#my brother has a toddler that i’ve been helping raise since he was born

[qbebou]

ok not to be like he’s just like me fr…. but chayanne is just like me fr…..

i’m also the oldest child with one younger sibling who needed a lot more care when we were kids and therefore was deprived of certain needs in favor of my brother. i also had a parent that was missing a lot and depended almost solely on my dad. obviously tallulah needs more help than chay, with her asthma and lesser fighting skills, not to mention she had only been playing minecraft for like a month? or two before wilbur found her. and chay knows that! he knows that she needs more help than he does he knows he’ll do anything for her he knows he has to be the strongest to protect her. my brother and i are only a year apart but i was forced to grow up very very quickly bc i was on my own a lot as a kid while my brother was sick. phil doesn’t worry abt chay when he runs off bc he doesn’t need to, chay can take care of himself. hell, he took care of all the eggs when they first left. but at the same time, it’s comforting to know ur parent is looking out for u even when u don’t need it. phil’s not a smothering parent, he’s attentive, but not smothering. but let’s be real he can also be emotionally constipated LMAO but that leads to situations like the argument and frustration between chay and tallulah when dapper was kidnapped. in his defense, he’s never been a parent before and had 2 children thrust upon him to raise on his own. he didn’t have a lot of time to adjust to parenthood like ppl in real life do, he suddenly had 2 children who had their own thoughts and opinions and emotional needs, he didn’t get the time it takes to LEARN abt how to provide that specific care and while some ppl have that innate knowledge there is a lot of learning and navigating when it comes to emotional vulnerability and regulation esp when it comes to children who are figuring it out as well. i feel for chay when he thinks he needs to be the strongest. i feel for chay when he had to make the decision to gather the eggs and leave. i feel for chay when he had to take blame for bad things happening. and i feel for chay when he realized tallulah doesn’t need him as much anymore. my brother and i are both adults now and we had a …… tumultuous relationship as teenagers for reasons that were both our own and caused by problems outside our control. but i still remember exactly how devastating it was the moment i realized that he was fine on his own. that he didn’t need me anymore. and it caused a rift between us; on my end bc i was frustrated and felt tossed aside and on his end bc he NEEDED to be independent to keep growing. i see so much of myself in chay and i desperately wish he and tallulah had a better mediator for their argument, or at least someone who could truly understand why they were so upset. i don’t think phil clocked that tallulah was so upset and adamant abt looking for dapper bc it was just her dapper and ramon surviving on their own. just bc phil didn’t witness it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen and it doesn’t mean that they don’t have a much tighter relationship than they had before purgatory. and when chayanne said everyone was blaming him for the decisions he made phil was quick to tell him that no one was blaming him but also phil doesn’t know that! he doesn’t know if any blame was put on chayanne when it was just the eggs together. chayanne made the decision for the eggs to run and they trusted him bc he’s the oldest and he’s strong and he can be a leader but by running he also put the eggs thru a lot of pain and fear that they may not have gone thru if they stayed with their parents. and even if the eggs didn’t explicitly say that they blamed chayanne im sure he blamed himself for every little thing that went wrong. we’ve already seen him open up a tiny bit abt how he was questioning his decision to leave. but phil told him that chay made the best decision he could have given the information he had at the time which is true! but when ur the oldest and everyone is looking to u, all of the responsibility lies on ur shoulders. chayanne has been carrying SO much weight on his shoulders for so long it breaks my heart.

#lex.txt #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp #i have so much more i could say abt chayanne tallulah and their relationship but unfortunately ! i am not allowed to write more than this #please excuse my rambling run on sentences and lack of proper punctuation #i type the way i speak in my head and usually that means no pauses no breaks everything flows like word vomit i apologize if things #don’t make sense #i think if this was happening when i was younger i wouldn’t have all these feelings but like #my brother has a toddler that i’ve been helping raise since he was born #that is MY baby i spend the most time with him he’s the closest to me out of anyone #and i think that if i didn’t have any parenting experience i would also handle things a lot like how phil does #i think the several years of therapy have also helped with my parenting LOL #anyways i wrote this a while back and it’s been sitting in my drafts #chay is so sacrificial and i think a lot of it comes from phil putting pressure on him to be strong #he literally said he should’ve been the one to die instead of empanada!!!!! he thinks the eye attacks are his fault #i just wish he could be a kid and do the things he wants to do without worrying that he or his siblings will die #poor sweet boy :( he shouldn’t be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders but he doesn’t think he has the option not to

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {16}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Sera Marigold Draeven is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

I’m ninety-five percent positive I thought the same thing when Nyx was born, but it can’t be helped. I’ve got the world’s cutest niece and nephew.

It’s been a week since Sera was born and I’ve been wrapped around her finger since the moment Elain laid her in my arms. She’s awake, for once, and her eyes, hazel, just like her daddy’s, are wide open and gazing up at me.

“Was I ever that little?”

The question comes from my left, where Nyx is peering over the arm of the couch, still not quite sure what to think about his new cousin.

“You were even smaller than Sera, bub,” Rhys answers from the kitchen. Nyx drags his gaze from the baby to his dad. “You were born prematurely.”

His little dark eyebrows knit together. “What does prematchery mean?”

“It means,” Feyre jumps in, rolling her eyes at her husband, “that you were so excited to be with us that you came out of mommy’s tummy early.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding and dragging the word out. He looks back at Sera. “So she didn’t want to come out of Aunt Elain’s tummy?”

“No, she most certainly did not,” Elain replies from her seat in the recliner.

I chuckle as Nyx’s brows raise. 

“She’s stubborn just like her mom and aunts,” Cassian chimes in.

I shoot him a look as Elain rolls her eyes, but I can’t help but look at him fondly. He’s watching Sera with such love and adoration that my eyes line with tears. His eyes meet mine and his smile softens even more.

“Can we take her home with us?” Nyx asks, curiously, genuinely. 

“No,” Feyre laughs, “but we’re going to see her all the time. Don’t you worry.”

Rhysand tosses an arm around Cassian’s shoulders and leads him into the kitchen. I take that as a sure sign that my brother-in-law is getting hangry and wants Cassian to put the steaks on the grill as soon as possible. 

Azriel stays. It seems he can’t get enough of his baby girl.

I look back down at my niece just as she gives me the biggest of yawns. It’s ridiculously adorable.  

I stopped trying not to allow myself to get jealous. After meeting with Gwyn this week, we talked about how jealousy is a natural reaction and trying to reject that jealousy will only bring anxiety and depression. Sure, there is an obsessive amount of jealousy that’s important to stay away from, but the kind of longing and want and emptiness that I feel… Turns out, that’s normal.

And although there’s nothing I can do about that feeling, I must say that my niece is absolute perfection. The second I look down into her beautiful round face, all I feel is love and protection. 

I’ve been talking to Feyre a lot in the last week, since I told her about our past, and she’s been an amazing listener and support. She recommended that I tell Elain, which I did, and just like Feyre, there was no judgment or condemnation, only love. Their reactions had only made me wish I had said something sooner. 

Even Azriel pulled me aside and held me for a long while, crying alongside me, just like I know he had done for Cassian. Azriel may be the quietest of us all, but he loves and feels greater than us all, too. 

Half of me wants to go help Cassian with dinner, but the other half of me - the half of me that refuses to give up my niece - is the one that wins. 

Rhysand comes back into the room, only to whisper something in Nyx’s ear before the toddler runs toward the kitchen, giggling. I give my brother-in-law a curious look, but he only plops down next to Feyre on the couch and bites her earlobe. They’re so cute it’s sickening, but that’s nothing new.  

I hear the screen door open and close, knowing that means Cassian has taken the steaks out to the grill, and settle in to get more snuggles…

Until I smell something.

Sniffing twice, I look up and catch Elain’s eye. “I think she has something for you.”

Chuckling softly, Elain begins to extract herself from her seat, but Azriel presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get her. You relax.”

“She probably needs to feed.” She presses a hand to her chest and adds with a wince, “Badly.”

Feyre chuckles knowingly and once again, I’m hit with a surge of jealousy that I’m unable to stop. Hearing my sisters talk about all aspects of their pregnancies, both good and bad, only makes me yearn for it more. Even things like engorged breasts, late night feedings, and diaper changes don’t seem so bad when I look down at the precious angel in my arms.

One day, I promise myself. It’ll happen for us one day.

Azriel scoops Sera from my arms, promising to bring her back down to feed after she’s changed. Rhys, despite the fact that Cass only took the steaks outside minutes before, goes outside to check on dinner, mumbling something about how starving he is, and to make sure Nyx is behaving. We know Cass is watching him, but you can never be too careful with a toddler and a hot grill.

When it’s just us, Elain sighs, pressing a hand to her tender breasts. “It’s only been two hours and my body is screaming at me to feed her.”

“I’ll be honest, having my supply dry up when Nyx was a few months old was frustrating, but relieving,” Feyre said, tucking her legs beneath her as she drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “I wish I could have fed him for longer, but he did fine on formula, and my boobs were screaming for a break.”

That jealousy rears its ugly head again and I do my best to ignore it as they discuss the merits of breastfeeding vs formula, unable to add to the conversation. Instead, I think about how far Cassian and I have come, how happy we are, and how relieved that I can talk about these things with my sisters once again. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until Feyre says my name.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, blinking out of a memory from our vacation. She and Elain are looking at me like they know exactly what was on my mind.

“How are yours feeling?” Elain asks, color blooming on her cheeks. Feyre is trying not to laugh as she glances down to my chest.

I feel myself blush. I’d told my sisters about my new piercings when we returned and they both didn’t believe me until I’d proved it—through a shirt, of course. “Great now. Wonderful actually.”

Elain’s cheeks turn even brighter as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did that. I walked in on Azriel the other day while he was on the phone with Cass. He is, uh, very vocal about his love for your new jewelry.”

Unable to contain her laughter any further, Feyre cackles. “I, too, have walked in on a similar conversation.” Her eyes soften, even though her grin remains. “It sounds like you two are doing really well, Nes.”

The softest joy forms in my core. “We are. Really, really well. I feel like we’re in the honeymoon stage all over again, and I know that we’re going to keep having our fair share of trials, but…” I shrug. “I feel like our relationship is stronger than it’s been in years. Since we got married.”

My sisters share a look before they look back to me. 

“We’re happy for you,” Elain says, and maybe it’s the new-mom hormones, but she’s crying.

Which makes Azriel frown as he walks back down the stairs with a freshly-changed newborn. “What’s wrong? I was bringing her right back.”

She waves him off as she takes their daughter and he leans down to give her a sweet, chaste kiss before heading out on the patio with Cass, Rhys and Nyx.

Elain was just putting a milk-drunk Sera in her swing when Rhys, Az, and Nyx came in, the former carrying an aluminum foil covered platter. He grumbles, “The chef says we have to let these rest for at least twelve minutes before eating them.”

“You’ll live, you big, Illyrian baby,” Feyre says, rolling her eyes.

“Starving,” he mutters, heading into the kitchen.

Az chuckles and follows him, while Nyx hurries over to Feyre, motioning for her to lean down so he could whisper something to her. He shoots me a look as he murmurs in her ear and then shot off again, back into the kitchen.

Feyre was shaking her head as I ask, “What was that about?”

“Nothing, he’s just silly.” She smiles, but I couldn’t miss the mischief in her eyes.

I narrow my own, but realize someone was missing. Turning towards the kitchen, I holler, “Where’s Cass?”

A pause in the conversation and beat of silence follow. It was Azriel that answers. “Cleaning the grill.”

Bullshit. The man turns the heat up and lets it char the inside for an extra twenty minutes after he’s done, leaving nothing ash to scoop out. After a decade, you learn things about a person. I get up and head for the patio, wondering what he’s up to.

“Aunt Nesta, have I shown you my new Lightning McQueen?”

I turn and find Nyx right behind me, a bright red car in hand.

“Wow,” I say, trying my best to act like the tiny, red  car is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. “That’s awesome, buddy.”

“Wanna see him drive?”

Well, I can’t say no to that. “Of course.”

I expect us to do a quick trial run of the toy car, but we end up sitting on the hardwood, attempting to have Lightning McQueen outrun every other toy car that Nyx brought with him.

Which is a ton.

Thinking it surely must be twelve minutes by now, I call for my sisters, but neither one of them answer.  It’s Azriel that comes around the corner, cradling Sera in his arms.

“The table is set.” It’s all he says before he turns on his heels and disappears.

Before I can get to my feet, Nyx is running off, heading for the kitchen, leaving me in the dust.

Cassian has suddenly reappeared, along with Rhys and Az, and the table is indeed set, but now my sisters are nowhere to be seen.

“Elain wanted to show Feyre the vegetable garden,” Azriel offers as I look around.

Looking between them all, I ask, “Right before we eat?”

“I made a salad.” Cassian is busy cutting Nyx’s steak before plating it. “They were checking to see if anything was ripe enough to go in.”

“Oh.” My suspicions settle, but I still feel like something is off. When my sisters come back in though, everything seems normal. Elain deemed two tomatoes ready, but she’d rather save them for salsa one night this week, so Cassian continues as he planned and a few minutes later, everyone was devouring the delicious meal.

I can’t help but look around the table, that unsettled feeling remaining in the pit of my stomach. Cassian meets my eye and smiles from across the table, but he almost seems anxious.

Which makes me anxious. 

“Not hungry?”

I blink, realizing I’d just been pushing my vegetables around. The sound of Cassian’s voice hardly breaks me out of it. 

“I just…” I hesitate, not wanting to offend anyone, knowing this food is delicious. I clear my throat. “It’s hot. I have a sore in my mouth…don’t want to agitate it.”

Cassian lifts a brow as he takes a bite of his steak. He hums, pleased with the flavor, with the texture, and I’m amazed that that alone turns me on.

And makes me want to eat the beautiful meal he’s prepared.

And him.

However, we’re in the presence of our siblings and nephew, so I behave myself and start to eat.

Much to my culinary husband’s dismay, I don’t eat steak often and when I do, I sometimes like to add steak sauce. He considers this blasphemy, I consider it enhancing the flavor. Standing from my seat, I ask, “Az, do you have A1 in the fridge?”

“I’ll get it,” Cassian announces, standing and rounding the table, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. At the same time, he not so subtly pushes me back into my chair.

I stare after him, eyes narrowed. “Okay,” I say, quietly as I dab the sides of my mouth. “He’s acting weird.”

“I don’t think he’s acting weird,” Rhysand says, his mouth full. “And I would know. I’ve seen his weird.”

“Remember that one time,” Azriel begins, “when we all went out on a triple date in high school and he was so nervous that he sweat through his shirt and knocked over the water pitcher? That was weird.” 

“Or that time, at the football banquet, when he was so nervous that he ate half of everything on the table and spent the time he was meant to be on stage in the bathroom, getting sick,” Rhysand adds.

I blink, trying my best to follow their conversation. “All you two are doing is proving me right.”

They don’t get the chance to respond. Cassian comes back into the room with a bottle of steak sauce and lovingly sets it down next to me.

I swear his hands are shaking.

My eyes remain on his massive frame until it’s plopped in the seat across from me. He picks up his fork and stabs a piece of steak, and when he looks back up at me, he frowns. 

“Aren’t you going to use that?”

I hadn’t even realized I’d been gripping the steak sauce, its cap still on. Without another word, I unscrew the top and create a little puddle on my plate. I swear he’s holding his breath as I dip the meat in the sauce and take a bite. 

Yes. I’m a true abomination of a chef’s wife. 

We continue on eating but the air remains thick. I think I’m making it thick with my own mindless worrying, but I can’t help it. I can’t help but think that there’s something going on that I’m oblivious to, and that doesn’t sit well with me. 

Nonetheless, I try not to let my mind wander. I eat, even though I taste nothing and wish to leave the room….or have a drop of alcohol. 

Alcohol would be a blessing, something to ease the anxiety flooding every inch of my being. 

Time goes slowly but I finish what’s on my plate, and my family that surrounds me finishes theirs with lively conversation. 

I stare at my empty plate, wondering why I feel so insecure, so lost. Surely I’m not so fragile that a simple case of anxiety paralyzes me. 

Fuck.

Who am I kidding?

Of course, I am. 

I put my silverware on top of my plate and fold my napkin, placing it on top of it all like a bow. My eyes meet Elain’s, who is frowning, which makes my rise to my feet. 

“Can I take anyone’s plate?” I ask, forcing a smile.

Apparently Azriel was in the middle of talking, because now everyone is looking at me with a frown. I take my plate and everyone who surrounds me, and head towards the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

I whirl around and look at my husband, who’s leaning against the threshold. I can’t read the look on his face, which is…odd. I’ve always been good at gauging what he’s feeling, even more so in the past few months. He wears his feelings for all to see. There’s a cross between nerves and something else I can’t name in his eyes, something that sets me even more on edge than before.

I hesitate, and the silence around me has me feeling like the walls are closing in. I notice Nyx shift in his seat uncomfortably and hurry out of the room before I do something even more embarrassing, like have a full on mental breakdown in front of my family.

Even though I think the breakdown has already begun.

I’m in the kitchen when his heavy footsteps sound behind me. I place my plate in the sink with shaky hands, and then his arms are around me, pulling my back against him. He kisses my cheek, then my neck, gently and soothingly. 

“I did something to upset you,” he says quietly, as I close my eyes and try my best to take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. 

“I can’t read you,” I say, “and it’s making me anxious.”

I don’t deny it, don’t tell him that there’s nothing wrong and everything is fine, even though I want to, even though it’s something I once would have done without a second thought. Instead, I let out the truth, let out my emotions. 

“You’re acting strange, and I feel like I did something to make you act strange,” I continue, when he says nothing. 

When he continues to say nothing, I feel like I’m going to puke. When I spin around, nothing comes out, my anxiety that was turning into anger slowly starts to dissipate as I see the crease between his brows. 

“I wasn’t trying to be weird,” he says, taking my hands. “I was just trying to…”

His words fade away, and he seems to be at a loss, which is also weird for Cassian. I shake my head, exasperated, “Cass, what the hell’s going on?” 

He sighs, all the breath leaving him. “Look, I wanted to make tonight special, and the last thing I wanted was to get you all worked up, but now I feel like I failed in that area, and I feel bad because you’re fucking stressed, which is the last thing I wanted.”

The words rush out of him and I finally realize that my husband is anxious, too. About what? I don’t know, but I do know that something is on his mind. 

Before I can say anything more, he’s pulling me towards the backdoor. “I wasn’t able to finish everything I had planned,” he says. “It’s been kinda hard sneaking out all afternoon without you knowing, but Rhys and Az have been a huge help. Nyx, too, although there were times where he did more harm than good considering, you know, he’s a toddler.” My confusion grows as he chuckles, but when he opens the backdoor and we step onto the porch, I’m suddenly speechless.

Ten years ago, at a family dinner very similar to this, Cassian asked me to marry him. The three of them lived in a shared house off campus at VU and though that house has been long gone for years, it’s like I’ve stepped back in time.

