#i suppose i shall have to be happy with my 4 anchors (i will never use all of these) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jennsmischievousmind · 4 years ago

Text

Fucks not Found

One, but not done [END]

Seven sighed as One disappeared when it was time to pack everything "Is he always like that or is he just being purposefully annoying?”

“How the fuck would I know?!” Three slammed a crate on the ground, holding his back like an old man.

“Who?” you were all packing the mission’s gear in the Haunted House.

“One,”

“Purposefully, no doubt!” you chuckled.

Later you knocked on his trailer door,

"Old man, we have to talk,"

"Let me guess, you want a bigger trailer so you and skater boy could go at it, not gonna happen,"

"Hum .. not exactly, look I know it's the first rule you told us about, and we broke it, actually 4 of us broke it. We're human One,"

He sighed "I just.. need you to be focus on the job."

"We are fo-.."

"Getting shot prove that you were focus," he threw his phone on the desk

"Alright you got a point,"

"These numbers are for your own safety," he stated angrily "but I guess now it's all fucked up."

"Not necessarily, I mean, now we all know each other better, we have better bonds,"

"Tell me about it," you smirked at his saying "... actually don't," he furrowed his eyebrows as you chuckled.

"Think about it," you pointed out as you were stepping out "this team, could do so much more,"

He nodded and something snapped.

"Hold on," he rummaged through a drawer to finally hand you a silver key, his eyes changed for a second “Might be cliché but he would have been proud.”

Smiling slightly at One, you left to open your brother's safe.

There were photographs, a few envelopes with the same cachet and a P/O box address on it.

One of the photographs, in black and white yellowed by the time showed your Mamma and Papa at your age in front of the Coliseum, looking happy as ever, the warmth of their smiled enveloping you instantly. Another one with your Mamma in swims wear gracefully sat on the sand, holding both of you. You were so tiny, wearing terrible hats and frowning at the sun. You found yourself laughing, a tear landing on the envelope’s corner behind the pictures.

Setting aside those pictures, you flicked the envelope open. Eyes scanning the document multiple times you were not sure what you were reading. Palm against your agape mouth, you read the main text.

“Dear Anonymous donator,

We would like to thank you for all these years of generosity. Your help has given access healthcare to people in dread need of it. With the help of caring people such as yourself, we have been able to afford the construction of a new volunteer centre, which will provide a facility to help maximize the amount of lives we can save.

Your last donation in date had us all profoundly touch and grateful.

We will never not be thankful enough. We wish we had a name to put on the facility’s wall. But we respect your privacy and so we’ll stop asking from now on.

All proceeds of your donations advance our lifesaving mission.

Thank you, dear anonymous donator.“

The tears blurred your vision until you couldn't see through it. He had found his anchor.

You cried, not of sadness but of proudness. For you he was still the kid throwing stones on the neighbor’s roof, the one who couldn’t sleep on stormy nights, the teen who cried when his crush rejected him. He was your anchor for years.

One paid you much more than you needed to live. You assumed now your brother had donated the payment. And all these years when he worked multiple jobs... it all became clear.

"You were the better twin, baby brother!" You mumbled to yourself.

Weeks later the Donations continued yet the anonymous donator had a found an alias.

Six

Passing by the pool you stopped once more before leaving the scorching desert until One would need you.

Weeks ago you brother was laughing at you on the other side of this very pool, these memories were gold now, they didn’t make you sad anymore, you grinned remembering him holding his chest while laughing on the ground, little fucker.

“Hey luv,”

“Hey,” he sat next to you on the edge of the empty pool

"So we're out?" His hand snaked around your waist bringing you closer.

"Not for now," you smiled thinking about this time spend with this weird squad, eager for a new operation.

“So where shall we go until next,”

“You're ready to stick with me? Are you mad?" He laughed as you touched his forehead for any kind of fever.

"Banged my head a few times yeah, but I'm pretty sure I'm mad...about you."

"God you spent to much time around One." He gently reached for your jaw turning your head to him, the blush creeping on your cheeks not helping to hide that you actually liked that he was ready to come with you anywhere, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

The warm air and sounds of busy streets of Italy passing through the ajar window woke you up. Looking at your watch on the bedside table you immediatly turn your back to it, snuggling back into Four's chest. Too early. The night was short.

"What do you say about Transylvania?" he mindlessly ran pattern on your back with his warm fingers.

"For what? Vampire retreat?"

"Hiking, but I can bite" feeling his teeth of soft spot on your neck you squirmed.

"Aouch, alright, we'll go to Transylvania tomorrow. I got to see my brother first."

He nodded, his smile sliding off.

"What?"

"I'm...I'm not really comfortable with...mourning," he played with your fingers on his chest avoiding your look "I ..uh.."

"Calm down babe," you straddled him, the sheet sliding down your bare body "I'm not asking you to come with me." You chuckled at his concerned face, and his lost of attention at the sight of your naked body.

He sighed, "You know he was like a brother to me..." you tilted your head watching him

"That would be weird.." you removed your hands from his

"shit no not a brother," he caught your hands putting them right back on his chest" a .. a best friend,"

"Stop talking," you leaned in, enclosing his lips with yours. His hands immediatly reached your tighs, you felt a shiver ran his chest as your finger brushed his skin from his throat to his navel. A firm squeezed on your thighs made you giggled, he was so easy to trigger.

He sat up, one of his arm tightly set around your low back while the other snake to your back, his hand holding the back your neck. A lovely mess of tangled limbs in silk sheet was all you were. You pushed him back on the bed, holding his hands up his head.

You nibbled on his earlobe, and chuckled when he groaned at the ministrations trying to fight your hold on him. He could easily removed himself from your grip, guess he wouldn't this time.

Finding your way down his neck, chest, navel ... taking your sweet time until you reach the point of no return. He gasped, his head lolling back on the pillow "God I love Italy,"

“Ciao brother” cross seating at the grave of his fake death, there were flowers already with a cup of mochaccino beside it, you laughed, only One person could have done that. Glancing at your own grave, you shivered at your name engraved in the marble stone.

