#i’m feeding her a large bowl of soup and petting her on the head

[feliniakattus]

what would you do if you saw this thing staring at you?

[sola-whumping]

Umbran: The New Master

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, treating a whumpee as a nonperson, nonhuman whumpee, fae whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, nonsexual nudity (taking care of wounds)

Word count: 3,306

Nox woke slowly, his senses returning one by one. The first thing he was aware of was the soft surrounding him and the gentle hand running through his hair. The second thing he was aware of was the soft feminine humming, it was gentle and soothing like a summer breeze. He listened to the melody for a while, getting lost in the sound. He didn’t want to wake quite yet and fought the awareness that threatened to come for him. There would be pain waiting for him when he woke, he was sure of it. The last thing he was aware of was the tightness of the bandages around his chest and throat and the pain they caused him. He gave a small whine of discomfort. His bandages were not so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but not so loose that they were useless. Eventually, he was dragged to consciousness. 

“Good morning, Umbran, are you awake?” The humming had stopped in favor of speaking. Nox opened his eyes, remembering what had happened the day before. He had been sold again. 

“’M ‘wake.” He felt heavy, as if he’d been drugged. He vaguely remembered being bitten and recalled that this was the vampire, Evangeline. Gabrial had warned him about her. He tried to sit up, only to be eased back onto the bed. 

“You are hurt. You will answer my questions and rest. Once I am satisfied, you may have a bath and a meal.” The way she said it sounded a lot like mercy, though he knew there would be a catch. For the bath he expected ice water and to be held under. That’s what a bath had meant to Gabrial. The meal would surely be laced, if not outright poisoned. He was never fed that easily. Immediately suspicious but unable to do anything about it, he agreed. 

“What are your name and pronouns? I want to make sure I received the right creature.” Nox figured it was likely that she knew umbrans didn’t have any gender binary. Instead, they were physically non-binary, and while some leaned towards male or female (he leaned male), it was much more common that they were androgynous or didn’t fit the human stereotype at all. It was generally polite to ask an Umbrans pronouns or call them ‘they’ or ‘it’ instead of guessing. He also figured that Gabrial had promised her something better than him. 

“N-ox,” he croaked. His throat was dry and burned when he spoke. As soon as he made noise, the vampire lifted him and placed him in a sitting-up position. She put a cup of sweetened water to his lips, gently urging him to drink. 

He was grateful for the water. He hadn’t had any since before he was shipped. She turned cruel as soon as he tried to drink, only giving him a small bit of water at a time and then keeping the rest out of reach. Eventually, slowly, he drank the whole cup. He wanted more water. He was so dehydrated that he felt like he couldn’t get enough. He tried to ask for more, to plead if he had to, but his throat felt like fire, and when he made noise, he coughed weakly. 

His struggles were soon rewarded with another cup, filled with the same sugar water as the last. The only difference was that this one was a bit cooler and he was a bit less desperate. He still swallowed it down as quickly as he was allowed. 

The vampire gently reminded him of the question after the glass was stolen away once more. “Nox, m-ale pronouns,” he rasped. His throat felt a little better. He felt a little better. 

“Are you hungry, Nox?” He faintly realized he was desperate enough to not care if any food given to him was laced. Gabrial, his seller, had only ever fed him after he passed out and woke up again or in the days before shipping. He was more than hungry: he was starved. He gave a weak whine. He knew if she was asking that then she either intended to taunt and starve him or feed him, and he preferred the latter. 

She seemed to take the whine as his response, and in the next moment, there was a spoonful of something that smelled heavenly in his face. It was potato soup. He used to love potato soup. He was grateful to be allowed to eat something warm when he hadn’t done anything to earn it yet.. Something that wasn’t moldy bread was a treat in itself. 

He tried to rush and comply before she had a chance to change her mind about feeding him, trying to make it easier and maybe even feed himself. He failed. He was still heavy and weak and exhausted. All he managed to do was lean forward and open his mouth. His attempt was pathetic. 

“Good boy, that’s it. Easy, darling.”  She praised and cooed at him while he struggled for each bite. When the bowl was almost empty, she helped him drink bit more water before letting him finish the bowl. “Very good!” She ran her fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp. He was too weak to lean into the touch, but he felt a happy warmth in his chest. 

He hadn’t been called “good” or praised often, if at all, with Gabrial. It was no secret that the umbran hated him. He was often used as a plaything to beat around and hurt, rather than treated like the pets that were trained and sold. They got to find a forever home while he was rented for a party or a beating for a night or to someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted a Pet or not. He shivered at the memories and tried to focus on what was happening in the present. 

“Alright, sweetheart, it’s bath time. We need to clean those wounds and get you washed up.” Evangeline spoke to him as if he was a child. “Liam, darling, if you could.”

Suddenly, someone big and tall left the wall where they had been leaning and approached the bed Nox had been laying on. He hadn’t noticed them until they had moved and that worried him, he must be more out of it than he thought. He panicked slightly and keened in distress when he felt an arm slip under his knees and another tighten across his shoulders. He was lifted effortlessly- like he was weightless. Once he was picked up and stabilized, he could identify the figure as a tall human male- at least... he thought it was a male. Humans were supposed to have physical features that showed their preferred gender, but he could never tell. Gender was a human construct anyway. It was much better to learn the person rather than assuming. 

They spoke softly to him and he could feel their deep voice rumbling in their chest. “Hello, little birdy. My name is Liam.” Their arms felt strong around him and Nox almost felt… safe, being carried like this.

Nox gave a shy “Hello.” He liked Liam’s voice. They sounded calming and friendly even though their strength scared him. 

Nox was carried to another room. This one was painted a light blue. There was a big bathtub and shower. It was large enough that his wings wouldn’t be squished- if he still had them. He didn’t get to see the other half of the room until he was undressed and lowered into the already filled tub. There was a white foam on the top of the water that he considered beautiful. The water felt lovely. It was so warm that the heat immediately seeped into his bones. 

When he glanced up, something squeaked in his face, startling him badly and making him chirp in surprise. “Awww, Noxie, it’s just a rubber duck,” his master cooed at him, handing him a bright yellow toy. It was plastic and didn’t look at all like a duck. He squeezed it and startled himself again when it made a squeak sound.. He looked up to see her amused. 

He noticed some of the bubbles had clung to his arm when he moved. Curious, he licked it. It did not taste good at all despite how appealing it looked. His tongue stayed poked out as he recoiled. He heard his master laugh, and suddenly there was a dry towel wiping away the bubbles. 

“There, there, little darling, nothing to be distressed over.” She soothed. “Now we know that we can’t eat bubbles.” She sounded amused so Nox chirped at her, happy to have attention. 

He surveyed the water. If he was held under and waterboarded, it would be better than the cold water, right? Or would the bubbles compensate and make it worse. He couldn’t decide, so he figured he would have to wait and see. 

His master must have seen his expression because she spoke in a calm, soothing voice. “That’s Birdy bubble bath, made specifically not to hurt your feathers.” That hadn’t been what he had been worrying over- in fact, he hadn’t considered that the soap could hurt him at all-- but it was good to know. In response, he carefully lowered himself into the warm water, assuming that’s what she wanted him to do.  

Evangeline shielded his eyes and filled a cup with water before pouring it over him carefully to wet his hair. Then he felt something cold in the center of his hair. When he chirped a question, his master was kind enough to answer. 

“Just some shampoo, darling. I know I’m not supposed to use things like this on your hair, but I have to get the blood out somehow.” Her hands were gentle, not pulling or yanking even a little. He was fully expecting to be forced under, but- it hadn’t happened yet. The anticipation of waiting was almost as bad as the drowning itself. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He stayed still and quiet as the thing in his hair turned into more bubbles. They started white like the ones around him but soon turned a light pink. He was ordered to tip his head back, and upon complying, another cup of water was poured in his hair. 

This is it, this is where I get pushed under. He was in the perfect position; she could hold him under almost effortlessly like this. Not that he would fight at all. He was a good pet, and if she wanted to drown him, he’d stay under just like she wanted. 

“Sit up for me, treasure. I have to use conditioner, and then we will use the scrub brush and dry you up.” She led him up as he followed her guidance. As she had said, she put conditioner in his hair, carding her fingers through it as she went. 

Nox had to fight to stay still and not lean into the slight scratch of his scalp. He did adore being pet- not that he got the chance often. After she carded through his hair a bit, it became silky and smooth, though he knew it would be soft and fluffy once dried. 

She had him lean back again, shushing his little whimper as water got in his ears. He didn’t want to be drowned and this would be her best chance to do it. After this, she wouldn’t have to convince him back down into the water. He held his breath, but she only washed the conditioner gently from his hair. 

When he was let up again, he almost gasped out of shock. “Good job, little Birdy, you did very well for me. Now, I need you to stay still so I can clean your wounds. We don’t want them getting infected, now do we?” She hummed. 

Nox flinched. Cleaning wounds usually meant alcohol and painful healing and bandages wrapped so tight he couldn’t breathe. Getting an infection was usually kinder than the prevention methods. 

He flinched again when something gentle touched his back. His master placed a hand on his chest to stop him from moving away as she gently washed away the blood, cooing and soothing his whimpers when he started to get nervous. 

He was waiting for it to hurt, waiting for the salt and vinegar and alcohol to be poured. He wasn’t used to the gentle cloth wiping away his blood- not when he was still scared that the gentle touch would turn rough and rub his back raw. 

Nox took a breath to steady himself. Fear wouldn’t change the outcome. Whatever his master wanted to happen would happen and nothing he can do would change that. He took comfort in the helplessness. Nothing he could do would change anything, He repeated the words to himself, taking another deep breath and letting himself relax. Whatever will happen will happen. He focused on the hand on his chest and the cloth on his back, slowly cleaning the blood away. He took comfort in the helplessness. 

The water was a light pink now and some of his wounds had started bleeding again. His master pressed a cloth against the freshly reopened wounds to stem the bleeding and held it there until it had mostly stopped. 

When all the blood was gone, he was washed with something that smelled sweet and then taken out of the tub, only to be swiftly wrapped up in a warm towel. It was a dark color so the blood didn’t stain and could be washed out later. The towel was also strangely warm. His master had placed it on an odd sideways stand that radiated heat while he had been in the bath, presumably for that purpose. Regardless, he was grateful..

Nox was dried up and his hair was brushed before he even knew what was happening. He was a bit shocked going from the warm water to the cold air so quickly. He started to tremble from the cold. “Shh, we’ll get you warmed up, just hold on,” his master cooed, connecting an odd-looking piece of plastic to the wall. 

