#i’m gnawing on my enclosure as we speak | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

messrmoonyy · 11 days

Text

-Sadie Adler as your gf hcs ( sfw/nsfw )

Sadie Adler x Fem!reader

A/N- I am in fact posting these out of pure and utter spite because Sadie Adler can. And will. Kiss girls. Because this is what?! Fan fiction!And it brings me an insane amount of joy that the sheer idea alone of Sadie being queer angers people. Sadie Adler kisses girls pass it on!!!

These are mostlyyy epilogue and beyond based Sadie pls lemme be your lil housewife

Dedicated to @queer-sadie-adler for being the true voice of reason lately amidst the hell hole that has been the queer Sadie discussions. You’re awesome.

Masterlist - requests are open!

• she’s incredibly protective of you. One wrong look your way and she’s ready to start shooting or swinging. Shes so a ‘ why don’t ya take a picture, it’ll last longer ‘ baby has some slight anger issues

• falls very much into the ‘ I hate everyone except you ‘ category. So stoney faced and ready to brawl with everyone, but soft gazes and tender touches with you.

• you hear her before you see her. She’ll ride back home to you after going after a bounty and proudly announce her return with a ‘ honey I’m home! ‘ as she rides up to your home.

• secretly adores the way you fuss over her before she goes out. She lost everything other than you in the space of like. A year. so it’s nice to be reminded how much you care about her. And that she has someone in the world to care about herself.

• she’s actually a pretty decent cook. And you can often expect her to try cook you something nice. Especially if she’s gotten onto your bad side some how, she knows a nice romantic meal will butter you up nice and quick

• I have this thought that she is just a nightmare to share a bed with. Girly tosses and turns and takes up too much damn space. But it just gives you the excuse to crawl up close to her and get comfy in the little space she leaves, falling asleep practically on top of her.

• and on the subject of sleeping. Has just the finest motherfuckin morning voice you’ve ever heard. Her raspy ‘ Mornin my darlin’ in your ear everyday makes you wanna melt into a puddle every damn time.

• loves sharing a bath with you. Especially if she’s been gone for a few days. She’ll make some excuse that it’s just to save on water. But in reality she just wants to relax and hold you close to her, feel your skin on hers to remind her she’s not just some angry bounty hunter. All tough and rough and fighting. She needs the gentle and the calm you provide her.

• hand holding. Forehead kisses. Sitting in her lap as you read on the porch. Just small, gentle acts of intimacy. The kind not discussed but well practiced between lovers.

• she can get in her head a little sometimes. She knows it’s not easy being in a relationship like that in 1907. And she knows that she doesn’t make it much easier on you with the works she does either.

• but she loves you wholeheartedly. And she knows that you love her just as equally. And as much as she feels she doesn’t deserve you, she’ll keep loving you until you don’t want her anymore which would never happen of course

•NSFW•

• she needs to be the one in control all of the time. This isn’t to say she doesn’t like receiving, or like having you on top of her. She just likes to be the one with her hands on the reins yk.

• in fact. She quite enjoys you on top of her or In her lap. But even so, know that she’s the one pulling the strings and she’s two steps ahead of you at all times

• she’s gentle and soft with you, but determined. Whether that’s knowing exactly where to touch you and abusing that same spot over and over again until you’re a shaking mess. Or telling you where and how to touch her.

• I said this in my last hcs but fingers in the mouthhhhh. Idc what anyone says. I see it so vividly. She loves it. Loves watching you suck her fingers to get them wet. Or clean them off.

• eats pussy like a god. Will have you seeing stars and thanking whatever Lord may exist for putting that woman right between your thighs. Sloppy and thorough and has you coming with her name on your tongue.

• thigh riding!!!!

• girly loves to manspread. Will sit there and pat her leg for you to perch on, but manoeuvre you to straddle her leg instead. And she loves how it makes you blush ‘ you’re a regular ol’ cowgirl now ain’t ya honey? ‘ as she leans back in her seat to watch you I’m literally going insane

• morning sex!! Waking up spooning with her, teasing her by wiggling your hips against her until she slips a hand over your hips and between your legs

• ‘ this what y’ wanted? Been dreamin of me honey? ‘

• will absolutely get up afterwards as casual as ever and ask what’s for breakfast. As if she hadn’t just had her fingers buried in your cunt.

• her aftercare is just so gentle. Especially if she’s been gone a while and has you coming for hours on end. She’ll praise you and hold you and help clean you up. Maybe drag you into the tub with her and sit behind you to wash your hair.

• and she enjoys the intimacy of dressing you so much more than undressing. Getting you comfy and cosy in clean night clothes before snuggling up with you in bed, letting you rest your head on her chest and tangling up your legs together.

#Sadie Adler kisses girls pass it on!!#I’m also writing a drabble/os on that thigh riding thing as we speak #gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for this woman #Sadie Adler #sadie adler x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #Sadie Adler smut #x you #fluff #arthur morgan #john marston #van der linde gang #rdr2 Sadie

95 notes · View notes

angst-is-love-angst-is-life · 1 month

Note

☕️the most egregious problem The Flash has is that it literally NEVER ADDRESSES ANY of the trauma it consistently puts Barry and co through, like it has other problems but I think that's the worst lol

1000000% and I will die mad about it.

Since it’s (always) on my mind, let’s take season 2 for example shall we?

If I had a nickel for everytime Post-Zoom-trauma just disappeared at the drop of a hat, I’d have four nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s fucking INFURIATING THAT IT HAPPENED F O U R TIMES

The four (for lack of a better word) victims in question: Caitlin, Barry, Jesse, and Jay.

Caitlin: kidnapped and held against her will for (I believe) two weeks (that’s putting it simply but we’ve all seen the show so🤷‍♀️). The show gives her one single episode to deal with it, during which she shows very real symptoms of PTSD— solved and therefore ignored and glossed over entirely with a single pep talk. I would also like to add that she showed NO fear of him in the season finale which makes no fucking sense with what the show established only an episode earlier. But tbh, this is the best one because at least the show ACKNOWLEDGED that trauma; if only for one episode.

Barry: Back broken during first encounter (among other severe injuries), humiliated by being dragged around the city to show he wasn’t strong enough to stop Zoom, confidence shattered from the experience. Like Caitlin, we got one episode to deal with this trauma and in that episode, Barry also showed signs and symptoms of PTSD (the entire season is evidence tbh). But of course, one pep talk from his dad and everything’s magically ok :-D !!!!!! I’m going to eat glass (also I will definitely make a post on that fucking episode because I hate it). As mentioned; he continues to have PTSD symptoms throughout the season but it’s glossed over so much and attributed to generic-superhero-stuff™️ that it really doesn’t matter. Gods, I could go on all day about Barry’s post-Zoom AND post-Thawne trauma. (Oh, he was also kidnapped, threatened, and {borderline} tortured by Zoom in the Earth-2 episodes; but that’s all normal superhero stuff ofc so it doesn’t matter right :-D !!! gnawing at the bars of my enclosure)

Jesse: Good gods where do I even start. Kidnapped by a known serial killer, tortured by said serial killer, repeatedly and (probably) constantly threatened with death, and held captive for around 9-10 months. Mm also, she was clearly terrified of Zoom every time he showed up prior to her rescue. Sounds like an extremely traumatic experience with multiple opportunities and instances to develop PTSD right? WRONG! According to the lovely writers; people are completely fine after a traumatic experience is over! What’s PTSD??? chewing glass chewing glass chewing glass. They didn’t even TRY with her, at least with Barry and Caitlin they pretended to give a shit about what they went through but Jesse makes two things crystal clear. 1) The writers don’t care about your trauma unless you’re an MC. 2) The writers put minimal effort into trauma if any; MC or not. It’s like they said ‘Ooo, we should have Caitlin kidnapped by Zoom!’ ‘Won’t that have some sort of effect on her? Being kidnapped is a terrifying experience’ ‘Ah fuck you’re right… eh, we’ll give her one episode ig’ ‘What about Jesse?’ ‘Who?’

Jay: Fucking. Hell. I ordered this in what I consider best handled to worst. Jay is by far— handled worst. Let’s see here *checks notes* Ah yes. Kidnapped and taken to a completely different Earth, an attempted theft of his powers, imprisoned and put in a mask so he can’t speak, {not confirmed but very likely with Zoom’s track record and somewhat implied} tortured, had his identity stolen and {likely} mocked and tormented about the subject, and the ~delightful~ cherry on top— held captive in this situation for at least one year. Fuck I’m so tired. Anyways; there’s not much to say. He got rescued (off-screen ofc), was able to access his powers instantly with no problems, and left to go back to his Earth. Trauma? What trauma? *gestures wildly at said trauma posted above* That’s not traumatic at all! *screams* I don’t care how much experience you have as a superhero— that doesn’t just GO AWAY! PTSD, FLASH WRITERS. LOOK INTO IT P L E A S E fuck I just remembered the show is over now ALL YOUR MC’S HAVE IT! EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Sigh. In the end of *gestures at said trauma* all that, Jay was just used to cause Barry more greif from his father’s death. Obviously he gets roles in later seasons but (as far as I can remember) this whole thing was never brought up again. Sigh.

I COULD GO ON

I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS

but I won’t cause dear gods I’ve been typing forever now

18 notes · View notes

bearhugsandshrugs · 3 months

Note

Please post another chapter of mutually assured destruction today if you’re able!. (If not though then no pressure! I’m just feral right now bc I love your writing so much lol.) chapter 11’s cliff hanger/suspense has me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure as we speak 😂

hahaha I am able but I don't want to :D I have just found a somewhat regular schedule so I'm sticking to that. I'm more relaxed knowing I'm writing about half a chapter ahead at all times!

Will likely publish the next one on Sunday. Or later. Let's see how fast I can get to 13 ^^

This week has been horrendous for me in my personal life with loads of crying and not a lot of sleep, so I am just relying on pre-written stuff right now. Otherwise I might have actually done it.

And don't worry I know you're just expressing love and support for the fic and I read it that way!!! Love youuuuu nonny and if you like, you can use this emoji in the future so I know it's you bebi 🌹

#🌹 asks #anon asks #M.A.D.

17 notes · View notes

the-cookie-of-doom · 5 years

Text

I’m not sure where this is going. It was supposed to be Stitch but it’s turning into Pitch instead, I guess?? Inspired by my love for the Hales having a wolf sanctuary, 100% best trope. Also practicing writing in present tense.

Peter is the one who finds the wolf out in the woods. It's big and black, with matted fur and dry white teeth that are bared in a snarl. He's dehydrated and starved, frighteningly thin. Unable to hunt with the beartrap around his hind leg. The blood saturating his fur is congealed and layered, and old wound. The wolf could have been trapped there for week, for all Peter knew.

He puts up a fight when Peter creeps closer, snarling and growling. A low rumble that would be a lot more intimidating if the wolf could lift his head off the ground.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Peter says, holding his hand out for the wolf to sniff. It almost bites him, but he's quick enough to jerk away. He smiles at the beast. "Looks like you've still got some life in you after all." Still, he won't be able to help the poor creature if it's going to try and gnaw his arm off, so Peter crouches down and flashes his eyes. They widen when the wolf's eyes glow an iridescent blue.

Peter frees the werewolf and carries him back to the house. Talia meets him outside, able to smell the blood before he even breaks through the tree line.

"What happened?" she asks, arms crossed over her shirt.