You recall the all mission as if your twin was there listening to you, “This one is for you, and the next, and the next.” You breathe in feeling tears coming up, “I kept your cross," you scoffed, "you can thank Four for that. As long as I have it, I’ll have you, mammà and papa with me promise.” kissing the cross you left a single tear rolled down your face.

One knew how to be a ghost, perfectly, no one could trace him, anyone but you. .... The gps tracker in his watch helped. If he knew, he’d probably wouldn’t be happy, but hey he is your cash source can’t lose an eye on him.

“So, that’s your secret!” looking at the little boy in the playground whom looked like the man beside you.

“Shit! He jumped

“Hey,” you grinned leaning on the grid, sliding your shades down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be OUT of Italy?” he groaned

“It’s my homeland One, what’d you expect?” you pointed at your wig and shades “Disguise,”

“It’s always better than Three’s in Vegas,” He joked “You’re kicked out, it’s immediate,” He stated, not even believing it himself.

“Yeaaaah, I don’t think so,” you nudged his shoulder. A ghost of a grin appeared knowingly.

"Do you follow everyone, or are you my private stalker?"

"You really wanna know!?" You shifted on your two feet, he got the idea that everyone had a stalker in the name of Eight.

"Cleavers," you used his own line

"Shut up," he answered tired of your shit, resulting in you laughing a bit too loud.

Regaining a sense of calm you felt he was still uneasy about you seeing his son. “Your secret is safe with me old man,” He nodded a tight smile on his lips, and somehow he knew he could trust you.

“Haunted house, in a week.”

“Noted.” Saluting with two-fingers you took a few steps back still eyeing him with fondness, proudness, maybe not just a cash source in the end. He flicked you off, a bright smile spread on your face.

“Where’s Four by the way?” he called out

“Somewhere on the roofs, he can’t help it.”

He lifted his head, you took this time to disappear around the corner.

Calling Four you stumble upon his voicemail “Skater boy, you better bring down your cute ass. We’re heading back to the Haunted House in a week. Mission 2 is coming. Love ya!”

A week later

"Please don't,"

"One, I only hugged her for a second," you rolled your eyes. Five was still holding your shoulders.

"Tell me you're not going to freak out everytime two of us are close,"

Two had a grin on, Five was being clingy on purpose. It had been a month since you've seen everyone, except Four and One. You had missed everyone, Five especially, after the parkour lessons, the incident on the yacht you had become close friends.

"Hey squad," Four let his skate rolled until it hit a wall. He reached you kissing your cheek, then sending you a wink as he took a seat next to Three. You eyed One, holding a laugh, Five carefully removed her hands from around your arm. Four looked dumbfounded as One sighed, staring at you. He then flung his arms in the air.

"Fucking Millennials!"

Thanks to everyone who read, liked, commented on Fucks not Found. It was fun to write, let me know what could be improved, I'm still working on my english that's why everything is not perfect and quite limited. Looking forward a new story. Thanks again.

A/N: don't forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏

#6 underground four x reader #jennfic #6 underground imagine #ben hardy #billy x reader #four imagine #four x reader #6 underground #ben hardy x reader

137 notes · View notes

aymayzing · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Do you think could talk a little about the Inaczej WIP? Those one-word titles always get me 😅

Of course! Thank you for the ask!

Inaczej just means Differently in Polish and it's basically me trying to piece together 3 or 4 versions of In Your Heart Shall Burn that I've written lol. I did however figure out how to get it into another fic of my mine, not as a standalone. So if I ever post it, it'll probably be inside this bigger fic (that I still don't have much of). This lonely waddle through the snow is a lot for Lys, as being left alone in the snow brings back bad memories and it is very important to his character and to me personally, so I want it to be perfect. That's why I am never satisfied with any version of this quest I write, even though I really want to get it out.

Here's a small excerpt:

Lys heard that hypothermia, freezing to death, was not the worst way to go - one was supposed to fall asleep, then feel warmer for a moment and then it was done. His father told him that when he was young and asked whether his mom was in pain. Back then, it wasn’t much of a consolation and made Lys cry - it was, after all, a story of how his mother died and little Lys often cried when he heard about it. It only brought relief to the pain and sorrow he felt years later, when he was older. When he realized that maybe his mother’s death wasn’t as bad as some other ways to go. It brought some consolation now as well. His father’s voice ringing in Lys’ ears as he slowly drifted to sleep was nothing new. This time, he just wouldn’t wake up again.

But it wasn’t painless. Everything hurt him, especially his glowing, left arm, courtesy of the spell the crazy, ancient magister used trying to rip the mark - the Anchor, he called it - away from Lys. He barely felt his face, just the hot tears streaming down his cheeks, cutting his face as if they were little knives. He moved forward, still forward, but his legs wouldn’t bend anymore, his feet probably were popsicles by now.

The pain wasn’t just physical. The dying hope that he might catch up to Inquisition, the thought that they’re somewhere out there, not knowing what attacked them, what happened at the Conclave - this was torture. Lys knew he was the only person, who could warn them, but he knew he would not make it back to them.

Was it worth it? Was the pain adequate to the happiness? It wasn’t, not really. The pain, the terror Lys felt was overwhelming, but he knew he still got the better end of the bargain - and he was thankful for all the extra years, for all the people he got to meet.

#wordsofmyown #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dorian pavus #oc: lys lavellan #wip ask game #death mention #death cw #hypothermia cw

3 notes · View notes

its-me-jessi · 5 years ago

Text

Back To The History PT3

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Hvitserk and Y/N built up a strong relationship but is it strong enough for the truth?

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy the third part of the “back to the history” series. 🤗 As always, I’d appreciate a lot of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog. 😊

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

After exiting the great hall, I had the strange feeling extraordinary and mysterious times were ahead of me and later on it should turn out that the feeling was absolutely right.