She turned it on, causing warm air to blow from it as if it was magic, creating wind effortlessly. He flinched when the warm air was suddenly on his face, then in his hair, then on the feathers trailing down the back of his neck. The magic wind felt lovely. It was nice and warm, chasing away the cold. After a few minutes he stopped trembling, his hair no longer wet. 

His master brushed it out and ran a hand through the now fluffy black mixed with brown. Now that he was clean, they could see the colors in his hair blended and mixed, like a molted feather pattern rather than anything human. His master hummed at him, thinking he looked adorable with his head tilted curiously at the blow dryer. 

“Can you walk, or should Liam carry you again?” She asked as she gently coaxed him into putting on a fluffy hoodie and some sweatpants. She would worry about decorum later, right now, her pet was in need of comfort. She had some rather strong words for his seller. She had ordered a pet, not a slave, and had expected him to have been treated with kindness rather than shoved in a box and strangled. She shook her head. It was practically animal cruelty, and the creature was so sweet that she didn’t think he could have done anything to deserve it. 

Nox had gone from gazing at the magic wind creator to backing in the warm blanket and the feeling of being clean, only to be snapped out of it with the question. “I-I can try, master.” He sounded terrified, but he did his best to suppress it. He hadn’t been hurt yet, and he didn’t think he’d be cleaned and dressed only to get all bloody again. Surely they wanted him for something else first- at least, he hoped. He tried not to be scared; vampires could smell fear, and being scared always made hurt time worse. They liked when he was afraid. Sometimes Gabrial said that the only good things about him were his pretty tears and his pleading. 

She almost cooed at him, the poor dear was so skittish. He sounded terrified of picking wrong. “That’s alright, darling, you just focus on resting. I’ll give you your rules tomorrow and I’ll write an email to that trainer of yours. They’ve been far too cruel to you.” 

Nox immediately tensed up when he heard email. That meant he was getting sent back. He didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence, too caught up in what he did wrong to warrant being sent back. Why would they clean him if they didn’t want him? Unless- unless he had answered wrong. Maybe they wanted him to be cute and helpless and need help with walking. Surely he was hurt before arriving for a reason. “I- I meant only if I was allowed, master- I didn’t want to assume- I’ve been so arrogant-“ he kept cutting himself off, too anxious to finish his sentence. “I’m s-sorry, plea-please don’t send me back” he pleaded. If nothing else, he begged well and cried beautifully for his masters. He hoped desperately that somehow he would be allowed to stay. He felt hot tears slip down his cheeks, sparkling with pastel colors. He truly was a pretty crier. 

The shine of light caught Evangeline’s eye. “Oh, sweetheart, what happened? What’s wrong, darling?” She tipped his head up by his chin and wiped away his tears, hushing the distressed umbran. “What’s got you so upset?” 

“You- you’re going to send me back,” he cried, distressed. He had been told if he was sent back before the first week, he’d be whipped again- it hadn’t even been a day. He couldn’t take it again so soon. He wouldn’t be able to stand it and the pain was unbearable. He was terrified of what would happen, less scared of Gabrial but rather the consequences that came with it. 

Evangeline was startled by his terror. “Oh darling, sweet treasure, you’re not being sent back, love.” She took his face in her hands and wiped away his tears. “Now that you’re mine, I wouldn’t let you go so easily.” It sounded like a comfort, but it wasn’t worded like one. Nox didn’t know how to feel until he felt a hand making its way  through his soft hair. Slowly, he let himself calm down. 

“Maybe a choice this soon is too much for you. Would you like me to pick for you?” She sounded like she was talking to an upset three year old- and Nox responded like one, nodding slightly and giving a small “mhm” as he was pet. 

“That’s alright, darling.” She cooed, turning to Liam. “Could you carry him? The poor thing is distressed.” Liam obeyed, moving to pick Nox up effortlessly. 

He carried Nox to his room. Liam set Nox down on his side in a little nest made of blankets rather than on his back. Then he stepped back so Evangeline could see Nox. she sat in a chair by his bed and spoke softly to calm him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe. No one will hurt you here. I’m sure you’re very tired, so I’ll make this quick, alright, darling?” She grabbed a great big blanket and draped it over him. 

Nox had started to relax with the soft voice. He felt safer under the blanket. It was cozy and warm and made him feel secure. When he looked up at his new master, he was greeted with a kind smile and a kiss on the forehead. She trailed a hand gently down his face so he would close his eyes. 

“Night night, Noxie.” And just like that, he was out.

✨Masterlist✨

Taglist: @haro-whumps @poisoned-by-royalty @sunset-avenuer @wide-awake-but-comatose @whumpsy-daisies @misspelledwitch @string-of-broken-hearts @captainseconds @lave-whump @whumping-out-of-time

[bittybattybunny]

*drags self in* nyello bun mother of I’m not too late could I have a ☕️ for moon guardian?

“It’s liquid!” Eclipse gasped when she saw the meal on the table. She looked at the ghost who raised a brow.

“It’s soup. Of course it’s liquid.” he stated and pulled her chair out, “Pumpkin. I noticed it’d getting a bit chillier so I figured it’d be good.”

“I see.” she sat down and looked at the silverware, “Spoon yes? Can I just drink it?” she peeked at him with a curious smile, “I don’t think I’ve had it ever! This is new!” she giggled.

If he had a heart it’d have been beating. He ruffled her bangs, “sure you can drink it, but it’s hot. The spoon should help cool it on the way to the mouth, next time I’ll put it in a mug.”

“Oh neat!” she beamed. She took a spoon and dipped it in, before bringing it to her mouth. Blowing gently she placed it in and her face lit up. 

Snatcher puffed his chest proudly. So Soup was a good meal for her. He’d have to write that on the list of things she enjoyed eating.

“Oh i made bread too, when you were out getting those idiots on the edge.” he grabbed a knife to slice it. He lit the fire on his hand and toasted it lightly.

Eclipse stared intrigued by the blue fire, staring intently at it. The color seemed to reflect in the dark black iris of her right eye, giving the look of two blue eyes as she did. She continued to stare while holding the spoon in her mouth. He noticed when he set the toast down and looked at her quizzically.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” she stated as she grabbed the jam to spread out. She looked at the soup and her bread and dipped it in to the ghost’s delight. She beamed as she ate it and he couldn’t stop the gentle smile before he gasped.

“Oh yes. It’s a trait from my father.” he explained, lighting the fire up once more, “I don’t use it horribly often but it has uses. Guess my family is descended from some sun god or whatever.” he gave a shrug.

“R-really?!” she gasped, “so were you a priest or something before you died?! To have god blood! You must have been super important Snatcher!” she giggled as he felt his face glowing.

“Something like that I guess.” he shrugged but… He rubbed his neck, it was nice to be told that. He paused as he thought about it and covered his mouth ashamed. Why was it she was making him feel, of all things, warm?? He scoffed, causing a look of confusion to cross the woman’s face as she ate.

“Are you going to have some?” she asked as she dipped the bread again.

‘Ah… naw… I may snack on the bread but I don’t want to drink soup.” he shuddered and gripped his arms, “I like it well enough but there’s a texture issue for me.”

He thought back to when Vanessa would force feed him in the basement. He shuddered, stopping when eclipse held a piece of bread to him, jam spread on it. He took it confused as she smiled warmly at him. Once more the pinching in his chest returned as he sat down to eat it.

“Bread isn’t soup!” she grinned, but slowly she frowned and stopped eating.

“Eclipse… you okay?”

She put her hand to her mouth in thought, “is there a dish like this��� but thicker… large hunks of meat in it?” she closed her eyes in thought, “I remember carrots because I would pick them out.”

“Sounds like stew. It’s similar.” he thought about it, “carrots, meat, most likely potatoes too. Did you remember something?”

“I remembered a warm feeling and laughter.” she admitted playing with the spoon in her bowl, “I can’t see her face, but I think it was my mother who made it?” she had a soft but sad look on her face, “Using deer she had hunted herself.”

“Deer…?” he frowned, “deer huh…. Those are a sacred beast where I’m from, but venison stew was a thing. Shall I make that tomorrow? Will you hunt a deer for me?” He asked as he leaned on the table.

She looked at him and nodded with a big grin, “Yes! Please! Make it for me!”

“Alright. Tomorrow I’ll make your stew.” he reached to pet her head. She smiled as she leaned into his touch. “Well now I have an idea where you get that wild side from.” he snickered, “if your mother hunted!”

“They all did!” she chirped and he stared confused. She stared at him before her face turned red, “Oh I… I remember I had more than one mom.” she explained and played with her hands as she looked sheepish. “Mama was my mother who was with my papa… But mama had a bunch of partners who raised me. I can’t recall more but I know i had a lot of parental figures because my papa was working lots.”

“A big family unit?” he furrowed his brow, “Sounds odd to me but, I guess they must all be looking for---”

“They are all dead.”

He stared at her as she frowned at her food, her face now dark and gloomy, “I know for a fact, my family are dead.”

“Oh….” he scowled before reaching to hold her cheek. She leaned into his hand as he held her. “I guess same boat huh. My family is dead too. Then again so am I.”

“Mmhm…” she frowned, “what was your family like?”

“Well… it wasn’t close..” he sighed, “my mother was closer to me than my father….” he smiled softly as he recalled the woman, “my mother was a wonderful woman, intelligent and kind. She was a priestess originally, before wedding my father, used to serve the goddess of the moon. However my birth caused issues for her health and my father resented that.” he sighed heavily, “I don’t like my father. I’ll be blunt on that. He’s a fucking asshole of a man who…” he furrowed his brow, “killed his own father and family to get what he wanted.”

Eclipse gasped, and Snatcher pulled his hand away. He noticed that his fingers had split and he shook it to return the nub forms. 

“Yeah. wasn’t great. My father wanted a genius for a child, got me instead.” he sighed with a small smile, “so i got pushed hard.”

“I think you’re a genius!” Eclipse beamed, causing him to cackle.

“Your standards are low, your bar is on the ground.” he snorted as she laughed. But it felt good to be praised. He frowned. No that wasn’t right. The minions praised him all the time. But somehow when this idiot said it, it felt… good to be in her good graces.

“Oh reminds me! This idiot redid your contract system!” she laughed and finished eating. She licked her fingers off, laughing when he took a napkin to her face, “They are sorted by date signed now! I also sectioned off the ones likely to die soon based on age as well as the ones whose tasks are trickier. So you can get an idea of when you’ll get new souls!”

