I really don’t think enough people realize that to be a Christian and also an artist doesn’t mean that you have to label yourself a “Christian artist”. If you write books you don’t have to write solely, Christian labeled books. If ur a painter you don’t just have to paint Jesus on the cross or the tomb He was laid in.
Your art is already inspired by the great creator. Yes, it should have Christian values behind it but it doesn’t have to be put in that category. It doesn’t even need to have crazy themes behind it like C. S. Lewis’ writing does. You can write stories of redemption and adventure without making the main character into a Christian. You can paint inspired pictures of loss and suffering. You can act in a play that isn’t about God.
God is in every aspect of your life already and you can create so many things in His name. But you don’t have to restrict yourself to only making art that’s explicitly “Christian”. Every single piece of art you make can be made with God in mind and can be made for His glory. Be expressive, talk about your struggles, write about the high points and show people your failures.
Create in His name. He takes unimaginable pride in what His artists create. Because He is the great creator, and He is in everything we do.
Create your own art, no matter what form or genre. And, of course, never be afraid to tell people what inspires you. Essentially, just don’t let yourself be put into a bubble that constricts you from your full creative freedom.
Worship through everything that you create and God will take pride in what you do.
Some write for fun, others because it’s a habit. I write only in desperation.
When I write, it’s to stave off feelings that would otherwise consume and paralyze me. Writing has come to embody running away, a desperate escape from something uncontrollable and terrifying. I write to buy more time, like the person futilely running away from an engulfing storm. And I can’t stop; each time I stop, the storm inches closer and closer, threatening to hit at full force.
So I’m like a kept prisoner, only motivated to write by fear. And what better to write about, than the very nature of this fear, these terrible waves of feelings?
Listen, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but if I was hiding a lost special, and I had planted a billboard-sized clue in one of my episodes with the words “on March 8th the secret will be unleashed,” I would almost certainly release a teaser on BBC One featuring a glitching Moriarty saying “You didn’t think that was the whole story, did you?” and if not that I would definitely put a surprise minisode on YouTube with the announcement for the upcoming lost special at the end… either one would get lots of buzz and people reassessing their impressions of series 4 and going back to do what all of us have been doing all along, looking for clues and playing the game they’ve laid out for us within the show itself… get everybody intrigued and excited again for this history-making insane wish fulfillment etc etc… who knows about Mofftiss I’m just saying that’s what I’D do…
THE BEST THING HAPPENED TO ME HAPPENED TODAY AND I’M STILL SCREAMING-
So I was in algebra and it was the end of class, so I asked my teacher how his weekend was. He said it was great and asked me how was mine, to which I responded with, “I binge-watched my favorite show. I watched like two seasons.”
I got really nervous because I’m worried about people knowing I watch it and kept darting around it. Eventually I just thought ‘Screw it’ and just said-
“Ah it was a Lego show…”
AND GUYS LEMME TELL YOU HIS EYES WIDENED AND HE FROZE UP AS HE ASKED ME, “Is it NINJAGO?”
AND MY HEART WANTED TO DIE HE KNEW HE WATCHES IT- I SAID YEAH AND HE SAID “NINJAGO’S AWESOME!!! I watch it with my kid all the time- He loves it!!!”
HE THEN STARTED TO NAME OFF THE CHARACTERS AND THIS OTHER STUFF ABOUT THE SHOW AND SAYS HE WANTS TO SHOW HIS KID NEXO KNIGHTS SINCE ITS ANOTHER LEGO SHOW AND HE THINKS HE’LL ENJOY IT AND I AGREED RIGHT AWAY THAT’S A GOOD ONE TOO-
AHHH I WANTED TO CRY MY TEACHERS KNOWS NINJAGO AND WATCHES IT- IM GONNA BUY THAT MAN A ZANE KEYCHAIN HE DESERVES IT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.
BEST DAY EVER- My algebra teacher’s like 5'4, possibly nearing his late 30s, bald, very loud, talks really fast, and honestly is a bit scary since he can roast literally anyone he talks to but knowing that he watches it with his son makes me really happy.
Hello, everyone! We’re already halfway the program and this blog is only two months but since I just hit 2k today I wanted to say thank you for liking my shitty gifs, sending requests, asks and just being overall friendly!
Now I’m going to name some of my favorite blogs that are pd101 related and made this season more fun, follow them if you want more pd101 in your dash!