It was never the most romantic place to be, but so many of our early memories were made in that house, in that backyard. In the span of an afternoon, Elain and Azriel’s backyard has been transformed. There are string lights and candles and music playing, with the purple, silver, and black coloring of Velaris University scattered everywhere. Even a few touches from the fraternity Cassian spent a few years in, including, to my chagrin, a keg off the side of the porch. A path of candles line the walkway, leading to where a small wrought iron table and chairs sit in the corner by the fence. Atop that table is a lone red rose.

“Cassian,” I breathe, unable to find the words as I gaze around us.

Taking my hand, he leads me down the porch stairs and towards the table, just like he did all those years ago.

“I kept trying to find ways to top my marriage proposal,” he begins, stopping in front of the table, “and there are probably a million ways that are more romantic than this, but I figured… It worked out so well the first time, so we may as well relive the moment.” A sound comes out of me that falls somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but both are joyful. Cassian grins. “Nesta, I love you. I love you now, and I loved you then. Every moment that I’ve spent by your side has been a blessing and the past year has proven to me that your love isn’t something I’m willing to take for granted. I want you to know unequivocally how deeply, hopelessly in love with you I am. I can think of no better way to do that then to stand before our families and the Cauldron and declare my love for you again.”

He pulls something from his pocket and drops to one knee. A surprised laugh breaks free as I cover my mouth with my right hand. My right hand because my left is in his.

“Marry me again, Nes.”

A simple silver band, inlaid with diamonds is held between his fingers. The twin to my wedding band, save for the tiny, red stones, alternating after every few diamonds. They flash in the lights, looking like fire and catching the eye.

I nod, because I can’t say a word. I nod so hard that I nearly give myself a headache, but it’s all well worth it. He slides the ring onto my finger, and I don’t realize how hard I’m crying until he’s on his feet and his lips are on mine. 

I hear cheering from the porch. I haven’t even realized everyone has been watching, but their joy consumes me, making me cry harder. 

We’ve come so far.

In a matter of months, we’ve come so far. I can’t believe that we were ever in such a bad spot, that we let our marriage become so awful, but looking at us now…it’s all ancient history. Never again.

#nessian bow #better or worse #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #cassian #nesta archeron #cassian x nesta #snacmc collabs #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #sjm fanfic

[phoenixyfriend]

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad���s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

#Ben Kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker #Qui Gon Jinn #Time Travel #De Aging #Phoenix Posts #Uncle Ben and Little Luke

[scorsoneamelia]

hey hope you’re having a good day!

prompt: amelias sisters come to visit after scouts born and and find out about scout.

thank you so much i hope you’re having a good day too!!! <333

ALSO shoutout to @afsalta for helping me with this one!!

            There was resentment, or maybe it was just pure hatred. Ever since she was old enough to form memories, there was always absolute disgust on her sister’s faces when it came to Amelia, or it could have also been disappointment, maybe even embarrassment. Embarrassed that their little sister wasn’t like them, instead they thought she was a mess; a mess that they convinced themselves she was going to be for as long as they lived. No matter how many years were under her belt for sobriety, she will always be that young girl that had shadows casting over face, pale skin and heavy eyes, sitting on the edge of a sidewalk, across from a bar with her head spinning and a handful of orange pills laying flat in her palm. A girl that stole the prescription pad of her older brother, crashing his white Mustang because she was too fucked up to drive. The same girl that used her own prescription pad to write doses for her and her boyfriend, him overdosing in the process. For as long as she could remember, they will always see her as a drunk or as a junkie who didn’t have her life together and never will.

            A shadow, Derek always had a shadow and most would argue that it was her; following in her brothers foot steps but never being able to be successful. There was always competition, more so with her older brother and there was always a weight on her chest, a pressure into being as great as him; as great as her sisters. Success and failure didn’t come together as they believed he was successful and she wasn’t; rather she was a failure. The weight that sat on her shoulders was always pulling her down, making her believe that she’ll never be Amelia Shepherd, never her own person, instead she’ll forever be that girl screaming at her friends during an intervention about how much she wants drugs; needs drugs. Amelia believes that she’s just as great as he is and she can truly say that she’s proud of herself, proud of who she became and how far she’s come. The competition of her not being as successful, as normal as her family, has and always will be weighing her down because in their eyes she will always be the messy little sister who cannot be trusted.

            She didn’t talk to her family, didn’t call, didn’t visit, Derek was the only exception and even then, they didn’t communicate as much as she would have hoped. Usually she calls her mom, keeping in touch as much as she could but the resentment and pain she has still lingered, since her own mom left her alone on her wedding day. Her big day, one of the most important days of her life and her mom refused to go despite her own daughter begging for her to attend. It was unbearable pain, a pain that wasn’t worth for her to continue to put herself through so instead she found her true family, her friends back in Los Angeles and her sisters, her children and her nieces and nephew. Amelia was content, her sisters words that used to haunt her no longer lingered in the back of her head because she knew she was better than the Amelia that her family decided to create.

             At least that’s what she thought; being content and happy. She realized she was mistaken when a chill was being sent down her spine, a shiver that made goosebumps form on her arms, enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

             “Kathleen?” Amelia breathed, her sister was stood outside the front door, the other sister standing not too far behind. “Nancy?”

             “Amelia? Where have you been?” Nancy turned so she was facing Amelia and both girls had disgusted looks on their face, a look that was so familiar to her.

              “I live in Seattle, I have since Derek gave me this job,” she started, a confused look on her face and her sisters were giving it back, probably because there was a toddler in her arms and he was propped up on her hip. “What are you doing here?”

               “We talked to Meredith,” Kathleen stated. “We’re here to visit her and the kids.” They might as well just stabbed her right in the chest and twisted, because she felt something in her chest, pain; they weren’t there to see her. Amelia shouldn’t be surprised though, she didn’t visit either.

                So instead of making it a big deal, not allowing to show that it bothered her, she stepped aside to allow her two sisters into the house. After all, it was Meredith’s house, not hers. The part that Amelia dreaded was that Meredith wasn’t here yet, the kids had just been getting off of school, so in the entire house it was her, Link and their baby; a baby they had no idea she had. “I didn’t know Meredith had another one.” And there was a light in Nancy’s eyes, some kind of love and affection that was beaming through her facial features, a finger being lifted to brush softly across the toddler’s face.

                “She didn’t,” Link had come around the corner, thankfully he noticed that they showed up; her cruel sisters that he had met once, not ever wanting to be caught in another situation with them. But here he was, standing behind Amelia, a hand brushing softly across her lower back. “This is Scout. Ours.”

                 The love and affection that had previously been coming through her eyes was replaced with disappointment, and there was a shudder that came from Kathleen. “You had a secret baby?”

                 She brushes off their reactions, trying not to let it phase her because that part of her life was over; the part where she let her sisters control how she feels about herself. “This is Scout, he’s a year now,”

                “Does Mom know?” Nancy asked, her eyes wide, similar to Link’s although he was shocked for opposite reasons. “How could you keep this from us? We’re family.”

                 Amelia’s eyes were rolling and she was irritated. “You guys lost the privilege of knowing what goes on in my life when mom chose not to come to my wedding and the last time I tried to visit you, I was humiliated.”

                Nancy’s arms were being crossed in front of her chest, her eyebrow raised and she was glancing at Link, a nod in his direction. “You’ve managed not to scare him off. Aren’t we all surprised? After all, he might just be the best one yet.”

                This time Link rolled his eyes, his body was tense from behind her and Amelia knew he was forcing himself from speaking up. “Forget it,” Amelia hummed, passing Scout off to Link and she was making her way to the kitchen. This conversation was over because she decided it was.

               “So, Scout?” Nancy asked, now suddenly both of them had an interest in meeting her son; their nephew. Amelia doesn’t care though, she didn’t love them the same way she loved Maggie, or Meredith, she never loved them the same way she loved Derek. To her, they were just people she grew up with, people she knew, biology is utter crap and they weren’t her sisters, not to her at least.

              Once Meredith arrives, she’ll let her take the matter into her own hands considering they weren’t there for her and they most definitely weren’t there for Scout. They were there for Meredith. “I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised with you, Amy.” 

               “It’s Amelia.” She corrected Nancy, which resulted in the older sister waving her hand off in dismissal, her attention only drawn to the baby and Link, who was being friendly as always. She wishes she was more like him, was able to put up with this kind of shit. There was a sound of a car engine coming closer before it came to a stop, meaning Meredith and the kids were home. This meant she could wander, go somewhere else in the house to hide because frankly, seeing her sisters was the last thing on her list to do for the day. 

                So that’s what she did, made her way up the set of stairs while Meredith greeted them, offering them coffee, tea, water, literally anything. They all agreed on coffee, but Kathleen was talking loud enough for Amelia to hear. “Is there no alcohol in this house?”

#stories #SORRY ITS SO SHORT I WAS STUCK #amelia and link #amelia x link #amelia shepherd #ameliafics #amelinkfics #link and amelia #amelia #greys anatomy #greysanatomyfics #atticus link #amelink

[seasonsofeverlark]

Ambush of Love

Author: @eiramrelyat​​

Prompt: I’d like to have an Everlark prompt of Peeta making a pile of leaves and leaving one for his kids to ambush him and have a leaf fight. We used to do this with my dad. [submitted by @mega-aulover​]

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: I had fun writing this, and thought it was the right amount of fluff for fall.Again, thank you @jroseley​ for being an amazing proofreader!

____________

“Katniss! I’m here,” she heard Peeta call from the entryway.

“In the kitchen!”

Ivy banged on the top of her highchair, another tantrum brewing from spilling her Cheerios onto the floor. Katniss sighed and bent down to pick them up, feeling rather exhausted from three long nights with a sick toddler. Thankfully, Peeta offered to help her out on his day off, even though she opposed the idea at first.

She felt terrible that he rearranged all of his plans for the day, but she swore she’d make it up to him somehow. She could always give him Madge’s number from work; he seemed to like her when Katniss invited him to her company’s Christmas party last year…

Moments later, he popped his blonde curly head into the kitchen, the deliciously savory aroma of cheese buns from the bakery following him. He stopped to place a kiss on Ivy’s forehead. “Hey, I brought lunch.” Katniss couldn’t stop the smile that pulled on her mouth. She also didn’t miss how Ivy’s screams quieted to mere babbling. As though the sight of Peeta turned her mood around too.

What did she ever do to deserve a best friend like Peeta?

“Thank you,” she breathed, dumping the cereal from the floor into the trash.

He placed the white box on the counter. “How’s she feeling?”

“Better, I think. She’s had quite the grumpy temper, though.”

He laughed. “Sounds like she takes after her mother.” She attempted a scowl until the sound of Ivy laughing with Peeta made it difficult. Peeta moved over toward the sink and began cleaning the dishes left from the night before.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I didn’t have time to clean after work.”

He shrugged, giving her one of his crooked smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Plus, I get to hang out with my two favorite girls today.” A part of her knew he only said it to be nice. Still, her heart fluttered in her chest, and she hid her blush by turning to clean off Ivy’s highchair. “Hey, I can clean her up if you want to go take a shower.”

Katniss protested, but Peeta stuck a cheese bun in her hand and shooed her out of the kitchen. She stopped to give a now babbling Ivy a kiss on the top of her head, feeling a bit relieved to have a moment’s peace to herself. Even if it’s merely changing from her dirty pajamas to some clean clothes.

She loved being Ivy’s mother and wouldn’t change it for the world. Yet, between the regular errands that came with being an adult and single parenting, she hardly had a few good minutes to herself. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she dressed up and went somewhere decent, aside from the occasional company function.

She had dated no one since before Ivy was born. Just the single one-night-stand that shook her world in more ways than one. Unfortunately, the guy had zero interest in the pregnancy, and she never talked to him again after relaying the news.

Turning on the water, she stepped inside the shower. Her tired muscles eased under the warm stream of water, tension from so many missed hours of sleep lifting from her shoulders. She stood there for who knows how long before grabbing the soap bar off of the shelf.

After her shower, she’s surprised by how quiet her house was. Not even the sound of Ivy screaming or the clattering of toys echoed throughout the halls. She stepped into the living room, finding Peeta watching a movie on the couch with the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

For a moment, she’s transported to a time when they were teenagers watching terrible movies in his parent’s living room. Their laughs annoying his killjoy of a mother. How she once imagined that she would create a family with her best friend someday… With that thought, she coughed, making her presence in the room known.

Peeta glanced over, offering her a smile as she came to sit on the couch beside him. “I will never understand how she falls asleep so fast for you and not for me,” she said.

He shrugged. “I’m just good with kids, I guess.”

She scooted closer toward the inviting warmth rolling off of him, and Peeta moved his arm to the back of the couch. “Maybe you should have been a nanny instead of a baker.”

His mouth quirked. “Or maybe I could do both.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes slowly drooped at the feel of him rubbing soothing circles into her scalp. She didn’t mean to, but she leaned tiredly into his side and fell asleep.

When she woke up, she had been sleeping so soundly that, for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Katniss moved to stretch her legs but stopped when she felt a weight on top of them.

She pried one reluctant eye open far enough to see Ivy still fast asleep on the monitor. Then there’s the dawning realization that she was currently pressed up against Peeta. Their legs were intertwined, and he had one arm wrapped securely around her waist. In fact, it was becoming embarrassingly obvious how close they were when she felt something hard against her thigh.

With sudden urgency, she untangled herself from Peeta, making him wake up and look around in alarm. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I… uh,” she stammered, face flaming, then she noticed movement on the baby monitor. “Ivy’s awake. I should probably check on her.” And she scurried out of the room.

~~~~~

Katniss gave Peeta Madge’s number before he left that day and nervously urged him out the front door while she made a lame excuse about needing to wake up early. She didn’t even stop to remember that the next day was Saturday. He gave her a funny look, kissed the top of her and Ivy’s head, and told her he’d see them for their movie date next weekend.

The following week, she expected Madge to come up to her and boast about her memorable date. But she didn’t. Katniss even asked Madge about her weekend, and none of the things she told her involved going to the movies or going out to dinner. Maybe Madge felt awkward talking about Peeta with her?

“So, no hot dates, or anything?” she urged, not paying attention as she over-poured creamer onto the breakroom counter. “Shoot!”

Madge raised a brow, then reached for some paper towels to help wipe up the mess. “No… Katniss, are you feeling okay?”

No, she wasn’t. All she could think about lately was that moment on the couch between her and Peeta. A moment he knew nothing of, but she couldn’t stop freaking out about it. “Well, I… I might have given Peeta your number. And I thought maybe you two went out this weekend.” She watched as Madge’s eyes widened.

“Why? Aren’t you two dating?”

“Oh! No… We’re really good friends… But we… we don’t like each other like that.” Katniss was blabbering, her brain stuck on the notion of her and Peeta dating.

“Mmm.” The look Madge gave her seemed unconvinced. “That’s why you invited him to the Christmas party last year?”

How did Katniss become the one being interrogated? She pushed her glasses up her nose in frustration. “They required you to have a date!”

Madge pursed her mouth in amusement. “I heard Cato had the hots for you.”

“Yeah, well, that guy’s a tool. I would never date him, even if I became desperate.”

“Fair, but it doesn’t explain why Peeta’s always at your house.”

She flushed, feeling stuck on an explanation. “He… well, he…”

Madge shook her head, smirking knowingly. “Sounds like Peeta likes you more than you think.”

With that, she left Katniss to stew on her words.

After her conversation with Madge, her avoidance of Peeta continued for a week, rescheduling their movie date for another weekend. She doesn’t dodge his phone calls, though. Knowing Peeta, he’d grow suspicious and show up on her doorstep before she had a chance to think about everything. But it helped when Prim invited her and Ivy over for a play date that weekend. It made her excuse for being busy more believable.

They sat in Prim’s sunroom. Ivy and Stormy slept on the playmat on the floor, while she and Prim quietly read their books on the sun covered sofa. It reminded Katniss of when they would do homework together as kids- minus the two toddlers.

But Katniss continued to read the same line over, her mind elsewhere. Prim picked up on this, glancing up from the book in her lap.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” she asked softly.

Katniss bit the inside of her cheek, thinking about how to word her question. “What do you think of Peeta?”

Prim closed her book and sat up. “Are you asking me what I think of the guy that we grew up with? The one that babysat me for a year?” she asked, but she doesn’t give Katniss enough time to answer. “That’s a silly question. He might as well be the brother I never had. Why? Are you two finally dating?”

Leave it to Prim to cut right to the point. “Well, no, but I’ve been thinking… Should we be?”

“What do you want to do?”

She sighed, not sure of the answer. “I care for Peeta, I do. But I don’t want him to date me because he feels bad for me. I’ve perfectly managed to be a single parent for a year. I just… I want him to date me because he cares for me. Not as some charity case that he decided to take on. I don’t need someone to take care of us.”

“Katniss, I know I can’t relate to what you’re feeling but believe me when I say Peeta likes you. More than you know. Why would he spend all of his extra time with you if he thought otherwise?” Her sister paused, her mouth tilting up at the corners. “I wouldn’t doubt that an eligible bachelor like Peeta already has a fair share of requests. Don’t women fawn over men that know their way around the kitchen?”

Katniss rolled her eyes.

They heard Rory coming through the side door, making their conversation no longer private. “Prim, I’m home!”

She offered Prim a faint smile, reaching for her hand across the cushion. “Thank you, Prim. How did you become a better listener? I thought the older sibling had that gift.”

Prim giggled. “Or maybe you just really needed someone to listen.”

~~~~~

Peeta came over for their movie date two weeks later. She almost worked herself into a panic over what she’s going to tell him that at the sound of his key unlocking the front door, she’s startled and jumped up from the couch.

When he walked into the living room, he’s too busy talking about how busy the store was to notice her still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room “… I stopped at the store for some princess movies, but I can’t promise that I’ll stay awake to these.”

She exhaled, nervously adjusting her glasses on her face. “Thank you.”

Then he finally saw they were the only two there.“Where’s Ivy?”

“She’s at my mom’s tonight.”

He gave her a curious grin, brows furrowed.“Okay… Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

It was now or never.

“I, uh, do you want to go on a date? With- with me.”

“Now?” he asked incredulously. Katniss bobbed her head, heart racing. “You realize that I’m in sweats and an old university sweatshirt?”

Licking her lips, she stepped toward him.“A stay in date?” Her voice was hopeful, still expecting him to say no.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I… You deserve more than old movies and leftover takeout!”

She shrugged, taking another step until she stood in front of him.“Our first date doesn’t need to be anything elaborate.”

Peeta looked down at her, silently debating something. She bit her lip, the words “just kidding” ready to spring off her tongue to save her from utter humiliation. “How about I take you somewhere nice tomorrow?” he finally said, and she raised her brows.

“So that’s a yes?”