“Oh? Smart. I normally shove them all in a crate.”

“I know!” she huffed, “I’m going to ask midge next time in town for supplies to build a cabinet. I want to protect them better and get some boxes to keep the separated.” she explained, “I also want to redo your books. Right now you have them scattered, I don’t know how you find anything!”

“I look until i find it.” he leaned on his hand.

She huffed, “figured. So i’m gonna sort them by author alphabetically. As well as by the subject manner!” she gave a sharp smile.

“Alright. I’ll add it on your contract.” he held his hand out and she reached into her coat to hand it to him. He pulled the red quill out and noticed the huge grin she got.

“It writes well.” he noted as he added the clauses onto the parchment.

“Yay~!” she smiled, taking another slice of bread with glee. His tail thumped on the floor as they sat together. 

[broomballkraken]

Title: Excuses, Excuses, Chapter 2: Feverish Sickness

Fandom: Pokemon Sword/Shield

Pairing: Milo/Nessa

Word count: 3524

Warnings: None

Summary: Excuse #2: Nessa’s Feverish Sickness. As per tradition, a week before the opening ceremony of the Gym Challenge, all of the gym leaders travel to Motostoke to take the time to hang out and bond with each other, discuss serious Gym Leader matters, and even partaking in some friendly Pokemon battles. When Nessa wakes up with a fever on the third morning, she tries to hide it, but (un)fortunately for her, Milo catches on rather quickly.

The beginning of a new Gym Challenge was always something that Nessa looked forward to every year ever since she became a Gym Leader. It was exciting to see all of the eager new Challengers, ready to test their mettle as trainers and form lifelong bonds with the Pokemon that they caught and trained along the way.

Nessa was especially excited for the week before the opening ceremony. All of the Gym Leaders of Galar made the trek to Motostoke early to discuss important topics, such as any rule changes or resolving any issues that arose in the previous Challenge. That was necessary and all, but Nessa was glad when the serious stuff was dealt with so that the Gym Leaders could just hang out and have some fun together. And after two days of listening to Chairman Rose drone on about rules and regulations, she was ready to unwind with her friends.

It seemed that her body had other plans for her, however.

“Ugh.” Nessa groaned when she woke up in her hotel room, feeling like she hadn’t slept a wink. It was a chore to open her heavy eyelids, and she grimaced when she felt that her pajamas were drenched with sweat. She slowly pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, groaning again with discomfort as she held her head in her hands. Her face felt hot, and yet a violent shiver coursed through her, followed by a wave of nausea.

“Why now?” Nessa grumbled, pushing herself to her feet as she stumbled to the bathroom, careful not to trip over her Drednaw, who was snoring loudly from his place on the floor. Maybe a nice, hot shower would make her feel better.

After a few minutes standing stock still under the water, Nessa found out very quickly that it was definitely not helping, and she barely made it to the toilet before she vomited. After a minute of retching, she managed to compose herself, but she did not feel any better. Nessa dragged herself out of the bathroom and slowly got dressed, taking deep breaths when she started feeling nauseous again.

Of all the bad times to be sick! Nessa usually had a great immune system, and rarely came down with any sort of ailment. This was the first time that she had been sick while traveling alone as well. She always had someone to help her through her sickness, whether it was her parents back home or Sonia when they had been traveling partners during their Gym Challenge days. She bit her lip as panic welled up inside of her; she did not know what to do about this.

“Hey, Ness! Are you awake?”

Nessa jolted with surprise when someone knocked loudly on her door. It sounded like...Milo? She took a deep breath and straightened up, hoping to give the impression that nothing was out of the ordinary as she crossed the room and opened the door.

“Good morning!” Milo said cheerfully, the bright smile on his face causing her to smile as well, as hard as it was with the way she was feeling.

“Morning.” Nessa said, gritting her teeth as her stomach churned. Milo stared at her for a moment, and the smile fell from his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, frowning as his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Nessa tried to laugh it off as she struggled to keep smiling.

“Aha, of course I am! You...must be imagining things.” she said, waving a hand nonchalantly. Suddenly, a surge of dizziness pulsed through Nessa’s head, and she felt her legs give out from under her.

“Nessa!” Strong hands latched onto her arms to keep her from falling to the floor, and she groaned as she slumped against Milo, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh! You’re burning up!” Milo said after he had placed a large hand over Nessa’s forehead. She grumbled in response, too dizzy to form a proper sentence. Milo gently tugged Nessa’s arm over his shoulders and he helped her back into her room, heading straight for her bed and laying her down slowly. Her Drednaw had finally woken up, and he wandered over to the bed, staring up at his trainer as he let out a worried growl.

“I-I’ll be okay, Milo, really.” Nessa tried to argue, reaching down to pet her Drednaw’s head soothingly, “I’m sure it’s just a little-” Nessa’s stomach lurched, and luckily Milo had the quick reflexes to grab the nearby trash can and shove it into her lap so that she would vomit into it instead of all over the bed. She continued retching, feeling incredibly embarrassed for throwing up in front of Milo, but she felt a bit better about it when she felt a warm hand fall onto her back, rubbing gently until she stopped.

“Aw, Ness…” Milo said, taking the trash can from her and plucking a few tissues from the bedside table, using them to gently wipe her mouth. “You don’t have to act all tough about this. You’ll just make yourself sicker.”

“Sorry…” Nessa mumbled, feeling slightly guilty, “I don’t get sick often, especially not away from home…”

“Don’t worry!” Milo said, that bright, blinding smile returning to his face, “I’ll take care of you!”

“But Milo, you should go out and have fun with the others…”

“I can’t just leave you here when you’re sick! What kind of friend would I be then?” Milo said, shaking his head. Nessa felt her face heat up a bit, and she wasn’t sure if it was her fever flaring up, or something completely unrelated. Milo took the trash can into the bathroom to clean it out, and he waited there until she could change back into a pair of clean pajamas.

“There! Are you comfortable?” Milo asked after he had helped to tuck Nessa into bed. She nodded, yawning as a wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she smiled weakly when Milo helped her Drednaw climb onto the bed to settle down at her feet. She still felt guilty about all of this, but she did appreciate Milo’s willingness to help her out. He really was a kind and caring friend.

“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, but I might go out for a bit. Don’t worry! I’ll be back to check on you, and I’ll have my phone on me if you need me before then!” Milo said as he took one of Nessa’s hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Squeezing his hand back, Nessa let her eyes slide shut as Milo began chatting quietly about random things, like the recent happenings on his parent’s Wooloo farm or the fun Gym Challenge he had come up with for this year’s challengers. His voice was oddly calming, and soon enough, Nessa found herself drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

*

Nessa did not know how long she had been asleep, but what she did know was that she did not feel any better when she woke up. Cringing with discomfort, she only managed to lift her eyelids up halfway before her head started to hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, and she felt her Drednaw shift at her feet. Cracking open one eye, she saw that he was staring at her, and he let out a sad whine.

“Hey...it’s fine,” Nessa croaked out, her throat feeling scratchy and sore. Ugh, she felt even worse than before. She had forgotten how much she hated being sick. She sighed and tried to wriggle her arms - which felt like they had turned into lead - out from under the blankets; she was feeling overheated.

She continued her struggle, and was relieved when the door to her room opened. Milo was quickly at her side, his eyes scanning Nessa carefully.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Milo asked. Nessa groaned in response, and Milo smiled softly as he pulled the blankets down enough to finally free her arms. “That bad, huh?”

“I feel worse than before.” Nessa said, sighing deeply, “The bright side is that I don’t think I’m gonna throw up again.”

“Oh, good!” Milo said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he rummaged around in the bag he had with him, “If you think you can handle it, I did bring you some soup. But only try it if you think you can keep it down. I don’t want to accidentally make you even sicker!” Milo looked distressed at the thought, and Nessa giggled softly and started to push herself into a sitting position, with Milo quickly moving to help her.

“I’ll try it.” Nessa said, and she moved to take the steaming bowl from him, but he pulled it out of reach.

“It might, uh, be safer if I feed it to you. You seem to be shaking a bit.” Milo said, his face flushing pink, “Er, I mean, if that’s okay with you! I don’t, uh, want to make you uncomfortable at all…” Nessa opened her mouth to protest, feeling embarrassed at just the thought of it, but as she thought about it more, she realized that he was right. Spilling hot soup on herself really would not make this situation better, and there wasn’t anyone else around. Only Milo would know about this, and he wasn’t the kind of person to blab about what she did in her weak, sickly state to anyone else.

“Ah, okay, but do not tell anyone about this. Ever.” Nessa warned, pouting as she narrowed her eyes. Milo smiled and nodded, sticking his pinky out towards her.

“Of course! Here, I’ll even make it a pinky promise.” Milo said, and Nessa laughed as she locked her pinky with his.

“Good.”

Milo dipped the spoon into the hot soup, blowing on it to cool it off before he held it up to Nessa’s lips. She thought that she would have hated being so helpless and treated like a child unable to feed herself, but she was weirdly okay with it. She took a careful sip of the soup, not wanting to burn herself, and when she decided that it was cool enough to eat, she ate the entire spoonful. She sighed as the delicious soup spread warmth through her as she swallowed it, and she managed to eat a few more spoonfuls before her stomach started giving her warning signs to stop.

“I’m glad you were able to eat a little bit of it!” Milo said as he helped Nessa settle back into her cocoon of blankets. Milo noticed that Drednaw was staring at the soup bowl, and he chuckled. “You want the rest, buddy?” The turtle Pokemon let out a pleasant growl as he dropped to the floor, and Milo set the bowl in front of him. Nessa smiled fondly at her partner as he happily lapped up the soup.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Nessa cooed, giggling when Drednaw looked up at her, soup dripping from his chin as he chirped happily.

“Aw, you two really are cute!” Milo said, “Even off the battlefield, you two seem like the best of friends.”

“Oh yeah. Drednaw was my very first Pokemon, after all. We’ve been through a lot together.” Nessa said, and Drednaw beamed at her, before turning his attention back to the soup.

“I can tell!” Milo said, nodding his head. Nessa suddenly let out a deep yawn, and Milo pulled out his phone.

“Ah! It’s getting late. You should probably get some sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“9pm.”

Nessa groaned. Did she really sleep for the entire day. Ugh, and she didn’t even feel any better. What rotten luck.

“But…” Milo mumbled, rubbing at his neck as a dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks. “I’m...kinda worried about leaving you alone all night.” Nessa’s eyes widened as her face paled. She had never been alone for an entire night while sick before. The thought did make her rather nervous.

