so I got this idea from @peppermintquartz and I just had to start it (yes I know ugh I have like a billion WIPs I can't help it) (Buck whump, NDE, bucktommy "platonic" marriage of convenience, friends to lovers)
“What happened?” Buck asked. Or, he tried to ask; it came out more like wuh-hap’n? The nurse seemed to understand well enough. She gave him a sympathetic smile.
“You were in a vehicular accident,” she said. “As I understand from your Captain, you were struck from behind by a speeding car while attending an emergency.”
Buck stared at her, stunned.
“Your doctor will be in soon to discuss your full status,” the nurse said gently. Then a slight frown crossed her face, and she hesitated, before finally saying, “I hate to ask, but there’s been some trouble identifying a next of kin? Your paperwork nominates a Mr Nash, but—”
“Dead,” Buck croaked. The nurse nodded. “Maddie Han,” he said, struggling to enunciate the name clearly. “Sister.”
“Thank you,” the nurse said. “I’ll make a note to update the rest of your care team.”
“How long?” Buck asked, before the nurse left.
“You’ve been in the ICU for three days,” she said. Buck’s heart sank. Three days? But… “Get some rest, Mr Buckley.”
The nurse left, and Buck stared at the blurry doorway despondently.
Thank you for the tag a while ago, dear @sauron-kraut
I tag @saintstars @rebornflameofthenoldor @belforte @starsofarda @gospelxforxthexfallenxones @kisses-in-the-void @a-dwarfs-dream-of-space @yewfae @winds-of-zephyr416 @mai-komagata @angband-thrall-no-1035 and anyone who wants to share a WIP fic or art with us!
Today I give you a little snippet from the second chapter of my angbang longfic Lemons give you Lemonade. It's still in the editing stage, and the chapter needs a lot of work still, but have this snippet featuring Orcobal in the kitchens of Angband.
After waking up and enjoying a brief cuddle with a very giddy Melkor, Mairon went on his usual morning run through Angband. This was the most efficient way for him to stay physically active while keeping all the comings and goings of the fortress monitored to his satisfaction. The Elves in the dungeons were making a bit of trouble. But to his satisfaction, Lungorthin, the Dungeon Demon on duty had everything under sufficient control, so Mairon strolled on to visit the forges and dote a little on his favorite smiths. Praise and encouragement pushes further than the whip, is one lesson from Aulë he still kept in mind after many ages. The conversation with Melkor had brought a lot up again. He felt at home in the heat and clamor of the greater metallurgy halls he had himself designed.
After updating his side-projects and light banter with the smiths, he took a moment to double check if everyone had everything they needed for the ongoing efforts for re-arming after that victorious, yet costly battle. Gondolin was yet to invade, and Mairon was adamant to remind everyone that just because it was one hidden city, those stubborn Noldor would still be very capable of offering ample resistance.
And then there were the kitchens to inspect. Orcobal himself, head of the Housekeeping and Maintenance Orc Squad, was serving as chef today. When Mairon entered the kitchen through the back door he was busy putting together a rather generous sandwich consisting of what mostly looked like a large amount of cured beef. “Is that for Melkor?” He asked drawing attention to his presence. Orcobal grunted and placed three evenly cut large slices of pickled cucumber on the meat. “I’ll be there presently, Lieutenant!” He said raising a hand in acknowledgement. Mairon waited while watching Orcobal layer some of what looked like Melkor’s favorite cheese on top of the pickles. Then he placed the sandwich on a heat-proof plate and into the little oven on the counter top. And before he turned around to talk to Mairon, Orcobal reached for one of the reminders signs on the shelf above him: Finish After Next Task. “Now you have my full attention.” Orcobal put down the sign in front of the oven and wiped his hands on his apron.
“Did Melkor just order this?” Mairon jabbed a finger in the air towards the sandwich waiting in the little oven. “Has he already woken?”
“Not quite.” Orcobal answered. “Little Shiny just dropped by a short while ago and ordered this sandwich for Melkor.”
“Little Shiny?” Mairon inquired, but quickly recalled that Thuri was taking care of that child again. “I’ve got a weird feeling about that.” Mairon half-smiled and filed that thought under trust Thuri. “Of course, the little one is scampering around while he is in deep slumber.” He waved off the concern he had just voiced. There is no use in getting concerned about little things right now!
“I don’t know the details, but Shiny was very exited to see the kitchens and place an order for the Dark Lord.” Orcobal said and lead the way around the back of the kitchen to towards the storage caverns for Mairon to inspect. As the Lord of Angband and Melkor’s Lieutenant he preferred to keep his eyes on the current stock status and what was incoming when and were. There was still enough grain and cured meat in storage, and more to arrive later this day. Mairon called his inspection round if the day done and headed towards the main event. Tidying up Gothmog’s wardrobe. He was expecting more whips this time.
Plagg spiraled out of the ring and into existence. He rubbed his paws over his eyes and blinked blearily, “What’s up kid? I was halfway through a dream about the most beautiful block of Rouchefo-”
Plagg blinked again, turning in the air to regard Aeon.
“Why is the robot girl here, and why is she blue?”
Aeon replied, “That is because the projectors in this device are limited in scope.”
Plagg nodded, looking back to Adrien, then froze. His head craned slowly back to Aeon. He dropped to the floor.
“Ummm meow? Meow? Cat sounds?” Plagg attempted.
Adrien snorted in much needed amusement. “Plagg, Aeon knows my identity. She has for a while.”
