“Well, what about me?”

And then a chorus of every opinion under the sun reached your ears like an uproar at a concert. A lot of the same phrases, colorful insults, and familiar names looped occasionally past your ears, not unlike a skipping record with some deep scratches that were beyond fixing yet still in a state playable enough to justify keeping it.

It felt… odd, to refer to them as their names, you realize. Even in the safety of your own thoughts, it was too personal. You cringe at yourself, feeling very out of place, as you kept picking up tidbits of the bickering around you.

“Italy! Let her breathe and get down from the table!” Germany chastised, contributing to the other voices and making Italy plead like a petulant child. Upon Germany’s intense insistence, which consisted of raising his voice to an aggravated shout, Italy quickly relented in fear, quaking in his boots.

Though you weren't sure if he caught it, you sent the Italian an apologetic smile as he dejectedly detangled his arms from you and clambered off the shiny wood surface. You almost thank Germany for pulling you out of the spiraling thoughts you started to have again, before stopping yourself. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, taking a moment to calm yourself as overlapping accents from all kinds of lands buzzed around you.

Feeling more refreshed, you brace yourself for any future animated shenanigans before focusing back on the world around you. When you opened your eyes, a palm shoots forward right in front of you, stopping inches away from your body. As your eyes trailed forward and up the protruding arm, you quickly pieced together that it belonged to the Italian who was shouting at you earlier. He was now looking red in the face, refusing to meet your gaze yet flickering his eyes to you every so often as he addressed you.

“Well, ragazza? What are you waiting for?” His tone was still harsh-sounding, but softer now with how he was grumbling his words.

Right. He was offering his assistance in getting you down from the table.

You took his hand gently, moving to sit in an empty chair right next to him. After settling yourself, you turned to Romano to find him peering at you from his peripherals. You smiled at him gratefully, the appreciative words flowing easily past your tongue. “Thank you, sir.”

He somehow turned redder, sputtering like a faucet, as if indecisive on what to say before finally settling on, “prego, dolcezza.”

You had no idea what that meant exactly but felt happy all the same at his attitude toward you now. If this was his way of apologizing for scaring you earlier, he was doing a great job of it so far.

Well, for him, that is.

Among the uproar of conversation around you, the Italian spoke up again.

“Call me Romano, ragazza. Si?” He seemed to add this as an afterthought and didn’t look at you as he did so.

You were surprised he chose to introduce himself to you at all, blinking at him before expressing your happiness at his permission to use his name. Though it wasn’t his real one, it was still progress. “Grazie, Romano, please call me _, then,” you softly respond with the minimal amount of Italian you knew from fans' contributions, hoping the slight accent you put on it wasn’t choppy and unpracticed as it actually was.

Thank you Hetalia fandom!

He mimics your expression as he whips his head around, his long curl bobbing and swaying with the motion. He likely didn’t expect you to respond in his language, you conclude as you stare at his persistent curl. He sharply turns away and grumbles incoherently. You softly giggle to yourself so as to not offend him in case he heard you. You didn’t remember his tsundere side to be so adorable.

“... _ will not be staying with them. Who else?” Germany announced, and you were quickly tuned back into the current conversation.

You had no idea why your appearance became a discussion of which country you would be staying with at a world meeting so fast, especially without trying to get to know you first, but you were grateful enough to not complain about it. Figuring out a place to stay now eliminated most of the stress from your situation. It would also give you some mental and physical space to breathe from the other nations, and allow you time to decide on your next course of action.

“Well obviously,” England declared, shifting in his seat and crossing his arms haughtily, “she will be staying with me. I clearly know more about her situation than you lot.”

Okay... that was, presumptuous of him…

And while that smug look he sported was attractive in his own way, you were hesitant on sharing a home with someone who thought so highly of himself. You weren’t looking to be demeaned just for something out of your control, like being unknowledgeable in magic or something.

There was a collective beat of silence, and then one soul announced his thoughts. “She’s not eating your food,” the person deadpanned. The others silently nodded in a strange sense of unity.

Even though you didn’t say anything, you definitely agreed with that sentiment. You didn’t mean to judge him from the creator’s blatant stereotyping, but that was the bread and butter of the series, which meant England’s food would pose a real risk to your health if you dared to try it here.

And you felt a twinge of guilt toward the Brit at the thought, knowing it was a sore subject for him from the constant ridicule he got on it. That was until you heard his rebuttal.

“I’ll have you know that British cuisine is eons ahead of what you gits call ‘food.’ You lot are just unappreciative, uncultured-”

Okay, just because he’s objectively outnumbered doesn’t mean he needs to insult-

“So England’s out and he doesn’t get a vote. Who else has recommendations?” Germany resolutely cut through England’s sentence and your thoughts with a tired sigh, and you got the sense he wanted all this to be over already.

Wait. Did your appearance extend the time of their meeting?

…

Whoops.

Out of the corner of your eye, you amusedly watched England’s expression morph from cockiness into flabbergasted offense, before switching to mock indifference. He huffed and turned his head away. You thought he was also muttering something, likely a few choice words a gentleman probably shouldn’t say, before you stopped analyzing him in case you were caught staring.

Though their options were more limited now, it seemed the nations were at a loss of who to elect next, as there was a long stretch of silence that stretched throughout the room after quickly denominating England.

You almost forgot how savage they could all be when they tried…

“Since our guest won’t be staying in the hideous country of Britain, she is more than welcome to stay with me in the beautiful city of Paris!” A male clad in purple and red spoke up with a dramatic swish of his head, flaunting his long, blond hair as he winked at you.

The response was immediate.

“There’s no bloody way she’s staying with you, frog! Knowing you, you’ll try to pull something disgraceful on her, and I won’t allow it!”

You stiffened a bit and blinked at the loudness in England’s tone, surprised at how quick he was to be angry at France’s suggestion.

England hating France was a given, but…

Was he trying to defend your honor or was he that hurt at being shot down by the others?

No one else had volunteered to speak up despite them collectively deciding England had no say anymore, and let the argument between the two nations play out like two actors on stage.

 France pouted at England’s outburst. “Seriously Angleterre,” England bristled at the nickname, “you really think so lowly of me? I thought we were friends, non?”

The Brit thinned his lips in disapproval before responding lowly. “Being allies doesn’t make us friends, you bugger. I’m only saying that there are far more superior lands for her to occupy than your poor excuse for a ‘classy’ city.”

France, while clearly agitated by the underhanded insult, then smoothed his expression elegantly before he specifically turned to you with a smile, his eyes roving over what he could see of your form. It was then you realized he has been the first to do so since this conversation about your living situation started- not counting Germany, as he didn’t throw his territory into the mix.

“Well, since my beautiful homeland is being unjustly slandered by a classless fiend who thinks drab colors are fashionable,” he paused to sharply glare at England, who exhaled indignantly, before turning back to you with a warm expression. “Would you like to stay with my dear Canada, mon amie?”

Wow.

That… was perfect, actually.

Holy shit why didn’t you think of that?

The murmurs around you died down a bit, anticipating your answer, but you couldn’t pick up any of it, having all of your attention on France’s gracious offer. While you knew he did so because he wouldn’t have been nominated otherwise even if he was there, you had a good intuition that Canada would be kind to you- even if he was opposed to the idea of your intrusion in his space. It would give you time to think about this whole mess, and staying out of the other nation’s ways with a country they barely remembered at the same time was a bonus.

And the fact that France put your consent into consideration?

Was it possible to love someone within five minutes of meeting them?

You looked at France like he held the moon and stars, feeling your heart soar with relief. “If he doesn’t mind and you really think it’s okay, then I’d love to stay with him.”

He visibly brightened, “bon! C'est merveilleux! I’ll tell him rapidement and see you off! Tres bien!” France jumped from his seat, utterly giddy with delight and falling more into his natural tongue as he pulled out a phone and fiddled with it.

For some reason, your ears picked up some select, dejected groans at France’s words and you wondered if they were upset they didn’t get a say-

Wait. See you off?

…

Looks like you’re going to Canada, then.

~

France continuously gushed about you and his younger brother the moment you stepped outside of the meeting’s doors and after fully updating Canada on the situation. He was done so quickly that the other nations didn’t have a chance to properly interrogate you before France moved into your personal space and whisked you out of the room. He was now gliding through the halls with unbridled excitement and you almost thought he would break out into a dance, once again imagining him as a performer in his element.

You would’ve been annoyed by the constant chatter if he didn’t also include you in the conversation just as often, actively inquiring about your preferences in various topics. You appeased him and you both shared anecdotes of your life when appropriate, sharing laughs at your misfortunes and his recounts of fighting with England paired with their creatively petulant jabs toward each other.

His overuse of cologne was more tolerant the longer you stayed in his presence; your nose attributing the distinct smell of fresh rose bushes and lavender crops decorated in a morning’s dew became- to you- a mental signifier of France’s outlook on life. As he explained to you how he saw and embraced the beauty of the world around him, you felt as if you were learning about him for the first time with a pair of new eyes. It was admirable how he could express himself as such without any effort on his part, and you concluded that his soul was gentle- and his heart was bursting with such a strong amount of genuine love that it could not be contained and overflowed into all aspects of his daily life.

Then you remembered his pitiful attempts to stand up to Germany and you laughed to yourself.

You realized you were having such a nice time in the Frenchman’s presence that you had no idea how much time had actually passed as you two traveled. You also figured out where you were this whole time, which was right before the Canadian border. And the trip itself wasn’t long at all, because you were just a couple of cities over from where France’s little brother lived in.

France actually didn’t stop talking your ear off until you were both standing in front of Canada’s plot of residence; and as you followed his lead in approaching the quaint building, you grew curious as to why France had suddenly grown quiet now of all times.

“What’s wrong, Francis?” He had elected to give you his name almost immediately after leaving the conference room, insisting that you use it. He clarified that there was no need to be formal when you would be close to him and his family from now on, and that admission had you smiling stupidly and feeling a lot more at ease.

France seemed to realize he was thinking pensively and cleared it away by shaking his head with a sad smile. It was an expression that had you sobering from your relaxed state due to the bought of nostalgia his face brought to your memories.

“You just… look sad, cherie.” The seriousness in his words threw you off. When he turned to look at you, you also caught some sympathy glistening in his eyes.

Oh. The closest he could’ve seen you smile was when Italy was comforting you earlier, or perhaps as you swapped stories.

Was he able to figure that much out about you with just one look? Or were you accidentally playing your emotions for everyone? How many of them actually knew what you were thinking in that room?

You tried to manage a half-smile at France, but it was entirely too weak and wobbly on your muscles to hold properly. So you dropped the expression and settled on a casual shrug, avoiding his gaze to watch your foot carelessly scuff itself across the sparse grass that decorated the dirt. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Even if you could sort through it and unpack it all right now, it was the completely wrong time to do so.

Ha. Where would you even begin?

France hummed, as if taking your words into consideration before trekking toward the front porch. He reached out to rap on the front door in a one-two pattern. Silence hung heavy in the air before a creak from inside the house broke the atmosphere.

As the door was opened, you were faced with a male who looked very similar to France. The strong smell of maple wafted from him, followed by a spicy or smokey undertone that felt refreshing. Apart from his more violet eyes, round glasses, his comfy style of dress consisting of a red flannel and plain, gray sweats, and the single curl drooping from the parting of his hair, he resembled more of France’s features, not unlike the Italian brothers.

Canada looked tired but perked up the moment France’s exuberant greeting caught his attention. When he looked over and realized you were standing there as well, he became more alert and bashful for some reason.

“Matthieu! Bonjour mon frere, this is the lovely _ I told you all about.”

You waved on cue from France’s welcoming flourish, smiling pleasantly at your new roommate. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Canada. France told me a lot of good things about you.”

You knew a lot more about Canada than France ever told you on the trip here, of course, but he didn’t need to know that. The last thing you needed was to make things more awkward than it already was, especially with someone like Canada, who would likely combust on the spot out of nervousness if you did.

“Nice to meet you, _.” Canada spoke, in a much softer tone and higher pitch than France. It was clearly hard for him to hold eye contact with you and not warble with his words at the same time, but you thought it was endearing.

You attempted to match Canada’s aura as you responded, trying to sound as accommodating as you could. “I hope my staying here won’t be too much of a bother, Canada. I know this is short notice. I’ll do what I can to try not to annoy you or get in your way. I don’t plan on intruding in your own space during my stay, and I hope we get along.”

Canada flinched and shuffled in place, and the shift in his expression told you he was more surprised than offended at your words. He seemed to actively attempt to maintain eye contact with you now, even smiling slightly. “Oh, you can call me Matthew if you like. And I think we’ll get along too, _. I actually hope I won't be a bother for you. I know some people don’t like my company and would rather hang out with others instead…” He raised his arm to rub the back of his neck bashfully.

He was probably the most normal nation you could ever hope to room with in this predicament and you couldn’t be happier at the thought.

“Not at all! I think you’re very easy to talk to, Matthew.”

And as you gaze at the Canadian, you see past scenes of him from the anime he belongs to flashing through your mind like an edited short film. You realize then that while those words had completely slipped out of your mouth on accident, you truly meant it now just as you did then as a first-time viewer.

You both share a laugh at the ease of tension any first, awkward meeting brings as France observes the scene contently. He beamed at the praise you gave him and was delighted to witness your politeness towards Canada, further cementing that letting you stay with his beloved younger brother was a great decision on his part.

You will definitely be visiting his home next.

That black sheep of Europe can suck it.

France bid you adieu, quite literally, and skipped away like a giddy schoolgirl. You could almost see the flowers and sparkles surrounding his body from the pure elation he emanated. You giggled at France’s departure as Matthew invited you inside.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

~

[godtier]

i did it

beat pkmn emerald for the first time ever in my life 😭

my thoughts:

I was kinda unsure when I first started it. I mentioned before that I rly don't like the GBA sound chip/font. it sounds... kinda farty. but also, the gameplay speed itself was really difficult to adjust to, coming from gen 1&2. it felt really slow/sluggish by comparison

some pkmn animations were... excessively long, which I'm sure I would have found really cool when I was younger. but as it is, some of them were so annoying that I had to turn off battle animations briefly. chiefly spheal, azumarill, and staryu had really annoyingly long ones

bummed out to find that there were a lot of things that required record mixing or link cable connection to get anything out of. example: I got the "contest lady" in my game file in the lilycove pokemon center. I didn't realize that she requires not only record mixing to advance her "quest," but... you don't even get anything from her? you just waste pokeblocks and then if you mix records, you get to see if she wins or loses her contest??? what's... the point? another example: I can't make berry powder at all bc it requires link cable multi-player 🫠

I haven't tried contests yet but it seems really confusing... maybe now that I beat the E4 I'll give it a try

the story was interesting! I kinda knew most of it via osmosis but it was really neat seeing how they were experimenting with something more "global" at the time vs. the more "localized" threat of team rocket in 1&2

some of the encounter rates were absolutely dogshit. 2% for a chimecho? whyyyyy. also no roselia or surskit or lunatone at all? 😭 not that two of those three are very good but man

still no shiny encounter at all! very annoyed, though the pokerus find was still wild af

I feel like a lot of the move sets are really bad for the new pkmn... like idk, it often felt like my move sets were subpar and it seemed to assume you'd be using up TMs constantly. but I mean, gen 1&2 had really bad move sets, too... ig I kinda assumed they'd be more varied in gen 3, but it felt more of the same

I liked the map! it was fun going thru a region I had never played before rather than replay something I was super familiar with

the rematch system was a bit annoying compared to the vs. seeker in FR/LG, but I was grateful it was there

oh one more thing: the E4 was actually challenging! that was really nice!

now it's time for the post-game stuff! it seems like there's still a lot left to do, though I already got the regi guys. I'm gonna look into what other games the vita can handle running on retroarch. I'd like to replay DPP or HGSS, but idk if DS games will run well on the vita considering the screen is wider but not long enough to show both top and bottom lol... I do own those games on the original DS so it's not a huge deal if I can't get em to run on my vita, but I kinda want to start a new save... and I could do that on my DS, but I have event pkmn on my original carts 😭

failing that, I'll probably try some ROMhacks. if anyone knows any good gen3 ROMhacks (preferably ones that have the physical/special split; I've heard they're out there!) or even gen 1&2 ROMhacks, lmk!