“Um, Milo…” Nessa said, averting her gaze as she blushed. “Will...will you, ah, stay here with me...tonight?” By Arceus, this was embarrassing. Milo was going to think she was a giant weirdo.

Milo smiled softly, his green eyes filled with a patient understanding. “Yeah! I can do that for you, Nessa. Um, just let me go get my stuff. Here!” He pulled out a pokeball and opened it, an Eldegoss popping out and settling softly on the edge of the bed.

“You and Drednaw keep an eye on Nessa until I get back, okay?” Milo said, petting Eldegoss’s head. The grass type chirped in response, turning to look at Nessa with a smile on his face.

“I’ll be right back!” Milo said, and he quickly left the room. Nessa smiled softly, turning her attention to Eldegoss, who blinked at her and tilted his head curiously.

“Your trainer really is a great guy, you know?” Nessa said, reaching out with a shaky hand to gently pet the fluffy cotton of Eldegoss’s head. He squeaked happily, and hummed with approval as she continued to pet him. The cotton was so soft, and Nessa found herself wondering if Milo’s fluffy hair was just as soft. She continued running her fingers over Eldegoss, her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier as time passed.

“I’m back!” Milo announced when he stepped back into Nessa’s room. Nessa smiled as he walked over to the bed, depositing the blankets and pillows he had with him on the floor. “Do you need help getting ready for bed?” Nessa nodded, and after Milo helped her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, he settled her back down into bed, and her eyes immediately closed.

“Hey, Milo?” she whispered, cracking open her eyes slightly to meet his, “Thank you so much, for everything. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as sweet as you.” He sputtered and she giggled as her eyes shut again.

“Aw, shucks, Ness. You’re pretty great yourself. Sleep well.” he said, and Nessa reached out, her arms still shaking with the effort, and she slipped her hand into his. He squeezed her hand softly and used his free hand to gently rub the back of hers. It was a soothing touch, and soon Nessa slipped off to sleep with a content look on her face.

Milo watched as Nessa fell asleep with a fond smile on his face. He stayed still for a moment, just watching as her entire body relaxed and her breathing evened out. He gently slipped his hand out of hers and tucked her arm back under the blankets. He glanced back at her face, and he reached over to brush away a few strands of that pretty dark blue hair that had fallen over her forehead.

“Beautiful…” Milo mumbled. He blinked a few times before he realized what he had said, and his face flushed a bright red. He turned to see that both Drednaw and Eldegoss were staring at him, and he frantically waved his hands in front of him.

“D-Don’t tell her I said that!” he whispered, rubbing his neck as he looked away. Drednaw narrowed his eyes and huffed, settling down to sleep at Nessa’s feet. Eldegoss let out a quiet, high pitched chirp, and Milo pouted when he realized that he was laughing at him.

“Milo…”

Milo froze when he heard his name, and turned to see Nessa, thankfully still fast asleep, but his heart leapt into his throat at the absolutely breathtaking smile that was on her face. Milo was stunned for a moment, but he composed himself and stood up, heading to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. When he returned, his Eldegoss had made himself comfortable on Drednaw’s back, and Milo was surprised that the turtle Pokemon allowed that. Eldegoss looked at him and chirped out a laugh again, and Milo just waved a hand at him before settling onto the pile of blankets on the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Milo said, and he chuckled when Eldegoss smiled at him and closed his eyes, his snoring soon joining Drednaw’s. Milo finally settled into bed, and was quick to drift off to sleep, the beautiful smile of a certain water-type Gym Leader filling his dreams.

*

Nessa sighed as she woke up, letting out a deep yawn as she stretched out her long limbs. A wave of relief washed through her as she realized that she was no longer sore or nauseous or unnaturally sweaty. It seemed that her sickness had finally passed.

She got out of bed slowly to make sure that standing up wouldn’t trigger any sickness that might still be hiding within her. Everything felt normal, and she smiled brightly as she stretched out, glancing at Drednaw and Eldegoss, who were still sleeping together on the bed.

“Milo?” Nessa wondered aloud. She looked down at the side of the bed where he had slept, and found that all the blankets and pillows he had used were folded and stacked neatly next to the bedside table. Milo was nowhere to be found. But, his Eldegoss was still here, so he probably hadn’t gone far.

Nessa took the time to finally take a much needed shower and freshen up. When she was all dressed for the day, she heard a knock on the door, and Milo walked in shorty after.

“Ness! Good morning!” Milo said, beaming as he quickly walked over to her. “You’re looking so much better!”

“Yeah, I feel so much better.” Nessa said, tilting her head curiously when Milo held a bottle out to her.

“Here! Kabu gave me this to give to you. It’s a Sitrus Berry Smoothie. He said it should help keep you sickness from coming back.”

“Thanks.” Nessa said as she took the bottle and opened it, taking a small sip. She hummed in approval at the delicious flavor.

“You feeling up for hanging out with the others today? They’ve already gone to get breakfast, but we can probably still make it in time to eat with them if we hurry.” Milo said as he walked over to the bed and returned Eldegoss to its pokeball. Nessa did the same for Drednaw, and when she had gathered her things, they left the room and Nessa locked the door.

“Ah, I really do feel so much better.” Nessa said, smiling down at Milo as they started walking down the hall. “Thanks again for taking care of me, Milo.”

“You’re welcome! I’m glad I could help. You just looked so sad and miserable yesterday. I just had to do something.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” When they stopped to wait for the elevator, Nessa wrapped her arms around Milo and pulled him into a hug. Milo froze with surprise, but he recovered quickly and returned the hug, his strong, warm arms making Nessa feel oddly safe and secure.

As they hugged, Nessa’s cheek brushed against Milo’s hair. ‘Huh, it really is as soft as his Eldegoss…’ Nessa thought, and a giggle escaped her before she could stop it.

“What’s so funny?” Milo asked, pulling away as he tilted his head and gave Nessa a quizzical look. She felt her face heat up as she turned away and cleared her throat.

“Uh, it’s nothing…”

“Are you sure you’re feeling better? Your face is all red.”

“I’m good!” Nessa quickly said, laughing sheepishly as she rubbed at the back of her neck. “Ah, hey, here’s the elevator! We really should get going to meet everyone for breakfast. You said we were already running late.”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go! I know everyone will be happy to see you!” Milo said, grinning as he held his arm out towards her after they had stepped into the elevator. “If you’re still feeling a bit dizzy, you can hang onto my arm for a while if you want.” Nessa wanted to tell him that she was fine, but her body seemed to move of its own accord as she placed her hand in the crook of his arm.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime! Oh! We’ll have to get another selfie with everyone today! I told Raihan that we should wait until you could join us, but he insisted on taking one yesterday.”

“Let me guess: He said that he was looking exceptionally hot and needed to capture the look right then and there?”

“Ha! Yeah, pretty much.”

Nessa and Milo laughed as they headed to breakfast, chatting about anything and everything along the way. Nessa felt exceptionally happy, and she was sure that it had everything to do with the passing of her sickness, and absolutely nothing to do with the wonderful man whose arm she held because of the dizziness that she was not experiencing.

[anchoritegervas]

Draecember Day 11- Horde

Dalaran’s Legerdemain Lounge brewed the best coffee in the city.  They were always open, a fact that Gervas took advantage of every time he passed through. This time, he’d been called in to help a mage whose mind had been injured through a mishap with some kind of experiment.  

Gervas suspected it involved trying to break the mental defenses of another mage, and losing, judging by the damage.  It had amounted to a very late, very tiring night for him, regardless of what the man had actually been doing.  Hungry and too keyed up to go to sleep, despite being exhausted, he headed to the one place that stayed open and served coffee.  “Do you still have the kind that doesn’t keep you awake?”

Amisi nodded, taking a large mug from the shelf below the counter.  “Did you want food, too?”

“Yes, please.  Soup if you have it?”

“Of course.” She smiled, her gaze drifting down to his missing arm.  “I’ll bring everything over to your table for you, don’t worry.”

Gervas grinned at her and looked around for an open seat.  Even this late at night, most of the tables were full. By the look of it, the taverns had mostly closed and driven customers over here, leaving him with the option of sitting next to a cranky looking mage at the bar, or a table in the back that had one occupant and an empty seat.  He’d had enough of cranky mages for one night.

He walked over the table, getting an immediate wary look from the orc sitting there.  Her axe rested against the wall behind her.  “Do you mind if I sit,” he asked, in Orcish.

“No, as long as you’re not looking for a fight.” She paused after she said that, eyeing him carefully and with complete confidence as to what the outcome of that fight would be if he started anything.

“I’m not looking for a fight.”  Gervas leaned his staff next to the axe and settled into the chair, yawning.  “I’m too tired. And I’ve had my fill of fighting recently.”

“Healer?” she asked, sizing him up, her gaze also lingering on the missing arm.  “One who’s good at finding trouble, yes.  I’m Gervas.”

“Anchorite, then.  My name’s Rukha.”  She didn’t offer her hand to clasp.  “I saw some of your people fight before the Lich King died.  Useful.  Good fighters, most of them.”

Gervas nodded, grinning when he realized that she wasn’t including him in her good fighters category.  “I was assisting a unit from the Seventh Legion until I got injured.  Don’t pet frostwyrms, by the way.”

“No, not unless it’s with an axe.”  Rukha barked laughter and pulled a flask from her belt.  She poured a hefty dose of a strong smelling spirit into her mug and after a moment of consideration, offered it to Gervas.

“I’ll pass.  I’ve got more patients to see tomorrow and can’t drink right now.”

Rukha grunted.  “Bad form for healers to be drunk, I guess.”

“It is.”  Gervas smiled, and then concentrated on eating, wolfing down the bowl of soup as if he hadn’t seen food in days.  He could feel the mildly disapproving gaze from his table companion, but didn’t trouble himself about it. Not until a plate of roast beef, potatoes, and another mug of coffee appeared in front of him, at least.  He looked up in surprise.

“You need meat.  Not soup.  Take better care of yourself and quit eating food that I wouldn’t even feed to a prisoner.  Idiot.”

With that, Rukha got to her feet, slung the axe over her shoulder, and strode out of the lounge.

[tomimagines]

In Sickness and In Health

Characters: Tom Holland - Y/N

Request: “can you write a cute imagine where tom takes care of you when you’re sick??” - anon

Notes: Cute, fluffy, kind of short / several people have requested this kind of imagine so i hope you guys like it! 

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

You feel incredibly hot but yet your skin crawls with goosebumps as you pull the covers up to your face. A shiver runs all the way down your spine before the aching in your head starts again.