He nodded, his mouth breaking into a wide grin. Then he reached up to push a stray piece of hair out of her face. “And tonight… I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”

“You don’t have to,” she whispered before grabbing the front of his sweater and kissing him the way she wanted to years ago.

~~~~~

Katniss smiled from her spot on the front porch, as their kids attempted to help Peeta rake up the leaves. Leo, their youngest, having fun with two leaves he picked up off the ground, his little squeals resounding throughout their yard.

“Daddy! Look!”

Ivy had made a small pile of leaves, and Katniss giggled when she stole some from Peeta’s to make hers bigger. It still made Katniss’s heart flutter when Ivy called Peeta dad. At first, it made her emotional, especially since it was the first word to slip out of her mouth. Peeta thought this had upset her, reassuring her that “dada” was easier for babies to learn. When she asked how he knew this, he shrugged and said that he read the maternity book she left on the coffee table while she napped.

Peeta crouched beside Ivy, placing a kiss on one of her rosy cheeks. “Wow, sweetheart, you’re doing such a good job! Why don’t we make an even bigger pile to play in?” Ivy’s face lit up, and she nodded eagerly, her dark little pigtails bobbing under her cap.

Katniss stood up to help, only receiving minor complaints from Peeta about the baby. She poked his side. “I’m pregnant, not fragile. Plus, I can’t allow you three to have all the fun.”

He chuckled, kissing her hairline. “My lovely wife, you are the strongest woman I know.” That was another thing she didn’t tire of hearing. Being called his wife.

“And don’t you forget it,” she leaned up, brushing her lips against his jaw, “my husband.”

Behind them, she heard giggling, and she peeked behind her shoulder to find the ball from Ivy’s cap sticking out of Peeta’s pile of leaves. Her mouth quirked, and Peeta joined in on their daughter’s little game.

“Leo, where did your sister go?”

The little toddler released an excited squeal and started crawling toward Ivy. Katniss lifted him up just in time before an explosion of red and orange littered their yard again, their giggling four-year-old revealing her hiding spot.

“Daddy, I’m here!”

Peeta scooped up Ivy, all four of them laughing. Katniss couldn’t be happier with leaves sticking out of their hair and clothes. And as she looked over at Peeta, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #submission #by eiramrelyat

[mirismuffins-ovo]

Plant Palace pt 9.1 🌿

⚠️[cussing and suggestive wording](theres two parts to this part due to it being a short moment)

[john has been staying with Eddie for around 2 weeks now]

John had stayed there for a few days,he was eating and just sleeping for the most part. He'd taken notice of an orange flower on Eddie's night stand and had realized that the room and house were set up for if John had come back. John had just finished taking a shower,and was drying off,his body looked more fit than before. He wasn’t as thin looking and his body was a slightly toned framed now. He finished getting dressed buttoning his pants as he walked out of the bathroom,seeing Eddie looking through the Polaroid pictures of the babies that had fallen out of his jacket.

“Oh..hey Eds” John shifted his weight slightly,just before he sat down on the opposite side of the bed. He didn’t know what to say about the girls to Eddie. “They’ve gotten so big hm?” He missed them but he didn’t want to leave just yet,he wanted Eddie to come with him at least.

“They sure have. They are still so beautiful just as the day they were born.” Eddie smiled, setting the photos aside.

Looking over at the cleaner, better recovered man, he looked him up and down. As much as Eddie would love to tear him apart, the concern about the girls worried him more. He wasn’t sure how long John had been away from them and like any parent, never wanted to be far away from their kids.

“How are the girls?”

“They’re alright...everyone around camp helps me take care of them,and there are other kids they play with. My mom and Henry have been taking care of them” He sighed and looked away “I miss them..but I try to talk to them often” John glanced at Eddie as he fixed some buttons on his shirt,Bitty was lying comfortably in a cat bed with her little brother Leaf.

“Mom had to teach me how to style their hair,and those girls are sure wild”

He laughed softly longing for his kids but his want for more was strong,it was selfish of him but he couldn’t keep himself away from Eddie.

He wondered if he would be able to help teach the girls how to be human so they could be integrated into human society.

"John… I think you should go back. Go see the girls."

He could see the shock fall on John's face.

“Eddie..I will soon,but..I want be with you”

He felt horrible for being selfish but he had sacrificed everything to keep his kids safe. John wanted his happiness,and he couldn’t fight the loneliness he felt without his lover. He’d waited for years just to see him.

“I don’t want to leave yet.”

"John. I'm in the middle of writing an album. When I finish I promise I'll come find you and the girls. But right now you need to be with them. They're probably worried about you."

He hoped John could go back. He was being serious.

“Eddie...I want more than this,we had dreams together. I still want that and I get you're writing your albums and that stuff is important. I know I came back out of nowhere but..I want more than what I have now” John knew Eddie was serious about this stuff,but so was John.

“I get that right now is temporary..and I will go back to them but..not right now”

Eddie was not happy with the answer. "You don't get to choose what you want anymore. You're a parent, a father, and you should know that your kids come first."

He groaned as he stood up, ruffling his hair. "You know I love you, John, but we are still living our own lives. We have been the past 2 years. We can't just get back together with a snap of our fingers. Things are still rough right now for Abbies and I'd rather you go protect them than worry about me!"

He pointed to the door, silently telling John he needs to go.

“I get it…but you need to understand being a single parent for two years and ignoring my own needs has taken its toll” He stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose frustrated “I’m not worried about the kids..my kids are safe with my mother.” He sighed and took a few steps away from the bed towards the door,but then paused. “how do you know I’ll come back next time..” John glanced back with an eyebrow raised.

“I love you,but like you said we’ve lived our separate lives,and if we don’t rekindle our relationship now i don't think we ever will” John knew he wouldn’t ever wanna leave Eddie but this was something he had to recognize. “Am I better off moving on…am I just still just fantasizing about what we used to be.”

Eddie grit his teeth, clicking his tongue. “Not a day goes by when I think about how you’ll come back to me. But never like this. I always thought we’d never would,or we’d run into each other while getting coffee. Or hell, I go do a concert and you’d be in the crowd!”

He could feel emotion build.

“But I’m not ready for us yet. I spent so long being depressed and hung up on you. I’ve tortured myself by releasing that album. I’ve had to ignore it for 2 years but whenever I had to play that one song I felt empty every time. That song was meant for you. That whole album was meant for you! It showed everything I felt about you but I never got an answer. That was my call to you, and I got nothing. Year after year after year and you just expect me to come back to you? Or you walk into my life begging for me to join you?

“John, we need to work on this. We still need to work on ourselves, what we really really want and what the consequences of that will be. We might be ready for the world, but the world might not be ready for us.”

John snapped his voice ringing out in frustration.“Do you think I give a fuck about what the world wants anymore Eddie!? After what I’ve done and what I’ve been through?!” He had whipped around to face the singer,aggressively motioning with his hands.“I’m done with worrying about the world Eddie,I get if you do now cause your famous” He crossed his arms and sighed, shaking his head “I’ve listened to the album almost everyday since it came out,our daughters know that their father sings that song. I listen to it to torture myself,to remind myself that I had to leave the fucking love of my life with OUR kids to live in the middle of nowhere...without you.” His tone was somber but he rubbed his face and regained his voice.

Eddie looked like he was about to speak but John

rose a hand to stop him.

“How did you expect me to answer you,hm!? What was I supposed to do while taking care of three little toddlers and trying to keep camp from getting captured by the government?” He squinted irritated “you know how they knew I was abnormal when I went to the hospital,even though I tried my damndest to control myself? I was listed as a fugitive from when I was a teenager,but I’m not anymore. I am not dangerous ” John sighed

“I’ll leave alright,I just wanted you to come with me...we could’ve had our little family..” he shrugged and his eyes flicked up to meet Eddies without waivering.

Eddie was enraged.

“Look if you’re just here to take me back and fuck, then do it.” Eddie glared.

His heart was racing, he had been eyeing the man since he started to make home. He was sure even the sight of his boyfriend still getting dressed was soon to make him hard. Wait..boyfriend? Sure why not.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to hold back the past few days.” Eddie had been eyeing John for the past two weeks,dying to rekindle their fire.“ But I was putting the girls first, no one wants to grow up without their parent.”

He walked up to John towering above him, running his fingers through the freshly washed hair, sliding them down John's face before taking hold of his chin, staring deeply into the shorter man’s eyes as he tilted his head up to face him.

“take me back to see our daughters,but let me have you”

Johns eyes widened and he looked up to see Eddies lustful eyes. The large man leaning interlocking his mouth with Johns,unexpectedly shoving his tongue into his mouth. John huffed and only paused to catch his breath,Eddie had pinned John against the wall,the more experienced man taking him by surprise.John's body knew what it was doing though,and just a look from Eddie had John longing for his touch. Eddie had picked John up by his thighs allowing John to wrap his legs around Eddie's waist before taking him to bed. Passionately ripping the clothes off of eachother. Eddie snickering at the ginger virgin who looked taken by surprise but seemed to be enjoying himself.

You can guess what happened next.

#mpreg story #tw: mpreg

[puckinghell]

11:11 | Carter Hart

Summary: Hockey players are a little superstitious, so wishing on shooting stars, rainbows and dropped penny’s isn’t a rare occurrence. Normally, they’re wishing for things like wins and awards and cups, but Carter has a little something else on his wishlist.  Words: 2,5k Note: based on the song 11:11 by Jae Jin which is the cutest songs I’ve ever heard. Note 2.0: This has been sitting in my concepts for over a year cause I just don’t love it but I like it too much to throw it away, so I finally decided to just post it and be done with it. Hope you guys like it anyway!

---

It’s a well known fact that hockey players are superstitious. 

It’s a better known fact that hockey goalies are stupidly superstitious. 

So far, Carter has been trying to break the stigma, and he’s pretty damn good at it, thank you very much. He doesn’t care if he puts on his left or right skate first, he doesn’t have to turn the shower on and off twice, there’s no pregame meal better than others. Winning games depends on how well he’s playing, not on setting his alarm at 4:32 when he takes his pregame nap.

Carter isn’t superstitious, but he is a little stitious - and he’s watched The Office way too many times, clearly. There’s just one thing he can be superstitious about. Only one thing. 

You.

---

You’ve been sitting on your porch, sketchbook in hand, drawing your neighbor’s dog. He’s big and black and at 11 years old, you’re not really sure if you’re supposed to be scared of him. He looks a bit scary, but he’s never done anything bad, and your parents don’t seem to mind him.

It’s hot outside. Too hot, really, to be outside your air conditioned living room, but your brothers are yelling inside and you just wanted some peace and quiet.

Some peace and quiet, and to stare at the boy next door. 

He’s a little older than you, a lot taller too, and he’s always intimidated you a bit. Sometimes he hangs out with your brothers, who are older too, but today he’s with some boys from around the neighborhood. 

They’re playing street hockey, like they usually are. You like watching them play; it’s such a fun game to watch, and you really wish you could try it, see if it’s fun to play too.

But your brothers always tell you to go away, and you’ve not had the guts to ask Carter. That’s the boy next door’s name; you heard it one time when his mom called him in for dinner. 

You’re focused on where the dog’s ears meet his head - on your paper it doesn’t quite look right - when something goes flying past your head.

“Duck!” you hear someone yell, but you’d already ducked in reflex. A plastic ball comes zooming past your ear, hits the wall behind you and bounces back; it rolls past your feet and ends up in front of somebody else’s.

“Are you okay?” the same voice asks, a little worried, and when you look up it’s Carter staring at you with wide eyes. “Did he hit you?” 

It takes a while for his words to synch into your brain, but then you shake your head. “No, he didn’t.”

Carter smiles, at that. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve told Alex his aim is so bad he shouldn’t be allowed to play in public, but he didn’t believe me.” 

The other guy, Alex you presume, comes running over, his hockey stick still in his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he says, and you’re pretty sure you’re not allowed to say that word but you don’t mention it. 

“It’s okay,” you say instead. “You didn’t hit me.” 

“Maybe keep an eye on the clock,” says Carter to his friend. “If it’s 11:11, you can wish to actually hit the target, some time.” 

“If you catch 11:11 you can wish to actually make a save,” Alex shoots back.

“If I caught 11:11 I would wish for you to shut up,” Carter snaps back and that’s when you giggle.

Instantly, both the boys turn to you. Carter is grinning at you, a wide and happy grin that makes it impossible for you not to grin back. “What would you wish for, if you caught 11:11?” he asks.

You know the answer; it’s right there on the tip of your tongue and it tumbles out with thinking, words filled with earnest honesty like only those of a kid can be.

“I would wish that I could play hockey.” 

The boy in front of you smiles, yanks the hockey stick out of his friend’s hands and extends it in your direction.

“Come play,” he says. “It’s not like you could be any worse than Alex, anyway.” 

And under loud protest of Alex, a new friendship is born. 

---

Your 16th birthday party is crazy exactly the way 16th birthday parties are supposed to be, with beers snuck into the kitchen as your parents go away for the night, telling you again and again that you can always call them if you need them, even if you think they’ll be mad.

There’s loud music everywhere, and people; you don’t even know half of them, but your brothers promised you they’d make it a party to remember and they’ve kept their promise.

The thing is, well, you’re not the biggest fan of parties, actually. You thought it would be cool, would be like in the movies and you’d feel all grown up and cool, but instead you feel a bit lost, with the noise of the people too loud and their drunken dancing having you worried about your parents furniture.

You also found out you really don’t like beer. 

You get a Pepsi from the fridge, where some friend of your brother’s is mixing some of your dad’s rum into a bottle of Sprite - it doesn’t seem like a good match, but then again, you’ve never tasted rum - while your brother is eating cheese straight from the packet. 

It’s all a bit too much, too sudden, and you find yourself yearning for some peace and quiet, some familiarity.

You make your way to the back yard; it’s quiet, there, the October air a little too cold for your guests, and you sit down on the porch, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The music booms through the walls and you can still hear people screaming, but it sounds more muffled, and it allows you to breathe.

Almost immediately after you sit down, you hear the creak of the backdoor and footsteps against the wood of the porch, and then a familiar body sits next to you, smelling like foresty cologne and floral laundry detergent. 

“Hey,” Carter says softly, smiling at you when you gaze up at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just needed some quiet.” You take a deep breath. “It’s a bit too much, I guess.” 

Carter is your best friend; has been, for years, and you would trust him with literally anything, so you don’t hesitate, telling him the truth. You don’t think there’s anything you’ve not told him the truth on.

Except when he asked you why you never said yes to the boys asking you out on dates.

First, you’d tried to dodge, told him you never got asked, but that didn’t work because James had asked and you’d shot him down, and James was on the hockey team with Carter so obviously Carter had found out.

When he confronted you with that, you just shrugged. 

“Just not into it, Cart.” 

Because they’re not you. I would say yes if it was you. But those are words only meant for your own ears, words your heart utters into the silent void because there’s no way your brain would even let you say them out loud, not when it could ruin the best friendship you have. 

“You know,” Carter says now, “maybe we see a shooting star. Then you could still make your birthday wish.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you on about?” 

He laughs, lightly. “I saw you when you blew out your candles, on the cake, earlier. You were super quick with it, there’s no way you made a wish.” 

It earns him an eye roll, from you. 

“Maybe I didn’t wanna make a wish. Maybe there’s nothing I wish for.” 

“Everyone has something they wish for,” says Carter wisely. He bumps your shoulder and then frowns, suddenly. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re freezing.” 

You put your hands on your own arms, wrap your arms around yourself, to feel that indeed your skin is cold and there’s goosebumps on your arms. Before you can comment on it, Carter has taken off his hoodie and is tugging it - not so carefully - over your head.

“Auw,” you whine, “you’re pulling my hair.” 

He immediately stops, then very slowly pulls the fabric down the rest of the way. It’s worse, that way, makes it feel more intimidate than it is. 

“Well,” you say finally, “there’s no shooting stars, so I guess no wish for me, this year.” 

Carter sighs, sounding defeated, then glances at his watch and his whole face lights up. 

“It’s 11:10! You can make a wish at 11:11!”

You can’t help but giggle at his excitement. “Cart, that doesn’t even have anything to do with my birthday.” 

“No,” says Carter, talking slow, as if he’s explaining something to a toddler. “They’re more special. Everyone gets a birthday wish, because everyone has a birthday. Not everyone catches the 11:11, though. That’s the universe telling you it’s your turn for a little bit of luck.” 

It’s dumb, and you don’t believe it, but he says it so adorably convinced, that when he motions at his watch that it’s time, you close your eyes and make a wish.

It’s fine if the wish will never come true. As long as it makes the tall, slender boy next to you happy, the way he does you. 

---

Carter’s first year as a Flyer is stressful.

You get to watch it from up close cause you followed him to Philly; there was never really an option not to. You know, after years of searching for something else, someone else that makes you feel the way he does, that it’s a lost cause.

It’s him, for you. It’s always been him. 

You’re driving to his apartment, the night of what you knew has been a hard game. They lost, again. You know Carter will - wrongfully - blame himself, again. You know you’re gonna do whatever it takes to pick up the pieces, again, and probably fail, again. 

Maybe Carter’s stupid goalie superstition has rubbed off on you, but when you drive through a tunnel, you hold your breath until the end of it.

Let him be okay.

His front door creaks as you open it; he gave you a key as soon as he moved in, and you’ve been using it ever since. You don’t even think you know what his doorbell sounds like.

“Carter?” you call out. You know he’s not asleep; he never sleeps well, after losses. It takes him ages, tossing and turning in his sheets until he just gives up and sits on the balcony, staring at the stars.

He says it calms him down.

You’re pretty sure you know where to find him.

“Cart?” you mutter, opening the balcony door carefully, and indeed, there’s a human figure slumped over the railing, head down, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. At your voice, he looks up, and you’re struck with how tired he looks. 

Dark circles surround his bright eyes, which seem to light up the dark night as much as the city lights below you.

You go stand next to him, close enough for your shoulders to touch; warmth is still radiating off him, his cheeks are flushed. 

“I don’t get what you’re looking at, here,” you tell him, giving him time to decide whether or not he wants to talk about the game. You know he doesn’t do well when you push him. “You can’t even see the stars. The city lights are way too bright.” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “The stars were so much more beautiful back home.” 

“Do you miss home?” Carter asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Some things. You?” 

“I miss my family.” Carter pauses. “Not home, so much. I thought I would, but, the one part I thought I’d miss the most...” Another pause, then a tentative smile. “Well, she followed me here.” 

Your heart flutters at that and you have to remind yourself that he’s just in a mushy mood, probably trying to hide his emotions about the game. 

But you still wanna let him know you appreciate it, and you feel the same, so you lean closer, letting your head drop to his shoulder. Right away, his head is resting on top of yours.

“Can you wish on city lights?” you ask, just to fill the quiet night, and he chuckles.

“Probably not, but I don’t think I’ll need the stars to wish on. I make wishes when I hold my breath in tunnels, when I throw pennies in wells, when I blow out candles...” 

“There’s no wells around here,” you interrupt, and you feel Carter’s shoulders shake with muted laughter. It’s so much better than the sad expression he wore when you got here, and you feel the brick that’s settled in the pit of your stomach since you saw the score, slightly dissipate. 

“I think it’s probably around 11,” says Carter, then. “If we catch it, we can make another wish.” 

You know what you would wish for; the same thing you’ve been wishing for for 8 years. You also know you might as well be wishing for the sky to turn purple, so you’re not really too worried about catching 11:11.

“What do you wish for, anyway?” you ask him. He turns slightly, so he’s facing you now, and incredulous look on his face.

“You really don’t know?” he says. “It’s the same thing, every time.” 

“How would I know?” you huff. “You’ve never told me.” 

“Guess.” 

You don’t see the fun in this game but you’d do anything to see him smile, anything to keep his mind off the game, so you humor him.

“Stanley Cup.” 

“No.” 

“Vezina?” 

“Nope.” 

“World peace.” Carter seems like that guy.

“No, but I would, if I thought it was possible.” 

“A puppy.” 

He laughs. “No, but I should.” 

“I don’t know, Cart,” you tell him, smiling now. You expect him to say something silly, but a serious expression crosses his face, and then his hands come down and grab hold of your hips. He takes a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“What...” are you doing, you start, but he interrupts you.

“When I wish on 11:11, I’m wishing for you.” 

His lips touch yours before you’ve processed the words, but as soon as you realize what’s happening, you hook your arms behind his neck, push up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeper. 

You try to put everything you have into that kiss; try to tell him, wordlessly, that you wanna grow old together, wanna be his person, want him to stay with you even when you’re scared, that you think he’s beautiful and magical and everything you could ever wish for. 

That every time you wish on shooting stars and ticking clocks, you’re wishing for him too.

“I think we might’ve missed 11:11,” is the first thing you say when you finally pull apart, breathing a little heavily, Carter’s cheeks tinted a little pink.

He breathes out a chuckle, rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s okay,” he says. 

“I’ve got all I’d wish for right here.” 

#carter hart #philadelphia flyers #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #carter hart imagine #philadephia flyers imagine

[alwaysnforeverfangirl]

Dance Me To The End Of Love - Prologue

Introduction of the fic

A/N: this is my first fic in English so I apologize for the mistakes in grammar and way of writing. This is just the prologue so nothing really happens in here, it’s more of an introduction to the story of my OC. Although Fred doesn't appear in the prologue both characters will meet very soon. Hope you like it, Rach💖

Summary: Veronica Reed has a nightmare before the day her life changes forever. 

Warnings: torture, death, mentions of war, mentions of anxiety.

italics are flashbacks/memories

(gif taken from Pinterest)

There it was again. In her chest, hiding behind her ribs. The pressure that she had grow to fear. She whipped away the sweat on her forehead while releasing a sob that she had hold. The cold air of the night painted goosebumps on her skin when she moved the covers of the bed, her feet touch the carpet that decorated the floor of the room and she started to make her way to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.

Veronica Reed knew very well her condition. That's why she was so afraid of the anxiety that always came after remembering her father's death.

-Rabastan…

The voice of Alaric Lestrange was barely a whisper. In front of him a man dressed in black robes was giving him a wicked smile. Behind his long hair Alaric could recognize the features of his younger brother.

-It’s been a long time brother.- Rabastan’s voice was hoarse. He was moving around the place, searching for something while laughing at Alaric.- I didn't have the opportunity to give you my condolences on the loss of your wife.

Alaric’s body tensed up, thinking of the day Anna was brutally killed by Fenrir Greyback. She had fought in the war even though Alaric didn't want her too. They had a daughter and the thought of leaving her orphan haunted him, he had promised himself that she would have the loving family that he never had.

“She will grow healthy and free and she’ll understand what we fought for and why we couldn't hide away while the world we believe in was at risk.” With those words being said, Alaric Lestrange joined the Order of the Phoenix with her wife Anna Reed by his side. He knew she was right. He couldn't keep on running from his family and the atrocities that people like them were doing to the Wizard Community.

-She had an amazing magic ability for a mudblood…- The younger of the Lestrange brothers started to approach Alaric in a threatening way.- The child that you two had together… Where is she?

At that moment Alaric realized why Rabastan was there. He was furious about the fall of the Dark Lord and he definitely had heard about the rumors. Not only he was there to torture him like he and their older brother had done while they were kids. He was there to capture his daughter and found out if what people said was true. But Alaric knew that if Lord Voldemort followers were to find Veronica she would become a slave, and that’s the reason why he came back to the United States when Anna died. To protect their daughter and help her understand what she was able to do before anyone could use her.

-You haven't said a word yet dear brother. Has the cat got your tongue? - Rabastan left a creepy laugh.- You know pretty well what I’d do to you if you don’t show me where your daughter is.

-You’d do it even if I do as you say.

Rabastan smiled, he took Alaric’s face with his left hand and pointed his wand to his chest. This wasn't the first time both brothers were in this position, although usually Rodolphus Lestrange was behind Rabastan, with his chest filled with pride as the younger of the family showed the middle one what they called discipline. It had always been this way, ever since the three of them were kids both Rabastan and Rodolphus would haunt Alaric. They would hex him just because he was different, just because he didn't share the same ideas as his family. It got worse when he started Hogwarts and he was sorted into Hufflepuff. “Our family has been in Slytherin since that school was founded and now a miserable Hufflepuff…” Alaric would never forget the voice of his father and the disgust in his mother’s face. Both of his brothers made his life a terrible one until he flew from England, escaping from the pain that the Lestrange name brought him.

A red light came out of Rabastan’s wand and Alaric fell to the floor in pain. He could feel the cruciatus curse invading his body and he failed to silence a scream. In a wardrobe, near the window of the room a small toddler shifted at the sight of her father’s aching. The torture continued for at least five minutes and Alaric stopped trying to keep silent, he didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing him suffering but the stinging in his bones and skin was too much.

Veronica knew that her father would be upset if she got out from the place she was hiding but seeing Alaric crying of pain on the floor awoke something in her. In her chest a pressure started building and her body started to tremble.

-You’re going to die Alaric. Why not have a moment of peace before you go? Tell me where she is and I will kill you fast.

-Never…

-You and your stupid moral code. You really think that these people you defend are worth fighting for? That your filthy mudblood wife deserved a life?- The poison in the voice of Rabastan only increased when he saw how his brother was fighting the curse.- You refused to have a good life, to carry the honor of our family name, all of the glory that runs through our veins for what? A fair cause?

-I’ve never share our family beliefs…- Alaric’s voice was almost inaudible. Every inch of his body was in pain.

-Oh no, I know that very well…You and your choices throw dirt to our name ever since you decided to do the right thing.- Rabastan laughed, he kneeled in front of his brother and spoke to his face with anger.- You. Are. A. Traitor.- He spited in his face and kicked him in the stomach.

Right when Rabastan stood up the doors of the wardrobe opened up.

-Stop! Let him go!

