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mcfanely · 4 years

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The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon

Nothing ever really stays the same. Peace doesn’t last, it is simply the absence of turmoil.

Chapter 07 - Snow Fall, 2390 words

Fishing, Cole had to admit, was relaxing. Or probably the most relaxing part of his routine recently. There was just something enjoyable about standing on the riverside, listening to the water still flowing freely below the layer of ice that was acting as a seal over the top. Back in Ninjago, back at home, he'd never really understood the appeal of it, not really. Standing still for hours on end, staying as silent as possible, Cole found those things hard to do when his life wasn't dependent on it. His foot always tapped lightly to an internal rhythm in his head, he paced sometimes if he was bored enough.

Silence, though. That was something he could do. Internally, it may have been a constant vortex of thoughts and songs and an incessant internal monologue that Cole used to keep himself occupied; with all that going on, externally, he was absolutely stone cold silent. Even his breathing was measured.

The environment seemed to reflect this too. It had been a nice day when Cole had stepped out of the cave and for that he was grateful. Snowy landscape did not necessarily mean a biting and unbearable cold. The sun still rose in the east, it bounced off the white blanket in a beautiful way and it warmed the area to a degree. The snow didn't melt and the ice didn't get any thinner, but Cole didn't have a constant chill in his bones.

Even though the sky had clouded over a bit back, Cole was still enjoying himself. Then when the snow had begun to fall in light fluffy swirls, he let out a small breath and allowed the calming silence to descend.

Zane had explained it to him once, around a year ago when Ninjago was experiencing a white Christmas. Snow had descended and the world had quieted, and Cole had turned to his friend and simply gave the observation that the world seemed to fall silent when it snowed.

Apparently, it was a thing that happened and he wasn't imagining it.

Large flakes of snow take up the sky as they fall, Zane had said, Cole remembered fondly. This means that when there is a sound, instead of it travelling straight to your or my ears, it gets interrupted by these falling flurries. He'd reached out and caught one in his hand, the flake stayed solid, in perfect condition. All because Zane ran cold.

When snow falls, the world really does become quieter. I, for one, find it calming.

It really was calming. Cole had situated himself on a low hanging branch of a tree, his leg dangling over one side and his fishing rod and line suspended over the other and in a large crevice broken into the ice by a solid stick and a few dropped rocks.

He would fish for hours, but sitting down on the ground or finding a rock to get comfortable on would be stupid. The ground sapped away warmth like it was nothing, and Cole didn't have any he was willing to risk giving away.

This was just routine, and feeling cold was always part of that. It was a constant presence now, even in the safety of the cavern where the mech was kept, where it was a slight bit warmer, it was nothing like home. Home with a heating system, working lighting, any creature comfort that Cole would never take for granted when they got back there. If they got back home at all.

It was one thing waiting for a rescue, but a whole other thing hoping for one that probably wasn't going to come any time soon. The realisation that anyone's first assumption would be that Aspheera's magic had been the end of the both of them had been hard to get his head around.

Cole was, in reality, still trying to accept it.

But it wasn't all doom and gloom. If he could be anywhere in that moment, he probably would still pick the frozen wasteland they were trapped in. If only that it provided the knowledge that Zane was okay, Cole wouldn't trade that. He liked knowing that his friend was alive, anything was better than fearing him dead.

Thinking that he'd given his life for yet another noble cause, that he was never coming back. Crouching down in the barren and frozen streets of Ninjago city with a part of Zane's facial plating held loosely in his hands, looking around and not finding him anywhere. Snow fell, everything was silent, and Zane was gone.

Cole snapped sharply back to reality when he felt some resistance on the end of his line. He reached out and grabbed the wire, situating the wooden rod between his legs so he could reel the fish in the manual way, pulling on the wire until his catch was successfully out of the water. He had the method down, this process was basically muscle memory already. The amount of fish he'd caught over the past week or so was more than he'd ever thought he'd need to catch in his lifetime.

Maybe he was getting tired of the mundane and repetitive action of catching the fish, scaling and slicing them up using a dagger that was made for combat and definitely not Cole's first choice of weapon in battle, using the blowtorch they had sparingly since that fuel wasn't going to last forever to heat it up just a little and hopefully kill off any bacteria. Rinse and repeat. Daily.

Well, better to be bored of fish but have something to eat than have nothing and starve.

He set the fish on the thick branch he was situated on, next to the others he'd already caught that day.

Maybe he could figure out a way to dry them? Then they'd keep for a lot longer, which would mean less time being spent fishing.

Which reminded him.

Cole began wrapping the wire up; packing away his job for the day he used the last bit of its length to tie around the tails of the fish for easy transportation.

Then he hopped down from the branch to continue with his day.

Or at least, as much as he could do. A glance to the sky showed a nearing tundra of dark clouds that could only mean that a snow storm was coming. Though they looked fairly far off, Cole had faith that he had a little bit more time.

More time to tread through the snow with his fishing pole resting on one shoulder, listening to the sound of the fresh blanket crunch and buckle under his weight as he made his way deeper into the surrounding forest. Though he wasn't going to get lost. He'd been this way already, if the deep score marks on the trees around him was anything to go by. They marked a path, a way home in a way. All he had to do was turn around and keep the marked trees on his left side, and he'd be back at the cavern in no time.

The carved trees also marked out how far both he and Zane had trekked during their stints outside, each day they would go a bit further, score off a few more trees; yet currently, staying closer to their home base was more important.

As time went on, and as circumstances would evidently change if they got the mech working, they could venture further easier.

For now Cole was content with walking around the area he already knew, specifically, searching for dead trees, or one with snapped and dying branches.

If they didn't get the mech working, then they'd need other ways to get warm, and as much as Cole knew they'd gotten lucky with very few storms and generally nice days; he also knew that they had in no way experienced the worst of the cold this realm could bestow.

Dying and dead wood meant it was already pretty dry, a few days out of the elements and it might have a chance of being firewood. Though it was an ongoing and long process.

Cole had collected wood last week and laid it out uniformly over the cavern floor, yet any attempts to strike a flame and start a blaze had ended with very sore and tired hands and a pile of splintered wood. He'd tried the blow torch, that was the first thing he'd done. Everything was just so saturated with damp that nothing took.

It didn't mean Cole would stop trying, and by collecting wood today in order to dry it off for a later date, it meant that he and Zane could be better prepared for whatever the realm threw at them in the future.

They were in it for the long haul, after all. What with no way home.

No way home and no rescue team coming to get them.

He sighed lightly as he used the dagger to sever an already hanging branch from a tree and held it under his arm as he walked over to another tree.

Then another.

And another.

Until Cole was walking around with a substantial assortment of thin branches and some smaller fairly dry twigs in his hands, coupled with his fishing rod now being balanced on the opposite shoulder, there wasn't really much else he could carry without dropping anything.

So he made the, most likely smart decision, to head back to the cavern for the day. Sure, there was daylight left and the storm clouds were still far off in the distance, but Cole wasn't going to do much more with full hands.

He was stepping gingerly over the frozen lake when he felt the temperature take a sudden drop around him. The temperate weather of a sunny winter day took a stark and tangible shift. The wind picked up and blew through the torn gaps in his gi, pelted over his bare arms and made him involuntarily drop his carried items in favour of wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the bitter chill.

Cole felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up, and that wasn't just due to the cold.

He glanced down at the branches that he'd dropped, at the strung up fish that laid on the top of the frozen river. Then he looked past them, looked past the surface ice and down to the flowing water below. Or at least, what had used to be flowing not a few seconds ago.

Fish that had been freely swimming beneath the ice were now frozen in place, suspended in their final actions by the water that had apparently undergone a flash freezing. The river, once topped with both thick areas of ice and slightly more dubious spots were now a solid chunk of ice all the way down to the river bed.

Then Cole glanced at the trees just as snow began to fall and a once clear sky was soon overtaken by a wall of darkened clouds. Frost was visibly crawling over the bark in frozen spirals, and honestly it was an extremely pretty sight. Watching as they grew and danced, creating pattern after pattern.

Yet, it didn't stop the feeling of a lead weight dropping in his stomach.

The snowfall was speeding up now, becoming heavier, thicker, more blinding. It was getting worse by the second.

It was getting colder by the second too, he could feel the numbness edging into his fingers, the cold chill nipping at his face, reddening and numbing his cheeks.

Then when frost started to form on the front of his gi, Cole didn't even take a moment to collect his belongings from the floor. He just broke into a sprint, running headlong into the snowstorm and the growing fresh blanket of snowfall.

He needed to get back to the cavern. It didn't take a genius to realise that the weather wasn't natural.

Snow didn't fall from a previously clear sky, clouds didn't form and blacken the sky within seconds from nothing.

Water didn't freeze so suddenly.

It required a catalyst for something so abnormal, a force behind it.

Raw energy and power.

Like an elemental master and the scroll of Forbidden Spinjitzu.

Zane.

This time, finding his way back to the cavern was muscle memory. Cole didn't look around to see if he was following the right path of trees, he was just running. He had to get to the cavern, he had to prove himself wrong.

This had to be just one huge overreaction; maybe this was a weird event that happened in this realm every once in a while? A sudden freeze.

Internally, though, he knew that he was just lying to himself.

The temperature only continued to drop the closer he got to their shelter, Cole didn't even spare a second thought to the giant bird that sometimes circled the area; even that thing seemed to be staying away.

He could see why even through the blinding rage the storm had developed to. The sheer blue light was a guide towards the mouth of the cave, but also a sign of what was waiting for him inside.

That knowledge didn't halt his step. If Zane was in fact holding the staff, if he was causing the shift in the weather that was so sudden and severe as it was, then something wasn't right. His friend needed help and danger or not, he wasn't going to go anywhere but the eye of the storm.

He did slow at the entrance though, his footsteps falling silent as they moved from the crunch of the snow to the solid stone floor. Cole just walked inside, his hands pinned under his arms to try and get some feeling back into them now that he was sheltered from the wind and snow.

"Would you advise me to do so?" Zane's voice echoed around the room, it had a dubious note to it. Confusion.

Why was he talking to himself? He furrowed his eyebrows and was about to step out into the expanse of the cave when,

In a gravelly tone, "Most certainly."

An unknown voice. An unknown third person.

Cole felt the hair on his neck prickle, and it wasn't due to the power of the scroll.

There was someone in there. With Zane.

From the beginning

Ch 06 > Ch 07 > Ch 08

AO3

#The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon AU #The Ice Emperor and The Earth Dragon #cole #zane #cole brookstone #zane julien #cole ninjago #zane ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #The Ice Emperor #General Vex #mcfanely writes #mcfanely aus #mcfanely

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official-hawknose · 4 years

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Leafpool and Squirrelflight!

Their names stay the same btw.

The red-tail trait runs very strong in the family, lol

Leafpool looks most like their dad with her alternative markings(the black + orange) whole her base pelt is more similar to Sandstorm.

She also has yellow eyes, from Sandstorms parents!

Leafpool is the shorter of the two, with dainty paws and silkier fur. Since she's still a medicine cat, her fur isn't as coarse and thick like warriors. Squirrelflights fur is thicker and coarse. Her tail is super fluffy and, objectively, the softest part of her pelt. During winter, both of them get a bit more fluff, and Squirrelflight gets a ruff of fur around her neck!

They both have smaller back paws, too.

Leafpool still elopes with Crowfeather, and still comes back to Cinderpelts death, but returns in time to try and save her from the badger! It doesnt quite work, but Cinderpelt isn't as gravely injured and has time to speak with her loved ones before her body gives out. She also isn't reincarnated, but instead watches over Cinderheart!

Leafpool still has the three, and Squirrelflight still takes them in. The thing with Ashfur happens, but its less of Ashfur doing it on his own, and more manipulation. He's hurt and scared and Hawkfrost takes extreme advantage of it and uses his grief and frustration at himself, and twists it so he grows angry with Squirrelflight instead.

I'll talk more about it when I go on to him and Fernclouds designs, which will look a bit more different than my normal!

#squirrelflight #leafpool #frostfire au #warrior cats #design #queue

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

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It’s War

@bnha-christmas2019 | Day 2: Snowball | Bakugou x Koge (OC) Fantasy AU | Teen | Cursing, sexually suggestive conversation

Based around my fic The Dragon Kings Treasure.