[flabby-flattie-fatties]

Aurora getting stuck in her W’s portal.

(I really like meta stories about the game itself!)

A nerf, a nerf! How was that even possible? She was the newest champion in the rift, she was supposed to be good at least for a few patches. However, not even a week later and she was already getting nerfs. Less movement speed, less damage, she was being attacked from all sides.

At this point, it wasn't even worth fighting enemies anymore, she was just going to get stomped by them. So Aurora decided to do the best thing she could think of, go jungle.

At first it was a little challenging, she wasn't made for the role, so her clears were slow, she had fallen two levels down on the enemy jungler, so even more of a reason to avoid any and all fighting.

However, her team were actually really good. Gwen was dominating toplane, Qiyana was just demolishing mid, and botlane with Cait and Lulu was going actually really well, so she mostly just decided to farm her camps.

Blue, krogs, raptors, wolves, red, grump, scuttle. Rinse and repeat with the occasional void grub, herald, and drake.

She was getting surprisingly good at jungling... However, what she was getting quite a bit bad at was getting to the jungle itself.

Each time she backed, she found herself taking longer and longer to reach the jungle. Not only that, she felt more... Sluggish. She knew her movement speed had taken a hit, but didn't think it was that bad. And from the looks of things, her HP was higher than ever, however, she just couldn't farm as well.

As moved her wand, she would feel her belly starting to slosh from side to side, and as she finished the camp, things just got worse, she could feel her belt getting tighter as well.

Didn't help that Lulu would often time come and give her a bunch of biscuits to stay topped off in case she found an enemy. However, the only enemy she found were the walls of the jungle.

40 minutes into the game, 4 cloud drakes plus homeguard, yet Aurora was still slower than a Yuumi.

Even worse was that now each step took away part of her HP, so she constantly had to keep refilling it with biscuits, she had even sold all her items to buy more.

Slow waddle after slow waddle, massive bunny buns quaking and cracking the floor of their base. In a desperate attempt to go faster, Aurora tried to hop between dimensions... However, she quickly found a problem.

Her body went through the portal, all the way up to her thighs. Try as she might, she wiggle, she swayed, she tried to move around, but she just couldn't get past the door to the spirit world. Her mounds of bubbler behind her just wouldn't fit.

“Awwww, don't worry little bunny, I can help! We yordles are experts in the spirit world!" A little voice said behind her, one that couldn't help but take a bite out of her bottom before climbing on top of her.

“All you need to do to break free is to outgrow the doorway. Don't worry, celestial beings are too big to fit through, so we just have to get you there~" before the poor bunny could even answer, she felt as biscuits started pouring down her mouth... It was then that she realized, her team had all suffered the same fate.

[venusremediespharma]

10 Easy and Nutrient-Rich Recipes for Busy Professionals

Introduction to the importance of maintaining a healthy diet for busy professionals

In today's fast-paced world, it can be challenging for busy professionals to prioritize their health and well-being. As they juggle never-ending meetings, deadlines, and demanding work schedules, the thought of cooking a nutritious meal often takes a backseat. However, maintaining a healthy diet is crucial not only for physical fitness but also for mental clarity and overall productivity. While grabbing takeout or dining out may seem like convenient options, the truth is that homemade meals have numerous advantages over restaurant fare. Not only do you have control over the ingredients used, but you can also tailor your dishes to suit your dietary needs and preferences. Plus, cooking at home allows you to embrace creativity in the kitchen while ensuring that every bite packs a punch of nutrients. If you're ready to step up your culinary game without spending hours slaving away in the kitchen, we've got you covered! In this blog post, we'll share 10 easy and nutrient-rich recipes that are perfect for busy professionals like yourself. Whether you need ideas for a quick breakfast before diving into emails or a satisfying dinner after an intense day at work – these recipes will tick all the boxes! So dust off those aprons and get ready to embark on a delicious journey towards nourishing your body with wholesome goodness. Let's dive right in!

Benefits of cooking at home vs. eating out

When it comes to our busy professional lives, finding time to cook at home may seem like a daunting task. It's so much easier to just grab takeout or dine out at a restaurant. But believe me when I say that cooking at home has numerous benefits that are worth considering. First and foremost, cooking at home allows you complete control over what goes into your meals. You can choose the freshest ingredients, opt for organic produce, and monitor the amount of oil, salt, and sugar in your dishes. This means you have greater control over your nutrition and can make healthier choices overall. Not only does cooking at home give you more control over your diet, but it also saves you money in the long run. Eating out regularly can quickly add up and become a significant expense. By preparing meals yourself, you're able to stretch your budget further while still enjoying delicious food. Additionally, cooking at home is an opportunity for creativity and self-expression in the kitchen. You can experiment with different flavors, try new recipes from around the world, and tailor each dish to suit your taste preferences. Furthermore, cooking at home fosters a sense of connection with loved ones as well as oneself. Inviting friends or family members over for a homemade meal creates cherished memories and strengthens relationships. And even if dining alone, taking the time to prepare a meal just for yourself promotes self-care and mindfulness. Lastly (but certainly not least), cooking at home gives you peace of mind knowing exactly what ingredients are being used in your meals. With food allergies on the rise and concerns about hidden additives or preservatives in restaurant fare, being able to prepare dishes from scratch provides reassurance about what you're putting into your body. So why not give cooking at home a try? Not only will it benefit both your health and wallet but also allow for culinary exploration while fostering connections with others – all within the comfort of your own kitchen!

10 easy and nutrient-rich recipes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner: Maintaining a healthy diet is crucial for busy professionals who often find themselves strapped for time. It can be tempting to grab fast food or order takeout, but these options are often lacking in nutrients and can leave you feeling sluggish. Cooking at home not only allows you to have control over the ingredients you use, but it also gives you the opportunity to create delicious meals that are packed with nutrition. For those hectic mornings when breakfast seems impossible, overnight oats with fruit and nuts are a perfect solution. Simply combine rolled oats with your choice of milk or yogurt, add some fresh fruits like berries or sliced bananas, sprinkle on some chopped nuts for extra crunch, and let it sit in the fridge overnight. Wake up to a ready-to-eat meal that will provide sustained energy throughout the day. When it comes to lunchtime, quinoa salad with roasted vegetables is both satisfying and nutritious. Cook up some quinoa according to package instructions and toss it together with roasted veggies such as bell peppers, zucchini, and cherry tomatoes. Drizzle on a lemon vinaigrette dressing for added flavor. A turkey and avocado wrap makes for an easy yet filling dinner option. Grab a whole wheat tortilla wrap and layer on slices of lean turkey breast along with creamy avocado slices. Add lettuce leaves or sprouts for freshness before rolling it all up into a portable meal. For seafood lovers looking for something quick and nourishing, baked salmon with quinoa and veggies fits the bill perfectly. Season a salmon fillet with herbs like dill or rosemary before baking until flaky. Serve alongside cooked quinoa mixed with sautéed vegetables like spinach or broccoli florets. Stir-fries are always great go-to recipes since they come together quickly while allowing you to incorporate various protein sources such as chicken or tofu along with plenty of colorful vegetables. Try making chicken stir-fry with brown rice by sautéing strips of chicken breast in a hot

A. Overnight oats with fruit and nuts

Starting the day with a healthy and filling breakfast can set the tone for a productive day ahead. One easy and nutrient-rich option is overnight oats with fruit and nuts. This quick and convenient recipe requires minimal effort but packs a punch in terms of nutrition. To make overnight oats, simply combine rolled oats with your choice of milk (dairy or plant-based) in a jar or container. Add some chia seeds for an extra boost of fiber, omega-3 fatty acids, and antioxidants. Stir everything together until well combined, then cover and refrigerate overnight. In the morning, your oats will have absorbed the liquid to become thick and creamy. Top them off with your favorite fruits like berries or sliced bananas for natural sweetness and added vitamins and minerals. Sprinkle on some nuts such as almonds or walnuts for crunchiness along with healthy fats. Not only does this recipe provide essential nutrients like fiber, protein, healthy fats, vitamins, and minerals; it also offers long-lasting energy to keep you fueled throughout the morning. Plus, it's customizable to suit different taste preferences so you can get creative! So why not give overnight oats a try? They are not only delicious but also time-saving - perfect for busy professionals who want to prioritize their health without sacrificing convenience!

B. Quinoa salad with roasted vegetables

B. Quinoa Salad with Roasted Vegetables Quinoa, a nutrient-rich grain, has gained popularity in recent years for its numerous health benefits. Paired with roasted vegetables, it creates a delicious and satisfying salad that is perfect for busy professionals on the go. To make this refreshing dish, start by cooking quinoa according to package instructions. While it's simmering away, chop up your favorite vegetables like bell peppers, zucchini, and cherry tomatoes. Toss them with olive oil, salt, and pepper before roasting them in the oven until tender and slightly caramelized. Once everything is ready - the quinoa cooked to fluffy perfection and veggies roasted to perfection - simply combine them all together in a large bowl. Drizzle with a tangy vinaigrette made from lemon juice, olive oil, Dijon mustard, and garlic for an extra burst of flavor. The result? A vibrant salad bursting with colors and flavors that will leave you feeling energized throughout the day. It's not only packed with essential nutrients but also provides a good balance of carbohydrates and protein to fuel your body. So next time you're looking for a quick yet nutritious meal option during your hectic schedule as a busy professional working at one of the best pharma companies out there take some time to prepare this easy quinoa salad with roasted vegetables!

C. Turkey and avocado wrap

If you're a busy professional looking for a quick and nutritious lunch option, the Turkey and Avocado Wrap is the perfect choice. Packed with protein from lean turkey and healthy fats from avocado, this recipe will keep you energized throughout the day. To make this delicious wrap, start by spreading some mashed avocado onto a whole wheat tortilla. The creamy texture of the avocado pairs perfectly with the savory flavor of the turkey. Next, layer on some thinly sliced turkey breast for an extra boost of protein. Add some crisp lettuce leaves and slices of juicy tomato to add freshness and crunch to your wrap. You can also customize it further by adding other toppings such as red onion or cucumber. Roll up your wrap tightly, securing it with toothpicks if needed, and enjoy! This Turkey and Avocado Wrap is not only easy to make but also portable, making it a convenient option for on-the-go lunches. Not only does this recipe provide essential nutrients like vitamins A and C from the vegetables, but it also offers lean protein from the turkey. Protein is crucial for muscle repair and maintenance – something that busy professionals often overlook in their hectic schedules. By opting for homemade meals like this Turkey and Avocado Wrap instead of grabbing fast food or takeout options during lunchtime, you can ensure that you're nourishing your body properly while saving time and money. So why not give this simple yet flavorful recipe a try? Your taste buds –and your body– will thank you!

D. Baked salmon with quinoa and veggies

D. Baked salmon with quinoa and veggies Salmon is a nutritional powerhouse, packed with omega-3 fatty acids that are great for brain health and reducing inflammation. Paired with quinoa and an array of colorful vegetables, this recipe makes for a delicious and nutritious meal. To start off, preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). While it's heating up, season the salmon fillets with salt, pepper, and any other herbs or spices you prefer. Place the seasoned fillets on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Next, prepare your quinoa according to package instructions. Quinoa is not only high in protein but also rich in fiber and essential minerals like magnesium and iron. While the quinoa is cooking, chop up an assortment of veggies such as bell peppers, zucchini, broccoli florets, and cherry tomatoes. Toss them in olive oil along with some garlic powder or fresh minced garlic for added flavor. Once everything is ready to go into the oven, bake the salmon fillets for around 12-15 minutes until they're cooked through but still moist. At the same time, roast your vegetable medley until tender yet slightly crisp. Serve a generous portion of baked salmon alongside fluffy quinoa and vibrant roasted vegetables for a well-rounded meal that will leave you feeling satisfied without weighing you down. This recipe not only offers a myriad of nutrients from different food groups but also provides plenty of variety in flavors and textures. It's easy enough to whip up after a long day at work while ensuring that you're nourishing your body properly. So why wait? Give this simple yet flavorful dish a try today!

E. Chicken stir-fry with brown rice

Chicken stir-fry with brown rice is a delicious and nutritious meal that is quick and easy to prepare, making it perfect for busy professionals. This recipe combines lean protein from the chicken with fiber-rich vegetables and whole grains from the brown rice. It's a balanced meal that will keep you satisfied and energized throughout the day. To make this dish, start by cooking the brown rice according to package instructions. While the rice is cooking, heat some oil in a pan or wok over medium-high heat. Add thinly sliced chicken breast and cook until it's no longer pink in the center. Next, add your choice of colorful vegetables such as bell peppers, broccoli florets, snap peas, or carrots to the pan. Stir-fry for a few minutes until they are tender-crisp. For extra flavor, you can season your stir-fry with soy sauce or a combination of ginger, garlic, and sesame oil. These ingredients add depth to the dish without adding excessive calories or sodium. Once everything is cooked through and well combined, serve your chicken stir-fry over a bed of fluffy brown rice. Feel free to garnish with chopped green onions or cilantro for added freshness. This recipe can be easily customized based on your preferences or what ingredients you have on hand. You can add additional spices or herbs for more flavor variations. The best part is that leftovers can be enjoyed as lunch for another busy workday!

F. Lentil soup

Incorporating nutrient-rich recipes into your busy professional lifestyle is a smart and effective way to prioritize your health. By cooking at home, you have control over the ingredients used, ensuring that every meal is packed with the necessary nutrients to fuel your day. In this article, we've explored 10 easy and delicious recipes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. F. Lentil soup Lentils are an excellent source of plant-based protein and fiber, making them a perfect ingredient for a hearty and nutritious soup. To prepare this comforting dish, start by sautéing onions and garlic in olive oil until fragrant. Add chopped vegetables like carrots, celery, and tomatoes to the pot along with rinsed lentils. Pour in vegetable or chicken broth to cover all the ingredients and bring it to a boil. Reduce heat to low and let it simmer until the lentils are tender. Season with herbs such as thyme or rosemary for added flavor. You can also customize your lentil soup by adding spices like cumin or paprika if desired. Once everything is cooked through and flavors have melded together beautifully, serve yourself a warm bowl of nourishing lentil soup – perfect for those chilly evenings when you need something filling yet healthy! Incorporating these 10 easy and nutrient-rich recipes into your weekly meal plan will not only save you time but also provide you with balanced meals that support your overall well-being. Remember that eating healthy doesn't have to be complicated even when life gets busy; all it takes is a little planning ahead! So why wait? Start experimenting in the kitchen today – fuel yourself with wholesome food that keeps you energized throughout long workdays! Cheers to good health while balancing professional success!