Anan translation - Endo Aya’s strategies for going after the sextuplets.
Totoko’s voice actress’s comments about what the brothers might be like to go out with and her tips on how to win them from the recent Anan special magazine.
Endo Aya’s strategies
for going after the sextuplets.
Totoko-chan, the super cute only girl in the group. She’s
very popular with the sextuplets, and we’re as jealous as could be. Together
with Endo Aya who performed her, we’re going to examine their manly charms in a
somewhat serious way!
She’s Totoko-chan so she understands?! The sextuplets “manly
The beloved heroine Totoko, whom the sextuplets never stop
admiring. Since she is approached by them constantly on a daily basis, she’s
bound to know about their attitudes towards love, and (we’re not sure whether
or not they actually have any) their manly charms. Therefore, we threw Endo
Aya, who played Totoko the closest observer of the sextuplets for half a year,
the silly question, “What are they like as men?”
(Endo) To start with, whatever they may say, I think that
they are kind boys. No matter how selfish Totoko gets, they face her head on
and take the blow. This time, I tried thinking about each of them carefully,
but even though they are jobless virgin NEETs who sponge off their family, there
are moments when I suddenly felt like they were “good men” and I got flustered,
lol. Despite telling myself that “If I went out with them they’d definitely be
a burden,” I had a hard time keeping my cool. (Lol)
So she has analysed each of their manly charms, from
Osomatsu to Todomatsu, and has proposed her strategies for going after them.
Requested by anon: Sherlock x reader. Readers ex boyfriend used to shout at her before he
used to beat her. Sherlock never shouts when she’s around as he knows it scars
her. One day Sherlock and Mycroft are having an argument Sherlock is staying
calm but Mycroft starts shouting. Causing reader to drop a heavy glass dish
before running out the door and into the rain & anon: Sherlock x reader. The reader was in an abusive in the past. Now happy with
Sherlock but doesn’t like shouting. Mycroft comes in asking Sherlock to come to
dinner with mummy. Mycroft and Sherlock start arguing. Sherlock is staying calm
but Mycroft is shouting causing reader to shake in fear.
A/N: Another abusive-ex related fic… I’ll say it again, if any of you is in a similar situation please, please, please, get help. Leave, break that sh*t up, do whatever it takes to go back to a normal life (unless it risks your life, then look for alternatives like calling the cops). I’ve experienced violence first-handedly and I can tell you that there is ALWAYS a way. Don’t let yourself down. You are worthy enough to get a real relationship without violence, abuse, humilliation, etc. YOU ARE WORTH IT.
Road trips weren’t Sherlock’s favourite kinds of journeys, especially
when the destiny was his parents’ house. Yet, he remained calm, finding all
sorts of excuse to encourage the on-going conversation between him and (Y/N) to
continue until their arrival.
It had been Mycroft’s idea to spend the Christmas Break at their parent’s
house. Obviously, Sherlock was a bit reluctant about it, but (Y/N) convinced
him to spend time with his family. He agreed as long as she went there with him
– which was perfectly accepted by the rest of the Holmes – and so there were.
They arrived a tad bit late, when the moon had just risen over the green
hills that framed the petite picture of the small British house Mr. and Mrs.
Holmes lived at. In spite of the time, they were received by the cheerful
couple and Mycroft, who was just as serious as usual.
After a long dinner, they went to bed. As far as they could tell, that
that Christmas would be pacific between the two brothers. Sherlock hadn’t been
shot then, and Mycroft was free from his work, so Mrs. Holmes and (Y/N) hoped
that they weren’t stressed enough to start an argument over nothing.
The first two days were fine. Mycroft and Sherlock would bombard each
other with snazzy comments, but that was it. Mrs. Holmes was more than happy to
have her two boys at home without arguing.
“I think he is behaving because of you.” She confessed once to (Y/N),
while they baked together.
“That was really inconsiderate of you, Harry.” Y/N responds instead of answering his question.
“No it wasn’t.” Harry argues, glaring at Y/N. He takes a step forward, bringing himself closer to Y/N down the narrow hallway. “I was just doing my job.”
“You didn’t have to do it like that, not in front of me and in such detail.” Y/N fights with Harry far too often, or used to at least. It’s silly, because he always seems to win.