"I found him in a bear trap on my patrol. He's a werewolf." Talia inhales sharply, looking at the wolf - a omega - in a new light. She leads Peter around the house to the infirmary, taking out her phone to call Deaton while Peter lays the wolf on a metal table. It's so weak it hardly reacts, giving a pitiful whine. Peter strokes the wolf's flank, trying to soothe him and draw out the pain. There is so much to take, it's no wonder the were hasn't shifted back; eve werewolves can get to a point of exhuastion where the shift is unattainable, where healing is impossible.

Deaton gets to the house in record time once he hears that there is a werewolf in need. Apart from the dehydration and malnourishment, and the wounds cause by the beartrap, the werewolf has several broken ribs perforating his lungs, and 3 bullets embedded between his shoulder blades. Peter holds him down while Deaton digs them out, not that his presence is really needed. The wolf is too weak to fight. Mostly Peter is just there to keep him calm and take his pain while Deaton works.

They're all expecting the wolf to shift back a day or two after that, but he never does. A few days turns into a week, into two weeks, into a month. Slowly the wolf is nursed back to health. His black hair gets thick and glossy, he fills out so that his ribs aren't so prominent. He heals, but he never shifts.

"Are you certain he's a werewolf?" Talia asks two months later, watching the wolf - Sirius, they've named him - pace along the edge of the enclosure. They haven't yet introduced him to the other wolves, unsure how he will react. He's still so aggressive, the last thing any of them want is one of the wolves in their sanctuary to get hurt.

"Positive. I saw his eyes, Talia."

"Then why won't he shift?"

"Trauma," Deaton tells them. "I'm assuming he was on the run, perhaps for so long that he forgot he was human to begin with. It may take some time for the man to regain control of his more primal instincts, so to speak. I have a feeling that the wolf became a survival mechanism; the more he relied on it, the more it took control."

"There's nothing we can do for him, then."

"Aside from showing him that he is in a safe enough environment to relearn how to be human, I'm afraid not."

Sirius becomes a fixture amongst the pack. They keep him isolated, after an attempt to socialize him ends with one of the wolves badly injured. Isolated, but not alone. Peter spends much of his time shifted into his wolf form and in the enclosure. Sirius chases him and fights with him, suspicious and wary. Peter doesn't mind. It alleviates his conscience and gets him out of his chores. The wolf sanctuary was Talia's idea after all, let her do the menial tasks he wants nothing to do with.

The children are curious about him. The lone werewolf who won't shift. Laura, ever the serious one, taking after her mother, keeps her distance. She listens to her alpha. Derek avoids Sirius as well, not so much because he was told to, but because he has nothing better to do. But Cora, sweet girl that she is, never had a taste for the rules. She takes after Peter in that way. Normally he adores her for it, right up until he sees her out of the corner of his eye, sneaking into Sirius' enclosure. Everything stop.

Then, Peter is running for the back door.

"Cora!"

The little girl is oblivious to the danger, or perhaps fearless in the face of it. She is five years old and all of four feet tall, but she walks proudly into a den that is not hers, her big round eyes glowing preternatural gold.

Sirius growls, stalking towards her, belly low to the ground and ready to strike.

Peter runs, Talia and her husband following after hearing his shout.

Sirius gets to Cora first.

Remarkably, the wolf sits down in front of her, easily as tall as the little girl. She smile a big gap-toothed gran and wraps her arms around his neck, grubby little hands buried in his ruff, and the feral wolf lets her. Sniffs her hair and licks her cheek, making her giggle. None of the adults know what to do, whether to approach and risk angering him, or stay where they are.

"Cora, honey, come here," Talia calls. Peter can hear her heart rabbiting in her chest, can smell her fear. Possibly for the first time, he muses.

"No!" Cora shouts back. Peter could swear the wolf grins, pulling his teeth back in a gruesome smile. Sirius looks right at him over the top of Cora's head, and Peter thinks he can see an intelligence that wasn't there before. As though, slowly, the man behind the wolf is regaining control. Little by little.

#cookie writes #yes Sirius is Mitch #I was watching prisoner of Azkaban lol #poor Mitch is a v abused boi #im thinking he's gonna stay a wolf for a while but then kate come sniffing around derek #and Mitch is gonna eather #she's the one that kidnapped and tortured him #who he was running from #so he saves the hales #and wille ventually turn human again

21 notes · View notes

theoneandonlyowengrady · 6 years

Text

I’ll Never Leave You Again

Request: Hey do you think if you haven’t already, write a fic where the reader gets into a very heated fight with Owen. Like maybe they got in trouble at work, and he’s always overprotective of them and just doesn’t want to see them hurt, and they can “take care of themselves.” So Owen says something that he regrets, and he leaves for a couple days. Where he comes back. Something along those lines if that makes any sense? You can definitely shift things up, and add any other things in as well.

Requested By: @broadwayandnetflix

fluff | angst | triggering | violence [moderate] | language

Wordcount: 2023

We go through our lives always wondering if we’ll be happy, if we’re making the right decisions, or if we really matter to anybody or anything at all. You had things figured out for the most par. Happy? Yeah, as happy as happy gets. Right decisions? Sure, if taking care of dinosaurs and swatting at mosquitoes everyday was a good one. Did you matter to anybody? To your friends, your coworkers. To that goddamn Owen Grady, and if you were trying to be sentimental, to the dinos you looked after, even the raptors. Did you matter to the universe? No, nobody really does. But bringing dinosaurs back from extinction- that did. And you helped with that.

The island was humid and misty. Your eyes kept watering from the threat of a storm in the air and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. It was a slow day compared to the middle of the summer. Vacation days were winding down, visitors were many but yet still few. Screaming little kids were already strapped in on their planes and on their way home to suburbia.

The walkie-talkie strapped to your khaki shorts vibrated and gurgled. You reached down for it and kept your eyes glued to the throngs of tourists grazing through the streets.

“Come in, Y/N. We’ve got an irritated triceratops down here, scaring some of the guests. We think she’s getting sick. Might wanna come check it out.”

You laughed to yourself as a little kid jumped and pointed at the giant science building at the end of the road.

“On it, I’ll be there in ten,” you said, clicking the walkie back into its place.

The island itself was large, but the area really used by the park was small. The ride would have been quicker had you not had to fight for space on the main roads.

When you arrived, the guests had been lead away, and there were two other people there. One them was your friend- he worked mainly with the babies, and they probably called him since he cared for her when she was young and wanted to try bringing in a comforting face. The other was a usual ranger, somebody the rest of the staff would consider a passing-by face. He smiled a handsome crooked smile and waved as you approached.

“What’s going on?” You asked, your hands finding a spot on your hips. You squinted against the heat and the humidity.

“She’s been acting up lately. Go bad today, she tried attacking one of the spheres. Of course, the people inside were fine, just afraid.”

“Could be natural behavior for an animal,” you said.

“Or she could be sick,” your friend shrugged with a sigh. “Wants to be left alone.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take a look,” you said, rolling up your sleeves so they rested just above your forearms.

You slid through the gate into her enclosure, the other two men trailing behind you. She was big now. She rested on the ground in the shade, her breathing hard and heavy. Foam bubbled at the corners of her mouth, her pointed snout dug into the cool dirt.

“Hey, girl,” you whispered, kneeling beside her.

She let out a weak groan which turned into a muted roar. She huffed, the air leaving her nose like wisps of smoke.

You frowned, reaching out to rub her head. She flinched away at first, but gradually the trust she held a few days ago at her last check-up returned.

“She might have a little passing bug,” you said, “if she has it, chances are its going around between all of them. We’ll wanna check them all.”

You turned your head away from her and squinted back at the guys, their hands in their pockets. Your friend frowned and began to make his way over.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said as he neared, “you’re not feeling well?”

She cried out again and began to throw herself up to her feet.

“Woah, woah there,” you said, standing up slowly and holding your hands out, “it’s alright, nobody gonna hurt you.”

She stomped her front foot into the dirt, a cloud of dry dust rising around her. She snarled and huffed, the air from her nose warm and wet. You held up your hands still.

“Shh, shh,” you tried, “it’s alright.”

Your friend held up his hands and reached one out for her, his lips parted and head tilted back uncertainly.

“Hey, just leave her for now. It’ll just-”

In all happened within a second. He inched forward another step and the dino grunted and reared back her head, horns shining under the yellow sun. He dove to the right to escape her path and rolled down over a small hill.

You back up towards the other guy, your feet moving quickly and steadily away from the upset triceratops.

She huffed again and rubbed her foot in the dirt like a bull. She bowed her head and grunted, almost howled, in your direction.

“Go,” you said to the man, “go help him.”

He moved slowly and carefully towards the trainer, lying there clutching his wrist and panting. You held your hands up and breathed slowly, cautiously.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

She reared up again and charged. You waited as long as you could and then leapt in the other direction, towards the two men limping for the exit. At first it was fine and you scrambled to your feet, unaware of the damage.

As you tried to straighten yourself out, a stabbing pain ran down through your side and across your stomach. You collapsed into the dirt. A drizzle began to fall.

“Shit!” You yelled, “fuck!”

You clutched your side in a frenzy and pulled your hand away, your fingers covered in slick red blood. Your breathing fastened and you glanced back at the dino rearing and roaring.

“Dammit! Dammit, get out!” You yelled, struggling to your feet and holding onto your side, bloody and torn. You limped quickly to them, the new guy reaching out to help you.

“Go, go!” You yelled, grabbing onto his shoulder, your weight falling against him. Black spots danced in your vision, but your tripped along, towards the door.

She began to huff again. She reared and ran towards the both of you, head down, horns at the ready.

“Go!” You screamed.

The man ran and lifted you, nearly tossing you through the door as he tripped and fell down onto the other side of the gate. Your friend hurried to your side as the door dropped from above, slamming against the ground with a shake.

“Y/N!” He yelled as you laid on your back, gnawing on your lower lip to stop the pain.

“I’m fine!” You said, “I’m fine, just call for help. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

The other man grabbed his phone and began speaking, his words rushed and panicked. Your friend pressed his hands against your would, already covered in a fresh layer of blood. More people ran in around you, having heard the screams. You let your head fall back despite your will to stay awake. But you were tired.

So you went to sleep.

When you woke up everything was fine. You were sitting up in a hospital bed, your stomach wrapped up with fresh white gauze. You looked around, mouth dry and lips chapped.

“Y/N?” Owen asked, pulling the curtain around your bed open.

You smiled, “hi, Owen.”

He sighed and hurried to you, his hands grabbed your cheeks and pulling you in for a long, sad kiss.

“I thought you were going to die,” he said.

“I’d never,” you teased, laughing. But he didn’t laugh. His hands dropped form your face.

“It was stupid, what you did. You should’ve waited for more people or even just- just-”

“Owen,” you said, “I did my job. Nobody could’ve-”

“You could’ve gotten hurt so much worse,” he said.

“From the looks of things, I can probably leave soon. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” He shouted, standing up and running his fingers through his hair. He turned back to you, his face red with rage. “The big deal is that you make dumb decisions! You don’t think about me, or the people who love you! You only think about yourself! You could have died! Do you know what that means? You’re so immature and irresponsible and- and-”

Your mouth fell open and your eyes stung. You tried to shake your head, but your neck was sore, and the movement seemed impossible. You watched him. Watched his eyes, watched his face shift an his lips turn down into a frown.

“Owen, what the hell?” You asked, your voice breaking.

“I just-” he tried, sniffing and rubbing his hand across his stubble. He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. When he looked back up, he was angry again.

“Owen, it was an accident. They happen.”

“You don’t get mauled-” he stopped himself, held his breath. You looked on at him, watched his hands clench into fists.

“Owen-”

He turned away from you and walked out. He left the curtain open. Claire was approaching with a vase of fresh flowers and stood, watching him go. She turned to you, eyebrows crooked and mouth parted. You pressed your lips together and looked up to try and force the tears back down.

