more-in-the-morning

Chapter Twenty-Two

The moon was far over the Aulmir by the time the Gathering party returned. They were exhausted and frustrated, slinking to bed without much more than a comment about Brokenstar being late and talking forever. Firepaw quickly joined his friends in the apprentice’s den in the hopes of striking up a conversation, but even Ravenpaw hardly responded to him. Firepaw then went outside for entertainment, only to see the Clan dispersing to rest. Sighing, he reluctantly followed suit, curling up by the entrance and thinking about nothing in particular. 

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Safe and Sound (Josh Dun)

Originally posted by tyjosephs

Pairing: Josh Dun/Fem!Reader
Words: 2000+
Warning(s): sexual harassment, some swears
A/N: So here is the fic thats base on a dream. it was a lucid one, almost died having it lol (i couldnt breath) also sorry if this seems duummbb but it is based off the dream i had and dreams can be a bit wonky. Its fan fiction so yeeahh. this probably sucks since i’ve been working on it at 3 am every morning.


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2

Run streak day 12 of 30. Having a bit of arch discomfort in my offending left foot, after running, but it doesn’t last and my heel is fine so I’m thinking it’s just being bitchy. Rolling out my foot with a golf ball seems to fix it.

Good things today: first sighting of crocuses blooming, my smaller booby bras are no longer over flowing and fit smoothly again, my jeans all fit once more, my run was effortless this morning, and I have time to run out for coffee right now! 😆☕

Troll’s fanfiction: “The Forbidden Fruit” [1/5]

This is a first, short chapter of my new Broppy story, The Forbidden Fruit. It is an Omegaverse!AU (if you don’t know anything about Omegaverse, you should read something about it, it’s amazing!). I hope you’ll enjoy it and, as “Light Blue Sky, Pink Bright Flower”, it’ll have 5 chapters (two of them will contain smut). I hope you’ll like it. :)

Couple: Broppy obviously, and a bit of ChenillexSuki in this chapter.


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Parseltongue

I get the Parseltongue kink in Drarry fics but what about Parseltongue as a PTSD trigger? 

Draco loves the early weekend mornings when both he and Harry are finally home together. He loves waking up before his lover to pad downstairs and make a drink from the espresso machine Hermione had given them as a wedding present. He never really appreciated the muggle contraption until one day when Harry had offhandedly admitted he preferred the pureblood’s lattes to the ones at the nearby cafe.  

Today though, Draco doesn’t find Harry sprawled out at his side. The Gryffindor is nowhere to be seen as the blond dresses in his day clothes and wanders into the kitchen. “Krecher, where’s Harry?” Malfoy inquires as the house elf hunches over the stove, his bony arms and legs tremble as he stirs a boiling pot. 

“Master is in the garden sirs.” It’s not the reply Draco had been expecting but he wastes no more time in making his way out into the crisp autumn morning. The sun hasn’t been out long. Draco can tell by the fading reds and yellows in the sky and the nip of cool air brushing across his nose… Still, despite it being a bit too chilly for the button up shirt and slacks he’s wearing  he can’t help but grin when he spots the mop of messy hair hunched over a rose bush. 

Harry is kneeling on the floor, rake laying forgotten at his side, along with a small pile of early fallen leaves. His back is facing the blond, his arm stretched out in front of him. “Is he petting something?” Draco muses as he moves quietly forward. Stray cats find themselves in their yard sometimes and he doesn’t want to be the one to chase it off. Besides, Harry is mumbling fondly to the creature, his voice soft and gentle and strangely endearing. 

At first, the words are incoherent but Draco finally draws close enough to see the thin, pointed nose of a snake reaching up to sit face to face with Harry. The scaly body is curled around itself, swaying to and fro every so often as it’s new friend hisses conversationally back at it. It’s a small, green garden snake, a common, harmless thing. Draco has seen hundreds of them before now but it’s not the tiny intruder that has him frozen to the spot. 

Harry’s words reach his ears then. Soft and caring and familiar, but the onslaught of memories rush through Draco’s mind like a tidal wave. Voldemort sitting in a chair with Nagini draped around his neck. Voldemort, making the same, low, hissing noises through his grey mouth. The macabre sing-song language Draco had listened to for more than a year back at Malfoy Manor…  It had served as a warning then, a summoning call, a battle cry, an announcement of death… And now… Now even knowing the difference, even hearing the change of tone and volume… It wasn’t enough to reassure the Slytherin. 

Draco shrinks back, suddenly feeling seventeen years old again. “D-Don’t…” They’re the only word he can’t force through his clenched jaw. 