The more time passed, the more I realized that all of these incidents, peoples and feelings weren’t part of a weird dream they were more than that they were real. What was once reality; going to work, meeting friends, just doing the things I used to do without even thinking about it, was now part of a different very distant world. The world I lived in now was nowhere near the world I knew. In the beginning of experiencing all the facets the novel world had to offer I had to pinch me several times a day because it was so unbelievable, I really was part of the middle ages now. Time travel wasn’t even invented and yet I obviously did travel in time. Finally, I gave up thinking all of this is just a dream but there was one thing I still didn’t quite understand. How was all of this possible? How the hell could this happen to me?

“You learn fast, Y/N!”, Hvitserk sat down on the long time ago fallen tree trunk next to my exhausted figure. We went to the woods where he wanted to teach me how to use a sword to defend myself if I ever have to. It has been six month and a few days since I found myself right in the middle of an historical battle and it didn’t take long for me to understand how risky and deadly life can be in such times full of greed and pain. Life was extremely short and since I understood that it was my real life, I was living I was afraid of dying without even saying goodbye to my family and dearest friends. That’s why I was glad Hvitserk offered me to teach me how to defend my life and not to get killed so easily.

“You didn’t tell me it would be this hard. Even raising the sword is a difficulty on its own.!”, I just made him laugh at me. To show of how talented he is with a sword he picked it up and made a move with it. “What are you talking about. It’s as light as a feather floating in the wind!”. “Shut up!”, he was definitely mocking me, and I just glared at him. He then put an arm around my shoulders, and we laughed together like no worries existed. It was such a great relief to know what he and all of the people around me were talking about. It took me long enough to finally get a feeling for the old language and to actually learn it. The conversations I had with especially Hvitserk were one of the best things I experienced since being there and I would’ve really missed them if I never learned how to speak and understand their language. That was worth all the long nights full of exhaustion and frustration.

“I still don’t get it!”, I looked at him confused. Hvitserk and I were sitting around in his bedroom. He was casually sitting on his bed while I was too nervous to do so. I was well informed of the way men used to treat women at that time. They knew exactly how to seduce women and get them to do what they want. Getting a woman to sleep with them was one of the easiest tasks for them to fulfill. I liked Hvitserk, I liked him a lot. He was there for me, helped me getting used to my new life, brought a smile to my lips even when I didn’t quite feel like smiling. He was like an anchor, my anchor I needed to hold on to not to drown in the waters of that foreign world. In him I saw somebody who I can trust, who has my back and would never betray me. Every day I spent with him I fell deeper and deeper in love with him. There were times I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t know how and more importantly I wasn’t sure if it was right for me to do so because in the end, I still didn’t belong there. My rightful place wasn’t there it was far away in the future far away from him. I didn’t know what would happen. What if I got the chance to go back to my old life? I wouldn’t have the heart to leave him. The last thing I wanted was to hurt his feelings and get him to think I betrayed him. That’s why I held back my feelings and kept a safe distance between us even if it was hard for me to do so.

Hvitserk sighed and let himself fall backwards on his bed. “Let’s stop for today!”, he hid his face under his left arm. “Tomorrow we’ve got plenty of time to continue this discussion, don’t you agree?”, he lifted it back up to just look at me still sitting at the edge of his bed. “What’s up with you sitting there like a statue, come!”, he laughed, grabbed my hand and pulled me up to him so I was laying directly next to him. Shocked by his sudden action I just stared at him. “Let’s call it a day, shall we?”, he grinned at me, threw his right strong arm around me and pulled me even closer to him. How was I supposed to resist him? His behavior made it even harder to restrain my feelings and the urge to quit distancing and just getting closer to him, emotionally as well as physically.

I laughed thinking back to these times. My relationship to him hasn’t changed a bit but sometimes I had the feeling Hvitserk wanted it to change. I myself wanted us to be more but there were still these thoughts which held me back to just leave us to be what we wanted us to be. To my relief Hvitserk didn’t rush things and gave me time to think through everything once again.

“Why are you laughing?”, he asked looking at me with his bright blue eyes. By simply shaking my head I skipped having to explain myself. “By the way, where are you from? - It’s already been such a long time since you came here. You can now understand our language but until now we have never talked about your home.” Shit. I had hoped he wouldn’t ask me so soon and I was glad he actually didn’t until now. I’d often thought about what to answer but I still didn’t find the right answer. I couldn’t just tell him I came from the future, could I? I mean, who would believe me? Even I didn’t believe it in the beginning. But I couldn’t just lie to him I wouldn’t even know what to tell him instead. The truth will get you farther than any lie you could tell. That’s what my mum often told me. She’s right. I should tell him the truth.

“Don’t freak out, alright?”, I intensely looked at him, studied his eyes but I couldn’t find any sign which held me back. “You were right, I don’t belong here! In fact, I don’t even belong to this time we are in now! – I know it sounds crazy, but the place I came from isn’t a place you could have ever heard of. I’d come from the future.”

It took him a while just to fully realize what I have just told him. The way he burst out laughing told me he didn’t believe me, not even a single word. “You must be joking!”, he watched me with an amused look on his face. “I’m not! It’s true! - What I told you is true, Hvitserk!”, I didn’t know what else to tell him. I could just take a step back and tell him a lie hoping he would believe more in a lie than in the one and only truth, but I couldn’t lie to him. “You really want me to believe that?”, he arched his eyebrows. Slowly I just nodded. For a while we just sat there in silence until he spoke up again: “So, you’d come from the future, huh? Interesting…”, he paused. “Very interesting how you can keep a straight face while lying directly to my face! – I always thought you trust me. I thought we were close, Y/N, but apparently we’re not.”, he grabbed his sword and put it back in the sword scabbard. “Hvitserk!”, out of shock and anger I shouted at him when I saw him stand up. “I’m sure you’ll soon have to explain yourself in front of Ivar, so better be prepared!”, he spoke to me without even looking at me. “Perhaps you’ll tell at least him the truth. Or another lie, we’ll see.”, with that he went away. “Fine Hvitserk, just go away! I don’t need somebody who wouldn’t even try to believe me not even a little bit!”, I shouted after him. So much for being close. Thank you for nothing.

