#so I should probably add more soon before I have too many reblogs to easily go through them

[keenmarvellover]

POSTS FOR YOU - 1

Some links to posts with valuable content you want in one place.(BASICALLY EVERYTHING IS THERE)

Suggestions and Recommendations are appreciated and accepted.

Last Updated : 16/10/2020

NOTE: Some of these post are written in a crude and unruly fashion. But they contain valuable tips, guidance and information. If you can't/don't want to read such posts, then don't read.

Mental Health

Do you need a Hug?

Maybe you’re having a stressful day. Maybe you just need a deep breath. Maybe you just didn’t realize how stressed you are. You can get your comfort here.

Some stuff to help you sleep

This is definitely not a google drive full of the sleep stuff from the Headspace app, including sleepcasts, music, and wind down meditation, that normally costs 17.99 a month, no siree and you definitely shouldnt share this with people

Anti-Anxiety Tools

Some tools to help you before, during or after an anxiety attack

100 Reasons NOT To Kill Yourself

READ IT. SHARE IT. REBLOG IT. Save a Life.

HOBBIES MASTERPOST!!!!!!!!

A really excellent way to reduce anxiety is to pick up a new hobby. Find something you’re interested in, learn it, then use it as a healthy and productive way to cope.

Health

Some very Important Lists for Rating PAIN, FATIQUE AND MENTAL HEALTH

It is MUST share

PSA Rregarding Hospital bills

Also how to pay hospital bills when you are broke.

How to differentiate between COVID-19, FLU AND COMMON COLD

Anyway, as we enter cold & flu season in the YEAR of corona, this will come in very handy.

Treatment for HIV

VERY IMPORTANT. Please Read and Share.

What does the Color of your Period mean?

A must read for individuals who get periods.

How to differentiate between Period Cramps and Appendicitis

A MUST READ

From a Person who is Hard of Hearing

Types and levels of deafness

General Tips for Vagina Health

Some stuff they don't teach in sex-ed.

Undo the damage of Sitting

Are you always sitting down? Then these are some exercise you should probably try out for better health.

Guide to Proper Bra Fitting

Guide to Proper Bra Fit and Measuring. Please Read and Share.

Washable, Reusable Menstrual Pads

(Part II)

Reusable menstrual hygiene product, and are an alternative to disposable sanitary napkins or to menstrual cups.

Artists

Art Masterpost

How to draw *insert whatever you want, its there in the list*?

Book Binding

Some video links to different types of DIY Bookbinding

For Artists who Need Photoshop

If youre an artist who cant afford photoshop, definitely DO NOT go to this google drive to pirate the program, that would be so bad!!!

Do’s and Don'ts of Designing for Accessibility

Please consider this when designing for ANYTHING. For BUSINESSES and ARTISTS.

Writers

Color Synonyms

For both ARTISTS and WRITERS

How to make a Masterlist

Simple but efficient instructions to make a masterlist

ULTIMATE NOVEL WRITING RESOURCE MASTERLIST

This is an ultimate masterlist of many resources that could be helpful for writers.

List of AUs and Ship Tropes

For when you run out of ideas.

AUs

Ship Tropes

Legal sites to get some much needed Info

If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…

Resources for Describing Characters

For writing about physical appearances, character traits, talents,and skills and other related stuff of your characters, here is a comprehensive list.

Resources for Describing Emotions

Having trouble writing jealousy, happiness, motivation. Here you go!!

Some Resources for your Writing

Body Language

Reverse Dictionary

Character Traits

Things to Keep in mind when naming Characters

Valuable advice. Trust me

Words to Use when Writing Smut/Romance

This is for smut/romance writers. Kinda like a thesaurus.

Tips to write Pain

How are you supposed to write about pain you’ve never experienced before?

References for Greek Mythology Characters

Link to an extensive site every single detail of Greek Mythology from Gods to Family Trees.

Tips to write Blind Characters

Some tips that might be invaluable when writing character that are near-blind or blind

Things to Remember when writing a Highly Emotional Scene

Just small things that could make a great difference

How to write with Multiple POVs

Tips on how to write multiple POVs with diverse characters

Synonyms and Antonyms

The person who made this list is a blessing to writers. Just saying.

Good Qualities for Female Characters

Females don't always need to be protected and be weak. Make them more realistic.

Words to Use instead of ‘Said’

Every single situation is listed. Check it out.

Limits of the Human Body

All extremities listed

Readers

Legal Sites to Download Literature

From children’s books to rare books, from philosophy and religion to nonfiction. I guess you can find anything here.

The Rights of the Reader

And some (lots of) bashing of Helicopter Parents.(You want to read only the rights. Here it is)

Wet Book Rescue : Steps to save a Wet Book

Valuable information if some of your prized books were affected by recent flooding. The video even shows you what to do if you can’t dry the book out right away.

Cheatsheet to Navigate AO3

Makes your time on AO3 a little more easier and interesting

How to trick Writers into giving you More Fanfic to read

Works for Comics and Art as well.

Get a Book Suggestion

This book website gives you the first page of a random book without the title or author so that you can read it with no preconceptions

Books written by POC Writers

Only POC authors included in the list.

Students

Basic ASL (American Sign Language) Movements

ASL Hand Movements for beginners.

Tips for studying with ADHD/a>

Made by a person with ADHD themself.

Resources to Learn New Languages

Ten fairly useful general language resources

How to properly take notes

It helps. It really helps.

FREE ONLINE LANGUAGE COURSES

Here is a masterpost of MOOCs (massive open online courses) that are available, archived, or starting soon. I think they will help those that like to learn with a teacher or with videos.

A Thread of Tips

A thread of tips to help High School and College students academically

LEARN THINGS FOR FREE

FREE ONLINE COURSES (here are listed websites that provide huge variety of courses)

Google like a BOSS

Some life hacks which make student's lives easier.

625 words to know in your Target Language

If your learning a new language, these words will help you build a strong foundation.(Some tips and sites are include too)

Miscellaneous/Life Hacks

How to add music to your Blog

How to add your very own, custom homemade playlist to your blog?

How to Walk with Purpose?

Some tips on how to hold yourself in public and why.

Cheatsheet for Laundry Rooms

Saves a lot of money in the Laundry Room

How to Gird up your Loins?

A lesson in how to gird your loins.

How to Disappear Online

Please read and spread for the sake of abuse victims or stalker victims.

What to do during a Nuclear Attack

I hope you never have to use it but here are some guidelines to follow in the event of a nuclear attack

How to pull an All-Nighter.

A to-do list

Write a Thank You letter after your Interview

It leaves a good impression on your interviewer and increase your chances of passing the interview.

Laundry Tags: Meanings

A life hack that you’ll definitely need at some point.

Where to find free Movies and Series Online

Lots of sites. Lots and Lots of sites. I am not Kidding. Now go and chill without netflix. (Part II)

How to get a Refund?

Get your stuff or a refund.

HOW TO DO EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH

This starts at the most absolute basics of gardening and planting, provides definitions, and hopefully is easily understandable. This is a MUST-READ. (Farming)

Discuss your wages

It’s your right to share your salary, not doing so could be holding you back.

Youtube Tutorials for Basically EVERYTHING

This is a big, giant list of Youtube tutorials that will teach you all the basic life skills you need to know in order to be a functional adult.

Safety

Emergency Evacuation - Items to Gather

A text list of suggested items to acquire in the event of an emergency.

If someone you know is in an abusive relationship

AN ABBREVIATED GUIDE TO ‘Holy shit!!! My friend is in an abusive relationship what do I do’ and what not to do.

Defense Tips for Women

Defense and Safety tips a woman MUST know. (Part II)

An app that informs your Emergency contacts if you are inactive in a set period of time.(Could prevent rape attempts if used correctly)

If a Man gets Physical

How to check if a mirror is one way or two-way

If you are trapped in a smoke-filled apartment: What to Do

How to get out of Hand-binds

How to get out of the bunker of a Car

How to track Anonymous asks.

How to pick a Lock

Traits and Warning signs of an Abuser

What to do if a bigot pulls your Hijab (from behind)

What to do if someone pulls of a Muslim Woman's Hijab? (To do List for both Men and Women)

[tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar]

Pass the Time

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader.

Summary: You feel like you spend more time outside of you dorm and so does your neighbor. Why? Both of your roommates are hooking up.

Word Count: 1,548.

Note: It took me longer than it should've to write this since Tumblr was keep messing up so please don't let this flop ( I reached my breaking point with trying but I still like it) and tell me what you think :) I hope you love it! Thank you @snkkat for posting the photo and inspiring me to write this!

Hey," your roommate, Jazmyn, speaks softly from her side of the dorm to see if you are still awake or not. You hum in response, not looking away from the episode of your newest favorite Netflix original TV show- the reason why you are not studying right now- Outer Banks. Jazmyn moves to sit upright on her bunk bed and swings her feet back and forth and gives you puppy eyes, "Can I ask for a favor?"

Knowing what she will ask, for not the first nor late time, you say, "I'm not moving, Jaz."

She jumps off and walks over to you and must go on her tippy toes to learn against your mattress. It is a fail on her part when she tries to grab your throw blanket off of you since you're wrapped in it.

You sing, "told y'all" in a teasing tone and Jaz response is a weak, "shut up."

"Why can't you just go over? I'm comfortable right here in my dorm."

Ignoring your point of view, she easily lies as she says, "I swear it won't be long."

"Really? Two nights ago, Andrew said the same thing to Drew before you went over there for three fucking hours!" Before she can try to deny it, you hold up your hand to add, "I actually mean fucking for three hours."

You roll your eyes as she blushes and gets lost in dream land that is made of all the sex, she and your next-door dorm neighbor, Andrew, have.

Which is a lot.

You knew that going to a University there would be a huge chance to live crazy college stories that one day will blow your kids' minds whenever they accidentally find one out. Getting locked out of your dorm on a weekly basis so your roommate can hookup? That is not one of them, it is annoying as hell.

The first time you got locked out was just last month, three months in your freshman year. After taking two tests in one day, you just wanted to go in a nap coma for the rest of the year. Since the elevator in your building did not get fixed yet, you had to drag yourself up to the firth floor. You could not help to wish the sock on your dorm knob was just a part of your imagination. But it was not. From the noises you could hear from the other side of the locked door, Jazmyn had someone over. You jumped and cursed when the door next to you opened and an extremely attractive and tired boy smiled at you as he tried to fix his bed hair. He noticed the sock and grabbed it to throw it over his shoulder, inside of his dorm. "I was wondering where Andrew went." He holds out his hand and as you shake hands, he told you his name and you told him yours. You agreed that you did need coffee, so you two left the hallway to grab some.

“You know, it’s weird that we are finally meeting.”

You looked over your shoulder and silently wished Jazmyn would open the door so could lay down, “We’ll probably see each other more in the hallway if they keep this up.”

A week after you talked with Drew over two refills of coffee for who knows how many hours, he saw you walking up the stairs after your last class of the day. He kicked himself off the floor to learn against your door.

"Are they...?"

He nodded in response and told you that he does not know how long, or how much longer. He followed you into your dorm after you slightly pushed him away to unlock it.

"I was planning on doing something with Jaz tonight but since you're here instead... have you ever done a face mask?"

He wiggled his eyebrows and used a husky manly tone to ask, “Sexually?"

His laugh echoed after you throw one of your pillows at him.

The third time was a couple of hours later and Drew agreed to go as far away as possible. You two went through a drive through before going to a park to eat in comfortable silence until he tried to be sneaky to grab some of your food. A small food happened before you two acted like big children on the swings, trying to see who could go up the highest. Since he is so tall, it was easy for him to do the monkey bars.

Now what was supposed to be a relaxing and do-nothing day, you let out a fake cough. “You can’t let Andrew come in here, I’m sick.”

“I’m sure Drew would be willing to take care of you.”

“I hate you.” You mutter as you get up to put your shoes on. You try not to think about how he told you he wants to make you his famous homemade chicken casserole soon since you’re been stressed with all of your school work, working part time and being home sick.

“You love me! Have fun whenever you guys do this time to pass the time.” She winks at you as you slam the door closed behind you. You stop knocking on Drew’s door with your blanket still wrapped around you and carrying your laptop when his voice comes the end of the hall, “fancy seeing you here.”

He knows your smile is half fake so he nervously asks, "You can come over if you want? I can let you in before heading to the showers."

 Andrew comes from the end of the hall, looking like he ran up the stairs while holding a plastic bag from the nearest gas station. You can see Jazmyn’s favorite candy and a box of condoms. Classy. You do not think twice before reaching into Drews maroon gym shorts to grab his keys while they have silent conversation. You miss how much his eyes widen for leaving them both in the hallway.

“I swear to God I’ll give up on being your wingman and move out if you do not make your move.”

Drew pushes Andrew out of the doorway and glances over at you to make sure you are not listening. “You are not my wingman!”

“Yes, I am! I am giving you two alone time as I have sex! It’s a win-win for everyone!” Andrew pushes him inside, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

From his bed, Drew hears the confusing in your voice when you say, “it’s only one am?”

“I stopped listening to what he says a long time ago.” Drew states as he can hear Andrew’s and his own voice in head saying, “she’s on your bed” repeating.

You mutter, “same” for trying to do the same thing with Jazmyn.

Over the trim of your laptop, you watch Drew stand in front of you and starts taking off his gray and black long sleeve hoodie in slow motion.

"Oh my god."

"What?" He asks, amused.

"What?" You ask, embarrassed.

“Take a picture, it would last longer.” He teases, sitting next to you. You shove your elbow in his ribcage, “Shut up!”

You should not be surprised when he teases, “make me.” But your skin gets covered with goosebumps.

“Okay, last time we hangout it was two, three nights ago?” You try to change the topic, “I just remember that I beat your ass at Family Feud. Wanna play that again?"

Drew lets out a breathless, “no” as he puts both of his arms around you, his hands resting against the wall. “Let’s play a new game.”

He grins ear to ear when he feels you take a big breath in, the air faming the side of his face. “Let’s see who can the be the loudest, them or us.”

You look at him like he grew a second head when he starts hitting the wall and making grunt noises.

“You want to make it seem like we are having fake sex?”

He laughs, mostly to himself, “It’s not like you are taking me out of my misery and-“

You cut him off by pulling his hands off the wall to put them on both sides of your waist as you to help you saddle his lap. As you trace the outline of his abs, you cannot help to lick the rest the way up until he puts one of his hands under your chin to pull your face upwards to his. Both of you do not know who kisses who first.

When you need to catch a breath, you mutter, “what?” since his smile makes you smile too. “I want to take you on a date and stop using our roommate sex lives as an excuse to hangout.”

“Okay.” You feel like you are on cloud nine when his smile becomes even bigger. “When?”

“We got time to figure that out. For now…” He gives you a quick kiss before setting you to lay on the bed so he can get up.

You watch him grab a sock before opening the door wide enough to put it on the doorknob. “I want to keep on doing what you started.”

He runs his way back to his bed to tackle you while you have your arms wide open.

─────

Tagging the people who reblogged or comment on the post about which college AU to write first:

@ilovejjmaybank @softstarkey @pixelated-pogues @everydayimfangirling @maaybanks @scandalousfemale @thelocalpogue @sunnypogue @sortagaysortahigh @tembo-ndoto @arthiriticcricket @jjsbxtch @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @rudysrings @ptersparkers @obx-saltlife @ssjiara @drewsephsmiles @obbx-tings @jjmaybanksbaby @jjaybank @mahleeyuh @jjcultmain @tcmhollnd @teamnick 

The college AU for Rudy will hopefully be posted tomorrow!

[inscribeddiatribes]

Only If For A Night

—

Summary: Steve’s decision to go back to the past has unintended consequences.

—

A/N: I decided to participate in the lucid dreams challenge by one of my favorite writers, @golden-ariess. This fic has literally taken me forever to write, but it’s finally finished!

Prompt: “Then tell me how I’m supposed to be.” I was also inspired by the lyrics from Only If for a Night by Florence + the Machine.

Time travel logistics and some endgame scenes have been changed.

Warnings: Contains Angst, Endgame spoilers, Steve Rogers centric, Slightly Yandere/Obsessive, Death.

—

It was supposed to be a simple mission. A final task to put an end to the chaos that Thanos had singlehandedly caused.

As Steve prepared to say his goodbyes, he mused on his current life. He had friends, a support system, and shockingly, he had Bucky back. Losing Bucky had affected him more than he’d care to admit. The loss of Bucky had left him reeling. It seemed like he was destined to feel miserable and all alone.

However, in the five years that he had spent without Bucky, he had found you. You muddled through life the same way he did, but you continued to live your life to the best of your ability by taking the time to find and improve yourself. In many ways he envied you, but you had been utterly alone for years before The Snap, which was a reality he didn’t have to face. He had lost Bucky, and while he may have felt alone, he never truly was.

You were unique, he fondly thought. There were probably a million words that he could use to describe you, but unique was the one that fit best.

Bucky and Sam would understand his decision, but you would be a different story.

—

After leaving Sam, Steve slowly made his way over to you. You looked at him as he came to a stop next to you.

You coolly stated, “I heard they figured out how to fix everything. I’m guessing that’s not what you’re here for though.”

His blood ran cold at the thought that you already knew what he was going to do. He opened his mouth to fumble out an explanation, but you interjected, “If you want to go… then go. I won’t stop you.”

You looked away from him and stared straight ahead. Steve could tell that you were beginning to shut him out. This wasn’t how he expected this to go. How could you shut down at a time like this? He finally had a chance to live a normal life, yet you weren’t happy for him. The words flew out before he could stop himself, “This isn’t how you’re supposed to be.”

You turned towards him and fixed him with a piercing glare, “Then tell me how I’m supposed to be.”

A wave of silence passed over you two. Steve heard you sigh. He desperately wished he knew what to say to fix this, but he was left speechless for once in his life. Steve muttered an apology and made his way back to his teammates.

—

Mission. Home. Idle Chatting. Repeat.

Steve could recite his routine like clockwork. His enjoyment of being with Peggy hadn’t been preserved over the years. His weariness of life frequently clashed with Peggy’s personality. Steve had quickly realized that her zeal and unwavering optimism exhausted him. Peggy understood war better than an average Joe, but she didn’t understand what horrors the future held. By extension, she didn’t understand him either — not anymore. It was inevitable that they wouldn’t last together.

A year. A year is how long it took for Steve to realize that he didn’t belong with Peggy. She was determined, smart, and ambitious. All traits that would please most people. However, she just wasn’t right. She just wasn’t… you. The decision to end things came easy to both of them. Peggy sent him on his way with a tight lipped smiled and a knowing glance.

—

He was back. For the first time in months, he was finally excited.

Steve quickly realized that he had no idea where everyone was. He followed the path closest to him to a road and hoped that a driver would be crazy enough to give him a ride to the Avengers building. He somehow managed to cause a traffic jam as people clambered out of their cars to stare at him in disbelief. It’d definitely be a long ride.

—

Fury sharply stared at Steve, “You’ve managed to make quite the commotion with that little stunt you pulled earlier, Rogers. You disappeared for four years, how could you expect anything less? You’re lucky that we have all the witnesses under control until we can release a new statement.”

Four years? How was that even possible? He had just been gone one year.

Bucky walked through the doorway and approached Fury. Bucky directed his eyes toward a plaque on the wall. It was… your plaque? It was enough to make Fury pause. Fury took a quick glance at Steve and proceeded to leave the room with a grimace. He immediately became suspicious. Fury would never give up an opportunity to yell at someone. Where were you?

Bucky softly sighed, “Pal, I know it’s a lot to take in. A lot of things have changed since you’ve been gone. Y/N isn’t here anymore. There was an attack and we couldn’t get to them in time, I’m so sorry. I have to join Sam on his mission soon, but SHIELD gave me an apartment I never stay at. You can stay there for as long as you want. A company car can take you there.”

Steve felt himself still. You were… dead? You didn’t deserve that. You should be here with him… no, he should have never left in the first place. You were gone. Why you? Why him? This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. He feels his chest tightening and morbidly hopes that he’ll be the next to go.

He couldn’t bear to look at the sympathetic look on Bucky’s face. Steve takes the key from Bucky’s outstretched hand. Bucky pats him on the shoulder and Steve manages to drag himself to the car awaiting him outside.

Steve had ruined his own happiness. The thought that he had messed things up this badly was enough to want to make him start sobbing. He briefly wonders if you had been in this much pain when he left.

—

He spent his nights spent holed up in Bucky’s apartment desperate for any form of interaction. He spent his days at parks during the day in hopes that some eager fan would spot him and bombard him with even something as simple as an awkward, sweaty handshake. Yet no one ever paid him any attention after his initial reappearance. His absence in The Avengers was quite apparent. Thousands of articles about his sudden departure and Sam’s new identity had easily convinced the world that he was a sham.

Even Bucky was slowly starting to give up on him. He never explicitly said that, but his lack of calls and abundance of mission said enough. He was alone.