Rabastan turned to look at the origin of the sounds and his eyes landed on a three year old. He sent the most horrifying smirk to Veronica and returned his attention to his brother.

-Found her.- He said to Alaric with a creepy smile.

Alaric looked at his daughter, she had her mother’s fire, her eyes were burning with anger and her breathing was accelerating. He knew what was gonna happen, and even though he was sure he wouldn't be able to see it, he knew for certain that his daughter was going to win that fight. While Veronica gave a regretful smile to her father for disobeying what he had told her earlier Rabastan’s wand emitted a green light and Alaric’s life left his body.

Veronica screamed and the window’s glass shattered. The light of the room became darker and everything started to shake. When Rabastan’s eyes returned to Veronica he could see clearly how the figure of a three year old transformed into a black cloud. A sudden strength pushed him to the ground and knocked the air from his lungs. Rabastan Lestrange couldn’t breath, his blood was burning and he wasn't able to do anything. He was sure that he would join his brother’s faith in any minute, but it didn’t happen.

-Same nightmare again?

Veronica put the glass down and turned to look at John. He had a tiring smile on his face and his hair was a mess due to having fallen asleep on the armchair of the living room. She tried to return the smile to the man who had raised her.

-I’d love for it to be a nightmare but we both know it isn’t.- Her voice was sweet, a perfect contrast with what was going on through her mind at that very moment.- It’s been the fourth time this week and I don’t like it. I feel like I’m losing control…

-It’s normal, given the times we live in. You don't have to worry, we��re gonna see Scamander and Dumbledore tomorrow.- John caressed Veronica’s cheek and she sighed.

-I’m afraid of it. I don’t want to loose control again, not like last time.

-You won’t do it. Try to rest. - He laughed at the bags under her eyes.- We have a long day ahead and I’m pretty sure you don’t want your first impression to be a bad one, and well, with that…- He pointed at her eyes and she whipped aways his hand.

-Fuck off…

Both John and Veronica laughed at her bluntness.

She did what he told her and decided to go back to bed. Tomorrow they’ll leave The States behind and go to England. The same journey that her parents did when she was born. The same moment in life. The same darkness over the world and the same determination to fight for what she believed in. Even almost the same group of people fighting by her side. 

She only hoped for her destiny to be not the same as her parents.

#harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #original character #death eaters #rach writes #wizarding war #lestrange #lestrange family #fanfic #fred weasley x oc

[megalony]

Teacher’s Pet- Part 9

Here is the new part for my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying, the feedback for this series has been lovely thank you all for the comments.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​ @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @im-an-adult-ish @gwilymleeisbae​ @k-k0129​

Series masterlist

Summary: Gwilym sets Ben up on a date with (Y/n) who teaches at the school Ben’s kids go to. But Ben is hesitant in the relationship, desperate not to make the same mistakes and needing to put his kids first.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What, so you just leave him awake?" (Y/n) leaned her head to the side as she looked over at Ben in curiosity and slight confusion.

"It's... he's not a baby anymore. When he was a baby or a toddler I could lay him on my chest and I'd fall asleep and eventually he would too, he was always with me when he was a kid. Now he's older I can't lay with him because I fall asleep and he either draws on me, he'll sit up and watch tv whilst I sleep or he tries to play games or read. If I leave him he lays awake and lulls himself to sleep."

When Carter was born he would lay on Ben's chest and fall asleep and when he was a toddler Ben hated leaving him to sleep at night on his own. So he would either lay him in bed with him or sit Carter on his chest and put him to bed when he eventually fell asleep.

Now Ben couldn't do that every night and he had Finn who he had to calm down and put to sleep and keep getting up to see. Carter had to learn to try and get himself to sleep because he was getting older now.

"What if he doesn't sleep or he gets up and watches tv in his room?"

"I've programmed his tv to lock him out when it gets past ten o'clock so he can't watch or play anything and if he goes downstairs I usually wake up and hear him. I'm a light sleeper with them three in the house. He'll lay in bed and try and sleep and if he can't, normally he will just lay and rest and think or maybe read a book which I don't mind as much."

Ben knew Carter couldn't help what time he went to sleep, it only bothered Ben if Carter tried to stay awake and watch movies or play games or keep his mind active. But if he just laid down and chilled or tried to relax and calm down then Ben was happy. If it was a particularly bad night Ben didn't mind him reading because Carter got headaches easily from reading and he couldn't read for over an hour which was a godsend at night.

"What about James and Finn then?" (Y/n) leaned her head on Ben's shoulder as she pulled the cover a little higher over them both. All the boys were now in bed and she and Ben were in his bed watching a random movie on tv. It was ten o'clock now but since it was Sunday tomorrow they could all have a lie in. The weekends were good because when Carter eventually fell asleep Ben would leave him in bed until he either woke up or Ben woke him up late morning.

One time Carter didn't go to sleep until five in the morning so Ben left him in bed until dinner time because he needed the sleep.

"James is fine, he'll sleep through the night no problems. With Finn it's up and down, if he's been anxious all day he'll wake up during the night so I either stay awake or set an alarm to check on him during the night. If he's not been too bad during the day he might have a good night. If he wakes up crying I'll go to him but if he panics he'll come in here, I told him it's fine to come in even if you're here and asleep."

Ben had a rough time sleeping because of the boys.

He was a light sleeper ever since Carter was a baby but it was worse now, even the slightest noise woke him up during the night. Ben woke up to check on Carter at around one in the morning, then he checked on Finn, sometimes he set an alarm to check on them both at three in the morning then he was normally up by six. If Carter was up and messing about Ben woke up and stayed awake with him and if Finn woke up screaming or crying Ben settled him back down to sleep and usually kept Finn in his room with him to make the youngest boy feel safe.

Ben only got a proper night's sleep when the boys were at his parent's house or if it was just him and James at home, but he didn't mind as long as they all got some sleep.

The tv started to blur into the background and Ben was close to turning the tv off but he felt (Y/n) jump beside him when the bedroom door burst open. Ben was used to all the boys running in and out whenever they liked, it made him want to get a lock on the bedroom door but Carter would break it and Finn would sit and have a panic attack.

A sigh passed through Ben's lips and he looked at the door to see Carter all but run into the room and bound over to Ben's side of the bed.

"Can I watch tv with you please? Dad I'm not tired, can I, you said we can have a lie in tomorrow."

(Y/n) noticed the way Carter glanced over at her a few times but he didn't glare or smile, he looked indifferent like she was either not there at all or didn't make a difference and she didn't know how to feel about that. She also noticed the way he was trying not to rush through his words and that suggested he was rather hyper at the moment.

"It's past ten, you need to go to bed."

"I'm not tired, daddy please-"

"You're never tired and you're not staying in here buddy, you need to go and calm down and try to sleep. I'll come sit with you for a bit if you want." Ben sighed as he glanced between (Y/n) and Carter for a few seconds. Carter was hyper and he was either going to try and sneak downstairs to watch tv, try and play games or just sit and be very hyper for the night. Ben was going to have to try and calm him down before he let Carter try and get to sleep on his own.

"Why don't I come and sit with you?" (Y/n) looked at Ben for approval before she looked back at Carter whose eyes narrowed before widening but his expression didn't really change. He looked indifferent yet uncertain, he didn't know how to interpret this or how to act so he was trying to be neutral.

(Y/n) was going on instinct on how to act around Carter, Ben raised him and had learned Carter's ways and his expressions and tones of voice, (Y/n) was trying to navigate through them. She thought sitting with him might help to get him used to her being around and able to talk to her and it would help her to try and bond with him if he allowed her to sit with him.

"Buddy, is that okay?"

Carter nodded and they could both hear his foot tapping against the floor impatiently before Ben motioned for him to go and (Y/n) would follow but before (Y/n) got up Ben gently took her hand.

"Talking to Jamie's unsettled him, that's why he's hyper. He thinks it's good that she called and she's gonna keep calling but she won't and deep down he knows that. He's hyper because he isn't comfortable about this and that means he might be rude or snap at you because that's how he thinks he has to react. Don't take anything he says to heart."

Ben didn't want (Y/n) to go and sit with Carter and then feel upset or uncomfortable if he became rude or unsettled and snapped at her or even if he said something he knew would rile (Y/n) up. Carter became very hyperactive and very uneasy when Jamie called because it disturbed his routine and his mood. He thinks he has to be rude and be hurtful when he feels unsettled because that's how he feels he should act but he didn't mean it and (Y/n) had to know that before she went and talked to him.

"Okay." (Y/n) smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss him before she got up and went into Carter's room.

Because Carter was awake most of the night almost every night, he couldn't share a room with James or Finn and when Carter got angry he definitely couldn't be in a room with them in case he snapped and lashed out at his brothers. Having James in the room made Finn feel calmer especially at night if he had a nightmare and James was always in a deep sleep so when Finn woke up crying or upset or just from a nightmare, James didn't get woken up.

Ben could feel his eyes growing heavy but the longer he felt like he was about to give in to sleep, the more he realised that (Y/n) had been quite a while sitting with Carter and Ben didn't know how to take that. Either they were engaged in conversation which could be both good or bad, or Carter was very hyper and (Y/n) didn't want to leave him or didn't know what to do.

With a sigh, Ben pushed himself up and out of bed and slowly made his way out of the room and across to Carter's room. He didn't want to barge in if everything was going okay because he really didn't want to check up on them both but he couldn't help it. Since the door was open a little, Ben pushed it a tiny bit more and leaned his head around the door to peek into the room.

Carter's room was the box room since he couldn't share with either of his brothers. His bed was on the right hand side of the room with the window opposite the door and a tv behind the door at the end of the bed. Carter had a lot of video games in his room because he didn't like playing his games with anyone but Ben, not even with his brothers. And he had a few sensory toys for when he was upset or had a tantrum or needed something to do to entertain himself. It surprised Ben that Carter didn't mind having the smallest room but the compact space didn't bother him, it seemed to suit him rather well.

He felt safer rather than boxed in.

Ben felt a shock wave of surprise ebbing through him when he looked at (Y/n) and Carter. He assumed they would both be sitting up on the bed chatting or reading a book or maybe even having an argument or (Y/n) trying to calm Carter down from a hyper state. But instead of anything like that, what Ben saw was (Y/n) laid under the covers with Carter huddled under her arm curled into her side. (Y/n) was very slowly and methodically carding her fingers through Carter's hair like she was soothing him to sleep.

Carter's eyes were half-lidded and he looked the calmest Ben had seen him today and seemed to be on the verge of sleep already but he was trying to make the effort of keeping the very quiet conversation going.

(Y/n) stopped talking for a moment when her eyes locked with Ben when she noticed him hovering in the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to draw his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

She thought it would have been hard to get Carter to talk to her but he was very talkable and he wasn't trying to be rude or annoying or make (Y/n) feel uncomfortable. He genuinely just wanted to talk and when he asked (Y/n) to lay with him she couldn't refuse. Carter quickly burrowed himself under her arm like he was taking refuge and cuddled into her side, he wanted nothing more than closeness and to be comfortable and talk to (Y/n) and she found it endearing yet rather heartbreaking.

Carter wanted another figure in his life, he wanted a motherly figure because he couldn't have his own mother and he was seeking that from (Y/n) because she was the closest thing he had to a mother right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) felt like a knife had gone straight through her heart that was doing somersaults in her chest when a scream hit her ears and tore her from her sleep. She shot up beside Ben who was already sitting up and ready to throw the cover off his frame and run out the room. They both locked eyes for a moment before another sound that resembled a growl and a cry hit their ears and (Y/n) realised Ben was confused.

"That's Carter..."

(Y/n) didn't know how to respond to that but she could see that this wasn't normal. Ben always woke up to Finn crying out for him or running into the room unable to breathe or Finn even screamed in his sleep, but it was very rare that Carter was the one screaming and crying or having a nightmare because he hardly slept. Even (Y/n) had been expecting to wake up to Finn being the one in distress needing to be calmed down during the night. She didn't think or even consider James or Carter having a nightmare.

"Does this normally happen?" (Y/n) got out of bed when Ben jumped to his feet the moment Carter let out another cry that seemed to shake the walls of the house.

"That depends if he's been asleep. He's either having a meltdown or he's having a nightmare and either way this is Jamie's fucking fault. When she left he always had nightmares and she's unsettled him now."

Carter suffered from nightmares since he was little after Jamie left because he had to adjust to living Ben and James and James' mum. Then it was just him Ben and James and that uneased him more because both mother figures had left his life. Then when Lucy came and left and Finn came into the picture he was even more unsettled because he didn't have Ben's undivided attention. Carter needed stability and Jamie was the opposite of that, she unsettled him and made him feel uncomfortable and upset and that unbalanced his world.

Ben hurried into Carter's room as he prayed that he could calm down his eldest before Finn heard and started to panic but when he went in he was scared at what he was faced with. The ten year old was curled up in the middle of the bed with the cover pulled very tight over his whole body making him a covered up ball in the bed. If the cover was thrown on the floor or strewn about the bed then Ben would know Carter was having a nightmare but the way he was hiding himself showed he was having a meltdown.

When a violent scream tore from Carter's lips and he seemed to curl in on himself more, Ben hurriedly moved over and sat down on the bed near to the pillow. He wanted to reach out and pull Carter into an embrace but he knew from experience that trying to hug him when he was like this might make him worse.

"Baby... baby you know you can't lay like this." Ben slowly peeled back the cover from Carter's head so he wasn't at risk of smothering himself but the moment Ben uncovered Carter's head he lashed out and smashed his hand into the wall with a cry. "Okay come on." Ben kept the cover wrapped tightly around Carter's arms and hands like mittens before he gently pulled Carter into his chest.

He kissed Carter's head before wrapping an arm around him when he tried to lash out and started to get frustrated when the cover prevented him from moving. His legs kicked out and his arms started to thrash and Ben could see his hands fisting in the cover he wanted to rip off his body but he couldn't and it only made him scream louder.

"Does mum want me?" Carter's words were quiet and broken and he even dared to open his eyes to look up at Ben but the look he got back was an answer enough.

"Baby... she misses you and I know she loves you, but she doesn't want to be in your life right now. I'm sorry." Ben couldn't say it. He couldn't force himself to say that Jamie didn't want Carter even though that was true, she may miss him and she may love him but she didn't love or miss him enough and she didn't want to care for him or be in his life because she couldn't cope with him. That was her fault and her loss and it made Ben dismiss her as a mother, she didn't deserve to be called a mother if she wasn't willing to look after her own son.

The scream Carter let out was almost unbearable for (Y/n) who was hovering in the doorway so she couldn't even begin to wonder how that felt for Ben to hear. No child should have to deal with the fact that one parent didn't want them, especially not a child who needed stability and extra care and more understanding like Carter. But the extra care and attention he needed was exactly why he didn't have Jamie around anymore.

"Shh, shh you're okay, you have me and you have James and Finn and nan and grandad and you've got uncle Gwil and (Y/n). So many people love you, it's okay that your mum isn't around because you don't need her baby."

Carter let out a very loud wail when Ben slipped his hands under Carter's arms so he could pick him up and sit him on his lap with the cover still cocooned around him to make sure he didn't hurt himself or Ben. But despite the cries and screams continuously leaving Carter's lips, Ben and (Y/n) both noticed he was looking over at (Y/n) a lot.

"Do you want me?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in their sockets and she felt her lungs shrivelling up in her chest until she couldn't breathe. Her vision blurred from the tears welling up in her eyes but that didn't distort the image of Carter staring back at her. His eyes were red and puffy, they were streaming with tears that fell down his bright red cheeks and his nose was running. He looked very angry yet scared and vulnerable but the way he looked at her made (Y/n) speechless.

He wasn't looking indifferent like he did earlier, he wasn't angry with her or at her, he wasn't snarling or about to scream at her. For the first time, he looked desperate. He looked desperate for her love and attention and if she said no to his question he might just explode.

Carter stopped screaming, he stopped letting out heart-wrenching sobs and he wasn't thrashing around to try and hurt himself or lash out. He was breathing heavily through his runny nose and his eyes were intent on (Y/n) as he tensed, waiting very impatiently for her answer. Ben had never seen his son so intent on an answer like this, nor had he sat so still and waited like this rather than scream for her to speak. Carter really wanted (Y/n) to love and want him.

(Y/n) took a few cautious steps over until she could sit down in front of Carter on the bed and she watched the way he stopped breathing when she gently brushed a few tears from his cheek.

"Yes I do honey, I don't know your mum or why she doesn't want to be involved in your life but I do."

(Y/n) almost jumped when Carter wriggled in Ben's arms but instead of crying he let out a whine until Ben carefully let go of him and le Carter wriggle out of the cover. He scrambled over until he could clamber onto (Y/n)'s lap, he locked his arms around (Y/n)'s neck to the point it hurt but she stayed silent, not wanting to upset him. She wrapped her arm around his back and tangled her other hand in his hair to try and calm him down and make sure he was okay.

"Y-you can be my mum, c-can't you? I want a mum." Carter mumbled the words into (Y/n)'s neck and she could feel his harsh breaths despite the fact he was trying his best to calm down.

(Y/n) looked over at Ben for confirmation, she didn't want to say yes and have Ben be upset or uneasy about it but she didn't want to say no and have Carter become unsettled again. If he wanted to think of her as his mum surely that wasn't a bad thing because (Y/n) was in a relationship with Ben and Carter needed the stability and it meant he was fine with their relationship and with (Y/n). It also wasn't so bad because it wasn't like it would be with Finn, Carter knew (Y/n) wasn't actually his mum but he wanted her to be anyway. With Finn if he started calling (Y/n) his mum in a few years he could actually believe it because he was so young and impressionable.

There were tears in Ben's eyes and he was biting his lip hard to stop himself from getting overwhelmed just like Carter. Ben knew with James' mum she didn't want to be seen as a mum to Carter and that hurt but Ben had to understand that Carter was hard to deal with and he couldn't expect her to take Carter on as her own. With Finn's mum she tried with both boys but Ben was overwhelmingly happy she didn't connect with them in case she had ended up hurting them too.

He never thought he would be with someone who would be willing and who would actually connect with all three of his boys. But she was already joined at the hip with James, Finn was growing closer to her every day and a lot quicker than he got closer to other people. And Carter was the hardest to get to know and feel easy around but here (Y/n) was, connecting with Carter so good that he was desperate to feel like she was his mother.

When Ben managed to nod at (Y/n) to say whatever she felt was right, (Y/n) could feel her own eyes glossing with tears.

"I'd love to be your mum."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #BoRhap #dad! ben #gwilym lee #teachers pet

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {14}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Drank margs all day with my mom and im 2 beers in at home....excuse typos lol this chapter is to be continued....

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“That's everyone's dream, isn't it, really? Instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves-one who gives you everything.” ― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

Mila was sitting in the backseat, knowing they were going to see Amarantha, but not really sure of anything else. Azriel hadn’t known how to explain it to her. She was only four. He was trying to make light of it, even though he hadn’t slept at all the night before.

He hated Amarantha.

But he loved his niece. 

“Are we almost there?” she asked, looking out the window.

The prison was on the outskirts of the city, and that, to a toddler, felt like hours. 

“Yes,” Azriel said, glancing at the clock.

It was just after ten. 

“Excited to see mama?” Azriel asked.

Mila’s voice was soft when she said, “Yes.” 

It must have been scary, confusing, going to see your mom after you hadn’t seen her in a while, in a new place. Azriel had told her that they would have to not touch Amarantha, there were to be no hugs, and they wouldn’t be able to stay for long.

Mila was confused. 

Azriel tried to ease her confusion but wasn’t successful.

By the time he made it through the gates of the prison, Azriel just wanted it all to be over. He pulled Mila out of the car and held her as he walked through the doors.

They were stopped and searched. They forced Azriel to put Mila down as they searched his person, then they sent Mila through security, looking terrified.

“Alright,” Azriel began, gently, when they were inside. “All done. Now we get to go see mama.”

“Why mama here?” Mila whispered.

Azriel just gave her a smile.

They were led to a big meeting room and told to sit, where inmates were already talking with friends and family. Azriel sat with Mila on his lap at a small, round table, and they waited. 

Neither of them spoke.

Even Mila, who loved to talk about anything to anyone, stayed silent. 

Amarantha was escorted in five minutes later, dressed in her tan scrubs. She saw Mila, and smiled. Azriel didn’t react as his sister met them in the corner, where they sat at the table.

“Hi, my baby,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to Mila’s head.

“Uncle Az says we can’t touch,” Mila said, hand in Azriel’s.

Amarantha hesitated, before sitting across from them. “Well, I can still kiss my baby. How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Mila said, quietly. “I like staying with Uncle Azzie, though. I go to school and have a unicorn backpack. Uncle Azzie makes me lunch for my batman lunchbox, too.”

“You and Batman,” Amarantha chuckled, and for once, Azriel thought she almost looked human. He and Amarantha used to watch Batman on Saturday mornings - a tradition Azriel brought to Mila the moment she was born. Batman, the best of all superheroes. 

“Uncle Azriel seems to be taking good care of you,” Amarantha said, glancing at Azriel.

His eyes were watching his sister, clinging to every word that came out of her mouth, ready to bolt the moment she said something wrong. 

“Yeah,” Mila said, finally starting to sound like her real self. “And Aunt Mor and Lain.”

Amarantha raised her eyebrows, then looked at Azriel.

“Mor is home from school for the Summer,” Azriel explained. “Elain is a friend of mine.” 

“Lain and Uncle Az are getting married,” Mila beamed.

Amarantha’s brows shot into her hairline.

“No, we’re not,” Azriel began, clearing his throat. “How have you been?”

It was obvious that he was only asking the question so that the spotlight would be off of him. 

“Not awful,” Amarantha said, sighing. “Would be nice if you sent money from time to time.”

Azriel, despite himself, laughed. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Help you get a candy bar while you’re locked up.”

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha looked back to Mila. “Tell me about your school, baby.”

They went on talking. Azriel sat still, Mila on his lap, as she talked to her mother. He let them catch up, watching the clock as it ticked by. They would leave soon. He would carry Mila to the car and get her away from there, buy her some ice cream, some chicken nuggets, and return to normalcy.

As much normalcy as they could have. 

“You don’t let her stay the night, do you?” Amarantha asked.

Azriel blinked, and when he looked at Amarantha, he realized it wasn’t the first time she had asked. “Sorry, what?”

“This Elain,” she repeated, and Mila was looking back and forth between her mother and her uncle. “She doesn’t stay the night, right? With Mila there? She shouldn’t be seeing that.”

Azriel hesitated. “You’re kidding, right?” 

She gave him a look that told him no, she definitely wasn’t.

“I…” Azriel trailed off, laughing. “You’re in fucking prison, and you’re worried about me setting a bad example?”

With thinned lips, Amarantha said, “I still care about my daughter, Azriel.”

“Yeah,” Azriel began. “So do I, which is why I’m fucking here. Don’t ask questions about my personal life. She’s well taken care of. I’ve always taken care of her. You know that, perfectly well.” He took one look into Mila’s eyes and instantly felt guilty.

They were wide, scared, confused, lost.

Azriel sighed. “Sorry, babe. Uncle Az is just tired.”

Mila leaned into his chest, and Amarantha watched the sight with jealousy. “I would like for Mila to come see me once a week, at least.”

Azriel shook his head. “I have a job, Amarantha. And she has school. I can’t get her here every Monday morning.”

“Then find someone who can,” she snapped. 

The threat she dished him over the phone days before replayed in his mind. Get her here, or I’ll have her stay with someone who can. You’re replaceable, Azriel. 

“Fine,” he gritted out.

Amarantha stood. It was five minutes until twelve. It was time to go.

“I love you,” she smiled, and pressed her lips to Mila’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Mila’s lip wobbled as she nodded. “Love you, mama.” 

Amarantha looked at her brother. “Azriel.”

“Amarantha,” he muttered. 

She walked away, Mila crying as she watched. Azriel felt helpless. He couldn’t make the situation better. A little bit easier, maybe, but never better. He held Mila closely to him as he stood, thanked the guards, and walked outside. 

Mila didn’t say anything else until they were back in the truck.

“Why did mama have to go with those men?” she asked, as Azriel buckled her into her carseat.

“They were guards,” Azriel said, then realized she had no idea what that meant. “They were there to make sure she knew where she was going.”

Mila nodded, slowly. 

“Lunch?” Azriel asked. “I was thinking of chicken nuggets and ice cream.”

Mila clapped. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Chicken nuggets and ice cream healed all. Azriel pulled out of the prison’s parking lot and headed back toward the city. Five minutes later, Mila was asleep. 

Azriel’s phone rang. 

“Hey,” he answered, picking it up quickly, hoping his obnoxious ringtone wouldn’t wake Mila.

“Hey,” Elain said, and he knew she was smiling, which made him smile. “How’d it go?”

“Okay. Could have gone worse,” he said, honestly. “Mila actually handled it pretty well, considering. She only cried and broke my heart a handful of times.”

“It must be hard for her,” Elain said. “She’s a tough little girl, though. And she had you with her, thankfully.”

Azriel shook his head. “You always look at the bright side, don’t you?”

 “I try to,” Elain said. 

Azriel propped the phone on his shoulder. “I like that about you.” She laughed, quietly. “What are you up to?”

“Getting ready for work,” she answered. “Ready to go sell overpriced kids clothes to a bunch of stay at home moms.”

Azriel chuckled. “Sounds fun.”

“Not so much,” she laughed. “But, I’m excited to see you later.”

“Me too,” he breathed. “I thought maybe, if you want, you could stay over...again.”

Elain paused. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Azriel said, trying to pretend he wasn’t ridiculously nervous every time he asked Elain to stay with him. It wasn’t that he expected anything, but he liked sleeping with her, lying with her in his arms. They kept saying they were going to take things slow, and they had, only sharing kisses and lying together, fully clothed, through the night. But, there was something intimate about sharing a bed with someone, no matter what you were doing in that bed. 

Azriel loved that intimacy. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah,” Elain said, softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