[dont-strain-me]

An update, of sorts (9/21/2023)

Hello everyone (or just me, haha!) - it's been over two years since I've updated this blog. There have been a lot of personal updates in my life, my own struggle with body acceptance, and health struggles, and I thought it would be interesting to share those in the context of this blog.

When I started this blog, I had recently moved out of my dad's house and on my own with my primary partner. I was also starting to get regular check-ups at the doctor for the first time in about...10-15 years? And part of my motivation for starting the blog - aside from wanting to physically be skinnier - was also that I was advised by my doctor because my cholesterol and heart rates were elevated above normal. I also had major issues with vitamin D deficiency (like, catastrophically low vitamin D deficiency!), some iron deficiency, and general sluggishness. I have a pretty strong family history of heart disease, so it was important for me to handle these issues.

Cut to - making this blog, and tracking my progress! I would bore everyone with what is already here, but - having been overweight for some time now - I kind of knew that trying to consciously lose weight wasn't going to work, and I thought I could do it ""healthfully"" with making small changes.

That didn't really work - at some point, I realized I'd just be counting calories forever. And I didn't have a great workout routine either; I think I wasn't exercising enough to get either the weight loss or general health benefits of it.

So, cut to 2021 - I decide to make a conscious for myself to stop prioritizing weight loss and just feel comfortable in my skin

This was...really difficult. Difficult in a way I didn't expect. I had an issue where I was trying to order a pair of pants online and I felt this weird paranoid sense of shame when I had to keep returning the pants to get a bigger size. I consciously recognized that the company had a really kind of stupid sizing structure for their clothes, but subconsciously it felt like shaming me for being plus sized.

There is something about trying to just develop a sense of comfort and body neutrality that seems threatening to people, too. Telling people you're not actively losing weight - especially when you're a small fat like me - feels like a sin of the highest order.

--

Now, this lasted for a few years. In that time, I had started therapy, and was trying in general to get out and get moving (on my therapist's requests). My doctors were still advising I lose weight, but when I would ask for more concrete suggestions or plans, they would just tell me the same general info. Fine, I guess, I'll just try and go to the gym a big and see how that goes.

I was beginning to have some issues with my blood pressure. So bad, that one visit to the OB/GYN for an annual pap smear lead to me having to sit there for almost 30 minutes over the time I was supposed to leave because my blood pressure was almost dangerously high.

Then, Autumn of 2022 - I kept getting sick with the flu, or COVID, or something, on and off for months. On the second trip to the urgent care to try and get some antibiotics, the attending physician - who also happened to be an ER doctor - took my vitals and saw my blood pressure was high, and gave me an EKG. Sure enough, she told me I was having a "minor cardiac event" but would be fine, but I needed to see a cardiologist.

After the cardiologist visit, a lipid panel, an echocardiogram, and a stress test, they concluded that my cholesterol and blood pressure were elevated, but not enough to be medicated, and I should try and lose weight, exercise more, and eat less fat and sodium.

This was really challenging for me, at first. I had a serious medical need to lose weight and have to constantly monitor my food intake, but that was a stress I thought I was able to leave long behind.

But I got started, and I started doing two things that I think have made the biggest impact on my vitals since - I started organizing my workouts based on time rather than how much I was doing, and spacing out fast food meals and other greasy/salty meals that I would want.

I used the US's recommendation for how much exercise an adult should get in per week - 150 minutes of moderate exercise. It was really hard at first, but honestly, it is so much easier than I expected. I tell myself that I need to find absolutely any physical activity to on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that get me to the 150 minutes per week (50 minutes each of those days). I'll double the time I have doing light work (like cleaning) so that it comes out to a more moderate exercise, but most of the time I find myself doing long, intentional walks around the neighborhood or at the gym, messing with the settings on the treadmill there to increase resistance. Sometimes I'll even go do weight machines, and keep track of the time actually doing an exercise with a stopwatch so I'm not counting excessive time sitting around as "working out"

Spacing out the rate at which I eat greasy and salty foods has helped a lot too. I have also started trying to do that with sugary sodas, too. I tend to have less cravings in general and am able to go much longer in between without feeling ravenous for it. Occasionally I have more than I should, but then I'm excited to bounce right back into healthy eating.

After doing all of this - honestly - I did begin noticing physical changes. I just felt "better" - I didn't feel so sluggish, and a lot of random aches and pains I would get around my body finally started to go away completely. I notice they come back when I'm too sedentary or eating too much salty or greasy foods, but then it becomes a good motivating factor for finding healthy food and maybe getting up and taking care of some cleaning around the house and doing a few stretches. Feeling this good really makes a big difference on my mental health, too.

---

This is all to say, as recently as yesterday I discovered my LDL cholesterol is now only 4 points above normal (as opposed to like 40 points) and my blood pressure was at 116/70, at a normal range! My vitamin D is not dangerously deficient anymore, but I still need to take the supplements, and I am not longer deficient in iron.

And if you can believe it - on top of all of this - I have no lost any weight. In fact, I've gained about 5 lbs.

Knowing the years of hearing my doctors mention weight loss, I brought this up. I mentioned that I try and get 150 minutes of exercise in per week, and my doctor looked at me and said that my weight is stable, and that I shouldn't worry about separate weight loss right now because my body composition - as long as I continue this frequent exercise in the long term - will start to follow suit. I couldn't even believe it.

I wanted to end on this note, because I think it really proved for me that I can be healthy without having to starve myself, or feel like I needed to track everything I took into my body. It really can just be as easy as eating as healthfully as possible, have a treat when you need it, and keep yourself moving as much as possible, in any way that would be fun and fulfilling for you.

[kieuecaprie]

So, got around to trying it in Gaming Mode and, uh, well, the performance is Not Great™, then again I'm playing in wine and not, y'know, native, so there's probably a performance issue there. MM8BDM also suffered from horrendous performance issues until I switched over to native. Will switch over to native as soon as the flatpak is up.

And now, my thoughts on the game as a whole, hidden behind the read more due to spoilers.

Let's start off with the bad first, we might as well rip off the band-aid. For this list, I'm listing from worst to least worst:

AI is very, VERY rubberbandy, hideously so. It honestly feels like I'm being punished for not utilizing a technique properly except I'm sure I'm doing all I can. The Rival AI is the worst since it randomly gains massive speed boosts for no reason and seems to have an infinite supply of rings at its disposal.

The new items suck. I'm sorry, but they do. The Bubble Shield is unintuitive, the bouncer is very frustrating to get hit by and amplifies the feeling of getting karted by 10 times, spinning top fucking sucks to get when behind, new hyuudoro is also not very good, the new bombs are not good either as they are now single-fire with five ammo. The only real good new item I can praise somewhat is the shrink ray. Also, where the fuck is the SPB? I've played three grand prixs so far and have not seen it once.

Tutorial throws everything at you at once and offers no way out of it. You're stuck in there until you actually finish it. Yes, there is a skip but it's Dissidia style where if you try to skip, the game decides to curbstomp you with high/max level AI and you only get ONE SHOT at it during the initial tutorial. It also doesn't help that the tutorial is LOOOOONG.

Locking online play behind grand prix doesn't feel very good and may hinder new players who just want to play with their friends in future. Sure, you only need to finish with bronze in the first cup but keep in mind this is on top of the tutorial beforehand that takes an hour or two to finish.

Speaking of questionable locking design, colors? Why? Addons? Why? I can get locking characters, followers, and cups behind unlockables but those two in particular? Why?

Special Stages seem fine at first but the second one feels like it has a massive difficulty spike. Doesn't help that you get one shot at doing it (with all the lives you've collected up to that point) so if you fail, you have to start all over again. If the second special stage has questionable design, I don't want to know about the others... Reminder that you have to do this 14 times and the unlock seems purely arbitrary.

Gameplay feels sluggish at times, compounded by times when you have 0 rings. Rings are significantly more impactful than items in most cases. Insta-whip sees no real use outside of the tutorial mostly due to its range and the fact that it puts you in a deficit when you hold it for too long. Drifting also feels slightly worse than it did and even slows you down considerably.

Spin-dashing feels slow and even when I use it deliberately to cross a body of water, I feel like I never make it, making that use case also very situational.

Okay... that's a lot of negativity there, surely there's some good points, right? Yeah, you're right actually, there is!

So here's what I liked about Dr. Robotnik's Ring Racers so far. For this one, I'm listing this from good to best (so we're climbing up from least worst here):

Outside of a few questionable decisions (you could've at least given us base colors!), I like the idea of an unlock board. Getting Chao keys for playing the game to allow one to skip challenges is a good idea and while it's agonizing not knowing which box unlocks what, I feel like only being able to read what's just ahead of you kind of calms the choice paralysis down a bit.

Despite being long and tiresome, the tutorial has some good moments and while I'm not exactly thrilled at it being strictly mandatory, it having literally every main mechanic in there makes it exceedingly helpful with coming to grips with the game.

The option to include an input delay system to practice for online play is absolutely appreciated. Some people may not like it but in my experience of playing SRB2K online, there is absolutely some input lag. It's not Smash Ultimate online levels of bad (that one is like ten years per input) but you do notice it. Sure, it does make offline play a little frustrating but you can easily turn it off if it bothers you.

The profile system is great. Accessibility options are also somewhat decent with a few not-so-great options such as "kickstart accel" being clunky to use. The rest, however, is pretty good, even if they may feel like standard fare. Having controls be linked to profiles is also good too.

The starting line system is interesting and somewhat engaging even if it boils down to sitting close to the line and spin-dashing when the countdown hits 2. I also enjoy the fact that you could potentially knock your rival in the line and force them to sit out for a bit.

The new courses are definitely a step-up from SRB2K. (Yes, I'm comparing it to its older brother.) The designs are great and the ones that are effectively remakes of the SRB2K ones are pretty good in my opinion.

Despite my gripes with the AI, the fact that it even has a singleplayer component at all gives it an edge over SRB2K simply due to the fact that it makes it playable offline. I love SRB2 Kart to pieces but the fact that I don't play online very often makes the experience on there not so great, even if there are good singleplayer mods for it. You can only play Time Attack so much before you get sick of it.

Despite everything bad about the game so far, I can tell there's been a lot of effort put into it. The learning curve is awful, yes. The AI is horribly rubber-bandy, yes. But this still feels somewhat solid.

Well, that's my initial thoughts about the game so far. If you held a gun to my head and told me to give a number, I'd at least give it a 6 out of 10, 63* out of 100, a thumbs up recommendation with a caveat, that sort of thing.

Now, what do I think needs to be improved? Hmm, I can think of a few:

Speed levels when lacking/not using rings needs to be increased at least on flat/slightly uneven surfaces.

Separate ring use and item use. Although I'm not sure how badly it'd affect the game if you could do both, I do feel like it'd make items feel less punishing pick up over rings.

Change the first place item roulette somewhat. There's no reason for them to get bumpers even if it's a drop item, it just makes catching up to them even more frustrating than it needs to be.

Tweak the AI a little bit to be less rubberbandy and cheaty. Leave that kind of stuff to the max level bots and nerf the rest.

Special stages need a rework. Having to juggle chasing after the claw and firing weapons at it is very exhausting. Either change how it plays or change the stage layouts.

Alternatively, if one unlocks the special stage for that cup, they should be allowed to continue attempting it as long as they want instead of having to go through the cup again. This isn't SRB2 where you have to keep going even if you don't get the emerald.

Give the player an easier way out of the tutorial. Whether this could be a skip after the basics or a password that could be entered. Heck, with the latter, you could literally have a password that lets you bypass the tutorial during initial setup that you can learn about just after finishing it. Hell, if you need to justify entering a skip tutorial password, the dialogue could change to be all like "Oh, there's already racing data on here. Guess we could just fix up the video and audio inputs then."

At least give us the base colors after initial setup and give us the more exotic colors via unlocks, it'd probably feel at least a little better. For the empty spaces on the unlock board if that were implemented? I dunno... spraycan followers?

The funny SRB2K code (you know the one) needs to unlock something. Something blue and spherical, maybe.

Spindash needs a buff or it needs a general change to how it feels. Right now, it feels very anemic and its use-cases are very situational. Perhaps it can keep you at your top speed for a little bit longer or maybe, if you wanted to implement a skill mechanic, give a more powerful spindash for releasing at the right time.

I'll continue trying it (and maybe switch over to the flatpak as soon as I can for hopefully better performance) because I'm stubborn and the game has some good points. It's got very big shoes to fill, mind, so we'll see if the growing pains are worth it in the end.

Dr. Robotnik's Ring Racers finally dropped. Flatpak wasn't out yet so I did a sneaky and used Lutris to run the windows executable instead (I could've used Steam with Proton probably but, eh, never think of these things.)

My initial hour one impression of it? I like it so far but there's quite a bit to take in. I'd say more but I'd rather not spoil too much right now.

Also haven't had a chance to test performance yet because I booted it up in desktop mode and then played for an hour, whoops.

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

Awesome!! I'm glad you like my sev!! Would you write Sevika x a butch reader? Like a romantic butch that tries to cook her dinners, and take her out, and is protective of her, someone who presents more masc, and does more stereotypical masc things? (Feel free to ignore 💕💕)

This is so very late :') I hope I got everything right! Thanks to @master-sass-blast for the help/putting up with me

There will also be a muscular reader x Sev coming out at some point today

Warnings: kinda suggestive at some points but no smut

Trying to court or woo Sevika is a hassle and often leads to you two butting heads because you both try the same methods. Both of you practically fight for who opens the door first, who pulls out the chairs at the dinner table, etc.  She uses her size/strength against you in most cases, like forcefully keeping the door shut. A good chunk of your first date was spent just outside the restaurant in a standoff of who would go in first

Both of you stood staring at each other with your hands connected on the door handle.

“I got it.” You both said at the same time.

A short, awkward chuckle from your date. Your eyes narrowed on the tightening of her grip and her eyes hardened in turn.

“Really, beautiful. I got it.” You say and take great pleasure in the reddening of her cheeks that she’d blame on the chill in the air. In your short time of knowing her, her stubbornness was a very prominent attribute of her personality.

“Let go of the handle.” All forced pleasantries are gone.

“No.”

You two bicker until someone else eventually needs to use the door. Also at some point of the date, you tell her she gives bottom energy and she nearly spits out her drink

It’d become a running joke after that. Leads to you or her literally shoving the other out of the way to be gentlemanly. You have kicked the back of her knee before just to beat her to the door and she has shoved you so hard you rolled a few times. Both of you always show up to fancy restaurants with torn, dirt stained attire

Further on into your relationship she’d humor you and let you spoil her a little. It’s different when she’s trying to keep appearances in public, but she’d let you hold her chair for her at home and attempt to push it in. She’s an ass about it and digs her heels into the floor to make you struggle some more

At least once a month do you wake her up with kisses just to present flowers to her. You always gift them to her on dates (after a long trial and error of discovering what she wasn’t allergic to, in which she kept teasing and accusing you of being an assassin trying to fucking kill her) but sometimes you surprise her just to see her smile and shake her head at you

Okay but the charm exuding from the both of you when you first met. It would be so thick and make all the people around you blush at your verbal foreplay in the bar

Who doesn’t want to pamper Sevika? Getting up a little early to make her breakfast in bed is a challenge because even while she’s asleep, she’s aware of where you are. A few minutes after you disappear from her arms she’s up and ruining the surprise. A groggy, grumpy Sev will find you in the kitchen and snap “why are you up so early?”