“In such detail?” Harry repeats, scoffing at her accusation. “If I was going to go into such detail,” he lowers his voice and takes another, gradual step forward, until their chests are brushing intimately, “I would’ve told him that, no matter how much you writhe in that thing, you’re never going to get any sort of friction. I could’ve told him that you’ve never had an
orgasm, and that the most action you’ve ever received is having my hand against your bum.” Harry leans his face in close to Y/N’s, smirking. “Y/N, I was very considerate in filtering these things out. You should be thanking me.”
or, Y/N’s the Princess of England who is designated to wear a chastity belt to preserve her purity at all times. Yet, her feelings toward her head of security, Harry, are everything but pure.
“Oh shut up, you’re supposedly not even listening anymore,” Alya said. “This is possibly the most fascinating thing you’ve ever told me. I’m still half convinced you’re lying to me.”
“Listen, when we were in école together, Chloe and Marinette were inseparable.”
“Wait a minute,” Adrien perked up suddenly. “Chloe, that best girlfriend in the whole wide world you were always telling me about when we were kids….that was Marinette!?”
Marinette dug through her book bag, pulled out a pen, and held it out to Kim who was standing by her desk. “Here. Take it. Stab me with it. Do it.”
“We are not talking about that Adrien!!” Chloe screamed, standing up from her chair. “That was a part of my dark past how dare you bring it up!”
“Oh man, they did everything together,” Nino laughed. “Did arts and crafts projects together, went to the park together, got friendship bracelets together, it was super adorable.”
“We were like eight!” Marinette wailed. “Oh my God, that was forever ago!”
“Just makes it even more adorable,” Nino shrugged. “But yeah they announced to the whole class one day that if they didn’t have any boyfriends by the time they graduated lycée, that they were going to date each other and then get married. I humbly accepted the responsibility of marrying them myself, Juleka was going to be in charge of makeup, Max was in charge of fundraising, and Nathanael was going to design the invitations.”
“I have preliminary sketches if you want them,” Nathanael said from the back of the classroom. “I was thinking a pink and yellow theme. Possibly a spring wedding.”
“Oh my God, can I be Marinette’s maid of honor?” Alya gasped.
“There’s no wedding!” Marinette shrieked.
“I was going to be Chloe’s best man, so that works,” Adrien grinned. “Or wait. Does she get a maid of honor instead of a best man? How does that work again?”
“How about this?” Nino decided. “Alya is Marinette’s maid of honor. I’m Marinette’s best man. You’re Chloe’s best man. And Sabrina’s Chloe’s maid of honor. That way we’re all even.”
“Oh perfect!” Sabrina smiled, clapping her hands together. “I already started drafting a speech. I was hoping someone could take a look at it for me and tell me what they think.”
“Done!” Chloe announced, getting up from her seat. “Five thousand percent done! I’m burying myself in shame in the park! Don’t look for me!”
Type - AU: Dragons and fairies because I’m trash for that trope
Words - 4334
Note: this was originally gonna be something for Gajevy love fest, so I’m still gonna put the tag, but I decided to post it now bc I’m too in love with it to wait until the day I was gonna post it. Also, this is going to become an actual fanfic, so here is the link to the story! Thanks for all the support so far <3
Levy let out a weak cry as she slid down the cold iron bar, too exhausted to stand any longer, much less throw herself against the cage like she had been. The frigid metal seemed to continually sap the life right out of her veins, and it was all she could do to keep the tears that blurred her vision from falling.
The dragon had thrown her in this cage, then up and left. He was probably preparing his torturous means of killing her. He’d probably start by cutting up her wings before tearing them off. Each slice in the thin membrane would cause her immense pain. Then, for all she knew he might even decide to break her flight bones before he even tore them from her back. The thought made her curl even further into herself and conceal her frightened form with those large wings he’d go for first.
The silvery feathers along the bottom of the membrane were out of place and mangled. The gold ones lining the bones at the top were patchy and dull. Her species of fairy, the ancient Avis people of the south, were a prideful one. So the sight of her plumage in such poor condition brought a feeling of shame upon her.
Not that its appearance was her fault though…
At the sound of footsteps approaching, she scrambled back from the door of the cage. But these footsteps sounded different than the ones she heard when the dragon left. She wasn’t sure how long ago that was, but she knew it had been a fair amount of time. So the sound of these new footsteps lit a dark curiosity in her. They echoed off the stone walls in what she could only assume was the dragon’s aerie, though it was dismal and bare, with only two windows and a dragon-sized door that had been slammed shut after they arrived.