He wanted to see you again. You were — and still are — his only escape from his loneliness and misery. He thought about you on that consequential day when he had decided to leave. The sunshine baring down on the both of you contrasted the mood of the whole affair. He wished he would have stopped to consider how you truly felt about him leaving. How your coldness towards him was only a coping method. He wished he could go back and scream at himself to stay.

Closing his eyes again, he cleared those thoughts away and willed himself to fall asleep. Dreams were his refuge. He was able to create happy memories of you that he never got to experience with you in real life. Vacations, garden tours, café dates. He did anything and everything with you. You and the whole world were at his fingertips in his dreams. You were his, only if for a night.

—

Bathroom. Eat. Dream. Repeat. Another routine that he could recite like clockwork, only he couldn’t leave this time.

Days passed by. Then weeks. Then months. Everything started blurring together. There was no point in trying to remember them. No one had any need for him anymore. He was no longer Captain America, that role was taken.

He realized he couldn’t be upset, he was the one that had caused this. It still stung to know that everyone had moved on and most importantly, that you were gone.

There was nothing he could now. It was too late. He had lost Peggy. He had lost his friends. Now, he had lost you too. No amount of dreaming would bring you back. He was alone again. He would always be alone — a man out of time.

—

Lyrics:

“And I heard your voice as clear as day. And you told me I should concentrate. It was all so strange and so surreal. That a ghost should be so practical. Only if for a night.”

I don’t own these characters, songs, or lyrics, nor did I create any of them. This work is strictly for fair use/ entertainment purposes. No money has been received from this work.

Check out my masterlist, you might find something you like! Reblogs are welcome! Follow for more :)

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Want to be added to my taglist? Send me an ask, or add your username using my form!

Taglist Form

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer Pt. II

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Huge muse for this part was also Resentment by Kesha. After what was considerably one of the worst nights to ever be lived, things just seem to keep getting worse. Or will they?

Word Count: 2634

Warnings: Angst, lots of fucking angst, the reader talking a lot, manipulative speech, very slight age gap, anxiety, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom I know this had been long awaited and I’m so sorry it took so long. I had to rewrite the beginning so many times because the first part just seemed to flow so beautifully and I was having troubles encapsulating the grace. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Golden rays of sunshine creeped over rooftops, illuminating the room as it fought the cold of the night out that had settled in every crevice - a cold that was a constant reminder of the half empty bed. Soft sheets and expensive pillows that we no better than the pictures that were facedown on the dresser. A light snore and ball of exuberant warmth curled at the end of the unnecessary king size bed that somehow managed to ignite joy while drowning the feeling with sorrow. Even in the early morning hours, just minutes after the sun had risen, there was only one thing to be thought about, one person; Ransom. 

An insistent vibrating disturbed what little peace had fallen over the room, uncharacteristically early to the weekly norm. Even after it would stop, moments later it would begin again and it seemed that it wasn't going to go away anytime soon. A crack in the foundation, a rumbling earthquake that rocked the stability and what had started becoming a little better everyday was ready to crumble and fall. 

Paying attention to details should be a strong suit for someone who had two books published and one in the works - it was a talent that was nearly mastered by this point. But, emotionally drained and foggy brained from the expense that was a Thrombey family dinner, one that would surely be the talk of the family for months, and a restless night filled with discomfort and anxiety left any common sense buried under endless amounts of exhaustion. 

A quick swipe of a thumb, the light press of the cell phone to your ear, and suddenly everything froze. The feeling as if suddenly bathed in freezing water while fiery coals scorched your feet, butterflies lifting your chest higher to cloud nine while a pit opened in your stomach, heart racing with some wild mixture of dread and excitement; "My house at 3. Don't be late, baby girl."

That godforsaken drawl, the smirk that was evident in his voice, the fucking nickname. The line went dead, a heavy silence flooding the room like a tsunami. Thoughts raced in circles, picking apart and trying to guess what he could possibly want. 

Was he going to rub it in your face that he got under your skin? Made your blood boil? Of course he knew how he affected you, he knew you too well, better than anyone would like to admit. An apology? No - that's too far fetched, even after everything Ransom never was the one to apologize, even if he also knew it would be best. Possibly he had gathered the rest of your things, finally ready to rid himself of them. It's not like you took much when he told you to leave, and it was unlikely he would have taken the time himself to go through everything. He probably paid the maid extra to do it overnight so he wouldn't have to.

Either way, after last night, Ransom was the last person you wanted or expected to hear from. The sting of the incident, salt that was rubbed roughly in an aging wound, still fluttered deep in your chest. His words, the family's reaction, the countless notifications still untouched. Nothing anyone could have told you or showed you would have prepared you for what you had felt in that moment. 

Heavy limbs moved numbly but swiftly, mind working like the rusted innards of a clock, slow and almost confused. It didn't make sense as to why he would want to see you, he had done enough damage as is. The confusion quickly boiled over, simmering down to a fluttering anxiety of constant what ifs running their courses through your mind. 

The growing pup stirred at the feel of you moving from the bed, quickly laying his head back down when he saw you trudge into the bathroom. After a much longer than anticipated shower, the feel of the too warm water running down your skin and feeling as though it was washing away every single issue and emotion, a wave a vague normalcy set in. 

For at least a little you could believe this was normal, that it was just like last summer. Get up, get ready for the day, get some work done, then pamper before heading over to see Ransom. Just this time, there was a slightly different agenda. It wouldn't be all heated kisses, starved touches, and craved intimacy, it wouldn't be whispers of sweet nothings and the comfort of a protective embrace - even if every fiber of you craved it like a bad drug, it couldn't happen again, at least not that easily. And who was to say that was even his plan.

Anticipation made the hours go by slower than what was deemed truly plausible, and no matter what the possibilities of what was to come just wouldn't stop taunting every corner of your thoughts. Embarrassingly so you found yourself preparing much earlier than necessary, restyling yourself a handful of times to make sure stunning couldn't even come close to describing how effortlessly perfect you looked. If Ransom wanted to play games, you were determined to have the ball in your field for as long as possible. And to top it off, you made sure that nothing you had on was bought by him. 

But you could only hope that your efforts weren't in vain as you made your way to his house, a place of memories in the middle of pretty much nowhere. An almost 40 minute drive making way for doubts to slowly creep in and settle in the back of your mind. What if he could tell you tried too hard? He could so easily read you, it was as if you were one of your books. Or what if he thought you were trying to impress him? The only time you ever went out of your way to put much effort into your appearance was when you wanted him to really notice you or if he was taking you out. Maybe going in general was a bad idea and this was just some sick joke of his. 

But there was no time to back out as you pulled up in front of the house, his sitting silhouette evident through the glass window. Ransom noticed you immediately, moving to sit whatever was in his hands down and made his way to the door, already standing on the porch before you had even gotten out of your car. 

A slight uneasiness settled between the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised as he watched you, almost expectantly. The look was reminiscent of how your parents would stare you down when you were younger, when you had done something wrong. 

You stood outside your car, staring at him and matching his stance, only adding to the annoyance that was written on his face. "What do you want, Hugh?" The irritation in your voice was evident, and you were more than thankful your words didn't fail you. Stomach twisting in intricate knits, chest fluttering, palms becoming clammy; it was a genuine miracle you hadn't tripped over your words. 

His set jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he registered how you spoke to him, how you addressed him, "Just get in here. We need to talk."

A scoff fell from your lips as you made your way inside, "Always the gentlemen, aren't you," you spat, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite not intending on staying long, you threw your belongings on the island and leaned against the marble countertop, watching him as he stalked towards you, a nearly predatory look in his eyes. "What exactly do we need to talk about? I feel like last night made our positions pretty fucking clear."

He tsked, shaking his head. "You just don't get it, baby girl, dya?" 

Ransom opened his mouth to talk again but you cut him off, agitation finally bubbling over and bordering on rage, "I don't get it?" The words were hissed out and soaked in utter disbelief, "What exactly don't I fucking get, Ransom? The fact that you like to start shit? Or the fact that months after you told me to get the fuck out, you show up to a dinner you don't ever go to to cause a fucking scene, then tell me to meet you at your house the next day? What twisted memory of yours triggered you to suddenly act like you care about me? Why the fuck couldn't you just leave well enough alone?"

The taught muscles of his jaw twitched, intense blues boring into your own gaze. "You're such a spoilt fucking brat," he groaned out. "We had an agreement. No one was supposed to find out, but you had to go and-"

"I had to go and what?" You cut him off once again, only fueling the tension between the two of you and prodding the beast of emotions that was storming inside both of your bellies, "You are the one who opened your mouth, you are the one who fucking started this, all of this. From that night in the fucking bar, to you telling me I was the best thing to ever happen to you, to opening up your mouth last night. You always start it. And you're just pissed I finished it before you could get me to break in front of you."

A lump in your throat was beginning to form, jaw clenching as you swallowed, a feeble attempt to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. The rage was quickly turning into sorrow and hurt, the fire in your chest turning into an ache that couldn't be ignored, "You're just disappointed I waited until I got home, got away from you, to break down. Because you didn't get the satisfaction of seeing the pain you've caused."

There was a sudden twist in the atmosphere, hurricane breaking for a moment of relief before harsh waves continued to crash against the shore, "You act like I wanted to hurt you," his voice was grim, face painting in slight disgust, "Everything was great between us - You are the one who broke the rules. Not me." 

Ransom's head cocked to the side some, gaze moving over your features quickly, examining and calculating, "And even now," a small huff in disbelief as he shook his head, large hand moving to run through his hair which you had just noticed was free of any products. Odd, even for him. "Even now, you still came, you're still here. And I'm still thinking of giving you another chance."

Something buried deep within you snapped, a flood of pain filling every nerve and forcing tears to well in your eyes. "You're giving me another chance?" Any illusion of resolve and strength that had been built up had disappeared as quick as a snap of fingers, uneven breaths doing their best to keep the floodgates closed. "Ransom, you broke my fucking heart," each word filled with more hurt and distrust than the last, each a cut to the man who stood before you, his face softening as he watched you, "You're not the one here who should be giving out second chances, you're the one who should be receiving them."

The realization hit him, a douse of cold water to the face as his mind worked. Silence, albeit slightly uncomfortable, fell between the two of you as the gravity of the last few moments came crashing down. Just as it became too much to handle, lip quivering as the overwhelming urge to cry started becoming harder to fight off, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him. 

Time seemed to slow, a few broken sobs slipping out, body shaking with the force of each one. The natural scent of him filling your senses, no expensive cologne, the feel of the soft sweater an unwanted comfort. Ransom's arms hugged tighter, lips going to your hairline, and staying like that until reality hit you. A weak push, one he could have easily ignored and overpowered, and he stepped away, his features much more readable, looking far more vulnerable. He was much more vulnerable, much more vulnerable than you were ever used to.

Shaky breaths fell from you, trying to clear the fog that was beginning to form over rational thoughts. Wiping your eyes you looked at him, "What exactly is it that you want, Ransom? Why did you really ask me to come over?"

He looked almost taken aback, confused and dazed by the question, but more so by his own train of thought. His mouth opened then closed, repeating the action a few more times before groaning out exasperatedly. "I don't know, for things to go back to how they were?" It sounded far more like a suggestion than an answer. "Come on, (Y/N), we were good together." 

The words came off as if he was trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. You waited, seeing if he would try to convince you, persuade you like he believed he so easily could, how he used to. "I- No," you shook your head, "I can't do that to myself again, I can't let you do that to me again."

"Do what?" He practically snapped, jaw setting as agitation made home in him once again. He didn't expect it to be so damn hard. He no undoubtedly assumed that he'd immediately have you wrapped around his finger like nothing had changed. "Treat you like a fucking princess? Treat you how you deserve to be treated? You and I both know that you're never gonna be able to find someone who can give you what I gave you, nothing that's going to have that same thrill we did."

Shaking your head you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. "See Ransom, you're the one that doesn't get it. I want that more than anything. I want the spontaneous trips and heartfelt gifts. I want the late night conversations and finishing each other's sentences. I would give anything to be on your jet flying to whatever place you're insisting I need to see. I want it all," your voice was practically a whine by the end of it, "But I don't want the sneaking and the hiding. I don't want the separate houses. I don't want lying to everyone."

Running a hand through your hair, you took a shaky breath, trying to calm your nerves. "I need someone who isn't going to just care for me behind a closed door," the calmness of your voice even scared you in the moment, and seeing that Ransom practically froze you could tell he was feeling the same, "I need someone who is going to be there for me how you were, but isn't ashamed of it. That won't get mad when I take cutesy pictures of us on the beach, that won't pretend to hate me in front of their family and friends, that I don't have to pretend is someone else when I'm talking about them. I don't want things to go back to how they were, I want them to be better than they were."

You walked past his nearly frozen stature, heading for the door. "I love you Ransom, and probably always will. But I love myself more than that and I can't let myself be hurt like that again." 

The words echoed off the hallway, ringing in his ears and sitting like a heavy weight on his chest. Your reached for the door, stopping suddenly as his voice reached back out, "Wait - I- fuck," he let out a shaky breath. "Don't leave. Not yet at least. Can we sit and talk over dinner? Please."

Taglist: (Slash through means unable to be tagged)   @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster​ @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers​ @steeeeverogers​ @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @bemysugarbean​ @dreamlesswonder86​ @ambrosixx​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @daazzeey​, @fresa-luna​ @bitchcraftandwitchery​ @thatoneslytherinbeater​ @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs​ @imsonick​ @sambucky8​ @honeybabybubba​

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.19

Queen’s Rights

12/05/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,785

Warnings: language, jealousy, lots of fluff y’all, a smidge of angst

A/N: It took me way too long to write this one up. I knew what I wanted to say but I just kept wanting to go to sleep early. I hope you enjoy it. I’m going to let this one speak for itself. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

There’s a quiet knock on your door.

You groan, protesting against the intrusion while large arms constrict around you.

Flexing your fingers, you feel the soft tuft on Steve’s chest, and slide them through a little more eager to feel the curve of his pecs.

“It’s probably for me.” He whispers against your hair, no drowsiness.

You wonder what time it is but when you take a peek, you see the curtains are still drawn and darkness presses in like a soaked rag, drowning you in what must be early morning.

No sun yet, but soon.

You don’t feel rested. It can’t have been more than three hours since you fell asleep.

Groaning again you cuddle in more deeply to the warmth that envelops you. Part luxurious satin and silk sheets, part Steve’s protective cage. At some point in the night you’d drifted into his arms and you’re honestly not that upset about it. It’s warm here.

He tightens his arms, huffing a small tired laugh as he nuzzles against your hair.

“My sweet flower…” He whispers, so low you don’t know if you really heard it or if you’re dreaming again.

Your bliss is broken by a second set of hesitant knocks.

“Your Majesties,” The voice is unwelcome.

So much so, you react on instinct.

“What the fuck?!” You sit up, jerking out of Steve’s arms easily, your voice lethal but quiet.

Etiquette be damned.

All sleep is wiped from your body as you stare, dumbfounded, by the audacity of the woman on the other side of your door.

Beside you, you can feel Steve sit up, his hand finds the spot between your shoulders, and he slides it down and back up to rub you and offer you a bit of reassurance you guess.

“Sharon, now is not a good time.” He says, no drowsiness in his voice now, only stern disapproval.

He brings his hand all the way up to caress the back of your head, watching you fume because it’s all you can do. Stare daggers at the door.

You feel two of his fingers take hold of your chin and he turns you to look him in the eyes.

He leans in, kisses the tip of your nose. There’s a look of starvation in his eyes, like finally quenching a hunger left unsated.

“Why is she here?” You demand.

Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

He reaches up with the pad of his thumb and slowly slides it along your bottom lip.

He licks his own.

You see it coming and you half want to pull away from pure rage, but the half that’s winning out is the one that needs the reassurances his gentle stroking had offered.

The way his brow curves down, fixating on your face and unable to hear the voice that’s still calling out from the other side of your door.

“Your Majesties, I’m sorry to bother you so early.” Sharon continues, and on some level of thought you realize she sounds remorseful.

Steve moves his thumb from your lip, placing his hand along the side of your face as he leans in towards you.

“I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important.”

Steve lips flutter. There’s a moment when you realize he spoke. Then his words reach your ears.

“My sweet…” He coos at you, your heart flutters.

“Your Majesties?” Peter’s voice pipes in, uncertain and clearly regretful.

He, more than most, knows how much this time with Steve matters.

Peter wouldn’t bother you unless it was important.

A warning sounds in your head but Steve’s breath heats up your lips and your eyes shut by themselves.

You’re merely a puppet to your body’s most desired whims.

“Your Majes-" You begin but he silences you quickly, luscious lips gliding along your own, melding against yours as he cements every promise, every hope and dream he’s declared tonight.

His arms are around you once more, pulling you tight against his chest crushing your hands between your bodies as your fingers greedily skate across his skin.

The mattress presses into your back. Heat settles between your legs and you feel Steve’s searing fingers trail up along your thigh, pushing your nightdress up as he goes.

His tongue slips past your lips and you whimper into his mouth as he tastes you.

“Your Majesty, I really didn’t want to say this here but I feel I must inform you that there’s been another attack. Just like those four years ago.” Sharon’s voice offers, confident that this will get her what she wants.

Steve pulls back, an audible smack as he stares down at your lust glazed expression.

“It looks like them.” Peter adds, and this finally gets Steve to turn towards the door, frowning.

He stares at it for a few seconds, then looks down at you. Your bosom rising and falling, tantalizing nerves filling your stomach with flutters, your heart suddenly drops as you see the regret fill his face.

You lick your lips, run your hands through his soft blonde locks again, and know that you must speak the one word that will take him from you.

“Hydra…” You whisper.

“Nothing else could take me from you.” He proclaims and you’re suddenly weighted with a terrifying dread.

Could you guilt him into staying with you? Here in your arms where you know he’s safe?

The day had begun so pleasantly and then fallen into turmoil. Right now, all of your anger is diminished by sleep, and your night is back to pleasant.

“Will you come back to me?” You wonder, truly uncertain.

Steve leans down, nuzzling your nose with his own. “The very moment I’m free.”

You pull him closer, hands fisting his hair as he meets your lips with carefully controlled passion.