You stifle a smile and a groan of frustration at the sluggish, heavy footsteps approaching the doorway.

“Baby, go back to sleep.” 

“Why are you up so fucking early?” Two arms wrap around your middle, a heavy weight now pressing against the top of your head. 

“It’s not that early.” You lie, reducing your movements to a slow pace so you don’t jostle her.

She gives no response, and after a few minutes of flipping the eggs in silence you feel a gentle breath blowing on your head. Immediately you freeze, your heart squeezing as you feel light snores from above you. She did not…

Indeed, her weight had gotten heavier against your back and the top of your head where her cheek was pressed. Your girl must have been exhausted.

“Sweetie, c’mon let’s get you to bed.” Soft tugging on her arms around your middle had her coming back to the realm of consciousness, just barely since you got away with using a pet name she hated. Sevika tugs you back to bed with her, where you stay and let her hold you so she gets some rest.

Breakfast is put off until noon.

When she’s working on her arm, or playing cards, you make sure she doesn’t forget to eat and bring her leftovers of a meal you cooked for her the day before. You’ll come up beside her and place her plate on the table, kiss her cheek and say “For you, my king.” She’ll smirk at the other guys like ‘yeah, that’s mine.’ and eat every bite, moaning appreciatively because she’s obnoxious like that

Sometimes you go and snatch her cig out of her mouth to take a few hits. It used to annoy her but she’s used to it, knowing when to open her mouth for you to put it back. She’ll also go for another swig of her drink only to find you polished off most of it. You refuse to get your own glass and always use hers (you say it's romantic. she says you're a pain in the ass)

Stealing her clothes. If you two have the same style, she’s always finding the vest she wanted to wear missing. Will literally come up to you and pull it off of you while telling you to stop stealing her shit. Probably starts taking yours as payback and then suddenly you two share a wardrobe

(Thank you MSB for the idea) If you’re into buzzcuts or just want to try out a new style, Sevika can do it for you. She’d actually suggest it because why waste money when she has a razor and scissors right here? If you agree, watch her like a hawk because she’ll take creative liberties. You’re criticizing her after every cut while she tells you to shut up. She’s a little rough, tugging your head this way and that, arguing with you when you point out a flaw, threatening you while pointing the scissors at you subconsciously until you have to push them away

Everyone’s too scared to mess with Sevika, but she knows it’s you they really have to worry about. You’ll take advantage of how they always keep a wary eye on her and use their ignorance to your advantage. She’s honestly the bait and enjoys watching you beat the shit out of someone that she verbally antagonized to the point where you considered them a threat

Sevika would insult people often just to see you get protective and defend her even when she’s clearly in the wrong. She never thought she’d have someone treat her like she’s glass and yet here you are, shoving her behind you when a fight breaks out. It amuses her and makes her want to go down on you at the same time

If you started taking hits though, she’d immediately put a stop to it and probably maim the poor victim of your weird foreplay

[theonewiththefanfics]

Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week.           It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles.            Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.”           Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.”           “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself.           “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?”           Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled.           Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human.           If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes.           “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off.           “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.”           She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?”           “You don’t even know what day it is!”           “Who does in these times?”           Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?”           She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

          With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water.           You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport.           She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork.           “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?”           He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.”            “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.”           He nodded. “Yeah. It does.”           Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?”           “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth.           Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival.           “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.”           She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.”           “You’re allergic!”           “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.”           “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -”           “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.”           With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working.           “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?”           He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.”           Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?”           “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.”           “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.”           “There’s no need for that, Harry.”           His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!”           “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.”           He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.”           “Harry –,”           “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart.           With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry.           “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs.           She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.”           The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces.           “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?”           Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.”           Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.”           Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him.           Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits.           The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much.           All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin.           “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?”           “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.”           Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them.           “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’           “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else.           Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek.           “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “           But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.”           “Then what?”           He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks.           “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?”           “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.”           “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking.           “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“           “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.”           “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?”           “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!”           That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?”           “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.”           Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…”           Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.”           His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?”           “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.”           “How can it confirm something that’s not true?”           “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.”           Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.”           Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!”           “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.”           She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world.           The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh.           “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.”           It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss.           His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!”           Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?”           “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?”           She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?”           “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.”           Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.”           “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk.           “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.”           “That I don’t regret.”           Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers.           “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face.           She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.”           Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.”           “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf.            His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.”           Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.”           And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks           Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’.           “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!”           Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​ @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub​

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :/// 

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

[masterwords]

at the old ball game

Well, @genevievedarcygranger more or less challenged me to write a baseball story and while I had a few ideas...this one felt right.

(Pairing: Hotch/Morgan, Words: ~850, no warnings just cute)

**

Rain out.

It was the fourth of the season for Jack's team. Par for the course, spring showers and all. It was also frustrating to tool around all day expecting to have a baseball game only to get the text an hour prior with the apology. “Sorry, the field is just too muddy. We'll try to reschedule for later this week. Enjoy your evening.” But the problem was that Jack wouldn't enjoy his evening. He'd been patient so far; the first rain out came with tears but the second and third were met with a shrug and “What else can we do tonight?” ...this one was being met with a storm. He kept it quiet, but Derek could see it. He was on the group chat; he was the one who intercepted the transmission.

“Fuck,” he'd muttered to himself when it came through. Hotch looked up from the book he was reading, pushing his glasses up his nose curiously.

“Rained out?” he asked, because it didn't take a profiler to figure that one out. It hadn't stopped raining all day, even though the forecast had called for the evening to dry out. Jack had already been in his uniform for an hour, pacing, double checking his backpack, taking practice swings against both of his fathers' wishes.

“No rain outs when I was a kid,” Derek said, slamming his phone down. “No one cared if we got a little muddy, man. They made us practice and play in all weather.”

“It can be dangerous,” was Hotch's contribution. “Kids sliding in the mud get hurt.”

“Kids get hurt,” Derek replied quickly, and Hotch knew better than to argue. Not over sports with Derek. He took competition seriously, it was one of the things that brought the two of them together in the beginning. “We should take Jack to the park anyway. He can't keep missing reps.”

Hotch glanced at his flannel pants, the pajamas he'd spent the whole day in as if he knew the game would be canceled. He was tired, just coming off of a brutal week of work and fighting off what felt like the beginning of a chest cold so if he sat around in his pjs all day drinking tea and reading, he figured he was more than justified. Did he want to put on clothes and go play in the rain?

Absolutely not.

But he did.

And it was fun. The park was deserted except for a few teenagers who were slipping and sliding on the skate ramps at the far end and the runners who were always diligent about getting their miles in. Otherwise they had the place to themselves.

Their little training sessions with Derek always meant Hotch was running. Derek would toss the ball in the air with one hand and swing with the other, forcing Jack to field it from first base and try to get his dad out before he made it to the base. Hotch could feel the sluggish weight of his legs and the tightness in his chest, he wasn't in game day shape for sure but he gave it his best effort. That turned out to surprise him, he was running fast and not exactly hating the way the mud splashed up the back of his legs behind him as he ran. He was beating Jack at least half the time, his legs warming up to the motions, muscle memory kicking in. The sky let up on them for a brief moment, clouds parting for a splash of sunshine and then darkening again before the downpour. No thunder no danger, Derek insisted, so they continued.

It wasn't a game, but by the end they were all tired and soaking wet and smiling. Jack still got some skills training in, Derek was beaming with pride over Jack's fielding skills and Hotch was happy as a clam just to be with them. What he thought had been a chest cold, he'd discovered over the course of running, had actually been building anxiety in his chest and the minute he let go and smiled into the downpour he felt that tension release. It would come back, it always did, but the reprieve had been nice.

They walked to the car side by side, wet hand in wet hand, with Jack leading the way. His backpack, accentuated by a tall bat on one side, bounced as he clipped along talking excitedly about all of the great plays he made. “Dad, you're fast!” he exclaimed more than once and Derek nudged Hotch, winking at him.

“He's lucky it was you running and not me, huh?”

Hotch stopped and wrinkled his nose, brushing the wet spikes of hair from his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jack wasn't going to complain about another hour on the field running drills while his dads turned it into a speed competition that would inevitably end with both of them too wiped out to cook dinner. Pizza delivery and a movie was in his future. He barely even remembered his game had been cancelled.

[getsethappy21]

7 Amazing Ways to Make Most of the “Me Time”

The need to be going all the time, the need to be functioning each second is seen as productive. If you are not working or putting your energy into something, then it is believed that you are wasting time. Taking out time for “me time activities” may feel a waste where you won’t accomplish anything.

The essentiality of me-time has got lost in this busy world that we live in. To some extent, it is believed to be true that stress and the inability to find time for yourself can have an impact on health as well as psychological state.

Why scheduling “Me-Time” is just as important?

When you take some time off of work, it allows you to decompress, get rid of some stress, and get back to work with a clearer mind and better focus. When you are in a relaxing mode, that is when you get most of your best ideas to work on. It is equally important for you to forget the to-do list and focus on the present.

It is not necessary that you must go on and on and on without taking a pause. Everyone needs a break from routine tasks and stress and indulges in me-time activities. If you feel a bit down or sluggish, you need time to charge your mind and body. This enhances the efficiency of your work.

It is a challenging task to offer your best when you’re not at your best. You give, give, and give but then it gets exhausting and frustrating. Giving back to your family is just as important for which you need to be content with yourself.

When lives are full of to-do lists, it can be challenging to see the forest for the trees. When you have a chance to remove yourself and take a breather, your mind gets clear. With a clear mind, you have more energy, and motivation, and hence, you become more productive.

When you have your own me-time, you learn new things about yourself such as things you love to do or your favorite hobby. You get to embrace your creativity, develop a skill, and feel a sense of accomplishment.

To be clear, “me-time” doesn’t necessarily mean spending a whole day at spa or doing activities to pamper yourself. A few minutes squeezed for yourself should be more than enough. You should find a little time each day to relax, recharge, and revitalize. A little time for yourself is every day is enough to reap the maximum benefits of the Me-Time. But what to do at that time?

Here is a list of fun Me Time activities and ideas which will help you to make the most of your precious time.

1. Unplug

Amidst your busy schedule, find time in the day where you can ban all your electronics, email, and phone calls for a set amount of time. Take a break from social media. Use this time to go out for a walk, read a book, or simply stare out the window.

2. Embrace Your Creativity

Make and create, only for fun and relaxation. You shouldn’t be looking to create something perfect rather let your creativity flow and don’t try to hang up on how it turns out. It is your creativity that matters and not the end result. You may like to try

Journaling

Scrapbooking

Dancing or Singing (As if no one is watching)

Coloring

3. Take Yourself Out For A Meal

Take yourself out for a nice sit-down in your favorite restaurant or cafe. It is revitalizing when you take a break mid-week from the usual routine. Treat yourself with a lavish meal and enjoy with your own self.

4. Take a Nap (My favorite!)

This is one of my first me-time activities because I feel so refreshed after taking a quick nap.

Get under your comfy covers and really rest. Sleep if you have time, or just close your eyes and revel in the fluffy softness.

Taking a nap not only refreshes but it also helps you to enhance your productivity.

Further Reading: Why Sleep Is So Important to Your Health?

5. Call an Old Friend

When you maintain positive relations, it is food for the soul. Take out some time and call a friend with whom you haven’t talked in a while. Relive the good old days and catch up with them.

6. Watch TV

Even though watching TV can be a mindless “guilty pleasure” but it can turn out to be good for you. Watch something you love but you hardly get a chance to indulge in, and really enjoy it. I love to watch LUCIFER over and again when I want to take a break.

7. Maintain Your Journal

It is necessary to write down your feelings, ideas, stresses, dreams — whatever you feel like! It doesn’t have to be a regular thing to serve the purpose. The idea is to take a break from work and indulge in more phone-free activities.

If you are new to journaling, here is how to start journaling?

Closing Words on Me-Time Activities and Ideas

The importance of me-time cannot be ignored. of Taking care of yourself is just as important, though it can leave you guilty. You have to remember that carving out time for yourself is really important for your physical as well as mental health. Taking out time for yourself and indulging in your favorite me-time activities not only add up to a happier family but make you more productive. Not just that me-time is great for healthy relationships in your life. This is one of the best Self-care activities for everyone.

[roger-that-cap]

doubt comes in

orpheus!bucky barnes x fem!eurydice!reader

summary: a retelling of orpheus and eurydice for an extremely late entry for a mythology challenge!!

warnings: uh- yeah i was not playing with this myth lol… fluffy beginning, uh, that’s all imma say about that and ALSO i haven’t edited this so haha, i am running on fumes but had to post this jeez 

word count: 11.3k good god

There were gods that were unexplainably strong. There were some that could bend fire and metal to their will, some that could string up love and cast it upon others, and others that knew more of war and how to win more than they even knew themselves. Others were the faces of glory, like Zeus and Hera and the sun god Apollo and so many others. There were many that were worshipped by humans every day of every week, and others that were forgotten until they were desperately needed. There were some that lived immortal lives and demanded respect from humans and gods alike, and then there were the ones invested in their art, in themselves, in the beauty of life itself.

That was Bucky. He was so immersed in song, in the gift that he had inherited from his mother, Calliope, that it was all he could think about. It was what made him different, it was what made him stand out from the boys that he grew up with that were just plain old strong. He had a talent, he had a mother that was a myth and a legend alike, and he had a lyre. He had a lyre, a lute, his voice, and a bit of speed, and that was all that he would ever need in life. That, and a pretty landscape to look at while he strummed his golden strings. But that was all he ever thought he would need- which was why he was knocked right off of his planted feet when he saw you walk by.

You were a human. You were a beautiful girl, probably the most beautiful being he had ever seen in his entire life. He had met goddesses and nymphs and princesses alike, but never had he met someone who had such a sweet face, such a gentle aura, and even more, a beautiful voice. You had only said a few words to someone else that were delivered with a gentle smile, but he could have sworn that your words were a melody. Before he knew it, your entire being was stamped into his mind, and he knew that he would never be able to forget you.

It was by complete chance that the next day, he decided to wallow in his sadness by a fountain in public, strumming his lyre too quietly for anyone else to hear. Anyone who knew him knew that he was devastatingly off. And coincidentally, the only ones who truly did know Bucky were Steve and Sam, two forest nymphs that had been his best friends since he taught them the ways of the lute years and years ago. They were sitting by him in silence on the marbled fountain, waiting next to him for the second shoe that they doubted would ever drop. But then, like Bucky was a sunflower following the sun itself, his back straightened, his head perked up, and his mouth dropped, his eyes wide and swirling with admiration as he watched you- the same human woman he was enamoured with- walk through the square again, a woven basket full of fresh fruits on your arm and your lilac dress swishing in the wind.

“No way,” he heard Sam mutter, and Steve poked his side.

“You were always such a doubter,” Steve mumbled, but the smile on his face was audible through his tone. “There she is, in the flesh.”