After strolling around in the woods for a while I went back to the city where I was already awaited. Ivars men were positioned in front of the gates to head me off as soon as they noticed me. It wasn’t a surprise they lead me right to the great hall to meet Ivar. Since Hvitserk left I had the feeling that today would be the day. Wasn’t today the perfect day to die? If even Hvitserk, the only one who I built up a relationship with wouldn’t believe me then Ivar certainly wouldn’t do so either. I saw no point in telling him the truth nor a stupid lie. Either way he would denounce me as a liar which would lead to loosing my tongue and then my life. I was thinking about the way Ivar would enjoy seeing me get killed while I was standing in front of him. Let’s get it over with, shall we?

“I heard you can now speak our language, Y/N. What great news. – Now you can surely tell me where you’re from and who your people are.”, he put on his sneaky fake grin and watched me closely. I took a deep breath before opening my mouth to speak. As I did the door to the great hall flew open.

Thank you all so so much for reading! I’m so happy you like this series!😍🤗

Tagged: @alexa4040

#vikings #vikings tv show #vikings imagine #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk reader #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk imagine #fanfiction #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk vikings x reader #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar reader

74 notes · View notes

lumikatdraws · 4 years ago

Text

#4: Clinch

("T," maybe gently "M." G'raha/WoL reminiscence and brief WoL/Aymeric. WoL POV.)

- - - - - - - - - -

- ✧ ☄ ☽ -

She stopped counting time by autumns after the Tower.

To worsen the bite—to make that evanescent season impossible to forget—Samantha was born near that border, her name day cast just before that liminal gasp. She was a late summer blossom that craved for cool air, and it pained her, after G’raha, to remember.

- - - - - - - - - -

The front end of dusk was beginning, the spire on the horizon aglow.

Another day, ordinary but for the circumstances. But that, she supposed, was the fodder for stories—mundane moments, supernormal per perspective. One hand crept to her chest and took her aethermist necklace in hand; toyed with the crystal and wondered—were the Scions at the Stones, sharing tea and fables and banalities their own? In her weeks spent afield mapping pathways, maiming monsters, scaling the echelons of the Tower—had her absence been felt?

Minfilia’s smile was warmer than sunshine and Samantha let herself bask for the briefest of breaths; felt the cool press of gemstone in her hand. “For your protection,” the Antecedent told her, and the Warrior turned the mother-shard gift between her fingers—watched it sparkle and shimmer.

Now it was warmed; imbued with heat from her skin, through her layers of chemise, blouse, and bodice. She thumbed the crystal and thought of Warde, of Waters—Tataru Taru serving tea—Papalymo preaching to Yda, Y’shtola scoffing fondly—Urianger pontificating while the Leveilleur twins attended—

A body a head-and-some smaller slammed into her back, strong arms grappling her into a bear hug.

“You sly old thing!”

The wind was knocked from her lungs, her imaginings scattered, as G’raha Tia all but wrestled her up off the ground. Senseless afresh at the show of his strength, she coughed. “Gods and hells.” It was difficult to remember the last time someone, in no uncertain terms, swept her off her feet. “What in the—Raha—put me down—”

“Why did you not tell me?”

He was audibly pouting.

She used the callused heels of both palms to wrestle the cinching clinch of his forearms, but his vise grip was unbending. She glared at his freckled, sunburnt skin, her voice strained. “Tell you what?”

“That today was your name day,” he sulked, rattling her body minutely. “I would have foraged for gifts.”

She huffed hard. Her cheeks prickled. Leave it to G’raha to winkle out her secrets.

But who told him?

…

She would kill Cid bloody Garlond.

Her body collapsed into deadweight. As usual, in defense against her sentiments—to tamp down the way her heart raced and fluttered, simply to know G’raha cared—

She reached for insipid banter. “Why did you not tell me you were so godsdamned brawny?”

“Aha,” he laughed. “You mean to imply you never noticed?”

There was a wink in his voice. She coughed, indignant—because of course she had, but— “Your ego would never survive how much I’ve noticed,” she wheezed, surprised by her own frankness. She could veritably feel the heat of his massive grin as he eased her back to earth.

His voice was a rumble, thrilled and satisfied. “Fabulous.” One last squeeze like a cincher at her waist, and then she was released. “Remind me to show you my trump cards more often.”

“Numpty,” she grumbled, pushing away.

She spun to scowl down and G’raha’s smile was wide as imagined, dry Mor Dhonan dust stirred up by the delighted lash of his tail. The tip curled and hooked like the side of his mouth. “Right,” he said, all candor and merriment and crisp bits of mischief. “How shall we celebrate?”

She spluttered. “I had no intention to—”

But his hand was shoved in hers and she was being dragged—a fond, familiar hauling she was furtively glad to call common. “Revenant’s Toll,” he said, hitched with excitement. “Our research can wait—”

“But Xande—”

“Is trapped,” said G’raha. “And I, for one, will not allow the horrors of Allag to interfere with your birthday.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Supper hung warm in her belly as they scaled the path to the greenery just past the Splendors.

The omnipresent chatter of settlers and workers faded into static as G’raha’s hand crept again to find hers. “This way,” he murmured, his palm pulsing her fingers with a gentle, affectionate wring.

Heaviness shunted her chest. For a breath, she feared she might burst open—might collapse and dissolve into hot surging butterflies, like those that crowded her stomach.

They moved beyond the dull commotion, and music distantly warbled, the melody stronger and stronger. G’raha’s ears flicked, overfocused in her vision, and when he turned to flash a grin, she felt sunshine again. “A troubadour,” he laughed—summer sunset, rich and rustling—and as they rounded the corner, she saw the minstrel in question, perched and playing her lyre on a half-mortared ledge.