~~~~~

“At least the swelling is going down.”

It was true. A few days had passed since Rhyasnd’s incident with Tamlin, and he was able to see out of his eyes more and more as the swelling progressively went down. He had the day off of work, had most of the week off of work, but it sure didn’t make anything any easier. The more time he had off, the more time had off to dwell on everything. Feyre came home on her lunch, every day, fussing over him, even though he claimed he was fine.

And he was fine.

The pain wasn’t so bad. He still looked much worse than he felt. The broken ribs were the worst of it, but it was bearable. And the swelling of his eyes was much better - it was nice to be able to see.

“I thought we could go out tonight,” Rhysand said.

Feyre had just got home not long ago and she was already searching through the fridge, figuring out what to make for dinner.

She hesitated. “I thought it would be nice to stay in.”

“Why?” Rhysand said, trying not to grow frustrated. “I haven’t left the house in days.”

“I just prefer to stay home,” she murmured, closing the refrigerator before opening up the freezer. 

“Afraid people will stare?” Rhysand snapped. “I get I look like shit right now, Feyre, but I can’t hide in the house.” 

Feyre slammed the freezer door shut before turning to look at him, arms crossed. “No. I’m not afraid people will stare. But I am afraid that everyone we pass is going to report back to Tamlin, and he’ll find a way to make things worse.”

Rhysand raked a hand through his messy, black hair. “You act like he’s the head of the fucking mob.”

Feyre’s lips tightened, but she said nothing. She simply opened the fridge, once more.

“Whatever,” Rhysand shook his head. “I’m going out.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not!” she said, slamming a thawed package of chicken breasts onto the counter. And Rhysand instantly felt guilty, because there were tears in her eyes. “Please.”

Rhysand shook his head. “I’m not scared of him, Feyre, and you shouldn’t be either. It’s fucking Tamlin. He can only do so much harm.”

Feyre stared at him. “I just don’t feel like going out. And if you love me, you won’t fight me on this.”

The words were soft, all of her bite gone, her eyes dry. 

“You can’t keep using that,” Rhysand mumbled. “If you love me...You know I do.”

“Too much,” Feyre said.

“Not possible,” Rhysand breathed. “Even though you’re being a pain in the ass.”

Feyre’s eyes rolled. “The only pain in the ass here is you.”

Rhysand pushed himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, Feyre watching each of his steps with narrowed eyes. When he reached her, he took her face into his hands and planted his mouth on her forehead. “I know.”

This earned him a smile. She traced the black designs inked across his chest. “It has nothing to do with you, with how you look. I’m just not ready to go out yet. I feel violated. And, yes, I feel scared. I know you can handle it, you can take care of yourself and all that, but I’m not ready to get another call, calling me to the hospital because you were knocked unconscious.” 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pushing her hair back. “We can stay in. I’ll help cook.”

Feyre arched a brow. “You’re going to help me cook?”

“I can cook.”

“We both know that’s total bullshit.”

Rhysand barked a laugh. “Challenge accepted.”

Feyre stilled. “What?”

“I’m making you dinner.”

“That’s not what-”

“Sit back and relax, Feyre, darling. I’ve got this.” 

With a look of pure uncertainty, Feyre sat down by the island, hesitantly, and folded her hands together. “Can I at least-”

“No.”

“But I-”

“Nope.”

Feyre scowled. “Fine. But I’m going to sit here and judge you the entire time.”

Rhysand grinned, grabbing a bottle of wine from the stand and a glass from the cabinet. He poured it, the glass filling halfway, and slid it to Feyre on the island. “Enjoy.” 

“Enjoy watching you burn everything?” Feyre asked, fingers pulling the glass of sweet white wine toward her. 

“Would it help if I were naked?”

Feyre howled. “Although I wouldn’t mind, I prefer you don’t jeopardize my favorite part. If little Rhys were to get burned, I’d be heartbroken.”

“Little Rhys?” he grinned, pulling out a bunch of asparagus. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“What do you usually call him?”

“I don’t know,” Rhysand said, shrugging. “Something that sounds a little more dangerous than Little Rhys.” 

Feyre sipped her wine as she watched Rhysand cut up the raw chicken. “Like what?”

Rhysand laughed, tossing the cut-up chicken into a skillet. “I don’t know. Maybe Bruce. Or Wolverine.” 

Feyre nearly spat out her wine. “You want me to start referring to your penis as Bruce?” 

“You’re right,” Rhysand hummed. “Definitely Wolverine.” 

Their night went on like that: nice, easy, light. He did everything he could to make her laugh, to make her smile, to make her forget about Tamlin, her fears, her discomfort. 

To her surprise, Rhysand didn’t burn their food. And to both of their surprise, it actually tasted pretty damn good. 

After they ate, Rhysand did the dishes, no matter how much she protested, saying that he needed to relax.

He was tired of relaxing.

With a little more wine, her protests died down, and after Rhysand was done cleaning up the kitchen, she dragged him down the hall, to his bed, where they made love until Feyre was sleeping, soundly.

Rhysand watched her sleep, admired her soft snoring. 

He hated Tamlin for making her scared.

Rhysand couldn't live like that, Feyre could live like that, full of fear and paranoia.