Bucky could hardly hear anything but the soft melody stirring up in his mind, louder than his racing heart, and just as tender as the feelings swirling inside of him. He saw you wave to the older woman you were talking to and then start to walk away, and he knew that he couldn’t let you go, not when the Fates so obviously gave him a second chance. Without a second thought, he slid off of the fountain, leaving his friends and his lyre, striding towards you with the brightest smile, trying to cover the fact that he was nervous.

His clumsy feet were carrying him a little too quickly, and he could hear the snickers of Steve and Sam from behind him. He craned his head backwards to look at them and laugh too, but he tripped over his own left foot, barreling right into you and knocking you flat onto the ground. His half immortal heart beat heavy and hard in his chest as he watched you wince under him. He scrambled up, cheeks flushed and hand shaking as he watched you sit up and brush the dirt off of your dress. He was looking down at you with a look that he prayed wasn’t as desperate as he felt. But he had to know you.

“I’m Orpheus,” he started, and when you turned your bright eyes to him with your brows furrowed, he shook his head like he was trying to get water from his hair. “No, I meant that I was sorry- I’m so sorry. For knocking you over, miss.” He extended his hand to you again, and he swore that he saw your lips quirk up a bit at him. You took his hand and stood up, brushing the fabric of your dress once again. He caught a trail of your scent, and he was immediately overtaken by the scent of fresh flowers and lavender.

That was when he really got a good look at you for the first time. The first time he saw you had been brief. You weren’t even looking anywhere near his way, and he only caught a look at your stunning side profile before you walked away. His vision had been practically blurred from excitement while he walked up to you, and he was so embarrassed about crashing into you that he was subtly trying not to look in your eyes. But… damn, he had been missing out.

He swore that time stopped. His own heart stopped beating, even the sluggish beat leaving for a few moments. The noises from the town square were so dull that they seemed muted. The stares of Steve and Sam felt so far off that he didn’t even notice them. All he knew was that he was utterly entranced by you, and for a second, he could have sworn that by the look in your eyes, you felt the same way. But like the blaring of an alarm, something knocked you both out of it, putting you in the present, with present problems.

“Oh, the fruits,” you muttered, looking at the peaches and apples that tumbled right out of your basket, bending over quickly to collect them despite the fact that they had gotten bruised. Bucky’s heart jumped to his throat with guilt when he realized he had ruined the fruit you had either picked or paid for, and then he was rushing to get them even faster, praying to the gods that you didn’t automatically hate him.

After looking into your eyes, he doubted he could live with himself if you even so much as disliked him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I don’t have the best footing,” he apologized again, gently placing the fruits back into your basket.

“It’s okay,” you said, and your eyes trailed behind him to look at his friends that were howling with laughter, holding onto each other. He saw your displeasure, and his heart dropped when he understood that you probably thought they had sent him over just to mess with you. Your eyes whipped back to Bucky, and he blushed something fierce. He felt his cheeks warm up under your scrutiny, and then there was a smile creeping back onto your face. “I'm Eurydice.”

Oh, Gods. Eurydice. He swore that he had never heard something so beautiful in his life. He had grown up with the Muses, even had a mother as one, and was surrounded by music and poetry and epics every second of his childhood. Music was imprinted in his mind, every note embedded in his everyday life, yet still it was the most beautiful- “But I go by Y/N.” No. Eurydice was now second. But your name, the one he knew you had chosen for yourself, was the most beautiful thing that life had ever offered him to hear.

His brain was going many miles a minute, as quick as Hermes on a mission, but all he could do in the end was blink and offer his true name first, like politeness called for. “I’m Orpheus,” he extended his arm again to you, and you shook it twice. Your hand was soft, so soft that he didn’t want to let go of it. He would never forget the feeling of your hand in his, and the way he swore that the nerves under his skin were alight with the gentlest and sweetest of fires. “You can call me Eurydic- I mean, Bucky. I’m Bucky.”

You could both hear the laughter coming from Bucky’s friends, and while you were cracking a small smile, Bucky was dying on the inside. “You like to be called by other people's names?”

“I wouldn't mind being called by yours,” he blurted softly, his words coming out as a quick and uncalculated slur. He blinked abruptly when he realized that he was truly having the worst first introduction he had ever had in his life, and it was the one that somehow meant the most to him. “I- only because Eurydice is such a pretty- so is Y/N- I… I’m sorry.” He shook his head, knowing that he was so close to just having to walk away. Instead of embarrassing himself further, he just gave you a short smile and waved, turning on his heel.

“I’m Orpheus, then. Maybe Bucky, too.” He slowly turned back around, a shocked look on his face. Had you really spoken to him again with your own free will?

Bucky knew that he wasn’t ugly. No god or demigod was ever ugly, other than poor Hephaestus. He knew that he had his own sort of charm and that he could bring the roughest of people to tears and the saddest of people to joy with his music, but he didn’t know anything else. He had three redeeming qualities that swirled in his head constantly- he was pretty, he had music, and he had a famous mother.

“Are you a singer?”

“Huh?” So much for eloquence.

You bit your lip. “You speak… you speak like you have a song in your heart. Are you a singer?”

He was stumped. Most knew at least of his music if nothing else. He was the most famed god or man to ever strum a lute besides maybe Apollo. Most knew nothing of his personality and nothing about him other than the fact that he was born to play and sing, and you didn’t? Where had you been living? “Well, I’m Orpheus.”

There was a grin on your face, and Bucky knew that he never wanted to see anything other than that for the rest of his life. “And that makes you a singer?”

He opened his mouth again, ready to talk about who he was born from and where he learned to play and who taught him, but when he looked deeper and saw the spark of mischief in your eyes, he leaned back and held back a small smile of his own. His heart fluttered and grew two sizes. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Maybe I don’t,” you said, obvious teasing in your voice, and somehow it still stayed kind. “Maybe I do, and just wanted a free song out of you.”

She knows me, he thought, and his heart may as well have let out a lovesick sigh from within the confines of his chest. She has never heard me sing before, but she will. I’ll sing her a thousand songs.

“I’ll sing you all the songs you desire if you marry me,” he blurted, and while his mind was scolding him for uttering those words so quickly, his heart was steady on beating and so sure of itself that he told his mind off.

To his subtle surprise, you didn’t look shocked. You weren’t disgusted by his rather bold approach and most importantly, you weren’t laughing at him. He held onto your silence in limbo, waiting for you to say something that would either crush him to bits or send his soul rising so high that he reached the cloudy gates of Olympus.

“If you can make me a song that can make the skies open up and weep without singing a word, then I’ll marry you.”

His heart soared. His hands shook. He could have sworn that even his toes clenched. But all you could see were his wide, boyish eyes, and the hopeful look that dawned across his face. He nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything.”

He saw your lips pull up into a smile, genuine and even a little shy, and he couldn’t help but want to step closer. But he knew he had already been up front and abrupt, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your own head slowly. “I’ll see you soon, then, Bucky.” You took a step back, eyes still connected to his blue ones until you finally turned around and walked away with the same basket on your arm, same dress swaying with the tuneless song of the wind.

The three of them stood in silence, watching you walk away, taking pieces of Bucky’s heart with you in your cradled arms. The bustling of the town was loud, moving about like nothing of significance had happened right where they were all standing, and Bucky found it nothing short of insane. Did no one else just see how the world stopped turning for that one girl? How the Fates put a pause on the clock just so that they could meet?

Steve’s voice brought him out of it. “Did you just ask for her hand in marriage?”

He didn’t even have the energy to shrug. All the swirled in his mind was love, passion, music, and you. You, you, you. “I had to.”

“How will you even find her again?” Steve asked, his logic once again being the only thing that held Bucky down to the ground.

“I know the work of Eros when I see it,” Sam said to Steve, shaking his head somewhat fondly at the pale boy with brunette hair who was still staring off in the direction you left in, like you would miraculously appear again. “They’ll find each other again soon enough.”

The hours went by and then the daylight turned into night and back to day again, and Sam’s words couldn’t have been truer. Your spirit and your face and your voice found Bucky with every few seconds that passed by. He couldn’t blink without seeing you. He couldn’t listen to anyone without hearing you. He couldn’t breathe without smelling your beautiful scent. Everything tasted bland, looked plain, and sounded like white noise after he met you. He knew that until his last (and unlikely) breath, his heart would ache for nothing more than to be yours. He wanted his ring to be on your finger, and yours to be on his.

So he began to make a song.

§§§

He worked tirelessly. The hours below the sun that used to be spent laughing and playing with Steve and Sam were exchanged for hours of composing. His normally perfect posture was hunched over as he tried to find the melody that had stirred in his heart when he first saw you- because he knew that was it.

By the end of twelve days of pure struggling, most of the song was finished. He was a fast worker, so fast that it made everyone else’s heads spin, but he felt it was going too slowly. But then again, he was fast at everything. The melody was as stuck with him as his skin was to his body. He was sure that it would never leave him, even if he wrote a thousand more songs. And part of him never wanted it to go, because it was so you.

He had only held one conversation with you, and it wasn’t long enough, but he felt like he had known you for years. He felt like he had sung to you hundreds of times and danced with you a hundred times more. Your soul felt so familiar yet so foreign that he had to chase after you, and had to discover anything that he could have missed. He knew that you were his destiny, and he had a feeling that you knew he was yours.

The song he was writing wasn’t sad, but it brought tears to his eyes all the same. It wasn’t about longing or loss or chasing after something that would never come to you, but it made Steve and Sam wipe their eyes all the same. It was about your beauty, your inherent wit and kindness, and the way that you set his soul free from chains he didn’t even know of. It was about a love he had never dreamed of finding or even thought to be true, and that was enough to make the three of them weep.

“I think it’s finished, Buck.” This came from Steve after he wiped his eyes again, sitting through the full song again even though his heart aches for a love he had never felt before. “Sam thought it was done days ago.”

Sam had left the two of them alone days ago, claiming that he couldn’t stand to hear the melody and cry each time, claiming that it was beautiful but too much. It made sense. Even Bucky himself was starting to feel the effects of it. But Steve was a stubborn thing, and he would sit through it for as long as Bucky would play it.

“You think it’s enough to make the skies open and cry?” Bucky breathed out, loosely quoting the words he had heard from you not too long ago.

“Even if it’s not, it will surely win her over,” Steve said. “She was already wooed by you, you’re a fool not to see it. She was excited enough that you even agreed to make the song in the first place, anyway.”

Bucky sat there for a few minutes as his fingers tingled, expecting to be used again to pluck the magnificent strings. But he set his instrument down on the log he sat on, sighing and placing a hand under his chin, his thoughts trailing over to you for the thousandth time. “I hope she accepts it.”

Steve just looked at him. “I think that if you came empty handed and told her half of the words you tell me and Sam, she’d follow you anywhere.”

Steve was right. Steve had to have been right, or he was going to wilt right in front of you. He had to be. The brunet nodded, biting his pink lip before opening his mouth again. “Where do you think I’ll find her?”

§§§

It didn’t take long to find you at all. Bucky went to find you alone, finding you because something inside of him told him to search the flowering fields nearby, and there you were. There was a hat made of straw over your head to cover your eyes and face from the sun, and you had the same basket on your arm that you had the other days. It was empty this time, and he had no doubt that you were looking at the flowers for fun before going to look for fruit. He couldn't help but smile fondly at you from across the field, and then he was gripping his lyre and taking a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice full of emotion instead of being the strong sound he wanted it to be. Nonetheless, it caught your attention, and then your pretty eyes were wide on him. Immediately, your feet turned in his direction and you made your way across the meadow, and he followed suit. He met you in the middle, so nervous that the grin that was deep inside of him wasn’t coming out at all.

You were both at a loss for words as you stood close to each other. His hands shook at his sides, aching to hold your hands in his. He wondered if they were as soft as your voice, or as smooth as the petals flowers you admired. “You came?”

He blinked. Of course he did. It was all he could think of doing. “My only regret is not coming sooner,” he admitted, and he watched you angle your eyes downwards, and he smiled at your shyness. “Would you like to hear it?”

Your eyes were connecting with his again, and he could have sworn that your smile could have put him in an early grave. He was momentarily stunned by you and your brightness, so stunned that he hardly even heard what you said. “Of course I would.”

“So then you’ll hear it,” he said softly, his heart and mind completely taken over by you in your presence. He fixed his lyre into position, his fingers already fixed into the correct spots as he began to play your song.

His eyes were shut as he strummed just as he had practiced thousands of times, but he knew it felt different. His body was buzzing with excitement and something else he couldn’t identify, but he loved it. It made him play stronger. His eyes shut even more as he felt the music, swaying side to side a bit as he felt his heart open up to you, finally content with you hearing the song.

He didn’t even realize that he was done until all he could hear was quiet sniffles. He pried his left eye open, almost too scared to look for your reaction, but when he saw that you were just looking up at him with watery eyes and a wobbly smile, he opened his other eye, ready to spring into action.

The only thought going through his mind was that it was impossible that you liked it. The way you were looking at him reminded him of the way people looked at sculptures of ancient monsters— a muted type of awe, but also a sense of discomfort. He brought you to tears, and not in the way he wanted to. He ruined it.

“I- was it bad?” He blurted out, and he cursed himself at ruining his own chance. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t like it-”

“How long have you been playing that song?”

You were too beautiful. Too gentle. You were melting his brain into mush, and he doubted that he would be able to pick up his lyre for another round even if you begged him. “I… I just made it. For you, I made it with you in mind.”

Your facial expression didn’t change. “Where’s the ring?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The rings we’re going to wear when we wed,” you said, almost teasing. “Do you have them?”

His eyes widened. “You want to marry me?” He asked, leaning forward a bit in shock. “The sky didn’t- the rain never came.”

“I cried,” you said, a small smile on your face. You still hadn’t wiped your tears, and he watched them frozen on your face, stuck in time. “I didn’t expect the work of the gods. I just wanted you to play for me.”

He was bewildered. He had half of the mind to ask you if you truly meant it again, but he took his excitement and ran with it. “And you… you feel this too?”

You took his right hand into yours, and he swore that his souls ascended to the gates of Olympus and waltzed right in. “I felt it the second I saw you, Bucky.”

He blushed something fierce before looking down at the ground, shame overtaking his sheer admiration for you. “There’s something I should tell you before you say you want to be with me.”

“Tell me anything,” you encouraged softly, one of your hands coming up to brush his warm cheek.

“I don’t have much.”

And he didn’t. He had Sam and Steve and a nomadic lifestyle. He never stayed in the same place for long, and he didn’t have a roof over his head. He didn’t need one. Rain and wind and fire didn’t bother him. He preferred to live under the canopy of trees and the protection of nature. But he knew humans didn’t. He knew humans— especially women— liked when their partners brought things to the table, and he had nothing but strings and whistles. He had nothing materialistic. He had no gems, no coins, no house, and fancy clothes— nothing money could buy. But he looked at you and saw that you deserved it all, and even more he saw that he had no way to even provide it for you.

“I live in many different places, I don’t have a home. I don’t have money. I don’t have… I can’t buy you dresses or shoes or any of the stuff you would probably like… and I’m sorry. I know that will probably change everything, but I just wanted you to know.”

You took a step forward, strong and secure, and then your chin was tilted upwards. “Like I said, where are the rings?”

Bucky grinned.