Your phone goes off again but you don’t have the strength to move right now. Any exposure to the air out of your blanket will give you pneumonia for sure.

You brace yourself as several coughs escape your throat, scratching its walls painfully. You groan and feel the urge to cry but you hold it in because you know that with tears, a stuffed nose always follows.

You feel something nudge your leg and then whimper. “No, Tessa,” you cough twice, “I don’t want to get you sick.”

Can dogs even get sick from a human?

Tessa is with you for the weekend but if you had known you were going to get this sick, you would have told Tom to wait until the next weekend.

Tessa lays her head on your legs and it’s enough to spread some warmth on you and you feel grateful.

Your phone starts ringing again and you promise yourself that you’d call your mom later, after the chills are gone.

Suddenly, you hear the rattle of a door and your heart immediately goes into overdrive. Tessa’s head perks up but she doesn’t bark, which is unusual. She always barks at strangers. You go into panic mode but you lay completely frozen in your bed.

The door opens and then closes.

Silence.

You hear footsteps coming your way and you try to look with your eyes for the nearest weapon… nothing.

The doorknob turns and the door opens slowly.

“Y/n? Are you in here?”

Your heart goes back to normal as you let out a sigh of relief. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Yes, I’m in here,” you reply just as Tessa jumps from the bed and dashes towards the door.

Tom steps inside wearing the usual sweatpants he wears for bed. He has a black sweater on, the hood pulled up to his head. He leans down to caress Tessa’s face, Tessa appreciating him back with wet kisses.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ve been calling you all day. I came home a day early and wanted to see you but you never answered. I got worried.”

This warms your heart but then you shake your head. “I’m alive. Well, almost. You can’t stay here, Tom. I don’t want to get you sick, or Tessa.”

“Can dogs get sick from humans?” He asks and you smile, remembering why you love him so much. “What’s wrong, though? Do you have a fever?”

He starts to unzip his sweater and removes it just as he starts to walk to your side. You shake your head frantically and lean back into the pillows as far as you can. “Thomas Stanley, stop. I’m fine!” With the last word, you go into a coughing fit which leaves your throat burning.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing!” He sits on the bed beside you and reaches for your forehead. You shut your eyes tightly, dreading the coldness from his hands. Surprisingly, his hand feels pleasant against your skin. “Shit, y/n. You’re burning up. You need to take off the covers so you can cool off.”

“No! I’m cold,” you whimper, pulling the covers closer to your body. “Honestly, Tom. I don’t want you to catch this. You may need to leave suddenly for filming and-”

“Then I’ll postpone and stay in sick with you.” He gives you the sweetest smile and then tries to pry the covers from you again. You start to shiver and Tom hands you the sweater he had taken off. “Put it on and join me in the kitchen.”

You groan but take his sweater anyway. You sit up and put it on; it fits a little too big but it’s comforting. The cold hadn’t taken your smelling senses away yet so you were able to inhale his scent but not before you let out a sneeze. “Can’t I stay in bed and just watch you from here?”

He looks down at you and chuckles. He leans down and kisses your cheek softly. “You’re not allowed to go to sleep, though. I’m making you some warm soup.”

“Soup sounds really good, actually. But you don’t really have to. We can always just order in,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “Are you kidding? Homemade soup is the official remedy for… well, for anything! Just let me take care of you, please?”

You stare at him as his hand finds yours and he squeezes your fingers gently. You smile and roll your eyes before you agree, “Fine!”

He laughs the cutest laugh you had the pleasure to hear and then turns to Tessa. “What about you Tessa? Will you join me in the kitchen or stay with the sicko?”

“I hate you,” you murmur, laughing and then coughing some more. Tom only smirks and winks at you.

Tessa hops back onto the bed and places her head on your lap once again. Tom shakes his head, leaving the room and then shouting over his shoulder, “I swear you’re stealing her from me.”

You chuckle and pet the top of Tessa’s head. You look down the hallway that opens up to the kitchen and watch as Tom begins to place water in a pot. You sigh with content, wondering how lucky you are to have met Tom so many years ago. The friendship you kindled was one of a kind and it happened so naturally. You were both barely opening up to the idea of maybe one day dating but you were taking it day by day, seeing how things went.

But right now, seeing him chop vegetables in your kitchen, humming whatever song is in his head right now, you couldn’t see yourself being with anybody else.

After two episodes of The Office, Tom finally comes back into your room holding a large bowl. You sit up in bed and watch him set the bowl down on your bedside table.

“Are you going to feed me, now?” You joke and it makes him laugh.

“No. You’re sick, not invalid. I’m getting my own bowl. Now, eat. It’s getting late and I really want to cuddle you to sleep ever since I landed.”

You laugh as your face grows warmer than it already is.

You both eat together, him sitting next to you in bed, as he tells you stories about him and Harrison on set. The soup is perfect as it soothes your aching throat. The warmth spreads through your whole body and your constant shivers go away.

“All done, then?” Tom asks as he takes your plate and sets it on top of his on the bedside table. He shifts on the bed until he’s under the covers and then pulls you in close. “Want to watch some Daredevil? I still need to catch up.”

He plays the show and you snuggle even closer to him.

“Do you feel better, darling?” His hand rubs your shoulder back and forth.

You nod, “Thank you for everything, Tom. You’re seriously the best. I’m so happy you’re finally back home.”

“Me too,” he whispers, “Now rest. I want you to wake up brand new for what I have planned for us tomorrow.” He kisses the top of your head and holds you tightly against him. Tessa crawls to lay by your feet and you slowly relax into him. He made getting sick one of the best nights of your life.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘Spellbound’ Chapter 2: Broken Chains

A pounding knock on the door alerted the resident within the townhouse in Belgravia. Long, blood red nails clicked against the doorknob as it twisted. Upon opening the door, she noticed Sherlock Holmes on her stoop.

“Darling, how nice of you to drop by,” Irene grinned, revealing her sharp fangs. “Full moon already?”

“Yes and I am not your darling,” he growled, letting himself through the threshold.

“Now, now, don’t take the fun out of me having to chain you up in my dungeon,” she smirked. “Though, I can’t stay long. I need to feed tonight.” She lead him down to the secret floor of the townhouse that was located belowground.

“Just remember not to drain them completely,” Sherlock told her. “I had to cover up your mess last time.”

“I promise I won’t; drink then compel them to forget…easy,” Irene replied.

Once he was safely chained up, she blew him a kiss and left for her late night snack session. Vampires and werewolves never got along, but Sherlock and Irene tolerated each other. They had had a one-time fling a couple of years ago but Sherlock refused to continue it.

The full moon had reached its peak and Sherlock felt the familiar change go through his body. He wasn’t so sure the shackles would hold this time, and as they creaked with his changing form, worries filled his mind. What would happen if he hurt somebody or if he was spotted in the streets of London? Werewolves of London, he thought with amusement. The shackles broke as he became full wolf and he found his way through the house running off into the night.

Molly was leaving the hospital when she noticed the large onyx wolf in front of her. She showed no fear though. There was only one person who had those beautiful cerulean eyes. He was showing his teeth at her as he snarled. Molly cast a glamour so nobody would see them.

“Sherlock,” she whispered, stepping closer hesitantly with her arm outstretched. “Hey, it’s alright.” He had growled at her to get her to run, until he realized she was not as normal as she had seemed. Eventually, he lowered his head so she could pet him. Her small hand made contact with his thick, soft fur and he nuzzled his head against her palm. “Come with me, you’ll be safe, I promise.”

She led him through the backways of the city to her flat and allowed him inside. Once the door was locked behind her, she lifted the invisible veil that hid him from the others. Sherlock’s mind was reeling. It’s not that he didn’t still think like his human self, but when hunger took over, he tended to lose control. So, naturally, he was curious as to how Molly was able to tame him.

He watched as she prepared something in the kitchen. From the faint chanting he heard, he knew immediately she was a witch. Molly set the bowl on the floor in front of him.

“Well? Eat up,” she told him. “Believe me, you’re not going to fit on my sofa in wolf form.” He gave her a questioning look—or as close to it as he could. “Oh! You need clothes! Give me a moment.” Molly disappeared into her bedroom and tossed a large t-shirt and a pair of stretchy grey sweatpants on the sofa. “I won’t look, I promise.”

With her back turned, Sherlock began to lap up the soup, and soon enough, he was a man again; a very naked man at the moment. He quickly slipped on the clothes she had brought him.

“That was different,” he commented. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes,” she replied. “They’re unique.”

“And you’re a…witch?” he asked.

“Yes, I am. I’m far from the green skinned type, aren’t I?” she laughed. The mellifluous sound of it gave him goosebumps.

“Yes, well, I must be going now,” he said curtly.

“Aren’t you even going to thank me?” Molly asked.

“Thank…you?” he made a face at the words that left his lips, for he never showed common courtesy of his own free will. “Just—look, if anyone asks, I was in a drug den.”

“What!?” she exclaimed. “That’s your cover story?”

“It’s the only one people believe when I suddenly pop off to nowhere,” he explained.

“Right then,” she remarked. “Just one last thing?”

“Yes?”

“Are you related to a William Holmes?” she questioned.

“That’s my father’s name, but it is also my true first name. William Sherlock Scott Holmes is the whole of it,” he answered. “Why?”

“I was just wondering,” Molly told him. Of course she wasn’t telling him that she had a recurring dream since she was thirteen and first gained her abilities. Within this dream, it was just her writing the name William Holmes in an old leather journal. She never knew what it meant but now she had a chance to find out.      

fanfiction.net | ao3

[kittenwritesstuff]

Fix the broken

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x (Auror)reader Genres: angst, platonic fluff Words: 1.971 Summary: Reader shows up at Malfoys’ mansion after not having heard from Lucius for a while. She’s there just in time to prevent him from harming himself and stays to take care of him during his mourning - requested by @directorpercivalgraves 

You hear a quiet scratching on the window; you turn your head from a soup you are stirring and see your owl. With an envelope you gave her still in her beak.

Frowning, with confusion and concern running through your body, you open the window and let your owl in, taking the letter from her. Your pet leans into your hand and so you stroke her head, smiling.

“No one let you in, darling?” you coo and your owl screeches, expressing her complaint. You scratch her a little and she squeals, making you let out a small laugh.

“I’ll go there. I’m worried, you see. I don’t think they left England. He would’ve told me, I suppose.”

You fall silent after that, focusing on your meal. Your owl warbles and then flies away to her favorite spot, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Lucius was surely in the Manor. You would’ve known if they left the country or moved to a different place. You work in the Ministry, nothing happens without It knowing, even despite the hard times you are in.