Koge knew very well that she was putting herself in danger. This task that she had settled on, this daunting and horrific action could very easily bring an end to life as she knew it. She could easily be defeated, smushed into the snowy earth and left to the mercy of the vicious beast she was up against. Death would surely be upon her, and she could feel its icy breath run down her spine, the crisp winter air warning her to not dare tempt fate. But how could she not? This was the perfect opportunity to challenge herself and get revenge on this creature who had been victorious against her one too many times. He was caught off guard, unaware of her plans, so she would have the upper hand, right?

Stealthily walking behind him, Koge watched for any sign of him turning around, seemingly unaware as she squatted down to scoop up a handful of snow. Well, it was more than a handful, as she rolled the icy ball into a decent size. Her keen eyes never left the back of the fluffy blonde head of her victim, her tail swaying about behind her to keep her balance. The quiver of arrows and bow strapped to her torso were ignored in favor of the natural weapon, slowly standing once she was sure that he was unaware. He had a bow in his hand, but the arrows on his back were untouched.

For the moment, she found herself a bit distracted by his back, unable to resist watching the way his muscles rolled with each movement he made. Even with the cold, he was content with just the grey long sleeve top he wore that stopped at his ribs, the fur around his waist, thick pants and boots enough to keep him warm. He was also lucky that his bloodline just happened to be fire born dragons, so his core temperature was always at a ridiculous level. She found herself craving his touch at the moment, especially as her hands gripped onto the snow. Unlike him, she was a cold natured dragon breed, thus got cold much easier. Over their years of being together, she had grown to depend on his warmth during the winter months, and he was always content to oblige.

Except for now. She had forgotten her warm cloak while they were out hunting, and what does he do? He shuns her away, scoffing and scolding her for being so forgetful while denying her his hand to hold. The betrayal was unforgivable, so Koge knew that she had to take her revenge on him, even if he was her lover and the great Dragon Lord Bakugou Katsuki. If he wouldn’t share his blessings with her, then he didn’t deserve them, either. Punishment with a snowball to the back of the head was necessary, and if she perished, then so be it.

With a deep and silent breath to steady herself, she waited for the right moment. Wound up her pitch--

“If you throw that at me, we’re going to have problems.”

And her throw fell short, landing behind him on the ground with a pathetic plop. Pouting, Koge huffed as he glowered down at her from over his shoulder, having somehow figured out her plans. “How did you know I was gonna throw it at you?!” Frustrated, her tail flicked about behind her, wiping the remaining snow off her hands.

“You’re not stealthy, Koge. You think I can’t tell the difference between footsteps in the snow and someone picking it up?” Bakugou continued walking through the woods, once again looking ahead of him as he tried to keep an eye out for any game. “And your breathing changed. I thought I taught you those things.”

Sighing, Koge followed him, trying to rethink her plans now that they had been foiled. “You didn’t teach me how to make a snowball without anyone noticing, Katsuki.” Feeling her tail scrape across the snow behind her, a thought crossed her mind, and she had to restrain the smirk from crossing her lips. “Besides, we’ve been walking through this forest for like two hours with no sign of anything. Let’s take a break.”

“No. It hasn’t been two hours, we’ve only been doing this for maybe half an hour. If you didn’t want to hunt, you could have just told me.”

“It’s not that,” Koge gave a small sigh, letting out an exaggerated grumble in hopes that it would shield the sound of the fin of her tail scooping up snow. “I just want to hold your hand and you won’t let me.”

“I can’t hold your hand while we’re out hunting!” Bakugou hissed at her in a hushed snap, not wanting his voice to boom all across the forest. “I told you! You forgot your cloak, you have to suffer!”

“But don’t you love me, Katsuki?”

“Love has nothing to do with this!”

“Then perish.”

“Wha--?” Before Bakugou could understand what she meant, he was smacked in the side of the head with a snowball Koge had created while they conversed. The entire world felt like it stopped, with Bakugou hunched over covering the hit side of his head. Prepping herself to run, Koge watched him closely, though there’s nothing she could have done to prepare herself for the retaliation.

With speed and skills Koge did not possess, because she lacked the use of magic, Bakugou shoved his hand into the snow with his palm facing her, setting off an explosion that was strong enough to send snow cascading over the little halfling like a wave. Squealing, all Koge could do was duck down, the snow covering her from head to toe as she was forced down to sit.

“Cheater!” She cried from within her tomb, pushing all the snow off of her the best she could. Once it fell away from her face, she looked around for her lover, only to find that she was alone. Confused, she paused, trying to listen for any signs of where he had run off to. His footsteps weren’t clear, and her smelling senses were thrown off by the snow that had covered her, so wherever he had gone, she couldn’t find him from where she sat.

Slowly standing, she tried to wipe the cold, wet snow from her clothes, mumbling in annoyance to herself. He had overpowered her so easily again, all because he could use magic and she couldn’t. It was unfair, and out of all the snowball fights they ever had, she hadn’t been able to win a single one. Bakugou always found some way to overpower or outshine her to the point that she had to give up, but she knew that eventually, he would fail.

With the sound of a cracking twig, Koge’s attention instantly snapped to look up and to her right. Sure enough, her lover was there, up on the lower branches of a tree with an assortment of snowballs in the crook of his arm. Before she could react again, she was pelted with them, making her squeal and try to escape, fumbling over her own feet in the uneven snow.

“I told you! If you throw shit at me, it’s war!”

“I threw one snowball!! OW! Only one! KATSUKI--!” Laughing now, Koge was able to find refuge behind a tree, panting as she tried to catch her breath. Biting her lip to quiet her giggles, she kept herself still, once again listening for any sign of movement. Any noises he may have been making were lost inside the creaking sound of the wind in the trees, so when he dropped down from the branches right in front of her, she couldn’t help but be startled. Before she could even let out a peep in surprise, he cupped his gloved left hand over her mouth, his bare fingertips hot against her flushed cheeks.

“Shh. If you scream like that, you’ll cause an avalanche.” The smirk that crossed his lips only made Koge’s cheeks grow hotter, especially as he kept his body close to hers to keep her pinned against the tree. His right forearm resting against the rough bark, he gripped the tip of one of her horns, playfully giving it a slight tug to make her head bob to the side. “Then you’ll really have something to complain about.”

Digging her ice-cold fingers into the fur that he had strapped around his hips, Koge narrowed her eyes at him, nibbling at the leather of his glove so that he would take his hand off her mouth. He did so, resting his left forearm against the tree as well, effectively trapping her from both sides. Once she could talk, Koge let her tail wrap around their legs, tapping against his thigh in annoyance. “You’re so mean. You never give me a chance to win.”

“Why would I do that? Then it would just be a false victory. You’d hate that.” Bakugou lightly flicked some snow off the top of her head, his crimson gaze focusing on that before returning to her face. “Stupid.”

“I would not hate it. I don’t want you to let me win completely, just give me a chance. A tiny bit of a chance.”

“No. Once you really win, it will feel better than if I just gave you the victory. You have to work for it.”

With a heavy sigh in defeat, Koge leaned her head back against the tree, unable to help a smile from crossing her lips. “Oh well. I got what I wanted from that loss, anyway.”

Bakugou cocked an eyebrow in confusion, giving a click of his tongue as she urged his body in closer with a tug to his clothing. “Tch, you sneaky brat.”

Smile turning sly, Koge slipped her arms around his torso, purring sweetly as she nuzzled up against his neck. “That’s right. I got your attention. Now you have to spend some time warming me up. You have no choice.”

“You want me to warm you up? Fine. You’ll be begging to sit in the snow by the time I’m done with you.”

“I’ll try not to scream. Don’t want to cause an avalanche.”

“Good luck.”

#bnha-christmas2019 #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x oc #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #oc #original character #koge #bakugou x koge #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #cutesuki-oc

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distant-rose · 6 years

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Seal of Fate Epilogue (8/8)

Notes: Did I actually finish a story? Yes, internet, I did. And if you’re reading Once and Future and Playing Off Foul, I promise I will get back to it soon before I post my law school au. Anyway, this has been a wild ride and I have honestly loved all the responses I’ve gotten on this, particularly all of the panic and questioning of whether this last bit would be as angsty as the last bits. I’m going to say....you can be relax. This isn’t angsty at all. In fact, I think you’ll quite like it. Anyway, a special thank you to @katie-dub and @shireness-says for being so supportive. A thanks to @cssns and @drowned-dreamer whose gorgeous art will feature at the bottom of this epilogue. And as always, a huge thank you to @aerica13, my amazing beta. I couldn’t have done it without you babe! Word Count: 4,100+ AO3: [LINK] Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+

The Vineyard Sound was calm, the surface of the water almost as smooth as glass as Emma Swan sat down on the front porch of the yellow beach house. There wasn’t a single soul on the beach across the road, but it was only May and she could only imagine how crowded it got once the vacationers arrived. She knew from what Granny Lucas had told her that the beach was a private one and meant only for the residents of the neighborhood but Emma assumed the majority of the houses here were rental properties and soon the street would be crowded with strangers.

Emma hadn’t expected to remain on the Vineyard past October but something had felt wrong about returning to Maine, especially with Killian in tow. Nothing was waiting for her there while Memensha was full of ghosts, full of history that she had yet to uncover. So, she had given up her shitty loft apartment and decided to stay. She had appealed to the Lucases to remain in the house, offering to pay extra in rent. Ruby and Granny were more than willing to let them stay in the house but had refused their money, claiming that the property should have been hers in the first place because it had been Ruth Nolan’s before it had fallen into their possession. Granny had even forced Ruby to return the rental money, something that Emma was certain had more to do with her guilt than the debatable ownership of the beach house. Feeling awkward about the situation, she had insisted on paying utilities which they relented on.

Emma had taken to working shifts at the diner over the winter on top of working as a freelancer investigator alongside Killian. The majority of their work was on the mainland but Emma sensed that he enjoyed their near daily-ride over to Hyannis, his eyes glued to the ocean. He had yet to go near the water since he had lost his hand. More than once she had caught him looking out over the Atlantic with a mixture of longing and anxiety.

Two fur pelts were waiting in the top dresser, dark and sleek next to white and fluffy; one much larger than the other. They never talked about it but Emma knew it was only a matter of time.

Killian placed a whiskered kiss on her cheek as he placed her hot chocolate down on the table and sat down in the chair beside her, knee bumping into hers. Emma gave him a soft smile, mug in one hand and placing the other on top of his truncated wrist. She had taken to touching his injury in hopes of helping him become more accepting of it. In the first few weeks since the incident, he had taken to hiding it from view. If he had been a normal person with an actual driver’s license and health insurance, Emma was certain he would have been in therapy for it. Since none of those things were available, it was up to her to help him heal from his injuries and trauma. All the websites had recommended she treat his injury as it were normal and that she didn’t see him as less for it. It had been a long and rough road over the winter, yet they were both getting there slowly but surely. Rather than shake her off, as he had done in previous months, today Killian just stiffened briefly at the contact. He relaxed when he turned his attention on the water. Emma took this as a small victory.

“It’s calm out there today,” he said quietly as he drank from his own mug.

“I was just thinking that. And how it won’t be long before it’s swarmed with people.”

“Aye,” he placed his mug down, jaw tightening. “Which is why I think now is the time.”

“Time?” She looked at him uncertainty.

“Time,” he repeated. “Time for us to take a swim.”

“Now? In May? Are you serious? The water is probably freezing!”

“Perhaps to a human, but not to us,” he said quietly. “The ocean is a part of us, love. It’s our home.”

Emma hesitated, placing her hot chocolate on the table and straightening her shoulders. This is a conversation she had played over and over in her head during the past months. They should have talked about this sooner but she had been so happy to have him in her life and so desperate to keep him after everything that had happened, she had allowed them to play house while keeping her fears trapped in the back of her mind.

“It is your home,” she said, looking him in the eye. “But I’m not sure it’s mine.”

“What do you mean, love?” He was looking at her with such concern that it almost hurt.