But it didn’t work. You cried.

A few days later and you were home sitting on your couch watching Friends but not really paying attention. Your face was sore from crying.

Could he have been right? Should you have waited? Should things have gone differently?

Your side still hurt, but it was stitched up well and you had plenty of medicine to dull it out. What hurt the most was the memory of Owen standing there, so upset, so angry. Medicine couldn’t numb that pain. You knew that fact well.

Your cellphone buzzed but you left it where it was, focusing emptily on the screen in front of you. Your legs were covered in a soft blanket and an empty carton of ice cream was strewn out on the other side of the couch.

The doorknob turned and pulled. Probably claire checking in on you again. She had brought you home the first day. She brought you dinner, then breakfast, then lunch. Then just dinner. She had called and texted you over and over again to see how you were feeling. Asking when you wanted to jump back into work.

You grabbed for a tissue and wiped away some stray tears that had fallen without you realizing. The door closed softly.

“Claire, I’m not hungry. You don’t have to keep taking care of me. I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did last week?” Owen asked, his voice gentle.

You turned to him, the blanket slipping from your legs with the motion. “Owen?”

He looked down and shrugged. “Y/N, I...”

You shrunk in on yourself, tears bubbling up at your eyes.

“I didn’t mean any of that. I didn’t.”

Your lower lip began to quiver and a tear dropped down and skipped along your cheek. You looked up at him, and he looked down at you.

“Y/N,” he said, walking over, “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t-”

You ducked your head, your shoulders bouncing as you cried. He made his way around to you and sat on the couch.

“I’m here now. I won’t leave you again. I was dumb and stupid and cruel and wrong.”

You fell over into his chest crying. He wrapped his arms around either side of you and pulled you close, into his warmth. You could hear his heart racing under his skin. You closed your fingers around his shirt and held onto him, crying in pain because of your wound and because of the hurt in your head from the last few days. He pulled you in closer and leaned backwards, bringing you on top of him.

“I’ll never leave again,” he said into your ear, pressing his face down into the crook of your neck. “I’ll never leave you again.”

#Owen Grady #owen x reader #owen grady fanfiction #owen grady imagine #jurassic world #jurassic world imagine #Jurassic World fanfiction #jurassic world oneshot #jurassic park #Chris Pratt #pratt pack #PrattPack

228 notes · View notes

shantalangel · 3 years

Text

Stories written on the wall of one of the rooms in the game Armikrog.

It’s about everything happened before the game, P’s parents life, how they met and how she appeared.

Reading sequence:

The Blank Miner. Part 1

The Blank Miner. Part 2

Tools, Weapons, Food, Plants, Medicine, Magic and Pets

A Meeting in the Woods

Punishment and Crime. Part 1

Punishment and Crime. Part 2

Punishment and Crime. Part 3

Desperation

Tools, Weapons, Food, Plants, Medicine, Magic and Pets

I found myself on a military base. The surface design was stark and open, leaving me few places to hide. The suns were just starting to rise, and with the forest over a mile away in any direction, I had no choice but to find a quiet building in which to hide and perhaps, get some sleep.

There were over fifty buildings, some teeming with activity, and others unused. I cracked the door of the closest building that seemed unoccupied, and went inside. The interior was dark. The room had row upon row of shelving; the only light came in through the opaque windows that let in a faint orange haze from the rising suns. Nobody could see through those windows.

I smelled food! This was not the mere gruel we were served in the blank mines; these were special items that were probably reserved for top-ranking military personnel.

I found the makings for a Chip-butty on the shelf. There were slices of bread, scrap gleaned from a fryer and deep-fried roots, ready to be combined. There were slices of dried, degreased cheese backed on flattened dough. It was stored on top of a big bowl of Kompot smothered in Camonadiac Curry. There was a bowl of guacamole made of Manocado and the usual boxes of Wexarodujo, and someone’s dried pet Benjamin Bango.

A tin can sported a green beard. I put this can in my pocket. When steeped properly, dried Spykle’s Beard mold makes an excellent tea. There was a slight glow cast across the shelf by Frotz-o-matic Elixir of Self-Illumination. I did not want to glow in the dark, so I left that on the shelf. I also chose to leave the gavno untouched. It is always good not to touch gavno, especially when it is cold.

A medicine cabinet held Groboh Juice, and while I could use some short term invisibility just about now, it was against my code of conduct to use a product created by the Groboh regime. I picked up a bottle of Minocent’s Majesty but it was empty. Just my luck. I placed a NummyNum towel on my forehead to quickly bring a little peace and comfort to my nerves. When I leaned my head against the shelf, I knocked over a potion of Palinka. Not really my thing, so I left the bottle where it fell. I took some Kayla medicine that helped my aching feet.

Further into the building, I heard the scuttle of animals in cages. Each animal had wires protruding from their body. At the time I didn't know why, but I'm sure now the wires were probably used to harvest the diverse animal energy. There was a Denrus, a Feure Katze (an orange, cat, useful for distraction in battle), a mated pair of Gelletsaur, and a Jivtone. A Novimus (also known as Novi) looked cuddly enough but didn’t trust me enough to let me pet it. One cage held a tiny, three eared rabbit and it was labeled Johnny Horse. A rusty cage held a Hungry Grumplin, and an elusive white-tufted bed devil. A wiry, dog-sized Soph-Soph ran in circles in his cage while a Flat Faced Tentacle Mane Cephala Kraken blinked his lazy eye. A spring-powered servant, called Judith Butler fed the inhabitants of the cages.

One animal was labeled Artimenius, and there were burn marks along the door of its enclosure. Next to it was a caged feral moon cat, who kept howling, "I am Oscarina!" There was a neglected cage of animals called Shtutnik, Waga Shnaga and Ramy. They looked malnourished, so I threw handfuls of food in with them.

I realized how bright the room had grown with the rising of the suns. If anyone came into this building, it would be hard to hide. I needed to find a place to hide, and sleep until nightfall. I pulled down a painting of a black hole, and set it on a Magnificently Monotone Mandolin. When I lifted the painting the triple M was gone. But there was enough space cleared on the shelf for me to lay down. I squeezed onto the shelf. A tool belt hung down hiding me. It had a Cheesefork, a Koolspott, an Eye of Asterion, an old Hobbyhox, two MacGuffins, an Oily Flogskin Croak and a Panic Button.

My eyes drooped closed, and I dreamed of a digital Renzim Set. In my dreams, I could see a floating Spatlas. Space never looked more broad and full of adventure than in that deep sleep-state. It was as if I was l looking at the altered light of an R.G. Ba’bomb. I found a pile of dirt and started digging with a Tectonic Universal Extractor (T.U.E.). Though I was speaking, my words were not being heard by anyone. It was like I was speaking into a Talebox, or perhaps I had been hit with a Procrastinator Ray. My hands were as cold as the Seventh Ring of Eureka, so I used a Tinderkrog to warm them. A Zugguz took me back in time thirty seconds, but I was just back to digging in the dirt . Something came down on my head with a loud SNAP! I reached out my dream hand and stopped a stick from hitting me again. I read the carving in the stick’s bark, "Derpal the Oddly Shaped Stick of 823 3/7 Whacks." This was weird because it only hit me once, and it did not appear to be very oddly shaped. This was turning into a less than stellar dream. I used an Ellerd to smack myself in the face and wake up.

When I awoke from my blissful slumber, the suns were going down. The room was taking on a cooler hue. I crawled out from the shelf. I reached into my pocket and felt the sock with The Abominate’s finger. I considered taking more weapons from the building. There were Karschtongs, a Marader (my axe fighting is terrible), a Novus Shield, an Obsrigillaton, a Sandwich Bazooka (I will regret not picking this up if I ever need to kill a sandwich), The Repulsive Shield and a Yarborough. None of these weapons could do what The Abominate’s severed finger could do in an instant.

Under cover of darkness, I left the warehouse, running from building to building toward the woods. Soldiers came in by hovercraft, then left again. The air was abuzz with frustration and panic. What they were looking for was missing. I knew this because what they were looking for was in my helmet.

Alone on the Outside

At the outskirts of the base, there were guards at one hundred foot intervals. Some had needle weapons strapped to their hands; others had rifles. There was no way I could make it around them without a confrontation. I gripped the sock housing The Abominate’s finger, and walked casually up to the closest guard. When he saw me, he leveled his rifle at me.

"Do not come any closer." He grunted.

"I have orders from Jockson Reckson." I said, holding up my hands.

The other guards turned to see what the commotion was about.

The guard didn't believe me, but it was as good of an excuse as I could think of on such short notice. I could see the woods just beyond. It would be the perfect place to hide. If I could make it into the woods, I would be free.

I yelled at him, "You must listen to me right now!" A bluff only works if you're completely committed to it.

The guard shined a bright light on my face, "You’re a miner? I need to see your identification."

I threw the finger sock to him and he caught it.

"What is this?"

"My identification." I replied.

He opened the sock and stuck his hand inside. I was already running toward him when he went limp and fell to the ground. The surrounding guards were confused at the moment so I scooped up the finger sock and ran for the trees.

The rest of the guards snapped into action. Bullets and darts shot past me, but their hesitation was enough for me to reach the tree line before any of them could take good aim. I reached the first tree and slid into the perfect darkness of its shadow.

"Fan out! After him!"

I pressed deeper into the woods, switching my headlamp on to light my way, then off to hide. Behind me, I could hear the soldiers coming.

I ran into a clearing, and nearly over the edge of a deep ravine. At its edge, I skidded to a stop. Behind me, there was already the sound of the soldiers approaching. I pulled the purple fuzz-ball, still beating, from my helmet and tucked it into my pocket. Then I threw the headlamp off the cliff and into the ravine. It was far enough down that the light was just visible, but the helmet itself could not be seen.

I ran to the left, along the ravine’s edge, over waist high scrub brush, and a few boulders. Most of our people were right handed. We wrote from left to right, so I hoped the soldiers would think I went to the right. Without the headlamp, I could easily have fallen into another ravine, but I was counting on luck this time. I only had a few seconds before the guards would come into the clearing, and I would have to move in silence.

Two guards broke into the clearing, and I dropped to the ground. I froze on all fours, watching them stop at the ravine’s edge and look over the side at the helmet lamp’s light below. My lungs were dying for air, but I had to breath slowly to keep from being heard. The first one said, "Did he fall? That light’s not moving."

I was crawling away from them as the second guard said, "He either fell or he’s trying to get us to think he fell."

They decided that if I fell, I would be too injured to get away. So they fanned out to search the area in case I had not fallen. The soldiers may not have been fooled by my trick but they didn’t have the confidence of their convictions on their hunt. They did not confirm that I did not fall, yet it gnawed in the back of their mind that I might yet be down there. Still, they had lamps and I did not. They split up, the first guard heading away from me to their left, the second right toward me.

On my belly, in the grass, I waited for the second guard to pass by. As he clunked through the grass he scared up insects and chipmunks who ran ahead of him. Just as he passed me, I hopped up and touched the back of his neck with the finger. He dropped silently to the ground. I stayed down low hoping to get out of the clearing and back into the cover of wood. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and it was practically bright compared to the darkness I was used to in the mines.

In the silence of those woods, every tree creak, every blade of grass that turned in a slight breeze could be heard. Yet I did not hear the hoof beats of the hulking white stag that stood before me! Jockson Reckson described this beast as a monster. It was The Eelk, a mythical creature that has evaded hunters for a generation. He had a huge rack of horns but he did not have fur like other Eelk. He had shiny, scaled skin that made him repulsive to his own kind. There is some supernatural way inside him that produces bolts of electricity when he finds another of his kind that he likes. Therfore, he cannot find love. He cannot find friendship. His family had to abandon him. He was the great symbol of broken hearts and by the looks of him, was a powerful creature not to be trifled with.