Actually, that was how you met Malfoys. Over ten years ago, the Ministry received an information about numerous magical items that were illegally spread around. The Minister ordered that Aurors would be paired with workers of Department of  Magical Equipment Control and sent in the field to investigate whether said families were in a possession of any kind of unregistered magical items.

You were sent to Malfoys’ Manor to search for them. Lucius was utterly displeased by being suspected of such a thing but Narcissa patiently showed you around the huge house, while little Draco watched you curiously as you waved your wand around for magical objects to show.

You had found nothing illegal and so you thanked for their cooperation. Lucius was still resentful by being visited by a Ministry’s hounds, as he called you, and the next day you saw him in Ministry, waiting for a meeting with the Minister himself.

Few chance meetings later, he invited you for a dinner in their mansion, saying that Narcissa would like to get to know you, curious about your work and you, in overall.

You went there and that was how it started – despite differences in your beliefs and social status, you managed to form a friendship, based on respect and, surprisingly, similar interests with Narcissa.

Your heart almost broke when you found out that Narcissa died in the Battle, believed to be punished for her son’s and husband’s disobedience. You can’t even begin to imagine how hurt Lucius and Draco are. The Malfoys appeared to be cold and emotionless but you saw that there was love between them, even if they weren’t able to express it.

And it seems that Lucius was in a dire need of a friend. You haven’t seen him since the Battle, you haven’t even spotted him or Draco in Hogwarts when you were sent to help with restoring the castle. They must’ve fled during or just after the Battle ended.

You couldn’t bring yourself to visit Lucius, justifying yourself with work and personal stuff, but the truth is, you are scared of what you may find there. You’re afraid that you won’t be able to help him, to comfort him. That you’ll fail as a friend.

On the other hand, however, not offering him your support is failing as well.

With a sigh, you turn the stove off and pour the soup you’ve just finished cooking into an easier to carry pot. You fish out your wand and wave it, apparating in front of the door to the Manor.

You knock loudly, but there’s no sound from the other side. Only silence, heavy and terrifying. After knocking few more times, you decide to let yourself in. You push the door open, sliding in and looking around for any sign of presence.

There’s a dim light coming from the living room – you head there, careful not to drop the pot you’re carrying. You assume there’s not more than two or three candles lit there, hence the almost non-existent light in otherwise shadowy rooms and corridors.

“Lucius?!” you call as you enter the room and you find him nowhere to be seen. He must be somewhere here, why would the candles be lit?

“It’s me, Y/N.” you try again, hoping that when he hears familiar voice he’ll come out from whatever spot he’s occupying right now. Placing the pot on the large wooden table, you mutter a spell and all the light in the room light up, pushing away the darkness from it.

And that’s when you spot him, and it makes your heart sink to your stomach.

Lucius is curled in a far corner of the room, agony written on his face as he presses his wand to his temple. His eyes are squeezed shut, his face paler than usual and only now you notice that he’s been crying.

Jumping into action, you wave your wand, performing an Expelliarmus spell and Lucius’s wand flies into the air and right into your hand.

“Why..?!” he whines miserably, covering his face with trembling hands and you hide both wands into a pocket of your coat before you rush to him. “Why did you stop me? I wanted to do this, I wanted to…”

“Lucius, believe me, you didn’t. This is not a way, can you hear me?” you mutter as you wrap your arms around his shaking form, holding him firmly as he sobs.

“I’m here now, I’ll help you. Forgive me for not coming sooner, but now I’m here for you.”

“You can’t help me… Y/N, it hurts, it hurts so much” he mumbles between the sobs and you almost tear up yourself, but you know you can’t. You need to be strong – Lucius needs it.

“I know and I cannot take away the pain. But it will go away, I promise. Not entirely, but it will hurt less with every passing day.”

“How can you know that?” he asks, lifting his agony-filled eyes at you and you smile sadly.

“I buried both my parents, remember? I know what I’m saying. Now, how about we get you all cleaned up? I’ll draw you a bath, alright?”

Lucius doesn’t say a word, only nods and lets you set him on his feet and lead him to one of guest rooms. You assume he doesn’t want to be in the bedroom he shared with Narcissa.

You motion his to sit on the bed while you start the water and watch it fill the bathtub. You add some bubble bath and once you’re pleased with it, you go back to bedroom to find Lucius sitting just as you left him.

“It’s my fault…” he whispers as you approach him and reach to the front of his black button up. He stares blindly at the wall before him, not really seeing you.

“It is not your fault,” you state softly as you push the shirt from his shoulders, gripping his forearms to pull him to a standing position.

“It is, Y/N. I’ve failed. I’ve failed my wife and now, because of my weakness, she is dead.”

“And you think killing yourself will make it better? Do you think Narcissa would want it? You cannot give up, Lucius, you have a son to take care of,” you say, unbuckling the belt and unzipping his trousers. Lucius stops you before you can take them off and does it himself.

“Draco is angry at me. He blames me for what happened.”

“Did he say such a thing?”

“No,” Lucius replies and you give him a reassuring smile.

“See? Draco needs you, he needs his father. You have somebody to live for, Lucius, you cannot leave him.”

He says nothing when you take him to the bathroom and turn around to give him at least a bit of privacy as he strips himself off the last piece of clothing. You hear the water splash as he slides in so you come to the bathtub and take a sponge, crouching by the tub.

Lucius is silent as you wash him, not even uttering a sound. Any bit of shame is long forgotten, neither of you thinks of it – you are here to support him and Lucius realizes it. He doesn’t complain when you tilt him head back to wash his hair, silently allowing you to take care of him.

And you can only hope that it’ll be enough.

When you’re done, you stand up and offer him a towel, walking out of the bathroom to grant him privacy. You busy yourself with preparing a clean outfit and leave it on the bed, waiting outside the guest room for Lucius.

He exits it few minutes later.

“I brought a soup. Do you want to eat?”

“Yes, please,” he mutters and you take his hand, leading him down the stairs, to the living room. From the kitchen, you bring two bowls and spoons, magically warming up the meal and pouring it to bowls.

Lucius sits still by the table, looking at steaming fluid with indifference.

“I- I can’t-“

“Let me,” you offer and take the spoon, feeding him with the soup. At first, he looks ashamed but as you carry on, he eats with more appetite. You take it as a good sing.

When you’re finished, you clean the dishes and come back to the living room, finding Lucius sitting on a sofa by the cold fireplace. You wave your wand and the logs blaze with fire, illuminating the room with an orange glow.

Carefully, you walk to Lucius and he wipes at his cheeks quickly, lowering his head.

“Lucius,” you start gently, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Allow yourself to grief. There’s nothing to be ashamed about in suffering and mourning. It’s natural and no one will judge you for that.”

“Stay, please,” he asks, his voice broken and pleading and you nod, pulling him into you embrace when he gives in and starts crying. You hold him through it, rubbing his back and stroking your fingers through his long hair, giving as much comfort as you can.

He does not resemble the proud man, with his head high and a grimace of displeasure on his face, when he clings to you as if his life depends on it. He’s no longer a determined wizard, looking down at everybody when he stops sobbing, exhausted and broken.

Surely, no one would recognize the arrogant, haughty Lucius Malfoy in a man that is now grasping on your legs and laying practically at your feet, in a silent beg of you to not leave him. He’s fast asleep now, his deep steady breaths lulling you to sleep as well and so you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest.

_____

Draco tries to not make a sound when he opens the front door and steps into the house. He’s surprised, almost shocked when he hears a crackling of the fire. He left in the early morning, having grown sick of the coldness and silence in the Manor.

He was reluctant at first, when Harry Potter offered his help after Draco’s mother died. Draco didn’t want it. He was sure that he was able to deal with it himself but time showed that he needed someone to see him through it. And with his father shutting himself from outside world, lost in his own grief, Draco eventually reached out to Harry.

He quietly comes closer to the living room and peaks in it. A small smile appears on his face when he sees you. He’s grateful that you’re here and suddenly he’s convinced that things will get better. You’ll help his father, you’ll bring him back to life.

Your presence alone is enough.

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

CHINA DOLL

paRequest: N/A

A/N: Finally, I finished this!  Sorry it took me so long, I had almost no inspiration for this fic, and I wanted it to be of good quality, not quantity.  Hope you enjoy!

Bucky x underweight!reader

Word count: 1638

Summary: Men want curves, and so does (Y/N).  But, what if she doesn’t have any?  Will no one want her?  Bucky disagrees.

Warnings: self-hate, self-depreciation, angst, throwing up.

(GIF not mine)

Double ��D’s, apple bottom jeans, and a thigh gap, that’s what men want.  They want a girl with meat on her bones, someone who doesn’t look like the Grim Reaper wearing his latest victim’s skin, aka, you.  You stared at yourself in the mirror, completely disgusted by yourself. Spindly arms and legs, sharp bones that poked at our tight skin, and the straight lines that framed your body. You looked like a stick figure, boring and flat.  How could anyone love this body?  Especially someone like Bucky…

‘There are millions of people out there who would kill to be as thin as you…’ you thought to yourself, trying to convince your aching brain that you were lucky to look the way you did, 'you’re so ungrateful!  You have no reason to complain!’.  Today of all days, you had to be fighting with your own security, there couldn’t be a worse day for this to happen than today!  You’d rather have started your period.  Why couldn’t this be one of the days where you were flirty and confident? Why wouldn’t this be one of the days where you could strut your stuff better than any Victoria’s Secret Angels could? Why couldn’t this day be the day you were actually happy with your body?

A few gentle rasps at the locked bathroom door shifted your attention to your fiancé who stood outside, “you comin’ (Y/N)?” Bucky chirped.  Welp… might as well get ready for the day.  Grabbing your way-too-big bra, you snapped it on and picked up your padded jeans. Looking into the mirror, you made sure your artificial assets looked somewhat natural and didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.  Except for your fake ass, that, you did want to stick out.  Taking a few wads a tissue paper, you stuffed the hollows of your bra so they looked filled, “this ought to do it…” you whispered to yourself, adjusting your bra underneath your blouse, “I’m coming, Bucky!”.

Exiting the bathroom, you approached Bucky, who stood by the bed, buttoning his collared shirt, “there’s my beautiful (Y/N)!” he smiled, embracing you tightly.  As he pulled away, he grimaced at you, looking down at your body.  But, he quickly shook this expression away and kissed your cheek, “happy anniversary, doll” he whispered.  You smiled in return, trying to brush away your fear.  Why did he make that face at you?  No!  No more negative thoughts!  We’re done!  “Right back at you soldier,” you hummed, pecking his lips and taking one of his hands in yours, “I’m ready to go,”.