It seemed Rhysand would have to do something to end it, once and for all, sooner rather than later.

~~~~~

“Hey, Bartender.”

Nesta’s eyes snapped over to the other end of the bar, where Cassian sat, grinning.

“Come to get drunk on a weeknight?” She asked. “Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Bright and early,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Whiskey.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “It’s always whiskey.”

“Of course it is,” Cassian agreed. “Be nice to me, though. You don’t want me to leave you a shitty tip.”

Nesta snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, watching her lean over the bar, toward him. “I promise to give you a good tip. And an even better tip, once you clock out.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed as his grin widened. 

“Fuck off,” she muttered, but was unable to control her smile.

Cassian laughed, but Nesta had frozen halfway to fulfill his request, because the door had opened, and someone new had walked in. He caught Nesta’s eye and walked toward the bar, sitting close to Cassian, only a stool away.

“Beer,” he said, grinning. “Whatever’s on tap.”

Cassian had seen him, too. Of course, he had. There weren’t that many people there, and he’d sat right by him. Nesta shook it off, grabbing a glass and filling it with whiskey. She slowly walked back to Cassian and set it down in front of him.

Cassian didn’t touch it.

He was looking at Tomas.

~~~~~

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #tacmc AITA #feysand #nessian #elriel #sjm #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

[amydancepants-peralta]

89, 91 or 98 please if you're taking prompts!! i can't decide !!!🥵🕊🕊

Me neither haha!  So ... here’s all three. 😅👶🏻💖

(89: “Mondays are your diaper days”, 91: “Oooh... someone’s got a tummy ache and 98: “I think we should have another.”)

i think our story needs more pages

There’s an unmissable smile of contentment on Jake Peralta’s face as he wipes down the last section of the kitchen bench, softly humming the theme song to Transformers while he rinses the washcloth under the tap.  (The original, of course - the remakes all have their merits but when it comes to theme songs, nothing beats the classic version, and that is the hill he will die on.)  

Not so long ago, a perfect day for him would have undoubtedly involved some sort of high-speed chase (or diffusing a hostage situation … or jumping from an exploding chopper with a knife between his teeth … he’s not fussy when it comes to the details, really) - but after spending the majority of today at their nephew Aaron’s third birthday party, he finds himself completely unable to hide the sheer joy that is thrumming through his veins.

He knows that he could attribute a certain portion of his great mood to the lasting effect of that second slice of ice-cream cake he’d had mere hours ago (or the light-up keyring he won during pass the parcel), but it all really came down all of the sweet moments in-between: standing in the shaded sun, surrounded by family, and watching as his son played with all of his cousins.  

It’s the kind of life that once upon a time would have seemed totally implausible, but now was absolutely his reality, and just the mere thought of a thousand more days like it put Jake on an all-time natural high.  

It has been fifteen months since the birth of their son, a child born of liquid fire that went by the name of Mac.  Fifteen months of diaper changes, screaming fits and mashed food everywhere.  And also; fifteen months of the softest of cuddles, impossibly tiny hands wrapping themselves around his fingers, and the deepest of brown eyes that took in everything imaginable.  He misses sleep (oh, how he misses real, uninterrupted SLEEP), but if that was the tradeoff for having a miniature version of him and Amy taking wobbly steps around their apartment, Jake would do it all again in a nanosecond.  

He had no idea how powerful the sound Dada would be, but the first time he heard it on his son’s lips, he straight-up cried.  And … maybe again when Mama followed shortly after.  Now, Mac’s vocabulary has expanded to five whole words (including Wowo, which both he and Amy are 90% certain stands for Aunty RoRo, and have agreed that it’s best for everyone if Charles just simply doesn’t know), and both parents couldn’t be prouder if they tried. 

There’s been an idea in the back of his mind for a few months now, one that has grown all the more after today’s festivities, and after pouring both he and his wife a half glass of wine each Jake makes his way over to the living room, still unable to wipe the smile off of his face when he takes in the scene in front of him.

Mac lay stretched out on the couch, his tiny duck printed pyjama shirt riding high and exposing his belly button as he rests his head on Amy’s lap.  Fast asleep, his eyes remain closed as Amy’s fingers run gently through his hair, his tiny chest rising and up down in even breaths.  It’s a sight Jake’s seen a hundred times before, but one that he never truly gets enough of, and after quietly placing the wine glasses on a nearby table he reaches out to tug Mac’s shirt a little lower.  

“I think someone’s got a tummy ache,” Amy whispers, mirroring Jake’s responding pout as he settles down on the couch, their sleeping son in between them.  “He only had the smallest taste of the cake .. but I guess when combined with the excitement of the day and all the dancing he did, the poor little guy is just completely wiped.”

(Mac’s ‘dancing’ was really just an unsteady yet adorable bouncing in place, both feet planted to the floor as his arms flail about to whatever music just happens to be playing, and the similarities between that and some of Amy’s dance moves have not gone unnoticed.)

Jake furrows his brow in response, instinctively reaching out to run a soothing hand over his son’s stomach.  “He’s all Mac’d out.”  He’d watched from the rear view mirror on the drive home as the gentle bumps of the road lulled Mac to sleep, his tiny curls squished along the edges of the carseat he was buckled into.  His (at times, endless) energy had been renewed by the time Amy had carried him up the stairs, the sneakers that Uncle Charles had given him making high-pitched squeaks as he’d run with tiny toddler steps around their apartment (the contents of which by now were entirely child-proof) for the rest of the afternoon.  

It was exhausting chasing after a toddler, but also strangely exhilarating, and watching Amy settle onto Mac’s play mat and help him with his building blocks as Jake had began to prepare dinner had just felt so right, it was hard to imagine what their afternoons used to be like pre-child.  

With his fingertip gently tracing the outline of one of the ducks on his son’s pyjama set, Jake watches as Amy uses her free hand to take a sip from her wine glass before speaking.

“I think we should have another.”  

His eyes squeeze shut as soon as he’s blurted it out, twisting his mouth into a wince.  There were a thousand different ways he could have phrased it (and lord knows he’s practised a few versions in the past few weeks), but nooo.  Great work as always, Peralta.

Amy’s head is cocked slightly to the side when he opens his eyes again, and she gestures vaguely at the glass.  “Another wine?  I’ve only just started this one.”

“Oh.  Ahh, no - sorry.  Ugh.  That was my terribly unsubtle way of saying that I’ve been thinking that maybe … we should try and have another baby.”

Raising her eyebrows, Amy’s hand stills amongst their son’s curly hair, and after a (thankfully brief) pause, she replies.  “You do?”

Jake can feel a soft smile begin to grow on his face, and he nods.  “Yeah, I do.”  Lifting his hand so that he can run his fingers ever so lightly along the bridge of Mac’s nose, he gives Amy a half shrug.  “I mean … I’ve watched you with your brothers over the years, and it’s just amazing the kind of bond all of you have.”  Mac’s eyelids begin to flutter, and Jake pulls his hand away before he accidentally wakes him.  “Even when you hate them with a passion, you still love them, and there’s just some things that you intrinsically know about each other without any prompting.  It’s the kind of closeness that can’t ever be replicated, and I would just really love to give Mac that kind of childhood.”

Amy smiles at the thought, giving Jake a tiny nod of encouragement to continue.

“I know that I had Gina a lot of the time, but at some point she would go home to her family, and then it was just me and my mom … and don’t get me wrong, that was great, but there were definitely times when I had wished that I could have had somebody to hang out with.  Especially when my mom started working two jobs and I saw her less and less.  TV and cake did an okay job raising me, but I do sometimes wonder … what if.”

With her nods growing bigger, Amy glances down at Mac.  “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking the same thing.”

Jake’s heart skips a beat, and he leans forward slightly.  As much as he might want to try and expand their family, it all really came to do Amy, and how she felt about it.  He’s never pressured her into anything, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now.  “You have?”

“Yeah.  Been thinking about it a lot, actually.  My family was loud growing up, but it was also kind of great.”

They grin at each other over their son’s sleeping form.  Maybe, this was actually going to happen.  

Mac wriggles in his sleep, his sock-covered feet stretching out slightly and nudging against Jake’s thigh, and Jake lifts them up to rest on his lap as he shuffles a little closer to Amy.  “This morning, when I picked him up out of his crib, he just had the biggest, gummiest smile on his face, and then he hugged me like there was no tomorrow and I just … it’s only the best feeling and … well, you know.”

“I do.  That little Mama! that I heard this morning?  I wish I had recorded it, it sounded so sweet.  He’s just the cutest.”

“Exactly!”  Jake reaches his left hand out, resting it on the portion of Amy’s leg that hasn’t been occupied by their sleeping son.  “And honestly, I just keep getting this image in my head of a mini Amy walking around; with tiny little binders tucked under her arm and the same gorgeous eyes as her mother, learning so quickly whenever her big brother shows her how to do something.  Can’t you see it, Ames?”

Laughing, Amy shakes her head.  “She wouldn’t have binders, Jake” and he nods because obviously a toddler wouldn’t have a binder, but then she continues.  “She’d have a notepad.  Binders are serious business.  You gotta work your way up to them.”

“Right, of course.  My mistake, babe.”

Covering his hand with her own, Amy links slides her fingers in between Jake’s and rests them there.  “It does scare me a little, though.”

Picking up on the sudden softness of his wife’s voice, Jake looks over carefully.  “Having another baby?”

She nods, a tentative smile lifting the edges of her lips for a mere second before falling.  “Yeah.  I mean … it wasn’t exactly easy last time.  What if next time, it’s even harder?  Or it just … doesn’t work?”

Jake’s eyes fall back down to their son, this miniature version of both of them had wished so hard for.  Amy was right - it hadn’t been easy last time, and there honestly weren’t any guarantees that it was going to be any better the second time around.  It’s one of the main reasons why it had taken him so long to talk to her about it.  But as he feels her fingers gently shift against his own, Jake realises the most simplest of truths, and looks back up at his wife.

“I know that this is probably going to go against all of your instincts, but when it comes to this I think we just kind of need to let fate play it’s hand.  We can only try, you know?  If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”  Shifting his weight, he rests his shoulder against hers.  “We’re a family, no matter what.  Whether there’s three of us, or four, or five.  We can get through anything, Ames.  If there is anything the past ten years have taught us, it’s that.”

The side of Amy’s head rests against his, and he feels her nod.  “I love you, Jake Peralta.”

Squeezing their fingers, Jake cranes his neck marginally to the left to leave a kiss against Amy’s hairline.  “I love you too, Ames.”

From below them, Mac rolls onto his side; one hand curling into Amy’s sweater, and both of them seperate slightly to watch him sleep.

Taking another tiny sip from her glass, Amy sighs happily.  “You know … if we do this, we’d really need to look into moving somewhere bigger.”  Her eyes wander over the room, eventually landing on a framed photo of the three of them that had been taken five months ago.  “Maybe even buying something, if we were really careful with our finances.”

Jake’s smile grows impossibly bigger, and briefly he wonders if he’s going to have sore cheeks tomorrow from all of it.  “Honestly?  That sounds kinda amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I mean …” Jake pauses, sliding his right hand along the back of his neck in a move that his wife has long since called ‘The Dropping of Peralta’s Guard’, feeling one side of his mouth slide up ever so slightly as he turns his attention back to Amy.  “I love this apartment, and living in the city, but … the only thing I’ve ever really owned is your heart.  And that beat up Mustang I had for a while there, but money-wise that was mainly on loan, so … yeah.  Just you.”  His hands raise quickly, showing his palms in surrender.  “Not that I own you or anything, because that’s ridiculous, I just meant that you totally own mine and that’s - mmff” the rest of his sentence is muffled, the press of Amy’s lips against his stealing the last fragments of thought, and by instinct his arms wrap tightly around her waist, as best as he can with Mac still resting on their laps.    

Amy’s smiling as she pulls away, her hand sliding down his cheek until she’s resting her thumb in the tiny dimple at the bottom that he’d always hated until the love of his life made it a favourite, and honestly, how she makes his heart flutter even after all this time is just pure magic.

“I know what you meant, babe, and I love you for saying it.  You absolutely own my heart … well, you and Mister Mac do, anyway.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

Sliding his right hand further up his wife’s back, Jake pulls in her for another kiss.  He would happily share the space with Mac, and any other children that they might end up having, for the rest of his life (and maybe a hundred or so more years after that).  Toying with the ends of her hair as they part, Jake’s shoulders rise in a tiny shrug.  “Honestly, falling in love with you is the best investment I’ve ever made.  But the thought of actually buying a house with you, and turning it into a home that our kids will grow up in?  A backyard filled with toys and swing sets and maybe even a cat or two?  It sounds like the greatest idea ever.”

“And maybe a park nearby, where we can teach our kids to ride a bike?”

“Plus a basketball hoop over the garage door - because their Dad can dunk, and he’s totally going to show them how.  Not to mention a study lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, all of them filled to the brim.”

Amy’s eyes begin to glisten slightly, and she leans in to rest both of her hands on Jake’s forearm.  “Don’t forget the front porch for us to sit on when we’re older, rocking in our chairs and stealing all of the other kid’s frisbees when they land on our lawn.”

“Of course!  We’re going to be the COOLEST house in the neighbourhood, with the dopest Halloween decorations.  Acting purely as a distraction, naturally, while we carry out whatever version of the heist we’re up to by then.”

Raising her chin slightly, Amy’s eyes turn suddenly serious.  “Your mind is going to be blown when you realise what I already have planned for then, Peralta.”

“Yet another reason to have a second baby!  One on each team!”

One of Amy’s eyebrows raises coyly, and she whispers “That’s what you think” as she leans in for another kiss, shortened by the soft laughter that falls from Jake’s mouth.  

“I really do love you, Ames.  Pre-emptive plotting for my children to heist against me and all.”

She giggles, and Mac lets out a tiny grumble as he begins to wake.  Scooting his butt to the edge of the couch, Jake slides his hand along his son’s back, holding him warm against his chest and tightening his grip as Mac nuzzles into his neck, still half asleep.  “Okay, time to take this party animal to bed.  Say goodnight, mommy!”

Raising herself up until she’s kneeling into the couch cushions, Amy leans in to press a kiss against Mac’s cheek, replicating the action on Jake’s as she pulls away.  “Goodnight, my sweet prince.  And babe, I think a diaper change might be in order.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jake nods.  “Yeah, I agree.”

“Want me to do it?”

“Nah.  Mondays are your diaper days, Sundays are mine.  I’ve got this.  You sit back and relax, and have a look at our schedules for when we can book a babysitter so that we can … practice.”

Resting her weight back down on her heels, Amy sinks her teeth into her lower lip.  “You know I’m a big believer in practice makes perfect, Peralta.”

“Indeed I do, Santiago.”  Lifting up one of Mac’s arms to mimic a tiny wave, Jake heads slowly towards Mac’s bedroom, intent on getting him changed and into bed with minimal disruption.  

(There ends up only being one tiny meltdown, but it’s nothing that a combined goodnight hug from both Mommy and Daddy can’t fix.)

*

In fifteen years time, there will be a house in Brooklyn - just outside the city centre, so close enough for the daily commute - that has contained so much love within its four walls that it has long since seeped into its foundation.

There will be a doorframe near the kitchen, marked with a variety of ascending lines drawn in marker, catalogued by both name and year as they rise.  A myriad of photos and commendations will line the walls (in no particular order, a fact that is made very clear), and the memories of each captured moment will last long after the images have faded.  

It will be their home - the Peralta-Santiago fortress against the rest of the world - and although life will forever throw curve balls their way, if there’s anything their children know for sure it’s that as a family, they’re always going to be there for each other.  No matter what. 

(Also, that Wario cheats.) 

#i hope you enjoy! #mac peralta #future baby talks #♥️❤️💗♥️❤️💗 #this ended up being a little longer than anticipated #peraltiago fic #b99 fic #jake x amy fic #thank you Johanna for the title!!!

[capseycartwright]

every year, i write myself a letter the night before my birthday, and i’ve posted most of them here - for posterity, i guess. and this year is no different - so here is my ode to 25. 

I’ve written one of these reflections every year, since I was 18 – and what started as a way for me to come to terms with my impending adulthood, has become one of the steadiest traditions of my life. In eight years of writing these posts, I’ve reflected on it all – put pen to paper and immortalised how it felt to be 18, 24, and all the ages that have become between. I finished university a month before my 22nd birthday – I finished my masters two weeks before my 23rd birthday. Every year, I write one of these posts and I wonder how life could possibly change any more in the year to come, and every year, July rolls around, and I reread reflections of years gone by and I realise that so much has changed and I’ve changed and it dawns on me what a constantly changing, evolving, wonderful thing life really is. 

Tomorrow, I turn 26. Somehow, that sounds so much older than 25. Not just a year older – no, it sounds so much more grown up than that. I was thinking, recently, about how my younger self would have imagined life at 26. I think she probably would have imagined a house and a husband, to start – and my life is far from that. The things I believed would be a measure of success when I was an adult are so vastly different to the things I believe to be a measure of success now, and more than anything, it’s kind of just interesting to think about.

My mum sent me some photos last week – photos of me as a toddler, as a child. I don’t blame her for feeling nostalgic, this time of year – I always do – and I think she’s probably more nostalgic than ever this year, because her baby is turning 26. The leap from being in your mid-twenties to being in your (almost) late twenties feels bigger, somehow, and when I say I am the baby, I really am. My brothers are the better part of a decade older than me; I have cousins who are older than my friends' parents, and my cousins' children are closer in age to me than most of my cousins are. It’s as if my transition to the middle of my twenties sort of signifies the end of an era, for my family. I was the last to be born, the last to go to school, the last to graduate from university, the last of this generation of my family to turn 26. 

There’s a sadness that comes with being the last of anything – your family savours the moments, big and small, because you’re the last person they’ll experience it with. Sure, there are more grandchildren and grand-nephews and grand-nieces than I can count in my family, but I was the last of a particular generation, of my parents' kids. There’s a sadness that comes with being the last – but more than anything, there is more love than I have ever known what to do with. You never stop being perceived as the baby, and I used to think that would annoy me, but as I get older, I think it’s probably one of the greatest privileges of my life – it’s as if there has always been a little more love, directed my way, because they know I’m the last and I think it’s only human for us to want to savour something before it's gone forever. 

My mum sent me some photos of me as a child, this week – and I can’t stop thinking about them, about the little girl I used to be. I think I was the happiest child – I only ever remember being happy. I only remember holidays and road trips and playgrounds and mountains and beaches and a mum and a dad who promised me faithfully from the moment I could understand it that I could do anything I wanted to. Swimming lessons, a decade of Irish dancing I quit in favour of art classes (something I was terrible at but my parents still happily paid for me to do for years). There was a brief stint with tennis, and then hockey – sailing, and kayaking, and windsurfing, too, though I clicked with those far more than I ever did with hockey. The point of all that is, I only ever remember thinking in how’s, and not in if’s. It was never if I could do something – no, it was how can I make this happen? It's something that’s followed me into adulthood, though I’m not sure my parents realised just how far their little girl with big dreams would take that mentality and run with it.