The small square was under construction but G’raha Tia hardly cared. He towed her right up to the bard and threw down a handful of gil. The Warrior of Light watched in awe as the Baldesion Scholar listed songs by titles unfamiliar, stopping only when the bemused musician grinned.

“That one,” she said, flexing her hands. “I well know it.”

“Perfect,” G’raha breathed. He whirled to face Samantha. “Dance with me.”

It was not a request.

His hands snatched her wrists, then her fingers, and they were woven callus to callus. He brought his strength to bear again as she gasped his name—Raha—and they were spinning.

An ugly laugh tore from her throat, and she was dizzy—anchored by the bright sight of his smile. Her bearings were lost, her wits scattered. She watched the movement of his soft and beautiful mouth, and it took her too many heartbeats to realize he was singing.

The curl of his timbre plucked something far inside her. Ilsabardian, she realized. He was singing in that language—

Like Cassius—

Tears pricked her eyes.

“Your voice.” Hers was hoarse and husky. “It’s magnificent.”

The pitch on his lips spiraled off into a rich vibrato. “Another card to your liking, then?”

Her pulse filled her ears. She nodded, and at the way he dazzled, incandescent, reality beyond him was gone.

G’raha Tia was a riddle, hard and charming and delightful; so bizarre he left her petrified, more frightening, somehow, than a Garlean legatus. His smile stirred her aether, something quiet and arcane, and a swift, relentless pressure thumped like wingbeats in her chest.

I—

He twirled her into a spin. She bent along after; stumbled under his arms and snagged herself, boot tip to boot tip. A shout left her lips as she fell—the clinch of his arms snared her waist as he dove to catch her—and the two of them crumpled, gasping, to the ground.

One leg sprawled beneath him. One knee cocked against his hip. She giggled helplessly as his body shuddered overhead, laughter rolling from his chest. His ears were perked straight forward, his stare so warm.

“Some pair we make,” he murmured past the mirth, and he used one scuffed hand to push her tangled hair behind her ear; to stroke the pads of his fingers, very slowly, down her face.

They locked eyes. Both went still. With the weight of his body above her, cradled hips to cautious hips, a whisper of hunger burned inside her to realize how well they might actually fit.

He wet his lips. His pupils widened, then thinned back to slits.

Slowly, he disentangled them—stepped up and away and reached one hand down. Palm to palm, she was lifted, and— “Follow me,” he said. Again they were stitched at the fingers, her heart become the butterfly flutter, her blood alive with wild anticipation.

Notes fell from his lips—he was singing, and panting, and breathless—and she gripped his hand more tightly. Past the square, past the last hints of construction, past the edge of the Toll and out into Mor Dhona—

They ran into fields strewn with glowing crystals, and before she could catch her air, she was against him; hugged into the hard clutch of his arms like a cincher. He pressed his face to the edge of her shoulder, conspicuously avoiding her chest. “Samantha.” Her name was hot on his lips, hot on the skin past her vestments. Her arms curled, careful around him, and her sleeves slouched half-down. “I—” his voice cracked. “Have another gift,” he huffed. “That is—before I lose the courage to give it.”

Her hands crept up his neck; covetously traced the small plait at his nape. Her body was humming, her pulse racing fast, the precipice between them disappearing in a glimmer. She forced herself to ask. “What is it?”

His mouth at the fringe of her sleeve and her skin. “A kiss.”

Her heart was a stone plunging into her stomach. She froze—leaned back—found his mismatched eyes tilted up to her in gallantry and terror.

Yes, yes, yes—

Her throat was dry, and silence overlingered. He went tense. She felt him begin to recoil and stopped him, her thumbs by his lips. When she leaned down, her dark hair curtained around them.

“Kiss me, then,” she whispered.

Shadowed eyes roved her face. His hands stroked a path up her backbone. He tipped up his chin, and his mouth was soft and lush, his taste warm and bitter. He tried to leave her with a peck but she followed him for something good and proper, drinking the breath from the tip of his tongue, tasting hope and apprehension.

Their noses brushed together. “Happy name day, Samantha.”

- - - - - - - - - -

After that, winters seemed a better measure.

Winter was, after all, where she found summer again.

His laugh was warm and breathy. “I was born then, you know,” Borel hummed, voice like velvet and honey and richer than silk. “On that crisp cusp between greenings and heat.”

“Soft thing of springtime,” she called him.

“Monster of maying,” he whispered.

“Either way,” she kissed his lips. “You brought me sunshine again.”

- ☽ ✧ ☾ -

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #G'raha Tia #Warrior of Light #Aymeric de Borel #g'raha/wol #aymeric/wol #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #Samantha Floravale

12 notes · View notes

writings-and-wonderings · 6 years ago

Text

High Tide - Chapter 4

One shot/ Chapter No: 4/? one , two, three

Summary: (Y/N) is the daughter of a governor,and is promised a happy life with her betrothed. But her heart yearns for the ocean and the mysteries it carries. After an argument with her soon-to-be-husband, she heads down to the docks, only to find something - or someone - she wasn’t expecting

Words: 1,684

Notes/Warnings: violence. also thank you to everyone who is following the story now, it means a lot to me. just to let you all know there won’t be any updates for a while because i’m going back to school and tumblr is blocked on their wifi soooo yeah. i would very much appreciate your patience! but i promise i will upload new chapters as soon as i can. much love.