“I was born a selkie but I’ve lived the last thirty years of my life as a human being. The only time I’ve really spent around the ocean has been when I came here. I don’t even know how to swim, Killian, that wasn’t necessarily a priority for kids in foster care, you know?” She took in a deep breath. “And my pelt...you’ve seen it...it belongs to a baby…what if my connection to it is broken? What if I can’t connect like you can?” Her voice wavered slightly on the last question.

Killian met her gaze steadily, taking her hand off her mug and entwining it with his hand, interlocking their fingers and giving them a small squeeze.

“Been thinking about this for awhile now, have you?”

She bit her lip, not wanting to tell him that she had been thinking about it since October. When she didn’t answer his question, he sighed and spoke again.

“Emma, what happened to you...was unprecedented to say the least. I understand why Granny did what she did even though I don’t and could never agree with it...I don’t know what will happen if you tried to slip into your sealskin but what I do know is that no matter what happens, I’m not leaving.”

“I can’t keep you from the ocean, Killian,” she whispered.

“I can’t promise that the tide won’t call to me - I will need to leave at times, but there is something that I can promise and that promise is that I will always, always come back to you. You are as much part of me as the ocean is, love, and I don’t think I could bear being separated from you any more than I could being separated from it.”

He squeezed her hand again before bringing it up to his lips and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

“Well okay then, you’re certainly no Mr. Darcy,” she responded with an uneasy laugh. She expected him to give her his patented curious look but much to her surprise, he gave her a small smirk and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, love, he was quite a wretched orator. I would have been insulted by that proposal as well and would have hit him for good measure. Much better writer.”

Emma blinked, not expecting this response. “You know who Mr. Darcy is?”

He gave her a slightly condescending look, as if she had dribbled on her shirt.

“I’ve been on dry land for nearly eight months now, love. I know how to read and have plenty of spare time to catch up on all the delightful references you seem to make…” he paused for a moment, smirk growing on his lips. “So, if I’m not Darcy, then who am I?”

“Mr. Collins,” she drawled.

“Hey!” He pushed her shoulder lightly. “That’s not nice! I’m Mr. Bingley at worst.”

“So you would rather to be the guy who can’t make his own decisions and is easily persuaded by his sisters and best friend?”

He frowned at that. “Perhaps not. I’m more of a Mr. Knightley kind of man anyway.”

Emma’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as she tried to recall a Mr. Knightley character in Pride and Prejudice. When she came up short, she frowned at him.

“There isn’t a Mr. Knightley in Pride and Prejudice.”

“No, there isn’t. I’m afraid he’s in character in another one of Jane Austen’s works. The novel he’s in is probably my favorite of her books. I think we both have a lot in common, particularly in regard to women.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he happens to be in love with the titular character, a woman who is headstrong and a complete force of nature. Her name fits her perfectly.”

“Oh, what’s her name?”

He gave her a fond smile. “Emma.”

She almost hated how much her heart leapt in her chest when he said that. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he had expressed his feelings to her, every time felt new and sent a jolt through her system. It didn’t seem like a reaction that was going away anytime soon.

She leaned forward, giving him a brief kiss before pulling away and bumping his nose with hers.

“You’re a sap.”

“Perhaps, but I’m your sap,” he replied, squeezing her hand again. “And I think we’ve drifted dreadfully off course with our conversation in regards to swimming.”

She shook her head.

“It’s way too cold. It’s practically still ice. We had frost on the ground last week for Christ’s sake.”

“And as I said before, it’s too cold for a human but not for us.”

“And as I said before, we don’t know if I’m selkie enough for it.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

She studied him for a moment, taking in the earnest expression on his face before sighing and getting up from her chair. She stretched out her limbs, raising her arms and rolling her shoulders.

“Alright, fine, but if I freeze to death, I’m going to kill you.”

“Don’t worry, love, if you get too cold, I know more than a few ways to warm you up,” he replied with a leer, eyebrows dancing.

Emma gave him a whack on the shoulder in response, but the reproach in her actions was negated slightly by the small smile that was tugging at her lips.

It was while she was rummaging through the dresser that Emma realized that not once in her life had she owned a bathing suit. The revelation heightened her anxiety, another reminder that Emma had been completely separated from the ocean, from Killian’s world. She pulled on a sports bra and a pair of running shorts, hoping that they would suffice.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the top drawer, revealing the pelts that had been left untouched since October. She ran her fingers through the fluffy white fur, relishing in the calm feeling it always seem to provide her whenever she felt stressed. She pulled it out, staring at it with mixture of fondness and dread. It would barely suffice as a shawl, let alone cover her entire body. She didn’t have a lot of optimism in that department. She sighed as she placed it in the beach bag she had pulled out of the closet. At least she would finally have answers.

She was worried about touching Killian’s pelt, remembering how he had reacted the last time he had caught her with it. Though it had been eight months since that incident, the look on his face when she had hesitated in returning it was still fresh in her mind.

“You gonna pack it up or what?” He called over her shoulder, causing her to jump.

She turned, fixing him with a glare.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Apologies, love, but you seemed to be taking a while to get ready,” he responded with a frown.

His eyes darted between the pelt in the drawer and the fear on her face. Emma watched as understanding seemed to dawn on him. He stepped forth, placing his hand and wrist on her shoulders, smoothing them down her arms.

“You can touch it,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed,” she responded. “I’m still kinda new at this.”

“You’re more than allowed...it’s as much yours as it is mine.”

“I don’t want your pelt, Killian. It’s yours. I don’t know how to make it more clear that I don’t want to trap you.”

“And I don’t know how times I have to tell you that I love you and I’m not leaving you. You’re not trapping me. It’s just a gesture of trust. I trust you.”

“I don’t need it, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed, kissing her forehead. “Now, grab the damn pelt and let’s hit the water.”

They walked across the street, fingers interlocked and hands swinging between them. Emma paused as they got nearer to the shoreline, her eyes darting up the coast and towards the Gold house which still stood imperiously on the hill overlooking the street. There was no one there but she couldn’t help but shiver every time she saw it, thinking of the horror show basement and the jar of teeth on the mantle. The house technically now belonged to Gold’s estranged son but no one had heard anything from him since he had left the Vineyard and the radio silence had continued even after his father’s death.

She still had nightmares about the incident. Her dreams were plagued with shrill laughter and red ocean water. Even the discovery of Gold’s mangled body fifteen minutes away on South Beach near Katama had done little to assuage her fears. Only Killian’s presence beside her at night seemed to help - though still, every once in a while, she woke up screaming and they would both sit outside with hot chocolate and stare at the water.

Killian seemed to follow her line of thought, loosening her hold on his hand so that he could wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her close. He placed a kiss on her temple.

“Hey, he’s gone. He can’t hurt us, you know that.”

“I know,” she replied quietly. “I just want to burn the place to the ground though. I can’t look at it...without thinking of my parents...of Milah...of all the people he’s murdered and the selkies he’s skinned...He deserved a lot worse than he got.”

Killian flinched slightly at her words. He was still coming to grips with everything Gold had done in the past, as she was herself. They had spent more hours than they could count talking about the gravity of what he had done to them, to the people they loved. There was still a lot of anger and pain buried in them that they needed to work out but Emma hoped it would lessen with time.

“I don’t know, Swan, getting mauled to death by a shark is a selkie’s worst fear. I can’t think of a more fitting death aside from it being at one of our hands - well, in my case, hand.”

She was silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully.

“I’m glad.”

“About what?”

“I’m glad that it wasn’t us. I’m glad that we didn’t kill him because then his blood would be on our hands and we would have stooped to his level.”

“I think I’m going to disagree with you on that, love, and table it there. It’s not worth the argument. That man isn’t worth any more of our time than he’s already taken. Now, I’m going to teach you to swim.”

Emma reached to grab the pelts from her bag but Killian stopped her, placing his hand gently on her arm.

“I was thinking I would teach you the human way first. There’s no need to rush into this head on. Shifting form can be uncomfortable and I want you more comfortable in the water before we add to that…”

She nodded, dropping the beach bag on the sand and shifting around the beach towels to cover up the pelts. There wasn’t anyone on the beach but Emma felt more comfortable covering them, hidden from view should anyone walk by.

It was Killian who hesitated this time, just short of where the waves were gently lapping at the shore. His shoulders were tense and squared up, as if he was facing the enemy rather than the place he called home.

“You okay?” she placed a hand between his shoulder blades.

“I…” he paused, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I haven’t been in the water since it happened.”

Her heart clenched in sympathy and it was then that she realized that she wasn’t the only one anxious about this. Killian had frequently mentioned that getting caught by a shark was a nightmare scenario for a selkie and it was a nightmare he had barely survived. Emma had always figured that his reluctance in the past months to return to the ocean had been about his missing limb but now she realized it was only a part of it.

“Hey,” she murmured, smoothing her hand down his back. “I got you and you got me. We’re going to be okay.”

He laughed at this but Emma could hear some strain in it.

“Aye, I’ve seen your shark fighting skills up close and personal, Swan. If anyone’s going to save me from the finned devils, it’s you.”

“Exactly,” she grinned. “So what are you waiting for?”

The water was cold but not nearly as bad as she had been expecting and the longer she waded in the water, the more she got used to it. Killian gave her a smug grin as she followed him farther into the waves.

“Not too cold for you?”

“Yeah. It’s not too bad. What is it, like, 70 degrees?”

“I don’t know how your garbage American temperature systems works but it’s like 13 or 14 degrees celsius.”

Emma did the math quickly in her head, eyes widening in realization. She looked down at the water then back at his face in astonishment.

“Jesus Christ, so this is like 45-50 degree water we’re in! How are we not freezing?”

He laughed. “How many times do I have to tell you that selkies don’t work the same way humans do? Our bodies are designed for this. I’ve happily stayed in these waters during the winter when it’s much colder than this.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect it would be the same for me…”

“Hey,” he said softly. “What happened to you doesn’t make you any less, okay? You might have been out of the water for a long time but you were born one of us. You were always one of us...Now, want to see something else we can do that they can’t?”

“Ummm...sure?”

He laughed, head disappearing under the waves. She stared in confusion, not comprehending what he was doing. A few moments passed and nothing happened. His head broke the surface of the water and he gave her a frown.

“You were supposed to follow me…”

“Killian, I’m barely swimming as is, I don’t need to go under.”

“You’re fine and yes, you do.”

“Why?”

He gave an annoyed look. “Can you just trust me please?”

“Fine, fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

She closed her eyes, dunking her head under the waves. With her head submerged, it felt slightly warmer and she waited for something to happen. When something touched her face, she opened her eyes without meaning to.

Clear vision.

Emma had never stepped foot in a pond, lake, pool or any body of water to speak of but she was very much familiar with the fact that normal people generally couldn’t see that well in water and that old filmmakers had used wax paper to show that effect. She found no difference in vision between land and sea.

Killian smiled at her, pulling his hand away from her cheek and holding up three fingers. Slightly confused, she copied him. His smile widened as he brought up his pinkie and spread his middle and ring finger to make a Vulcan salute. Again, she followed suit. He did a few series of hand motions, each more complex than the last, changing it up every time she finally did each one. When she copied the last one, which was a simple cross of fingers, he moved forth to kiss her.

It wasn’t nearly as romantic as the movies made it seem, nose banging into hers, lips sliding awkwardly and teeth clacking when he pushed forth with a little too much effort. It was how Emma imagined kissing in space would be like - a cute idea but hard to maneuver in reality. It got better when he anchored his hand in her hair. It didn’t last long however, as Emma’s lungs practically screamed for air. She couldn’t help but laugh as she broke the surface.

“That...that was something!” She chuckled.

Killian tugged her closer, bringing her in for another kiss that was more successful than the last one and had more heat to it. She was constantly falling in love with the soft sound he made when she would nip at his bottom lip.

“You could see,” he murmured, smiling at her and resting his forehead against hers.

“I could,” she grinned.

“That’s good sign. Are you ready to try the pelt?”

“Honestly no but it’s better to do this now rather than speculate on it any further.”

It wasn’t until they reached that shore that Emma felt her nerves kick into overdrive, heart hammering in her chest and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Killian grabbed both of their pelts and handed hers over with a soft smile.