The Eelk bowed his head to me. The horns came down to my face and I could see tiny pops and ripples of electricity web between the spikes. I can’t explain how I knew this, but he was seeking revenge on Jockson Reckson. He intended to break the heart of my ex-boss. The Eelk turned and lept into the woods as if to have me follow. As soon as he disappeared into the dark I could hear the clamoring of more guards enter the clearing behind me.

There were three guards, they ran to the ravine, then fanned out. One tripped on the body of the first guard and called out to the others. I dove into a pile of leaves, burying myself in them. It would have been a terrible hiding place in the daylight, but in the darkness of night it would suffice. They all took off in the wrong direction, assuming they were on my trail.

Once the sound of their receding footsteps grew silent, I crawled out of the pile of leaves and continued to the right, after The Eelk, deeper into the woods.

It was then, in that darkness, that I was seized by a terrible loneliness. Truly, I was no more free stumbling through those woods than I had been in the mine. The image of Meva came back to me, but it was not a comfort to me. My heart was sick. Nobody loved me and I loved no one. I had seen hog-dogs that were more loved than I.

Would I ever know love?

Someone save me. Find me. Love me.

#armikrog #armikrog game #armikrog stories #armikrog lore #armikrog story #neverhood #the neverhood #neverhood 2

0 notes

tgr489 · 4 years

Text

A dancer, a developer, a socialist and a claustrophobe

How do you prepare for a lockdown? How long was it gonna it be? The government were saying 3 weeks, developments in other countries were telling a different story. How bad could it get? I’ve seen that movie Contagion, an eerily prophetic flick when viewed again post curfew one night.

As February ticked along we scrutinised our work plans, built our team and laid the foundations for a 3-month run. We had a couple of weeks downtime while we waited for details of our test group and preferred creative direction(s) we would be pursuing. Those weeks at the beginning of March were spent sliding forwards and back along the anxiety scale. The lockdown posed the possibility of being locked up in my apartment for an extended period and was troubling, actually deeply concerning. Squirrel and Lexi had been coming and going to mine as they pleased, sometimes together, often separately. We have a strange functional/recreational arrangement going on. It works for all of us, no one is under any pressure and we have fun. My fear was when told to isolate would they fuck off back to their respective nests, leaving me to fly solo in my own personal hells. The other area of consideration was that of work; it would likely be frozen for the duration! No work, no friends and nothing to do was/is one of my nightmares. I talked this out one night with Nic on FaceTime, who advised me to just pack up come home to New York, or leave for somewhere remote. We discussed possible remote locations over virtual whisky and bangers, planed our vast island retreats and who would be there rah-rah. Was fun talking bullshit with her, I miss her. I thought on it after the call, staring out of the window to Old Street and witching hour traffic, watching the last few stragglers stumbling their way home. I gazed around my place; it’s pretty big, so feeling confined isn’t much of an issue, no outside space to speak of, just a small balcony overlooking the courtyard, but there are a few small parks close by for any extended alfresco demands. It wouldn’t be so bad to stay here. If work got canned and the girls weren’t here what would I do? I can occupy my time well, but if I have months of it I’m really not sure how bad I would get. With hardly any of my effects here, I would be limited. Maybe Nic was right. After a restless night, I’d formulated the scenarios I was dealing with and went to my favourite local greasy spoon, the Shepherdess, for some artery-clogging sustenance. I sent out messages and put my fate in the hands of my friends. With a full builders breakfast in my belly, I went and lazed in the park with a cloud of smoke and waited for replies. it was a happy way to kill the time.

My invitation for the girls and Zac to move into mine were accepted, with thanks, and a caveat from Zac, his girlfriend had to come too. There were numerous reasons why, which I won’t bore you with, but fear and jealousy played the leads. We planned for the impending lockdown which was, by that time, inevitable. The mood was positive as we talked food, navigating each others’ preferences, likes, dislikes and allergies. The drink was a huge consideration point. How much do you drink? Be honest. Do you drink every day? Will circumstances in your life make you drink every day? Our drinks bill outdid food by 50%. Everyone thought I’d over-ordered, I wasn’t so sure. What remains now is like the back row of my parent's liquor cabinet and the random shit they bought for one person at a party which no-one else drinks. It won’t last long. I can’t see it go to waste and even though it may taste like shit, it’ll do the required job.

It was all smiles and laughter at the beginning. We cooked, ate meals together, played cards, danced, cried, talked and talked about anything and everything. An initial abundance of work saw us through the first week or so, which was nicely topped off by one of my neighbours getting carted off by paramedics because of Covid. That was a wakeup call to the seriousness of the circumstances. I was suddenly a leper among friends. I’d been close and spoken to the guy quite a bit the weekend everyone moved in, so my flatmates were understandably nervous. Fearing the worst we waited to see if any of us would develop symptoms. The claustrophobia of the situation started to gnaw away at each of us, culminating in Mel losing the plot one night over dinner, screaming in a panic her worst fears which we all resonated with, but hadn’t voiced. She fled to her bedroom with Zac in pursuit, leaving the three of us to eat in deathly silence. We cuddled up on the couch and watched the fading light through the windows, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted as we aired those fears. With some wine and bangers to relax us, we got to that happy place, and when our couple returned sheepishly to the proceedings we were all cool, glad that worries had been aired and shared.

None of us got the bug so we relaxed, resuming our daily hour of outdoor activity. TBH I didn’t really care at that time whether I got it or not. My reasoning was if I did get it I would develop antibodies so I’d be OK going forward. I was also busy enough the time passed quickly. We’d agreed we would front-load the work and capitalise on our forced enclosure. I think in the first week I’d worked 80 hours, the second even more. With nothing else to do (as in go nowhere), it seemed like the best thing. Zac took the same approach, although Mel was in two minds… while she didn’t want him working so much, she was enjoying the praise she was receiving for her project running ahead of schedule. At the end of our self-imposed isolation, and as a celebration of not being infected, we hit the town for a night out. With everything closed no decisions had to be made for a venue, so we stuffed our backpacks with goodies and walked into Soho. The streets were void of everything, save a few people enticed by the emptiness, even those sad bikes left behind because of lost keys or stolen wheels appeared to have been removed. We dropped Fairy’s and/or Special K, smoked up and drank leisurely as we roamed the streets reminiscing over the venues we passed. Retelling past escapades at certain locations as we slowly ascended the summit of alternative reality. As the evening progressed I felt more like we were in some lab experiment and were mice trying to find the piece of cheese. I had a moment of terror when I started imagining too much, about a huge hand coming across the sky to pick us up. It was short-lived and the only truly wobbly moment of the night. Soho became China Town, then Mayfair, Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Mayfair, Regent’s Park, Primrose Hill, Hampstead, Finsbury Park, Highbury and home. We were separated for a while, I have no idea how long, or if that actually happened but I remember it being just me and Lexi. Could’ve been 10 mins or an hour, I was oblivious, I just remember the others not being around and trying to locate them. I don’t even remember finding them, but realised they were back with us as we were climbing the fence to the Heath. We took the last of our gear on top of Parliament Hill (apparent highest point in London) admiring our contagion town as the sun came up. The last bottle of red was cracked and we swigged and toasted the morning. Once the sun cleared the horizon we were off again, this time with the purpose for home and recharged with the last of the goodies. It was by far the longest leg of the journey, on weary legs, our reserves depleting rapidly. By the time we hit Finsbury Park the drugs had worn. Conversation was reduced to simple questions, nods and grunts. There were people around, mainly runners and dog walkers, but a dedicated bunch was loitering around the Lidl (supermarket) as we exited the park. From there to home there was no talk whatsoever, it was just survival mode and everyone dealt with it solitarily. At home I made the best cup of tea I think I’ve ever had, strong and loaded with sugar, not something I usually take, but it helped. I showered for an age, cleansing the grime off my body, the sins of the night draining down the plug. No one was around so I took myself off to the park in the baking heat, passed out, the sun’s rays purging the remaining toxins from my body. I slept nearly the whole day. A night like that, wandering the empty streets of London may never happen again and I’m so happy we did it.

Weeks turned into a month. The project came to a natural break. market research, evaluation and QA blah-di-blah blah. The monotony still hadn’t set in, yet, and with the new freedom of no work we set about having some fun and enjoying the time on our hands.

Eating and drinking can take up a substantial part of the day, especially when you’re making elaborate feasts for every sitting. No sooner is breakfast finished and it’s time to start making lunch, always a 2-course affair of either entree-main, main-dessert, entree-dessert or if you were feeling really piggy, go fo all three. We all took turns to make our favourite meals, our signature dishes and ingenious ways to not waste any food. A month of this and I started seeing the signs of the reduced activity (when you can see it in the mirror, it’s already gone too far), so engaged myself in some cardio fitness routines and yoga with squirrel to keep the extra weight in check, I also began a running regime on the empty city streets. My neighbour recovered and returned, his gaunt grey face told a story of horror and had me reconsider my previous hope of contracting the virus. We sent them up a care package of some squash risotto and chablis. They were thankful, we made friends, they allowed us access to their roof terrace. Nice! This provided valuable additional space to hang out in because despite it’s cavernous open plan lounge/diner/kitchen/study, the walls in my place appeared just a tad closer each day. Our neighbours above, Shirley and Raymond, were/are a lovely couple, who fawned over us a little whenever we were on the terrace together. Inquisitive of our lives they asked lots of questions, posed some interesting ones for us and generally provided a good sounding board on the navigation of life. I would say they’re 50/60-ish, he’s in ‘finance’, she’s in the charitable sector (i.e. works for free to offset her fella’s evil deeds). Regardless of their ethical/non-ethical careers they are great neighbours and we are forever thankful for the use of their roof for the fresh air and sunbaking, the latter in full swing as the heat dialled up.

When the first wave of food ran out we ran sortie’s to the local Waitrose and Tesco for a re-stock, no alcohol at this pit-stop. Queuing for shop entry was a novel thing at first, it then became a ball-ache, now it’s non-existent, but I prefer this over the crowded aisles and stress-fueled shoppers. With the paranoid in society stockpiling essentials, we had to think on our feet a little more and buy basically anything which may constitute collaborative ingredients for a meal. The killer missing item for me was bread. I need a loaf in my kitchen at all times, it's my go-to snack with PB, and I generally try to keep a freezer-loaf as a back-up. But all that was left on the shelves of my local supermarkets were nasty paste-y white bread. Don’t get me wrong I will eat white bread, usually wrapped around a fried egg, some sausages and dripping with ketchup and Tabasco, but I can’t eat it every day, and we shouldn’t either. I found a local baker in Hoxton and bought a 20kg bag of flour and a tub of yeast with a plan to bake bread every day. This was a therapeutic, enjoyable start to the day, I felt so fucking righteous and wholesome. A week later I bought a bread maker off eBay, it made way more sense. I woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread every morning! The drawback here, it was small, so we had to make 2, sometimes 3 loaves, but one was generally enough to see out breakfast.