It feels like he’s holding himself back and you can’t wait until he can finally unleash.

~~~~~~~~~~

It takes all day. This meeting.

Nat is gone. Peter is gone. Steve is still gone.

You haven’t seen Sam or Bucky or Sharon and your mind is racing with possibility.

They wouldn’t have left without telling you goodbye.

Steve especially. After everything, you’re almost completely sure that he would rather cut off his left hand than leave you without a proper goodbye.

Right?

You rise from your seat, moving to the window to peek out at the garden just out of sight. The entrance is the only thing you can see, and you wish you could spot Steve wandering through it, glancing back at the castle in hopes that you’re looking out at him.

At least then you knew that he was waiting for you.

There are other worries on your mind aside from the ones of your budding new romance.

Sharon had said there was a new attack. On a village. Were the children okay? How many men and women had fallen to these Hydra ruffians?

Wringing your hands, you pace towards your tea table, then turn back and pace towards the window once more.

You have to know what happened in the village. This time there is no doubt in your mind that it’s your business to be aware of the state of the kingdom. Maybe you’ll ride out to see what can be done?

As you pull down on the black satin wrists of your sleeves—pale golden leaves and vines wrap around your arms and torso—you wheel around, grabbing the russet skirts of your dress, and move from the room while ignoring the protests of the same soldier who’d switched with Peter last night while you and Steve fought.

“Wait, your Majesty!” He calls after you as you storm through the hallways.

“Keep up, Sir Knight.” You tell him and he catches up, sighing when he realizes that he can’t stop you.

“Where are we going, Madam?” He asks, sounding rightfully frightened.

In the past two months you’ve proven to be quite the handful. Running off. Coming back and raging at Steve. You’ve begun to embrace your temper, and this makes the young Knight nervous.

“I can no longer sit out of his Majesty’s council. If I’m to perform my duties as Queen properly, I need to know what’s happening in my kingdom.” You reply passionately, intent on finding out if you can be of any assistance to the people devastated by this new attack.

“Uh…your Majesty,” The Knight begins, the protest clear in his tone, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish as you and he round the last corridor and find yourself face to face with Sharon.

Dressed in dazzling emerald green, beige cutouts and embroidered glittering beads, her blonde hair offers a pleasant contrast. Her pale pink lips and soft brown eyes offer a more innocent persona than the one you know to be true.

With your hammering heart and aching belly, you reach down to stroke it, inadvertently drawing her attention down to it.

In your dress, you still can’t see the tiny swell. Steve had kissed it and felt it last night and all afternoon yesterday, but to everyone but Grandmother, Nat, and him your baby is still unrepresented.

Sharon stares at your hand soothing your tummy and then turns those soft brown eyes back on you full of apology.

“Your Majesty,” She says and though you should be happy that she’s addressing you as she should—her queen—you feel only anger and pain.

She curtsies.

“Why are you out here?” You ask her, ignoring conventions because you can’t bear to be civil with this woman who’d tried to bed your husband only last night.

Sharon straightens up, glances over her shoulder as she gestures to the door.

“Oh, the council is over. I’ve been dismissed and am heading back home. I want to get on the road before the afternoon gets too late. I’m not averse to travelling by night but with new attacks on the rise-”

“Where’s his Majesty?” You ask her, not interested in her plans.

Sharon watches you, no doubt noticing the way you refuse to look at her and take to looking at the door behind her, the balcony to your left, the floor, anything but her face.

“Your Majesty, I fear that I must ask for your forgiveness.” Her gaze is relentless and with no other option, you look at her.

She doesn’t look particularly sorry. In fact, she looks a little defiant, chin raised up just a bit.

“I cannot apologize for attempting to find in Steve the companionship that I’ve always sought. He married my cousin and so I’d given them their space.”

Is she seriously going to use his name in front of you?!

“He’d made his choice and she was happy so, I relented. I gave up my own happiness so that they could have theirs. I put it so far out of my mind that the fact that he was free to marry once again had not even entered my mind. Not until I saw him with you at the feast did I realize that perhaps, once again, I’d missed my opportunity.”

She waits, watching as you fume as if you’re going to acknowledge anything that she’s saying.

When you don’t, she continues, looking a little more remorseful but still a bit too full of pride to really be sorry.

This creature. This goddess dressed in jade is every bit the image of the Queen that Steve deserves at his side with all the grace and the bitterness you feel is justified. This woman had crawled into Steve’s bed knowing that you’re pregnant. Knowing that he’s married.

You can never forgive her for that disrespect. And she doesn’t really look as if she wants it.

“I really thought that he didn’t love you. I know how desperate he’d been to keep his kingdom and I assumed that he’d tried hard to look as if he really does love you and perhaps even fabricated the pregnancy just to ensure Broklin’s safety.

“I’m sorry.” She finally says and lapses into silence.

A death stare is not nearly good enough to describe the hatred you feel in this moment for Sharon. One of Steve’s oldest friends.

The insecurity you feel when she’s around, talking as if she knows your husband better than you do…wait…but she does. Of course, she knows him better than you do.

You’ve haven’t even known him a year yet. She’s known him her whole life.

This depresses you.

“No, you aren’t.” You shake your head. “You’re not sorry one little bit.”

She swallows thickly, her eyes glued to yours.

“You came into my home and had the nerve to disrespect the sanctity of my marriage. You not only offended me and his Majesty, but you put this kingdom at risk.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I do happy to love his Majesty very much and I think he loves me too. We may not have started out easily—he loved your cousin very much and I know that I can never take her place—but we are finally getting somewhere, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you ruin it.

“I am the mother of his child and will bear many more children for him. I am Queen of Broklin and no one, not even you can take that away from me. As I cannot trust you, I must ask you to never come back here again unless summoned by his Majesty directly. When you do come, you’re to come and do as you are ordered and then go back home.

“If and when you earn my trust again, we will revisit your privileges of visitation in my and his Majesty’s court.” You’re firm in your orders, angry but resolved.

This woman will not get the better of you. She will not shatter your newly earned confidence. You won’t let her ruin this for you or Steve…mostly.

Sharon looks down at your hands, carefully folded around your teeny bump, then meets your eyes again, her own full of subdued rage and annoyance.

“Goodbye, Lady Carter.” Eyebrows shooting up into your hairline, you pointedly wait for her to move.

Sharon curtsies, and without a second glance, moves around you and out of sight.

Trembling you stand there, trying to compose yourself before Steve or any of the others come out.

You chew your lip violently, tearing into the skin and rusty copper coats your tongue.

“Your Majesty?” Your protector checks.

Before you can assure him of anything, the doors to Steve’s council chambers open and the first face you see is that of Lord Ross, looking focused and serious.

He stops as he spots you, bowing low at the waist. “Your Majesty. I hope you are well?”

He’s only being polite, but you try to offer him a smile. “I’m…”

Everyone else files out behind him, first Bucky, then Sam, Thor, Nat, an older man you have never met who looks to be in his mid-forties with graying dark brown hair and a tension in his posture as he hovers behind everyone.

All of them look at you, shocked to see you there.

“Y/N?” Nat’s confusion is mirrored on everyone’s face until Steve moves out of the council room looking just as tired as he had the day before.

He gives everyone a look of confusion, “What’s going on?”

“Your Majesty, are you alright?” Bucky asks, reaching out to place his hand on your forearm but you quickly pull your arm against your chest as your eyes widen in embarrassment and terror.

“Forgive me.” You mutter, grab your skirts, and rush away.

“Your Majesty!” Nat calls after you, trying to move around Bucky.

“Little bird!” Thor calls, also moving after you.

“Y/N, wait.” Steve says calmly.

There are footsteps following behind you and you can’t be sure whose they are until a large hand closes around your wrist.

“Please, wait.” Steve begs. “What’s the matter? Were you coming to look for me?”

He almost sounds happy about it, though worried.

As you fold your arm, curling it in towards yourself, Steve’s grip is so tight that it only draws the two of you closer. He uses the opportunity to pull you in against his chest. So close but not quite pressed up against it.

He releases your wrist and wraps one arm around your waist.

“Look at me.” He urges you, hooking one finger under your chin to draw your gaze up and away from his chest to meet his storm blue eyes full of heart melting concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, tempted to cry. Not because you’re sad. But your frustration is overflowing.

Sharon really upset you and you can’t shake the feeling that she may never stop wanting Steve. What if she tries again? They have so much history together. What if he gives in?

Embarrassed you look around his wide shoulders, just a peek at the group behind him that are all watching you with concern to match his own. Thor seems a bit more upset and you know as soon as you read his eyes that he is very aware that you’re upset without you needing to say so.

“What has upset you, little bird?” He asks from the other end of the hall.

You shake your head, just one small quick shake and turn your gaze back down to Steve’s chest.

“You’re upset?” Steve asks, now sounding equally upset himself.

“Not here.” You whisper, looking around him again.

He straightens up, wraps his arm around your shoulder to give you a quick squeeze then looks over at those waiting.

“If you’ll excuse us?” He says, using the same tone he uses when he speaks to his subjects during the weekly visitations. “Stay here.”

He orders the young Knight who’d followed you.

Everyone recognizes the use of his King’s voice as opposed to their friend and as such, they all bow or curtsy. Thor is the only one who does a small nod—a king himself.

“Come on.” Steve tells you, voice soft again.

He takes your hand and leads you away from the council room, up to your shared wing but moves past your bedroom door and his own and pulls you into his office.

When he reaches his desk, he moves to lean against it, turning to face you and hold both of your hands.

His leaning puts him more at your level and you’re able to look at him more easily.

“Tell me.” He pleads. “Did I do something? Did the meeting take too long?”

You shake your head again.

“Please tell me, sweetheart. I’ll try and make it better.” He urges you, and you feel a little guilty. Is he always this attentive or is he like this because of everything that’s happened between the two of you?

You want him to be his normal self.

“It’s Sharon.” You explain, feeling a bit better now that it’s just the two of you.

With his hands hot around yours, calloused skin chaffing your palms, you take comfort knowing that he’s here with you and not with Sharon wherever she might be now on her way home.

“Oh.” Steve says, his face falling a bit.

“I bumped into her just outside of the council room.” You continue.

“Oh.” Steve says again, this time voice rising as if he’s expecting you to say something good.

“She apologized about what happened last night.” You tell him and his eyes shine with glee. “But she didn’t mean it, your Majesty.”

The disappointment that floods his eyes is for both your declaration of a false apology and because you still won’t say his name.

“Why do you think that?” He asks, releasing your hands but only so that he can stroke your arms from bicep to forearm and then back up.

You’re grateful that he lets the name thing go for now.

“Because I know.” You let him pull you a little closer, settling between his slightly bent knees as he grips your elbows and holds you still. “It was in her eyes. Her tone. She said all the right words, but you could tell she didn’t mean them. So, I…”

What if he gets angry? What if he yells at you and tells you that you can’t keep Sharon from coming here? What if he takes her side?

“What, my sweet?” He gently pushes.

Maybe you should just be honest?

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what, my blossom?” He worries, pulling you a little closer to rest his hands on your back just above your waist.

There’s still enough space to fit another person—well maybe Peter—between you but the intimacy of the gesture is not lost on you.

“That you’ll be angry with me, for what I told her. For what I did.” You chew your lip and Steve is quick to cup the side of your face, once again running his thumb against the bitten pucker to smooth your lips out and prevent you from damaging it further.

He frowns at the small cut you’d bitten into it earlier.

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because I-I told her that until I can trust her, until she’s proven herself to be trustworthy again, that she’s to stay away unless summoned and as soon as her business is concluded, she’s to go back home. No exceptions.

“I told her that she is no longer welcome at court, until I believe she is actually remorseful.” And there it is, all laid out for him to deal with.

Your eyes are glued to his furrowed brow, dark storm blue eyes churning with thought as he takes in your confession.

“What did Sharon say when you gave her this order?” He asks, and his voice is so even, you aren’t sure what to think.

Is he angry? You can’t tell. He looks just as concerned as before. Just as full of questions.

“Nothing.” You answer honestly. “She looked at me as if she wanted to rip my eyes out of their sockets, glared at our baby, and then curtsied and left.”

“She glared at the baby?” Steve asks, absolutely miffed as he places his hand on the teeny curve.

“Well, maybe she was glaring at me?” You sigh. “I’m sorry if-”

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. If Sharon being here in our home is not something that you are comfortable with then we will keep her away.” He nods, firm in his decision.

You suddenly huff a small laugh, all air and surprise.

“What?” Steve asks, his own lips curling up on one side at the sound of your laugh. “Why do you laugh?”

“I don’t mean to.” You shrug. “I’m just not used to you like this. Open. Siding with me.”

Steve’s face falls a little.

“It’s a good thing.” You smile at him, “I’m enjoying you fighting for me instead of with me.”

It’s not your intention to guilt him but that’s what happens, and he groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

You reach up and stroke the soft blonde tresses as they fall towards you, his hair needs a good washing and he needs sleep. You can see it in his face again. Exhaustion.

For a moment you consider insisting he take a nap but then you remember the reason he hasn’t been able to sleep.

“What happened?” You ask him, nudging him up.

“Hm?” He asks, sleepy.

As he straightens up, you keep your hair on the back of his head, tickling the small hairs on the nape of his neck.

“The attack?” You remind him.

His face darkens and all sleep seems to vanish from his expression. “Oh. That. It seems that Hydra has attacked a small village just at our South Eastern border.”

“Were there any casualties? Can we go there? I’d love to help. Anything that I can do, I’m willing to contribute. Food? Supplies? Some doctors? Do they need help repairing their homes or crops? Were there any injured children?” You gasp. “Oh, what if some of them were left orphans? I know what that feels like.”

Steve’s somber expression breaks into a blissed out, sappy smile. He blinks at you slowly, blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You demand, frowning because your mind is still very heavily occupied with thoughts of the victims.

“Because you’re so kind and your thought is not with the fight but with providing help to those that need it.” He explains.

“Of course. Our people come first. They need our help.” You insist. “Can I-?”

“Don’t worry, my love, I’ve already dispatched plenty of aid to the region and I have lots of volunteers to help rebuild the village.” He assures you.

“Was it really very damaged? The people? Were there any fatalities?” You fret.

“The people are mostly fine.” He promises. “There were a few minor injuries. One man lost his life trying to sabotage the Hydra spies’ plan when he became suspicious of them.”

Steve looks down at your tummy, pressing his hand against it lovingly, caressing it. The pain that flashes across his face is real and personal. These people really do mean the world to him.

“We’re making sure that his widow and children want for nothing.” His sorrow is palpable, and you cup the sides of his face to reassure him, to offer any amount of comfort that he might get from your fingers tickling his beard.

Staring into his handsome face, warped with sleep and the endless weight of his sovereignty, you wonder if there’s anything you can do to really help him now, since he’s already got the village covered.

“You look very tired, your Majesty.” You observe.

He shuts his eyes, an exhale of utter grievance slipping through his full lips. An added sorrow twists his already grieved expression. A more embellished downturn to the corner of his lips and just the slightest of creases bringing forth small ridged wrinkles across his wide forehead.

“What is it?” You fuss over him, moving a little closer. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

It’s not like he went out of the castle, but still you can’t help the worry as it comes. You don’t want him hurt.

“Yes.” He admits, and your hands begin to wander down over his shoulders. “Yes, I am very hurt.”

“Where? What happened?” You gasp, looking down at his taut body, chest hair peeking out from the small V of his white puffed sleeve shirt.

“My wife refuses to call me by my name.” He says.

For a moment you’re confused, then realize that his injury is not physical but emotional. Mental.

The ass made you worry for no reason and compared to a village recovering from a recent attack, this grievance of his seems like small potatoes.

You shove his shoulder.

“Don’t do that to me.” You complain, legitimately irritated with his chosen plight.

Steve chuckles. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take this ‘Your Majesty’ thing any longer. I need you to call me Steve.”

“No.” You twist away from him but he’s on his feet chasing after you. You almost want to resist now because of this little stunt. Jerk.

“Come along, wife, please?” He insists.

The shift of atmosphere is subtle, but all tension is wiped away as an infectious playfulness takes hold.

“No.” You shake your head and make for the door but Steve rounds you and plants himself in front of you.

“All I want is for you to call my name.” He pleads.

“No. I won’t do it.” You shrug, turning the opposite way to move towards the corner of his office still hidden from view—Maggie’s corner.

“Do you need me to beg?” He checks, then suddenly, drops to his knees. “I can beg.”

“What are you doing?!” You gasp.

“Is this what you want? A King on his knees?”

“Your Majesty, please, get up.” You gasp.

“No, not until you say my name.”

“Get up.” You tug on his shirt.

His hands are on your waist, eyes staring up at you as you try to turn away from him. He grabs you tighter, forcing you to face him.

“Never.” He threatens

“This isn’t going to work!” You try, setting your jaw so that he doesn’t know how flustered having him down on his knees is making you.

“Then I will simply have to stay as I am. Forever begging, at the mercy of my Queen.”

“Your Majesty-”

“My subjects will see me and wonder why their king is so desperate and broken.”

“Your Maj-”

He slides on his knees as you move, twisting and turning to try and put some distance between you.

“Please?” He begs. “Please say my name. Just once. Please?”

“Will you let me by?” You plead, knowing he’ll never stop.

“My wife refuses to call my name. She doesn’t trust me!” He says loudly.

“Would you be quiet?” You hiss.

He buries his face against your stomach, kissing the small bump then trailing up and stopping just below your breasts.

Throwing his head back, he turns towards the door as his hands take a firmer grip on your hips, fingers digging in just deep enough to keep you rooted.

“This is torture!” He shouts towards the door. “Y/N doesn’t love me! My flower loathes me! She will not call my name. I will die never having heard her sweet lips speak-”

“Gods help me,” You grumble, “Steve please, please stop shouting!”

Your throaty grumble is low so that only he can hear you, but he whips his head around to look at you, an awestruck look making your heart hammer in your chest. Nervous, you bite your lip.

You haven’t tried saying his name since your wedding night and with this utterance comes a flurry of memories that you wish you could forget.

Reaching down you take hold of his hands.

You had been about to push them away, but he changes his hands so that he can intertwine your fingers together.

“Once more, my flower.” He pleads, and there’s a true yearning in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” You admit, having decided to be honest with him, it means you’ll always be open.

“Of what, my love?” He pulls your left hand back up onto his shoulder and wraps his arm around your waist once more, pulling you closer so that your hips are resting against his chest.

“The last time I said your name…” You bite your lip.

Steve sighs, “I know. I wish I could do it all over again.”

He shakes his head and buries it once more into your stomach, his hands curling around the waist of your skirt.

“I know you do.” You begin, preparing yourself. “And I do forgive you, Steve.”

He stiffens, like he’s been stunned with cold water, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are warm. Blue fire dancing amongst the sea storm.

You lick your lips. “Steve.”

His eyes soften, his lips curl up, and he huffs out a small chuckle of relief.

“My sweet flower,” He coos up at you, his hands curling around your backside.

The pure joy he exudes eases your worry. You find yourself smiling too. Softly. Shyly. His mood is infectious, and you wonder if maybe that’s why the two of you couldn’t make progress in the beginning.

All his resistance and frustration, all the rejection and anger, it had all seeped into you too. With him here, on his knees, embracing you, loving you. It’s easy to give in and follow where your heart wants to lead.

“My King.” You caress his face. “Steve…”

There’s a flash of something behind his eyes. Excitement? Then his arms are around you, tight and secure as he spins you around and drags you onto the floor.

You scream in surprise, but the cage of his arms shield you from any harm as he lays you on your back, using one hand to support your head.

The two of you chuckle foolishly, wrapped up in each other in perfect unison for the first time since you married.

As he settles over you, all heat and flexing muscle, he melts over you, curling his body to yours as your body shakes with easy laughter.

“I love you.” He whispers, making your heart flutter. “Have I told you that today?”

As he tucks your hair back, you shut one eye, pretending to think. “You may have mentioned something like that this morning.”

“Last night, you mean. It was so early.” He complains, remembering your sleepy farewell.

“Yes.” You agree. “I liked you in my bed.”

This admission makes your neck and cheeks burn, your fingers tingle.

Steve smirks. “We should go somewhere.”

“Like to visit my parents?” You wonder stupidly.

“No. Together, as in, just the two of us. We’ve spent so little time together alone and the time isn’t exactly right but with what we do, the time will never be perfect. We made no wedding journey and there’s a cottage I’d like to show you. Our cottage. Somewhere that I’ve never taken anyone.” He leans to his right, resting more of his weight on his forearm so that he can look down at you in comfort.

“Not even Maggie?” You wonder.

“No.” He pinches your cheek gently. “Not even Maggie. She opted not to take a wedding journey because we were very busy with Hydra at the time and then we never revisited the idea.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, truly sad for him but Steve shakes his head.

“It’s who she was. The work was most important. As it was for me too before I lost her. Now, I want to appreciate the woman I love. My wife. And our child.” He leans down to press a slow kiss to your lips, just a languid peck, with an audible smack as he pulls away. “Now I know better.”

You’re slightly dazed from the press of his lips and he does it again, probably enjoying the haze his kiss visibly gives you.

“Now I’m going to make each day count. Hydra will probably always be there, and if not Hydra then someone else. I’m going to cherish our family as much as I can. So, will you come with me? Will you let me take you to my special place?”

What kind of place would be so special to him that he would take no one to it? Not even Maggie? Honestly, you cannot wait to find out.

“Yes.” You nod. “Wherever you walk, Steve, I will follow.”

As his name slips from your lips once more, he growls lightly, and lunges towards you to devour your lips.