------

Chapter 4

The entire structure of the ship seemed to shake, but there was an excitement in my core that I had not felt before. The cries of the men above made my heart lurch into my throat as the danger of the situation sunk in. But it didn't make me want to leave immediately, it made me want to pick up a sword and be alongside them as they boarded the ship. My eyes darted over to the cutlass on the bookshelf, and my fingers itched to pick it up. I felt compelled as I walked over towards it, and as I picked it up, the cool metal seemed to calm my thumping heart but stirred my sense for adventure. The canons stopped firing a few moments later, and footsteps pounded overhead as all the men headed to board the merchant ship. My curiosity got the better of me and, gripping the cutlass slightly tighter, I opened the door and peeked out. Our ship had not a soul left on it, but the chorus of shouts coming from the other left nothing to the imagination. I wandered out a little further, looking cautiously over the side. The merchant ship was around the same size as ours, but with a much larger crew. Yet somehow Loki's men had managed to overtake the ship, round up the men in the centre, and start gathering all the supplies they wanted. I couldn't see Loki, but Kidd was circling the captured crew in the middle, intimidating them as best he could. Crates started coming up from the bowel of the ship, and there was a range of items bring transported, which made me wonder who they were for. Usually on these sorts of ships they only carry one or two select items, like the East India Trading Company does. But it seemed that the supplies were more specialized, for a party perhaps? It seemed rather extravagant that such supplies would need to be shipped in from elsewhere. Regardless, the men were taking everything they could, and started bringing it back over to our ship. My brain told me to go back inside, but my gut told me to stay and help. There were a lot of crates to handle. The men started a chain along the gangway they created, and passing the supplies between them, as the first crate got to the ship, I dropped the cutlass, ran forward, and offered to take it. "You sure you're strong enough lass?" A man I thought was called Edward asked. "I would hope so," I replied, taking it from him and walking it over to the middle of the ship, before going back for more. Eventually we got to the last few, and it was only Kidd and Loki on the merchant ship, who were addressing the crew. From what I could make out, they were going to let them go, and I breathed a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding. I understood piracy meant killing some... but the idea of murdering an entire crew because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time seemed unfair. They went round cutting the crew loose, before standing before them again, bowing theatrically, and heading towards the gangway. But as they both turned, one of the crew pulled out a gun, aiming straight for the back of Loki's head. I went to scream his name in warning, but before I could even collect my breath, Loki had turned and shot the man in the head. "Anyone else?" He shouted, voice tense, but his manner calm and collected, his hand steady despite just killing a man. "Let's go, Kidd." Once they were both on the ship, the gangways were pulled in and the anchor drawn up. It took a few minutes for Loki to acknowledge I was standing by, watching him closely. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly as he looked at me. "Quite fine. It certainly isn't the first time it has happened, nor will it be the last." His voice still sounded tense, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Loki looked me over, smirking a little as he crossed his arms almost triumphantly. "Did you help bring the crates on?" "Was I not supposed to?" He laughed at this and put his arm around my waist as he lead me over to the pile of crates, which all the men were eyeing with eagerness. "What was the shipment for?" "Army." He went over to the nearest crate and pried it open, revealing the red uniform of the British Army. "I didn't realize we were at war," I said quietly, reaching down and picking up the coat on top. It seemed so inappropriate, no matter where they were fighting. "We are always at war." He put the lid back on, his body slightly defeated. "But there's enough supplies here to feed the crew for a while, and enough to spare for a celebration," Loki grinned down at me, "if you are up for it, of course." "Always," I grinned back up at him. "Then I do hereby order a celebration," he announced to the ship, and then, leaning in, he said quietly to me, "and I do humbly request a dance from the most beautiful woman on this ship." "There's hardly a basis for comparison," I laughed as I hit his arm lightly. "But yes, I accept your request." He grinned and took me into a waltzing stance, swaying me from side to side. "Oh, there should be some new clothes for you. It will be a stripped down Army uniform though," he said quietly, still swaying me from side to side. "Though you do look cute in that dress." I smiled, a blush rising to my cheeks. "Well, I look forward to being able to actually move about properly." As I said this he swung me out to the side before bringing me back in and holding me closer than before, his chest pressed up against mine, and his hand holding my waist tightly. A few minutes later, he leg me go and bowed, kissing my hand. "I'll leave the rest for tonight," he said, the characteristic smirk spreading across his face. "Now, clothes," he turned back to the crate he had originally opened and sorted through them, taking out some trousers and a shirt. "There's a sewing kit in my quarters if you need to take the trousers in a bit." He passed the clothes to me, our fingers brushing slightly and, despite the intimate moments we have shared, it still sent butterflies to my stomach. "I shall go and sort these out then, for tonight," I winked at him before walking into his quarters, putting the clothes on the table as I walked around trying to find the kit. I eventually found it and started to get to work, mending the trousers to fit better. As I was sat down, stitching the waist in, my mind was able to wander around for a little. I started to think about my family back home, more specifically my mother, who must be worried sick. My father, I was sure, would be able to get over it within a few days time. I then began to reflect on all that had happened. Not only had I run away from home and joined a pirate ship, I had also witnessed a man being killed. The severity of what I had seen finally sunk in, and it was only my pricking myself that brought me out of the feeling. I sucked on my finger as I thought about the man's slumping body against the wood of the ship. The stillness of Loki's arm. But this was what I had signed up for, wasn't it? If I was going to weasel out at the first sign of death then I would never be able to achieve my dream. Yet, the coldness of Loki's manner afterwards continued to disturb me. I took my new clothes into the bedroom and closed the door behind me, before changing out of my dress and into the uniform. The trousers were uncomfortable to say the least, however if it meant I had more freedom of movement I would happily wear slightly scratchy clothes. The shirt itself was not too bad, and hung loosely around my body. A knock at the door sounded, and then Loki's voice. "Are you alright? The party is nearly starting." "How long have I been away?" I asked, suddenly aware of the darkening sky. "Are few hours," he said, his voice closer than before. "You know if you have any concerns you can talk to me." The doors creaked as he leaned against them, he then slid down, and the soft thump of his head against the door compelled me to sit in a similar position on my side. "How many men have you killed?" I asked quietly. A sigh came from the other side, his fingers tapping on the wood of the floor. "Over a hundred. I lost count. But you can bet I remember every single face." My breath hitched in my throat. "Do you regret it?" "Some of it," he paused, and his fingers stopped tapping. "But this is an evening meant for making happy memories," he stood up and I mirrored him. "May I see you?" I opened the door, striking a pose when we were face to face. "The trousers are a bit uncomfortable, but I like it," I said, grinning. "You look amazing," he grinned. "My Pirate Queen." "Aren't you going to escort me to the dance, Your Majesty?" He smiled and offered his arm, our conversation minutes before seemingly forgotten. We walked together onto the deck of the ship, food laid out on top of empty crates haphazardly, and the realization I hadn't eaten in almost a day finally sunk in. "Ravenous?" He whispered in my ear, chills running down my spine, but whether it was the cold air or his breath I couldn't tell. "So very," I whispered back. He outstretched his hand. "It's all yours for the taking," and I had a feeling he wasn't just talking about the food.