§§§

The day of your wedding was blessed by the gods, whether they admitted it or not. You married each other in the meadow Bucky found you in with a small crowd of people, and when you kissed as man and wife, peace washed over the both of you, and it felt like your marriage had been approved by all far and wide. The kiss that you shared to make the wedding official was short and sweet and full of the most innocent of passion, and he felt so adored by the soft touch of your lips that he felt a singular tear cross the terrain of his pale face for the first time in years.

He didn’t even deny it.

He didn’t deny the way that you danced together was perfect. He had never guided you, had hardly even danced with another woman, but it was perfect. It was like he had practiced with you before a hundred times, and the feel of your hands in his was what kept him sane. He was convinced that you could do anything new with him and it would feel like you had done it before, just because you were so familiar to him as a whole.

He had known you for what felt like seconds in the grand scheme of things, but you knew him inside out and he knew you better than he knew himself. He could find you in the dark, you could identify him with just a whisper of his voice, and he could fall in love with you over and over without even touching you. He would perform the Sisyphean task of falling in love with you over and over again if it meant that he could be next to you.

And luckily, it turned out that you didn’t need the things that Bucky was sure you were going to. He got you a small house just for the two of you to come back to, and he still roamed around in the area. Steve and Sam would walk off and come back weeks later, just like they used to when it was the three of them together. And there would Bucky be, at the house he made possible for you, and happier than ever.

Bucky lived an extremely modest life with you, and he liked it. Farming and getting water from wells and working for the food that was on your tables, cutting wood to feed the flames in the pit in the middle of your main room. Life was somewhat repetitive, so repetitive that he was scared he would lose you to your wild imagination and beautiful, adventurous heart. But it had never been as fulfilling as it was with you.

The little things were what made his day. It was waking up with you at his side, tucked into his arms and still sleeping soundly while he made songs up in his head dedicated to you that made him smile. It was listening to you hum to yourself while you washed corn and peaches and squash in the buckets of water you had carried down the hill that served as your property. It was the way you would pull him out of a funk by taking his hand and leading him out of his chair, dancing to music that didn’t exist, or the way you would coax him to sing to the moon because you wanted a longer night. A longer night meant more time spent with each other.

When you woke up after your long nights, sometimes you would coax him out of bed for some daily challenge, a challenge that usually he would end up beating you at. Part of him believed that you just wanted him to show off, but you always said otherwise. You would challenge him in singing only to have him go first and not even sing, claiming you had already lost. You would tell him you wanted to race him to the stream and back, knowing that you would lose by a long shot. He could run circles around you if he hardly tried, and that was just in his godly blood. But there was never any jealousy, never any animosity, never any bitterness. It was all just sweet, it felt.

You were just so magical. It was so simple, the things that made him happy, but he knew that just one call from your soul to his was more than just communication. He craved it. He knew from the moment that he met you that his soul would always seek yours, even into the afterlife. He knew that every day with you would be as beautiful as you were on your wedding day, shining brighter than any gem or any star in the night sky. And none of it would ever change.

§§

Things changed. Just as the sun rose and set, so did time. It cranked on without a single hint of Bucky aging, and you were still as youthful as you were the three years prior. Life was still beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

You had traveled around the world with him, kissed in so many different cities with different kings and different cultures and different music. You had met so many different people, lived so many different lives, just to go back home and settle there. It was wonderful. He loved you, and you loved him. It was the kind of love that was never at risk of fading or thawing away. It was the kind of love that was only spurned on as the years crawled by, the days acting as twigs added to an already strong fire. It was such a beautiful thing that he had with you, and every day with you felt like one that was blessed by the gods themselves.

Until it didn’t.

Bucky had never felt fear in his heart like he did when he heard your scream travel across the meadow. He didn’t even put on his shoes before tearing off to find you, torn between begging you to make another sound so that he could hear you or pleading the gods to make the sound of your distress stop and never happen again. His chest rose and fell with the exertion, and he knew that he had never been so afraid in his life.

The scream was all that echoed in his mind when he ran through the woods, and as he stumbled upon fallen fruits and flowers that he just knew were yours. He realized he was at the end of a ravine almost too late, and when he looked down, following the steep curve of the slope with wary and partially-knowing eyes, he immediately doubled over.

There you were in all your fallen glory, legs bent unnaturally and neck twisted even worse. The light yellow of your dress was stained with brown and dark green, and in some places a deep red that made him sick to his stomach. Your eyes were looking up at the sky, staring right into the sun as it shone down on your figure, taunting him just like the breeze that began to make your dress look so lively.

Bucky fell to his knees right on the edge of the ravine, his heart not even lurching when he lost his balance. An arm reached out to you, like it was stuck in the moment before you fell and he could reach you. Tears were coming down his face slowly, steadily as he fought to get breaths in. He called your name.

He didn’t know how many times he called your name, or how far the sadness in it traveled. It must have been loud and long enough, because before he knew it, there were hands on his shoulders. They were warm and familiar and even the smallest bit comforting in that moment, but not enough. He wanted your hands.

“Let’s get away from the edge, Buck.” It was Steve’s voice, strong and gentle and the backbone of the situation. Bucky’s eyes pried open at the feeling of Steve’s sturdy hands pulling him backwards, and he retched in his mouth at the sight of your broken, soulless body at the bottom. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten so close to it himself.

“I’ll go down to…” Sam started, trailing off with a soft and distraught look on his face when he caught sight of Bucky again, and Steve nodded at him.

“Let’s get you up, Buck. Up and Washed off.” He hadn't even realized he was dirty at all. His hands were covered in dirt and under his fingernails were the same earthy brown he was used to. He had been pulling up grass from where he grieved without even noticing.

His sobs were so loud that they hurt Steve’s ears. His dragging steps were causing such a disturbance to the land around him that animals seemed to crane their necks at him and cast their glances his way, as if wondering how on earth a person could be that distressed. His mouth was moving, but it looked and sounded more like babbling and trembling as waterfalls came down the canvas of his pale skin.

“Buck, you have to calm down. You’re about to have an attack.”

He didn’t know if he meant heart attack or a panic attack, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were dead, all twisted up at the bottom of a ravine. Your soul had left the earth, left your body, and you were just laying there like you had never been alive. Like you had never held his hand, or kissed his cheek, or wore his ring or laughed or sang or read fine poetry while eating the fruits you had picked. Seeing you down there with your open and dim eyes felt like you had never lived at all.

“Keep walking with me, buddy. You’re going to be just fine.”

But he wasn’t. Every step he took away from you made bile come up in his throat. He wanted to be as far away from your lifeless body as possible, but he didn’t want to ever let you go. He wanted to hold you close to him until it felt like you were alive again. But as his heart beat seemed to freeze up but race like a horse all the same, he realized that you would never be alive again. You were only as alive as your last few moments, whether they were filled with the joy and freedom of having the wind on your face or the fear of falling. He could do nothing to change it.

But he would try to do everything.

§§

He spoke to everything and nothing. Steve and Sam would take turns coming to him after they celebrated your life. It reminded Bucky of the way that his mothers friends used to come watch him while his mother was off and away somewhere, and how it felt like they thought of him as a cute little burden. He knew deep down that his friends cared for him more than anything and that he cared about them just as much, but he couldn’t think about anything but you. He wouldn’t.

It was a service that made the skies open just like you said they would for his voice. The day lilies that surrounded you and Bucky seemed to be weeping with him. The wind came from east to west and west to east, spinning around and throwing in the scent of the flower with the smell of oncoming rain, reflecting the turmoil he was feeling on the inside. He could have sworn that the earth had trembled just like his hands that held your cold and still ones. But if the world had caved down under him at that moment, he wouldn’t have moved. He wouldn’t have opened his mouth to scream, or even say a word. He would have only held your hand tighter.

He spoke to the moon more often than he did Steve and Sam. They hovered, but it was the kind of hovering that Bucky felt he would appreciate sooner or later. He would sit every night and talk to the moon with his legs pulled into his chest, small and in such a vulnerable position that it would have made him feel uncomfortable at any other time. But he was vulnerable. He had been knocked off of his feet and winded. The world kicked him while he was down more times than he could count, and they had opened his chest and peeked right into his heart before seeing it was unworthy and walking away from him. It left him bleeding out in the forest while he listened to the birds eventually go on back to chirping, and watched the flowers push through and grow, and people laugh and smile and talk like nothing changed.

He was doing just that. He was lying in the flowering fields that he would always swear belonged to you, the both of you, when he heard soft footsteps. He didn’t care to look up. He knew it wasn’t Steve or Sam, but why would he care? He had nothing to be scared of now that you were gone.

“You’re Orpheus.” It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t even blink, but an annoyance he couldn’t shake bubbled up inside of him at hearing the name his mother granted him coming from a stranger. As much as he wanted complete silence, he couldn’t help but say- “Bu- sure. I’m Orpheus.”

“Everyone heard, you know.” The voice was of an old, frail woman. Bucky knew that without even looking, He ignored the fact that pity was strong in her voice, and that he knew exactly what she was talking about. He ignored the way he knew that she thought that she had the right to talk about his wife, about the way he had lost you far too soon. She knew nothing. But he let her speak. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say a word. He didn't even recognize words as an option. He would stay silent and wait until she left. Maybe if he was quiet enough or stared up at the sky in such a still manner that it scared her, she would leave him. If he pretended to be as dead as he felt, he was sure she would leave.

“There hasn’t been a good song since you’ve stopped playing.” He heard rustling, and then he dared to look off to the side to see the old woman struggling to sit, cane wobbling in her hand as she finally plopped her frail bones onto the ground near him. He sighed heavily and looked back up to the sky. “You know, you’ve gotta be the most moving musician to ever walk the earth, from both god and man.”

It was a compliment that would have had him blushing years ago. It would have had his young mind fumbling for his lute or lyre and clearing his godly voice, asking if she wanted to sing with him or just listen. Now, it incited nothing. It meant nothing. “I doubt I’ll ever play again.”

“You pleased god and man,” the old woman carried on, almost like she had never heard him open to speak with that raspy voice of his that was so uncharacteristic of him that it hurt to hear. “Anyone would have done anything to hear your music.”

He finally turned to the side to look the old woman in her face, and he blinked at her. “I’m grieving.”

“You could persuade anyone with seven strings and five notes, don’t you understand that?” Her voice was almost angry. It was hard and nearly pleading, so different from her previous tone that Bucky snapped his head her way. “If I were you, I would have been at Death’s gates.”

They were staring at each other. Bucky was looking at the decrepit woman with curly gray hair that looked like she had dodged a visit to the Gates of Death herself more than once with shocked eyes. His heart started to beat again, like her words were arousing some kind of vicious hope that he never even knew could exist.

“The gods blessed your union. They won’t ever say, but they did bless your marriage. What makes you think that if you beg, you won’t get a blessed reunion as well?”

She disappeared within seconds of her final words, leaving a revelation swirling around in his mind and haunting his every thought.

§§

His feet ached. His hands were beginning to blister from stroking the strings of his tired lyre, and his throat was even beginning to strain. He had been singing for hours, pouring his heart out at the hidden gates of the Underworld, begging for an audience. But above all the physical pain ranked the ache in his heart, the unbearable feeling of your death sitting on his shoulders and ripping him apart from the inside. His grief was destroying him.

Hades might as well have had ears plugged up with the same wax that was used by Odysseus and his men. Usually he went undisputed, because just as life was certain, so was death. There was no questioning the decision of it, or the Fates, or the rule of Hades and his acceptance of his dear Eurydice into his kingdom. Everyone was allowed to plead and beg, but no one ever went down to the gates of the Underworld to ask for the release of a loved one, whether they were man or god. But there he was, standing in dirtied pants with fingertips plucked pink, and tears running down his face.

He didn’t know if he would ever gain the strength to leave. He didn’t know what he would do if someone even bothered to humor him. He wasn’t going to be able to have you back. He was never going to be able to bring you back up above, have you under the sun and shining beautifully like you were born to do. What would he beg of them? For them to let him see that your soul ended up in the Asphodel Meadows? For them to let him hold you one last time before you drank from the Lethe and forgot everything that happened? What if you had already drank from it? Each thought made his stomach lurch more, and his music grew louder and more desperate, like the final battle cry of a warrior.

His back was up against a tree as he sang out again in the night, praying for someone to hear him and take pity on his poor soul. Strike me down and send me with her, if you cannot give me the gift of seeing her again. The same tears that had been steadily pouring down his face were gathered in a puddle at his unmoving feet, yet he didn’t mind. He couldn’t.

“You have woken my wife.”

Bucky’s playing stopped immediately. “What?”

The man before him was dark. He was tall and seemed to take up almost the entire space even though he was only a bit wider than Bucky. His shoulders were broad and his chin was strong, and his eyes were sharp even under the gloomy look they had to them. His cheekbones were sunken in and his eyes had a ring of black around them, like he hadn’t slept in a thousand years. His lips were set in a hard line, but he didn’t look displeased. Most notably, he had a dark aura surrounding him, even black most coming from behind him and nearly encasing him.

“I don’t repeat myself, and luckily, it looks like you heard me the first time.” His voice was deep, enthralling, like a song that Bucky would never dare write himself.

What was a man this terrifying, this powerful, doing in the forest? How had Bucky woken a soul when he was in soulless territory? He hadn’t seen houses for leagues.

Something inside of Bucky begged him to apologize. It begged him to get into his knees and look downwards towards the growing grass and hope to be spared. If this was before he lost you, maybe he would have listened to it. But what did he have to truly live for now that his darling was gone?

“I’m sorry to have brought you out of your dwellings because of my grieving.”

There was a certain kind of silence that would have made Bucky’s skin crawl if he even dared to look the being’s way. “Grieving?”

“My wife.” He breathed out, finally letting his arms loose as he let his trust lyre fall down to his side. “She… has fallen prey to death.”

“Ah,” the man said, his voice nearly a scoff. “I see. The circle of life.”

“And now my life shall go in circles, on and on and down the same miserable path without the woman I love,” Bucky stated, resting his head back against the tree. “I wish I knew a man that grieved. Me… I live amongst gods. We don’t grieve. We don’t die. I have never met a man who had an inch of grief in his heart. I feel like the first to ever feel it.”

“We can lose people in other ways than death,” the man said. “Death is the most absolute, but it seems to hurt a lot less than voluntary abandonment.”

“This is my first brush with death, and I have to admit that I’m not the biggest fan.” What an understatement.

“That’s a shame. My wife is quite the fan of you and your… grief. She says it’s the most moving thing she’s ever heard.” Bucky just nodded, eyes far off. “She wants to meet you.”

“I don’t really want to meet anyone.”

“You don’t want to see my wife? You don’t want a two way ticket to the world you’ve been singing about taking passage to for days now, Orpheus?”

His head turned slowly, eyes widening as he tried to piece thoughts and facts together with his sluggish mind. “What?” But he knew. He knew with another glance at this man that he was no man at all, but one of the original gods. He was Hades, in the divine flesh, standing right before him with a glint in his eyes that meant he was satisfied by Bucky’s shock. He went to his knees, kneeling as a sob piled up into his throat.

“Your Excellency,” he began to plead, recalling back to the times he was a young god, listening to his mother explaining the way that he should speak to all the gods who came before him- especially one as powerful as Hades. “I apologize. My mind is not set right— the loss of my wife has taken a toll on me. Please forgive me.”

“Your grief blinds you.”

There was no point in lying. “It does.”

