*shyly whispers* do u think u could do another Greek Mythology story~
“Your tapestries are so
fine,” the merchant says in wonder, “that you must be blessed by the goddess
Arachne tosses her
head, braided hair falling over her shoulder like an obsidian waterfall,
“What’s Athena got to do with it? My hands wove these, not hers.”
The merchant blanches
and looks to the sky, as if expecting Zeus himself to smite them for blasphemy.
Personally, she thinks the king of the gods has better thing to do with his
time. “Ah,” he says weakly, “I suppose.”
He pays her for her
wares and she leaves, almost immediately bumping into a hunched old woman with
grey eyes. “Do you not owe Athena thanks for your talent?” she croaks, gnarled
hands curled over a cane.
Arachne is not stupid,
but she is foolish. They will tell tales of it. She looks into those grey eyes
and declares, “Athena should thank me,
since my talents earn her so much praise.”
She pushes past her and
keeps walking, ignoring the goddess in humans skin as she disappears into the
They will tell tales of
her hubris. They will all be true.
The next day she bumps
into the same old woman at the market. Everything goes downhill from there.
“Know your place,
mortal,” Athena says, grey eyes narrowed. There is a crowd around them, and
Arachne could save herself, could walk away unscathed, and all she has to do is
say her weaving is inferior to that of a goddess.
She will not lie.
“I do,” she says
coolly, “and in this matter, it is above you.”
She is not honest as a
virtue, but as a vice.
Athena challengers her
to a weaving contest. She accepts.
Gods are not so hard to
find, if you know where to look.
“It’s a volcano,” the
baker repeats, looking down at her coins, as if he feels guilty for taking
money from someone who’s clearly not all there.
She grabs her bag of
sweet breads and adds it to her pack before swinging it over her shoulders,
“Yes, I know. Half a day’s walk, you said?”
“A volcano,” he insists, as if she did not hear him perfectly well the
first dozen times.
“Thank you for your
help,” she says. He’s shaking his head at her, but she knows what she’s doing.
She walks. She grows
hungry, but does not touch the bread she paid for, and walks some more. The
sun’s begun to set by the time she makes it to the base of the volcano. It’s
tall, impossibly large, and for a moment the promise of defeat threatens to
But Arachne does not
believe in defeat, in loss. They will tell tales of her hubris. Those tales
will be true.
She ties a scarf around
her braids then hikes her skirt up and ties the material so it falls only to
her thighs. She fits work roughened hands into the divots of cooled magma and
begins her slow ascent.
The muscles in her legs
and arms shake, and her hunger pains are almost as distracting. Her once white
dress is dirt smeared and torn and sweat makes her itch as it covers her body
and drips down her back.
“What are you doing?”
Arachne turns her head
and bites back a scream, looking into one giant eye. The cyclops holds easily
to the volcano’s edges, even though her hands are torn and bleeding. She
swallows and says, “I heard you like honeyed bread. Is it true?”
The creature tilts his
head to the side, baring his long fanged teeth at her. She thinks he might be
smiling. “You’ve been climbing for hours. What do you want?”
“Is it true?” she
repeats, refusing to flinch.
“Yes,” he says, looking
at her the same way the baker had, “it’s true.”
“There’s some sweet
bread in my pack, baked this morning,” she says, “it should still be soft.”
His hands are big
enough and strong enough that it could probably squeeze her head like a grape. Instead
he gently undoes her pack and reaches inside. The honey buns look comically
small in his large hands, and he swallows half of them in one bite. He licks
his fingers clean when he’s done, and his smile is just as terrifying the
second time around. “I am Brontes. Why are you climbing my master’s volcano?”
“I’m the weaver
Arachne,” she takes a deep breath, “I need your master’s help.”
They tell tales of
They are not true.