Harry spins around in surprise, noting the terror filled face of his lover. “Draco?” He asks in confusion, moving to stand and paling as the blond takes another step back. “Draco what’s wrong?” Harry urges, reaching a cautious hand out, not sure why the Slytherin looks as if he’s seen a ghost. “Dre?” 

“D-Don’t do that!” Draco suddenly lashes out in anger, but his eyes are still wide and wet and more wild than Harry has ever seen them. “Don’t talk like that!” Draco snarls. 

“Dre?” 

“I don’t ever want to h-hear-” But he can’t say more than that. It’s too much, too soon, too raw for him to relive those memories. Already he faces them in his dreams, does he have to deal with it in his waking life as well? 

“You mean parseltongue?” Harry asks gently. It’s like talking to a child, Draco notes. The way Harry inches closer, afraid to scare him off, and maybe for good reason. Draco isn’t sure he could handle him touching him at this moment. “Draco, tell me. Did I do something wrong?” 

No. No he didn’t, and that’s what makes it worse. Draco doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling. Emotional talks had never been a strong point for the Malfoys. He’s opened up more now that they’ve been married but moments like these… when the dark, haunted past creeps on them both… He never knows how to explain himself. So he shakes his head, not sure what that means either but Harry is patient. He’s always patient with him. 

“Dre, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this would upset you.” Harry explains. They’ve both had their share of nightmares. On more than one occasion, Harry has woken to the sound of Draco’s pleading screams.. More than once has the blond held Harry’s arms down on the bed in an attempt to keep him from harming either one of them in his sleep. There have been many too many nights of cries and begs and an occasional, uncontrolled spell. Neither one ever brings it up the next day, they don’t ask about the other’s nightmares but now Harry sees the same, confused, haunted look in the pureblood’s eyes as he does every other night. Except it’s worse, it’s worse because this time, Harry knows he’s the cause of it “Draco I-” 

“He used to speak like that too…” Draco finally mumbles, unable to  stop the crack in his voice and Harry feels his heart sink to his stomach as he realizes what Draco is saying.  

“Voldemort.” Harry replies. Draco winces at the name, he hasn’t in a long while but today he looks as young as the Draco Malfoy on top of the Astronomy tower. 

“Just. Don’t.” It’s more of a plea then a demand but Harry is nodding all the same, feeling the frustration and anger at himself growing. He has tried so hard to keep those memories in the past. They don’t speak about the Death Eaters, about Lucius or Dumbledore or the battle. He doesn’t question Draco’s decision to wear a long sleeve shirt all day, every day of the year. He doesn’t talk about his day at work with the Aurors, or bring up Snape. Hell, Draco won’t even step foot into Diagon Alley. But this… This Harry hadn’t accounted for.

“I won’t. I promise. Not again.” He reassures the blond, taking a tentative step to his husband. “I’m sorry Dre.” 

Draco nods and though he doesn’t move away from the hesitant embrace, it takes a moment longer for him to relax against the brunette. 

Harry knows that tonight, Draco will sleep curled against his side, the pale fingers clutching onto his shirt for reassurance. It’ll begin as mumbles, then words. Small pleas about keeping Narcissa safe, pleas to stop the crucio curse… And Harry will lay there in those torturous moments, listening to his lover beg and he’ll wake him when the words turn to screams. Sometimes Draco cries himself back to sleep, sometimes, he pushes Harry away and leaves the room. But now, now Harry knows why on some nights, Draco asks him to sing to him. 

Harry will tell him he doesn’t know any songs and that his voice is terrible. And Draco will agree but insist anyways and tonight, tonight Harry won’t make a fuss. Because now, he knows that his words will drown out the other voices in the pureblood’s head and he knows Draco would do the same for him. 






Wednesday Workouts!

Yes, plural!

Sooo… run commuting is difficult. I’m rubbish at working out in the evenings as I basically have the entire day to talk myself out of it. I’m being 100% honest here, I will sit and come up with a million excuses not to run.

I also miss my morning gym sessions more than I thought I would. For me, the morning is easy. My alarm goes off and I’m at the gym within 30 minutes, I’m there before I’ve properly woken up, no time to talk myself out of it (unless I’ve slept really badly, gotta be cautious about lack of sleep and my epilepsy).

I have come up with a bright idea of getting to the gym as soon as it opens to fit in a little workout and still get to work for 9. I arrive late then work late on Mondays and Thursdays for spin and body pump but don’t fancy doing that everyday as I need some days where I arrive home at a reasonable time!