I never learned how to take no for an answer. Why would I? There’s always a solution, always a way around it. What’s meant for you, won’t pass you by – that’s what my mum and dad always say, and they raised me to believe the world is meant for me, I just need to go out and take it. 

I say all this because I look at photos of that little girl, and I think back on what being 25 has been like, and I can’t help but think about all the dreams I achieved this year, dreams that little girl I used to be couldn’t have begun to imagine.

25 was the year I got offered a permanent contract in a job I love. I have always been a very focused person – possibly to a fault, as I tend to get quite single-minded. But that single-minded focus is what got me here. When I decided this was the career path I wanted, I knuckled down and I did everything I could to get here – and it’s not an easy world to make it in, the one I find myself in, but I never stopped working for it. I worked a crappy internship that barely paid me enough to pay rent and eat – and then I worked two jobs at once for a year and loved every single second of the insanity. Two jobs just meant twice the opportunity to learn, right? I worked – and worked, and worked, until they created a job just for me and handed me a permanent contract and for the first time in my adult life I had stability and certainty and the promise of being able to do this job for as long as I want to. It’s a weird feeling, to know that the decision to leave this job will ultimately be mine, now - not one brought about by the end of a short term contract. I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave this job, though I’m sure the day will come - but for now, I have a job I love, and one that gives me purpose and joy and fulfillment and makes me excited to get out of bed, every day.

25 was about acceptance, I think. Accepting that the person I used to be, isn’t the person I am anymore - I’ve been changed, by some of the worst and best moments of my life. At the very least - how could I live through a global pandemic and not be changed by it? 

25 was about accepting that this is where I want to be, right now. Living abroad is a trip - no matter where you are, you’re always homesick for somewhere else, and so often, I sit and wonder if I made the right decision, or if I should just go home. 25 has been accepting I did make the right decision - for 23 year old me, when she first decided to move back here, and for 25 year old me, who’s thrived in a city where I’ve had to build a life for myself, no family, no friends, just a dream I felt like I owed it to myself to pursue - whether it worked out or not. I’m just one of the lucky ones who had it work out.

25 has been about accepting some things just can’t be fixed. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to admit - to myself, at first, and then out-loud, to friends and family. Some things are broken - and broken deliberately - and there’s no way to fix it, not when not everyone involved is even willing to fix it. The rest of my life is going to look different, to how I might have imagined it being when I was the little girl in those photos my mum sent me last week - but finally, I think I’m okay with that, because if 25 has proved anything to me, it’s that my life has never, and will never, be short of deep, enriching relationships that lift me far beyond who I could have imagined myself being as a child. I think I’m one of the luckiest people on the planet - I have a family that is beyond words. I could write a novel about my parents, and it would still never be enough to truly describe the kind of good, wonderful, kind, caring, brilliant, fantastic people they are. Nothing I could ever say will ever fully describe how much I love them, how grateful I am for them - and how lucky am I, to be able to say I was raised, and am still nurtured by, the greatest example of love and marriage and partnership I will ever know? 

I have aunts and uncles and more cousins than I can count - people I see often, and people I only ever see every few years, but all people who have always loved me unconditionally. And friends - oh man, my friends. Every year proves it to me more and more, but I have the most incredible friends. My mum reminds me of it, every so often - of how good my friends are, and God, they are the best people I have ever known. Friends, who hear about problems unfolding in my life and help me approach the solution in the most logical way. Friends, who talk me down from every panic and worry, no matter how silly. Friends, who literally hold my hand when I have to deal with something I’ve been dreading. Friends, who love me - not for who I used to be, when they first met me, but for who I am now, aged 25, grown and shaped by the life I have lived so far. 

Adulthood has been a process of realising life is never really perfect - but it’s full of beautiful moments that make every hard moment worth it. I could talk about so many beautiful moments this year - my niece falling asleep on me, the first time I got to meet her. My nephew, letting me carry him around, even though he’s way too big for it, now. Seeing my parents at the train station after so many very long months away from them. Cards, coming in the post - to say happy Easter, I love you, just to say hello. Texts, from friends I haven’t been able to see because the borders are still shut and it’s not safe, but who still say hi, good morning, I saw this and I thought of you. The moment I got my first dose of the vaccine and the nurse looked at my Irish passport and smiled, and said she was glad to be able to help me take another step toward going home. The moment my boss called me to say that she had gotten approval to offer me a permanent contract - the moment she told the rest of our team, and I realised just how appreciated I was. Slow Sunday brunches, and those first drinks when the bars reopened after lockdown. Wintery walks, and warm coffees, and doing everything we could to keep each other sane as we lived through the weirdest year of our lives. Good coffee - good food. A hot bath and a face-mask. FaceTiming a friend I haven’t seen in over a year because of the pandemic just to eat dinner together. Voice notes, describing the most mad and mundane things and making it so distance has never felt like it mattered. 

Writing.

Writing has always been a funny thing, for me. For so long, I had been so convinced that I needed to be a writer, or my life wouldn’t be truly fulfilled - and then when I realised I didn’t want to do that, I was lost. I wasn’t sure how to find my love for words again, and for years, on and off, I have fallen in and out of love with the hobby that has kept me sane during the craziest moments of my life. This year, 25, has been the first year in a long time that I feel like I have fallen completely, utterly, happily in love with writing - and maybe it's because I finally started writing for myself, and not for other people, and maybe that shows - but whatever it is, I am deeply, immensely, massively grateful to have found my love for writing again. 25 has been the year that I open a blank word document and feel inspired by the prospect, rather than crippled with anxiety.

25 has been about confidence, I think. Being confident in who I am - in my job, in my abilities. As much as I am proud of how much I have achieved in my career in a relatively short few years, it came complete with a side serving of imposter syndrome - and so 25 has been realising that I have achieved everything I have because I am really goddamn good at my job; and 25 has been realising saying that isn’t boasting, it’s the result of 5 years of university and even more years of working my ass off to get to where I am. I wish I could say I’m ending my 25th year as a completely confident person - I’m not. In some aspects of my life, maybe, but in others, no - and rather than dive down the rabbit hole that is my magnificent wealth of body image issues, I’ll just say that 25 has begun a process of healing - of appreciating my body, for how it has brought me this far, in life, of how resilient it is. I can figure out the rest later. 

My early twenties were the greatest adventure of my life - university, and studying abroad, and trips to new places every weekend, and no responsibilities beyond grades and making memories. It feels a bit like 25 has marked the end of a transitional period of my life - moving from the person who thrived at university and never imagined how life might be after, to becoming the person those years at university helped me to become. In a year, I will have been out of university longer than I was ever in it - and it’s strange, to voice that out-loud. When you’re in it, it feels like it’s always going to be the biggest part of your life, but it goes by, quicker than you realise. And that’s okay - really. Because growing up isn’t anywhere near as painful as I used to believe it would be. There’s a calmness, a certainty, a comfort, that comes with getting older, that I’m definitely ready for now. 

25 hasn’t been an earth-shattering year. So many of these have been written at wild, transitional moments of my life - the end of university, the end of my masters, the end of school, the end of my first six months living abroad. This year isn’t like that. This year, I turn 26 on a Wednesday - and I’m working, which is fine, because I’m getting to do a course I’m really excited about, and I’ll celebrate with some Korean food, and great company, and on Thursday, 26 will continue in much the same way as 25 did - in a job I love, surrounded by colleagues and friends and family who have always made sure I know I have never, and will never, be alone. And sure, I hope that this pandemic ends soon, and I can go back to rushing across Europe on every cheap flight and train I can get my hands on to discover the world with the friends I have been lucky to share my life with - but if 26 continues in much the same way 25 did, I think that’ll be just fine, too.

This has been 25 - and tomorrow, I turn 26, and that age ticking upward doesn’t scare me the way it used to - not when life is more than I could have ever imagined it being - and that’s coming from a little girl who had dreams bigger than she could comprehend. 

#its very long as per usual but writing these every year is my favourite form of therapy #in which i ramble #long post for ts #my writing tag #the birthday posts

[thephantomcasebook]

Matt’s “Reasonable” Downton Abbey Movie Sequel Pitch

Since I’ve been known to take extreme flights of fancy ... maybe wedding Downton Abbey continuity to Pulp and Classic Adventure stories in the past ... this time I’m gonna pitch something that is plausible on the Silver Screen.

The Summery:

Set in the Mid-1950′s. Lady Mary Talbot hosts a house party at Downton Abbey, like the old days, before the war. However - during the party - a maid is found dead. Miles from competent investigators, Edward Pelham enlists the help of his childhood hero and older cousin, the Earl of Grantham, George Crawley. Once a famed adventurer and war hero - no one has seen or heard from him since the war ended. He has chosen solitude and exile in the seclusion of Crawley House with his young son and his faithful butler Thomas Barrow. 

Together, with the help of old friends, the two cousins try to unveil the murderer that is on the loose in Downton Abbey looking to avenge an old sin from the past. 

PRINCIPLE RETURNING CAST: 

 Lady Mary, Lady Edith, and Tom Branson -  Michelle Dockery, Laura Carmichael, and Allen Leech 

Lady Rose Aldridge, “Dowager Countess of Sinderby” - Lily James 

Mrs. Lucy Branson - Tuppence Middleton 

Anna Bates - Joanne Froggett  

Thomas Barrow & Richard Ellis - Richard Collier & Max Brown

NEW PRINCIPLE CAST

Captain George “The Comet” Crawley, Earl of Grantham - Henry Cavil  

Crippled during battle while Storming an SS held Austrian Castle in May 1945, George Crawley chose seclusion rather than Downton Abbey. For the last ten years he has retreated from the world. Surrounded by Libraries of ancient texts and Medieval Chronicles - glass cases filled with trophies and artifacts from his adventures -  George broods darkly over the death of his men and a betrayal by the one he loved most in Matthew Crawley’s old chair by the fire..  

However, his young idealistic cousin rouses the once heroic and valiant adventurer back to action with the encouragement of his son Jason Crawley and Thomas Barrow, who believe George has sat idle too long and must become the leader and man of action he once was.

“Well, well, well ... if it isn’t Captain George “The Comet” Crawley himself. The most Dangerous Man in the whole Empire, this one was ... Once. 

“Yes, I dare say, and how are you holding up these days, eh, Old Boy?!” 

“With a cane.” 

Ms. Sybil “Sybbie” Branson - Jessica De Gouw  

A Genius Mechanical Engineer, Sybbie was once the partner and companion of George Crawley on many adventure and stayed by his side throughout the war. However in 1943, during a mission with their SOE Commando Team in Greece, Sybbie Branson turned coat on the Allies and  was revealed to be a Nazi Agent ... Her betrayal caused the unintended death of John “Johnny” Bates Jr. 

Captured in Austrian Castle in May of 1945 at great cost in George’s blood and the lives of his men by her fanatical suitor and body guards, Sybbie was tried at Nuremberg for helping design super weapons for the Nazis. However, just before her execution, at the last moment, she was reprieved and recruited by “Operation Paper Clip” ... some believed sparing her life was the last thing George did before going into seclusion.

Ten years later, Ms. Sybil Darcy splits her time in Hollywood as an Oscar winning actress and a Southern California Military Base where she helps develop rockets for a fledgling American Space Program. It is only by chance that on another guilt ridden drinking binge that she awakens at the doors of Downton Abbey - her childhood home - where her International Playboy fiance was invited to Lady Mary’s House Party.

“When I’m in his arms all I can think of is home, and when I think of home all I can think of is you. I know what I’ve done is evil and can never be forgiven. And I don’t ask for it from you ... all I ask is that you wait for me ... please, don’t leave me here alone. I don’t remember what this world was like without you in it, And all I know is that I cannot live in such a world. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you, and I’ll never stop ... Never.”

Lady Marigold Fraser, “Countess of Tarahill” - Elizabeth Henstridge 

During the “Battle of Britain” and “The Blitz” Corporal Marigold Crawley served as a operator and airwoman in the RAF control room. When George and Sybbie’s squadron was sent to break the Siege of Malta and fight in the North Africa Campaign , Marigold would not be left behind. Thus, she resigned commission and became a War Corespondent for her Mamma and Aunt Laura at “The Sketch” - covering George and his men’s exploits from the ‘safety’ of Sybbie’s mechanic’s hanger. Later, during Sybbie’s arch betrayal, Marigold used her media and diplomatic pass as a Marquess’s step-daughter to rescue a hunted George with the help of local resistance. She went on to cover D-Day, Market Garden, and the Battle of the Bulge while attached to a much darker and violent George and his Commandos, 

Marigold was vaulted as a “Female Pioneer in Journalism”. But falling in Love with a Scottish Colonel in the British Airborne during Market Garden, she chose marriage rather than her career. But 10 years later the call of adventure is stirred in the societal matron’s blood once more upon her reunion with best friend George and a Mystery to solve.    

“Do you ever think of it, George?”

“The war?” 

“Would you think me terrible if I told you that I miss it?” 

“What particularly do you miss about the Ardennes or Arnhem Bridge?”

“It’s not the places, not the snowy woods all bundled tight together in our freezing foxhole under artillery fire, or escaping Holland on rubber rafts in the middle of the night ... I miss our men, I miss ... waking up in the morning and knowing that we were apart of something, that it was you and me, and the old chaps, against the world ... I miss being useful, George. I guess, I’d rather like to feel that way again.”  

Ms. Caroline Talbot - Daisy Ridley 

Beautiful, Spoiled, Clever, Selfish, and Effete, the co-heiress to “Branson & Talbot Motors” has spent her life attempting to get a rise out of her mother. As most desirable of debutantes and Crown Princess of British High Society, Caroline spends her days scheming and contriving against other society girls, of whom she loves to torment. Her nights in nightclubs spent drinking and dancing, waking up in different beds throughout the poshest London Houses. 

 She loathes her mother, and blames Henry’s death on George, whose Spitfire shot down the German Bomber that crashed into Henry and Bertie’s train during “The Battle of Britain”. With George and Sybbie having never gotten along with, or been able to stand, Henry - Caroline believes George plotted her father’s death.

However, her arrogance and anger is dropped only in the presence of her best and only true friend, her cousin Edward. The only person in her unhappy life of whom she knows she truly loves.

“JUST SAY IT, MAMMA! WHY CAN’T YOU SAY IT! Why can’t you just say you didn’t love him! I’m certainly not the first unloved child ever born to a widow looking for a cheap thrill! I guess I owe you enough thanks for at least marrying Daddy!”

“Oh, pipe down, you spoiled little bitch!” 

“Shut up, you Nazi whore! You two ran off to have your little adventures and you never stopped to think, just once, about me!” 

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Here we are again! What could you possibly want more of?! Huh? You got everyone’s attention!” 

“George, leave it!.” 

“No, no more, mom! She got everything I didn’t! She got a mother and father, parents! You left me behind so that you and Henry could start your trendy new fashionable family! You took their side against me! You and Uncle Tom! Just so you can continue to play grab ass with your pathetic little trio! I spent years away from home, Christmases at Aunt Edith’s, all because Henry didn’t want me here! MY OWN HOUSE! And still, after all that, his brat wants more! So, what, Goddamnit!?  What do you want from me, Caroline!?” 

“YOU! I wanted my brother! I loved you and I needed you! And you left me with HER!

Lord Edward Robert Pelham, “Marquess of Hexham” - William Moseley

Upright and just minded, Lord Hexham grew up on the stories of adventure and mystery that his older cousins, George and Sybbie, were famous for. At the death of his father in the war, he looked up to his cousin George as a male role model. 

Thirteen years later, while on break from Oxford - he is not sure what to do with his life. Determined to save his beloved best friend Caroline from a nose dive of alcohol and sex turning into a death spiral, he finds himself at Downton Abbey - a guest of his Aunt Mary - when a murder takes place. But when the Killer leaves a message that it would only be the first. it seems everyone turns to him - as senior peer - for guidance. Unsure what to do, he goes to find his old mentor, George - who has much more experience in this kind of danger and mystery.  

“I don’t know, Marigold ... sometimes I think I’m the wrong man for this job.” 

“Nonsense. In fact, rising above the bias of an older sister and the person who helped raise you, I just happen to think you’re the perfect man for the job.”

“I feel ashamed sometimes. There are lads out there that don’t have two pounds in their hands. And here I am, a Marquess, leaving Oxford, to snuggle up to my big sister’s beast, because, I’m frustrated.”

“Well, they are fantastic breasts.” 

“I’m serious ... I just, I keep telling Caroline that there’s more in life. But I feel like it’s all just words. Neither Mummy nor Papa were ever so ambitious. And it’s not that I want more power, how could I? It’s just ... I feel like there’s something out there, waiting for me to get into its shouting distance.”

Jason Matthew Crawley, Lord of Downton - Unknown (I don’t know child actors)

Born in 1944 to an unknown mother of whom George refuses to speak of to anyone. Mary and the rest of the family were shocked and confused to find George return from the war hobbled on a cane and carrying a toddler that was unmistakably his son.  

Ten years later the blue eyed raven curled boy attends the local Downton school, but is often pursued by high ranking academies for his extremely high intellect. But George refuses to entertain sending him away. Spending most days with Mary,Tom, and Edith, the boy is famed around the county for his Holmesian deduction skills ... and aptitude for machinery - which his father refuses to allow him to pursue. Serving as his father and ‘Uncle Edward’s’ assistant while investigating the murder, they find him a much bigger help than they thought possible.

“You listen to me, Cowboy ... cause I’m only going to tell you once. You stay away from Sybbie, do you understand me?”

“I was just saying that she’s beautiful -” 

“Under no circumstance do you go near her or even speak to that woman.”

“But what does a movie star want with me?”

“This conversation is concluded, mind what I say.” 

“But, Pop ... wha -?”

“That’s an order, Cowboy.”

“Ye- yes, Sir.”

#Downton Abbey #Sybbie Branson #George Crawley #Marigold Crawley #Caroline Talbot #Jessica De Gouw #Henry Cavill #Elizabeth Henstridge #William Moseley #Daisy Ridley

[mimixeu]

⟨  AMANDA  ZHOU.    CIS  FEMALE.    SHE  /  HER.  ⟩    though  the  mist  might  prevent  some  from  seeing it,    MEMPHIS    “  MIMI  ”    YIU    is  actually  a  descendant  of    A R E S.    it’s  still  a  question  of  whether  or  not  the    TWENTY - FIVE    year  old    EAST  ASIAN  STUDIES  MAJOR    from    SEATTLE,    WASHINGTON    has  taken  after  their  godly  parent  completely,    but  the  demigod  is  still  known  to  be  quite    OBSERVANT    &    SELF - SABOTAGING.

                  +    DOSSIER.      +    PINTEREST.      +    PLAYLIST.