He’s got a broad,
angular face and short brown hair. His eyes are like amber set into his face,
and his arms are huge, and he’s rippling muscle from the waist up. He has legs
only to his knees. From there down his legs are bronze gears and golden wire,
replacements for the legs destroyed when Hera threw him from Mount Olympus.
“Had your look, girl?”
he asks, voice rough like he’s always a moment away from breaking into a
“Yes,” she says, and
doesn’t turn away, keeps looking.
His lips quirk up at
the corners, so it was the right move. The heat is even more oppressive inside
the volcano, and all around him cyclopses work, forging oddly shaped metal that
she can’t hope to understand. “You’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to find me,
girl. What do you want?”
She slides her pack off
her shoulders and holds it out to the god, “I have a gift for your wife. I have
woven her a cloak.”
He raises an eyebrow
and doesn’t reach for the bag, “You believe something made with mortal hands
could be worthy of the goddess of beauty?”
They will tell tales of
They will all be true.
With a gust of wind the
oppressive heat of the volcano is swept away, leaving her chilled. In its place
stands a woman – more than a woman. Aphrodite has skin like the copper of her
husband’s machines and hair dark and thick and long. Her eyes are deepest,
richest brown, piercing in their intelligence. People don’t tell tales of
Aphrodite’s cleverness. That is because people are stupid.
“Let’s see it then,”
she says, reaching inside the pack and pulling the cloak from its depths.
It unrolls beautifully.
It’s made from the finest silks, and it shimmers in the light from the forges.
The hem of the cloak is sea foam, speaking of Aphrodite’s beginning, and up
along the cloak is intricate patterns it tells of her life, of her marriage and
her worshippers and escapades, all with the detail of the most experienced
artist and the reverence of her most devoted followers.
Her lips part in
surprise and she slides it on, twirling like a child. “Gorgeous,” Hephaestus
says, though Arachne knows he does not speak of the cloak. She doesn’t take
The goddess smiles and
Arachne’s heart pounds in her chest. She does her best to ignore it – Aphrodite
is the goddess of love, after all. It is only expected. “Very well,” the
goddess says, “you have my attention.”
Aphrodite’s attention is a heavy thing. “I have offended Athena,” she says,
“She has challenged me to a weaving contest.”
Their faces somber.
Hephaestus rubs the edge of a sleeve between his fingers and says, “Athena will
lose such a contest, if judged fairly. She does not take loss well.”
“I know,” she says,
“you are friendly with Hades, are you not?”
There are no tales of
their friendship. But she’s staking her life on its existence, because why
wouldn’t it exist – both of them even tempered, both shunned by Olympus, both
Gods hate being made to
feel lesser. It is why they say Persephone was kidnapped, why they say
Aphrodite cheats with Ares. It is why Athena will crush her when Arachne wins
the weaving contest.
“Clever girl,” Hephaestus
Aphrodite stares at her
reflection in a convenient piece of polished silver. Arachne assumes Hephaestus
left if lying there for that express purpose. “Very well!” the goddess says,
not looking at her, “when Athena sends you to the underworld, we will entrench
upon our uncle for your release.” She turns on her heel and points a finger at
her. Arachne blushes for no reason she can think of. “In return, you will weave
me a gown, one equal to my own beauty.”
A gown as exquisite as
the goddess of beauty. An impossible task.
They will tell tales of
They will all be true.
The contest goes as
expected. Athena’s tapestry is lovely, but Arachne’s is lovelier.
The goddess’s face goes
red in rage, and her grey eyes narrow. Arachne stands tall, ready to accept the
death blow coming for her.
The blow comes.
Death does not.
She is an insect. Even if she can make it back to Hephaestus’s
volcano, even if they can help her, they will not know it is her. She has no
hope left, no course of action, she should just give up. But –
She doesn’t believe in
defeat, in loss.
It was a terribly long
journey on foot, that first time. It is even longer this time, although now she
has eight legs instead of two. She makes it to the volcano, and creeps in
between crevices, until she finds out a hollowed room, one with a sliver of
sunlight and plenty of bugs to keep her fed.