[commonplaceish]

Commonplace's Basic Cooking Skills #1

This post tells you how to prepare one easy, good meal. It's not necessarily nutritionally complete, but it has protein (meat), carbs and vegetables. It assumes almost nothing about your cooking skills, except to recognise the foodstuffs. It consists of foods which, even if you don't quite cook them right, won't do you any harm (and honestly, you could probably eat them all raw). It is not suitable for vegetarians; I'll cover some vegetarian food in a later post, because it is, on average, more difficult.

The whole meal will take about 4 hours to prepare, but much of that time is leaving the food to cook. You'll be busy for the first half hour and the last 45 inutes, more or less.

(I think roast beef, potatoes and vegetables are one of the most cottagecore meals out there, beaten only by pies. We'll come to pies in a future post, too.)

You will need the following equipment: A stovetop or hob with at least two rings (heating areas) An oven A roasting tin, baking tray, or oven-proof dish Some tinfoil (aluminum foil) Two saucepans or pots (steel if using an induction stove) A chopping board A meat-cutting board (which might also be the chopping board, washed carefully after use) A medium-large knife (which I call the "big knife" in places) A vegetable peeler or smaller knife Access to a sink, or at least a tap A timer of some kind (an alarm clock, a timer or alarm on your phone, or the like) A large fork (this is for holding the meat still to cut it; you might be able to hold it with your hand instead) Ideally, a potato masher, but an ordinary fork will do. Sufficient plates, forks, and knives for people to eat with

You will need the following ingredients:

A beef roast (this is a large piece of beef; there are many kinds. Literally any of them will do for this) of about 1kg (2.2lbs) or more. If you get it without wrapping, ask the seller to weigh it for you. Otherwise, make a note of the weight. Some potatoes Some carrots Some broccoli Some butter Some milk Some salt Some black pepper (pre-ground, or ground at the time of use from a pepper mill)

There are no pre-written amounts for anything but the meat, and even that is an approximation.

Heat the oven to 150C (300F, gas mark 2). If it's a fan oven (you can look in and see the fan at the back), set it to 130C (265F) instead. Make sure there's nothing except the wire shelves in the oven before you heat it. Place the beef in your roasting tin, baking tray, or dish, and shake some salt and black pepper over it - about twice as much salt as you'd put on a plate of fries, and enough pepper to be visible on the surface of the beef. Add about 200dl (a cup) of water to the container, so that it pools around the beef. Cover the beef loosely with tinfoil, making sure the edges go inside the container, not outside. Once the oven is hot enough (usually this is indicated by a light going out), put the beef in its container in the oven, and set a timer or alarm for 3 hours.

Now, peel the potatoes. This can be done with a smaller knife or a vegetable peeler. Be careful not to cut yourself; you can go slowly. There is absolutely no rush at this stage. The peeling does not have to be pretty - we're going to mash these potatoes - so don't worry about that either. Cut the potatoes into very approximately golf ball sized pieces. Take the bigger of your two pots or saucepans, put the cut potatoes in, and pour in enough water to cover them, plus about 1cm (half an inch) more. Leave these aside; they're now ready to cook, but we won't do so until later.

If your broccoli is one large piece, cut out the stem in the middle with whichever knife suits you. Alternately, cut off the smaller "floret" branches one by one - what you want is a number of the smaller branches, the finger-thick ones. If your broccoli comes as florets (sometimes frozen), you don't need to do this. Indeed, if your broccoli is frozen, leave it in the freezer for now. Otherwise, put the florets to one side.

Next, take the carrots, chop off the top and bottom (about 5mm/a quarter inch from the end for the thicker top end, and about 1cm/half an inch from the end for the narrower bottom end). Peel the carrots with the vegetable peeler or knifer, holding the carrots with one hand and cutting away from that hand with the other. Once you have all the rough outer skin off, chop them into coin-like horizontal pieces, each about 5mm/a quarter of an inch thick. Set them aside as well.

You now get to go do something else until the alarm goes off.

When the alarm goes off, open the oven and CAREFULLY take the tinfoil off the beef (use oven gloves or a dry towel to protect your hand reaching in). Close up the oven and set an alarm for 30 minutes.

Now, put your pot of potatoes and water on the stove top/hob, and set that ring to the highest it can go. When it comes to a full boil (when the water is bubbling madly and there's a lot of steam rising), turn it down so that it remains just barely boiling (simmering).

Now, take the other saucepan/pot, and put it on the other ring. Half fill it with water, and set it to the highest setting, so it comes to the boil. Once it does that, put in your chopped carrots - be careful not to splash yourself - and turn the pot down like you did with the potatoes. Add some salt to the water - a small handful is what I use here.

It's now time to check if the potatoes are done. They probably won't be, but it's useful to practice. Take two forks, and stick one of them into a potato in the boiling water. CAREFULLY. If it goes in and comes out easily, the potatos are cooked. If you have to push it in hard, and/or the potato lifts out of the water when you try to pull the fork out, they are not yet cooked. If they are not yet cooked, use the second fork to hold the potato while you pull the first one out, and put it back in the boiling water.

You now want to wait a few minutes, and your timer is in use. You can set a second timer for 4 or 5 minutes, or you could sing yourself a song (most rock songs, solo included, come in around 3 minutes; prog rock and Bauhaus can be way longer). Or you can just watch a clock for a few minutes, although I find my attention drifts. Hold on, it's not that long.

Once 4-5 minutes have passed, check your potatoes again. If they're done, take them off the heat, and carefully pour the water off them. Remember to turn off the ring on the stove/hob. Some of the potatoes will try to roll out of the saucepan; hold them back with the larger knife (or some other implement; it doesn't matter what as long as they don't escape). Put them aside for a few moments. If they're not done, try them again in a few minutes, and then take them off. It might take a few goes; that's ok.

Now add the broccoli to the pot of boiling carrots. You COULD do them in a second pot, and sometimes I do, but this saves on washing up, and makes sure that everything cooks in about the right time.

Your 30 minute alarm will go off soon. Turn off the oven, and CAREFULLY, using oven gloves or a towel, take the roasting dish with the beef in it out, and set it aside to "rest" for a bit. Meat straight out of the oven is difficult to cut; it'll be much easier in 15 minutes or so.

Meantime, back to the potatoes. Take your masher, or fork, or whatever you can find to crush them into crumbs and pulp. Once they're fairly well-mashed, add some butter and some milk. You want a good bit of butter - a golf ball sized chunk is good, I feel, and just a little milk, a couple of spoons full. Mash the butter and milk into the potatoes until they're smooth, adding more milk in small amounts if you need to. If your butter is salted (it will say on the packet), you're fine, otherwise you'll want to add a little salt. Taste a little bit before you add a lot.

When you're finished the potato mash, take the carrot-and-broccoli pot off the heat, turn off the ring, and pour off the water, again holding back the vegetables with the knife or whatever you used for the potatoes. When they're drained, put in a little butter, let it melt on them, and stir it around.

It's now time to cut the beef. This does not have to be pretty! Hold the chunk of meat down on your cutting board (or the chopping board you used for the vegetables), ideally with a towel under the board so it doesn't slip around. Use the big fork or your hand (possibly with some kitchen paper or a small towel or something) to hold it still, and cut off slices with the big knife. They can be as thin as you like, and can manage, but about 1cm (half an inch) thick is fairly easy.

Everything is now ready. Put some mashed potatoes, some vegetables, and some slices of beef on each plate, and tuck in. Ideally, someone else should do the washing up.

Commonplace is a newsletter about food and food history. This is #1 in a series of posts about very simple cooking. It's suitable for people who have never cooked before, or who are nervous about cooking. Feel free to reblog it, or pass it on directly!

[silverlysilence]

Hidden at Hogwarts

So @fabllama02 recently reblogged a post about how the RotBTD Hogwarts AUs got their Houses all wrong (though it does mention how Hiccup was sorted correctly in Ravenclaw and I was like, WTF?!  Most of the art I see is with Hiccup as Hufflepuff, which is believable, but Ravenclaw is obviously the right choice there, but I’m digressing).

Anyways, it points out how Jack Frost should be in Hufflepuff and that got me thinking...

Jackson Overland was by no means the best student to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  He probably would have been sorted into Ravenclaw House if that were the case but neither had he received a Troll or Dreadful on his any of his O.W.L.s.  The worst he got was a Poor in History of Magic but he blamed having a ghost for a professor for that one.  The rest of his O.W.L. were Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations with an Outstanding in Transfiguration that surprised even himself.

Still, despite it being only a few weeks into his sixth year, Jackson was already counting down the days until the end of the term.  Most students would balk at wanting to leave Hogwarts—well, at least when it wasn’t exam time—because it was the best school in all of Europe. However, the majority of the school had something he didn’t. 

Friends.

Oh, don’t get him wrong, Jackson did have friends.  A lot of them if he was being honest but none of them went to Hogwarts.  They either attended regular school or went to one of the other two prestigious European schools of magic.  He was fine with that, in the beginning, since he received acceptance letters from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well and could have followed his friends if he desired to.

But Jackson Overland was stubborn and he wanted to attend the alma mater he read about from his mother’s schoolgirl diary. The young ten-year-old him believed he would make new lifelong friends at Hogwarts and then he’d wouldn’t be sad his other friends weren’t there with him.  The train ride had been a great start, he’d bounced around from compartment to compartment, talking with anyone willing and learning a fair share of Hogwarts outside of what he’d learned from books and secondhand accounts.

Then his Sorting took place.

Ravenclaw was the first to be discarded for the simple reason that he didn’t seek knowledge for the joy of knowing as many of the House so often did and he wasn’t one to believe intelligence was everything.  Knowing didn’t matter when one didn’t have the courage or drive to do something with it.  He was sad, though. Sad that Ravenclaw was immediately taken off the table when air was their element, that stung since he did so love being up in the air, surrounded by the winds.

He wasn’t surprised that Gryffindor was the next House to be rejected.  Jackson could be brave and daring when he needed too, but only when it involved others. Not only that, but fire wasn’t his thing and with it being Gryfindor’s corresponding element, he could live without being a member of the House.

That left two options that the Hat painstakingly struggled with: Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

Hufflepuffs were hard-working, dedicate, patience, and loyalty.  All of which could describe Jackson to the letter, when he felt like it.  He could be dedicated and hard-working if that meant more time for fun.  He had patience—how else could he survive year from year at Hogwarts without being patient?—and was fiercely loyal.  Even better, earth was the element for Hufflepuff.

Before he could get too excited over that fact, the Hat began considering the last option.  

Slytherin House.

Jackson actually knew more about the House than any of the others.  His mother’s diary described many of late nights sitting under one of the silver lamps hanging from the ceiling in the Slytherin’s cold common room. Cold because the common room lies beneath the element of their House, water from the Black Lake, but the warmth of her words spoke of fondness for her House. He might not have the same ambition to become the world’s youngest Potion Mistress as his mother, but his determination and need to toe the line in regards to the rules—he was testing their elasticity—was something they both had in common. Add in his cunningness and resourcefulness nature when pulling off a prank that even impressed the sole portrait—hidden in an antechamber of one of the countless secret passageways Jackson passed his time searching—of a younger Salazar Slytherin and he could very well fit in with people of similiar values.

In the end, the Hat had allowed him to choose and he’d chosen loyalty.  Loyalty to a mother he had vague memories of and a diary full of stories he often dreamed about.

Jackson Overland was draped in the silver and greens of the Slytherin House that night sealing his fate.

The next morning, as he giddily bounced through the halls, cheerfully greeting anyone he passed, he noticed the change.  Where the same students had been happy to help and answer his exuberant questions on the train, they took one look at the colors of his tie and turned up their noses, ignoring him. It soon became apparent by choosing Slytherin, he had effectively alienated the other three-fourths of Hogwarts.  It was disheartening and had him dragging his feet as he tried again and again with other members of the various Houses only to be met with the same result.

At least he had his own House.  The House his mother loved so dearly.  There was just one problem.  A small difference between his mother and him.

Phoebe Black was as Pure-blood as they came and from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black before she’d been struck off the tapestry.

Jackson Overland was a Half-blood.

Nothing more than a Mudblood in the eyes of his Housemates.  

He quickly learned none of them would approach him outside the confines of the dormitories in fear of another student of a different House or teacher seeing them and tarnishing the reputation of Slytherin, inside was another matter.  His homework would always disappear, ink bottles shattered and quills snapped. None of his school robes were destroyed as that would reflect badly on the House and possibly lose them points, his muggle clothes, on the other hand, were mere rags.  Worse was their constant taunts and name-calling.

It was no wonder Jackson had taken to hiding away in Hogwarts as much as possible.  When he wasn’t in class or sleeping behind heavily warded curtains, he was invisible.  Practically a ghost.  For Merlin’s sake, Profession Binns routinely forgot he was a student and would give him Ghost Letters as reading material.  

Thankfully, The Grey Lady caught him attempting to decipher the ghostly writing to no avail one day and kindly read the translucent notes out loud for him to copy down on a sheet of parchment.  He thanked her by placing a single lily flower in the small niche window seat she so often haunted.  Since then, it had become a tradition, when Jackson received Ghost Letters, the Grey Lady would read them aloud for him, and a lily would be put in place the next day.

A process he was repeating once more, gently tucking the Moonbeam Lily that in no way shape or form came from the Forbidden Forest next to the blue and silver pillow. Making sure flower was visible and would be easily spotted, he quickly retreated to one of the hidden passages Salazar informed him of and waited. He didn’t have to wait too long for the Grey Lady to float down the hallway, passing his hiding spot, where she came to a halt next to the window.  

Amber eyes gleamed in happiness when he saw lips forever in a grim expression tilt upwards. Jackson didn’t know if she knew he always stuck around long enough—sometimes hours—just to see her reaction.  To him, it was the best part, because if it made the usual solemn ghost happy for a small moment and that made him happy.

He was just about to take a step back and head down the path at his back when a polite nasally voice drifted down the hall, rooting the brunet to the spot. He couldn’t see the person but the distinguishable clinking of metal against stone every other step was a dead giveaway.  Amber eyes immediately caught sight as tall auburn-haired wearing the same blue and bronze ties as the bulky blond at his side as they made their way pasted his hiding place, animatedly discussing the Triwizard Tournament announcement.  Undoubtedly on their way to their common room to get quills and ink to submit their names into the Goblet of Fire.

It was only after they were long gone, voices but a distant memory that Jackson let out his breath.

“Why do you not talk to him?”

Jackson didn’t jump, but it was a near thing.  Instead, he leaned up against the wall and allowed himself to slide down, sitting in the darkness with only the silvery-grey light cast from the Grey Lady for light.  Drawing his knees to himself, he rested his arms on top and buried his head as if that would further hide him from the world.

“I’d rather not,” the brunet shrugged languidly.

“I do not understand. You often stare at him, and speak fondly of his deeds, but you never approach him,” the Grey Lady glided over towards the teenager.  “Why is that?”

“Because Hiccup bloody Haddock doesn’t know I existed despite having the biggest crush on him?” Jackson mumbled into his arms.

“Yet I have heard you fondly speak of the first time you saw him on multiple occasions.”

“Again, he didn’t know I was there,” Jackson hummed, the memory of his fourth year unbiddenly rise to the surface.

He had just fled Charms class, slipping into the nearest hidden passageway leading to the kitchens for some lunch away from the Great Hall when he heard the deep nasally voice doing a poor imitation of a Scottish accent.  Normally, he would have kept on walking, the prospect of learning a few new recipes from the eager House Elves more of a lure, but the laughter of children had his curiosity peeked.  

Following the laughter led him to a brick wall, but a tap from his wand on an indented stone had the brick sliding back, giving him a glimpse inside the usually unused classroom currently filled with a group first and second years—ties of all colors sans the stark greens and silver of his own—sitting in a circle as a teenager—lacking the telltale tie and all important crest emblazoned robes—read from a book in one hand while waving his wand about in the other hand as he paced inside the circle.

The floating veils above the auburn hair swirled before one floated down, passing by another heading upwards to rejoin the group.  The teenager began reading again as the veil floated around the circle for all the children to get a good look at and when he was finished describing the properties, he asked the group for the name of the plant.  One of the Hufflepuff offered up a name but the teen’s voice took on the horrible Scottish accent once more as he listed how her answer was wrong in a humorous, fun way as to not embarrass her.  

It was in that moment, watching the unknown teen spend his lunch hour teaching the younger students about the various potion ingredients and their properties their Potions Master should have taught them—the bastard hadn’t, Jackson knew that from his experience dealing with the man in his capacity as both a professor and Head of House Slytherin—in preparation for the upcoming exams that his interest in the teen grew.

From then on, Jackson kept an eye out for the auburn-haired teen and observed.  The next time amber eyes caught a glimpse of him it was with him fumbling with his blue and bronze tie as he hurried into the fifth year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class a few seconds before the bell rang.  Jackson was a bit surprised that the unknown teen was a year ahead of him, instead of behind as he initially thought, but he wasn’t surprised to find out he was a Ravenclaw.  A week later, the Slytherin learn his name from his hefty blonde Housemate shouting it from across the courtyard as he pulled the notorious Thorston twins from House Hufflepuff after.

Amber eyes had dimmed upon seeing the Ravenclaw walking towards the trio of blondes with a Gryffindor on either side of him.  The small fledgling of hope worming its way into his heart quickly shattered.  There was no way he could become friends with the kind-hearted auburn-haired teen.  Not with two Gryffindors as friends—best of friends from the looks of how they hung off of each other and a little more on the blonde’s part if he had to guess—because while members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff could be friendly and open with their childhood Slytherins friends and family, Gryffindor and Slytherins did not mix.

At all.

The two Houses always thought the worst of each other, blaming them for everything and since Jackson was lumped together with the other Slytherins, he received more than his fair share of accusations by the House. Another reason he tried so hard to be invisible inside the wall of Hogwarts and stay invisible he would continue to do.  Jackson let the hope die and kept his distance. He could not, keep himself from watching over Hiccup though, and with each new thing he learned about the loyal, intelligent, brave Ravenclaw, the larger his crush grew.

“I could speak to him for you; if you so wish?” the Grey Lady offered.

“Milady, I appreciate you’re offer, but Hiccup Haddock is better off not knowing Jackson Overland.”

[supersoldier-of-asgard]

Nodus Tollens (1/10)

• The realisation that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore •

Pairings : bucky x HYDRA!reader (gender-neutral) + Avengers

~2,5k words oop

Summary : you’ve been practically raised by HYDRA and The Wintersoldier has been your idol, someone you looked up to. What happens when you’re send to kill him and get captured by the avengers? 

Warnings whole fic : language, detailed discription of fighting and blood, a whole load of torture, trauma and a lot of angst ( if you want me to add something then please message me!)

Warnings for this chapter : needles (?) Detailed fighting and mentions of blood

A/N : so this is going to be a short series (hopefully) Please like/reblog/ tell me if you like it because I might not continue if no one reads it. I hope you enjoy! Leave feedback whether it’s good or bad!

OH AND ITS GONNA BE A SLOWBURN this isnt really gonna be a lovey dovey relationship.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Masterlist

Not my gif!

March 2014, almost 4 years ago

“ Agent 0157, you’re expected at labratory 4. “ The scruffy voice through the intercom bounces off the walls, snapping you out of your trance. You take one last look at the small picture on your wall before making your way to the labratory. Men follow behind you and open the many doors before you, the sound of metal screeching open and closing overpowering the sound of the whispered voices in your head.

“ Sit down, please.” An unfamiliar man in a white coat stood by your chair, your usual doctor standing in a corner talking to the man you came to know of as boss.

You quietly obliged and took a seat, taking in a deep breath. Soft murmer filled your enhanced ears and you tried to focus on the conversation instead of the movements of the new doctor.

“—it doesn’t matter. He’s done for.”

“It’s vital we end it before he comes for us.”

“That will be no problem. We took this precaution years ago.”

“This won´t work-“

Their voices were muffled by your silent groans as the needles pricked your arm. You clenched your fists tightly as a cold shock waltzed through your nerves, tingling and eating at your skin. You were used to it by now, but the feeling of the serum intensified with every intake, leaving you to take the pain as it rushed through your veins like a fright train.

They paused their banter and watched in curiosity as your nails dug into your palms. The doctor looked at him with doubt, because he wasn’t sure if you could take what was comming. He was there ever since you were brought in years ago, and he knew you inside out.

The boss gave him a reassuring nod, whispering a quiet  ´ready’ before walking his way infront of you.

A wave of relief flooded you as the pain was digested, your muscles already seeming to grow stronger.

“How are you feeling?” Your eyes snapped to the source of the voice, a man in an all black suit standing before you with a wicked smile.

“Stronger,” you mumble, stretching your fingers and pressing them hard against your palm, flexing your muscles to feel the added power.

“Good. We have a new mission for you.”

You silently stare at him, awaiting his next words. But the name he uttered out of his mouth slapped you in the face, your head snapping to the ground in utter shock.

“We want you to kill The Wintersoldier.”

Your body tensed up, your thoughts flashing to the picture that hung on your wall of the man whom wore that name on his back.

“He escaped our grasp and fled. He isn’t our ally anymore, but our enemy. You have to make sure he isn’t a threat anymore.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you awaited his next words, trying to share no sign of emotion.

“He has teamed up with Captain America, and is now probably planning his attack. I want you to do what we’ve trained you to do.”