“I’ve heard much about your people,” came a gruff voice from the darkness. She could only assume that it came from the same creature as the footsteps. “The prideful fairies of the south, the powerful, legendary Avis who come out only when the sun is at its peak, and when the moon is at its fullest.”
The torch on the wall near the cage only illuminated so far into the darkness, and whomever was now circling her stayed just outside its reach.
“I say you’re just arrogant fools who’ve hidden in your enchanted forest for far too long,” the voice hissed. Judging from it, she could tell it was a man, though she could not glean what species he was from the few words he had spoken. “You value your knowledge and your wings more than anything, so you have failed to notice all the changes going on in the world outside your borders…”
“You call me arrogant,” she croaked, her throat feeling like a desert. “Yet you keep company with a dragon. That seems to me both foolish AND arrogant…”
The man chuckled, the sound bouncing off the walls to give the feeling that his laughter was surrounding her. The next thing she knew, a hand reached through the bars at her back to take hold of her narrow chin and turn her around to face him.
“My poor little fairy, that dragon and I are practically one in the same,” he grinned. The sight of him took her breath away to the point that she had no response.
A wild mane of unkept black hair fell down his back, which was covered by a thick, luxurious cape. He had on a dark shirt with a high neck and no sleeves, giving a full view of his muscular, scarred arms. His light pants were tucked into worn leather boots to complete the look. But even more captivating was his face. A sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones gave him a very angular appearance. One odd thing about him though was the piercings scattered about his face. Three lined either side of the bridge of his nose, four were fastened in the place of both of his eyebrows, and two dotted the space between his lower lip and chin. His ears were littered with even more metal studs, and she found herself wondering what they felt like.
The grin that still cut across his face exposed his bright white teeth. Upon closer inspection, his canines were much longer - not to mention sharper - than any normal fae’s. Dragging her gaze away from them, she hesitantly brought it up to meet his own, then instantly regretted the decision. Once they made eye contact, she felt that she was paralyzed in her seat. His irises were the color of freshly spilled blood, and they bore hungrily into her soul. A stroke of fear shot through her, and she mustered all her will to tear away from his grasp and scramble away from him. Huddling on the opposite side of the cage, she concealed her body once more with her bird-like wings, leaving her head free to watch him skeptically.
“Aww come on little fairy. I just wanted to play a little,” he gave a dramatic pout as he took hold of the bars in front of him and hung almost seductively against them. “What do you think I’m gonna do, clip your precious little wings?”
“No, I’m sure the dragon will take care of that,” she muttered, voice wavering slightly at the thought.
“Come now, you really think that big metal head has enough use of his paws to be able to rip the wings off a teeny fairy like yourself?” He scoffed, straightening and slowly making his way around the cage toward her. He took a slow pace, emphasizing each step and clasping his hands behind his head. “If anything, should he decide he wants your wings clipped, he’d have me do it. But I don’t think that’s his intention…”
She hesitated, staying very still as the man continued to approach her. “T-Then what is his intention…if you know him as well as you claim?”
He sighed, coming to a stop behind her. He reached through the bars once again, but this time much more gently, to tug her closer to him. “I think it’s something much simpler than that, little fairy…” he murmured as he leaned down to nearly brush his nose to hers.
“Tell me…please…” It came out no louder than a whisper.
“Maybe he was captivated.” The sound of metal clinking against metal did not even register to her in that moment. “Maybe he wanted to keep you for himself.” The door was suddenly unlocked and opened, but Levy still was not free, as the man was suddenly situated atop her slight frame, his long legs straddling her waist and her arms pinned gently above her head with one of his hands.
“Maybe he wants to make you queen of all the lands he rules over instead of letting you become queen of that silly little forest. I’ve watched for two centuries as the war between the dragons and fae raged on, just waiting for a chance to end it, and I finally found that when you were named heir to the throne…”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been watching for two centuries? I’m the answer to the end of the-” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned on her. “Y-you… you’re the dragon aren’t you?” Terror coursed through her veins, but so did something else. Something much sweeter, much softer.