Athena’s cruel joke of
allowing her to weave will be her downfall. Her silk comes out a golden yellow
color – it will look exquisite against Aphrodite’s copper skin.
It takes seven years
for her to complete it. She hasn’t left this room in the volcano in all that
time, and as soon as it’s done she scurries out back toward the village. She’s
a large insect, but not that large.
She arrives just as the
sun begins to rise, and leaves before the first rays have even touched the
earth, her prize tied to her back with her own silk.
Arachne doesn’t return
to her room. Instead she goes to the more popular parts of the volcano, hurries
and runs around terrifying stomping feet until she finds who she’s looking for
and scurries up his leg and onto his shoulder.
“Huh,” Brontes looks
onto his shoulder and blinks. “What on earth are you?”
She cautiously skitters
down his arm, waiting. He bends closer and lightly touches her back. “Is – is that
a piece of a honey bun?”
She looks up at him,
waiting. It’s her only chance, if he doesn’t remember, if he doesn’t understand
His face slowly fills with
a cautious kind of wonder. “Arachne?” She
jumps in place, being unable to nod, and Brontes cautiously cradles her in his
massive hands, “We must find the Master immediately!”
She jumps down, landing
in front of him and running forward. “Wait!” he calls, and she makes sure he’s running
after her before skittering back to her corner of the cave. It’s almost too
small for him to enter but he squeezes inside and breathes, “Oh.” He stares for
several moments, and Arachne climbs her web and waits. Brontes shakes himself
out of his reverie and uses his powerful wings to bellow, “MISTRESS APHRODITE!”
There’s that same
breeze and she’s in the crevice with them, “What was so important, Brontes,
that you had to yell?”
Arachne sees the exact
moment that the goddess sees the gown, golden yellow and glimmering, made
entirely of spider silk. “Beautiful,” she says, reaching out a hand to brush
down the bodice. Her head then snaps up, “Brontes, where’s Arachne?”
She warms at that, that
Aphrodite knew it was her weaving even though she hasn’t been seen in seven
They’ve told tales of
They are all true.
Brontes points at the
web, and Aphrodite steps over and holds out her hands. Arachne crawls onto the
goddess’s palms. “Athena is more powerful than I am, I cannot undo her work,”
she says, “but I know someone who can.”
Then they are in front
of a river. A handsome young man stands there waiting with a boat. “Goddess
Aphrodite,” he says, “we weren’t expecting you.”
returns, “I need to see Persephone.”
The man’s face stays
cool, and for a moment Arachne fears they will be refused and she will be stuck
in this form forever. Then he smiles and says, “My lady is of course available
for her favored niece.” He holds out a hand to help her onto the boat, “Please
come with me.”
Arachne weaves a dress
for Hades’s wife as a thank you, and returns to her volcano.
“I can take you
somewhere else,” Aphrodite says, “you don’t have to hide here.”
Arachne pauses at her
loom. She has lived in this volcano for seven years. It’s her home. “Would you
like me to leave?” she asks instead.
Aphrodite scoffs, “Of
course not! How could I dress myself without you here?” She’s wearing the
spider silk dress Arachne spun for her, and she’s working on another for the
goddess now. Aphrodite runs a gentle finger down Arachne’s cheek and for a
moment she forgets to breathe. “You are the finest weaver to ever exist.”
She looks up at the
goddess, “Then as the god of crafts and goddess of beautiful things, where else
would I belong besides with you and Hephaestus?”
To declare your company
equal to that of gods is the height of arrogance and blasphemy.
They tell tales of her
“An excellent point,”
Aphrodite murmurs, and tucks a stray braid behind Arachne’s ear.