-------

Want to request an imagine?

Send me a song and a character and I’ll write a story!

Taglist:

@fuckthatfeeling @aliebestraum @laeticafe03 @fakelchv @m4shtyx @fire-in-her-veinz @huntersvibe

#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #reader insert #high tide #high tide chapter 4 #marvel #pirates #pirate loki #pirate au #pirate queen

23 notes · View notes

artisticsarcasm · 7 years ago

Text

I was tagged by the amazing @allskynostars!!!

RULES: You must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people.

THE LAST:

1. Drink: Apple Juice for the win

2. Phone call: My mom

3. Text Message: “Thank you for the apple juice and milk!!!” to my friend 😂

4. Song you listened to: Waves - Dean Lewis

5.Time you cried: last night, eyes randomly started burning

6.dated someone twice: Never have

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Ha! I’ve never kissed anyone to regrette it

8. Cheated on: never, to my knowing

9.lost someone special: long time ago

10. Been depressed: yesterday

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: nope i hardly ever throw up

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS

12-14. black, deep purple, inferno red

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: yes, surprisingly

16. Fallen out of love: Nopety nope nope

17.laughed until you cried: every single week

18. Found out someone was talking about you: more than likely

19. Meet someone who changed you in a good way: No…just no

20.found out who your friends are: yeah it was surprising

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: no

GENERAL:

22. How many of your facebook friends do you know: none because i don’t have facebook.

23. Do have any pets: Harley D. My puppy

24. Do you want to change your name: not worth it, I’d rather not

25.what did you do for your last birthday: photoshoot then ate food i fucking love food

26. What time did you wake up: 2:25 had to pee and it woke me up

27.what were doing at midnight last night: who knows, sleep more than likely

28.name something you can’t wait for: FUCKING SEASON 2 OF RIVERDALE AND MORE BUGHEAD

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: this morning

31. What are you listening to right now: My loud ass dryer nothing else

32.have you ever talked to a person named tom: yes he’s an ass

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: People

34.Most visited website: Currently either Tumblr or YouTube

35.-37: no question here the world may never know

38. Hair color: naturally-brown,

currently- reddish brown,

soon to be- black and purple

39. Long or short hair: short

40.Do you have a crush on someone: No…

41. What do you think about yourself:

I shall use an excerpt from the song fix you by coldplay- “ when you try your best but you don’t succeed”

42. Piercings: like them on other people but they aren’t for me

43. Blood type: human

44.Nickname: Lyn, Kenna, Kentcity

45. Relationship status: Food is Love, Food is Life

46.Zodiac: Aquarius

47. Pronoun: she/her

48. Favorite Tv show: …Riverdale, Raising Hope, the office, and Glee

49. Tattoos: nope

50. Right handed or left handed: rrrrrrright!

51. Surgery: yep, mainly when i was younger though

52. Piercings: hmmm deja vu much, anyway nope

53. Sport: surprisingly yes i took up color gaurd

55. Vacation: Ha! I wish

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: Nothing

58. Drinking: Apple juice

59. Im about to: read bughead fanfiction and maybe paint

61. Waiting for: Fucking Riverdale season 2 and Bughead confirmed as anchor couple

62. Want: food, true Happiness… but mainly food

63. Get married: more than likely not 😂

64. Career: I want to go into theatre

65. Hugs or kisses: neither not a fan of human contact

66. Lips or eyes: eyes, they are more intriguing to look at

67.Shorter or taller: shorter

68.Older or younger: Older, I’m ready to take over world despite my social anxiety, and my horrible social interactions

70. Nice arms or nice stomach: uuuuuhhh..stomach i guess

71. Is no longer in session

72. Hookup or relationship: I’d fail miserably with both but relationship i suppose

73. Troublemaker or hesitant: bit of both unless i don’t care then it’s neither

HAVE YOU EVER

74. Kissed a stranger: No

78. Sex on the first date: that would require a first date, i don’t go out on the dating scene like at all

79. Broken someone’s heart: yeah, it was awful

80. Had your heart broken: yeah, probably why i don’t date

81. Been arrested: nope

82. Cried when someone died: yes, Leo Valdez, Leonard Snart, and so many other poor fictional characters

83. Fallen for a friend: yeah, just got over it actually

DO YOU BELIVE IN

84. Yourself: Barley

85. Miracles: yeah

86. Love at first sight: absolutely not

87. Santa clause: [still questioning]

88. Kiss on the first date: i don’t see a problem with it if you both wanna kiss then Kiss

89. Angels: sure do!

OTHER:

90. Current best friend’s name: Rikki

91. Eye color: brown

92. Favorite movie: White Chicks, or Would you rather, I’m a sucker of comedies and torture movies

I’m tagging

@iamdarkandtwisty @itstenafterfour @pappypipedream @bughead-fics @bugheadasfuck @drknes @bughead-riverdale @wishtoconfess @jugheads-bettyc @bugheadauproject @heytherejones @soundsnaked @betsjuggiecooperjones And that's all I've got in me not that good at gethering names and all, sorry if you've already been tagged, sorry and have a great day 😍

3 notes · View notes

suzannemcappsca · 6 years ago

Text

Optimism in Mediation: Part I – The Captain Goes down with the Ship

Martin Svatoš

You are usually at a disadvantage for you will take over the boat in midst of the conflict storm without having the chance to prepare the crew and to check on the ship. Yet you are charged to navigate the vessel through all perils of misunderstandings, mistrust, and perceptions. It takes time to make sure your course is correct. You have to watch for small signs revealing directions – be it a familiar shape of the land of interests, the lighthouse of apology or little buoys represented by small concessions. And then, as the gale of dispute turns in a breeze of negotiation, you see you are in safe waters once again. You shall never abandon your optimism. For if a captain is lost, so is the whole ship. You are not the one who should give up. Remember, the captain goes down with the ship.