It seemed as if your body couldn’t be more tense than it was, as you repeat the words at the same time it dripps from his lips.

“Be merciless, emotionless and don’t hesitate.”

June 2018, present

You stood a couple feet away from the infamous avengers building, contemplating your plan and going over every single detail as music filled your ears through the tiny musicplayer tucked in your pants.

You couldn’t mess this up. You couldn’t. This was your chance to prove yourself against him and you weren’t going to let something as stupid as emotions get in your way.

You knew what you were getting yourself into, but a well thought out plan wasn’t an option when you had so little time. They gave you a week.

A week to take The infamous, 101 year old assasin out. Oh, and not to forget he now has someone or maybe even multiple people protecting him with their lives. You had been prograstinating this mission since the words registered in your brain, and they didn’t have the patience left to spare. No one knew of your whereabouts, because a certain thought paced through your mind, begging to be freed in place of the one you were just about to perform.

You were wearing casual clothing, all of your weaponary under your clothes, safely hidden away. You knew their schedule by heart, the building inside out excluding the secret places since it’s hard to get access to that. Yet, you felt nervous.

You had never met him before, only seen from afar, on files you studied all night and hanging from your wall. How would you react when you would actually see him?

Be emotionless. You reminded yourself, taking a deep breath and letting your face fall into a blank stare. The music gave you courage to go inside.

It was 3 AM on a sunday, all of the avengers except Captain America and The Wintersoldier off to an unknown mission. The AI had been hacked a week ago to recognize your face as one of their own, so when you entered, you could easily walk through the first line of defence.

“Good morning Miss. Potts. What brings you here at this time?” You adjusted your ginger wig and cleared your throat.

“Just getting something important that I forgot.”

“Should I notify Mr. Stark?”

“No. It’s nothing important, he doesn’t have to know,” you calmly answered, clutching the little bottle in your hand while making your way to the elevator.

Once you entered the floor where all the bedrooms were, you made your way to the room of the Captain. Your feet dragged you to the door as if you had done it a hundred times, the place almost familiar to you.

You opened the door a creak without making sound, weary that he doesn’t wake up. He should be in a deep sleep now, as he normally goes to bed between 12 and 1 AM. You toss the bottle into the room and close the door, letting the gas fill the bedroom and into the system of the supersoldier. When a couple moments passed, you opened the door fully.

He was laying peacefully on the bed, his chest heaving up and down in the dark. You quickly walked up to him, pricking the needles in his arms and filling his nerves with the numbing serum.This would give you an hour to do your job, so you quickly closed the door and walked to the room opposite.

Once you got closer, your enhanced ears picked up the rapid thumping of a heartbeat behind the booming of the drums from the music through your earphones.

He was laying on his back, his chest rapidly moving and his metal arm clutching the sheets as tightly as he could. His sweaty hair stuck around his face, grunts leaving his clenched teeth.

He was having a nightmare or a panick attack.

You watched in curiosity as the plates of his metal arm moved and jittered at his movements. His eyes were tightly closed, causing crinkles to form that stretched across his nose. you could see the way he tried to hold back his screams, rigged breathing and muffled screams leaving his lips. You wondered what he was dreaming about.

This was going to be quick and easy, and you were almost disappointed he wasn’t going to put up a fight. The Wintersoldier shouldn’t be taken down this easily.

You slowly took out the needle and with a quick movement went to stab it through his arm. Before you could though, the coldness of his metal hand spread across your wrist, your movements coming to a halt as your bloodflow stopped for a couple seconds. Your breathing involuntarily hitched as your other free hand went to your gun when his eyes shot open.

Talked too quickly.

He tossed you to the other side of the room, your back colliding with the wall as the needle flung to god knows where. You quickly stood up again, throwing one of your knives through the blanket of the dark his way, only for him to dodge it.

He charged your way and flung his arm to your face, causing you to duck and take the opportunity to hit him in his abdomen as hard as you could.

He just woke up from a nightmare, so he was still trying to come to his senses and make out what was happening. He blindly fought the intruder, his mind not registering a plan or even a tactic.

You had advantage. You slid your knife across his right arm, the night showing his blood a dark red oozing out of the wound, rolling behind him as he tried to kick with his bare feet. You fired your gun at him but he either dodged it or hit it with his metal arm.

Blood pooled in your mouth as his knee collided with your face, but you spit it in his face, jumping to the needle that caught your eye. He kicked it away before swiftly kicking your face to fling you across the room.

“STEVE!” His raspy voice shouted for his friend and you smirked, knowing he won’t wake up soon.

Bucky caught the look on your face as rage pumped through his veins and drew the curtains from his eyes. He messily tried to punch you, but you blocked his metal arm with ease, stopping all his other movements and headbutting him to the floor.

You finally grabbed the needle, throwing one of your knifes his way to distract him. It scraped his face, but he whipped his sticky hair out of his mouth and charged your way. His fingers caught the strands of your hair as he yanked it.

Or should it be wig, as he ripped it out a little too harshly and stumbled back from the force. Before he could process anything, you stuck the needle in his leg. He stumbled to the ground but kicked you down with him, almost in sync with the drop of the beat from the melodies occupying your hearing.

You rolled around quiet some time, him trying to pin your arms down and you trying to free them and punch him, before he had the upper hand and closed his left hand around your throat while trapping your body between his and the floor.

You kept your straight face as he clenches his fingers, trying to make you give up. You thrusted your hips foreward and closed your legs aroung his waist, pressing as hard as you could to weigh him down. You could see he was struggling as the serum kicked in.

“Who the fuck are you and what did you just put in me?!” he spat, standing up and smashing you into the wall. Your feet dangled above the ground but you continued to stare blankly at him, his pale blue eyes still clouded by his lack of sleep.

It was a wonder your earplugs hadn’t flung out yet.

Your hand quietly pressed a button on your sleeve, a knife emerging that you stabbed through his chest with as much force as you could muster. It went pretty deep and even surprised you. He let go, clutching his wound while trying to stay on his feet.

Whatever you had put in him, made him weak and he hated it. His long brown hair stuck on his face and shielded his eyes, as he blindly swung his arms, denting walls but not touching the person he has yet to identify.

You hit him hard in the back, causing him to fall on his knees. You quickly took control and held him down on the floor, placing a tiny device on his shoulder that would make him lose control of his left arm. He turned and gasped in shock as he couldn’t move his arm, instead headbutting you.

You stumbled back and just as he was about to sit on you, you kicked his chest where you had stabbed him, throwing a metal bounder on him that wrapped itself around him like a blanket. He went to charge at you but dropped on his knees as electric shocks numbed his body.

Bucky couldn’t seem to find the strength to stand up anymore, let alone fight. The metal bound that kept his numbing arms down pressed cold against his chest. Breathing was hard and the coldness of the metal forced him to stay awake.

He was starting to accept his fate when you walked up to him with another needle. Before you could inject him, something hit your hand hard and made you drop it.

You turned around to see Captain standing there, analyzing the situation before him as he charged as hard as he could. His hair was still messy and the pyjamas clung to his body. You had injected him with two serums as well as the smoke bomb so he was weaker than soldier was.

He grunted as he couldn’t seem to control his arms and legs, moving slower than usual and out of breath faster than normal. He picked his shield up as you two began to fight for what seemed like eternity, bucky watching in agony at the sight before him.

It was still night, the rest of the world asleep and the lack of sound from cars making everything surreal and feeling like he hadn’t woken up from the nightmare he had had a couple moments ago.

Captain screamed in pain as you shot him in the legs with your gun, taking his shield and throwing it out of the window. You shot him three more times on both of his shoulders and watched him fall to the ground, out of breath from the fighting.

“Steve!” Bucky croaked out, not accepting the fact they lost so easily. This had to be a dream.

You injected both of them again to make sure it doesn´t wear out and enclosed the metal bound around Captain too. He looked up at you from the ground and screamed.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS.”

You didn’t answer him as you stepped towards the former Wintersoldier.

“LET HIM GO I WILL KILL YOU!” Steve fought against the metal but couldn’t find the strength to break it. He wasn’t about to let his best friend he just found again be taken away for the second time.

The music danced through your ears as you filled up and cocked your gun, the sound of Steve’s pleas drowned out by the lyrics. You aimed it at bucky’s head almost robotically, his blue eyes watching you without emotion, accepting his fate.

You tapped your finger on the trigger, your thoughts screaming at you to stop. You shook your head and held your breath, gripping bucky’s hair in your fist with a quick motion. He grunted and looked up at you with furrowed eyebrows, the words seemingly writting on the creases of his forehead. The blood that you spit on his face smudged around his eyebrows, his sweaty hair clinging to your bruised fingers.

“Be merciless, emotionless and don’t hesitate,” you whispered to yourself in encouragement, your voice sounding foreign to your ears. All these years you’ve prepared for this moment, and all you had to do was pull the goddamn trigger.

Your eyes stared at the helpless man before you, the deep dark ocean-blue of his eyes locking you in place. The same blue that kept you going when things got tough, the same blue that encouraged you to become stronger, the blue that lulled you to sleep. The blue that lightened your vision when all you could see was red.

“Look at how pathetic you look right now,” you whispered harshly, not able to hold yourself back to say the words that you were dying to say to him, as these were going to be the last words he was going to hear anyways.

“You were strong, vicious and the best soldier ever known to men and now... crouching at my feet like nothing more that a regular man.” Your grip on his hair loosened, instead your gun caressing his face as he motionlessly locked your gaze.

“You were The Wintersoldier, but now you depend on a weak and stupid old friend that makes you vulnera-“

Your speech was cut short by a familair burning feeling on your back, followed shortly by a blow to the head. Your vision darkened more than it already was at this time of the day in the night, as you slowly turned your head to see a faint red smudge standing at the doorway.

The floor pulled you to the ground, the music in your ears slowly fading out and becoming incomprehensible as you let the night swallow your soul.

.

A/N : as you might have guessed, civil war never happened in this story and I’m also not going to include wanda or vision! Everyone is happily in avengers tower

part 2

#Tags

@unicornsxfandoms

[youlovemeade]

Witchlands: Modern AU!

Hey!! So @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername made these awesome aesthetics and press blurbs for a Witchlands Modern AU, and I used those (with their blessing!) as a jumping off point for what will hopefully be a multi-chapter fic of idk how many chapters. I’ll probably post one per week so I can still do drabbles throughout the week too. No promises, though, because I’m not the best with consistency and as with all the writing I do, even that which is wholly my own, I start strong and fade fast and never finish... 

You can see the awesome aesthetics/press blurbs here:

Safi x Merik

Iseult x Aeduan

Ryber x Kullen

Vivia x Stix

I quoted some of the things in the Safik and Baeseult posts in my fic below. They’re really cool so I would definitely check them all out, like them and reblog them!!

People who asked for tags if I wrote this: @morebooks-pls @inopinion

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Susan Dennard, and the ideas came from @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername

Word Count: 1260

Rating: PG-13 for language.

Trigger Warnings: Reference to potential forced marriage. (Let me know if there are others I should add and I will do so immediately!!)

The magazine made a harsh slapping sound as it hit the coffee table. As soon as it was down, Safi changed her mind and picked it back up, tearing it open to the offending page and reading the article for the hundredth time.

Iseult didn’t quite sigh from her place on Safi’s sofa, but Safi could so easily feel the exasperation radiating off of her that she might as well have. Still, Safi said, “Found people my age to date?” Her grip on the magazine tightened until it rippled under her fingers. “As if I found Henrick. As if I sought him out, and now I finally came to my senses and found someone appropriate. And what is this ‘too close to be innocent’ bullshit?”

“Boys will be boys and old men will be old men,” Iseult replied, her voice monotone as always. “All of this was obviously out of Henrick’s control and you were at fault for enabling him.”

Safi didn’t respond to that, though, as she was already past Henrick and onto Merik. She turned the magazine so Iseult could see, folding one half behind the other to narrow the focus. “Look at this picture they put in here, Iseult.” She tapped her index finger furiously against the photo of her and Merik leaving the art exhibit opening, hand-in-hand. The tabloid had blown up their hands into a separate circle from the main photo. “Look!”

Iseult looked, quite dutifully, even though Safi had made her look thrice already, before meeting her friend’s eyes. “You slut.”

Safi groaned loud enough to shake her penthouse and threw the magazine behind her. It made quite a bit of noise as it fell through the air, but she didn’t bother to see where it landed. She just flopped down onto the couch to let her groaning continue.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Iseult said, her head tilted so she could see around Safi, as she apparently did want to see where the magazine ended up. “It seems like your plan is working.”

“We don’t know that,” Safi countered. “And we won’t know until I get a call from uncle Eron.”

“You say, as if he’s looked up from the bottle long enough to notice that you’ve done anything.”

Safi groaned again and tried not to let the truth feel like a hit. Iseult was right, of course, but it still pained her to think about her uncle, his drinking problem, and how easily messing up her entire life came to him when he was inebriated.

“Why did I do this, again?” Safi asked.

“I don’t know. You made the decision without me.”

“It’s an utterly stupid idea that puts me in utterly unbearable situations.”

“Again, your idea.”

“And Merik Nihar? I mean, honestly. Of all the people in New York - Merik Nihar.”

“Completely your choice.”

“His palm was sweaty.”

“Seems fake.”

Safi sniffed at that, indignantly. “Well. His tie was crooked.”

“That’s true,” Iseult replied, a ghost of a smile on her face that made Safi smile, too, despite everything. Her friend let the silence be for a minute before continuing. “I get it. It’s annoying. But this is what you want. Henrick hasn’t made the official engagement announcement, and now his team will hold off because of the publicity you have with Merik. They’ll tell Eron to get you under control and will wait until your press has calmed down to announce, and you, of course, won’t get under control and instead will make an announcement of your own: you’re Merik Nihar’s girlfriend. It will work.”

Safi found herself nodding halfway through, but her stomach still twisted with a sense of wrongness. She couldn’t relax, because something in her gut was screaming at her that this would go sideways, because all her plans always went sideways.

But Iseult’s didn’t, and Iseult was right in front of her telling her that it would be okay. So it would be okay.

“When?” she asked. “When do you think will be a good time to make that announcement?”

“Ryber and Kullen’s wedding? It’s just a few weeks away, and though they wish they could completely avoid the press, we know they won’t be able to. If you can post something to Instagram and draw the attention away from them...”

“Yeah,” Safi replied, and she nodded for good measure. “Yeah. I’ll ask Ryber.”

Iseult nodded, too, and Safi relaxed enough to reach down and start to undo the buckle that trapped her foot in her way-too-painful heels. When Iseult didn’t reach down to remove her own shoes - sensible tennis shoes, because Iseult was always sensible - Safi paused. “You’re not staying,” she said. It was a statement more than a question, because Safi was already sure of the answer.

“I’m not. I have an appointment.”

“To do what…?”

Iseult’s nose wiggled, just a bit, nostrils flaring, and Safi knew that she didn’t appreciate this line of questioning - which only convinced Safi to stay on it. “I’m meeting with Aeduan.”

Safi blinked at her. Once. Twice. Then she made quick work of sliding off her first shoe and unbuckling and sliding off the second, before throwing the upper half of her body over the couch in what she was sure was an inelegant sight. “You know,” she said, her hand clasping the previously abandoned magazine. “I was not the only one featured in this magazine.” She grunted as she pushed herself up from over the back of the couch and turned to face her friend again. She ripped the magazine back open and turned it back to Iseult, her finger this time furiously tapping a footnote below a picture of Iseult and Aeduan talking by a painting in the exhibit. “Are their recent meet-ups for dinners and at galas with their friends just casual?” She quoted. “Or is something else cooking?”

“If something else was cooking,” Iseult replied, cool as ever. “You would know.”

“Why don’t I know whatever is actually happening, even if you’re not whipping up a meal?”

Iseult didn’t have an immediate answer to that, which made Safi frown. She didn’t say anything more, though, because she wouldn’t squeeze the answer out of her friend. Even if she wanted to.

“He asked for my help,” Iseult said, slowly, in that way she always did when she was choosing her words carefully. Safi knew it to be a lingering habit from when she had to work to get over her stutter. “I’m helping.”

Safi held herself back from releasing a breath that would have sounded way too disappointed. “Is he okay?” Iseult nodded. “Fine, then. But if you or he need my help too…”

“I’ll ask,” Iseult reassured her. “Always. I know I can ask.”

Safi returned her nod, and then finally let out her breath in the form of an overly dramatic sigh. She let herself fully lay down on her couch, in a movement that could only be described as a flop. “You may leave, I suppose.”

Iseult’s reply to that was a pillow in Safi’s face, which had Safi laughing instantly. She kept the pillow where it was, letting its weight against her eyelids act as a comfort that would lull her into an afternoon nap.

“I am taking this magazine with me,” Iseult said, and Safi heard its pages flutter against each other as she picked it up. “And recycling it. Don’t overthink things.”

“That’s funny, coming from you.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Goodbye, Iz.”

Safi could hear Iseult’s smile even though she couldn’t see it. “Bye.”

[hisazuki]

Yona ch.150 spoilers

Akatsuki no Yona chapter 150 “Conclusion” summary

Please don’t repost/reuse my scans and translations without permission. Tumblr reblog is fine.

The meeting/conference will happen in the Wind Tribe’s side of the military camp, in a huge heavily guarded tent. Tae-Woo and Han-Dae discuss the treaty and how Shin is such at a disadvantage they’ll probably have to accept whatever Soo-Won throws at them. They were surprised that a few moments before, Tao requested for Hak and Yona to attend the meeting as well. SW’s side was pretty shocked and Kye-Sook was even seething with rage., trying to dissuade Tao and saying this is a very important conference for both parties. Kouren sarcastically asks if this means Yona is no longer a royal since she was chased from her castle.

Yona tells Tao it’s fine, she didn’t wanted to attend the meeting anyway. Tao then proclaims loud and clear that if they were able to overcome their hatred and come to this conference, it’s thanks to the trust/faith they placed in Yona. Princess Yona is Shin’s savior and they fully intend to treasure their mutual friendship. Han-Dae realizes it’s basically her way to tell SW’s group to back off and let Hak and Yona alone. Tae-Woo says Tao must’ve read the atmosphere and seen how angry Kye-Sook was.

Han-Dae asks if they can go over to see Hak (who is standing close to Yona outside the tent) for a bit, but Tae-Woo tells him he should read the atmosphere too: there are soldiers and even Hak is pretending he’s someone else. Meanwhile, Lili goes to Yona and tells her she’s worried about their safety. The princess says it’s fine, Tao’s got their backs. Lili explains she’s talked with the Water Tribe soldiers too so the Sky army shouldn’t be able to lay a hand on her. She says she’ll help Yona too so she should depend on her more. Yona thanks her but adds Lili should still be careful. Lili says she’ll be fine since she’s not afraid of anything anymore.

Author notes: I’m so grateful I was able to draw 150 chapters of this story already! I still have things I want to write, so I hope you’ll accompany me for a bit longer.

Then the two Shin princesses come out of the tent. The meeting is over. Voldo explains Shin's foreign and military affairs are now under Kouka’s supervision. In exchange, Soo-Won promised the citizens wouldn’t come to harm. Kouren tells Yona she’s guilty for not being able to keep Gobi and his minions under control, so it’s not like they had another choice.

As Soo-Won steps out too, Hak glares at him. Kye-Sook asks SW about the four dragons Gobi spoke of, and the king says he has no idea and he’s not interested. They will return to Hiryuu Castle and deal with the matter of the Fire Tribe’s beacon. Kye-Sook secretly signals a guard and tells him to investigate Princess Yona and the 4 dragons.

Kouren remarks Yona’s friends are still in Shin. She wants Voldo to tell General Namsek to have his troops escort them back to the Wind Tribe camp and give them back their weapons. She then asks Argila where Gobi went. Turns out he fled/disappeared somewhere :S Argila is disappointed: he wasn’t on friendly terms with Neguro and Mizari, but he wishes he could’ve talked to them more. Kouren is very serious when she tells him they’ll make sure Gobi and his followers pay for their sins.

Lili comes close and casually tells Kouren she’s badly injured. Kouren says it’s not her blood, but Lili won’t have it and says she must be treated at once. Stubborn Kouren refuses to be indebted to Kouka, so she will head back to Kyuu castle. Lili calls Ayura and Tetora, who promptly appear and carry her away for Ayame to treat her. Lili says they won’t make her pay for the medicines or anything, but Tae-Woo sulkily remarks they belong to the Water Tribe in the first place.

Kouren arrives to the same place Yotaka was being healed at. He’s all bandaged up and becomes quite shaken up when he sees Kouren with a very lose yukata-like outfit (Tetora’s). Since Yotaka can’t handle seeing bandaged boobs, Kouren asks for her overcoat back. After they’ve told Yotaka what happened with Mizari and Neguro, he’s sad about being the only 5 Stars left.

Argila: Voldoctopus and I are still here, you know.

Yotaka: You’ve no right to call yourselves members of the 5 Stars!

Tae-Woo appears and says he’s glad to see Yotaka alive. He brought them medicinal food, and leaves once Yotaka explained who he was and Kouren properly thanked him.

Yotaka: Lady Kouren... Kouka wasn’t solely inhabited by demons, after all... I wanted... to tell Neguro that too.

Kouren tells him she intends to bring Neguro and Mizari’s bodies back to Kyuu Castle and bury them. She whishes he could stay here and heal properly, but she understands he’ll want to accompany her. Yotaka cries and says he will go with her.

Afterwards, the two princesses say their farewells to Yona. They have things they wish to tell their father while he’s still alive. Tao hugs Yona and tells her she’s grateful for all she’s done. Yona says she’s glad she met her and Kouren. Kouren says she spoke with Soo-Won about the possibility of citizens still rebelling against them so for now, she has no time to dwell on the past and she can only move forward just like Yona did.