“Whatever happens, we are going to be okay,” he reminded her gently.

They dived back into the surf, swimming further out than where they had been last time. Killian spread his pelt in front until the head was facing in his direction. Emma followed suit, her pelt looking slightly larger in the water than it did on land.

“You’re going to want to press your foot in,” he said quietly, demonstrating.

Dubiously, Emma copied the motion, slipping her foot into her sealskin. She had expected resistance, as it was only the fraction of her size but amazingly enough it stretched to envelope her entire leg. She looked back at Killian in amazement. He merely chuckled in response but pushing his other leg in. She followed his demonstration, lifting the stretching skin over her shoulders and finally her head.

A strange sensation to hold of her, bones shifting and clicking. It wasn’t painful so much as uncomfortable, shifting without her conscious thought. Her skin stung and she let out a small whimper, feeling like a thousand little needles were biting into her skin and sewing the pelt to her. Something wrapped itself around her, making comforting noises. She opened her eyes. A large seal was pressing its face against her, rubbing affectionately. She moved what she thought was her hand, only to realise her arm motion was limited. It took her a few seconds to realise she no longer had an arm but a flipper.

A flipper.

She was a seal.

Killian continued to circle her, nuzzling his head against her body and making small noises which she instinctively knew meant love and affection. As much as she returned his feelings, his constant circling was getting in the way of her learning to use her new limbs properly and she made an impatient nip at him. He seemed to get the message but only just barely, practically vibrating with excitement.

Moving in the water somehow was freer than walking on land and she revelled in maneuvering so effortless, letting out small trills of happiness. Never before in her life had she felt so free. Killian followed her, copying her movements and moving soft noises that were affectionate but different than his original message. It took Emma a few moments to figure out what he was communicating to her.

Welcome home.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #cssns #seal of fate #my fic #my shit

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everythingiwritesucksoop · 6 years

Text

The Jewel of June

Hello All!

I’m sorry for being so busy. I’ve finally finished this piece I thought of when listening to the Jewel of June by the Milk Carton Kids. Hopefully you all enjoy, as this was a rather experimental piece!

No warnings? Fluff for sure, mild angst but nothing harsh.

Bucky x Fem!Reader

January

She was so beautiful. He didn’t know how, but no matter the situation, she flowed with grace, glowed with positive energy, and sparked warmth into everyone that laid eyes on her. Like now, even though they were in the midst of a mission gone wrong, she pierced enemies throats with an unknown poise, and danced her way through the enemy soldiers, Hydra agents falling to her feet as his heart fell for her.

February

It was hard not to look at her. Even while in the compound, wrapped in her own thoughts, she radiated calm perfection. Though it was a cold February, her heart kept her warm, giving her the wonderful ability to spoon soft ice cream while in fluffy pajamas. He watched her sigh in content as the chilly treat past her soft lips, god those lips, and he saw her body visibly relax against the kitchen counters. Even in the freezing February weather, she could make his soul melt.

March

Colorful buds started to bloom, peeking out of the frost, and as they started to bloom, so did her smiles. Now they were more frequent, and she often smiled at the baby blooms, whispering encouraging words to them, as if they’d grow faster. As if they could listen. Though Bucky couldn’t always listen, he wished he could. Though her whispers of support and kindness weren’t directed to him, whatever he did hear, he would take to heart. Words of encouragement like “Oh, little love, I know you can do it” would ring in his ears on various missions, and “there’s no need to rush, finish your work at your own pace” could be heard echoing in his mind during training. But the one he always heard, even while simply laying in bed, was the one he wanted her to say to him directly. “I’m so proud of you, of your growth.

I love you.”

April

The rain was deafening today. The storm was still brewing, with thunder calling from far away, rumbling softly in the distance. And even through the wet weather, she stayed dry with her sunny disposition. He watched from above, his room’s window giving him the best view he could ask for; her dancing in the rain. She wore an oversized rain jacket, and lounge pants she had received from Sam for Christmas, and was currently splashing with Peter in the rain. With her colorful rain boots contrasting with the gray backyard porch, and with Peter dancing around goofily, a smile plastered on his face, Bucky could only look down at the sight and smile softly in content.

May

It was now or never. Here she was, staring up into his eyes- his eyes that had seen murder, death, and war -and yet here she was, waiting with bated breath. She’d been hurt on a mission, nothing too terrible, just a fractured wrist, but yet Bucky couldn’t help but worry, and fuss over her while she healed. He helped cut her food, brush her hair, and type up long reports. She must have caught on to his nursing behavior, because here she was, her ethereal body waiting in patience, after asking a simple yet demanding question: “What’s going on with you?” With a sigh of defeat, and brave face shown, Bucky simply bows his head in slight shame and mutters “I like you, okay?”

He wasn’t expecting her to smile.

He wasn’t expecting her to kiss him softly.

But who was he to expect something from an angel?

June

Here she lay, under the bright sun. Her hair splayed out like a halo around her head, her summer dress fanned out on the greening grass, Bucky is reduced to merely smiling once more. His back is against a tree, his hand, his real hand interlaced with one of hers. Though this must not be enough, for soon she’s pushing off the ground, and settles into a new position: sitting in his lap. She tentatively grabs both his hands and wraps his arms around herself, pressing her back into his chest. Bucky freezes at first, not wanting to hurt her with his metal arm, the one he hates, the one that brings destruction, yet is relieved when she kisses it lightly, and he takes the opportunity to put his head on her shoulder, to kiss her cheek in innocent adoration. “You are the Jewel of June” he mumbles into her ear, inhaling her coconut scented hair, and her sunscreen kissed skin. “And you, the heliodor of my heart.” She sighs back, a look of love plastered on her face.

July

It is unbearably hot. The compound has the A/C on blast, yet Bucky feels his hair sticking to his neck, the sweltering heat becoming rudely relentless. He tries to cool down by spreading out in the bed, with no luck. But then she comes in, floating into his- no, their -room with a small laundry basket, and suddenly, it feels like he can breathe with ease again. “Though I love calling you honey, you don’t need to be as sticky as it.” She says with a playful smile, her laugh reverberating in the room. He can only smirk in reply, and watches as she starts to fold their laundry. “Barnes, are you going to help me fold, or are you going to keep drooling?” She teases, her eyes meeting his. “I’ll do both, doll” he remarks as he gets up to help.

August

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He just wanted her to be safe. But she took it the wrong way. He said it the wrong way. He knew the second he said it, the second the “stay here” passed his lips, he’d messed up. Instantly her eyes shone with hurt, the sting of betrayal evident on her face. “I am not made of glass, James.” She seethed quietly, while calm and fiery red waves of anger rolled from her aura, her face set in hardening pain. She shoved him off with a grimace, and stalked off to the jet. The mission was noisy, but it was nothing compared to her deafening silence for Bucky. As they fought, she controlled her rage into killing enemies recklessly, throwing herself into the crossfire. His heart sank as he watched her from his peripherals, and anxious acid burned in his stomach.

How could he ever recover from this?

September

The chill of autumn started to waft into the weather, coaxing Bucky to linger outside, instead of staying behind glass windows. They had made up recently, too tired to keep fighting, and to exhausted in their equal endeavors to avoid the elephant in the room. It had taken a lot of patience from both of them, as they laid out their feelings like dealt cards on a table. Bucky learned that he can be overbearing, and she learned that he only did it out of love. Through compromise and communication, they healed and now sat, side by side on the top of Stark’s Tower, peering down to the bustling night traffic of the City that Never Sleeps. The cool autumn breeze now blows gently through her hair, and Bucky notices not only that she’s changed her shampoo scent from coconut to apple, but that her chapstick as changed as well, from cherry to caramel creme.

October

She was always beautiful to him, and he never knew just how beautiful she could get. It seemed like every day, her skin grew more radiant, and her eyes shone even more. But now, right now, Bucky cannot breathe.

She’s usually his breath of fresh air in a room, his saving grace and his life, but now she stands before him, and he finds that her beauty is breathtakingly deadly. She’s clad in a floor-length, wine colored gown, with a plunging neckline that just barely lets her cleavage peek out from the luscious fabric. The bodice and gown is rather plain, with small crystals adorning the bottom trim, and- as Bucky now sees as she turns -the back detailing. He tries to collect his breathing and stay calm, but how can he? Here she was, his girl, his angel on Earth, with a look that would put Aphrodite herself to shame, and he’s supposed to stay calm and collected? There was no way. He watched her and Natasha laugh, and descend the stairs to the Halloween party. He knows it’s her, though she has a silver mask delicately balanced on her face, and he can only wait at the bottom of the stairs for her to descend to him. He knows her by her body, by her hair, her smile, hell, he knows her solely by her aura, and as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, watching her descend as if from Heaven to him, Bucky realizes that he will never get used to her beauty.

November

The November Rain was cold and fresh on their faces. They laid on the now wet blanket, a simple picnic in disarray due to the coming winter storm. The rain pelts the area around them, yet Bucky doesn’t feel the chilling sting of the icy drops. Instead, he feels his girl and her warmth seep into his skin, and into his bones. “Baby, we’re going to get sick, you know.” She hums against his chest, cuddling into him for warmth. “Mmm, but then you know, we get sick days together.” Bucky remarks, chuckling at the thought. His mind wanders to the idea of them both sniffling, under cotton covers, with a fleece blanket on top. No doubt she’ll be snuggled into him, and he, propped up to breathe, will support her and kiss her hairline as she dozes off. Even being sick sounds like heaven with her, Bucky realizes, and it is in this moment, in the freezing and cold November rain, with now frost-tipped grass, that he realizes

She’s the one.

December

Christmas lights twinkle and glint in every room. Tony always likes to decorate with elaborate detail, and Peter and Sam always bicker over who gets to do what. This year, lights are strung by strong spiderwebs, while ornaments and tinsel of red and silver adorn the gigantic pine tree. Tony and Steve had picked out the tree this year, and found it to be a tight squeeze into the huge compound, the tip of the tree just barely scratching the ceiling surface. And yet, even through all the chaos, the mess of dry and fallen pine needles, the glittering shards of dropped ornaments (which was all Peter’s fault, according to Sam), and the new hot cocoa stains bleeding into Stark’s favorite couch, Bucky can only seem to focus on her. She laughs more during this time of year, he notices, and she seems to emit an even happier and joyful energy, which he didn’t think was possible. As everyone sits around the tree and the roaring fireplace Tony installed, Bucky only has eyes for his girl. Even when Natasha laughs at the joke gift Clint got her, and even when Wanda uses her magic to hit him lightly on the head to get his attention, he always ends up looking at her. “James”, she whispers, handing him a small box wrapped in silver paper with a light creme bow, “This one’s for you. I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I saw it and thought of you.” She says with a hopeful smile. Bucky stares at the small box, and tentatively peels off the shiny paper. Inside the box, under a small sheet of white gift paper, lies a star. A gold star, to be exact, and the weight of the metal is heavy even when held in his metal arm. “I know the red paint of your star may be gone from your arm, but, you’re a part of us now.” She says softly, as Bucky merely eyes the glinting decoration. “This way you can still represent us, and Steve especially, without completely re-forging your arm.” Bucky looks to her, with a grateful smile on his face. Never in his life did he think he would be so grateful, for now, as everyone nods in agreement, he knows he has a new family, and now he knows he is home.

“Bucky, honestly, you didn’t need to get me anything else!” She scolds lightly, slapping his arm in mock anger. “I know Doll, I heard you loud and clear.” He rumbles, kissing her forehead lightly. “But I saw this and thought of you.” He says with a knowing smirk, echoing your previous words. By now, the fire had dimmed down to burning embers, and everyone was either asleep, or in the dining room, discussing to Peter all the new rules for his brand new spider suit. (A gift from Tony, of course). But here Bucky has pulled his angel away from the crowd, asking for a quick kiss and a quick word. “Oh James, I should’ve known you were going to use my words against me someday.” She mutters, while shaking her head with a soft laugh. “It won’t be the last time, you know.” Bucky warns her, and she looks up to him, a smile of understanding thrown to him in response. He holds her hand, and feels his heartbeat pick up speed. “Just do it, you know she’s the one.” He thinks to himself with hope. With another brave face, and a breath held in anticipation, James Buchanan Barnes gets down on one knee.