Work came back for a week-long sprint, I thrashed my side of this out in three 15 hour stints. Zac paced it out for the week, keeping in sync with his missus. We were all starting to disappear into ourselves a little each day. FaceTime, Zoom and Hang-outs became my good friends, bringing mates to me through the ether. I spent hours buried in my laptop, with a compulsion to connect with those in my life from afar. Nic and Luce were not doing so well, from an emotional perspective, and Kashie had fucked off back to Slavwegia as events were unfolding, and left them to it. Neither could get home or out of town and things were getting scary in New York. The landlord has frozen the rent ‘until a time which is convenient for regular payments to resume’, which was a very nice gesture indeed. That has taken the sting out of the situation for them. Harv had gone upstate, as had Jase and co. and remained living in a sense of normality. Friends in Asia were seeing a clearing through the trees, coming out the other side, there was hope. I even messaged my ex, just to make sure she was OK, which she's not, and she started to blame me for it. I took a few of her cutting remarks without reply because there's a bit of guilt with me so I felt I deserved it, but her continued little digs at me through our chat just pissed me off so I ended the call politely abrupt, wishing I'd never bothered. I spent the rest of the night stewing about her in moody silence, pretending to read while my flatmates played Monotony. My thoughts took me to the mystery girl of my past. Where was she, who was she, was she OK? why do I think and dream about her so much? it's doing my fucking head in. I find myself scanning for her whenever I'm out, which is harder now that face masks are in use, and plausibly a good thing to dissuade me from the madness of it.

Katje busied herself by running dance/yoga/cardio classes from our dining room via zoom, which seemed to take up a large chunk of her day. Sometimes Lexi would join in but mostly she was reading or binge-watching something. The fitness instalments provided a pleasant distraction from work, watching the girls in their ever-smaller clothing getting sweaty and flushed. I upped my running game as the effort reduced, pushing myself to pace a little more each day, capitalising on the time and solitude it afforded me. I also used the runs to meet up somewhere central with friends across town, have a distanced chat before continuing home. It was on one of these runs, as I finished at the river and stretched out in front of that Tate, I had a spark of an idea for a great campaign. I ran home through the deserted city streets, thinking, and the further I got the more I knew my idea was a winner, runners runners everywhere. I pitched it to a friend who‘s in marketing at Adidas and he liked the idea but needed something more visual to float it around their team. There would be legwork to do, excuse the pun, but with a fresh idea, I was game for it. I tapped up some of my new links on Strava then looked at the flybys on my longer runs into town to see who I’d been passing, looking for people who liked to run long and came from outta town into the contagion zone. Once I’d identified an array of potentials I roughed out a storyboard, sent it off and sat back to wait. The reply wasn’t long in coming, it was a yes!! At least it was something to take my mind off the real work.

I connected with all of my candidates then sent them each a message asking if they were interested in my proposal and if they were could we speak. I had 19 candidates, including me, and after my calls, it went down to 16. It was simple, run into central London and plan to run every street from the middle out, over however many runs we did through lockdown, tag the runs and post them on social. The first weeks running would give me the basics for a teaser video that would attract more runners and build a following, then a challenge posted on Strava for anyone to partake in. Each km run would attract a donation from Adidas to a charity. Running gear would be fronted to the challenge team so the brand would be visible in all shots, and their generosity extended to 2 pairs of runners, 3 pairs each of leggings, shorts, long and short-sleeve tops, masks and a phone pouch arm-band thingy. The first run was planned so we all met in Golden Square late morning, not too early to start and close enough to lunch so we could give everyone a drink and snack. It was without a doubt one of the weirdest lunches I’ve had when straight, all strangers, apart from me and the 2 girls, swapping our stories over energy drinks and bars for about an hour or so. We bid farewell and made our journey’s back to our respective pods. The girls provided some assistance throughout the project duration, which was about 5 weeks; choosing photos, involving themselves in some of the video editing and compiling all the routes from the trackers so we knew what roads had and hadn’t been covered.

The girls also got a crash course in digital marketing and how some of it works, which they were astounded by. Lexi understood but Katje was in disbelief, even with Zac and Mel chipping in, so I made her watch the Unexplained Truth on Netflix, that Cambridge Analytica doco thing. Explained what I know of facebook and how I’ve used it, Adwords, insta, blah blah blah, pointed her to a myriad of resources and explained how everything you see is targeted. Everything. She’s now a little paranoid, maybe too much, but it’ll subside. She’s all over facebook and insta for work reasons so kinda knows what goes on, but not to the depths the 3 of us were telling her. She said we were evil. On that note, I will pull on my cloak of darkness and bid you farewell.

Later Gators

#lockdown #lockdownlife #lockdown london #project #fitness #running #baking bread #bang to rights #strava #marketing #evil marketing #propaganda #Summer #my london life #self isolation #isolated #life of riley

0 notes

jaskiersbard · 7 years

Text

The Beginning of an Uncertain Future (Part 1) - a Newt/Tina fic

This was prompted by an anon who asked, “I want angst. Please. Maybe Tina leaving her family because of the war.”

This is going to be multi-chaptered to fit into more readable instalments 😊

So I kinda started to feel some inspiration for writing something to do with the war after I watched “Dunkirk” with my little sister, and I’ve been thinking about both Tina’s feelings if she’s sent off and the entire family’s too.

It was impossible to really fit it in exactly with any of my other Scamander-Children stories, but I did want to use the children I’d already created – for that reason, we’re saying that the story is sort of an AU/alternate pathway to what happened after “Lay Your Body Down”… This means that only Phoenix, Linnet and Leo are born. It could have happened in the following fics/in the place of “A Glimpse of Sunlight” but it didn’t…I don’t know if that makes sense. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Phoenix – 22nd June 1931 – 8-9 Linnet – 13th January 1933 - 7 Leo – 3rd March 1935 - 5

Set in 1940.

The letter arrived at breakfast on the Monday; the children were blissfully unaware of what it meant, of course, but their parents knew better upon seeing the official Ministry seal on the back of the envelope.

Newt watched silently as Tina opened the letter, her fingers trembling just the smallest amount, and he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He knew already what the letter would contain: Theseus had received one just a month beforehand, as had many others on the Investigative Team – knowing what was to come still didn’t make it any easier.

He continued to study her face as she read the letter, not saying a word; just a minute later, she raised her eyes to meet his across the table – and he knew. There was nothing to say – nothing that really could be said – and they were both all too aware of that.

It was Phoenix who was the first to look up and tilt his head, seemingly confused by the sudden silence. “Mum? Dad? Everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Tina said quietly, folding the letter and tucking it into the pocket of her jacket. “Everything is absolutely fine, Phoenix – go back to breakfast.”

Their eldest son looked unconvinced as he reluctantly cast his eyes back down to his food; Linnet frowned and chewed her cereal thoughtfully as she looked between their mother and father, whilst Leo merely continued to attempt to make shapes with the leftover crusts of his toast. The children would need to be informed, of course, but not now – not at breakfast with the entire day ahead.

Newt held back a sigh and reached for his tea; the day was coming, he had known, he’d been expecting it…but it still didn’t hurt any less.

News of another bombing in central London reached Dorset by the time Tina arrived home; Leo, being the youngest, was none the wiser regarding the war – but his older siblings had caught on by now, even if their understanding of wars were childish and uninformed.

“The paper said it was Germans,” Phoenix said softly before dinner; Linnet pretended she was interested in her book, trying to block it out. “They’ve been bombing the Muggles… Do you think they’ll bomb us?”

“No,” Newt disagreed quickly, not wanting any of the children to feel frightened. “I shouldn’t think so; London is a big city, Phoenix, with a great many people – we live in the middle of the country. I don’t think they’ll bother bombing the country.”

“What about the other people?” Linnet asked, curiosity getting the better of her now. “Grindywall? Will he try to bomb us?”

Their father swallowed. “Grindelwald. No, I don’t think he’ll try to bomb us.”

Dinner was a rather sombre affair, though none of the children knew why; they were intelligent enough to pick up on the fact that their parents were sharing oddly furtive and morose looks, but it was unclear as to what those looks meant. Even Leo seemed to realize that things were frostier than usual, and he soon took to pushing mashed up bits of potato around his plate so that he could avoid looking at the rest of the family.

After dinner had been eaten and the washing up done, it was time for the usual ritual of helping to get the creatures settled for the night; it was only once the children had raced out of the shed to eagerly attend to some of the various creatures that Newt gently slipped his hand into Tina’s and cleared his throat.

“We need to talk about the letter.”

“Yeah…I guess we do.”

He took a deep breath before speaking again. “When are you to be…to be…”

“This Friday morning,” Tina told him softly.

“But that’s so…so soon.”

“I’m needed, Newt,” She stated, avoiding looking him in the eye; instead, she found herself gazing out over the numerous enclosures and habitats, at the children giggling in the distance as they petted some mooncalves. “They need people to fight and win the war.”

Her husband hesitated beside her, clearly uncertain as to whether he should voice his thoughts to her. “Tina, love, it’s not that I don’t think you should be fighting, it’s just that…the children.”

“If the Ministry needs me to fight-”

“Our children need their mother,” Newt stated, sounding pained. “I know that it’s your job and your duty, and I don’t begrudge you of that – but the children need you, Tina.”

Tina gnawed on her bottom lip, seemingly considering this proclamation. “I know the children need me. I don’t want to leave them,” She admitted. “You know that I don’t want to leave them, but…but I can’t stand by while other people – innocent people – are dying.”

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as her words sank in. “No, I know. I didn’t expect anything less of you, really.”

“I’ll be fine, Newt,” She tried to assure him half-heartedly. “I’m not about to break.”

“No,” He agreed, and he forced himself to smile weakly at her. “I know. You’re the strongest person I’ve met, you know, even if you don’t see it… I can’t help but worry though-”

“Worrying means you suffer twice,” Tina quipped before squeezing his hand and becoming serious once more. “Newt…while I’m gone, the kids are going to need you to be here for them; they’re going to catch on about the wars sooner rather than later, and they’ll need you to help them. And…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “If something happens to me, then I need you to protect them.”

Newt couldn’t help but stare at her, wide-eyed by this sentiment. “Tina, don’t talk like that…”

“It’s true,” She countered. “There’s a chance it will, Newt, and we need to talk about it just in case it does. What I’m asking is that if something does happen to me and I don’t come home…promise me that you’ll take care of the children.”

His heart ached at the thought, at the very possibility that she would not return home – that she would be lost while fighting, never to return to the children, never to return to him. “Tina…”

“Promise me, Newt,” Tina repeated, voice harsh but also close to breaking – it was clear that she was only barely holding herself together.

“Of course,” He agreed, though it sounded hollow to his own ears. “I promise.”

She exhaled and closed her eyes, leaning in to lay her head on his shoulder; her hand was still holding onto his, and it was obvious that neither of them particularly wanted to let go. “Thank you,” He heard her whisper, clearly relieved.

The children continued to play in the distance with loud giggles as they ran about; for now they were blissfully unaware of what was to come, and that was how it should have been.

The night before Tina was due to leave was a rather miserable and unhappy one in the Scamander household; all of the children refused to sleep, and both Linnet and Leo especially shed more than a few tears at the prospect of waking up to find their mother gone.

“I d-d-don’t want you to go, Mummy!” Linnet sobbed, clinging to her mother’s arm desperately. “Please don’t g-go!”

Leo, meanwhile, had started to pull at Tina’s trousers as he wailed. “D-Don’t want M-Mummy to g-go!”

“I’ll be back soon,” Tina attempted to soothe them, managing to extract her arm from her daughter’s grip. “I promise, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Phoenix s-said…” Linnet sniffled and gave a small hiccup. “He said people d-die in war!”

Leo’s bottom lip wobbled again. “No! No, Mummy, no!”

“It’s going to be fine,” Tina assured them hurriedly, and she knelt before them so that she could look them in the eye. “I’m not going until tomorrow morning – I’ll still be here when you go to sleep – and I promise that I’ll come in and say goodbye to you in the morning.”