Voldo says he’ll come visit them in Kouka again sometime, then yells at Argila for not coming to say goodbye. Actually, Argila is by the dragons’ side, sighing about them not waking up in time for him to properly thank them. Zeno, who is also lying by their side, tells him it’s okay and he’ll let them know once they wake up. Argila cries and hugs Zeno, thanking him repeatedly. As he turns back to leave, Shin-Ah calls out to him and says “see you again” (they’re all awake and smiling).

A few days later, King Bushin died and Kouren ascended the throne. We see Kye-Sook atop his horse, thinking it’s quite a feat they were able to sign the treaty without shedding a single drop of the Kouka soldiers’ blood. However, Princess Yona is too dangerous.

Outside the Wind Tribe camp (who seem to have lingered behind), Yona and Yoon are relieved to see the dragons have woken up, even if they still can’t move. Yoon wants to know what kind of power it was that they used on Yona, but Jae-Ha says he has no clue and he only desperately wished to protect Yona at the time. Zeno says the 4 dragons conceal greater powers than they imagine. If Seiryuu lets his powers run wild, he’ll become entirely paralyzed. Zeno explains this time was something akin to that. They let their emotions take over and didn’t control their powers so that’s why their bodies couldn’t keep up. Kija asks if they can become stronger once they learn to control those powers. Zeno doesn’t recommend it: they’re short-lived after all (apart from him of course). Yona thanks them for saving her, but doesn’t want them to use those powers again.

Yoon wonders where Hak went. Yona goes to look for him. He was injured too, but stood a long time to watch Soo-Won’s troops leave, as if telling them to back off. She thinks he might be somewhere moping alone, then she sees light coming from the Wind Tribe camp and walks in on Ayame bandaging Hak’s arm.

Hisa’s thoughts on the chapter: 

I was really hoping to see how the meeting unfolded and get some more insight about Soo-Won... For an arc that spanned so many chapters, it ended a bit abruptly and nothing really changed for our main players except that Yona gained more allies who would be in a pinch if they were to oppose SW. I don’t think we’ll see the Shin characters again anytime soon. It’s unlikely Soo-Won will call for them if he goes to war against Kai in the near future, as Kouren still has a broken army and angry citizens to deal with.

Zeno made his case about the dragons’ powers, so that barrier-like burst of power wasn’t meant to become part of the warriors’ attack and defense kit. It doesn’t seem to be related to the shield from the prophecy either.

I wonder what Kye-Sook’s informants will dig up about the dragons. According to the Kouka citizens and soldiers who saw them, they must be like saviors with divine powers. According to Shin witnesses, they might turn out to be weak humans who can easily be injured and restrained with ropes ^^; As long as he doesn’t learn the trick about being too far from Hiryuu Castle, they should be fine.

[amoristt]

Watching Angels II | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

Anonymous asked:  Could you write the 2nd part of Watching Angels? It's amazing +  From the Drabble list... Could you write Fluff 5 for Nathan? :D

sorry this one turned out so much shorter than the rest! for some reason i had an issue writing it... i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 the preview looks kinda bad but i swear this is some sort of fluff!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language

Nathan’s phone shattered the second it hit the ground, and you watched in silence. He was fuming now, shoulders squared, jaw tensed, hands balled tight into fists. Though you weren’t yet sure what had happened you could guess what it was: his father. Normally you’d refuse to be around someone who’s entire personality could shift in just seconds but with Nathan it was different. He had no grip on his anger and you knew this, but he did too, because when you took a step back he saw the uncertainty in your expression and instead of punching a wall like he so obviously wanted to he roughly sat down on the futon across from his bed. He gripped at his hair and seethed, body nearly quaking in anger.

“Nathan,” You called, voice soft and hesitant. It felt like just a second ago you were both laughing. “Was it your da-”

“Yeah.” He interrupted you. He covered his face with his hands and you could hear him trying to manage his breathing. That’s good, learn to control yourself. You moved to sit on the bed across from him, leaning forward and trying to see any expression you could make out beneath his thin fingers.

“What happened?” You asked. He just shook his head, and you knew he’d rather not talk about it. At this point, though you didn’t even need to know. His father probably bitched at him for getting into trouble, had his sister work as some sort of pacifier to try and get him back inline, and it had backfired.

My entire fucking family hates me, he’d once screamed at you. Kristine thinks dads just some big bully, she doesn’t fucking get it! No one does!

But, you did. Of course you didn’t know every last dark ‘Prescott’ secret, but you’d known enough. You knew his sister was just trying her best to help Nathan, make him feel less traumatized than he was, but in turn it never worked. She talked to him like she was talking to a child who’d gotten into an argument with a friend, but Nathan wasn’t a child, and Sean most certain was not a friend.

Sometimes it made you upset how he was treated. Nathan was troubled, and he needed help, but he wasn’t… Evil. He had his moments, yes, where you’d wonder if there were sides to him that you’d never known but he’d always come back to you, apologize. He was such an angry soul but along with all the hate there was good, he just needed the right person to bring it out. There were so many people that would use Nathan for bad just because he was easy, because he was always looking for some sort of validation, and it was a scary thought to realize that.

“No one understands.” Nathan said into his hands. “Everyone hates me.”

Your brows knit in worry, and before you could stop yourself you were up and bounding for the futon. It would have been easy for him to shove you away, yell at you to get out, but he grew quiet as you sat down beside him. When you ran your hands from his shoulders, down to the small of his back, he leaned to the side against you. It was a great improvement when you compared it to the times he’d refused any help from you. He said it was because he didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not from you, but you knew it was all a ruse. He hated being seen as weak, so you learned to not take his fury-induced words personally.

“I don’t hate you,” You murmured. “I could never hate you.”

“You could,” He argued, though it was a losing war. He was already giving up. “You will.”

“I won’t.” Softly you made circles at the small of his back, watching him carefully. From the minute Nathan had picked up the phone you knew this was coming. It was jarring to see him stand up and whip his phone at the floor, and it was even scarier to see the screen break apart at the blunt force, but you stayed, and you waited for this moment. In his bouts of anger there was always this moment.

It was small and quick, barely there if you blinked twice, but you’d learned to harbor the few seconds when he’d lean against you. Sometimes he would just sit there in silence, and sometimes… Sometimes he would cry. And then you would cry, and you would tell him one day this would all be over, and it would just be the two of you with the big open world. He’d nod, wipe his eyes in frustration, and say he knew, but in some ways you knew these things were just… words.

You wanted nothing more than to ditch Arcadia Bay, and ever since you’d brought it up with him it was a constant thought, but deep in your heart you knew you would likely be tied to Arcadia Bay forever. Plus, even after everything, Nathan still seeked the approval of his father. He could yell, curse, break things and swear up and down that he hated his father's guts, wanted nothing but to break away from the Prescott name, but in the end you knew he wanted to do right by his father. It saddened you to think about how he was chained like that, stuck between hating his father and needing to live up to his expectations. It fucked him up beyond belief.

So, for now, the only thing shoved into a suitcase was the thoughts and plans of leaving the city. You’d leave a note attached to the zipper that read, “For the future”, and you’d shove it into the back of your mind.

Your eyes found their way to the floor, catching on his broken phone. The first time you saw him destroy his cellphone you were worried you wouldn't be able to call or message him anymore, and then it turned out the next day he’d gotten a brand new one. After that you lost count of how many he went through.

“Can we go?” Nathan suddenly spoke, and you looked at the digital clock by the wall. The dorms would be locking up soon but you nodded anyways.

“Yeah,” You said. “Where do you wanna’ go?” Nathan shrugged, and you leaned your head back in thought. “Beach?”

Even though it was cold out, summer still being months away, he agreed.

When you stood up he followed, rolling his shoulders and taking in a much needed deep breath. He inspected the broken phone on the floor and you were scared for a second he would get mad all over again, but instead of restarting his cycle he just shook his head in irritation and grabbed his varsity jacket from the top of his bed. You in turn leaned down, grabbed your shoes and slipped them on before throwing on a light jacket.

Outside was much colder than you’d initially thought it would have been. Your breath was visible every time you breathed out, and even though there was no snow on the ground there was some soft frost lining over the grass. As much as you hated goosebumps and shivering, you were grateful that this was the worst winters could be in Arcadia Bay. You’d rather have this than 3 feet of snow and icy roads.

You tried to maintain yourself in front of Nathan, fingers subconsciously gripping your forearms as you fought the urge to shake. Nathan would give you his jacket rather you’d want it or not if he found out you were cold, and even though you did like wearing it you’d rather he kept it for himself today.

The thought made you smile, though. Big bad Nathan Prescott would totally give you his only jacket in order to make sure that you were feeling okay. People would go nuts if they’d learned that little tidbit, but then again maybe they wouldn’t. They’d ignore anything that could potentially make Nathan seem like he was human.

“Ugh, he’s only doing that because ‘he's got possessive issues,” someone would say. “Yeah, he’s a total freak.” Another would add. You frowned bitterly at knowing how some people treated him.

“What is it?” Nathan suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he was looking down at you, probably wondering why you were looking so crossed for no apparent reason.

You shook your head. “Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“Whatever you say.”

As he turned his gaze back down the ground, you looked up at him. He obviously wasn’t nearly as upset as he had previously been, but there was still something swimming beneath his skin. You could see it in the way he didn’t shiver in the cold like he normally did. He hated colder temperatures, and whenever it was even slightly chillier out he’d shake even with the aid of his jacket. This time, however, he didn’t, which led you believe his mind was still racing with whatever his father had said to him earlier. How could he think about how cold he was when he was remembering his father's shitty words?

Worried, you wondered if you should try to hold his hand, remind him that you’re there for him. When you two were alone he wasn’t against it, but maybe right now wasn’t the best time. He scared you, but not in a frightening way. You weren’t scared of what he could do to you, no, you were scared of what he could do to himself. Should he blow up at you, cross some sort of line you’d made in the imaginary sand, he’d always mellow out at some point and try to make it up to you. However when it came to himself he owed no apologies. He liked to pretend nothing could cut him, that words were only sticks and stones that would bounce clean off, but you knew better. You knew better than anyone else that words could fuck him up just as easily as a fist could, but those marks were much harder to see than bruises.

He was so reckless with himself, doing all these drugs, getting into trouble. He didn’t care whatsoever what happened to him and it worried you so bad. At one point you’d accidentally started an argument about it with him- and even though you hated fights it turned out pushing your relationship further than it was before.

You can’t do this to yourself, you’d cried at him, and when he asked why you said, It’s not fair to me.

You told him it scared you. You told him with tears in your eyes, a shaky voice, and tight fists that you loved him so much and you couldn’t handle the thought of one day learning you were found dead in some ditch. 

It was in that moment that Nathan learned someone loved him, and he had no idea how to handle it.

At first he was pissed. He stormed away and for the first time you almost gave into your anger and put a hole in your wall.

But then, hours later and without a word, he came back. He pressed you to your mattress and told you he was sorry, and you believed every word.

He’d gotten just a little bitter after that entire ordeal. Finally he started answering you when you called, and along with that he stopped turning his back on you when you tried to help him. It was a hard journey to where you were now but you earned it, and you were going to keep it.

Arriving at the beach and finding a spot in front of the coast, you two sat beside each other but kept some sort of distance. You didn’t force yourself closer, knowing that at first he needed space before gradually making his way closer to you. Even though you wanted nothing more than to grab him, hold him close, you taught yourself to wait. Being patient with him was rewarding.

Thanks to the shorter days the moon was well out by the time he started scooting closer to you. The stars were beautiful, as was the ocean, and feeling his fingers tentatively tug at your arms made it all the better. He found a spot right behind you, holding your back to his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist. He would only cuddle you in the dark but that was okay, you’d accept it. However, outside in the cold, you forgot to stop yourself from shivering when a gust of wind cut through you. Without a word Nathan pulled back for a moment and you sighed knowingly, already about to argue with him to keep his jacket on, but he took it off too quickly and shoved it over the top of your shoulders like a makeshift blanket.

“And they say romance is dead.” You mumbled to yourself in defeat, slumping your shoulders but tugging it closer to you nonetheless. Finally you stopped shivering.

“Be quiet,” He breathed, finding his way back against you. “Are you warm enough?”

A smile found it’s way to your lips. If you ever happened to tell anyone that Nathan, the dangerous, asshole-rich-kid gave you the jacket off his back, affectionately asking if you were warm enough, they’d laugh at you. Even you yourself would have been shaking your head in disbelief at the scene, but now you’d learned enough about him to know that even though he was an asshole he still had some good in him. It all came back around to people not knowing who he truly was, but you stopped yourself from thinking about it all before you got angry again. Right now you were safe with Nathan, and so you were more than content.

“Are you feeling better?” you asked softly. Nathan shrugged behind you, and you bit at your cheek, daring to take a leap. “You know.. You shouldn’t care what he thinks.”

Nathan bristled against you and you almost groaned at your own stupidity. Way to ruin a nice moment.

“I don't.” He managed quietly, but you knew better.

“Nathan I’m serious. If he doesn’t care enough to get to know you then you shouldn’t care enough t-”

“I said I don’t fucking care what he thinks.” He snapped, and you went silent. You heard him give a deep breath before speaking, quieter this time, taking the time to sound calmer. “I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You watched the moon. “What changed your mind?”

His chin rested atop your head, and when no answer came you smiled.

When his anger subsided Nathan was always a tired soul. In the heat of the moment he had enough power to bend the world around him it felt like, and despite knowing him you sometimes feared you would get in the crossfires of his meltdowns. But, it never stopped you. You’d step right into his hurricane, mollify him, ease him into a softer state of mind. It took so much out of him mentally and physically, and often when his fire faded from the edges you could see how burnt out he was. He was a melting candle that hid behind an impressive flame, and in order to stop him from completely falling to pieces you had to douse it.

This, sitting with him at the beach as though it was summer all over again, is how you doused him. The sand was soft beneath your legs, fingers drifting through the particles that fell atop one another. Neither of you cared that sand would be stuck in your clothes for the rest of the evening. Sitting with him, watching the stars and the slowly pulling tide... Sand didn’t matter. 

You looked out to the dark horizon, finding where the water met the sky. Under the moonlight, resting atop buoys, you noticed two ducks perched side by side. You smiled.

“Those birds,.” You started, blinking slowly at the scene in front of you, “They’re us.”

Nathan breathed a laugh and you imagined him rolling his eyes. “Shut up.” He said.

“Wouldn’t it be nice, though?” You ran your fingers through the sand again, sighing. “Not having to worry about anything, just kinda relaxing together.”

For a moment Nathan was quiet, then he spoke again. “Remember what you said, the whole ‘we could run away after Blackwell’ thing?”

His voice was strangely fragile and you swallowed, nodding. “Yeah?”

There was another pause.

“Let’s do it.”

You didn’t turn to look up at him, staring forward at the seemingly endless ocean. In the silence his arms came to wrap tighter around you, squeezing you to him, and you felt your heart pick up. You were so entirely afraid, your stomach was churning, anxiety holding you tight. But, your fingers came up, held gently on his bony arms. Everything seemed to come to a stop, as if the world had ceased turning. The coast didn’t even seem to be moving anymore. The entire world teetered on the edge, waiting for your fateful answer, but Nathan already knew what it was. You said it anyways.

“Okay.”

Beneath the moonlight, the ducks flew away.

[nitelotus]

Jingle, Tingle (Hiroshi Kirisawa Birthday fic) (Mature)

Characters: Jazz ( @hifftn) and Hiroshi Kirisawa (MPD: CTY), MPD CTY 2nd Unit

Warnings: Mature (implied smut)

Author’s notes: This was originally written for Hiroshi’s birthday on April 1st. That passed and I thought I could get this out by Jazz’s birthday. So that failed too. But with wine and awesome advice from my smut Queen, this angsty author released her first smut. Woohoo! This fic has not been beta read. It’s not as explicit but not for anyone under 18. Of course, comments, likes and reblogs are always welcomed! Enjoy!

Hiroshi Kirisawa was in a foul mood.

He usually wasn’t a person that easily get upset but it seem like this day of all days was erased from everybody else’s memories.

Today was his birthday but no one seem to remember.

“Hey boss, why the long…” Tennoji started.

Hiroshi gave him a sharp glare, so uncharacteristic of him that the teasing words died out of Tennoji’s lips. The atmosphere at the office was busy but none of the easy camaraderie that 2nd Unit naturally exuded.

He took another quick glance at the cellphone on his desk. Nothing. No call. No text. Nothing from her at all. Or from anyone.

“So what’s so important that you kept glancing at your phone?” another teasing voice intruded. Nomura stood before his desk with that usual grin. “Expecting someone to call you?”

The cellphone was quickly gathered and put into his desk drawer. The sound of the drawer slamming closed was heard throughout the room.

“Um..I got some criminals to…” Tennoji started as he rose up from his seat.

“There’s that case that Asano and I…” Hanai and Asano rose from their seat as well as they followed Tennoji out.

“Well, this research are not going to do themselves,” Kyobashi said as an excuse as he dragged a confused Eiki that just got into the room but suddenly out again with him.

All was left was Nomura and Kirisawa in the squad room. Hiroshi gave out a sigh. He wasn’t really that big on his birthday. Because of the start of the hanami season fell every year on his birthday, they were already very busy with intoxicated salary men that take partying too far. It all changed when he met this lady called Jazz. For the past two years, she would prepare either a surprise breakfast or a home cooked dinner for him. He could still remember that special ride they took after that one birthday dinner.

But today, nothing.

He expected at least a kiss this morning. He’d even considered coming in late with the hope of some morning nookie. Jazz always woke him up at midnight, excited to be the first one to greet him happy birthday. She was often considerate to go so far as sending his mother a bouquet of flowers as thanks for giving birth to him. Today, she acted like it was a normal day. Light breakfast, prepared him lunch, a quick kiss to his cheek as she hurried of to her work in the events agency that she co-managed. Maybe she was just busy? Jazz was always so good at her job that the projects came in succession.

“Sighing on your birthday just ages you, you know?” Nomura intruded on his thought.

Great. He was the first one to greet him. Well, better than no one, Hiroshi consoled himself. “Thanks,” then apparently surprised that his team was gone. “Well, if it helps my team to be this productive, then maybe I should sigh all the time,” he casually joked.

“I would have given you your favorite pack of smokes but I know Jazz wants you to quit. Healthier living, longer life or something, she said,” Nomura supplied. “I do have another present for you. It’s about our Pied Piper case..”

With just those words, the two men were back to work.

Hiroshi really did not want to go out with Nomura. He was tired. His head ached. He really, really craved a cigarette. The case got on his nerves with kids just disappearing around the neighborhood. On top of that, Jazz texted him that she’ll be at work late due to another event that didn’t go so well. There were leftovers from their dinner last night that he could probably eat.

“Just one drink, man. That’s all I could ask. My treat,” Nomura insisted. He rarely treated Hiroshi out. It was always him who covered the drinks when they go to Station. It was probably to another one of those ‘dates’. If it was, Hiroshi definitely did not want to add to his lousy day by getting shouted at by Jazz for indulging Nomura. He’d leave as soon as there were any sign of women.

“Alright one drink,” Hiroshi put up one finger for emphasis. “And if this is another ploy to even up your numbers for one of your get together, I am out, ya hear?”

Nomura nodded his head and they were off to Station.

For a weeknight, the place was awfully packed. Who were these people that suddenly came out of the wood work on the same night they wanted to drink? Hiroshi instantly regretted coming with Nomura. Nomura waved a hand at Agase, Station’s bartender as they made way to a table in front of a clearing. The tables were set up weirdly tonight. There was an open space in the middle as if something was going on. Still, it was a bit too noisy for his liking. He wanted to relax, not get all riled up.

“Maybe I should get going….” Hiroshi started to rise up as soon as he almost sat down on his seat.

Both of Nomura’s hands were on his shoulder as he gently pressed Hiroshi down onto his seat. “I promised you at least one drink. Let me get you that. Your favorite beer, right?” He was already gone even before Hiroshi said yes.

Another sigh. Too many in this one day. Hiroshi massaged his temples. At least there was some edamame to chew on. Nomura sometimes get sidetracked by a lady in a skirt. The drink might not come for awhile. He promised he’d wait at least five minutes and if he wasn’t back, he’d be out of here. The minutes passed and there was no sign of Nomura with their drinks. Another disappointment added to his special day. Maybe he could pick up some beer on his way home. That way he can still salvage his birthday. Tossing the last edamame, Hiroshi dusted his slacks.

Suddenly, the noise of the conversation lulled and quieted down. The lights also dimmed. Disoriented by the change in his surroundings, this forced him to sit back down. What was going on?

Beats came out of the speakers, melodic and hypnotic. It started out real slow. As slow as the languid steps of a woman that emerged from somewhere behind him. Hiroshi knew that someone came because of the jingle of bells that accompanied the beats and the step of the person. It reminded him one of those Arabian documentary that he saw with Jazz a month ago. A touch ghosted over his shoulders. When he tried to take a look, a flurry of chiffon dominated his view. It was a visage of warm suns and heated nights. Hues of red and orange passed by as a woman swirled by in a sea of chiffon and silk. But this was no stranger to him. No, this was a woman that he knew. A woman that he had been very intimate with.

His own desert harem queen. Jazz!