He wasn’t expecting you to cry.

He wasn’t expecting you to kiss him before breathing out “yes”.

But yet again,

Who was he to expect anything from his Angel?

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need1etail · 6 years

Text

Kitty Cat Bodies

This is just me rambling about the main character/cats that are important in this AU/my favorite character's body types

Alderheart- Smoll! Fluffy! Big tail! Good boy. Okay but seriously, Alderpaw takes after his mom in physique, short legs, small shoulders, petite, but definitely takes after Bramblestar pelt wise: dark pelt (it's ginger but it's still pretty dark), fluffy, tufts on his ears. He got the tail his mom was named after

Sparkpelt- She is the complete opposite. She was born the second smallest in the litter, besides Dandelionkit, but grew the fastest. She was nearly the size of Bramble by the time she was an apprentice. She got her mom's pelt color, but her dad's fluffiness.

Needletail- As an apprentice, she was super sleek. She constantly groomed herself so she could be seen as the prettiest badass in the Clan. She took after her dad in physique and pelt color: a tall, muscular, silver cat. She’s got a tail that points like a needle at the end. She called herself Needletail because of her tail, but also after Darktail cause she looked up to him.

Twigpaw- As a kit, she was small, smaller than the average cat in all honesty, and Lilyheart and Daisy were worried she wouldn't make it through a half moon. But she grew eventually and became stronger. She's never been exactly muscular, she's still very scrawny looking, but she can leap higher than any cat in ThunderClan, considering her SkyClan heritage. She's pretty damn tall, nearly as tall as Lionblaze, and she's proud of that.

Violetpaw- she was the bigger cat in the litter, but after a couple moons of growing, she never caught up to her tall sister. She's considered short in ShadowClan and SkyClan. She always strived to be as tall and sleek as Needletail, but she just never got there: she took after her mother in her shortness and got her father's fluffy, hard to manage pelt.

Beenose- Beenose takes after her mom completely: white fur, not very muscular or tall like most ShadowClan cats, but short and plump. Some speculate that Beenose’s grandfather was a kittypet, as Snowbird’s father was never known, and she definitely didn’t take on any ShadowClan traits. Beenose doesn’t mind, and loves her plump physique, no matter what some cats say.

Lionblaze- Lionblaze is BIG. It’s probably mostly fluff though. He’s got a thick lion mane and big paws that he got from Mothwing. He enjoys physical contact which is great because he’s one of the best huggers in the Clans because of his soft, fluffy fur. He definitely takes after Mothwing.

Jayflight- Jayflight takes after Crowclaw: thin, tall, but definitely not as tall as Lionblaze, with short fur. During winter, he enjoyed sharing nests with Lionblaze and Hollyleaf because they were so warm, and his pelt didn’t do shit to keep him cozy. He has a long snout and big ears.

Hollyleaf- Hollyleaf takes after both Leafpool and Crowclaw. She has medium length fur, about the same length as Leafpool, and gets real fluffy during leafbare. She’s taller than Jayflight, but not as tall as Lionblaze, who towers over most of ThunderClan.

Tawnypelt- She's a BIG girl. She takes after both her parents, big, muscular, fluffy, broad shoulders. She's definitely bigger than Bramblestar, but not nearly as big as Mothwing.

Willowshine- She's the average size for a RiverClan she-cat: tall, muscular looking, fluffy, big paws. She's considered one of the most beautiful cats in the Clan, and many cats have found themselves gaining feelings for her. She probably has the most interesting green eyes, that stand out boldy against her dark gray pelt. She's pretty.

Sedgewhisker- She's the average WindClan cat, wiry, lanky to the point that her legs look sort of strange. She's considered pretty amongst her Clanmates, along with her sisters, as they got their father's, Beechfur, sleek RiverClan pelt.

Toadstep- He got his dad's black pelt and long legs, so he's taller than both Rosepetal and Daisy, but he's shorter than most ThunderClan cats. He's pretty skinny for a cat related to a kittypet. He takes after Spiderleg

Rosepetal- She takes after Daisy: shorter, plump, cream fur. She looks almost nothing like her dad, and, honestly, she couldn't care less that she doesn't look like him.

That's it for now! I might add some more later idk.

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77marvelimagines · 6 years

Text

Are You Midgardian?

Loki X Reader

Prompt(s): Can you make a fluffy Loki X Reader where he finds out that you, a midgardian, had ice powers too?

Notes: I feel like Loki would like someone who could control ice and snow, as long as they don’t accidentally turn him blue xD

Warning(s): None.

Word Count: 563.

Even in the blustery winter of New York, (y/n) didn’t feel affected at all. It was a genetic thing, their mother had told them long ago, as to why ice gew on the walls with their hormonal mood swings, why ice sometimes covered their hands, and why the cooler weather never bothered them. After a while (y/n) stopped listening to the bullies at school and went along with who they were, because what's better than being yourself?

Tony Stark, on the other end of the spectrum, envied his dear old ‘friend’ Loki, who walked along the New York streets in the middle of winter like it was spring. Which, by the way, he hoped was coming soon.

Loki didn’t mind the cold either. He found it amusing that Stark despised it. He didn’t like how his Jotun heritage showed though, when the snow hit his face or when Clint threw a snowball at him.

During said blustery winter Tony and Loki were out getting drinks from Starbucks for the rest of the Avengers. Normally Loki, being the lackey of the crew, went alone. But Tony’s tall and confusing order earned him a hit over the head and the right to walk with him. They both had to stop at the sight they saw after turning the corner around Avengers Tower.

(y/n) didn’t like bullies. Especially not in the winter, when they could hide ice in their snowballs and pelt the innocent younger or weaker kids. It didn’t take them long to drive the bullies off, or to make a giant castle made of snow for everyone to play and adventure on.

Tony whistled at the ten story high snow building in front of him. The engineer turned towards Loki, pointing at it, “Do you think you could do that, Rudolf? Because that's pretty cool. And if you could do that, you’d earn my respect, that's for damn sure.”

Loki scoffed, “No, my Jotun prowess does not allow me to do that, Stark. I can however do something similar with it in magic.” Tony tisked and shrugged his shoulders. Loki couldn’t help but frown as he watched (y/n).

“Are they Midgardian?” He asked. Tony looked back over and said, “Yeah, I’d presume so. They don’t look like a space alien. But then again, neither do you or Thor, except for your height differences compared to us.”

Loki nodded and strided over to (y/n), tapping them on the shoulder.

“Oh, hello.” (y/n) blinked in surprise. They stopped building the tower on the south end of the castle and turned towards Loki.

“Hello indeed. You’re midgardian, correct?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Astounding...I’ve never seen a Midgardian with powers of the winter before,” He remarked.

(y/n) laughed softly and nodded, “Yeah, it’s a genetic thing. I’m glad you like it- or at least I think you like it?”

“Yes, I like it. No need to worry. You have such finesse and elegance to the way you control the snow. Formal introduction, then. My name is Loki. And yours?” “(y/n), (y/n) (l/n). It’s nice to meet you, Loki,” They smiled. Loki smiled back and walked beside his new friend. They left Stark behind as they were ushered into the warmth of Starbucks.

“Please, my dear, it was my pleasure. I think you and I will get along wonderfully.”

#Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson X Reader #Loki Laufeyson Imagine #Loki #Loki X Reader #Loki Imagine #The Avengers #Avengers X Reader #Avengers Imagine #Marvel #Marvel X Reader #Marvel Imagine

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maximilianinc · 3 years

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Why Every Woman Should Wear a Fox Fur Coat

It isn’t easy selecting the perfect coat that fits your personality and fashion sense while keeping you warm and comfortable, too. You want a coat that can both be practical and a headturner. Your coat should keep you warm, be simple to wear and put on, and look stunning.

There is one type of coat that really outshines them all in both the areas of utility and style: a real fur coat. Real fur provides its wearer with unique qualities and always checks all the boxes for a perfect coat.

However, it can be difficult to choose a particular fur coat, as there are plenty of fur options to choose from: mink, fox, chinchilla, lynx, sable, raccoon… The list goes on. Amongst all of these, though, fox stands out the most. There are various reasons why you should choose to wear fox fur coats for women.

Affordable Price Fur coats can often be daunting due to their high prices, but not with fox fur coats. This type is one of the lowest priced fur coats! Fox fur coats for women only typically require 4-8 pelts, while other coats require many more. For example, chinchilla coats use around 150 pelts. That is one of the main reasons chinchilla coats are some of these most expensive fur coats, typically costing from $30,000 to $100,000! Fox fur coats, in contrast, cost from $800 to $2,000.

Fluffy, Comfortable, and Warm A fox’s pelt is naturally one of the fluffiest and warmest, which is why it belongs in a fine coat. The fluffiness of this fur is excellent for keeping you warm and insulated while also looking fashionable. It’s luxurious as well, furthering its level of comfort for the wearer of any fox fur coat.

Versatile and Stunning Fox fur looks great on any coat in any way that it’s designed. It makes for a great coat if it’s 100% fox fur, but it also looks elegant if it only trims it. It’s the perfect fur for high-fashion, as it looks great as trim in collars, cuffs, headbands, wraps, and scarves. No matter how your coat uses the versatile fox fur, it will effortlessly complement your body and style.

Lightweight One major issue with many fur coats is their weight. Most fur coats feel like a heavyweight on your shoulders and body, making mobility and comfort difficult to obtain. This is fortunately not the case with fox fur coats. Fox fur is naturally lightweight, so when it is worn in a coat or any other garment, it is a breeze to wear.

When choosing the best real fur coat to keep you warm, comfortable, and gorgeous during the winter, look no further than fox fur coats for women. These types of coats are the best of all the available options. If you are looking for top-quality fox fur coats and other fine fur products, visit Maximilian. They have the best options for any and all your fur needs, from coats to accessories, to best complete your wardrobe.

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azvolrien · 3 years

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A Long Walk in Winter - Part Two

In which Things Get Emotional.

---

The stag paced carefully through the snow, digging for heather to graze on, and came to a halt at the top of a gentle slope. It was an impressive beast, with fifteen points between both antlers, a sturdy frame, and a thick mane of shaggy reddish-brown fur along its neck.

Asta and Roan crouched low behind one of the snowfield boulders to observe it. They had been tracking it across the hills for almost the entire day, and it was still far enough away that the wind was masking their presence through both scent and sound.

“What do you think?” whispered Asta.

“He’s a big one,” said Roan just as quietly. “Probably sired a lot of little fawns in his heyday. But he’s older, too. See how he moves? His joints are getting stiff, and there’s a very fresh scar on his shoulder. Looks like he took a deep gouge there during the last rut and it’s still bothering him, making him slow. He won’t make it to the next one – even if we leave him alone, the wolves or something will get him. Think Pardus can carry him? I’d put him at about thirty stone – less, once I’ve finished the gralloching.”

“Oh, yes, definitely.”

“Right.” Roan readied her bow, nocking an arrow where she crouched behind the boulder. She waited until the stag had lowered its head once again before, in one fluid, practised movement, she stood, drew, and loosed. Asta peeked over the boulder just in time to see the hunting arrow with its broad head of razor-sharp chert sink deep into the stag’s side just behind one foreleg. It collapsed to the ground immediately, kicked twice, and fell utterly still.

Roan gave a small hiss of triumph and ran through the snow, drawing her long knife as she went. Asta followed her more cautiously.

“Is it dead?” she asked as she knelt with Roan beside the carcass.

Roan nodded, sheathing her knife unused. “That was a perfect heart-shot, if I say so myself. Very quick, almost painless.” She glanced sideways at Asta. “You look worried.”

“You – you aren’t going to put its blood on my face, are you?”

Roan blinked twice in open astonishment before she grinned. “Saw that in a book, did you?”

Asta rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish smile. “There was a scene in one where some older hunters did it to their young friend at his first kill. Said it was a way of honouring the prey.”

“Aye, well, some people do it,” said Roan. “It’s not a practice Granda ever had much patience for. So, firstly – strictly it’s my kill, not yours. And secondly,” she adopted a deeper, gruffer tone of voice, presumably an imitation of her grandfather, “you honour the prey by gieing it a quick end and making use o’ all ye can, not muckin’ around wi’ its blood.”