This whole TOP marijuana scandal really pisses me off. So many people are defending TOP while criticizing the female trainee and want her career ruined before it began and whenever people bring up how YG basically said nothing about Boms “scandal” and left her career to get ruined they say it’s different. It’s the same fucking thing but of course men get away with so much 🙄
(okay so I accidentally deleted this so reposting it whoops)
because this sweet angel needs more appreciation
she raised Alcyoneus with her powers at like the age of 12 or 13????
and then she proceeds to stop raising him, so she caUSES AN ERUPTION THAT BLOWS UP AN EFFING ISLAND??
an I S L A N D
then might i remind you that she knew that she’d be risking her own life + she’d get an angry primordial after her
Hazel saves the world b4 Percy Jackson (pass the dam message)
she gives up Elysium, ETERNAL PEACE AND HAPPINESS to save her mother – who basically used her as a money making machine – from ETERNAL DAMNATION (which she should deserve)
she survives the hellish roman wolf training thing with a bunch of wolves which might I add is fucking TERRIFYING because you are being trained by WOLVES who will E A Tyou if they decide that you’d be a lousy soldier
and then she somehow travels all the way to Camp Jupiter from Wolf House. This itself should be some major accomplishment
and she is a big 3 kid aware of her powers and stuff how many monsters do you think she had to fight to get there????
Hazel tames ARION who is said to be tamed by the STRONGEST FEMALE WARRIOR
and friendly reminder that the Amazons are savage female warriors that worship Ares ( the god of war ), Bellona ( goddess of war ) and Athena ( goddess of war strategy)
DO YOU SEE THE PATTERN??
In Alaska, Hazel defeats the giant that she almost raised a few decades back ( with the help of the amazing panda bear Zhang )
Now this is a theory which is totally possible bec i have hard evidence with me, So remember that time she picked up a bunch of battle gear from the water in SoN?? And that time she stole Narcissus’ shield from him with her powers in MoA??
Now imagine her doing that but to people actually fighting her like she can pull out swords from the enemies hands
SHE STANDS UP TO A LITERAL GODDESS BY SAYING THAT SHE’LL MAKE HER OWN PATH
She uses Scirion’s own trick against him with the help of the mist, and it was the FIRST TIME SHE EVER USED THE MIST
She beats Pasiphaë WITH THE MIST, and might i remind you that Pasiphaë is supposed to be AMA-ZHANG at using the mist??
bitch you thought
okay there that’s it, I probably missed something but that’s okay because it’s sort of 2 in the morning and i have homework bye
Jean-Michel Basquiat and Madonna photographed by Stephen Torton, 1982.
Madonna and Basquiat dated for a while, but his heroin addiction ended up pulling them apart. “He was an amazing man and deeply talented. I loved him,” she said. “When I broke up with him, he made me give all [his paintings] back to him. And then he painted over them black.” She regrets giving the art back, but felt pressured to do so since it was something he had created. (The Howard Stern Show, March 2015)
Madonna: “Basquiat was my boyfriend for a while, and I remember getting up in the middle of the night and he wouldn’t be in bed lying next to me; he’d be standing, painting, at four in the morning, this close to the canvas, in a trance. I was blown away by that, that he worked when he felt moved. And they gave jobs to everyone. Keith would meet kids on the street and ask them to come stretch his canvases for him. Basquiat had every B-boy and every graffiti artist in his loft. He was constantly giving everything away. I think they felt guilty that they became successful and were surrounded by people who were penniless, so they shared what they had. They were incredibly generous people, and that rubbed off on me. You stay inspired that way. I could never work in a recording studio where you have this lovely view and a beach and the waves are crashing. For me, it’s all about being in a tiny room with little windows. It’s almost like you have to be in a prison. And you can create beauty when you’re in that sort of deprived environment, which is a re-creation of your formative years.”
“I remember having conversations with Keith [Haring] and with Basquiat about the importance of your art being accessible to people,“ she recalled. “That was their big thing—it should be available to everyone. It was so important for Keith to be able to draw on subways and walls. And Basquiat used to say to me, ‘You’re so lucky that you make music, because music comes out of radios everywhere.’ He thought that what I did was more pop, more connected to pop culture than what he did. Little did he know that his art would become pop culture. But it’s not like we really had discussions about the meaning of art. I remember hearing them talk about those things.”