“A-And…” Her daughter rubbed at her eyes with her pyjama sleeve. “You’ll write to us, Mummy?”

She nodded and forced herself to smile. “Of course, I will.”

“Every day?”

“Well…not every day,” Tina mused, tucking some hair behind Linnet’s ear affectionately. “But I promise I’ll write as often as I can.”

Leo threw his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. “Gonna miss you, Mummy.”

“I know you will,” She admitted, and her smile faded away as she wrapped an arm around each of them. “I’ll miss you all too.”

She made sure that Linnet and Leo were both settled into their beds, pressing kisses to their foreheads and tucking them underneath their duvets, before deciding to attempt to speak to Phoenix; the oldest child had vanished after dinner, remaining remarkably silent, and she knew that it would be best to have a talk with him. She took a moment to listen as she stood on the landing, and then made her way to Phoenix’s room down the hall; she could hear voices inside, and she had a strong feeling that Newt was in there with him.

True to her suspicions, her husband was sat on the bed with their eldest son and looking somewhat at a loss; both of them looked up at her as she entered the room, and it alarmed her just a bit to see that Phoenix’s eyes were rimmed red.

“I think perhaps you two should have a chat,” Newt decided suddenly, standing up from the bed. “I’m going to settle everyone in the case for the night.”

“Alright,” Phoenix mumbled, looking down at his bed sheets miserably.

The door shut behind the Magizoologist as he left, and Tina found herself staring at her son as she wondered over what to say – over what she could say. “Phoenix…”

“I don’t want you to fight,” He choked out suddenly, and his eyes were filling with tears. “I know that’s stupid and I’m…I’m being a baby, but I don’t want you to go to war.”

“It’s not stupid,” Tina murmured, sitting down next to him and shaking her head. “Being honest, I don’t really want to go either.”

“Then why are you going?” Phoenix retorted, furiously scrubbing at his face to get rid of the tears. “Just tell the Ministry you don’t want to go!”

She started to gnaw on her lip, heart sinking down into the bottom pit of her stomach. “It’s not as simple as that, Phoenix, it’s… I’m going because I know it’s hopefully going to protect you: your father and I don’t want you – any of you – growing up in a world where it’s not safe. Do you understand?”

He sniffled. “Yeah, I do. It’s just…” His face crumpled suddenly, tears streaming down his cheeks without warning. “I’m scared.”

Her eldest son had never been one for crying: even as a baby, he had usually slept through the night and not woken his parents. His sister and brother were more open to expressing their emotions like this, but Phoenix didn’t – perhaps because he knew, as the oldest, it was his responsibility to look after his younger siblings and set an example. To see him in this way – so upset and clearly distraught – was more than enough to prompt Tina to move closer and wrap her arms around him.

“Oh, Phoenix… I know,” She murmured to him; he put up no fights, instead leaning readily into her embrace. “I’m scared too.”

“But you’re an Auror,” He stated miserably. “Aurors don’t get scared… Do they?”

“Of course they do,” Tina answered, smoothing down the dark hair on his forehead and trying to remember not to lose her composure in front of him – it wouldn’t help matters at all. “Aurors get more scared than you know…and I’m scared right now.”

There was a lot she was terrified of: she knew that she would see horrific things while on active duty, that she would most likely see her comrades and friends die in front of her. She was frightened of Grindelwald – everyone was, there was no denying it – and of what a Muggle-madman was doing to millions of people across Europe, people like her and the children who were Jewish or otherwise ‘undesirable’; there was the fear of dying, of being killed in combat if she took one wrong step, and the fear of being captured and tortured by Grindelwald’s followers.

Most of all, though, she was scared that she would never see her husband and their children again – and, really, nothing terrified her more than that thought.

She had saved her tears for the bathroom, allowing herself to take a moment to cry in the privacy of the hot water. It would probably be the last shower she took for a while, come to think of it, and she should have been attempting to enjoy it for as long as she was able – but she couldn’t help it because it was all too much.

Fighting was the right thing to do, Tina reminded herself, for it would help to save so many innocent lives and contribute to putting an end to this war – but that didn’t mean she was happy to leave the children or Newt, by any means. She loved her family with all her heart, of course, and she didn’t want to leave them – but the longer this war wore on, the more danger they would all be in. The children deserved better than to grow up in a world governed by hatred and violence, and she was willing to fight to make sure that such a thing never happened.

It didn’t ease the pain at all, though: there was no telling how long she would be gone – or, even, if she would return.

By the time she had gathered her thoughts, the water had started to run cold; she turned it off before stepping out and wrapping a towel around herself. As she dressed, she tried not to think about how distressed the children had looked that evening at the prospect of never seeing her again, and she tried to rid it from her mind – thinking that way would not help at all.

It's going to be fine, Tina forced herself to think as she eyed herself in the mirror over the sink, and she splashed some cold water on her face to hide the fact that she had been crying just moments before. Of course I’ll see them again – I’m not about to go down easy, for one.

No, she decided, because she would fight – not only for what was right but also because she wanted to come home and see her family again. She would come home for the children, she’d come home for Newt, and she’d make sure of it.

Her husband was still awake when she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her, clearly waiting for her to join him. She slipped underneath the covers wordlessly before wrapping herself around him in the dark; almost immediately he did the same, his arms strong and firm as they pulled her towards him.

“Do you remember the day that we first met?” Newt asked quietly, almost to himself as he held her. “It was outside of a bank; that Second Salem woman was preaching on the steps, and I bumped straight into you…you were eating a hot-dog, and you looked rather annoyed with me.” A brief ghost of a smile flitted across his face, only present a mere second before fading again. “The Niffler got loose and I chased after him: he caused more than enough trouble, of course, and you arrested me.”

“Well,” Tina said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You did break the law.”

He gave a small, hollow chuckle at this. “Yes, I did. Things escalated rather quickly, didn’t they? One minute you were pushing me against a wall, and then the next we were trying to find several of my creatures…”

“And then you were leaving,” She murmured, resting her head on his shoulder and laying a hand over his chest.

“Yes, but I came back,” He reminded her softly. “I promised I would come back and I did…I even brought you my book, just like you asked.”

Tina smiled fondly, though there was obvious pain behind it. “Yeah, you did.”

Newt paused, clearly thinking and reminiscing to himself before speaking again. “I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you again, Tina; I saw you waiting on the docks for me and…and I know this sounds rather silly, but I thought that you looked so beautiful, more so than I remembered – I wanted nothing more than to just kiss you. It would have been highly improper, of course, and I wasn’t sure if you would feel the same way…you could have had your pick of any man, really.”

“I can assure you I couldn’t have,” She told him sincerely. “To be honest, you were the first one who showed any interest in me and not Queenie… And I wouldn’t have wanted ‘any’ man – it’s only ever been you.” When he didn’t reply to this, she continued firmly. “I love you because you’re you, Newt, and I mean that.”

He was silent for a moment, digesting her words carefully and dwelling on them. “On our wedding night, I…I felt like the luckiest man alive to be with you, to be married to you. I know that you felt rather self-conscious that night, but to me you were – are – perfect; a part of me felt that I didn’t deserve you, really, that you could do so much better but…but I will forever be glad that you chose me.”

Tina had to swallow the lump in her throat at his words, forcing herself not to cry in front of him – she had to remain strong, she reminded herself, and crying would not help matters at all. “Newt…”

“That first time we made love,” He continued, lost in another memory of a much simpler time. “I wanted to make sure you knew how much I love you: I wanted to cherish you, not just for that night but for all of our nights together. I know that it sounds terribly trite, but it’s the truth…you’ve always been the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world to me, and that won’t ever change.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes; his hold on her tightened ever so slightly, bringing her closer to him. “You’re everything to me, Tina, quite literally: you’re my wife, the one person who I’m content to spend the rest of my life with…and you’ve given me children too. Three absolutely wonderful children who mean the world to me, just as much as you do. For that I’m so thankful.”

She had grown quiet and still beside him, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the hand she had pressed against his chest. “You’re everything to me too,” He heard her murmur. “You’re the first thing I see when I wake up every morning – you’re the only person I’d want to wake up beside every morning…it’s going to be hard, not to wake up like that anymore.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued on, voice trembling slightly. “I’m going to miss waking up next to you…I’m going to miss this, curling up at night together, miss how warm and safe you make me feel. I’ll miss being down in the case, being with our creatures and watching you look after them…and the children.” Her voice nearly broke at this. “I’m going to miss them so much it hurts, Newt…but I know that you’ll look after them while I’m gone. I know that if anything happens to me then they’ll have you, and…and that makes it somewhat easier.”

For a moment neither of them said anything else, merely cuddled together underneath the covers – and then Tina felt her husband’s body shaking against her own, heard him sniff. Before she knew it, he was crying beside her, unable to restrain it any longer; alarmed, she sat up slightly and took his face into her hands. “Newt…”

“I’m so sorry,” He choked out, and for a second she thought that he might try to pull away – but then he was pressing closely into her, holding her tightly as if she might disappear before his eyes. “I’ve been trying to remain strong for you, Tina, I have…but I don’t think I can anymore.”

“It’s okay,” She soothed weakly, though the lump in her throat had returned. “You don’t need to pretend around me – I’m here.”

His breath hitched. “I know. It’s just that I’m…I’m terrified, Tina; even though I’ve tried to tell myself that you’ll come home, I can’t help but think about what will happen if you don’t. I know that there’s no use in thinking like that at all, it won’t change anything, but I can’t help it – it’s constantly on my mind. I...I’m so scared that you won’t go back to us, that our children won’t have their mother; I can’t imagine doing it without you, Tina, I can’t…a-and I can’t imagine myself growing old without you either. Whenever I’ve imagined myself growing old, it’s always been with you and only you.”

“Oh, Newt…” Without warning, Tina could feel her own tears slowly start to fall too. “I know; I worry about that too, every day… I worry that I won’t get to see them go to school,” She admitted. “That I won’t…won’t see them grow up. I keep thinking about it, Newt: what if they have to grow up without a mother – without me? I know that you’re more than capable of raising our children – more so than I am sometimes – but I want to be here…I want to see them grow up.”

The thought of their children – three bright, beautiful children who she had helped bring into this world and raise – being without her made something in her chest twist painfully. If she were to be killed in action, then there was no doubt that they would be devastated and heartbroken – she was their mother, after all, and they needed her just as much as they needed Newt.

With this painfully present on her mind, she found herself burying her face into her husband’s side and allowing herself to cry; Newt’s shoulders shook under her arms as he failed to contain his sobs, hands reaching out for her. They sat together in the darkness, holding each other tightly – the last night that they would for an undermined length of time, and quite possibly the last time they might ever be able to.

For a few minutes, they merely wept together in the dark, the weight of what had been both spoken and unspoken hanging around them. The knowledge of their separation coupled with their shared fears seemed to unite them in this moment, for what would perhaps be their last moment, and neither of them wanted to let go – for letting go would mean moving on to uncertainty, to a future that neither of them could be sure of.

It was Tina who composed herself first, drying her eyes on her pyjama sleeve but not letting go of her husband even so; she could feel that Newt was no longer crying against her, though his quiet sniffles seemed to echo in the room. The very idea of leaving him – especially after so long spent together in every way it were possible to be together – seemed wrong and unthinkable to her. Of course, the idea of sitting by and not doing anything during the war whilst so many innocent lives were lost was also unthinkable – she had to do the right thing, even if it meant leaving her family.

“I have to do this,” She found herself murmuring, half to herself as she reached for his hand. “I have to.”