“You know, I can see where he was coming from.”

Roan did lay her hand on the side of the deer’s neck and bow her head for a few moments. “Some bits I leave,” she admitted in her normal voice. “I can’t carry enough jars for all the blood, and at this time of year the ravens can make better use of the gralloch than I can.” Indeed, a couple of them were already circling expectantly overhead. “But the meat, the bones, the pelt, the antlers – I use all of those, or sell them to someone who will. Here, can you give me a hand? We need to shift it a bit so the head’s pointing downhill.”

Together they took hold of the stag’s back legs and repositioned it on the slope. Roan took a couple of glass jars wrapped in cloth from her field satchel, drew her knife again, and made a deep cut where the neck met the chest. Asta drew back a fraction, wide-eyed, as Roan filled the jars with the stag’s blood, screwed the lids on tightly, and set them aside while she waited for the rest to drain away into the snow, wisps of steam rising gently where red met white.

“What are you going to do with the blood?” asked Asta, managing not to stammer as the salty, metallic smell reached her nostrils.

“Black pudding,” said Roan succinctly. She waited until the bleeding had stopped before she wiped the knife blade on a clean cloth and placed the point against the carcass’s neck once again. She paused. “You… don’t have to watch this next part. If you don’t want to.”

“I… We’ll see.”

“All right…”

She successfully watched in something resembling calm interest as Roan made a thin slice along the neck and tied off the stag’s gullet – “You don’t want stuff spilling out of there.” – but had to retreat back to the other side of the boulder after the first cut along the belly.

When Roan came back for her a while later, it was to find her curled up in a ball behind the rock, breathing heavily with her head almost between her knees.

“Sorry,” mumbled Asta without looking up. “I’ll – I’ll be better about it the next time. Is it finished?”

“Aye, it’s finished.” Roan knelt beside her and reached beneath the heavy cloak to rub her back until she could stand without her stomach trying to escape out of her mouth. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You all right?”

Asta swallowed hard, but nodded. “Yes. I – I think so. I’m just…” She took her hat off to run her fingers back through her hair. “Just not used to it yet, I suppose.”

Roan nodded and gave her a quick, enveloping hug before she laid an arm around her shoulders instead. “C’mon – we’ll need Pardus to get the carcass back to camp, before the ravens decide they’d rather have the meat instead.”

“I don’t – I don’t think it was just the sight of it,” said Asta once they had the stag trussed up and tied securely over Pardus’s back. She carefully avoided looking at the ravens, who were now happily playing tug-of-war with… She would rather not think about what they were using.

“No?” said Roan as she cleaned the arrow and tucked it back into the long quiver on her belt, before unstringing her bow and tying it across her back.

Asta shook her head and wound Pardus’s reins around one hand. “Well – it was, partly. Whatever violence I’ve seen in the past, intestines were never involved. Fish notwithstanding.” Roan averted her eyes and became very interested in the point of her spear. “Maybe if I’d spent more time watching fights in the Arena back in Kiraan… But I think more of it was the smell of blood. Smell is linked to memory, very strongly linked, and it brought back some bad ones. Of my one day at Castle MacArra, and that night Daro tried to take me back there.”

Roan took her free hand, interlacing their fingers, and clasped it tightly. Asta sighed, nodded, and without speaking they began the long walk back to the old burial cairn.

They got there a little after dark. Asta sat down on their bedroll against one wall and, while Roan butchered the previous day’s ptarmigan – already plucked and cleaned – to roast over the campfire, quietly looked over all the notes she had made of wards and runic arrays that might be of use in the field. Some already had been; the stag was outside in the snow, warded to repel scavengers and parasites, and a few extra runes to the wards Roan had placed across the entrance to keep out unwanted visitors meant that they worked to keep the warmth in as well.

“It’s a wee bit weird we haven’t seen any reindeer yet,” said Roan as they ate. “Like I said, there’s usually plenty of them up here around now. Not that we’ll need another big kill after the stag.”

“Maybe something scared them off,” said Asta without looking up from her plate.

“Could be. But I’ve got no idea what – we’ve seen no sign of bears or wolves, and there’s not much else that would scare off a full herd’s worth of reindeer, not in this part of the world. Haven’t seen many other deer, either, but I suppose most of them stay in the forests in winter.”

Asta just nodded absently. They cleaned the plates, washed up in the pond as quickly as possible, and turned in for the night.

For a long, long while, Asta just lay on her side watching the fire die down. Roan was already asleep, curled around Asta with one arm draped over her waist, her body warm against her back and her slow, even breath gently stirring her hair. Not surprising; she had done a lot more that day, after all. But then, she did a lot more every day.

The flames were long gone, leaving only a few red glints among the white ashes. Their little camp was quiet, with only their breathing and the faint sound of the waterfall outside breaking the silence.

With trembling breath, Asta pinched the bridge of her nose hard, trying to drive off the familiar prickle growing in the corners of her eyes. Slowly, as lightly and quietly as she could, she lifted Roan’s arm from over her and crept from under the blankets and out of the chamber. She didn’t go far; just to the end of the entrance passageway, where she sat down on the bare stone and gazed out at the dark. It was snowing again, with big, fluffy flakes drifting gently down, but there were enough gaps in the clouds for a few thin, weak shafts of moonlight to break through. A wolf howled to its pack somewhere in the far distance.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there alone, the cold air nipping at the tear-tracks on her face, before footsteps padded softly along the passage behind her and the heavy wool-and-fur cloak settled around her shoulders.

Roan knelt at her back. “Are you all right?”

Asta scrubbed the tears away before Roan could see them. “Yes. No. Maybe. Sort of? I don’t know.”

“…Well, I think that covers all the possibilities.”

Asta snorted and bowed her head, curling up in a ball where she sat and digging her fingers into her forehead. “I’m completely out of my depth, Roan. I – I thought if I came up here with you I could find some way to pull my own weight, but I’m just… I’m as useless as I ever was.”

“Asta…”

“This is your world. The one you were born and grew up in. You know how to navigate the hills and track your prey, where to shoot so they don’t suffer, how to prepare a carcass afterwards – and I can’t even bear to watch you do it. I have nothing to contribute out here. I can read. That’s my one skill, the only one they thought was worth mentioning at the auction, and it’s of no use at all.”

“That’s not true,” said Roan quietly. “That’s not true at all.”

Asta continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “But if I’m left by myself in the broch, then I just… Then that’s even worse, because then I’m alone, and…” The tears were coming in earnest now; she rubbed her eyes with the heels of both hands to no effect. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. I didn’t used to be so, so fragile and afraid of everything. Not before I lost my parents, and everything in my life went with them – but what right do I have to be like this, when other people living under slavery have been put through so, so much worse than I was? Having you with me makes the rest of the world easier to face, but – gods, I don’t know what you see in me.”

“Asta, I-” Roan broke off with a sigh. “Please, come back inside where it’s warm,” she said. “We can stoke the fire back up and put the kettle on.”

Asta wiped her eyes. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

“I’m not good at talking about feelings, never really have been, but no. I’m trying to stop you from catching your death out here, and to buy myself some time to think before I say the wrong thing by accident.” She held out her hand.

Asta closed her eyes for a few moments before she took it and let Roan pull her to her feet and lead her back inside. She sat on their bedroll again, her back to the wall, as Roan added more wood to the fire, coaxed it back up into a proper flame, and set their little copper kettle on a tripod above it before she sat down next to Asta. She said nothing until it began to whistle as it boiled, and she poured out the water for two mugs of soothing herbal tea.

“You say you don’t know what I see in you,” she said, cupping her hands around her mug. “Maybe that’s my fault. I try to show you how I feel but I don’t talk about it. Not as much as I should.” She paused to take a sip. “Well – I can’t say there was any one big thing that made me stop and realise ‘Oh, I’m in love with this woman,’ because there wasn’t – there were a lot of wee things. Among them being that however fragile you think you are, you’re the strongest person I know. Maybe you’re damaged, but you aren’t broken. I don’t think you would ever have escaped from Castle MacArra if you were.” She laid one hand on the small of Asta’s back. “I hate that this was done to you. I do. I don’t think I’ll ever fully make my peace with it, or how it still makes you cry in dark moments sometimes. But don’t ever believe I think less of you for it.”

Asta looked at her tea.

“And ‘useless’ – no. Maybe you don’t have all the same skills that I do, and maybe a bunch of slavers didn’t think they were marketable, but that isn’t at all the same as not having any. Do you have any idea how much easier it’s been to live at Dun Ardech since you came back? And I don’t just mean from having an extra pair of hands around. All the spells you know, all the runes and wards I’d never even heard of – you know more about magic from two years of living in Stormhaven watching and reading about it than I’ve picked up in my entire life of having it. You remember everything you learn about, and you know how to make all the wee changes that make spells designed for a wizard school work out in our broch where you don’t have all the Constructists’ tools to work with and they have to stand up to the full blast of a northern winter gale. Without you I would’ve just had to hang a blanket over the door to keep it warm in here, and stash the deer up a tree or under some rocks. You’re the cleverest person I know too. Not to mention, without Pardus I couldn’t even get a stag that size off the hills. In the face of all that, you think I care if you don’t want to watch a gralloching?” Roan shook her head and took another sip. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do, because it’s not a view I’ll ever get tired of.”

Asta tapped her mug with her nails and leant against Roan’s side. Her tears had dried, leaving a faint glitter of salt on her face, but her breath still quivered a little. “I saw a mind-healer when I was in Stormhaven. They assign one to all of the escapees that make it there. In case they need to talk. But I don’t think she was the right one. She didn’t… I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. I know you don’t have her training and I can’t expect you to take on her work, but… You were there. You know what happened. You know me. It feels… more real, coming from you.”

“We could try to find you another. Another healer, I mean. There must be some in Duncraig.”

Asta drank her tea. “Maybe. Maybe.”

“If you think it would help you. Whether I’ve said it aloud or not, you mean the world to me, and if being near me makes that world less frightening for you, it doesn’t matter to me how useful you are. Believe it or not, I do enjoy just having your company.” She sighed again, set her mug aside, and stirred the base of the fire with a stick. “As for the part about not having the right… If you’ve broken your wrist, does knowing someone else has lost their arm make you heal faster?”

“I… suppose it doesn’t.”

Roan spread both her hands out. “All right, then.”

Asta closed her eyes and slipped one arm around Roan’s waist. “Thank you.”

Roan kissed the top of her head and returned her hug. “I’ve… never spoken about this to anyone, but when I was wee – four, maybe five years old – I had terrible nightmares all the time. Dreams about fire, and darkness, and this horrible sense of weight. Eventually it got so bad that I started throwing tantrums before every bedtime, I was that desperate to stay awake, and Granda sat me down to try and talk through what was scaring me so badly. His theory was that… even though I’d only been a babe in arms when our family was killed, there was some bit at the back of my mind that could remember the attack on our steading, and it was coming out in my dreams. So…” She reached inside the collar of her tunic and drew out an off-white object, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, on a long leather cord around her neck. “He made this for me.” She lifted the cord from over her head and handed the object to Asta. Still warm from her body heat, it was a stylised little carving of a wolf, sitting up with its ears pricked and its tail curled over its paws.

“It’s beautiful,” said Asta, holding it cupped in both hands. “What’s it made from?”

“A whale’s tooth he found on the beach one day. You see… The people of the fjords up north believe that everyone has a guardian spirit, one that takes the form of an animal and accompanies you throughout your life, unseen and unheard but there all the same. Some people call it their follower or their companion, or sometimes just their nature. Not everybody finds out what they have, but Granda’s was the wolf.” She stroked the fur around Asta’s shoulders. “He said that until I found my own follower, his could look after both of us, and that having the statue would help it to find me and keep away the nightmares. I don’t know if he really believed it or if it was just something he said to make a wee girl less scared of the dark, but either way it helped. I don’t always carry it with me any more, but I like to have it along when I’m out in the wilderness.”

“What do you think yours is?” asked Asta. “Your follower.”

Roan smiled and ran her left hand over her sealskin cloak, folded on the floor beside the bedroll. “Guess.”