 It was a nice Spring afternoon, it was warm and sunny, children were playing in the streets and in the park, people were going out on picnics, feeding the ducks, seeing the exotic animals at the zoo, and other fun, outdoor activities.  Though… you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it.  You were too busy hoping no one noticed your stuffed bra and padded butt. Bucky had your hand lovingly clasped in his as you both sat by the lake in the park.  "Can you believe it's been four years since our first date?" Bucky mused, soaking in the Spring sun, "yeah..." you responded dully. 'Yeah...' you thought, 'it's miraculous you've been willing to stay with me that long...’.  Turning his head to look at you, Bucky noticed your distant and forlorn expression, "are you okay doll?" he asked, rubbing soothing circles into your back.  You tried not to let any bitter tears fall, you didn't want Bucky to worry over you and your stupid insecurities.  Taking a deep breath, you fakely answered him, "yeah, I'm okay, just a uh... just a bit hungry," "oh!" Bucky cheered, standing up from his seat on the metal park bench, "we could go to that little restaurant downtown!".  You remembered that place, it was where you and Bucky shared your first kiss.  "Yeah, that sounds fun," you smiled weakly, maybe the familiar place and happy memories would help you feel better.  

 “There it is!” Bucky announced, pointing at the quaint café at the corner of the street, “the best place to eat in all of Brooklyn!” he sighed dreamily, hopping along happily to the little shop.  You and Bucky very well knew the food was marginally above mediocre, but, with all the nostalgia associated with it, it was far more than just average food.  Sitting you down at a little table by the window, Bucky ran off to order your food. You had him order the junkiest, most fattening food this place had to offer, maybe that would help you bulk up. Of course, you didn't literally tell him to get you fattening food, you told him the actual name of the food; didn't want to raise suspicions.

 Greedily, you scarfed down two sandwiches, there was also a brownie on the counter waiting for you along with a sugary drink. Bucky just stared at you from across the table.  You normally didn’t eat like this.  Normally, you’d eat like an average, non-werewolf person.  You weren’t eating a bunch because you were hungry, you were just hoping that you’d gain a few pounds and fill out your skin a bit more; hopefully, you wouldn’t get sick later.  “Uhm…” Bucky interrupted, still awestruck by your abnormally ravenous appetite, “hungry there, doll?”.  With a weak chuckle, he watched you awkwardly wipe the food off your face with your sleeve; you should probably cool it a bit.  “Oh… sorry… I’m just starving,” you lied, hoping he didn’t question you further. Bucky just nodded and shoved his half-full bowl of soup to the center of the table.  Great.  You scared his appetite away.  Real smooth (Y/N), real smooth.

 The night was cool, the stars were shining brightly, and the comforting chirp of crickets sounded.  The moon was out, big, bright and full.  Bucky loved to sit out on the balcony with you, stare at the sky, and let peace wash over the both of you.  But instead of doing that, he was holding your hair back as you spilled your guts out into the toilet.  You had eaten way too much.  “(Y/N)? Doll?” Bucky called as you relaxed back into his arms, “you okay?”.  You were about to answer, but instead, you leaned back over the toilet bowl and heaved, “evidently not…”.  As your body calmed down, Bucky rubbed your back and petted your hair, “why did you eat so much?  You’re really sick…”.  How could you answer that?

Taking a deep breath, you leaned against Bucky, letting your emotions go.  Little sobs and whimpers escaped your throat as hot tears stung your eyes.  Bucky held you close, clutching you to his chest so hard that you could hear his steady heartbeat, “hey, shh… it’s okay, you’re okay…” “no I’m not!” you cried, hitting Bucky’s chest with your fist.  Your little punch didn’t effect Bucky at all, he just held you closer and kissed the top of your head, “I’m not okay!  I’m scrawny and ugly and- UGH!”.  Bucky was shocked.  You?  Ugly? That was impossible.  To him, you were an angel sent from heaven above.  “I look like a bag of bones!  All the other girls have these gorgeous curves and beautiful bodies, while I got stuck with this monstrosity!” you ranted, squirming in Bucky’s arms, trying to get away, but he wouldn’t let go.  Cupping your face in his large hands, Bucky looked you straight in the eye and said, “(Y/N) listen to me, you’re not ugly!  You’re beautiful!  You’re more than beautiful!  You’re smart and gracious, and kind, and sweet, and patient.  You’re the most wonderful women in the world!”.

Tears threatened to cascade down your aching cheeks, "you're lying..." you hissed, almost heartbroken.  Bucky just looked at you lovingly, hope pooling in the blue of his irises, "you know why I call you 'doll'?" he asked, tucking a lock of stray hair away from your face, "because, to me, you're perfect, just like one,".  He was so kind, but he had to be bluffing.  "Now I don't mean like a Barbie doll, no.  You're not like those dolls with emotionless smiles and plastic bodies.  No, you're like a classic china doll," Bucky continued, sincerity thick in his tone. "You're one of a kind, there is no one else like you and there never will be anyone else like you," "maybe that's a good thing..." you muttered, rolling your eyes to stare at the floor.  Bucky places a soft hand on your jaw and turned you face to look at him, "it is a good thing, not because you're ugly or unwanted, but because I know I have you all to myself.  I have your extreme beauty, I have your remarkable intelligence, your quirky, fun personality, and your kind nature,".  Your brows furrowed in confusion, "then… then why did you wince after hugging me this morning?" you asked, looking like a kicked puppy, "I felt the tissues you had stuffed into your bra..." Bucky admitted, "it made me sad to think my perfect china doll felt that she needed big breasts to look beautiful,".  Your eyes welled up with more tears, though, these were tears of thanks and of joy, not of sorrow, "what did I do to deserve you?" you sobbed, burying your face in his chest.  Bucky held you close, nuzzling into your neck, "the question is, what did I do to deserve such a perfect and wonderful woman such as you?".

TAG LIST:

@paranoid-borderline-insane  @buckyshattergirl  @asgardianmetalarmedtimelord

[maritimemac-blog]

Leopard in tree Samburu morning before we left for Ol Pajeta conservancy

We left Samburu a bit late due to the leopard that was lounging in the tree with his tail dangling down.  The rangers finally made all the vehicles leave so the big cat could have some peace. It was back on the road for our next destination: Ol Pajeta Conservancy, three-and-a-half hours away.

Outside our tents

Sweetwaters resort. our tent

February 23- 24th,2016

The sky is a hazy blue and the grass more like the colour of straw. As far as the eye can see there is a line on the horizon dividing the two, not a hill in the way to spoil the vista. The morning is cool and I am glad I wore an extra layer.  I dared not drink much water or coffee at breakfast because Eric has warned us there are no toilets in the bush and few safe bushes to hide behind. Pee breaks will be at the back bumper (he promises he wouldn’t look).

“Jambo!” We greet all the guides in the parking lot and make our way over to Eric. Jo is joining Monique and me this morning. Her safari partner Pat, has opted to take a cultural excursion into the village. Eric helps us get up into our jeep.   “What do you want to see today ladies?” he says. It is a rhetorical question, but we play along, asking him to bring us to the ostriches and warthogs first and then we’d like to see the leopards and rhinos.

Eric chuckles at our request then says something along the lines of “Right away!” He puts his foot down on the accelerator and the motor revs to life. We drive for a bit following the established trail, until Eric gets that look we are starting to recognize and pulls the vehicle over to the side and pops up over the windshield with his binoculars. He points forward ” White rhino.”  Far off at the tree line is a mommy rhino with her baby.

White rhino and her baby

“We need a bit of education about this white rhino verses black rhino business Eric.  How can we tell them apart?”  I ask. He uses his hands to give details: the white rhinos have wide, strait mouths and their heads are elongated and dished, he says.  Black rhinos have triangular mouths and rounded heads.

I am still not quite understanding what he means, and he says he will find us some to compare.  Trekking around the large conservation, we have long spans where the animals are far off of the trails and/or not visible, so we do some bird-watching instead and get an avian education.  One strange-looking bird we think Eric is calling a curry bastard, which gives us a good laugh. We get several rollers, which are beautiful pastel coloured birds He rattles off names and we try to keep up. We got the guinea hens down pat. Horn-bills and weavers, bee eater. I photograph every one he points at.

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Within the hour we roll up on a group of rhinos. I am snapping photos of the interaction between a couple of white rhinos with a baby when a robust female black rhino joins them.  The two species were cordial, they don’t normally interact. I had an aha moment watching them; they seemed like a group of ladies meeting at a playground, one proudly showing the other her child, the other asking questions about motherhood. I am starting to see the difference in their build. I understand now they are a difference species so inter-breeding them gives a hybrid, which does nothing to improve the number of either species.

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  The radio crackles to life and Eric speaks into the mic in Swahili, then the jeep skids to a stop. He grabs his binoculars and perches above the windshield, squinting and straining to see the land in front of us.  Within moments we are off, shifting gears and racing toward another jeep in the distance. I am standing on the seat watching the scenery fly by, enjoying the breeze.

We pull up behind the other jeep and the engine sputters and falls silent.  We wait.

“What are we looking for, Eric?”

Murmurs from the other vehicles hint there is a lion. I fret, “I don’t see anything.” Another caravan pulls up behind us. Still nothing.  The seasoned photographers are all focused on the same spot so I mimic them. I do not want to miss seeing a lion, not trusting my own eyes after the trouble I had spotting the leopard on the rocks in Samburu.

Without warning a massive male lion slips from the grass and saunters right in front of me. There was no missing him.  I am trembling so bad, I can’t find him in my view finder. I put the camera down and just watch him walk towards us.  I finally steady my hands and get him framed in some shots.

My heart is thumping, I’m sure a heart attack is imminent.  He walks the road for a bit, then as easily as he visited us, he departs to the cover of the bushes.  Still breathing  and ecstatic with joy, Monique, Jo and I land some high-fives  for our first up-close encounter with a male lion. While I was prattling on to the others about how he looked right at me, one of my fellow tour group members was photographing me in full animation.

The lion just appeared, the first one I have ever seen, and he was so close and magnificent.

This was my face after seeing the lion. Me on the left Monique facing away and Jo on right

We are wowed by the lion  but the sun is at its zenith in the sky and the light is bad. Time to head back to the lodge for lunch.