His expression changed slightly, looking almost guilty. “And what would you do if I said yes?” It was his turn to speak in no more than a whisper. “Would you run away terrified like all the rest of your kind? Would you refuse any consolation or friendship I might offer? No, I don’t think you would do that…” His free hand moved to slowly brush the strands of blue hair away from her face, almost lovingly. He then trailed it down her side until he reached her once awe-inspiring wings. “I thoroughly apologize for what I did to your wings, little one. It can be a bit difficult for a matured dragon to catch a fairy as quick as you. I foolishly hoped there’d be little or no collateral damage, but obviously I was mistaken.” Regret tinged his voice, almost making her believe him.
“If you say you’ve been around for two centuries, why did you wait for me to end this war? It’s claimed the lives of millions of fae and thousands of dragons…” Her voice was colored with fear still, and she didn’t try to stop it from trembling.
“Because I was the dragon that started it in the first place…” he admitted after a moment, not meeting her gaze.
“You aren’t-” She gasped quietly. “Black Steel Gajeel, the Iron King of the Dragons.”
“Do I frighten you a little more now? Does the name strike terror in your heart? I know I was the cause of all these deaths, and I wish I would’ve known two centuries ago what havoc it would bring. But I cannot let the rest of my brethren die off into extinction, nor do I have any more desire to bring destruction to your kind.” He dropped his head slightly, his face now hidden from her sight.
As his grip on her hands loosened, Levy slipped one free with ease, before hesitantly placing it under his chin to make him look at her. His skin was hot to the touch, and smoother than she would have expected from such a rugged looking man. “I think I understand why you brought me here then…” she admitted.
He glanced to his sides as movement caught his eye. But it was simply her wings, rising around him. Their impressive span was more than enough to wrap around the large man above her, and she nearly laughed at the fascinated look on his face as he inspected the feathered barrier around him.
“But I think I’d rather hear your explanation…”
He visibly swallowed, looking almost nervous. Never in a thousand years would Levy have thought she could make a dragon, much less their king, look nervous…
“I want to bring this cursed war to an end, my little fairy.”
Gathering her courage once more, she smiled ever so slightly. “Is that all you want? I find it hard to believe that the mighty Iron King would want just one thing of a lowly fairy like me.”
“You are no lowly fairy. You are Princess Levy McGarden, Heir to the throne of Avion, future ruler of the lands of Fiore and all the fae who reside within its borders. I may be king of the dragons, but if there is any creature to equal my power, it is you, both in status and magical ability.” He gazed down at her with such intensity that her heart fluttered in her chest. “I would like nothing more than for you to remain here by my side. Only together can we bring this fighting to an end. And only together would we be able to lead into the future to assure it does not occur again.”
“Convince me, o dragon king… why should I listen to a word you’re saying? I cannot deny that, while I’m tempted to accept your offer,” Levy hesitated, letting her fingers slowly trail down his neck to tug down the collar of his shirt. “I’m sure it would be an unlawful relationship in every meaning of the word. And while I’ll admit, you’re quite handsome…” Raising herself up on her already freed arm, she tugged the other from his grasp and wrapped it around the back of his neck. Only when they were nearly nose-to-nose did she finish. “Tell me how you wish to atone for all the sins that dirty those hands of yours.”
The almost stunned look on his face gave her enough self confidence to stay in that position. Otherwise, she’d have blushed so intensely she’d have burned to a crisp! But that confidence was tested as he gave a low chuckle. Here she was, trying her hardest to be intimidating and hopefully appealing, and he had the audacity to laugh at her… Anger tinged her expression as he stopped.
“I apologize, my little princess. This was much more than I’d expected. Had I known this would be the route you would decide to take me on, I’d have prepared a room for you to do with me as you saw fit, instead of leaving you in a cage…” As his words brought a deep blush to her cheeks, he ducked his head to press his lips softly to her neck. The tenderness of the gesture sent a chill down her spine.
He continued on after a moment of kissing her sweet skin. “So I hope it suits your needs-” he paused again, this time to look up at her. “If I offer my personal chambers instead.” With that, he allowed his lips to return to her neck, this time with the addition of gentle teeth scraping against her creamy skin.
Her wings slowly fell away from the pair as she felt herself going nearly limp at the feeling. As they made contact with the metal floor of the cage, she felt him slip one arm under the small of her back, and one beneath her head in what she thought was a mere romantic gesture. While she may have been partially correct, a strange leathery sound drew her attention away from the feeling of his mouth.