He inhaled deeply, allowing her fingers to thread with his own. “I know you do. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She could feel his warm breath ghosting her face as he shifted, leaning his head inwards so that their foreheads were touching. “I just…I love you. I love you so much…”

“I love you too,” Tina sighed, closing her eyes; his body was so solid and alive next to her, a familiar comfort that she would have to leave behind, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to feel it for as long as she was able. “Newt… Will you make love to me? Please.”

Beside her, Newt’s breath hitched and his hand tightened around her own. “Oh… Yes,” He agreed quietly. “Of course.”

Her free hand slowly reached to cup his face as she opened her eyes, looking at him tearfully in the dark; her thumb gently brushed against his lower lip, and it was obvious that she was steeling herself, forcing herself to remain strong. After a brief few seconds wherein they merely held each other’s gazes, Tina leaned in and tenderly pressed her lips to Newt’s. Beside her, his body seemed to relax a tad and she felt his mouth tenderly reciprocating; she could taste the salt from his tears on his lips, could feel his misery as though it were her own, and she wanted to forget – they both wanted to forget.

Their love-making was gentle and slow that night, neither of them in a rush of any kind – neither of them wanted it to end, for the end of it meant the beginning of an uncertain future. Newt was sure to press soft kisses to her body tenderly, taking his time to worship every scar and every blemish on her skin – everything that made her his Tina; there were many things he couldn’t bring himself to say, for saying them made the entire situation far too real. He was certain that there were things she was thinking but refraining from saying for the same reasons, and he didn’t push her to tell him – actions spoke louder than words really.

They finished together, in each other’s arms, and for a few minutes neither of them could bring themselves to move – separating would mean getting ready to sleep, and waking up would mean her leaving shortly after. Tina could feel his tears against her shoulder again, unable to hold them in, and she merely held him closer to herself – as though holding on would help.

When they finally separated, redressing in their bedclothes and settling underneath the sheets for what could very well be the last time, she pressed herself against his side and reached to take his hand in hers. Newt’s hand squeezed around her own, and he had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I’ll come back,” He heard her promise quietly, voice wavering only slightly. “I’ll come back to you, and to our children.”

There was no certainty behind this, but he knew what she meant – that she would try, that she would fight her hardest to return to them – and that was enough. His voice was hoarse as he responded. “I know you will. Don’t forget, Tina, please.”

“I won’t.”

They fell asleep slowly, pressed together and whispering reaffirmations of love as the uncertainty of what was to come loomed in the dark silence of the room ominously.

I was originally going to write full-blown smut for this chapter, but I’ve been super busy lately so I decided to leave it implied for this fic – I will write up a smutty-outtake story for anyone who wants it, of course!

The children will definitely be more prominent and focused on in the next chapter, not to worry!

There’s a second part, so hopefully I can get that done soon – comments and reviews feed my muse, just so you know :D

#newtina #tina goldstein #newt scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fanfiction #porpentina goldstein #Scamander family #Scamander children #my fanfiction #my writing #writing #phoenix scamander #linnet scamander #leo scamander #prompts #oops #angst

19 notes · View notes

imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Text

Mac Ruaidh - Part Five

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

“Da!”

Jamie raised his head as Willie repeated the syllable in various volumes as Sabrina approached the field where Jamie had one of the work horses harnessed to the drum that spread manure.

For a moment his heart lurched as the sun dipped behind a cloud and Sabrina’s hair darkened. In another world he would be doing this at Lallybroch and it would be Claire coming to check on him with their bairn in her arms––though Claire would be sure to have a wee basket over her arm for her herbs as well.

He coaxed the horse to a stop and let the creature rest as he watched the wet nurse carry a squirming Willie closer. He pulled off the pair of gloves he wore while working and tucked them into the back waistband of his breeks; they could make it trickier to maneuver with the stiff fingers of his hand but it was easier to use them than worry about how filthy he was whenever he found a chance moment to see Willie during the day.

The little legs kicked and straightened as Willie’s arms reached for Jamie. The lad had mastered the art of pulling himself up to stand but any steps still required the assistance of adult hands or something solid to hold onto for balance. Jamie caught him under the arms and lifted him high, both father and son smiling and laughing in their customary greeting. Then Jamie settled Willie in his arms and kissed his forehead. Willie smacked his lips together and made a kissing sound to himself as he’d taken to doing in response.

Jamie turned to Sabrina as Willie started to pick at the sweaty collar of his worn shirt. The woman smiled but exhaustion and exasperation were written over her face.

“She was there again,” Sabrina said quietly.

Jamie bit his cheek as he reflexively clenched his teeth.

“He was just waking from his nap and I’d gone to get him some food. She was free with her opinions on your choosing to wean him so soon.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and rubbed Willie’s back. “Da?” the little voice asked until he looked down at him. Willie pointed at Sabrina who smiled. “Beena.”

“Aye, mo chiusle,” Jamie nodded and smiled. “I’ll be finished wi’ this field in another ten minutes. If ye dinna mind fetching me something to eat, I’ll meet ye down by the stables and we can see how Willie here likes it.”

Sabrina nodded and reached to take Willie from Jamie. Willie clung to Jamie and started to fuss. “Nononononono, Daaaaa.”

“It’ll be fine, lad,” Jamie coaxed. “Ye’ll want to watch me wi’ the horses later, aye? I need to finish here first. Can ye tell me what a horse says?”

“Neeeee,” Willie droned baring six little teeth––two on the top and four on the bottom––nestled in his gums.

“Tha’s right,” Jamie encouraged.

“And what about the cows?” Sabrina took over, drawing Willie’s attention away from Jamie and starting to walk back to the house.

“Ooooooo,” Jamie heard as he slipped his gloves back on and returned to his work.

He would need to find the right way to have a word with Dunsany about his wife and the way she was interfering with Willie; the other servants were starting to talk about her attachment to the lad and her mourning for Geneva was losing its effectiveness as a means of explaining it away. It had been over a year and they thought it a shame hadn’t found more comfort in her remaining daughter who was becoming a young woman in her own right and could do with more attention and guidance from her mother.

Sabrina was the one to suggest getting William out of the house more.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Jamie agreed. So Sabrina had taken to bringing William outdoors for walks when the weather permitted and to observe Jamie at work with the horses. As the boy grew and became more active, the question of who should watch him during the day began to grow as well.

“Lady Dunsany will want to provide you with a proper nursemaid for the boy,” Sabrina noted one evening. She had been corresponding with her sister in London who was expecting her fourth child and was trying to find a delicate way to ask for help.

“I’ll find a way,” Jamie frowned. “I dinna want to give her more influence on him if I can help it––not that I’m no grateful to her and Lord Dunsany both,” he added hastily, “but it willna do for Willie to grow accustomed to such things.”

“You mean to have him with you?” Sabrina’s question came slowly, the skepticism leaking from the pauses.

“I’ll find a way,” Jamie repeated with greater determination.

And as he went about his work in the following days, Jamie had examined his tasks and tried to think of ways he could have William about while he accomplished them. Jenny managed to run Lallybroch with only a little help and a flock of bairns about her; there had to be solutions that would work for him as well.

Having finished the field and brought the work horse back to the stable to rest and eat, Jamie slipped up to the loft where he’d stashed the pieces of his solution. He had them secured in place on a shaded patch of grass a short distance from the paddock fence where he’d be working with some of the younger horses during the afternoon.

Willie’s squeals drew Jamie over to help Sabrina as she struggled to carry both the child and a small basket of food.

Jamie deposited Willie into the small penned in area and then helped Sabrina spread out a blanket and the basket to see how Willie reacted to the constraints of his own paddock.

He crawled over to the small fence wall and peered through the gaps in the slats to see Jamie and Sabrina. Finding them, he giggled triumphantly and stuck his hand through to try and reach them. His senseless babbling got louder as he realized he couldn’t get to them. Jamie bit his lip nervously as Willie pulled himself up using the fencing until he stood and could peer over the top edge. “Da! Da-da,” he called, slapping the smooth wood with the flat of his hand. He became fascinated by the grain of the wood and started poking it with his finger, tracing the lines and following it to the corner where that first piece of low fencing joined to another.

Jamie watched the wall sway a little under Willie’s weight as he held to it for balance but the structure held and so far, Willie appeared to be safely contained.

“It works,” he declared quietly to Sabrina.

“Don’t speak too fast; it’s only a matter of time before he tries to climb it,” she warned then laughed at the look of fear and exasperation that crossed Jamie’s face at the thought.

“Beena, Beena, neeee!” Willie cried pointing to one of the horses that had come to investigate at the paddock fence.

Jamie got up and plucked a fistful of grass to bring over and offer the inquisitive mare. When he turned to look back at Willie, he noticed that the lad had bits of grass stuck to his lips and was pushing something around his mouth with his tongue.

“What do ye think ye’re doing, Willie?” Jamie asked. Willie stuck his tongue out and started spitting to rid himself of the blades of grass he’d attempted to eat. Unsatisfied with how long it was taking, he tried to claw them out with his dirty fingers and nearly gagged. Jamie picked him up and wiped the lad’s mouth with the cuff of his shirt. “It’s not so bad when ye’ve got the proper teeth for it but you’re prone to wind enough wi’out tryin’ to digest grass––and ye can trust me on that as I’ve personal experience.”

He kissed Willie on the head before setting him back down in the enclosure, listening for the little smack of Willie’s lips in reciprocation.

“She’s not going to like it,” Sabrina reiterated. “But… I think we can work on getting Willie to adjust. You’ll need a way to carry him with you that will leave you with your hands free.”

“My sister used to carry a bairn strapped to her chest while she went about her kitchen but tha’ was when they were wee things. Willie willna keep still enough I dinna think,” Jamie frowned.

Sabrina’s brow furrowed. “Once he starts walking he’ll be able to help you with small tasks. As long as you’re mindful to his being there, the boy should do fine and not be too much underfoot. He’ll learn his place from you well enough, I imagine… You’re good with him and he responds to you.”

Jamie felt himself flush and ducked his head, fishing in the basket Sabrina brought for some bread and bringing it over for Willie to gnaw on instead of the wooden slats of his pen.

“Even if what ye say is true… I remember how much grief I gave my father wi’ gettin’ into trouble. Well-intentioned or no, I expect you––my wee man––to be the same.”

Aware he was being talked about, Willie grinned broadly holding tight to the crust of his bread.

Looking down into the face of his smiling son, Jamie’s heart clenched with that bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. The child Claire had carried would be so much older than Willie by now, and yet, once… once he––or she––had been this small, had smiled at Claire this way and held the promise of so much mischief in his––or her––eyes.

“What would Claire make of ye?” Jamie whispered as he reached out and brushed the brown locks from Willie’s forehead. As Willie held out the crust of bread for Jamie to share, he hoped that she would have loved the lad for his sake, for the comfort it gave Jamie every night to have the love of the lad close at hand.

“We’ll have it all figured out by the time ye’re needin’ to go to yer sister’s,” Jamie promised Sabrina. “And there’s naught Lady Dunsany can do to change my mind. I followed my da around to learn the business of a farm; Willie’s goin’ to do the same. What do ye say, mo chiusle? Do ye want to ken all there is to know about horses?”

“Neeee!”

#;mod lenny #Mac Ruaidh AU #jamie keeps william #featuring: william #alternate universe #canon divergence #get ready for more time jumps #and more clashes with the dunsanys

167 notes · View notes

justadump · 7 years

Text

Chapter Three – Lucio I - Mishaps and Lunch

Warnings - Nothing too graphic except TW for slight vomit (not very descriptive).

Lucio had never felt so comfortable before in his life. He was drifting between the haze of sleep and consciousness, aware of his surroundings but not paying any true attention. It was warm, dark… and if Lucio had paid enough attention, he would notice the increasingly loud muffles of someone-

“Santos!”