Summary: (Bucky POV) Nat tricks you into leading a road trip with Bucky, Sam and Steve. Her plot is partly to get the boys to travel for fun for once but mostly to get you and Bucky together. You and Bucky, who seemingly despise each other.
Warnings: swearing, super mild smoot (it’s not really even smut)
Word Count: 4501
Author’s Note: This part is way too damn long. I really just like the ending. But I also couldn’t figure out what I wanted to cut so you’re getting all of it.
As we climb back to the car, Y/N has slipped off of Sam’s shoulders and shoved past him, nearly running up the trail, farther away from Sam. And from me. When we make it to the top of the trail and the edge of the parking lot, Steve looks to me with a shocked and unsure shrug, lifting his hands up in question. She barely speaks to anyone, only muttering a disgruntled, “Trunk, please” to Steve.
Once we’ve changed into dry clothes, Y/N tosses her now useless phone haphazardly into the trunk and grabs for her dated Atlas before slipping into the car without a word. She doesn’t move closer to me, she doesn’t look up from her Atlas. Goddamn it. She’s so upset. “Go left,” she instructs with a heavy sigh as she flips through the pages until she finds the map for South Dakota. She traces over an already marked road until it reaches the end of the page, before moving quickly over to Wyoming.
I went to Tinley with the intent of picking up a nice birthday snake, if I saw one I really liked. I got Bram, my Malagasy hognose, on Saturday.
But then on Sunday, I walked out of the show with a crested gecko. I didn’t mean to- we were leaving the show and heading back to the train station when I picked him up. There was this lady in the bathroom with a crestie in a kritter keeper and I said how cute he was- and she said she was trying to get rid of him. He was a geck she’d bought her son back in October and she wanted to sell him (which isn’t allowed, non-vendors are not allowed to sell animals at the show) because her son had gotten bored of him. She then was telling me about how her son “loved” his crested geckos- he had five of them he kept together, but then one of them died, and he was afraid to take this one out and hold him because he was the one that harassed the others, being the biggest male in the tank- and yes, there were multiple males being kept together. She then mentions- and it’s after 4, the show’s technically over- that if she can’t find a buyer, she was just going to let him go in the parking lot and tell her son she found him a new home. I offered to take him off her hands, but she wasn’t going to let him go to to a new home without some money.
At that point, I seriously debated just grabbing the kritter keeper and sprinting out of there. But instead I offered her a handful of cash, which she made a big deal about taking- like I should be thanking her for how little I was getting him for- but at that point, I didn’t care, I just wanted to get him away from her. I feel kinda bad because I always tell people not to get impulse pets, but at the same time I don’t feel bad because she was going to let him go in the parking lot. I know I gave her money, but I’m more inclined to see this as a rescue situation than a purchase.
So yeah. This is him!
I have no idea how old he is, who produced him, or anything like that. All I know is that he’s fairly friendly- the lady said that her son was afraid to get him out because he was bitey, but he walked all over my hand and accepted water and gecko diet without any fuss when I took him out to weigh him- he still has his tail, and his calcium sacs are basically depleted. I know that males are typically going to have smaller calcium reserves, but I did want to check because I’ve got no history about what he’s been eating. Apparently he’s “picky” and won’t eat anything but watermelon Pangea, but he’s already had some Pangea+bugs with me, so I think it’s got more to do with the stress of cohabitation than anything else. He seems to be in decent health- other than low calcium and a bit of what appears to be nose rub, he seems fine! He weighs 48 grams and doesn’t seem to want to murder me, despite being told that he was “bitey” and “a psycho.” He’s got a vet appointment on Wednesday- I’m getting a full blood panel and an x-ray because I’m worried about MBD. If he poops before then, I’ll get him a fecal, but if he doesn’t, I’ll just get one when I can.