Opening her eyes, she drew in a quiet gasp. Above her rose a pair of metallic-looking dragon’s wings that put her own to shame, both in appearance and span. Gajeel gave her neck one last nibble before grinning down at her. The next thing she knew, they were out of the cage and soaring through the cavernous passages of the Iron Dragon’s stronghold. She was tucked against his broad, muscular chest, her wings folded tight against her back as his pumped thunderously above her.
Just as she had grown accustomed to the feeling of flying without her own wings, they were slowing to a stop. It was then that she realized that her arms were secured around his neck, and her body was pressed flush against his. As he folded his wings to his back, allowing the thick cape to cover them once again, she looked at him in wonder.
“Would you like to hang on my neck all night princess, or would you like to try and get at least a wink of sleep?” He grinned as that adorable blush spread over her cheeks once again. She released her hold on him, only to be lowered about a foot to the ground by his strong hands on her waist. She then truly realized how much larger he was in comparison to her.
As he turned to push open a set of enormous metal doors, she made to follow, but froze at the sight that awaited her. She had thought the previous cave was his aerie, but she was surely mistaken. This cavern put the previous one to shame. Mountains of treasure rose up along the curved wall, and six tall pillars carved to look like incredibly realistic dragons helped support the ceiling, from which hung an ornate crystal chandelier lit with hundreds of light lacrima. But the center of the space was what truly caught her attention.
A smaller collection of treasures surrounded a raised platform that contained what appeared to be some type of nest. The treasures there looked much more valuable than those along the walls, as this horde contained crowns and treasure chests overflowing with jewels. While the surrounding ones glittered gold, this pile glittered every color of the rainbow, reflecting the light from the chandelier above.
She took slow steps toward the altar as Gajeel watched her with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. She looked so small and fragile against the backdrop of his chamber. All the metal and treasure surrounding her, with her tattered wings and torn dress. Yet he truly believed that, should it ever come to pass, he would protect her with more ferocity than he would ever protect any of the treasure that he had gathered over the last two centuries.
She paused at the steps to the altar and glanced back at him as he stood in the doorway. Receiving a nod of approval, she ascended the stone steps to the place where his nest was perched. She circled the structure slowly, noticing the iron shell on the outside, and running her hand along the large pillows that lined the edge of it. It was very much akin to the nests her own people slept in, but on a much, much larger scale. As she reached the back of it, she paused to look up at Gajeel. With a look of dangerous curiosity and mischief, she unfurled her wings and leapt into the air.
Her plan was to simply fly up a little ways then fall softly into the nest. But her battered wings had other ideas. She only pumped her wings twice, before pain shot through them and her face contorted. Before she could even start to fall toward the nest, Gajeel was there, arms holding her protectively against himself as she tried her hardest not to cry out from the pain.
He slowly lowered them to the nest, placing her gently among the blankets and pillows before moving to inspect her wings. He moved his fingers carefully along the bone of her left wing, then finding it intact, he moved to the right one. He found that it wasn’t in fact broken, but there was a patch of skin along the bone that was heavily irritated. The feathers there were torn up and several were missing. Guilt welled up in his chest as he folded his wings once again and called out in a language Levy couldn’t understand.
“I’m so sorry my little fairy, I’ll get you patched up in no time,” he murmured into her hair. He gently pulled her into his lap, keeping her injured wing free. She laid against his chest for a long moment, before he felt her stir. She reached up to undo the clasp at his throat, letting the heavy cape fall away and leaving his wings exposed. Looking up at him, he nodded with a smile as he got what she was silently asking.
He slowly unfurled he left wing, bringing it forward so she could see it. He smiled at the look of wonder that came to her face as she gazed silently at it. She reached out a tentative hand to run her fingers over the length of his flight bone. After she reached the end of it, she trailed her fingertips down the leathery membrane of the wing itself, fascinated as she brushed over the bones extending down from the main one through the membrane to end in a little claw at the edge of the wing. The structures were so foreign to her, so captivating, that she didn’t even notice someone else entering the chamber.
“Gajeel, I have what you asked for,” came a clear, deep voice from the doorway. With a start, Levy looked up at Gajeel in confusion, and he nodded with a smile before looking toward the door.