The Importance of Being Optimist

Last week in Paris, I had the opportunity to participate in the 14th edition of the ICC Mediation Competition that was accompanied by a rich additional programme. Once again, this event proved to be full of challenging negotiation simulation led by students from literally all around the world. Apart from the main programme, one was able to engage in roundtable discussions, challenging workshops and countless little encounter with fellow mediators during coffee and lunch breaks. Those little chats gave an opportunity for a gathering of inspiring thoughts and ideas and the only pity was that one cannot recall all of them. However, I retained one especially remarkable. It was a discussion of the indispensability of optimism in mediation.

Optimism is a mental attitude reflecting a belief or hope that the outcome of some specific endeavour, or outcomes in general, will be positive, favourable, and desirable. As such, it is an inseparable part of our personality and is both determined by genetic predispositions and acquired through conditioning and impact of the social surroundings. While the psychologists do not agree on what influence the state of our optimism, they do agree on the positive aspects this characteristic proves to have to our life. Countless studies substantiated that being optimistic improves people’s health, work performance, and other factors relevant to social mobility. Optimistic persons also proved to be more successful students and businesspersons.

Optimist and Pessimist

Despite the lack of similar empirical survey, one would bet the optimistic negotiator would be more successful than pessimistic ones. When it comes to dispute resolution, the ante is even upped. I believe you have to be optimistic (not naive!) to be a good and efficient mediator. And there is a couple of reasons for this statement.

An optimist and a pessimist, Vladimir Makovsky, 1893

First of them is a subjective perception of the disputants. There is a wonderful painting by a Russian artist Vladimir Makovsky called Optimist and Pessimist. I usually show that picture to my trainees and ask them, which of those two persons would be more probably picked up as a mediator by a reasonable third party should the pool of mediators be limited only to this couple. While this is obviously a hard task to do as the respondents are not allowed to question the respective persons’ experiences, training, and skills, the vast majority of attendees opts for the optimistic one without any hesitation. The second (and more important) reason is the faith in the procedure itself. The disputants are coming to the mediation table with distrust to the other party, often stressed and in an emotionally difficult state. Let’s suppose, the parties have met prior to mediation and tried to reach an agreement. They failed. This scenario should be (from the optimistic perspective) read as at least two good signs:

1) The parties showed a will to reach an amicable settlement although for the time being failed. 2) Furthermore, they have found their way to a mediator.

Despite this, the only thing the disputants bear in mind is a purely pessimistic evaluation of their situation. Following are the sentences I am hearing quite often in the early stage of mediations: “Clearly, the settlement of our case is difficult or even impossible.” or “We believe mediation is a useful tool, however, we have tried negotiation by ourselves and were not able to reach an agreement…Mediation will not help in this case…”

Reasonably Optimistic Skipper

Sea wave during storm Designed by bearfotos / Freepik.com

In contrast, mediators must have faith and confidence in the process. In the case they are fully invested into mediation, faith and hope will also transfer to the parties. No need to add, that pessimistic and distrustful mediators will mirror their perception to disputants and make the possibility of settlement even more difficult.

Back in 2009, we were sailing in Balt when a storm accompanied by a gale appeared. The sea turned rough quite quickly and high waves with dense streaks of foam were just terrifying. Our captain, an experienced sea-dog and friend of mine remained calm and optimistic during all the journey. He kept giving us instructions and tasks with good humour. Later that day, after having safely anchored in the marina, we had an interesting conversation:

– “Frankly, were you not frightened…? You did not even look concerned…” I asked him. – “Well, I was aware of all perils we had to tackle but I was sure of my ship and of the educated and well-prepared crew. Should this be different I would never dare to come offshore. You have to be reasonably optimistic as a skipper.”

Today, I believe this concept of reasonably optimistic skipper should apply in mediation too. Though it is not always an easy task. You are usually at a disadvantage for you will take over the boat in midst of the conflict storm without having the chance to prepare the crew and to check on the ship. Yet you are charged to navigate the vessel through all perils of misunderstandings, mistrust, and perceptions. It takes time to make sure your course is correct. You have to watch for small signs revealing directions – be it a familiar shape of the land of interests, the lighthouse of apology or little buoys represented by small concessions. And then, as the gale of dispute turns in a breeze of negotiation, you see you are in safe waters once again. You shall never abandon your optimism. For if a captain is lost, so is the whole ship. You are not the one who should give up. Remember, the captain goes down with the ship.

Life Orientation Test

In the first part of this post, I wanted to share with you some thoughts as to the necessity and nature of optimism in mediation. In the other one, I would like to write about some hints in relation to keeping and even improving optimism in mediation. While waiting for it you might be interested in measuring the optimism of yours. There are numerous ways how to do it, yet the most often used is known as The Life Orientation Test invented by Michael F. Scheier and Charles S. Carver. Its reviewed version is based on answering ten simple questions:

1. In uncertain times, I usually expect the best. 2. It’s easy for me to relax. 3. If something can go wrong for me, it will. 4. I’m always optimistic about my future. 5. I enjoy my friends a lot. 6. It’s important for me to keep busy. 7. I hardly ever expect things to go my way. 8. I don’t get upset too easily. 9. I rarely count on good things happening to me. 10. Overall, I expect more good things to happen to me than bad.

To all those questions, you are supposed to give an answer on the scale (0 Strongly disagree – 1 Disagree – 2 Neutral – 3 Agree – 4 Strongly agree). While the counting of the points is quite complicated, you might be considering to use the following LOT-R Answer Sheet to come out with the results. I will be happy to know what are the outcomes, so if you are willing, do not hesitate to share either in comments or via email.

To be continued