Whatever has been prepared has the aroma of Indian and African seasonings. I ladle some soups into a bowl and search for a roll.  There are lentils, curries, sweet potatoes, salads, fruits, breads and desert. The buffet is a safari itself. ( I’m vegan, I don’t care about the meats and cheeses.) The early afternoon is time to catch up — charging cameras, doing laundry, bits of reading, writing, and napping. It is too cool to go to the pool here.

When 3 PM rolls back around we are ready at the jeep. We travel in wide circle around the water hole and let the animals come to us. Zebras cape buffalo, lots of rhinos. A jackal dashes across the field keeping an eye out for some dinner.

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Eric zooms us about the fields for miles.  We stop at the equator sign for photos and get our first experience of being out of the jeep and walking the land. We have been told, “When you are in the jeep you are a predator to the animals, out of the jeep you are prey.”

Equator

Then off to see a cemetery.  The names of the deceased are not guides, rangers, benefactors or staff that love the reserve. They are dedications to the rhinos that have been poached since 2004, right here where they lived and were protected. Brazen killers pick them off and carve off their horns.  It angered me deeply and it is a graveyard I wish did not exist.

Cemetery of Rhinos pouched on the reserve

We come back to lodge with stories to tell that make for a lively conversation over  dinner.  Many people never see all of the Big Five, and we have been lucky enough to see them two days in a row.

When darkness falls, Ken holds a clinic on night-time photography for those with cameras capable of taking low-light images.  We share wine and watch the animals congregate at the watering hole visible from the our accommodation

Morning February 24th.

There is a side excursion to the Black Rhino sanctuary and the Jane Goodall chimpanzee research center.

A time stamp on my photos say it’s 10:40 AM when we meet Baraka. He is an old gentlemen and we are invited to his pad, where we take turns stroking his horn and feeding him alfalfa. In return he nuzzles our hands with his leathery triangle lips and shows arousal for being petted. We joke with the caretakers that we have teased him — they should bring the fillies over, he is ready to breed.

Baraka was born at Ol Pajeta and became blind in one eye after a fight. He developed a cataracts in his other eye that made it necessary to remove it too. He has his own enclosure and is well cared for. His job as an ambassador is important work and he does it well. Visiting him was the highlight of my day. His presence will never leave my heart.

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After lunch we break away from the other jeeps and set out four-wheeling  on an overgrown path into the bush. The truck gets jammed up on a high stump for a moment but after some rocking back and forth we break free and find another way around. Rounding a tree we come upon a male elephant blocking the path.  I ask Monique to take a photo of me with him in the background. I am smiling for the shot and I see Monique’s expression change and she gasps, then the transmission whines as we reverse hard and I am plastered up against the railing.  I turn to see the elephant hustling towards us, closing the gap quickly. He trumpets his threat then stops his pursuit.  Guess we were in his space.

Our last surprise is just before sunset. Eric drives us to a place called Lake Laikipia,  The sun is starting to set and the baboons are heading up the tree to roost for the night.

  With four down and one to go we need a leopard to complete the Big Five and just as we are on our way home, one is resting in a tree.  He was well-shielded from view and my photos showed nothing but a leg and a tail hidden among the tree but it counted and we make the count for a third day.

Departure to Lake Nakuru.

At breakfast we head the terrible news; a rhino was poached overnight. The “Jambo” greetings are heavy with sadness as the porters load our luggage into the vehicles.

On the drive out we see the carcass of the dead rhino. Lions are gorging themselves on its remains.  A large male and his lady are laying in the grass, bellies extended and well fed.  The only part of this rhino that will go to waste is the horn the bastard took. 

Please join me as we head to Lake Nakuru. Happy travels from Maritime Mac

    What Kenya did to me: Ol Pajeta, Part 3 We left Samburu a bit late due to the leopard that was lounging in the tree with his tail dangling down. 

[nickolisantiago]

Chicken and Dumplings

“Very good, dear” he says, raising another spoonful of chicken broth to his lips. They part ways and allow a thick stream of savory soup to slide in, and open even wider to allow a piece of breading to make its way through to the eagerly awaiting tongue inside. They close rapidly to keep the food concealed like a deep, dark secret. The process is repeated until the porcelain bowl is empty. ​     “It was easy” she says, raising a glass of cold milk to celebrate the occasion. It’s all part of the joke. The chef is supposed to thank the crowd for cooking a wonderful the meal, and the dinner guests are supposed to humbly accept the compliment.     It isn’t snowing here. It isn’t even cold. If anything, winter feels like the summer in Texas. The freezing New Jersey Decembers are a thing of the past, but the warmth of dinner still makes her feel like a Yankee. Grandpa cleans the dishes and the kitchen as usual, while the aroma of the meal still ventures throughout the house like a lost soul, looking for a vacancy sign on any nostrils to call home. It’s a lingering scent, even after dinner. It’s a reminder that she’s home, enjoying an evening with the ones she loves. His whistling fills her ears, making its way from the kitchen into the living room like a feather floating through the wind. ​     ...     “Very good, dear” my older sister says. She’s a 7-year-old with a lot of attitude, but has a braver tongue and palate than my own. I glance at my brother’s chocolate milk in disgust, and move my eyes toward the bowl of soup and dumplings in the bright blue bowl at my left.     “It was easy” I say, but the irony is my plate of chicken nuggets and ketchup. Mom asks me to take a spoonful of her chicken, just to try it. I defy her as usual, making it known that I’m perfectly content with my crispy tenders and strawberry beverage. She’s always trying to make me taste something, and this dish is a specialty; I recognize it as something she only makes a few times out of the year. Yet, I rebel and refuse. My sister finishes her meal, and I sit at the table blowing bubbles through my straw until I’m bored and full of microwaveable meat.   ​     ...     It’s a cold evening here in Manvel, which is unusual in October. The heater is broken again, so I surround myself with a fortress of blankets as I camp out in the living room. I’ve conquered the living room television, playing Xbox until the call of dinner takes me away from the remote. I sit at the table, moving over a pile of papers and unsorted receipts to make way for my meal. Mom hands me a bowl, and asks me to try it. I consider the request, and decide to dive in with my spoon. I’m immediately rewarded for my bravery. The combination of warmth, cooked chicken and fluffy bread makes me feel as if I’m chewing on a pillow. I swallow, and soon discover that I’m going back for seconds.     “Very good dear” she says, taking a seat on the living room couch. There’s not enough room at the table for all of us, but she ensures her children get food and seats first.     “It was easy” I say, but I’m a little too focused on my bowl to notice my dad entering through the backdoor. He’s upset again, and he places his guitar set down on the kitchen floor with a loud sigh. Without saying hello, he grabs a bowl and scoops in some broth. He goes back for three dumplings, placing them like floating buoys on top of an ocean of soup and chicken.  Like a phantom, he seems to float away; as quickly as he’s entered, he leaves the scene to take refuge in his room. My mom gets up to clean as my siblings chew on in an awkward silence. The lingering smell of dinner distracts me from the tension, up until my dad comes out of his room to place his bowl in the sink. He starts to raise his voice at my mom for no reason in particular, and picks up his musical devices like a suitcase and coat. He leaves through the backdoor, slamming it shut as we all look on in an anxious flurry of emotions. My mom just shakes her head, grabs another bowl of dumplings, and begins to package up the leftovers.     ...     It’s been 8 years since grandpa passed, but visiting the cemetery reminds me of the sight of the military woman wearing an indigo suit. A 21-gun salute by several soldiers brings back a memory of a man I barely knew, but one that my mom learned her culinary skills from. I still hear him whistling in the kitchen, and I see his face behind a pair of rectangular glasses. ​     As I look down at the grave site, and my grandma places the flowers down, I’m reminded of how quickly things went wrong. Leg pain, followed by cancer, took away the family’s chef. I’m filled with anger at my father for not attending the funeral; he’s since left my life to pursue a career of music and “worship,” and I only see him on holidays. But his absence is not the one haunting me in this moment.     I ask myself why good men like my grandfather die from cancer, while bullies like my father get to live. We head back to the car and return home, and my mom says she’ll prepare the special meal that brings us all a sense peace. ​     “Very good dear” my mom says, passing us each a bowl of dumplings and broth. I’m barely paying attention and almost spill my drink as my textbook bumps into a cup of sweet tea. I escape my thoughts for a while and allow the taste of chicken to ward off my worries of school and fading memories. My lips part ways, creating a tunnel for the soup and bread to enter. They close again, and I swallow the broth.     “It was easy” I say. The thunder outside is loud enough to shake the windows, and the vibrations cause our cats to jump away from the table in terror.     “Grandpa must be bowling again,” my older sister says. We laugh, and all agree. He’s probably getting strikes and spares with Jesus up there, having the time of his life as the scent of the dumplings rise up towards his place in the heavens.     ... ​     I park my car, and turn off the lights. I’ve had two exams this week and there’s a school event that I’m hosting on Friday that I haven’t even prepared for. I have three meetings to worry about on Monday, but none of that matters right now. It’s a Saturday night, and my sister is back from Austin with her boyfriend. My brother has already pulled in from his late shift at Home Depot. I’m the last one to arrive, but that same powerful aroma hits me as I open the backdoor to the house and make my way past our swarm of pets.     “Very good dear” my mom says, placing a bowl of chicken and dumplings in front of my brother.     “It was easy” he replies. I lock the door and take my seat at the kitchen table, and the whistling of my sister’s significant other from the living room fills my ears. Grandpa will never be gone. Like the scent of the dumplings, he lingers here, giving us warmth and comfort when we need it most.

This recipe was originally cooked by my grandpa and grandma. My mother has made her own modifications to the recipe. It continues to be a meal that she makes on special occasions, typically when we are not feeling well or when it is cold outside.

Ingredients (1 big pot, feeds 4 people) -Pack of 4-6 chicken thighs -Chicken bouillon -Salt and pepper -Garlic -Italian seasoning -Bisquick baking mix 

Recipe 1. Fill large pot with 6 cups water 2. Add 6 teaspoons of chicken bouillon 3. Rinse chicken thighs and season with salt, pepper, garlic and Italian seasoning 4. Add chicken thighs to pot of water 5. Boil for 1 hour 6. Remove chicken to platter, allow to cool 7. Remove skin from chicken; shred chicken 8. Place shredded chicken into pot 9. Bring to boil 10. Mix 2 cups of Bisquick with 2/3 cup milk until dough forms 11. Drop dough by spoonful onto boiling broth, reduce heat (simmer) and cook for 10 minutes without lid 12. Place lid on pot, cook additional 10 minutes 13. Turn off heat, prep bowls and serve