“Thank you Pantherlily. You can bring it in.” With his wing in front of her, Levy couldn’t see who was approaching. So she slowly peeked around the large obstruction only to be dumbstruck at the sight.
A small black cat approached them carrying a bag full of what appeared to be medical supplies over his shoulder. The cat wore a pair of billowy olive green pants and walked on two legs, and as she glanced around, she decided it had to have been him that spoke before.
Retracting his wing and returning it to his back, Gajeel watched Levy’s expression carefully. She looked astonished as the little Exceed approached them, and it brought a smile to his face. As Lily stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the nest, he bowed low, a gesture he had long since abandoned with Gajeel.
“Why bow now Lily? You haven’t done that in decades? Gajeel chuckled.
“The bow wasn’t for you screwhead. It was for her highness, Princess Levy of Avion,” the cat rolled his eyes. Levy laughed quietly, relaxing slightly against Gajeel’s chest.
“I like him,” she murmured to the dragon beside her.
“Tch, just hand me the supplies and be on your way,” Gajeel grumbled. As the cat stepped up to hand him the bag, he clambered over the side of the nest to joint them, seemingly much to Gajeel’s annoyance.
“So, Pantherlily, you seem to know who I am, but I can’t say the same about you,” Levy smiled as Gajeel shifted beneath her. She extended the injured wing, then shifted so her back was pressed to Gajeel’s chest so he could reach it with greater ease. She could have sworn he held his breath as she moved. “Where do you hail from?”
“I am an Exceed from the kingdom of Exlandia, a far away country where creatures like myself thrive. It’s nice to finally have someone around here to talk to about things as trivial as this,” he chuckled and shot a playful look at Gajeel. The dragon scoffed as he gently spread a salve over the injured area. It stung a bit at first, but after a moment Levy sighed as it soothed the pain.
“So tell me, what makes you stick around here Pantherlily?” She asked curiously.
“Gajeel saved me from many a battle when we were younger. Without his ugly mug, I wouldn’t be alive today. So I suppose it’s because we’ve formed a friendship. Or maybe I’m just too scared to fight with that dragon he hides inside that skin of his…” The little cat shuddered at some unspoken memory, which spiked Levy’s curiosity before she decided it would be better not to ask.
She inhaled sharply, trying to keep her wing still as she felt the ever unpleasant sensation of feathers being plucked from her skin. “What are you doing?” She hissed, turning to see what Gajeel was getting at.
“I’m sorry, but these feathers aren’t going to regrow unless they’re-”
“Removed, I know,” she cut him off. “But there are less painful ways of going about that, you know.” Her voice was colored in thinly veiled annoyance. “Let me handle this part. I won’t lose a single feather more than I have to.”
Rolling his eyes, Gajeel eased her off his legs to stand up. “Also know that your left wing is swollen near the base. Don’t fly for a while, I won’t have you injuring yourself further.” Stepping to the edge of the nest, he hopped out onto the altar. “I’ll be back.”
Her sense of safety wavered, and mild anger washed over her. “It’s not as though I asked to be injured and captured by a dragon today,” she muttered to herself. His footsteps halted, and she looked up to see him turn on his heel to face her.
“Do you want to end this war or not? Would you not sacrifice yourself for the sake of your people? Because I sure as hell would. I figured this would be the best alternative to one, or even both of us, having to die…” he retorted.
“You could have at least offered a treaty. Had you tried to arrange this peacefully, I would be much more open-minded to the idea, not to mention my wings wouldn’t look like a fledgling who fell out of her nest!” She replied somewhat defiantly.
In an instant, he was back in front of her, but now she was pressed against the pillows on the edge of the nest. His wings were flared out around him, and with the light from above him casting his face in darkness, she felt a true spike of fear run through her body.
“It can be a bit difficult to write out a treaty when you never learned to write in the language of your enemy,” he hissed, his eyes nearly glowing with frustration.
She was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. Of course he wouldn’t know how to write in Fiorean. He was a dragon from the north. Up here they spoke Draconic, a long forgotten language in Fiore. Merely four fae still knew the language from the time before the war, and they were incredibly difficult to get in contact with. So should a treaty come to the queen of Fiore in Draconic, it would have taken an exceptionally long time to get it translated.
“I’ll make a deal with you then,” she proposed as an idea came to mind.
“What is your deal little fairy? I’m interested to know what you could offer.” His wings slowly lowered to his back, but his expression hardly softened.