A transparent cloth covered her face but left only her eyes unmasked. Her eyes were kohled which gave a stark contrast to the color of her eyes. It was smiling and mysterious at the same time. Jazz had a bra top that glittered with diamond sequins while her middle part was bare. Her bottom was of a gauzy and flowing skirt that made her legs able to freely move. Her wrists had leather golden cuffs on both. Her ankles both had anklets of silver beads that gave off the tinkling sound. Her waist was adorned with a gold belt that had more bells that jingled. Her golden tresses were piled on top of her hair in braids. Her hips and arms swayed and jutted to each pulsating beat. A reminder when his own palms held her hips in another sensual, more private dance. Something else in him moved to the sway of her hips.

She beckoned and enticed, engaged and withdrew as she moved from one table to the next.

It just came to his attention that his girlfriend was dancing a provocative dance in front of strangers. Hiroshi wasn’t the type to be jealous but this was his fiance that they were ogling at. Including Kyobashi that sat in one of those tables. He almost got out of his seat to pull Jazz away when Nomura came back, both of his hands on his shoulders. Nomura pushed him back down to his chair. He leaned closed to Hiroshi’s ear from behind since it was hard to talk when the music was loud.

“Don’t spoil this for her. She planned this. Jazz wanted to dance for you. And you know, she’d only do this for you.” It was almost like a reassurance from his friend to him. There was nothing to be jealous about. Jazz was his and his alone.

The song was almost at the end. His queen sauntered all in grace and beauty. For a second, he imagined her as a lithe panther about to devour its prey. What she did though completely threw him off in surprise. Jazz circled his chair, her hips rolling in a hurried speed. She stopped in front of him with her back to him. He almost could not stop himself from reaching out.

Almost.

As the the song climbed to its climax, she started to bend back. Her upper torso bent half way from her waist. She kept her gaze entirely on him as she did this.

Hiroshi almost did not dare breathe.

As the song climaxed and finished, Jazz found herself bent from the waist up. Her face was directly in line with his. The noise, the cheer, the clapping, the sounds, the place - all of this disappeared when she stopped. Without question and hesitation, Hiroshi dropped a soft kiss on her lips. They were warm and soft. Was that passion fruit he tasted on her lips? His. All his. It must have been a few seconds but the kiss felt like an eternity.

One of her hands landed on his cheek, a silent urge to let her up. They were in a public place after all. Jazz wasn’t shy about showing public affection but this was a bit unnatural. Plus, she couldn’t maintain that posture for a long time.

As he finally released her, another cheer went up into the crowd. Jazz stood up and Hiroshi rose from his seat as well. She was breathless as her chest heaved in exertion. Was it from the dance or their kiss? Hiroshi wanted to find out. Jazz wanted to ask for his opinion but without a word, he dragged her from the floor towards the back area of Station.

Nomura grinned and could not help ask as they both passed him, “Where are you two going? The party’s just…”

“She needs to change. We’ll be right back,” was Hiroshi’s curt reply.

His friend raised an eyebrow but said no more.

“Hiroshi...where are we..” Jazz started to ask. Apparently Hiroshi knew his way inside Station that he found the small back room where she changed earlier that night for the dance. For a couple of weeks, she’d focus on learning the dance steps. She hated lying to Hiroshi for not being able to be home in time but it was the only way to do it. She also understood that however a good detective he was, Hiroshi would never snoop on her. She attempted to explain but what she got was something else.

Hiroshi slammed the door behind him, grabbed both of her arms, turned around so she was pressed against the door and pressed his lips hungrily against hers. She tasted like warm sunshine and exotic dates. He nipped at her lower lip until he gained entry with his tongue. Her moans only spurned him on. He was never this hungry for her before. But seeing her almost half naked and dancing triggered a primal urge to mark her, make her his even when she already was. Feeling her hands dig into his shoulder meant she was on board with him. He pressed his hips against hers. Her thrust only encouraged his hardening member. Reluctantly, his lips left hers, travelled along her jaw, to her neck towards her left ear. His hands released her arms only to encircle her lower back until he cupped both her ass. He gave a squeez that solicited an excited yelp from her. He nibbled her ear softly.

“Did you know how I felt as you shook her hips out there? How each men gazed and fantasized about you?” He nipped as she inhaled sharply and then licked her earlobe once more. “I do love it when you dance but when you do, I want it only for me. Jealousy is not a feeling I enjoy.”

Jazz bit her lower lip. “Oh? Is that so? What are you going to do about it?”

Hiroshi decided not to tell her but show her. Actions speak louder than words, as they say.

Before Hiroshi could make good on that, there were two male voices headed their way. It was Nomura and Hanai.

“In here,” Hiroshi urged. He grabbed her wrist and pulled them into one of the lockers. He placed Jazz in front of him.

“Hiroshi...we can’t...hmmph!”

He clamped his hand over her mouth while the other arm went around her waist.

“Shh!”

It was that exact moment that both men showed up into the changing room. Hiroshi was a bit enraged they didn’t even bother to knock. He and Jazz tried to remain still while Hanai and Nomura called out to them. Something about blowing out the candle and a toast. While they were outside, Hiroshi realized how cramped the space was. He could smell the shampoo she used that morning. The exotic perfume that was placed beneath her ear wafted towards him. How her skin was warmth and so soft underneath his fingers. That arm around her midsection started to caress, rather than confine.

Jazz could not utter one word but held her moans as her lover’s fingers loosened around her stomach and traveled even lower to the waistband of her skirt. Was it circles or patterns that he drew oh so light on her skin? One of his fingers even traced her bellybutton. This made her press her bottom against the front of his slacks. His hard erection pressed so insistently against hers. This motion made her small bells jingle.

They both stopped moving and breathing.

“What was that?” Hanai asked.

Nomura smiled knowingly. “Nothing. Both of them might be outside by now. Let’s go.”

Hanai went out but Nomura paused directly outside the locker where he heard the noise. He knocked once against the metal frame.

They both jumped in surprise but kept quiet.

“We’re giving you 15 minutes. Then we’re coming to get you.” Then he was gone.

They both dared not speak a word until they heard the outer door click shut.

“What 15 minutes?” Jazz asked in confusion as Hiroshi’s hand fell from her mouth.

Hiroshi moaned as her sudden movement made her press more firmly against his. “I got 15 minutes to make good on my word.”

It was a flurry of movements. Panted breaths and rustle of clothing. The ripping of the foil and the suction of a moist core. It was a small space but there was no big movements. It was as basic of two people in love that wanted to be physically together. Wherever that place maybe.

“Fuck! You’re...wet but still...tight!” he praised.

“And you’re still...talking,” she countered.

The sound of skin meeting skin. Her hands braced against the locker door while he held her hips tight to him. They weren’t going anywhere until they were finished. Until their love was spent.

It only took them 10 but they needed the extra 5 minutes for the kisses.

They finally emerged from that locker in a sweaty and hot mess.

As they both tried to regain their normal breaths so they could join the group outside, she pressed her forehead against his.

“Happy birthday, Hiroshi. I love you.”

He grinned wide.

“I love you more,” he kissed her softly. 

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

[konoha-hoe]

Hello, can i can request a scenario with a prompt from the post you reblogged? "In my defense, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time" for kankuro or kiba - which one you want. Thank you!

 Okay I don’t really like this so if you want me to rewrite it I will do so gladly, but still I hope you like it :)

 Warning: Kinda graphic violence?

 “In my defense, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time!”

 Yours lungs burn and your body aches and your nose stings from the whip of the frosty air as you sprint at top speed away from the pursuing enemy. Kiba and Akamaru run alongside you, and you can’t help but feel an immense wave of guilt wash over you. It was your idea to lead the enemy away so the others could escape, and Kiba had insisted on coming with you, saying that the two of you would have much better odds taking them on together. But the odds weren’t better, it was still 16 against 2. You didn’t argue as much as you should have, you didn’t protest that he was essential to the mission’s completion, you didn’t do anything and this was all your fault.

“I’m sorry for this Kiba.” You wheeze, panic surging in your chest when you almost lose your footing but you quickly regain your balance, the adrenaline giving you a boost of speed.

“You… should be! What were you thinking, trying to sneak out by yourself?” He gasps in between breaths, Akamaru barking in agreement, and the guilt that has settled in your gut intensifies.

“Okay so maybe this is going terribly, but in my defense it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time!” You argue pointedly but cry out when a kunai lodges itself deep into your side.

“Are you okay?” Kiba asks you frantically, but you were too focused on trying to keep moving despite the pain to answer his question.

 Being a sensory type, you could sense the enemy gaining on the three of you. There were easily about sixteen shinobi on your tails. You desperately wracked your clouded brain for a plan, but the only logical ones that came to mind involved you and Kiba taking on the enemy together, and that could buy the others some time but it was almost sure suicide and you had promised yourself that no one would die on this mission. However, if you had to sacrifice yourself for your team then you would do it happily, and this seemed to be the only option at this point anyway.

Kiba seemed to have the same idea in mind though, because the two of you stop at the same time, glaring at each other fiercely.

“What are you doing?” He hisses and roughly pulls the two of you behind the cover of a patch of berry bushes.

“I was going to take on the enemy to give you time to catch up with the others and get reinforcements.” You explain quietly, trying to keep your breathing to a minimum since every movement caused the kunai to dig deeper into your body.

“That’s what I was going to do. I can handle them with my Fang Over Fang, you go meet up with the others to get your injury looked at.”

“We’ll just have to take them down together then, this wound is nothing.”” You argue stubbornly, yanking the kunai out of your flesh to try to prove a point. However, you only make matters worse because now your blood is flowing at an alarming rate and dripping from your already drenched shirt. But even if you bled out halfway through you were not going to let him take them on alone.

“Y/N you’re being ridiculous. Go and get your wound tended to, I can handle myself here.” He snaps impatiently, but the touch of his hand on your shoulder is gentle. Akamaru whimpers in agreement, nudging your bloodied hand with his nose gently.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.” You retort, tearing off your sleeve with your teeth and balling it up against your wound to stanch the bleeding.

“Whatever, fine. We should set up a trap first though, so come on.” Kiba relents reluctantly. With a sigh, he grabs your free hand and takes off into the trees, heading west of the direction you had been going in before.

You can sense that the enemy has started to realize that you two have gone off in a different direction, their chakra signatures had stopped moving. You tug on Kiba’s grip on your hand to notify him, and he nods in silent understanding, coming to a stop. You two quickly set up the best paper bomb trap you can manage before taking off again towards a clearing that was coming up ahead.

“We should take them on there. Your jutsu is at a greater advantage in open spaces.” You suggest breathlessly.

“You’re right. We should ambush them from the trees when they pass through.” Kiba agrees.

“They’ll probably be overly confident since they think they have the advantage of numbers and won’t bother being cautious, it’s a good opportunity to take them by surprise.” You add observantly, coming to a halt at the edge of the clearing. “First we’ll each make a shadow clone to draw them out into the open, then you attack first. Take out as many as you can in one shot, leave the rest to me.”

 “Y/N, you know I love you, so just please be careful, alright?” Kiba murmurs unexpectedly, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

 “I love you too, Kiba.” You reply softly, closing your eyes and savoring the feel of his warm, chapped lips against your cool skin.

 The sound of the trap you had set earlier going off forces the two of you to separate just a little too soon, but with a nod you each create your respective clones and take off in separate directions, Kiba on the left and you on the right. You lean your back against the tree, utterly exhausted from the loss of blood and stare in dismay at the already soaked through piece of fabric you had pressed against your wound.

 You pull out a handful of specially designed shuriken and they flare blue between your fingers with the infusion of your chakra. You were incredibly precise in every one of your attacks without fail. It’s what earned you the name The Shinobi that Never Misses, and your work in assassination in the Anbu helped to expand your notoriety throughout the hidden villages. A wave of confidence surges through you as the Iwagakure ninja fill into the clearing, recklessly charging with rallied cries towards the clones you had planted in the center of the field.

You weren’t going to let your comrades die. Not now, not ever.

“Fang Over Fang!” Kiba yells, and within seconds is tearing through the crowd of shinobi with ease.

“It’s an ambush, retreat!” Someone yells, but you weren’t going to let them escape now.

Taking advantage of the confusion, you leap from your hiding place in the trees and release four shuriken from your left hand, all of them finding their targets in the throats of the enemy. Still midair you quickly pull out three more to take care of those trying to escape, and their gurgled cries of shock and pain rip into the night air. You land in a battle stance beside Kiba, wincing visibly. He was facing off against the last three survivors, all of them nursing some sort of injury, with Akamaru lowered in a protective stance in front of him, hackles raised and snarling viciously. The others either lay on the ground immobilized or are already dead, seven of them being courtesy of you and the other six a result of Kiba’s handiwork.

“You killed my brother and my comrades, I’ll never forgive you!” A relatively young man, a newly fledged genin most likely, roars and charges at you in a blind rage despite his friends’ protests, kunai poised and ready to strike. However, with the casual flick of your wrist a shuriken to the jugular shuts him right up. Blood spurts from the wound and he instinctively reaches up to his throat in vain before his eyes roll back and he falls in a crumpled heap at your feet. Dead.

You feel bad for it, of course. You always did whenever you had to take a life, but it was something that you knew you would have to do ever since you had been first accepted into the academy. People die for the sake of their villages, and you were no different.

“You monster!” One of the remaining two snarls and tries to leap forward, but is held back by his comrade.

“Akimitsu, stop. We’ll retreat for now.” The only sensible one of the three, an older man with graying hair and a permanently worried expression, says quietly before disappearing. The one itching to attack sends you one last ferocious glare before following suit, and the two of you are finally alone.

“We did it.” Kiba breathes out in relief, his tense body finally relaxing.

“Yeah, we did…” You trail off before the world starts to dim, and the whoosh of air around you as you begin to fall and Kiba calling your name frantically are the last things you’re conscious of before being pulled into darkness.

[znationfanfiction]

New Orleans, Pt. 2

Chapter four of my fanfic!! I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it. Feel free to message me and reblog it!! (Just no stealing it please). Trigger Warnings: panic attack, some violence, a make-out scene (I'm a thirsty bitch, what can I say?), mature language. ------------------- "Alright, well it seems like we still have a little time before that zunami gets to us, so we'll split up and look for supplies. Addy's with Doc, Murphy will go with me and Vasquez, and Tally and 10k will go together. Search stores and houses and we'll meet back here", Warren orders. "Aye-aye, cap'n", I drawl. Murphy snorts and I wink at him. 10k and I start toward some of the houses in a small neighborhood off the main street, searching for anything we can find. As we meander down the side streets, I sing quietly to myself. It's a tendency that seemed to carry over from pre-Z. I did it when I was nervous. The combination of being alone with 10k is enough to make my palms sweat and my mouth feel stuffed with cotton...add jump-scares from Zs into that mix, and you get a very nervous Tally. "Little black submarines, operator please, patch me back to my mind...", I sing quietly to myself. We go up the stairs onto a small, cramped porch. He opens the door cautiously for me, and take a deep breath before I step around it into the eerie house. "Oh , can it be, the voices calling me, they get lost and out of time", I sing as loud as I dare, trying to draw any Zs out. Two loud snarls echo through the foyer and the zombies they came from lurch from the living room at us. We each grab one and pike them. "4106", 10k murmurs, looking to me. I shrug. "Guess they didn't like my voice". He lets out a soft, short laugh at that. "Well, I think you sound amazing". Ugh, so cute and sweet and I just want him to kiss me so bad... I smile and our bodies unconsciously inch toward each other, as if they are magnetic. Becoming too aware of this, I take a step back. Whew, that was close. Too close. Don't go fucking this up, Tally. He probably doesn't even like you like that. He just doesn't have many other choices in females. Just focus. I send him a soft smile. "We should hurry up and get those supplies before we get overrun", I manage to get out. He nods, looking...disappointed? We manage to scrape up a couple gallons of water stored in old bleach containers. "Smart", nods 10k as he hoists one into his pack. Too bad the kitchen was completely empty otherwise. Someone tried to leave in a hurry, for certain. Too bad they didn't seem to get very far. "I'm gonna look for some clothes up in the bedrooms. We are starting to look pretty ratty, even for us." "I'll go with you". He throws the pack on his back and we quickly ascend the stairs, weapons ready in case we missed a particularly sneaky Z. We both huff a sigh of relief when we encounter no other zombies. "Let's check out that master bedroom, see if we can find any clothes that fit", he whispered. It's hard to break the habit of whispering to keep under the radar of anyone listening, like Zs. I nod and we walk to the bedroom, immediately going through drawers and the closet for anything practical. We hit a huge jackpot. The men's clothes seem to fit 10k pretty well, and we find some old fatigue pants in a couple different sizes. "They must have both been military", I say. A small sadness washes over me at the thought of so many lives, just snuffed out. Lost. Gone. I shake my head to clear the thoughts. We quickly change in separate rooms and meet back in the bedroom to stuff another few clothing articles in our bags. We can ditch the clothes later if we run out of room for supplies. We both dress in the fatigue pants and stuff them into our boots. I dress in a tank top that fits close to the skin so I don't get grabbed as easily, and we start to head out the door. Not paying attention is a huge mistake in the zombie apocalypse. I know that, and so does everyone else. So when I bumble out the front door and straight into a cool, rotting body, it's entirely my fault. 10k rips the Z from me, piking in the head. Yet another reason to thank God every day for 10k. I take in gasping breaths, stunned by almost being zombie food. 10k checks me for bites, hands smoothing over my arms and neck to ensure I am okay. Surprising us both, I grab his face and plant a big kiss right on his cheek. Oooh fuck. What did you just do, you absolute DUMBASS?! You've gone and screwed up everything! "I-I'm sorry...just, thank you so much for saving me. What a dumbass mistake to make, just waltzing out the door like that...", I stammer out as I try to fix this whole awkward mess of a situation. The look on his bright red face worries me, so when he breaks into a grin, my heart finally starts beating again. "No, it's...it's okay. We watch out for each other. It's what we all do", he says, hesitantly taking my hand in his own. This time, it's not either of us that stops the moment. It's a huge wall of zombies coming right for us. We run around the back of the house, looking for some sort of shelter. My foot catches something raised in the backyard, and 10k is just turning back to help me up when I realize that my clumsy ass just tripped over a cellar door. We both throw the doors open and hop down inside. He shuts the doors again and slides a metal pipe through the inside handles. "Shit. The group's gonna be so worried. Shit", I fret, pacing our small space before realizing that we are surrounded by a small amount of supplies. Cans, more bleach containers, and jars of food sit on shelves around us and I nearly burst into tears. Fucking jackpot. I do a small celebration dance while 10k looks on at me in amusement. He's much more observant than I am, and noticed the supplies as soon as we hopped down. "What now?", I ask, watching as he sits against a bare wall and makes himself comfortable. "We wait it out. The group's probably hiding somewhere too". ------------------------ The first 10 minutes of silence in the cellar aside from the occasional scuffle or grunt of a zombie is unbearable to me because I become so anxious. My chest tightens up and I feel as if I can't get enough air in my lungs. I feel trapped and horrified at the thought of the zombies busting down the doors and eating us alive. So helpless. 10k notices my shallow, strained breaths and scoots over to sit by me. He hesitantly grabs my hand and squeezes it, then moves close to murmur comforting words to me. Slowly, my chest untightens and I can breathe again. I look up to his face to thank him, grateful that he helped me through the panic, to find his eyes on me. His face is just inches from mine, and the proximity has my pulse hammering. I've noticed him watching me a lot when we are with the group, and I always get so self-conscious because I'm worried he's thinking about how strange I am or how bad I look with my curls frizzed and sticking up at all angles from my braid. But...the way he is looking at me now sets a fire loose deep in my chest. He starts to lean in closer and my eyes widen as his hand comes up to touch the back of my neck. Suddenly, our lips are pressed together. A whole horde of rabid Zs are set free in my chest, and my hands come up to grasp his collar, my body finally breaking from the shocked state and responding to him. His lips are soft and the kiss is everything a first kiss should be. His breath is sweet as it mixes with my own. We both pant as the gentle kiss turns hungry, desperate. 10k tightens his grip on me and his hands slide down my shoulders to my lower back, pulling me flush against his body. Tongues explore mouths and teeth knock together slightly. A noise I've never heard come from myself escapes my throat, like a noise a wild animal would make, and he responds with his own deep groan. The kiss slows after a while and we pull back to look at each other, still panting and both very red. A smile lights up his face in a way I've never seen on him, and I can't help but respond with my own. "I've wanted to do that forever", he mutters, "but I was always afraid to mess up us being friends". "Me too", I chuckle. His face turns slightly more serious. "That was a-actually my first...", he trails off. His first kiss? Him? But he's so perfect and cute and who wouldn't want to kiss him?? "Well", I grin, "I guess we will just have to do that some more to practice". I wink at him and he laughs, bringing my lips back to his own.

[drferox]

20 questions with Dr Ferox #3

It’s that time of the week again where I desperately try to churn through a chunk of questions in the vain hope of shrinking my inbox. I will attempt to tag you in your question, but you know what tumblr is like, however if you asked on Anonymous you’ll just have to scroll through to see f your question is here. There’s also a cool cat picture. In no particular order...

@a-floral-ghost asked: What is parvo? I know it's a disease(?) That puppies get but I don't actually know what it is

Parvo in this contest refers to canine parvovirus, a horrendous disease of dogs which is very persistent in the environment but generally well prevented by vaccination. You can read more about it here.

Anonymous asked: Do dogs need to be bathed? I live in a rural area so a lot of people here only give a dog a bath when it's gotten in to something? Is bathing frequently vs infrequently vs never a big issue? 