“I, too, was blinded by grief. In fact, it happens every other six months, though I suppose you young gods and humans call it winter and fall. My wife would leave, gone with a stroke of wind and then come back only to wilt again. But she, just like your own wife, will learn that there is nothing we can do about the situations we are in. Destiny will have us where she has us, and your Eurydice’s path above has ended.”

Bucky wanted to scream at him. He wanted to refuse him and tell him that Destiny and the Fates would have to bend to his will, because there was no other way. He couldn’t last another day without you, let alone a lifetime. But the god he was speaking to was Hades, and Bucky was just Orpheus, a low level demigod.

“However, my wife still wants to meet you. She wants to hear your song clearly, where it’s not muffled by distance.” His heart began to race. His hands were shaking. His eyes were wide as he tried to take in a deep breath, waiting for the gloomy god’s next words. “If you agree to see her and play her that song of yours, I’ll let you see this wife you speak of. Does that sound fair?”

Nodding was all Bucky could do to stay awake.

§§

The Underworld was just as gloomy as it was in the stories. Black and grey ran together to create a shadowy world, dismal and dark. It was full of strange sounds, like the whistling of thick wind that almost sounded like wailing humans. The air was so heavy that Bucky was finding it hard to breathe, and there was a mist so hard to cut through that Bucky could hardly see more than three feet in front of him at a time. Hades led him, and the only reason he could see him was because of his true height showing, and the fact that his dark smoke was even darker than the mist.

His hands shook. Both of them held onto his lyre for dear life. It was close to his chest, strings facing away from him, but still it felt like he could feel the vibrations of it, like the air was mocking him back by playing a song of its own. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and fall to his knees, the environment putting him in near shock.

But he had to find you.

Hades stopped in his tracks, turning his sunken face towards Bucky, who had to fight to not flinch. “If you play for my wife and she likes it, I’ll take you to see yours.” He nodded his head quickly, putting his lyre into position, his arms trembling with anxiety. The double doors opened without the old god even touching them, and then Bucky was faced with an ancient throne room, elegant and dark all the same.

The first thing he did once he got near the sitting Queen of the Underworld was kneel. Tears were already swirling in his eyes, and his throat was lurching. If he were a human, he was sure that he would have been throwing up. He prayed silently to his mother, calling upon the strength of the Muses and their talents into his blood once more.

It was silent until the queen finally spoke. “So you’re the musician?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“I expected you to be much older,” she said, her soft voice a plain contrast from her husband’s, and the dark setting of the Underworld. And then, Bucky understood that the stories weren’t embellished. At first thought, she didn’t seem to belong down there, least of all with Hades. He didn’t dare look up at either of them. “Your grief seems to be centuries old.” It felt like it was. The hole in his heart felt older than he was.

“This is Orpheus, son of Calliope,” Hades explained. “He can’t be more than a few thousand years, if I remember correctly.”

“Young, very young.” Persephone mused, the tone of her voice almost curious. “And what causes you to play this song?”

He explained it. He explained all of it. Your death, his need to see you, his stupid hope of bringing you back home where you belonged. He left it all on the table for them both to hear, even though he knew that the odds were unlikely for him. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if he got ridiculed or thrown back out of the gate, all that mattered to him was that he tried his hardest to get you. And that you knew, deep down in your forgotten mind, that he tried.

“Your music has moved me so, truly.” Persephone said, and then Bucky looked up. She was beautiful, flowers all over her body. She was the brightest thing down there, no doubt, and she still had that godly glow that all the other gods had, a golden rim around her body. She turned her face toward her husband without taking her eyes off of Bucky. “And I want to give you a chance.”

Bucky’s heart stopped. “Your Excellency?”

She was facing Hades now. “Give him a condition.” She muttered, her hands gripping the arms of the throne she sat on. “But let him try.”

Hades frowned. “If I let her go, how many humans do you think will hear of this tale and try to do the same?”

“None.” The goddess answered quickly. “They’re afraid of you. This boy is not. And unlike gods, humans accept death. They know that it is a part of the cycle, and they wouldn’t dare dispute it. This is just a confused young god. He hasn’t seen death before. This will be the only time anyone will ever ask this of you, Hades.”

It was pure silence. It seemed to stretch on for eons as Hades contemplated his wife’s words. The lyre had fallen to the ground minutes before, and Bucky felt himself reaching for it. Tears were streaming down his face now. “I’ll play for you again. I’ll play for you for a decade straight if you let me take her home at the end, if you let her remember me.” He added desperately, body trembling with anticipation.

Hades had dark eyes, and those dark eyes were full of uncertainty and something close to anger while he stared at Bucky, with a look on his face that was so blank that it frightened him. His wife’s hand was on his chest as she pleaded with him on Bucky’s behalf, yet he only stared Bucky down.

“If you can walk your way out of my domain without turning back to look at her, you can take her with you above ground.” Bucky sobbed. “If you look back, boy, she stays in the Asphodel Meadows.”

Bucky sobbed again.

§§

His back faced everything. He couldn’t hear anything except for the beating of his own heart, the heartbeat that seemed to extend all the way down to the fingertips that gripped the infamous lyre in his hand. He shook with every breath, and every blink was harsh on his eyes as he tried not to cry.

He wished he could hear you. He wished he could hear your soft voice reassure him, tell him that you remembered everything, that you were right behind him and that you would follow him everywhere, just like he would follow you. Just like he had followed you. He wished he could hear you.

He wished he could feel you. If your warm hands could just ghost over his shoulders and push him forward without quite letting go, he would have made the trek a thousand times. If he could feel your hands brushing away the hair out of his line of sight, he would have been walking before Hades even gave permission. He wished he could feel you.

He couldn’t. But he would walk anyway.

He hardly heard Hades give permission, his ominous tone echoing through the otherwise empty cavernous area, or the sound of Persephone’s whispers. But he could feel it in the air, suffocating and burying him.

Every lift of his foot was agonizing, every step far heavier than he ever imagined he could bear. But he would do it for you. He would push. Every whisper of doubt that crossed his mind, he would throw away.

It didn’t matter that at times, he wasn’t sure if you got what you needed from him. It didn’t matter that he felt like you weren’t fulfilled by the life you had with him. He had faith. It dwindled with every step, but he had faith. He would keep it and nurture it with every breath he had inside of him on the long journey back home.

Seconds started to feel like minutes, and minutes started to feel like hours. He hated it. His throat was closing in on itself like his voice was his enemy, like the voice everyone thought was so golden was the voice that would be the final nail in his coffin.

His feet were still aching, but the ache had become dull. Louder and more painful was the feeling of the cold biting his skin, like it was a reminder to stay conscious, to stay alert and thinking. Thinking was his vice and virtue. The silence was too loud. His mind was in pain, his heart even worse as he started to feel like the cold was his antagonizer. It was cold up above. It was in the cold where you suffered the most, where you struggled to stay positive. It was in the cold where he could hardly provide for you. It was in the cold where he had to hold you so close to him that air didn’t stand a chance between the two of you because every other man had already chopped the good wood.

But at the same time, he began to feel warm. It felt so warm to his skin that it felt like he was about to step into Tartarus. And it was in the warmth that you dressed in that pretty, short dress that got you harassed by men without humanity. It was in the summer that he found he couldn’t defend you. It was in the summer that he had a flash of realization that he wasn’t strong enough. It was in the summer that he got an even more fleeting flash of the thought that he wasn’t enough at all.

It was in the spring, in the months where there was sun and soft breezes, that he realized again that he was of no help. He had gotten a job one spring that was honest work, but brought in a lot less for the household than you did. He was working with the hands that were already calloused over to help men far more experienced than him craft things to sell to the town. He worked hard to come home tired just to know deep down that for all his work, he had not much more than chump change and a positive outlook to his name.

It was one autumn that he realized how much he had failed you, and he swept it under the rug like he did every other season. One autumn, he walked in on you crying in the arms of your friend- the local plum vendor that Bucky always used to buy from- about how you were terrified of being pregnant. As he walked through the Underworld, he asked himself how he could have ever forgotten that moment. Because what you said had shaken his heart to the core.

“There’s no way I would be able to take care of it.”

It wasn’t the certain doubt that was plants in your mind. It wasn’t the fact that neither of you had noticed Bucky hovering in the door because you were sobbing so hard. It wasn’t the way the woman comforted you better than he thought he was ever able to- because with him, you just never addressed the bad. It was as swept under the rug as dirt was. It was the way you said “I”. Alone. By yourself. Him and his contributions weren’t even in the picture. Were they even contributions?

It was never his voice that was his greatest feature and his worst. It was his mind. His mind was his killer. His mind was a killer, his poison and his weapon, and he was turning it right onto himself. His legs trembled as he fought the urge to look, to crane his neck and get his disappointment over with. Were you following him? Did you even remember him- or had you already drank from the river that would steal all of the life that you had before? Had Hades tricked him into leaving quietly?

And if you did remember him, why on earth would you follow him? You would be following him back to a land that was full of struggle and making it through day by day. You would be trudging after him this time only for him to bring up the rear in everything else. He would be the one smiling at you after you came from working to the bone, providing for him and yourself. That was all he ever had to offer, a smile and a song. What could he truly trade for a smile and a song? What could he get you?

Nothing.

What could he do if you got hurt again?

Nothing.

What could he do with his life when he surfaced and found you not there, far behind in the Underworld?

Nothing.

The doubt piled up. It replaced the faith like the faith was a forest and doubt was a wildfire. Every footstep added to it. He was convinced. He was sure that the result of him turning around at that one moment could be no worse than him turning around when he got to be above ground and away from the suffocating death. You weren’t going to be there. Whether he turned right then or in a hundred years, you weren’t going to be there. If you were in your right, beautiful mind, you would have seen him begging and turned your eyes from him and pretended like you hadn't known him.

He couldn’t tell where he was. His breathing was too shaky for him to think about anything else but breathing and thinking about you. It was too dark. His feet hadn’t touched grass yet and he knew he had to try to keep pushing, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He was bursting at the seams to confirm something that he already knew was coming for him.

His feet dragged. His steps sped up but it felt like he was fighting quicksand. He was struggling to walk through it, fighting to take breaths in it. The shallow breaths were somehow pitched high, bouncing off of the rocky, cavernous walls he began to hate. The only thing on his mind was doubt, doubt, doubt. It was a fever he couldn’t sweat out. A tremor he couldn’t shake away. A dark color he couldn’t paint over. A shadow he couldn’t run from. And just when he couldn’t fight it anymore, he saw light.

He never ran so fast in his entire life. He wanted to escape the feeling clawing at his throat and chest, the dread and preparation for pure disappointment. He wanted to step into the light, step into something he knew, before he allowed himself to collapse in grief again. It felt like the light was getting closer, and then it would fade again and come back lighter. He didn’t register the sound of sobbing until the sound faded out and stopped echoing, and then he was aware that his feet were touching the grass.

His feet were touching grass.

His hands shook as he raised them to his face, cupping his cheeks as he came to the realization that he was out of the nightmare that was the Underworld. Emotions were rushing into him faster than he could understand what they were, and then his mind stopped. His face was dry. His head whipped around.

Your eyes were wide and watery. Your dress was torn and bloody, just like it was when you had died. Your hair was a mess, and you were shaking from crying so hard. You stood there like a ghost, transparent and out of place, but crying real tears all the same. The sobs he had been hearing weren’t his own. They were yours. And you were still encased by the shadows of the Underworld.

You had been trying to catch up to him.

“Oh!” His exclamation was more of a dying moan than anything else. His trembling hands cupped his mouth again as he watched you cry again, crying even harder than that one time where the leaves were falling. He uttered your name once, and then once turned into four times, and as your cries got louder, his muttering turned into a shout, your name the one word he was calling out over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” He watched as you opened and shut your mouth over and over, shaking your head as silence was all you could produce. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He was drawing blood from how his fists were clenched. “Baby, my sweet love, my darling,” the names were dripping from his tongue like honey, like it was a balm that could soothe the both of you. His apologies were just as tender, as quiet and disbelieving as the language his eyes were speaking. He couldn’t help but reach out to you with a dying apology on his lips, his foot crossing the barrier you would be stuck behind forever, and just before he touched what must have been your cold skin, there was nothing but air.

Nothing but your lingering presence and his poisonous mind.

§§

He never thought that life could be so meaningless. Even before he met you, he felt like he had a purpose. He was an entertainer, a traveling man, a man who brought joy and music with him effortlessly wherever he went. Not anymore.

He was empty, and he felt like an empty glass jar. He wasn’t even an empty box— he was something anyone that had eyes could see right through. Everyone saw him and knew he was the one who had lost a wife and in turn given up all his divine talent. They looked at him through lenses that were wet with pity. He hated it.

He hated himself for doing the same to the humans who had lost loved ones. He felt horrible for giving them those looks, for telling Steve and Sam their stories without really knowing it. Now he was going through the unimaginable.

Nothing mattered, he learned. He thought that thought over and over again every time he woke up and every time he was going to sleep. He thought it while he sat in the cold on one winter night with no fire in the fireplace. It was something that would have made him worry a bit, or made him irritated at himself. Nothing really caused him to get angry or sad anymore. He was just there. It was like he was living yet another death by extension. The world gave him his cards and he played them in the worst way possible. But that’s what he did. He couldn’t change it.

He couldn’t change anything. All he could do was pray that you forgot the way that he failed you time and time again, and then where it was most important.

He would remember enough for the both of you.

****

hi guys! i feel like i literally have come back from the dead with all the time i’ve been in and out of here. it’s been so hectic and busy that i’m proud i got this out so soon lmao- i worked hard on this, so if you were feeling it please like and reblog!!

[hanazou]

𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖.

(while being shorter than him)

— a chaos of fun!

Word count : 1.5K

Shelf : Hardback

Genre : Romance and fluff, slight crack

Note : Sorry, anon! There was technical issue so I have to post this without your ask! I hope these are detailed enough to your expectations? I wrote more than I expected I would. Once again, thank you to the-foreigner for helping me figure out the tags!

Please enjoy!

 Where have you been all his life?

To say that Chuuya would simply be attracted to you because of your height sounds shallow, so let me phrase it this way; Chuuya is so used to having look up to people since many are taller than him all his life, both men and women, so it kind of does something different to his psyche when he sees you, being shorter than him.

Not to sound stereotypical but it's a given instinct that when you see someone shorter than you, you get the impression that they're cute and it triggers your protective instinct, right? This is what Chuuya feels about you. And since this sensation is new to him, he cherishes it.

Also, since Chuuya leans more towards masculinity, in your relationship with him, you're making him feel more manly. To speak a bit bluntly and in a nutshell, you boost his ego.

You make him feel even more confident and comfortable with himself. It's not that he wasn't confident before he dates you, you're just making him bolder with more sense of control and masculinity, making him feel validated. More dominant and more alpha.

But what does all of that mean, you ask? Here's the highlight of this post; Chuuya will pamper you as your prince charming while simultaneously being your playmate. Perfectly balanced.

Why? Because seeing you being petite, smaller than him, makes you appear as someone he should protect, but the romance doesn't replace the fun. When it comes to being Chuuya's darling, things never get overly cheesy. Yes he can be romantic (he is), but he's not the type to use sweet talks 24/7. He uses his "rough" ways to communicate his romanticism, one of them being your equal, hence the "playmate" dynamic.