“Teach me Draconic, and in return I will teach you to write Fiorean. I know it’s not much, but all I can really offer you is knowledge. I was a scholar, a magic wielder. I’m sure we would both benefit from this deal, just think it over…”
Since she was a little girl, some hundred years ago, she had always been fascinated with the dragons that plagued her people. She had heard tales of their complex language, and had dreamt of learning it. So the thought of finally being able to have a chance at learning even a bit of the difficult language intrigued her.
He hesitated, standing to his full height above her. “I’ll consider it.” Then he was walking away again, leaving her and a dumbstruck Pantherlily in his nest to tend to her wings.
Ooh yay, prompts!!! Ok how about this: Bucky's therapist tell him to set goals for himself in his new life and after encountering a sleep deprived and injured Tony he found it; protecting and taking care of Tony Stark. Can be Post CW or reworked so CW didn't happened.
So I decided to do this as if CW never happened– Steve just brougth Bucky home to the tower and he is working through his post WS issues with therapy. And this ended up being more serious than I thought? I hope you guys like it.
Bucky turned the card over and over in his hand. “Set goals for your new life.” his therapist had said, and had given him a deck of cards, each one with a different daily goal.
Some of them were as simple as switching out his usual mind blanking run for a slow walk where he actually acknowledges his thoughts instead of running away from them.
Others were more complicated, like “Make dinner for the people that mean the most to you as a way of showing them how much their support means.”
Todays card said “Just because you struggle doesnt mean you are too broken to help someone else. Find someone who needs you and do one small thing for them. Helping others helps us heal.”
This card, more than the others, terrified him. Bucky was still barely sleeping through the night, still spent hours staring blankly at walls because he couldnt quite cope with everyday things.
How the hell was he supposed to help someone else?
He had tried approaching Natasha and seeing if she wanted help with her boxing, but she had said no, looking at him oddly for even asking.
He had offered to help Clint with target practiced, offered to help Bruce in the lab, to help Sam with his conditioning.
The problem was, Bucky didnt know how to do anything. All he had ever been was a soldier, and then a killer for seventy years. How was he supposed to help anybody with anything.
So here he sat, feeling sorry for himself and frustrated at his lack of progress and angry because he had failed at nearly all of his daily cards this last week and it looked like he was going to fail at this too.
And then the elevator doors opened, and Tony nearly fell out of it, stumbling towards the couch with his eyes only half open.
“Tony.” Bucky kept his voice very quiet, knowing that he tended to sound mean even when he was trying to be nice. “Are you alright.”
“Buck?” Tony nearly slurred, prying reddened eyes open to peer at him. “Could’ve sworn I was in my room. Are you in my room, Buck? Man I need to sleep. And I hurt my hand and–”
Tony swayed on his feet, and Bucky was moving before he even realized it, sliding his left arm around Tonys waist to keep him steady and leading him carefully to the couch, reaching for the first aid kit they kept on the end table.
“Sit right here.” Bucky sat next to him and opened the kit, cleaning the cut on Tonys palm quickly, murmuring soft apologies when Tony winced, and bandaging it neatly. “Better?”
“Mmmmmm.” Tonys eyes were already shut, just sitting on a soft surface pushing his body to shut down. “Jus gonna sleeep.”
“Oh okay. Do you want me to go, or– oh.” Bucky froze when Tony just leaned over into him, grumbling as he squirmed under the heavy metal arm, sighing in contentment when he finally could rest against Buckys chest.
Bucky couldnt do much else besides lay there, easing further onto the couch and he and Tony were both stretched out and feeling around for a blanket to cover Tonys shoulders.
It was hours later, damn near the next morning before Tony stirred and blinked up at Bucky with sleepy eyes.
“Buck. You are a lifesaver. Sleeping on you is about the most comfortable Ive ever been in my life.”
“Oh.” Bucky said helplessly.
“You dont mind?” Tony pressed. “I could keep you on retainer, you know. For all the other times I work myself into delirium you could just come and snuggle?”
“It would help me out.” Tony teased and Buckys eyes lit up.
“Yes! If it would help you.”
“Sure thing.” Tony yawned, but didnt move, just settled closer and was snoring again withina few minutes.
Bucky thought of the daily goal card in his pocket, and how good it would feel to put a big check mark on it as completed.