As promised, a snippet from the fic that won the poll, Harsh Light.
For contex: In this story Alisaie has confided in Ariane what she saw in the Great Gubal Library, though she's begged Ariane not to tell Alphinaud until they can find answers.
Tagging: @farfromdaylight @chocochipbiscuit @orime-stories @coldshrugs and anyone else who wants to share.
***
“You’ve known Urianger a long time, haven’t you?”
Thancred looked up with some surprise, regarding Ariane curiously with his one uncovered eye. They shared a short strip of bar at the Forgotten Knight, though the seatless tavern did not invite one to linger, and Ariane had lost any taste for drinking in public. She’d found Thancred here nursing a mug of ale without any particular enthusiasm, and it felt a better place to broach the subject than the Fortemps Manor sitting room.
She felt a twinge of guilt, even as she knew that by the letter she was breaking no trust. After all, Alisaie had only asked that she say nothing to Alphinaud…
“Aye, I suppose I have… though truth be told, any time before the Calamity feels like an age ago, these days. He is an old friend. We studied under Master Louisoix together, back in Old Sharlayan… before he sent me to Thanalan.”
“Have you spoken with him recently?”
“Not so recently. Much else has occupied my attention, I confess. …Why do you ask?”
“I was just going to ask if anything had seemed… off, with him.”
“More than usual, you mean? I’m well aware he’s not been himself since Moenbryda’s passing… though I daresay it’s hard to notice, if you don’t know him. She was his oldest friend, and they were… well, it’s not my place to say. But he took it hard.” Thancred glanced her way. “I daresay you understand.”
For some reason, the acknowledgment surprised her. Perhaps it shouldn’t have. “All too well. I’m sure you do too.”
“Aye,” Thancred said, heavily, and took a long swallow from his mug. “Aye.”
She could have asked more. But what was she to say? Thancred, I thought I saw your old friend with our enemies, only it was raining and his face was covered and I barely know what he looks like and I only really recognized his eyes, perhaps, and then again perhaps not. Thancred, Alisaie swears she saw your old friend consorting with an Ascian. No, I wasn’t there, but she’s sure it was him. Thancred, I just wanted to ask if you thought your old friend, whom you’ve known far longer than you’ve known me, would ever betray us all and everything he and your old master stood for and damn our world to save another. Thancred, what happened to you with Lahabrea, which was probably the worst thing you’ve ever been through and not something you want to discuss, do you think it could happen to—
It was the latter thought, Ariane realized, that worried her the most. To the other questions, she knew without asking what Thancred’s answers would be. No, he was as devoted to our cause and to Master Louisoix and to the salvation of this world as anyone could be. No, he would never betray us. Moreover, given what little she knew of the man, she was inclined to agree.
There had to be a reason. And it might be a reason of Urianger’s own design… or it might be the will of another, imposed upon him.
She leaned on the bar, and fidgeted with her untouched drink, and still she could not bring herself to raise the question. For to do so would be to tell all, and it still was not enough. Not enough to justify such an accusation—and surely Thancred would see it as such.
It sat bitter in her heart, the thought of all of them together, in faraway Old Sharlayan, working and studying under their Master Louisoix. Thancred, Urianger, Y’shtola, Yda, Papalyma, Moenbryda. The Archons. While she had languished at home, the dutiful daughter, keeping Mother's hearth and cataloging her tinctures and soothing her worries as though that would save them when the red moon fell, they had been at the forefront, rallying the Grand Companies and standing against the darkness. They had welcomed her for her “gift,” and made use of her skills such as they were, and they’d hardly been unkind, but she wasn’t one of them, and she never would be. Just a farm girl turned adventurer turned… whatever she was now.
Who was she, to pretend she knew any of them at all?
(sorry that it’s the one obligatory nice(ish) jason scene before she’s swept off her feet by the metal loser boy in the woods)
.
“Goodnight, Jason,” she whispers quietly into the dead silence that surrounds her. There is no reply. She is alone again. “…I love you.”
She brushes the curve of his bicep until he stirs, humming a long rasp.
“Morning, angel,” Jason stretches along the mattress, his toned muscles and strong bones rolling beneath his skin. He blinks up at her from the pillow, his baby blue eyes sparkling when he smiles. Chrissy moves a few golden strands of hair from his face carefully, contemplatively, thinking how long it took to make herself beautiful for him last night when he was so radiant all on his own.
It isn’t fair.
He’s the angel, not her.
“Morning,” she whispers back softly. It is indeed morning, though she can’t bring herself to say it is good.
“Big day today,” he says against her mouth, pulling himself up to his feet, gathering his clothes forgotten on the side of the bed.
She hums a quiet yes, inclining her head up diligently the moment he leans down to press his cool lips against her ear. Her eyes wander out the window into the red and pink hues of the bloody morning sun creeping over the valley as he kisses her cheek, then the side of her brow. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs deeply. “You’re so pretty.”
My pretty girl. What do we say?
“Thank you,” she sighs, stretching out a smile, trying to repress her nightmares, trying to be the happy and excited girl he loves so much.
Trying to be his Chrissy.
“Cheering for me today?” He seems so assured, so confident, the whole world is in his palm for the taking. All the nerves and stress from last night are gone now, as if they were never there at all.
“Always,” she replies as if he is foolish for even asking such a thing. “But you won’t need it.”
He grows very serious for a second, making her smile falter. A little frightened.