This is the cage I set up for him today. It needs more work- definitely more perches, and I might swap out the moss for something solid- but he’s being QTd in the closet right now, so I’ve got some time to pick up some more things! Definitely more horizontal perches and places to hide- maybe more leaves and foliage, too!
Summary : Chris moves in next door. Only thing is, he isn’t alone. *based off my out of bounds series*
Warning : Language and VERY LIGHT smut Word Count : 1.9K A/N : So I was just only going to post on my wattled but some of you don’t have it, so for now, until September, I will post on both here and my wattpad. Enjoy!
The breeze fell still, and everything seemed so quiet.
Or so it seemed.
Your fingers were deep in Chris’ hair as your lips molded against his. You were both so caught up in each other, taking every second in. Until the sound of a dog barking caught your attention, breaking the kiss.
something I think we are forgetting in the death bargain feysand makes is that…it really is another expression of equality. It’s Rhysand’s promise to her that he won’t die or kill himself in order to save the world without taking her happiness into consideration. He won’t pull the same shit he pulls to fix the cauldron ever again. He won’t sacrifice himself to save the world if it means leaving Feyre alone. He understands how much she needs him, finally, and his acceptance of the bargain at the end proves that. Idk, it’s a neat character growth moment for Rhys. Like…Mr. King of I will kill myself to save my friends because I am worthless finally realizes that he is in fact worthy of his mate and that she needs him as much as he needs her.
Equality isn’t just “we have the same powers,” or “we treat one another the same.” It’s also “we each feel worthy of being with the other person” and “my partner needs me as much as i need them” and “I won’t hurt myself to help my partner unless I talk to them about it first.” Feyre makes Rhys promise they will go together. Because she needs to know that he won’t literally kill himself to save the world. She needs to know that he won’t just…leave her again. Because Rhys wouldn’t leave if he knew Feyre would also die. And he accepts this bargain, demonstrating that he finally feels worthy of being with her, and also that she will/should be included in big decisions that could lead to death.
So death bargain = more feysand equality. Yes, it’s stupidly romantic and unrealistic but…it also is a nice compliment to how Rhysand sacrifices himself at the end.
On the flipside, this moment shows how utterly terrified Feyre is of losing Rhys again. And seeing as she just physically felt what it was like for him to die, it makes sense. Sure it’s dramatic as hell and I admit that I rolled my eyes, but is it in line with the overall drama of the mating bond….yes.
Y'ALL if (pre-reveal) marinette just suddenly gathered all of the confidence and sass we all know she’s capable of, marched right up to adrien, and asked him out, he would, without a doubt, no questions asked, in a heartbeat, say yes
„Slow down, please!” Lily’s voice echoed in the corridors as she tried
to grabbed your arm. You felt dizzy, although the potion brought a relaxing
feeling over your entire body. Lily stopped you in front of the Great Hall and
cupped your face. „Look, are you sure you are okay?”
„I feel wonderful.” – you
whispered a same tone as her before you pecked her forehead. She laughed at you
as you stepped into the hall, heading to the Gryffindor table to your friends.
morning to my favourite boys!” – you shrieked, kissing the boys on their
cheeks. Remus smiled but frowned, Peter flushed, Sirius kissed you back, James
grinned like a kid.
„Evans, what have you done to
her?” Sirius asked with an amused face. Lily played with his hair; her eyes avoiding
the boys’ face.
„Well, you know… she had this
horrible headache, so I made her a potion… don’t look at me like this, I made
it a thousand times before! But I probably added a little bit more bitterroot
than I should… BY ACCIDENT, of course!”
„So, technically, you drugged
her.” – James said, trying to suppress his laugh as you placed a lots of toasts
in your plate before started to build a house from them.