“I thought it might be.”

“You know… However scared you are, I’ve never seen you let it stop you. Not once, not when it’s really important.” Roan picked up her bow and turned it over in her hands. The main body of it was a single span of burnished yew, almost as long as she was tall, but the leather-bound grip at the centre was a block of some other wood carved to fit her hand and each end was capped with a tine of antler notched to hold the bowstring. “This bow was crafted especially for me,” she said. “It’s made to match my height and strength, and it has a heavy draw – it needs one, to make a clean kill for something the size of a red stag. I don’t know if you could even draw it. I mean…” She held up one arm and gestured at her impressive biceps, to a small but heartfelt smile from Asta. “But I could try to teach you how to shoot, if you want. Could have a wee lesson in the morning, before we set off back to the broch.”

Asta took another shaking breath and nodded firmly. “Yes, that might be fun.”

Roan retrieved her mug to drain the last of her tea and laid her right hand on Asta’s back again, briefly calming the little tremors that still ran through it. “I brought along that salve you use when your scars are bothering you,” she said as Asta closed her eyes and leant back against her hand. “In case running around up here was a strain on them. D’you want me to rub some in for you before we go back to sleep?”

“…Yes, please.”

“All right.” Roan brushed Asta’s hair to one side and leant in to kiss the back of her neck. “Salve. Bed. Archery. Then home.”

Asta slept soundly for the rest of the night.

---

Let’s draw a discreet veil over that, shall we?

Asta’s therapist suggested that she attend a few group sessions with other escapees. This was well-intentioned, the idea being that it could help her to build a support network with some people who could properly empathise with what she went through, but it rather backfired; hearing the horror stories that some of the others had to their names just left her convinced that she hadn’t suffered badly enough to merit being as deeply traumatised as she is. Which was unhelpful.

(Roan, however, is strongly of the opinion that Asta’s completely entitled to be traumatised about having most of the skin flogged off her back by a man who made it quite clear that he planned to spend much of his free time raping her.)

#az writes stories

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shadilver-week · 7 years

Note

If you need Shadilver prompts, since it's nearly September, how about something Autumnal? Given Silver's from the future (by which time the climate will be very different), and Shadow grew up on the ARK, they could muse about the change in weather together. Everyone's sad to see the summer leave, but Shadow and Silver watch with interest as the skies fill with wind and rain. (not the most original, but weather fics are my weakness xD)

GOD I LOVE THIS“It’s so strange,” Silver breathed, his eyes fixed on the discolored leaves crunching beneath his boots. His firm hand was wrapped in Shadow’s, who walked alongside him through the breezy woods. Together, the two hedgehogs traversed the forest with an intense interest, paying no mind to the orange-brown greens that sprinkled their quills as they passed. Truly, they might have been the only two who welcomed the sights - all their friends had traveled south for the weekend to embrace summer for the final time that year. The couple could have followed, but they welcomed the alone time. Silver continued his thought, bending over to pick up a curled leaf from one of the piles. “Just a few weeks ago we were eating ice cream by the pool. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”“The seasons still catch me off guard,” Shadow responded, stretching his sight high up to the top of the trees. “they seem to change so quickly. It was autumn here when I first left the ARK, though. I have a certain attachment to it. Back then, I was even scared of the wind; I had never felt it before. Weather fascinates me.”“I’ve never felt the air so cool,” Silver admitted, flinching so that he didn’t step into Shadow. He apologized for his clumsiness, and went on, “it was never like this in the future. It stayed hot year-round. It’s kinda’ cold for me, actually.”The ebony hedgehog flashed a grin, but hid it in his chest fur. “I’m sure you’ll love winter, then.” He stepped over so that their arms touched, allowing Silver to benefit from his body heat. “It’s a good thing you’re fluffy.”Silver blushed, and chuckled his nerves away. “You’ve lightened up a lot, haven’t ya’?”Shadow shrugged. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”They stepped out from beneath the thick trees to be greeted by an overcast evening, the retreating sun blocked by layers of heavy clouds. It wasn’t long before the hedgehogs felt something graze their love-locked hands, prompting them to stop and examine the sky. Their gazes then crossed, as if they both had the same question to ask, but all doubt was cast aside as the rainfall began to pick up. The couple winced as droplets pelted their ears and quills, but they treated it not as misfortune. Instead, their mouths shaped to smiles, and they drew closer - so close that not even the weather could come between them. Shadow’s hands fell to Silver’s hips, and as the albino grasped his lover’s muzzle, their lips finally found their rightful place in each other’s comfort. In that moment - during that kiss in the pouring rain - they felt as if no one else in the world could have existed. It was just them, their love, and the ever-changing climate. At least, so much was on Shadow’s mind.Silver snapped out of their embrace, giving his boyfriend a playful shove. “Race ya’ home!” he teased, lifting himself off the ground with his powers before zooming back through the forest.Shadow shook away his surprise, and narrowed his gaze before speeding after Silver. “You little-! Get back here!” the ebony one growled, sending millions of leaves twirling behind him in the wake of his rocket-powered pursuit.

#shadilver #alsfkkls thank u!!!#that was so much fun omg #mod dark #tiniest-jo

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himbowelsh · 7 years

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I'm not sure if you still take those so you can totally tell me to fuck off, but I have this prompt idea for winnix (cause of those cute baby Dick pictures): Canon or Modern, Nix spends Christmas with Dick and his family. Dick's Ma tells him all her favourite stories about little Dick and shows him pictures from his childhood. Nix tries very hard to suppress his heart eyes. They share a room and it's fluffy and warm and christmasy and Nix never felt so good during holidays.

AN: irl dick’s father died not even a year after he got back from the war, in june ‘46. he was out in nixon at the time, and rushed home as soon as he heard the news. since i want to keep this happy, in this story dick’s father’s gonna still be around. (fiction -- it’s a magical thing.)

He’s not really sure what he’s getting himself in to when Dick invites him home for the holidays.

They’ve been back home for over a year now, and most of that time has been spent in Nixon, New Jersey. Dick took the job as personnel manager in January. Since then he has met the family, won rave reviews, and proven himself to be Lewis’s father’s favorite son. His father’s new (much younger) wife flirts shamelessly with him; and Lewis’s sister thinks he’s a great guy. Dick is getting used to life in Nixon and finding his rhythm at the company.

In the midst of all of this, Dick has still taken several opportunities to go back home -- his home, all the way in Lancaster. He’s reunited with his family. He spent Easter and Thanksgiving with them, and celebrated his sister’s birthday. Lewis was asked to come, of course, but he turned the invitation down each time.

Dick is better off spending holidays there. Those are his people, the type of family who cooks Christmas dinner together and eats it around a warmly lit table. Nixon holidays are a rush of glitzy, alcohol-fumed parties. Dick wouldn’t fit in there. Hell, he would hate it. He’s much happier celebrating back home, and Lewis is glad for it.

Dick has his place, and Lewis has his. That’s what he swore by up until Dick presented him with a neat, cream-colored envelope five days before Christmas.

Lewis’s first thought is that it must be a gift. “You shouldn’t have,” he says; then he sees that it’s postmarked from Lancaster. “You really shouldn’t have.” His fingers fumble as they tear open the envelope, revealing the letter inside written in open, spidery print. “Dick, you got your mother to write me?”

“She wants you to come down,” Dick replies. Smugness exudes from his voice, barely masked by that boyscout charm that makes everything he says sound so genuine. “It would make her very happy.”

He can say no to Dick all he likes, but there’s no way Lewis can turn down an invitation from his mother. He knows it, Dick knows it, and he’s bet his stash of VAT 69 that Mrs. Winters probably knows it too.

Lewis sighs, sets the letter down on the table, and turns to Dick. “Well,” he says, “Guess I can look forward to a Pennsylvania Christmas.”

Edith Winters is, in many ways, very much like her son. She is tall and long limbed, with a long face and bright blue eyes. Her features are more delicate than her son’s, however, and instead of being red her hair is a mass of blonde curls fading to grey in places, pinned up on her head in a loose bun. She greets Dick with a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek before turning to his travelling companion.

“You must be Lewis,” she says. Her smile is almost an exact mirror of Dick’s. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that they’re standing on the middle of a train platform out in Nowhere, Pennsylvania, and that Lewis can feel his eyeballs freezing inside of his skull. He feels warm, and for the first time in a long time realizes he’s excited for Christmas.

“That’d be me, ma’am,” he replies, and accepts her tight embrace. His surprise must show in his expression, because Dick chuckles over his shoulder. Lewis shoots him a glare, but there’s no fire in it. If this is what a Mom Hug feels like, his own mother ought to take notes.

“Take it easy on him, Mom,” Dick pipes up. Lewis thinks he’s taking pity on him for one second before his friend’s lips quirk up. “He’s still got to meet Ann.”

That’s the moment Lewis realizes he has no idea what he’s getting into.

By the time Lewis is settled in at the Winters’ home, he understands and appreciates Dick’s insistence that they both get some rest on the train ride over. If he hadn’t had the extra sleep, he doubts he’d be able to begin keeping up with the lively, warm home atmosphere that is so completely different from what he knows.

He’s heard a lot about the Winters family. Dick never shared his hesitance to talk about his home life during the war; in fact, he was the exact opposite. He enjoyed reminiscing, and would often take quiet moments to look back on his roots. Lewis thinks he knows what to expect from the Winters home -- a nice rural homestead, with a barn and small stable in the back. In a lot of ways, he isn’t wrong. Dick’s house sits on a lengthy expanse of land. There’s a tire swing hanging from a tree in the backyard. The farmhouse looks almost stereotypically domestic, painted white with a warm glow emitting from the shuttered windows. They’ve got a trellis, real chickens -- they have a white picket fence, for christ sakes.

If Lewis feels a bit like he’s stepped into an alternate universe, it’s nothing compared to actually meeting the family.

Dick’s father doesn’t say much aside from greeting him; he is even more laconic than his son, and at first glance seems serious enough to make Lewis uncomfortable. Ann Winters more than makes up for her father’s reticence, however. Lewis only has to look at her bright red hair and lively blue eyes to know that she’s a chatterbox.

In fact, Ann hasn’t left him alone since he walked in the door. She pelts him with questions about everything from his life in New York to the war, and he can barely answer one question before she’s launching off with some anecdote, joke, or a new question all over again.

“Dick took me into New York City a few years back! We got to see Sons of Fun, and stayed at this really nice hotel. He even let me have breakfast in the dining room all by myself! I ordered pancakes, and fruit, and they put powdered sugar on it and everything --”

She talks more than his father’s second wife, and is a lot harder to ignore. Lewis’s head is spinning.

Even so, he loves her. She’s like a tiny, spunky version of Dick, and though she’s nothing like his own younger sister Lewis feels a sense of fraternal affection towards her almost immediately. Dick has spoken of her so often that it doesn’t feel like Ann is a stranger at all. He practically knows her already, and will tolerate her endless questions just to see her (and Dick, out of the corner of Lewis’s eye) smile.

Dinner itself occurs not long after they’ve arrived at the house. Lewis has never seen so much homecooked food in his life. The array of turkey, stuffing, beans, potatoes, cornbread, and vegetables could hardly rival the splendor of Nixon family dinners, but it’s obvious how much time and effort was put into making it all. Everything is delicious, of course; but the real highlight of the dinner is conversation. The Winters’ banter back and forth with a lighthearted ease. Stories and jokes flow here like alcohol back in Nixon, and Lewis (his own glass filled with water -- Dick’s entire family doesn’t drink, and Lewis made a point of respecting that) feels like a fish tossed into a completely different ocean.

It makes him sad, for a minute, because this has never been something he’s had before. How often had he longed for this as a child? How many holidays did he spend yearning for this warmth and easy familiarity?

Then he looks at the happy faces around him, and his heart feels light once again. It’s yet another of the many differences between him and Dick, but this is something Lewis can be a part of now. This is a Christmas present (there’s no better word for it) and he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He thinks nothing can top dinner, but inevitably he’s proven wrong. Afterwards, when everyone is gathered in the living room by the light of the Christmas tree, she does what is potentially the most Mom thing imaginable.

She takes out the baby photos.