Chuuya tells himself that you're his cute, little darling. He will say this to you straightforwardly except the "cute" part. If he casually and accidentally calls you cute from a slip of his tongue, you can definitely tease him back to get even.

He can be the big spoon and the "top" of your relationship, but he will be a switch if he's feeling sluggish. Being the "lead" sometimes makes him need a break, not from you, but from the energy it takes. Chuuya is an emotional guy and can be downright hysterical, and that takes energy, so he will turn to you for solace when he's worn out. To achieve that, Chuuya will utilize your height to bury his face into your neck or lean his forehead on your shoulder when work wears him down.

"Stay like this for a while," His voice blurs into mutters with his face on your shoulder. "Just three minutes."

Pat his head. Do it.

If you're the one feeling low, just put your head against his chest when you're both standing. Chuuya will be confused at first, but he'll silently ruffle your hair with your forehead still against his chest. It will be calming, I promise you.

Whether you're Port Mafia or a regular civilian (I find it easier for him to date someone from the PM though), you can count on Chuuya to be protective. He's already a protective guy by nature but when he sees you, his shorter darling, anywhere close to danger, that protective instinct doubles or even triples.

In fact, he wants you to rely on him. It's not that he wants you to be dependent—Chuuya just wants you to know that he always has your back. He's the combination of loyal and protective, so he wants to prove those qualities he takes pride in to you. Trust is a strong element for him, and by letting him know you count on him, you’re already securing his utmost loyalty and love.

One of the highlights of this post is his hat. You're shorter than him and it makes it easier for Chuuya to just plop his hat on your head on random occasions. No words, no thoughts, just putting his hat on you. It's the subconscious acts of love like this that makes him feel whole with you.

Kouyou will like you for colouring Chuuya's life. She'll make comments about how you both are fun to watch at, especially when you're both doing your silly dating antics, such as "My, my, energetic as always, aren't you both?"

Speaking of dating antics--Emotional maturity? We don't know her.

Doesn’t matter if you're only 2 cm or maybe 10 cm shorter than him. He will take any height advantage and have fun with it. A little too much, in fact.

Chuuya is not above using his ability to put objects in places he knows you can't reach but is close enough for you to struggle, just to watch you squirm. Confidence does things to this man, mischief being one of them. On the instances where you really can't reach up and it's not because of his tricks, something like this is bound to happen ;

"Huh, can't reach the top shelf, can ya? Don't worry, I've got you." He says, chest huffing with pride, before getting a ladder himself.

"...."

Mostly will lift you up to help since he wants to take the small chances to bond with you over simple moments. Short people solidarity. The height boost isn't much since short + short doesn't exactly equate to being tall, but hey, it's the thought and the comedic moments that count.

Speaking of comedic moments;

"Have you reached it yet?!" He asks loudly, craning his head from below you to see upwards. You're sitting on his shoulders and he's making sure he doesn't move around too much, or else you'll fall.

"Just a little bit more—!" You grunt, arm stretched. "Lift me up more, will you? Jump or something!"

"Do you want to fall? Forget it! Just reach higher!

"Maybe I can stand on your shoulders. Hold still--"

"Oi, this vest is 60,000 yen! And this is already the highest I'm lifting you! That's enough, I'll lower you down and just use my ability!"

"No! I'm already grazing it!"

And then you both will proceed to bicker in that weird, eye-catching position, for at least 2 more minutes. It will end if you either jump off him or he floats you down using his ability, and usually it's the latter.

[Sometimes the positions will switch (you lifting him up) but he's a solid 60 kg, it will be a challenge for your muscles and a good workout routine. Good luck getting him to agree to it though.]

[If that happens, chances are your legs will wobble just within seconds from lifting him. Good thing is it increases the humour and mischief in your relationship, downgrade is that it's too silly and stupid to look at to make it feel romantic]

Want to get back at his pranks? Here's a solution. Chuuya will vaporize if you use his clothes. He's taller than you, so let's say his shirt looks like a dress on you.

"W-What do you think you're wearing?!" Is what he shouts, but his flustered face says otherwise. [Bonus: for more critical hit, wear his choker(s). It does ‘things’ to him]

Yeah it's the little things like this that boost his confidence and optimism, and you don't mind him acting like the prince charming in an armour.

If anyone calls you (or even both of you) short, Chuuya will be pissed and defend you and himself since he assumes you also don't like being mocked for your height. He takes it upon himself to "fight" for you too. He has the "we're in this together" mentality.

And so do you. If any Port Mafia's enemies try to waver your confidence or Chuuya's by mocking your heights, it's going to be hell at that point.

If Dazai ever spots you and Chuuya together in public, he will say "Congratulations, Chuuya! You finally found someone shorter to date!" just when Chuuya mumbles "What's that shitty Dazai doing here?" under his breath.

Chuuya will try to kick his face while yelling "Huh?! What'd you just said about us!?"

Don't take what Dazai said personally, he did it to get on Chuuya's nerves, not yours. Instead, why don't you hold Chuuya back so he doesn't chase Dazai?

“Don’t you ever get bored arguing with him?!” You struggle to pull him back. You have to shout to outmatch his shouts.

Chuuya will be interested in height-related shenanigans with you, such as actually reading obviously fake advertisements that promises height growth and asking you if you're interested. He will only do this with you because he knows you won't make silly/berating comments about him. As I've said, trust is the secret ingredient in dating Chuuya.

"Hey, do you think this is real?" He shows you the poster he picked up. The dirt left by his sole on it is still there.

"Chuuya," You try really hard to stop sighing. "At this point, we have to stop lying to ourselves,"

But if the advertisement doesn't sound fake, let's say it utilises supposedly "effective acupuncture techniques", you will lessen the mature act and entertain him a bit.

In short, you and Chuuya will have an energetic and youthful relationship. It doesn't matter where you two are, be it in the cities or the ground zero of battle; if you two are there, people will see one hell of a lively, energetic, short duo.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Prince’s Kiss | Jason Grace

Summary: While on a mission, Y/n gets hurt and there’s only one way for Jason to save her.

Category: fluff

_____________________

          You and Jason had found yourselves in many situations like this before: back to back, weapons drawn, and fighting off a hoard of monsters. The rhythm and coordination you two had crafted over the course of hundreds of hours in battle and in training together proved to be a formidable force against opponents. You covered each other’s blind spots and moved as one. Which was necessary in the cramped alleyway.

          Soon enough your attackers had diminished in number until just a few were left and one big ugly came charging at you. You swung at it but your sword got stuck half-way through its wood club and wouldn’t come when you pulled.

          “Jay-.” Ducking under the monster’s swing, you continued to try and pry your sword free.

          “On it.” Jason replied and finished off his opponent with a quick and calculated strike before he spun around to help. You ducked beneath his arm as it arched over you and cut into the monster, turning it to dust before he reached around you and wrapped his hands around your own on the hilt of your sword. It came free with a strong pull from your combined strength and you both let out a heavy breath now that it was over.

          “Thanks,” you huffed, out of breath.

          “Don’t mention it,” he nodded, equally fatigued.

          “You know,” you kicked the wood club out of your way as you started to leave. “You’d think that with how often this happens, we’d be less winded.”

          “I’m fine, I think it’s just you,” he nudged your shoulder with his and you laughed.

          “Oh really? Bet I could beat you back to the motel.” 

          “You sure you wanna do this?” 

          “I think you’re scared, Jay-.” 

          A sharp sting to your side cut off your words. You looked down to see a scorpion-looking monster crouching behind the dumpster next to you and it reared its tail for another attack. Your limbs were sluggish as you tried pathetically to raise your sword and fight.

          “You’re on, Y/n.” Jason looked back at you, a challenging smile on his face that fell immediately when he saw the blood coming from your side and the monster about to swing. “Y/n!”

          His sword found its mark and the monster was finished before it could strike again and he spun to face you, worry creasing his brow.

          “Are you alright?” He reached out his hand towards your wound and caught you in his arms as you collapsed. “Hold on, Y/n.”

          The motel room you had rented for your mission wasn’t far and Jason made record time carrying you back to it. He laid you on one of the beds and gently lifted your shirt up over your stomach so that he could see the wound. It didn’t look too deep once he cleaned it up but you still hadn’t woken up. That’s when he knew something was wrong. You were one of the toughest people Jason knew and he had seen you walk off wounds far worse than this. 

          Deciding he needed some professional help, Jason scrambled to get a golden drachma from his backpack and ran to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

          When the misty picture of Will Solace lit up the tiles, Jason called out to him frantically.

          “Jason!” Will jumped and spun around to see the Iris message. He took in the usually composed leader’s worry and then past the open bathroom door to where he could see Y/n unmoving on the bed and immediately snapped into business mode. “What’s wrong.”

          “I don’t know she got hit and passed out but the wound isn’t that bad and she can’t eat any ambrosia like this. What do I do?”

          “You said the wound isn’t bad?” Will asked and Jason held his hand up in an approximation of how big it is, not wanting to move you from the bed. “And she’s passed out? It must be something else then. Did you see what hit her?”

          “Yeah it was some kind of scorpion looking thing, I don’t know.” Jason ran his hand through his hair and walked back over to you, inspecting the wound and holding your hand that Will couldn’t see. 

          “Does she have a fever? It could be some kind of poison,” Will offered and Jason felt your forehead. 

          “She’s burning up.”

          “I don’t get it,” Will tore through his books looking for an answer. “There isn’t a kind of monster like that who’s sting produces these kinds of symptoms.”

          Jason walked back over to the bathroom and looked at Will’s surroundings.

          “Is Annabeth there? She would probably know.” 

          “She’s in New York City with Percy.” Jason’s budding hope shrank again and he looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin looked drained of color but at least the wound had stopped bleeding. “I’ll keep looking. Did the wound look discolored at all-?”

         Jason jumped from a cry of pain and rushed back to your side where you were thrashing around in your sleep. He grabbed your wrists and tried to hold you down so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, your eyes screwed shut and agonized noises like a  twisting knife in his gut. “Will!”

          “I’m looking! Try to keep her still!”

          Even unconscious, you were putting up a hell of a fight for Jason who was struggling to hold you down, especially since he was trying not to hurt you. 

          “Jason, you gotta hold her down.” 

          He jumped up and straddled your hips to keep your legs down and leaned the rest of his weight into keeping your wrists to the pillow. 

          “Wait, you guys were looking for monsters who stole stuff from Aphrodite, right?”

          “Yeah?” The entire point of the mission had left Jason’s mind since he saw you collapse and he was too anxious to follow Will’s thinking.

          “Then what if it was one of Aphrodite’s potions that the stinger was dipped in?” Will grabbed a new book and wildly searched through it. “This one must be it! Fainting, fever, convulsions… yeah it’s this one.”

          “What do I do?” The fight was being drained from you but Jason was hesitant to do more than ease on his grip a little in case you started up again.

          “It says that the only cure is a… wow, that is so like Aphrodite.”

          “Will.”

          “Okay it says that the only cure is a kiss from royalty, like a prince or something.”

          Jason’s hope was crushed once again seeing as how even if they weren’t in America, a prince would be exceptionally hard to acquire. 

          “Well I don’t think I’ll be able to find a prince in the middle of Wisconsin. Is there another option?” There had to be another way. No way in hell was Jason going to lose you. Especially not before you knew how he felt.

          You had completely stopped fighting against him and Jason wished you would keep doing so even if he was tired. He much preferred it to you lying there limp and lifeless. 

          “Wait, wait, wait. Zeus is the king of the gods,” Will started and expected Jason to catch on to his idea. “And you’re his son.”

          “Well, technically I’m the son of Jupiter, but what does that have to do with anything?” Jason removed himself from on top of you and walked over to Will.

         “I mean that technically makes you a prince, Jason.” 

          Jason frowned in concentration, weighing the legitimacy of that claim. Then he struggled to fight off a blush when he realized what Will was insinuating he has to do now.

          “Are you sure that counts? Like there’s not another way?” Jason looked back at you, now dealing with new emotions adding to his turmoil. 

          “Jason, you have to try it. And like now, she doesn’t have long. It says here that once the convulsions stop they don’t have much time left.” Will’s face was getting blurry as the Iris message was running out. 

          “What if it doesn’t work, what do I do?” Jason pleaded to the fading form of his friend. “Will, Will!” 

          The Iris message cut off and Jason hit the wall in frustration before he returned to your side.

          “This better work.” He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t. As Jason knelt down and brushed some hair out of your face he couldn’t imagine having to live without you by his side. Even if you didn’t return his feelings, your friendship was too important to him. The thought of losing you made him forget any nerves he had and he leaned down and gingerly pressed his lips to yours. 

          The change was immediate as you breathed in life. Your eyes opened and the first thing they saw was Jason’s. 

          “Jay?” He broke out into the biggest smile you had ever seen on him and he pulled you into a hug. “What happened?”

          “You got kinda poisoned and almost died.” At this point you registered the dull pain emitting from your side and leaned back to look at your injury. “But you didn’t because I saved you. You’re welcome.”

          “Oh, so you’re my Prince Charming?” You asked him and he shrugged.

          “I mean, technically.” His voice sounded less confident than it had and you looked at him quizzically, which made him avoid your gaze by walking over to his backpack. “How do you feel?”

          “Fine…” you answered, still thinking about his sudden mood shift. “Except for whatever happened here.”

          “Giant scorpion thing,” he answered and walked back over, handing you a square of ambrosia. 

          “Cool.” The ambrosia soothed your side and you leaned against the headboard in relief.

          “Hardly,” Jason scoffed, sitting next to you but looking down at his lap. “You collapsed and went pale and I thought I was going to lose you.”

          He got quiet and you saw the stress and worry in his slumped shoulders.

          “The thought of you just… being gone. Before I could say goodbye or, or tell you how I feel. You were so pale…” His jaw clenched and he turned his face away from you.

          “Jason,” you placed your hand on his shoulder and made him look at you. His blue eyes teared up and you felt a physical tug on your heart. Your hands cradled his face and gently wiped away the tear that fell to his cheek. “I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

          His head hung and landed on your shoulder, your hand combed through his hair.

          “And Jason?” You asked as you remembered a sensation from when you woke up.

          “Mm-hm?” He responded from your shoulder, his voice steadier now.

          “Did you… kiss me?” 

          At that he burst upright and a blush was raging on his face. 

          “Okay, I had to do it or you would die. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to- I mean I did want to kiss you. For a while now, actually, but not like this and especially when I couldn’t tell if you wanted me to or not. Will just said that there was no other way so-.”

          “Shut up.” His eyes snapped to you failing to suppress your grin. “Don’t apologize. Just… do it again.”

          His lips parted in shock and then one side lifted up as he leaned into you. Your hands held his face as his mouth pressed into yours and your bodies sighed into each other. So many years of longing and second-guessing and finally getting an answer, you couldn’t believe this was really happening.

          Jason tilted his head further and deepened the kiss, his hand moving to your leg that was propped up on the bed, sliding from your knee down to your hip and squeezing.

          “Holy shit,” you mumbled against his lips before you could stop yourself and you felt his smirk.

          “Just wait.”

          His lips moved down to your neck and you could breathe again but your head didn’t get any clearer, until you looked into the bathroom.

          “Jason?” 

          “Hm?” His voice tickled the sensitive skin of your throat .

          “Why is the shower on?”