„No, I didn’t!” She protest,
and looked at you with a big sigh. „I should take her to the Hospital Wing. She
can’t go to the classes like this.”
„Are you really want to
deprive us from this? Look at her,
she’s so cute, I wanna watch her all day.” You snapped your head up at Sirius
words with a long „Ooooooh” and made
your way to him. Sitting down next to him, you embraced his neck with one hand
and murmured with a mellifluous tone, inches from his face. „YOU are the cute
one, you know? So cute.”
„Well, if you insist…” He
looked like a five year old kid on Christmas morning and you were his present.
Lily jumped up. „Okay, I really take her to Madam Pomfrey.”
„NO!” – you yelled, standing
up too. „I have to go to Magical of Care Creature. Magical for… Creature… so,
you know. That.”
„Calm down Evans, we’ll take
care of her. She’s just all funny, she’ll do no harm.”
Lily sighed again. „Alright,
alright… But don’t do anything stupid with her!”
„What are you talking about?
We would never do anything stupid.” James smiled, taking Lily’s hand.
Ten minutes later you were
sitting on the grass between James and Sirius with a bowtruckle in your left
hand, a quill on your right, and a parchment on your lap. As the time passed,
you weren’t so exhilarated anymore, but you felt yourself groggy, so sometimes
you just leaned to either James’ or Sirius’ shoulder, earning an even bigger
sigh from Lily than earlier. „We really should’ve taken her to the Hospital
Wing…” – she repeated.
„Lily, I’m fine!” – you assured,
showing your drawing to her. „See?”
„That’s… a unicorn. We have to
draw… where is your bowtruckel?!” She shrieked, but James lifted up his hand
with two creature.
„Right there, my love.”
Lily shook her head with a
smile and continued his work before you spoke up.
„James, wanna know a secret?”
„Y/N, for your own good, I
suggest you to SHUT. UP.”
„Shhh.” James leaned closer to
you, grinning. „Tell me.”
You giggled before you
whispered so quietly in his ear, it was a miracle that even he could hear. „I’m
in love with Sirius.”
He let out a girly scream,
still grinning. „What did she said?” Sirius asked, leaning closer to you and
„Sorry Padfoot, I won’t tell
my friend’s secret.”
He huffed, looking at you
next. „Then you tell me, Y/N.”
You reached out and ruffled up
his hair. „I can’t.”
„Keeping secrets from me and
touching my hair? You playing a dangerous game, darlin’.”
A small chuckle left your
mouth before you rested your head against his shoulder. „I know you secretly
What was his answer, you
haven’t heard, since you fell asleep. But only for a few seconds, until you
felt two big hands around your lower back, keeping you steady. „Easy there.
Hey. Are you alright?” Sirius asked with a concern in his voice, lifting your
chin up so your eyes could met. With a sleepy blink, you just nodded.
„I think she really should go
to the Hospital Wing.” This time it was Remus, but now all of them agreed with
„No, no I’m okay, we still
Sirius lifted you up from the
ground and cupped your cheeks. „I’ll go with you to your dorm so you can sleep.
Don’t worry about the classes, one day skipping is not the end of the world.
Can you do that for me?” He stroked your cheeks with his thumb; his gaze burned
He told the professor you
feeling ill, so he should escort you up to the Hospital Wing. Of course you
didn’t go there but your dorm where he helped you to get into bed and threw a
blanket over you.
„Need anything else?” – he
asked, sitting next to you on the bed, stroking your upper arm.
„Stay with me, please?”
„Encouraging me to skip my
classes?” – he said with a cocked eyebrow.
„Like it’s big deal for you.”
He laughed. „Please. I want cuddles.” With an innocent smile, you batted your
eyelashes at him.
His eyes widened. „You want me
to cuddle with you?”
„How could I say no?” – he
sighed with a smirk as he crawled next to you, arms wrapped around you from
behind with legs interwined. His warm body pressed to yours, his calming scent
made you relaxed and sleepy again.