“This is one of Dick when he was no more than a year old. The cowboy hat was a gift from his uncle.”

Lewis’s eyes flash to the grown-up Dick, glistening with glee. He can only look away from the picture for a second, however. He wants to memorize every last detail of all of them. This is a side of his best friend he never imagined he’d get to see, and it’s absolutely amazing.

“What a darling,” he comments appropriately, and Dick’s mother beams with pride.

“And this one --” She pulls out a school photo, showing a middle school-aged Dick with a truly regrettable haircut. “This was around the time Ann was born.

“He was thirteen when we had Ann, and she couldn’t handle mother’s milk -- it was too much for her stomach, you know, milk still is -- so we had to make her her own formula. Dick watched me like a hawk while I’d make it. Then the day came when he insisted upon making it himself. Wouldn’t you know, he did a very good job. After that he wanted to feed Ann, of course, and he did that well too, so he became officially in charge of feeding the baby from that day on.” His mother covers her mouth with her hand as she chuckles. “He was so proud of himself!”

“Less proud when Ann would spit up on me, though,” Dick pipes up from where he’s lounged on the couch, leaning into Lewis’s side. From her seat under the Christmas tree, Ann makes a disgruntled noise. “It’s true!”

“I don’t do that now, of course,” Ann hastens to amend, sounding very self-important.

Her father raises an eyebrow. “I should hope not. Please don’t start, or we can make you very comfortable sleeping in the barn.”

Lewis snorts, and doesn’t bother covering it up. It turns out that Dick’s father is as funny as him, in that same quiet, unexpected way. They have the same sense of dry humor, though Nix has discovered the elder Winters’s unexpected proclivity for puns. For such a serious-looking guy, it’s completely unexpected. Lewis loves it.

Dick’s mother flips to another photo, and Lewis feels his heart catch in his throat. Dick can be no more than five in this one, sitting on his front porch with his elbows braced on his knees. There’s an impish grin on his face, revealing a gaping hole where his front tooth ought to be.

“Dick, what a little cad you were,” he remarks. Dick elbows him in the side, hard enough to make Lewis chuckle and nudge him back.

When he leans over to take a look at the picture, Dick’s chin winds up resting on Lewis’s shoulder. “Oh, I remember that! We tried everything to get that stubborn tooth out. The apple, the towel, and --”

“The doorframe,” both of Dick’s parents chime at the same time. Ann snickers, and Dick’s face flushes a charming red. “We remember.”

“Blood everywhere,” Dick’s father says. “It was awful.”

Ann perks up. “Sounds neat.”

“Awful,” her father reiterates, not seeming at all surprised by his daughter’s interest. “Dick cried for an hour --”

“It wasn’t a hour,” protests Dick, sounding disgruntled. Lewis has to stifle a laugh when he realizes that his friend is actually pouting.

“He was a crybaby,” Ann sing-songs. “Even after I was born. I never cried half as much as him.”

“I wasn’t a crybaby!”

“You were, darling, a bit,” Dick’s mother replies -- and presses a kiss to his temple before he can protest. “It’s alright, you were a very sensitive child! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Lewis has never had this -- the easy affection, the teasing, the childhood pictures and stories looked back at with such fondness. That familiar melancholy returns to him, but it is mixed with something warm. It is impossible to feel alone in this environment. Dick grew up in the loving household Lewis never knew. Compared to a farmboy, the son of a millionaire is privileged in many ways; but it’s obvious that in this area, Dick is the one who struck gold.

Lewis couldn’t imagine a nicer way to spend Christmas. He presses a bit closer into Dick’s side, hoping his friend can understand how grateful he is to have been invited here.

If the tiny smile on Dick’s face is any indication, he understands.

#winnix #richard winters #lewis nixon #i clUNG to dick's biography while writing this #his father actually wrote 'we have to be PARENTroopers to a PARAtrooper' he was a total dad joke guy #also i love ann winters can you tell #my writing #Anonymous

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falconerelectronics · 5 years

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Snow Day Activities- FEI’s Top 10

Are you like us and live in an area where winter lasts ¾ of the year while summer lasts 3 days? Do you need a way to entertain yourself and your family when there is snow past your knees? We have some of the best Snow Day entertainment ideas right here for you! We have given each activity a Risk Level and a Fun Level. These may help you decide which is the right activity for you!

Sledding/ Tubing

Risk Level: 2 Fun Level: 9-10

Yes, we know everyone that has ever lived anywhere with snow knows about Sledding and Tubing. However, that is exactly why it needs to be on our list! You don’t mess with a classic family time event.

What are the dangers of Sledding? Why is its Risk Level a 2 and not a 1? Well, there is always the possibility of falling off of your sled. There is also the possibility of outside forces derailing you off of your sled. Like pets. Dogs love to chase things. Sleds are no different. However, if this does happen there is fluffy snow to catch you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJxPs_WvmOM

Building a Snowman

Risk Level: 3 Fun Level: 9

Do you want to build a Snowman? Ok, now you have that song stuck in your head. Apologies. Anyone with small children has been asked this question. As soon as there is snow on the ground Snowmen are usually one of the first thoughts. Even in the Southern states when they get more than an inch, the first thing people want to do is go out and create Frosty look-a-likes.

What're the risks of creating these round beings? Well, depending on how large you roll your snow, there is a risk of hurting yourself while lifting the pieces into place. Also, who hasn’t had the intent to build a snowman and it turned into a snowball fight? However, we are getting ahead of ourselves. Therefore, we will discuss the risks of that activity coming up.

Why didn’t we give this classic a full 10 for a fun level? Any parent who has had the intention of building a Snowman with their children knows that about halfway through the process the kids are no longer invested. They get cold and want to go inside. Also, they suddenly have to go to the bathroom. Therefore, you as the responsible parent, who thought this would be a great memory, are left finishing the Snowman alone. You could just leave a half-finished Snowman. However, every time you look outside and see two giant snowballs just sitting in your yard you will think about how you didn’t finish it.

Snowball Fights

Risk Level: 9-10 Fun Level: 7-8

Snowball fights can be some of the most fun kids or adults can have in winter. They can also be the most dangerous. In movies, you always see these light fluffy snowballs that explode in a puff on contact. Real life snowballs are not like this.

The best snowballs come from the perfect snow. Here we call it “packing snow”. Why packing snow? Due to its consistency packing snow holds together perfectly for creating snowballs and other snow creations. It is sturdier than the light fluffy snow that gets blown about by a strong breeze. However, because of this sturdy nature packing snow can cause some issues.

The risk of a snowball fight with the perfect packing snow is pretty high. Think about getting hit in the face with a solid ball of snow. That is what packing snow is like. Also, if you hold it in your hands a few extra seconds while smoothing it out it can start to solidify almost like ice. Not that anyone would ever intentionally throw an ice ball… especially not at their older siblings… especially not after they had just been pelted in the back of the head. No one would do that on purpose…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NgnWyVmAQE

Snow Day Maze

Risk level: 2 Fun Level: 7-8

A Snow Maze is the safer alternative to a Snow Fort. Unfortunately, Snow Forts have a tendency to collapse and can cause serious injury. However, a Snow Maze is just pathways and if they fall over you may just get snow in your boots.

You can get the entire family involved in this activity. You can all create different paths and follow them to reach each other. Also, you can each have your own style of path. One person can use a shovel. Another can just use their footprints. A more motivated person can crawl and create their pathways. A Snow Maze can lead to hours of outdoor fun creating paths and trying to track them to a final goal.

What are the risks of a Snow Maze? Like we mentioned before, you may get snow in your boots causing your feet to be wet and cold. Also, if you don’t have boots on and the snow is deep enough you will for sure end up with cold wet feet. Another risk is the actual creation of the paths. If you are using a shovel to dig out the paths you could pull a muscle just like if you are shoveling your driveway or sidewalk.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HU-XcBjtqE4

Snow Day Scavenger Hunt

Risk Level: 1 Fun Level: 7-8

What’s a better way to enjoy a snow day than with a Scavenger Hunt? Next time you are out at the store, pick up some low-priced toys that can withstand the cold and dampness of snow. You could also use toys you already have on hand. While the kids are napping or involved in other activities head outside and start hiding the toys in the snow. It’s like an egg hunt but in the snow. I know some people reading this are thinking we’ve had egg hunts in the snow where I live. If that is the case then you know how this works. However, the only thing to remember is to know your age group. If you have small children make sure their prizes are hiding so they can find them.

Another idea is to create a treasure map. It can include clues that need to be solved and, in the end, they receive one larger prize. Some ideas for a final prize could be cookies and hot cocoa. Another idea could be a movie and snacks. If you have older and younger kids this could be a good experience for them to work together.

*Sometimes the temperature is too cold to be playing outside. In those cases, you need to come up with something to entertain the family. This idea can also be easily transferred to be done indoors. The use of clues or a map is suggested for indoor scavenger hunts.*

Snow Angels

Risk Level: 2 Fun Level: 7-8

Another classic that made our list is Snow Angels. This is another activity that is fun for the entire family. Also, you can get creative. After the Snow Angels are made you can give them different personalities by drawing faces or coloring them.

How can you color a Snow Angel or any other snow creation? The easiest way is to take water in a spray bottle or other type of bottle with a squirt lid and mix in a few drops of food coloring. This mixture can be used on Snow Angels, Snowmen, or any other snow creature you and your family can create.

Why is there a risk level at all for Snow Angels? Have you ever tried to get up out of the snow while wearing layers, boots, and gloves? Many face plants have occurred. Also, without some help, the Snow Angels could get disfigured.

Snow Day Ice-cream

Risk Level: 2 Fun Level: 7 Tasty Level: 10+

Have you ever had Snow Day Ice-Cream? Now is the time to try it. With three ingredients and a little bit of time, you can enjoy some freshly made Snow Day Ice-Cream. This is a tasty treat for a snowy day.

What are the dangers? Brain Freeze. If you eat anything cold too fast you will get that flash of a headache that will travel through your entire body. It is recommended to take smaller bites to prevent this.

Why is the Fun Level at just over middle level? Everyone knows that eating Ice-Cream is the best part. However, with this recipe, you get the hands-on experience of making it as well. Some people enjoy that. Others, however, are left asking if it is ready to attack with their spoon yet.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRN-1rhbEV0

Snow Cones

Risk Level: 2 Fun Level: 8 Tasty Level: 9-10

Much like the above Snow Day Ice-Cream, Snow Cones use snow as their main ingredient. These simple treats have been a staple at carnivals and festivals during the summer. However, most do not think about having them in the winter. Why wait until summer to have a tasty chilly treat?

All you need to do is gather enough clean snow and put it into ice-cream cones or another cup. You can add your own food coloring or flavoring. Get creative by mixing different flavors or decorating with the food coloring. However, like the Snow Ice-Cream, there is the risk of brain freeze. Eat them slowly and enjoy!

Snow Day Bowling

Risk Level: 2 Fun Level: 8-9

On a cold snow day, you can create your own bowling lane outside in the snow! All you need to do is flatten down and smooth out, like ice, a level straight path. At the end of the path, you can line up used plastic bottles or other standing objects. If you are using plastic bottles you may want to put some water or loose change in them so they won’t blow over due to the wind. Take any ball that is heavy enough to knock over what you lined up at the end. You could even use snowballs! You can also create score charts just like the real things and come up with fun nicknames for everyone.

What are the risks of ice bowling? The same as regular bowling only with the added elements of snow and cold. If you are playing with highly competitive people there could be some frustrations just like the real game.

Ice Skating

Risk Level: 5 Fun Level: 9-10

Ice Skating can be a fun activity for the entire family. They have devices so that even young children are able to skate without fear of falling down. Depending on how talented you are you may be able to perform tricks or routines while on the ice. This can be both fun for yourself and for anyone who is there to see them.

The risks are medium for this activity due to the dangers of falling and getting injured. Anyone who has ever slipped on a patch of ice can tell you that it is not a fun experience. However, with Ice Skating you know you will be on the smooth surface and can be prepared to steady yourself. This can be a great opportunity to teach younger children a new activity and get some exercise as well. Also, afterward you can have hot cocoa which is always a crowd pleaser.

#snowday

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