A large, dark skinned hand slammed on the desk- barely an inch away from Lucio’s head.

Lucio jumped, an audible gasp escaping him as he awoke. He glanced around the classroom, which was filled with his smirking classmates, made Lucio realise with embarrassment he had fallen asleep in class… with probably the least patient teacher there was.

Looking up at Professor Gabriel Reyes, Lucio gave the man an apologetic smile. Reyes expression remained unchanged, unimpressed mixed with stern disappointment. Also a hint of intimidation, which was not hard considering how tall and scarily scarred his professor was.

“Uh… my bad Professor?” Lucio said meekly, trying his hardest to repress a yawn. He felt exhausted.

“”Your bad”?” Reyes cocked an eyebrow. “I expect all my students to pay attention to my lectures, and answer when I ask a question, Santos.”

“Question?” Lucio said, looking around to his peers. Most were snickering at this point, and being generally unhelpful. “Uh… could you please repeat it, professor?”

Reyes sighed, and all Lucio wanted to do was shrink down and disappear.

“I had asked you what the three laws of motion were.” Reye supplied, not entirely helpful for Lucio. He had been unable to pay attention to the two hour long lecture, and any memory of that information was non-existent in his mind. “You were set the task of researching it yesterday. I assume you did your homework?”

Crap… Lucio thought, unable to hide a grimace. He was screwed.

“The three laws of motion are… well, it’s the thing with Isaac Newton…” Lucio said, trying to speak slowly enough to think. Even if he knew it, his mind was going blank from the stress of the situation. “Uh…”

“I think that’s enough Santos, it’s clear you didn’t do the reading I set out for everyone yesterday.” Reyes grumbled, and turned away from him to face the board. Lucio gritted his teeth, feeling an awful mix of guilt and anger.

He understood why Reyes would be annoyed, but his professor’s awful mood seemed uncalled for. Then again, Reyes was always in an awful mood.

Lucio watched as he wrote on the whiteboard, making sure to take notes to ease his professor’s irritation. Which seemed an impossible task.

The next hour dragged ever so slowly, Lucio had to use any willpower left to stay awake- he really couldn’t afford to anger Reyes any further and risk being held behind.

Unfortunately, Reyes did just that.

“Santos.” Reyes called, as Lucio packed up his bag and went to leave with his other classmates. Lucio stilled, repressing a sigh. “We need to have a chat.”

“What’s up, Professor?” Lucio asked, cautiously, as he approached Reyes desk. But he had a feeling of what it was about. Reyes grimaced at his casual wording.

“Santos, tell me, why are you in this class?” Reyes asked, sharply. Lucio was taken aback, from both the question and tone. He shifted awkwardly.

“If this is about the late homework, I am sorry professor. I’ve just been kinda busy with my job and-“

“This is more than just the homework.” Reyes sighed, he didn’t look too angry- just weary. “You have been in this class for a few months but you seem to have no interest in the subject, you’ve been missing deadlines, putting a part-time job a priority when your education should be.”

Lucio was silent, staring at one of Reyes potted plants (lilies of all things), conflicted. The words struck close, all the doubts of himself laid bare- the why am I here? Is this what I want?

“Are… are you kicking me off the course?” Lucio asked quietly, Reyes rolled his eyes.

“No.” Reyes said, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not going to do that. It might seem like the opposite Santos, but I want the best for you- for my students. If you don’t want to be here, don’t be- or waste your time. Our time.”

“Uh… thank you?” Lucio said, and couldn’t help but glance towards the door. Reyes noticed.

“You can leave.” He sighed, and as Lucio practically rushed towards the door, he called out.

“Bring your damn homework next time!”

BunnieUnnie: YO where R you??? ^-^;

Froggo: Prof kept me behind :C

BunnieUnnie: aw T_T …meet me at our spot??

Froggo: can’t rn soz :O… gotta check on Amiguinho

BunnieUnnie: R U srsly naming him Amiguinho??? -_-

Froggo: Don’t judge me woman!!!! Jk jk… but maybe meet later??? You can hang with your GF until then? :)

BunnieUnnie: Blocked! >:C

Lucio smiled to himself, pocketing the phone as he made his way through campus. Much to his relief, lessons for the day were almost over, Lucio having an hour or so for a free period before his compulsory maths class. He would usually meet with Hana, but instead he had some pretty important errands. Ignoring his buzzing phone (likely Hana sending him silly GIFS), Lucio picked up his pace – the campus was pretty big, it would take him at least twenty minutes to get to his apartment.

Leaving his poorly patient for so long left a sour taste in Lucio’s mouth- the 2 hour long lesson not helping much with that concern.

Lucio was out of breath by the time he reached his apartment complex, key ready in his hand, he jogged up the two flights of stairs- barely stopping to unlock his door and rush inside. A quick glance around reminded him of the very due clean out needed- empty takeout boxes practically lined his kitchen and living area, dirty laundry thrown into a pile.

His mãe would throw a fit at the sight.

Lucio ignored it for now, sliding his bag and jacket off onto the floor whilst he made his way to his bedroom. The cage was still sat secure on his desk, undisturbed and silent as Lucio approached. He assumed Amiguinho was still sleeping.

“Hey, time to wake up Amiguinho…” Lucio cooed, as he opened the roof door. He had managed to find time to pick up some rat pellets on the way so quickly prepared his food. He hoped that the rat was healthy enough to start on solids, and not just fluid. “You up little guy?”

Lucio continued to talk softly, reaching down to nudge the bundle of fabric- he hadn’t the heart earlier to disturb and move Amiguinho earlier.

As his finger moved a section of the fabric aside, a soft pink nose slowly emerged- moving erratically, soon very twitchy whiskers were now visible. Lucio froze, staring as Amiguinho slowly lifted his head and let out a soft hiss.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Lucio said, moving his hand away- he learned his lesson the other night. “Nothing to be scared about here, just checking to see if you’re alright. You hungry?”

Lucio didn’t expect a response, he always spoke so openly with animals- even if people looked at him strange for doing so. If anything, it reassured Lucio more than the rat.

Amiguinho crawled slowly, lifting himself out of the scarf. Lucio could tell by his movements that he was still recovering, his gait wobbly and awkward, which was not helped by the missing limbs.

Thankfully his eyes seemed brighter, and more alert- and no obvious signs of shock were present.

“You’re looking so much better than yesterday Amiguinho!” Lucio smiled, and placed the bowl of pellets down in front of the rat. “Hey, you think you can eat some of this?”

Amiguinho didn’t move for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Lucio. Then, he leaned down to sniff the bowl, never taking his shiny eyes off Lucio.

His pink nose wrinkled with distaste, the rat bearing his teeth and letting out a much louder hiss than before. Amiguinho turned his back to the bowl, instead choosing to look (glare?) upwards at the still open cage roof. Lucio closed it slowly.

“Amiguinho, you have to eat. It’ll help you feel better.” Lucio chastised him, but wasn’t too concerned, yet. “But hey, it’s alright… you’re still healing, I know you feel too terrible to eat, but try later yeah?”

Sitting back on the edge of his bed, Lucio sighed. It would be naïve to assume the still injured rat would be ready to eat, and if Amiguinho had never eaten pellets before- it would be unlikely he’d rush to eat something unfamiliar.

Lucio shrugged to himself, and feeling hungry himself, decided to fix up some lunch.

He was halfway mentally composing a new song when the food was ready to dish up. Lifting the red hot pot off the stove, Lucio hummed- left foot tapping to an imaginary beat.

It was a traditional feijkoada dish, although it was nothing like his mãe would cook- a half-assed discount version if anything. But it reminded him of home, and was one of his favourites.

Delicious meat and beans, with a touch of homesickness.

With a hearty serving of feijkoada in a bowl, Lucio made his way back to the bedroom- wanting to keep an eye on his patient during his meal.

To Lucio’s dismay, he still had another class at the college in less than a couple hours- as well as work in the evening.

As Lucio settled with his meal on the bed, covers still messy from the morning, he began to eat. Lucio couldn’t help but practically hum at the taste, after only having a hastily half-eaten cereal bar the whole day, the meal was mouth-wateringly satisfying.

But, loud grating sound caught Lucio’s attention, he glanced towards the plastic enclosure, where Amiguinho was hanging off the bars of the roof, gnawing the metal frame frantically. Lucio worried for the injured rat’s safety more than anything else.

“Hey, hey, stop that.” Lucio said, gently.

Putting his bowl down, he scooted closer to the cage. Amiguinho froze in his movements, still gripping onto the roof with only one fore limb- impressive really, considering how weak the animal should be at this stage. “You’ll hurt yourself, Amiguinho.”

The rat gave a rather loud hiss in reply, Lucio frowned- but as Amiguingo bared his teeth; his grip on the cage slipped, the animal landing on the plastic bottom with a rather loud thud. The animal looked dazed.

“Oh, crap.” Lucio swore, and went to open the enclosure. He was too racked with worry to care about bites, so he scooped Amiguinho up in his hands. Lucio stroked Amiguinho lightly on his soft forehead, practically holding him against his chest like a baby.

The small rat was shaking slightly, but otherwise seemed unhurt- if not woozy. Lucio continued to stroke his forehead gently, the action seeming to calm the animal.

“You got to be more careful Amiguinho, you’re still recovering from yesterday and last thing I want is for you to be any more hurt…” Lucio chided, his soft expression turning slightly tense when Amiguinho started to shift in his arms.

It was instinctual, but Lucio could still vividly remember the painful sensation of being bitten by a rat, and would rather not repeat it.

But instead of the aggressive response he expected, Amiguinho only moved to raise himself on his hind quarters, his pink nose scrunched up as he sniffed towards Lucio’s bowl of food…

Suddenly Amiguinho tensed, and before Lucio could react, he dived.

“Hey!” Lucio gasped, his grasp on his food slipped- the bowl tipping sideways which caused half of meat to spill on the white duvet covers.

This didn’t bother Amiguinho, who was happily munching on the very species inappropriate food. The rat’s face was covered with the reddish sauce, making him look almost feral.

“Man…” Lucio sighed, rubbing his face in exasperation. “You wouldn’t eat the pellets, but thought my lunch would be a nice treat, huh?”

Amiguinho said nothing, instead he choked.

“Oh shit.” Lucio breathed, frozen as the rat hacked violently a second time- it seemed it he was eating too fast for his throat to manage. It wasn’t until he coughed a third time that Lucio jumped into action, lifting the rat in one hand as he quite sharply pressed Amiguinho’s ribcage.

A few repeated presses seemed to help. Amiguinho’s choking became less forceful after a few moments. Lucio grimaced as the rat finally threw up, chunks of half eaten meat finally unstuck from his throat.

“You really are accident prone, aren’t you?” Lucio sighed, gently wiping some sauce and food from Amiguinho’s mouth with his hand. The rat squeaked quietly, his amber eyes focusing on Lucio as he wiped away the debris. “You’re going to give me a heart attack y’know.”

Lucio grabbed a washcloth from his bathroom, Amiguinho still curled up in his arms. With the damp cloth, he finished cleaning all the sauce off the rat’s face- the animal seemed weak after his choking fit, and barely put up any fight. It was a worrying sight.

Lucio glanced at his watch, and bit his lip.

“I don’t think I can leave you here… but I got class…” Lucio mused to himself, his eyes catching sight of a small carry cage/vivarium he uses to take Alfonso, his frog, to the vets.

“That could work…”

#boombox #fanfic #junkrat #lucio #ao3 #shifter #au

2 notes · View notes