Yesterday morning I did 30 minutes on the cross trainer and 10 minutes on the rower. I think I could squeeze in a bit more but this was an initial test. Then the plan is to run home but giving myself the ok to skip it if I’m tired because I’ve already got a little workout in. Yesterday I happily ran home and didn’t feel too drained from it all. All together, that isn’t a massive amount of exercise and I think as long as I’m not doing crazy intense workouts then I think the occasional two a days are fine for me.

I’ve also decided to not wear my garmin when running home. I don’t track every run I do anyway, I know how far I’m going, I’m carrying a lot (I weighed my bag, 8lbs) and I don’t want that pressure of time / pace. However, now that my embrace watch is finally tracking activity, it knows when I’m running and gives a rough estimate. So that’s cool but I’m unlikely to look at it and judge like I would with my garmin.

I’ve always liked to have a scheduled rest day once a week (possibly a habit from training for races) but lately I’ve found myself just taking a rest day whenever. I think this is pretty good for me, I’m listening to my body a bit more.

AND… don’t want to jinx it but since I’ve posted a screen shot of my embrace stats then I may as well mention that I’m currently 12 weeks seizure free which is now the 2nd best I’ve done since my epilepsy got bad *dances*. 3rd place is 8 weeks and 1st place is 25 weeks. Just shy of half a year! Come on brain, you can do it!

☜BTS☞ - Omelas + Sinking of MV Sewol

☚conspiracy☛

The central idea of this scapegoat (the child who suffers in the benefit of the others) can be associated with the young victims of the Sewol tragedy. 

Omelas is Korea, a country which seems to be prosperous and full of happy people. Many South Koreans take pride in rising from postwar poverty to the developed country status. And in order to maintain this Utopical appearence, they would choose to forget the incident, or at least accept it as it is.
But there are many others tormented by the painful memories.

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. Between the Lines . 173

It was nearing evening when Lucy finally woke. The Games had continued after the first horrifying match with rules clearly stated aloud. Minerva had been taken off of Sabertooth’s team and replaced with a timid young woman. Sting had given Fairy Tail a fairly public apology, looking miserable.

Natsu had refused to leave Lucy’s side after the healing mages and Porlyusica had done what they could.

“I’m sorry, Natsu,” Wendy had said gently. “We can’t do a lot until she wakes up. We’ve dealt with the worst of the wounds. Doctors helped us and did x-rays. Her jaw was broken in two different places. She had a few cracked ribs we dealt with. The doctors said it would be best to wait for much more. If she’s awake in the morning, we’ll see. If not…they’ll take her away to the hospital.”

Natsu had been silently sitting beside Lucy since Wendy’s gentle comment. His hands gently messed with long blonde hair as Lucy slept away. And when she finally stirred, a pained moan leaving her lips, he nearly tripped over himself jumping to his feet. Happy, curled in his lap, yowled as he hit the floor. “Lucy?!”

She didn’t answer, flinching at pain he wanted to take away. But she blinked her brown eyes open and met his gaze before grimacing just barely.

“I’ll go get Wendy and the crazy witch lady,” he promised. He paused to lay a gentle kiss on her head and then bolted like a wild animal out of the room, leaving them behind. Happy crawled onto the bed to settle beside her.

Lucy felt a flash of worry for her keys, but was distracted when the door opened and Porlyusica entered with a strange man Lucy didn’t recognize. Natsu moved to slide in behind them, but the cranky older woman slammed and locked the door before he could.

“Hello, Miss Heartfilia,” the man - Lucy assumed he was a doctor - said as he approached. Porlyusica kept her distance, watching with icy eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Lucy snorted softly, not answering, and the doctor gently began to feel along her jaw and chin. She flinched, biting back a gasp.

“Wendy saw to the broken bones, but that’s all,” Porlyusica said curtly. “Anything else needs to heal on it’s own. Too much magic will make your immune system and other such things weak.”

Lucy didn’t move, but blinked in understanding.

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Might have written a follow on from yesterday’s painful fic to keep me occupied in the wait for today’s eps, set on Aaron’s release date from prison.

Hope it’s a bit less painful than the last one.

AO3 link here

day three hundred and sixty five, of three hundred and sixty five

You just want to leave.

You hadn’t slept; hadn’t wanted to. You hadn’t wanted to spend a single second further in this 4x6 cell with this thug sleeping in the bunk beneath you.

You hadn’t wanted to eat one more meal in that godawful canteen this morning.

You hadn’t wanted to wear these disgusting prison clothes for one second longer.

You hadn’t wanted to spend a single second in the company of these men; these animals who had made your life hell.

You heard the rattle of keys outside of your cell door, and the knock on the door came simultaneously with it being swung wide open.

“Dingle, time’s up.”

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