„You’re so comfy.”
„Am I?” – he mumbled; his hot
breath tickled your skin as he buried his face into your neck.
„Mhm. So soft. Like a puppy.”
He laughed loudly and kissed
your cheek. „Funny mood, aren’t we?”
You turned around, a hand
pressed against his chest, an other cupped his cheek. He smiled at you kindly
whilst rubbed your back, and you slowly leaned on, placing an open mouthed kiss
on his soft lips. His hand stopped from the surprise, but kissed you back
almost immediately. After you pulled back, you rested your head on the crook if
his neck, with a smile on your face, ready to fell asleep.
„What was that?”
„I think you can recognize a
You could felt his smirk
against your forehead as he started to rubbing your back again gently. “S’all right. Sleep now, my silly girl.”
Nick/Judy. Judy is pregnant with Nick's kit, and she is experiencing predatory cravings in public and gets unnerved by it, Nick tries to console her in the only way he knows how, hustling her.
Rabbit do not normally eat meat. They can. In the same way a car can make every restaurant a drive through. But just because it can, doesn’t mean it should.
Eating meat can cause stomach issues among some other heath related things for a rabbit. Because well they don’t eat it.
Except Judy is craving it.
Like craving it.
In the middle of the afternoon. In the middle of a shopping mall.
It’s not something rabbit did. Then again most rabbits didn’t have a hybrid child growing inside them that needed certain proteins to develop.
And Judy knew she should really care about craving a Big Bug Burger, or sushi, or a fish stew. Or even eating it in public. She was at that point in her pregnancy where she didn’t really care what she looked like. Because her ankles hurt, and the kit just loves kicking her insides around for sport. Not to mention the hormones.
But the last time she ate something like that in public, everyone stared. Like full on started like there was something seriously wrong with her for getting withing an inch of proteins.
Really made her not want to ignore the craving.
But then the baby…
“Judy relax,” Nick said calmly beside her. “The doctor said not to get too stressed out, and your thumping like crazy.”
“Sorry,” Judy said with a weak grin. “I’m just hungry, Nick.”
“So eat,” The fox said easily. Judy turned to look at him and frowned. “Ah,” The fox sounded, instantly understanding. “I’ll grab us a snack than.”
“Nick, it’s fine…” Judy started, but the fox walked out of range.
Judy sighed as the fox disappeared into the crowd of mammals at the food court. She grumbled to herself as she moved to sit down at a near by table. She easily propped her feet up on of the the chairs and started up at the ceiling.
Nick is too good sometimes. He’s more than willing to go out and order or cook whatever Judy wants, at whatever times she wants it. And as a fox, and a natural omnivore, no mammal bats an eye at him ordering anything. But it still doesn’t help the fact that Judy has to eat whatever he orders for in public. Where ever mammal will make a point to stare…and no doubt whisper.
It took a few moments for Nick to return, with two containers for something in his paws. He set them down on the table, sliding one on the table towards her.
“One Tofu noddle bowl for the lovely lady.” Nick stated.
Judy frowned slightly at the bowl. The word tofu scribbled on the top. While the one Nick still had had Grubs written on it. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it would probably curve the craving enough for to wait till she got home and could hunger down with a bag of barbecue cricked legs.
“Thanks,” She said softly as she peeled off the top, stabbed her fork into the noodles.
She raised the food to her mouth and a pleasant crunch surprised her. Along with the taste of bugs she had been craving. Her eyes brightened instantly, as she glanced at her husband. The fox grinning at her knowingly as he munched on a forkful of tofu and noddles.
“Clever, clever fox.” Judy stated gleefully as she dove in for another bite.
“It’s called a hustle sweetheart.” He stated so easily.
Judy rolled her eyes as she hummed happily at him.
AN: I don’t know. But this is totally something I could see Nick doing. Ordering foods that look similar for protiens and veggie eaters, then switching them for Judy.