Unless you are targeting a particular skin condition and using a medicated or therapeutic shampoo, most dogs don’t require a bath more than once a week, however many will go months or years without a bath with no problem. Grooming should still be done, because long coats can matt very easily and cause pain, but it’s not strictly necessary that every dog receive a regular bath.

Another Anonymous asked: Why do dogs shake/tap their feet when you scratch them in the right spot

Generally it’s a reflex. However if you already have itchy skin (often infected) and you start rubbing, you make the itch worse and the dog is compelled to scratch.

Yet another anonymous asked: We have an almost two year old female great dane (just over 1 year and 8 months) who is on the small side. She only weighs about 125 pounds and stands about 3 feet at the shoulder. She is my moms pride and joy but she refuses to get her spayed until she is 3 years old. I've read varying info about spaying giant breeds too early or too late. What is the general age a smallish Dane should be fixed? We have never had a giant breed before. Question tax, came for the stories, stayed for the knowlage

While I won’t give specific advice about any animal I cannot examine, at 3 years of age there will be no protective benefit for mammary cancer, though it will still prevent pyometra. Generally for a large, short-lived breed I would spay around skeletal maturity. There is a discussion here, and many of the reblogs are worth reading too.

@ happinessisnotalwaysfun said: It's ferret shed season! Ferrets don't cough up hairballs, and they can kill or cause big bills; but they still lick a lot due to discomfort. Ferretblr has lots of theory methods for helping - vaseline, pumpkin, raw egg, fish oil, ferretone - but no evidence. Is there a best way to help my catweasel digest fur safely? Any evidence, or suggestions?

I would generally use a feline laxative, but raw egg, fish oil and ferretone are probably not doing any harm. There’s not a lot written about this in ferret textbooks, but it does not get as cold down here so perhaps our ferrets are less fluffy. I would avoid vaseline because I generally avoid oil based products for animals, and I would avoid pumpkin because I don’t want to add that much fiber to the short gut of a possessed sock puppet ferret.

@taskmaking asked: I love your blog! I came here because of fantasy biology, stayed for everything else. I have a cockatiel who's pretty old (19ish) and he's flightless and blind apart from light/shadow. It's hard to get him to step up because he thinks your hand is attacking him. Is there anything I could do to make that easier on him?

Bird are not really my forte. Perhaps coupling the step up request with a sound or texture that he cal learn to associate with safety? Being blind is tough on a prey species.

@perryloveslamps said: Not sure what a question tax is but love your blog.   So my Doberman/Rat Terrier has 7-9 small 2cm fat polyps that we've had examined by our vet as soon as we find a new one and they always turn out to be fatty lumps. Now this YT Channel I watch (VetRanch) removed a small lump the same size within days of finding it because the Vet "Doesn't like lumps on Boxers."  Are different breeds more prone to fat polyps rather than cysts or tumors and visa versa? Thanks so much! 

Boxers are colloquially known in the veterinary community as ‘cancer factories’. They just get cancer very easily and very young. In particular they often get Mast Cell Tumors, which are sneaky bastards that can look like anything, and can easily be mistaken for a benign cyst or lipoma. The paranoia is sometimes too much to bear, so it’s not unreasonable to remove every vaguely suspicious lump of a boxer when they’re on the younger side and still have a good heart.

Anonymous asked: if it were at all possible, would you ever treat or study coywolves?

Sure, possibly, if the opportunity presented itself. But they are on the other side of the world and I’d rather be involved in species closer to home, like our own dingo, bilbies, whale sharks, tassie devils or (if one dares to dream) resurrected thylacines.

Anonymous asked: What's your personal opinion on big poodles? Not from a vet point, just what do you think of them? 

How very glad I am that you haven’t asked for a veterinary opinion when i have already answered that question.

Generally I think they’re treated a bit too much like toys and not allowed to be dogs by certain owners, particularly the smaller ones that are easier to carry everywhere. Which is a shame because there’s a real, proper dog under all that frou frou if you avoid turning it into a nervous wreck.

A presumably different Anonymous asked: i've wanted to be a vet since before i knew the word but it wasn't until a few years ago that i really fully grasped what it meant. i got into the aquarist hobby several years ago, and two moments really solidified my career choice. The first was when one of my fish fell ill and after a round of treatment, was entirely better. the second was when i tried everything i could think of to save a betta i had and it died anyways. it was horrible, i cried for hours, but i realized: i want this life.

Sorry about your little fish friends. I kept a lot of bettas when I was in  high school, they’re certainly addictive and do have personality. For a while I considered moving somewhere tropical to save on heating costs so I could keep more.

Anonymous said: Me and my aunt both have maltese dogs, but they're very different. Ours is a very sturdy boy with thick legs and a body built vaguely like a lhasa, he's somewhere around 6kg. Hers has a very different structure, she is much smaller (around half his weight I think) and lankier, with a very long, thin muzzle. It actually kinda looks like the differences you'd see between the different Poodles, so I was wondering, are there different breeds of Maltese too, or could one of our pups be a mix? 

I can only hazard a guess, but I suspect one or both dogs are probably a mix, and I would suspect the larger one. Lots of dogs that are small and fluffy enough just get sold as ‘maltese’ through pet stores because that’s popular.

@ sketchywyvern said: What is your favorite fur color/ pattern on cats?

While it’s hard to beat a bold mackerel tabby, I’m finding the karpati pattern particularly interesting lately.

@2goldensnitches said: Dr have you had to treat budgies before? Mine like it when I give them spinach, kale and clover to eat but are very picky about accepting pellets instead of seed, and they refuse to try fruit at all. I hope it doesn't mean that they'll get future health/dietary problems

It’s very rare for me to see a budgie in normal hours because there’s a clinic with a better bird set up nearby, and most people are unwilling to pay the after hours fee for a budgie. They are likely getting enough vitamins from the green leafy vegetables so I wouldn’t worry about the fruit, and as long as they are eating the pellets and not starving themselves I wouldn’t stress too much.

Anonymous (Anonymouse?) asked: Can pet mice get rabies vaccines? Even if they're of questionable origin, would it even be necessary?             

It would be off label use and potentially ineffective. I don’t know of any documented mouse rabies infection that occurred naturally, though I understand it can occur in laboratory conditions. To catch rabies a mammal basically needs to be bitten by an infected animal and survive the bite. The odds of a mouse receiving a deep enough puncture wound and surviving long enough to catch rabies is fairly low.

@badgerface890 asked: Would tail docking fix a dog's problem with obsessive tail chasing? Or would the fixate on the stump or something else?

Depends why the dog is obsessively tail chasing, and I can’t comment specifically on an animal I cannot examine. They may fixate on the stump, they may not be chasing the tail, just running in circles, or there may be a painful neuroma in the tail causing the behavior. There may also be a brain abnormality responsible for the behavior, or a genuine obsessive disorder that would be better treated with medication.

Anonymous asked: I know your opinion about overbred dogs (e.g. pugs and apple-headed chihuahuas), but what about cats? Munchkin cats look incredibly cute, but I can't help but think they have to have some serious joint problems. Is feline selective breeding as problematic as it is with dogs, or it doesn't really affect their quality of life as much?

Anonymous friend, i would dearly like to refer you to the search function of this website. You can even search for munchkin cat to see if this has already been discussed. 

Anonymous asked: Hello! I have recently gotten into the habit of feeding the crows that roost near my home ( they seem to thrive well on the dog food mixed with raw chicken egg and sides of fruit I give them) , and I was wondering if there was any advice you could give me to make sure I am feeding them good foods? Thank you!

I’m not sure which country you’re in, but Australian Ravens are the most common ‘crow’ here, and they are mostly carnivorous. Feeding dog food is probably not that bad a balance. Lots of people feed cheap beef mince which is too fatty and deficient in vitamins, causing nutrient deficiency in young birds. You can reduce this by using a low fat mince and mixing it with a insectivore bird rearing mix.

However, it’s generally inadvisable to feed wildlife as it makes them dependent on human support for survival and will change both their behavior and the local ecology. If you’re going to do it anyway I’d rather they be fed something that’s good for them, but question why you feel that wild animals need to be fed in the first place.

@reachyourlimit said: Have you ever encountered a dog with patches of ingrown hairs? My dog has 2 symmetrical patches ~2cm diameter on either side of her tail on her pelvis(?), they've been there for a long time, yet she doesn't care one bit about them. She's been to the vet for them, all she told us to do was keep them clean like I would for ingrown hairs on myself until they finally break the skin, but she'd never seen it before, she even took pictures to show other vets at the clinic later (question tax to come)            

They’re reasonably common on the feet, between the toes, of prickly coated dogs like staffordshire bull terriers and shar peis. They can get infected and be uncomfortable, but sometimes don’t bother the dogs at all. It’s odd to have symmetrical patches in a place where the skin isn’t rubbed a lot. It might be dysplasia (which is pretty harmless) instead of ingrown hairs, but if they’re not malignant, not a symptom of metabolic disease and not bothering the dog then it’s of low concern.

@ seriouslyy asked: Do you have any child/puppy behavior resources? A friend's uncle just got a new puppy, and their 6 year old is loving the puppy, chasing her, carrying her around, feeding her treats, and the parents just keep saying "aww look the puppy loves her" when she is clearly stressed and just bit the child. The child is rather spoiled (personal opinion) and the parents are just so excited their daughter is happy, and won't listen to my friend. So i'm hoping outside sources would help them understand.

Hmm, there’s not really a website I tend to refer people to. I usually have handouts in the clinic. ABC’s Catalyst program had some decent videos about understanding dog behaviour that are easy to understand, and you might want to ask @why-animals-do-the-thing for a list of resources. The last think anyone wants is a kid getting bitten.

And finally another Anonymous asked: Do you enjoy running this blog? I was looking at some of your super old post and feel kind of bad that this was supposed to be an escape but kind of became your job.

I have spend a long time avoiding answering this question because I wasn’t totally sure of the answer. I enjoy some parts of this blog, the interesting questions and discussions it generates. I love it when something is drawn based on something I wrote, whether it’s a throwaway comment or a story or a fantasy biology creature.

But I don’t like being treated like a personal Google. I don’t mind clarifying an answer, or discussing a complex topic, but when a question could have very easily been answered b a single, quick Google search it just feel a little...disrespectful I guess. I spend a lot of time on this blog. I’m not keeping up with the questions I get already. I spend even more time in my jobs and I would really, really like to get back to more fiction writing in addition to all the other life stuff I’ve got going on, so it’s really difficult not to be snarky at some of these questions.

But I do like the community. I like what gets created. So I take the good along with the bad.

I adore my Patreon supporters, but this blog doesn’t pay anything like my real jobs. If it did then I could afford to work a few days less per month to write more.

[jakeander11]

OK, so this is a little different from my normal reblogs, but I‘m curious. I know I only have like, nine followers, but if any of you folks would want to read a beginning excerpt from the novel Im writing and perhaps message me with feedback, that would be kind of cool. Or, this will just fade into the aether, either way works. Anyway, here it is:

Gareth brushed sweat from his eyes, and tucked some damp, sandy curls behind his ear. The sun beat down from the cloudless sky, baking the streets of Greyport beneath it. Gareth shifted slightly, and felt another line of sweat run down his back beneath his yellow doublet. The slight ocean breeze coming in off the harbor only served to move the hot, humid air around, instead of cooling anyone down. It was not an ideal day to stand around and sing to crowds, but that was Gareth's role today.

He was standing on the raised edge of the white marble fountain in the center of the market district. The fountain was old, and much of the intricate carvings that adorned the sides had become soft and blurred from the wear of time, but the carved dolphin that formed the central spout was still easily identified.

The fountain’s lip was a good three feet off the ground, which would have given most street performers a commanding stage above the milling bodies of the market. Gareth, who stood a mere three-foot-two, was only placed a mere head’s height above the small crowd of market goers that had stopped to listen to the peculiar halfling in the brightly-colored clothing.

He hit the last note of his song, and allowed the final chord to carry into the air for a moment before he silenced the strings of his lute. The small crowd gave a slightly better than polite round of applause, and a few even whistled. Gareth smiled. It was always nice to have his talents appreciated. He wiped the back of his neck and smiled at the crowd. Gareth may not have been allowed to call himself a real bard, but he had been trained by one, and could perform as well as any of the official members of the guild.

"Thank you, my friends, thank you!” He bowed at the waist with a flourish of his free hand. Dirk frequently accused him of being unnecessarily dramatic, but as Gareth always thought, why not add a little flair to things when he could?

"Now, my throat is getting a bit sore, and it’s rather hot out, so my next song will be my last. I hope you enjoy it. Before I begin, however, I have a request to make. This is, after all, how I make my living.”

Which was more or less true, from a certain perspective.

"If you’ve been entertained here today, please consider making a small contribution, if only a few coins. After all, where else will you spend your copper sheaves, silver acorns, or even, dare I suggest, gold crowns today? Will you buy a cheap meat pie stuffed with gods know what beasts? A flimsy wind-up dragon that will break the very second you get home? Perhaps a ‘genuine’ elvish necklace made of tin, glass, and lies? No. I am your best spending option, and I thank you for it,” Gareth said.

As he spoke, he swept the faded yellow hat off his head and tossed it onto the cobblestones below his perch. It landed with a puff of dust, and Gareth launched into a spirited rendition of the Ballad of the Rose and the Thorn. It was a well known tale, filled with love and loss, betrayal and revenge. Gareth's old master had said it was the ballad that he could perform the best, and the earnings of previous performances had proved that statement correct. Gareth hoped that this audience would also consider it worth loosening their purse strings for.

He needn’t have worried. As he sang, he saw many of the people in the crowd pull out their purses and come forward to drop a coin or two into his hat, which quickly filled with a modest pile of coins.

Gareth glanced down, and saw that most of the coins were copper sheaves, with a couple silver eagles glinting amongst them. Cheap bastards, Gareth thought. From the amount of silk and velvet draping the bodies in the crowd, he had expected more silver, and perhaps even a gold crown or two.

From his vantage point on top of the fountain, Gareth could see the edges of the square relatively clearly. As he sang, a form slipped out of the darkened alley across the square. Dirk was right on time.

Dirk was a wiry man somewhere between twenty and thirty five years of age, as far as Gareth could tell. He was only of middling height, perhaps a few inches short of six feet tall, with dark hair and calculating eyes. He could be considered handsome, in a dangerous, disheveled sort of way. Usually, he maintained a few days worth of stubble over his sharp-edged features, and his face often sported some form of a mocking smirk. His regular choice of clothing was almost exclusively dark grays and blacks.

Today, however, Dirk was dressed in what he referred to as his “hunting clothes”. He’d disguised himself as a member of the prosperous merchant class, and Gareth barely recognized his partner.

Dirk's hair had been combed back and tied with a red silk ribbon into a tidy ponytail at the base of his neck, and was freshly clean shaven. He wore a crimson doublet embroidered in gold thread over a white silk shirt, and his black velvet breeches were tucked into shining leather boots. In short, he looked about as far from a thief as a civilian could be.

Which, of course, was the point. As he liked to say whenever Gareth asked him about his fancy clothes, "After you’ve mastered the skills, the most successful pickpockets are always the ones that don’t look the way thieves are expected to look. "

Dirk slipped into the crowd and began to slowly wind his way through it. He carefully chose a route that brought him near the most wealthy of the crowd, and he happened to bump into most of them as he gently pushed his way past. The men and women didn’t give him a second glance. None of them suspected that the purses and pouches they had just taken out to throw a coin or two into Gareth's hat were no longer on their person.

As Gareth sang, he watched the crowd closely, and kept an eye out for guards. After a while, he noticed a man on the edges of the small crowd that seemed to be watching Dirk.

He was a small man, dressed in the same undyed linen and wool clothing as many of the poorer shoppers in the square, with a dull brown cloak loosely draped over his shoulders. His brownish hair was cropped close to his head, and he had a short beard of the same color. Overall, Gareth thought he was a man of profoundly nondescript appearance. After a moment’s thought, Gareth decided that the man reminded him of a field mouse. Gareth couldn’t quite tell, but the man seemed to be following Dirk’s progress through the crowd out of the corner of his eye.

Dirk made it to the other side of the crowd, and continued on his way down another street. A few seconds after Dirk was out of sight, the mousey man turned and left the square, and walked quickly northwards.

Gareth didn’t like the timing. He finished his song, bowed one last time to the crowd, and collected his hat. As he started to walk down the narrow streets towards the inn that he and Dirk were staying at this week, Gareth found himself thinking about the mousey man and his unnerving behavior.

He made Gareth very uncomfortable. There were only so many explanations for what he had noticed, and the only one that wasn’t bad news was that Gareth was just being paranoid, attributing meaning to nothing. Everything else suggested that the man had caught on to the scam Dirk and Gareth had set up. If the man had, and if he decided to go to the city watch, the lives of the partners were about to get far more interesting than either would ever want. Gareth mulled over the problem, and decided that he should probably bring up the mouse man with Dirk that evening. He nodded to himself, and hurried down the street towards what passed for home.

"Look at all that copper. Not bad for a whole afternoon of performing. You could almost buy half a shoe with that.”

Gareth scowled at Dirk across the wooden table, and Dirk twisted his lips into a mocking smirk.

They were sitting at a scarred wooden table, in the corner of the tavern the pair had chosen as their base in the city. The room was full of people drinking and laughing their cares away, and the air was thick with the smell of ale and pipe smoke.

Dirk had changed out of his merchant costume, and was now dressed in his usual dark clothes. He wore a sleeveless black leather jerkin over a grey, rough-spun shirt, and his grey trousers were tucked into the tops of his worn, black leather boots. Dirk's heavy leather belt was festooned with a variety of small bags and pouches, with a dagger on each hip.

In broad daylight, Dirk’s regular clothing, coupled with his overall appearance, had a tendency to make people look twice and secure their purses. Under his preferred cover of night, however, nobody saw him coming until it was far too late.

Gareth shuddered and forced his thoughts away from the memories they were heading towards. Dirk was a consummate professional, and they got along reasonably well in their partnership, but sometimes, when Gareth thought too hard, Dirk scared the living hell out of him.

“Alright, fine, yes. I know. Honest street performing isn’t about to make us rich anytime soon. You don’t need to rub it in. I’m guessing you did better?” Gareth asked.

Dirk’s smirk shifted into a gloating, self-satisfied smile, and his eyes glinted.

“Oh yes. Much better. They may have been cheap sons of whores, but they sure as hell weren’t poor.”

Dirk glanced around the crowded room, then lifted a large leather bag from where it had been sitting on the floor next to his chair and dropped it on the table. It landed with a heavy thud, and the clink of precious metals.

“Forty-seven crowns, twenty-six eagles, and seventy-nine sheaves for only eight good minutes of cutting purse strings.” Dirk sat back in his chair and crossed his arms smugly. “I love this city.”

Gareth stared at the bag on the table. This was the largest prize from their scheme that they had ever collected, by a rather wide margin.

“That’s… That’s a lot of money," Gareth said.

Dirk laughed softly. “Yes, Gareth, it is. We do this for a month, and we'll be rich.”

“Or, we get caught and spend a while in the dungeons. Or lose a hand, depending on how lenient the magistrate is feeling that day.”

Dirk’s smile soured, and he scowled at Gareth.

“We won’t get caught. Nobody in that crowd gave me a second look today," Dirk said.

“I’m not sure that that’s entirely true, actually," Gareth said.

"What?"

"Well, earlier today, when you were collecting all that," Gareth gestured at the bag of coins on the table. "I thought I saw a man watching you. I couldn't be entirely sure, but it looked like he was following your progress through the crowd, and he took off towards the citadel as soon as you left the market."

Dirk frowned.

"You're absolutely sure he was watching me?"

"I didn't say that, but it seems a little too much of a coincidence, doesn't it? Maybe we should move on again, not press our luck here tomorrow. This was a good haul today. Maybe that's enough here?"

Dirk glanced around the crowded tavern, then leaned in over the rough wooden table.

"Gareth, we made more today in this city than we've made in the last four towns combined. Think of what we could walk away with after a couple days of this! Tell me, where else are we going to do this well?" He asked.

"I don't know, Dirk, but what if they're on to us here? I like coin as much as the next guy, but I like my hands and freedom more."

Dirk sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, his face calculating. After a moment, he spoke.

“All right, Gareth. How’s this: We go back to the market tomorrow and do it again. If you see the man again, signal to me, and I can follow him down an alley and cut his throat. Problem solved.”

“Dirk!” Gareth quickly looked around the tavern, fearful that someone had heard his partner. Fortunately, the sounds of general carousing were loud enough that nobody could hear one small conversation amidst the din. He turned back to Dirk and scowled fiercely at him.

“We are not going to murder a man just because he might, perhaps, possibly be on to us. That not how this works. We’ve talked about this. Murder is never our go-to plan.”

Dirk smirked.

“Not your go-to, at least. But yes, fine, I remember the terms of our agreement. How’s this for an alternative. Remember when we were in Bansbury?”

“Yes, we nearly got caught in Bansbury. Because you wanted to try a second day. Like right now,” Gareth said peevishly.

“Exactly! But we didn’t, because you gave the signal that we have agreed on, the story about the Lucky Thief. It worked, and I got away clean. We do that again. If this mysterious gentleman was actually onto to us, and an informant, and there are extra guards in the market, tell that one. I’ll be listening, and can slip off into the shadows. If he wasn’t, we get to make a lot of money again. Fair?”

Gareth pursed his lips, but couldn’t find any particular reason to object to Dirk’s plan. They did have a signal, and after all, he wasn’t even positive that the mousey man had really been watching Dirk. It could’ve been a coincidence. Gareth looked at the bag of coins on the table. It had probably just been a coincidence. He would just keep a closer watch on the crowd, and be ready to warn Dirk.

“Yeah, alright. That’s fair. We’ll go back again tomorrow.”