PERSONALITY.

most  people  find  mimi  to  be  quite  unassuming  at  first  glance.    from  a  distance,    she  is  twinkling  eyes  and  a  pearly - white  smile,    fun  to  be  around  and  ever  so  easy  to  talk  to  ;  but  the  closer  one  tries  to  get  to  her,    the  farther  away  she  runs.    you  see,    she  is  used  to  getting  hurt,    and  her  powers  being  at  the  heart  of  it  all.    with  time,    she  has  learned  the  art  of  self - preservation,    and  has  sworn  to  never  let  anybody  get  too  close  to  her    ⸺    lest  they  end  up  turning  on  her,    too.    it’s  this  self - preservation  that  has  made  her  exceptionally  good  at  observing  people,    figuring  them  out,    learning  their  secrets.    she  knows  more  about  other  people  than  they  ever  do  her.

          it’s  no  surprise,    therefore,    that  envy  is  an  emotion  that  comes  exceptionally  easy  to  her,    often  greeting  her  like  an  old  friend.    seeing  large  groups  of  friends  around  campus  often  makes  mimi  yearn  for  more,    for  uncomplicated  companionship  and  untainted  relationships,    but  she  knows  it’s  far  safer  to  keep  the  world  at  arm’s  length.    it  doesn’t  mean  that  she  doesn’t  long  to  be  loved  and  wanted  by  her  peers.    the  same  goes  for  her  romantic  life.    she  has  never  fallen  in  love,    never  had  a  relationship  last  long  enough  for  her  to  become  attached.    she  prefers  serial  dating  to  long - term  relationships  because  it  means  she  has  control,    but  mimi  romanticises  the  idea  of  something  more  stable,    one  unaffected  by  her  fears  of  rejection.

          despite  her  self - sabotaging  ways,    mimi  is  known  to  be  very  loyal  towards  the  people  she  does  keep,    of  those  who  have  outlasted  the  fragile  fury  and  rocky  turbulence.    (    after  all,    if  they  are  to  be  in  her  life,    then  she  might  as  well  protect  them  with  her  entire  being.    )    she  is  also  relatively  good - humoured  and  likes  having  a  laugh,    takes  pleasure  in  making  people  smile.    it  is  a  smile  that  hides  her  resentment  for  ares,    as  she  firmly  believes  that  she  could  have  had  something  resembling  a  normal  life,    even  vaguely,    if  it  were  not  for  her  relation  to  him.    unlike  some  of  her  peers,    she  does  not  hold  her  godly  parent  to  high  regard.

FACTS.

the  maternal  side  of  mimi’s  family  hails  from  the  island  of  hong  kong,    just  off  of  china.    back  in  the  seventies,    when  mimi’s  mother,    jingfei,    was  still  just  a  child,    they  immigrated  to  the  united  states  where  they  first  lived  in  augusta,  ga,    before  settling  in  seattle,    wa,    where  mimi’s  uncle  was  born.

mimi  is  fluent  in  english  and  greek,    as  well  as  cantonese  as  mandarin,    as  she  was  taught  to  speak  both  languages  from  a  young  age.    of  the  two,    she  prefers  to  speak  cantonese.

in  her  early  years,    mimi’s  mother  was  an  air  hostess  who  frequently  travelled  for  her  job.    this  was  how  she  met  ares.    she  had  no  plans  to  quit  her  job,    not  even  when  she  learned  that  she  was  pregnant  with  what  would  become  their  daughter,    and  continued  to  work  through  her  pregnancy  for  as  long  as  it  was  allowed.    for  the  formative  years of  mimi’s  life,    she  was  essentially  raised  by  her  grandparents,    only  seeing  her  mother  when  she  was  able  to  take  leave.

as  a  teenager,    mimi  found  herself  as  camp  elektra  in  silverlake,    ca,    and  it  was  the  only  place  she  felt  like  she  could  fit  in  for  the  longest  time.

she’s  been  a  student  at  eonia  university  for  five  years,    and  has  bounced  between  several  majors.    currently,    she  is  majoring  in  east  asian  studies,    but  she  has  also  studied  architecture  and  marine  biology  in  the  past.

stable  relationship    ?    never  heard  of  her.    due  to  her  abilities,    mimi  doesn’t  have  very  many  close  friends.    she  won’t  allow  it.    instead,    she  prefers  to  keep  many  acquaintances,    and  probably  knows  at  least  one  person  in  every  course  /  house.    she  is  very  good  at  remembering  faces  and  learning  names.    even  if  she  doesn’t  have  a  lot  of  people  she  considers  to  be  friends,    she  still  very  much  likes  to  make  an  effort.

mimi  met  her  father  once.    he  appeared  at  the  gates  of  camp  elektra  and  was  immediately  charged  into  by  his  fourteen - year - old  daughter.    in  front  of  a  crowd  of  young  demigods,    she  created  a  scene,    demanding  answers  from  ares,    questioning  him  of  her  existence  and  his  motivations.    it  was  a  rage  like  she  had  never  felt  before.    she  told  him  she  hated  him,    and  though  she  was  told  off  for  disrespecting  one  of  the  gods,    she  thinks  he  knows  she  means  it.

POWERS.

limited  necromancy    :    she  remembers  seeing  ghosts  as  a  kid.    sometimes  they  had  faces,    but  more  often  than  not,    they  were  blurred  figures    ⸺    like  silhouettes  behind  a  glass  pane.    they  never  stayed  for  long,    but  sometimes  they  would  come  to  her,    whispering  enticing  words  and  asking  for  her  help.    every  adult  she  ever  told  dismissed  them  as  creations  from  an  overactive  child’s  mind  rather  than  spirits  that  genuinely  existed.    it’s  not  an  ability  she’s  particularly  hone,    and  over  the  years  it  appears  to  have  waned  significantly,    but  mimi  still  sees  them  sometimes,    in  the  dead  of  night  when  no  one  is  watching.    she’ll  glance  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  and  perhaps  a  blurred  figure  smiles  at  her  through  the  dark.

odikinesis    :    from  a  young  age,    people  have  always  acted  peculiarly  around  her.    teachers  would  be  impatient  for  no  reason,    often  picking  on  her  when  she  was  late  or  forgot  her  homework,    and  even  friends  and  family  members  had  a  habit  of  becoming  noticeably  more  irritable  in  her  presence.    mimi  never  understood  why.    whatever  she  did  to  make  it  up  to  them,    it  only  seemed  to  make  matters  worse.    as  a  child,    it  wasn’t  something  she  necessarily  intended  to  happen,    and  she  slowly  learned  that  if  she  concentrated  hard  enough,    then  it  didn’t  have  to  happen  at  all.    but  more  recently,    she’s  also  realised  that  as  much  as  she  can  put  out  the  coals,    she  is  capable  of  fanning  the  flames,    too.    it’s  become  a  habit  of  hers    ⸺    in  moments  of  pent - up  rage  or  insecurity    ⸺    to  find  people  in  varying  states  of  anger  and  agitation  and  turn  the  volume  up  to  one  hundred.    she  knows  what  she’s  doing  is  wrong,    and  it  always  leaves  her  with  an  overbearing  amount  of  remorse  when  all  is  over.    she’s  lost  plenty  of  friends  as  a  result,    and  always  vows  to  learn  from  it  but  never  does.

other  abilities  :

sonic  scream    :    it  happened  only  once,    when  she  was  a  toddler.    for  hours,    young  mimi  wouldn’t  stop  crying.    she  was  passed  from  relative  to  relative,    each  attempting  to  soothe  and  comfort  her,    but  by  hour  three,    it  was  clear  her  tears  were  not  going  to  relent.    then  it  happened    ⸺    the  tot  let  out  a  terrific  wail.    it  shattered  the  windows,    cracked  the  mirror  down  the  hall.    then  all  at  once,    it  was  over,    the  crying,    the  screaming    ⸺    all  of  it  was  gone.    her  entire  family  was  left  stunned.

telumkinesis    :    while  the  ability  can  be  useful,    it’s  not  one  mimi  chooses  to  use  on  a  regular  basis.    although  she  may  incite  the  occasional  brawl  and  spars  along  with  her  brothers  and  sisters,    she  rarely  involves  herself  in  the  chaos,    thus  she’s  never  found  much  need  for  weapons  outside  of  training.

OUT OF CHARACTER.

hellooooo    !!!!!!!!    I’m  nixie,    24+,    she  /  her pronouns,    from  the  gmt  timezone.    I  heard  about  this  group  from  my  lovely  friend,    who’d  been  hyping  it  up.    I’ve  been  considering  rejoining  groups  for  a  while  since  my  indie  blogs  have  been  stressing  me  tf  out  lately,    so  I  decided  to  join  on  a  whim  and  now  I  am  here  to  bring  you  my  misfortunate  chaos  baby,    mimi  yiu,    who  never  asked  for  any  of  this  but  lost  her  ticket  out  ✌🏼  I’m  SUPER  excited  to  start  writing  with  you  guys    !    feel  free  to  look  through  any  of  the  links  listed  in  this  post  or  on  my  page    !

#euintro #𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟 ♡ intro. #I wanted to repost this with the new graphic 🥰 #also #she has a full doc now and !!!

[sage-nebula]

So since you're taking fandom asks uhhhh do you have any more thoughts/ideas about your pokemon fantasy au? Specifically about Alan? I just love him and that au a lot<3

Just so you know, I am always taking fandom asks. I might not answer them right away because I haven’t spent as much time on tumblr ever since I got my new job last year (because tumblr is blocked there for being a “video sharing site,” hilarious though that is), but I love talking about fandoms and am always down to take questions about them.

That said, I sure do!

I don’t know how much of this I’ve shared here before, and if I repeat anything you already know then my bad, but what I have so far is:

— Alan hails from the Kingdom of Kalos, and is one of the Keepers of the Spirit of a Mythical Pokémon — in his case, Keldeo.

— And on that note, before we proceed further, that is a change I made. I originally had him as the Keeper of Victini, but I decided to change it to Keldeo because even though Victini is my favorite mythical and fire-type suits him more than water-type, Keldeo fits Alan to a T. Orphaned at a young age but happily adopted, determination to become stronger, so determined it has a resolute form, and Alan’s leitmotif in The Strongest Mega Evolution / XY&Z is actually sampled from Keldeo’s theme from its movie, “The Legend of the Sacred Swordsman”. Everything fits. So in conclusion, the boy is the Keeper of Keldeo, I don’t make the rules. I mean, I do, but my hands are pretty tied on this one. Moving on . . . 

— Soon after his birth, one of King Lysandre’s mages, Xerosic, identified infant Alan as the Keeper of Keldeo. Highly motivated to bring as many Keepers into his service as he could (and raising one from infancy to be loyal to him was the best situation he could ask for), Lysandre sent his knights along with Xerosic to obtain the child and bring him back. Lysandre’s knights did find baby Alan and his parents living in a remote town, but unlike in canon, Alan’s parents were not willing to hand their baby over to the king and a fight broke out. Alan’s mother’s family’s guards fought against the knights, and ultimately, were unsuccessful. Many of the guards and pretty much all of Alan’s family, his parents included, were slain. But somehow, Alan himself was lost in the battle. Lysandre’s knights searched through all corpses and burnt wreckage, but they couldn’t find the infant anywhere. Assuming him to have died and his body too mangled to identify, they reluctantly returned to the castle to deliver the news.

— In reality, what actually happened is that Alan’s mother, knowing that the battle was going to be lost and not wanting her son raised by the king, did what any panicked and terrified mother would do and put her son in a sling around the neck and shoulders of one of the family’s Charizard and sent the dragon away with baby Alan and the Charizard’s own baby Charmander (who, incidentally, hatched from his egg the very same day Alan was born). The Charizard was offended — she felt she should get to stay and fight — but ultimately the safety of the babies won out (particularly since, like any other pokémon, the Charizard could sense the Spirit of Keldeo within baby Alan and knew that he was someone to be protected) and so she took off with both human infant and Charizard baby in tow.

— And so, for the next few years, Alan was raised by a Charizard in the mountains, an absolute feral child. He didn’t know how to speak human language, nor did he know how to speak Charmander / Charizard (he made growls and similar sounds, but that’s not the same as language), though he could communicate with them well enough. Mama Charizard made sure that Alan stayed fed, fed him curing berries when he got sick (which didn’t work as well as they did for pokémon, but she tried), and he grew up with her baby as his brother. The two often wrestled and play-sparred, which resulted in quite a few injuries for Alan at first as the Charmander didn’t quite realize that Alan’s human skin wasn’t as tough as a fellow Charmander’s scales, but the two bonded exceedingly quickly and would remain inseparable for the rest of their lives.

— However, as mentioned, this only lasted for a few years. Neither King Lysandre nor Xerosic truly believed that Alan had perished in that battle, and so Xerosic had continued scrying for him ever since while Lysandre sent out search parties to the mountains. Every time they got near, Mama Charizard took both her babies and flew to another remote location, deeper and deeper into the mountains. It was deep in a cavernous ravine that tragedy struck; an earthquake triggered by Lysandre’s knights battling wild Tyranitar caused a rockslide, and though Mama Charizard managed to get her sons out of the way, she didn’t manage to escape herself. Boulders too heavy for her to move and at too awkward a position for her to melt pinned her to the ground. Her wings were crushed; she wouldn’t be able to properly defend her babies if danger came.

— Fortunately, danger did not come, but help did. A powerful sage named Olympia foresaw this tragedy, and though she knew that she couldn’t do anything to interfere with it happening because that would put the future too far off course, she could prevent it from getting any worse. She arrived soon after the tragedy struck, and though Mama Charizard was at first very defensive against her (believing her to be one of the humans out to hurt her human son), Olympia was able to convince her that she was there to help. Olympia’s psychic pokémon moved the boulders pinning Mama Charizard, freeing her so that she could move again . . . but only in limited capacity, given the breaks and tears in her wings. It was then that Olympia told Mama Charizard that she could take her and her babies to someone who would keep all three of them safe. Still wary, but with no other options, Mama Charizard relented. 

— It was a long journey, given that Mama Charizard could not fly and would not consent to a pokéball, but eventually Olympia moved all three safely to a quiet village — and, more specifically, to the home of an alchemist named Augustine Sycamore. Sycamore was, of course, pretty shocked to see Olympia show up with a severely wounded Charizard, a toddler Charmander, and a feral human toddler in tow, but after Olympia explained the situation (Mama Charizard was too injured to survive in the wild anymore, the toddlers wouldn’t survive on their own either, the human boy should probably become civilized and was also the Keeper of Keldeo and needed to be protected by a trustworthy guardian), Sycamore agreed to take them all in.

— As an alchemist rather than a monster trainer, Sycamore didn’t exactly have the qualifications to care for injured dragons. Despite this, he had a very spacious plot of land that he had inherited from his family, and as such Mama Charizard had more than enough room to recover, even if she would never be able to leave again due to her injured wings. Additionally, Sycamore made sure she knew that he wasn’t intending to take her babies from her, although in the eyes of the law he was adopting the human boy, but that didn’t mean he would prevent Mama Charizard from being part of his life. (Also, Mama Charizard could not fly, but she could still melt boulders, so Sycamore wasn’t going to push his luck on that one.)

— That said, if he was going to be adopted by a human parent, the feral child did need a name, and calling him “Keeper of Keldeo” would do the exact opposite of what Olympia said needed to be done to ensure his secrecy and safety. As such, Sycamore named him “Alan”, and set about teaching him how to do things like read, write, speak, and otherwise live in human society.

— When it came to being civilized, three-year-old Alan did not go quietly into the good night.

— For starters, he hated clothing. He’d never worn clothing before in his memory before Olympia found him and yanked things over his legs and tugged something over his head, and he’d been just fine. He didn’t understand why Olympia or Sycamore wanted to put him in clothes all the time and thus took them off at every opportunity. He also pitched a fit every single night he had to sleep indoors in a bed versus outside with his mother and brother. Eventually a compromise was made that both Alan and the Charmander would sleep indoors in the bed, but even then, Sycamore woke up no few mornings to find them both outside with Mama Charizard again. (And Mama Charizard was of no help in this department; if nothing else, she looked Smug when Sycamore saw the boys curled up against her chest beneath her wing.) Additionally, for the longest time Sycamore thought he was making no progress teaching Alan human language; he went over books with him every single day, but still Alan wouldn’t say a single word to him, with his only vocalizations being growls instead. It wasn’t until a full six months had passed before Alan looked at Sycamore one day and said, “Why don’t you call my brother anything?”

Sycamore stared at him for a long moment before he sputtered, “You can talk?”

“Yes.” Alan’s glare was unwavering. “Why doesn’t my brother have a name?”

Sycamore didn’t know whether to be elated the lessons had worked, bewildered why it took Alan so long to show that the lessons had worked, or a bit defensive at being so suddenly interrogated.

— Eventually, Sycamore told Alan that he and the Charmander should work out a name for said Charmander together, along with Mama Charizard’s input perhaps, and the name the two eventually came back with was Lizardon.

— Although Alan put up a stubborn fight pretty much every step of the way, by the time he was five he’d mostly acclimated to living like a human, and by the time he was six he took an active interest in Sycamore’s alchemic studies. By age seven he was helping with some of the experiments, and by age nine he considered himself Sycamore’s apprentice and hoped to one day become an alchemist himself. In other words, though it took time, the two bonded and came to love each other as father and son, and Alan came to be quite embarrassed about all the times he bit Sycamore when they first met. (It was quite a bit. He really didn’t like that whole “wearing clothes” thing.)

— As for Mama Charizard, she too gradually warmed up to letting Sycamore co-parent the boys. She also came to fall in love with Sycamore’s Garchomp, Gabrielle, so soon Alan and Lizardon basically had two moms and a dad. All in all, things were going quite well for them.

— And then, as it always does . . . misfortune, steered by destiny, came knocking.

— All these years, Xerosic never stopped searching for the Keeper of Keldeo, and by the time Alan was 13, Xerosic finally found him. This time, Lysandre took a more measured approach to things; at age 13, Alan would not be as malleable as he would have been had Lysandre been able to take him as an infant. If Lysandre had his soldiers abduct Alan now, no doubt he would put up a fight, and the Spirit of Keldeo was one of Determination. If the Keeper wanted to leave, he would leave. Lysandre had to find a way to make him want to stay. As such, he decided to stage a danger that would convince Alan that he needed to join Lysandre’s knights. Once he did that, everything would fall into place.

— So Lysandre sent his spies, led by Malva, to gather recon. They returned with intel that Alan was being raised by an alchemist and aspired to become one himself. They reported that he seemed very attached to his family and his home, and that it would be unlikely that he’d want to leave . . . but that there was a high probability he’d want to protect his family and his home. As a result, Lysandre staged things in three parts:

1.) He and his knights visited the village so that they could “check in” to see if there was anything they could do to enrich the lives of the people there. When Lysandre spotted Alan in the crowd, he made particular note to introduce himself to the boy, and make a comment about how perhaps Alan would like to join the knights one day, to help protect the kingdom. With Sycamore’s hand on his shoulder, Alan replied that he wanted to be an alchemist. Lysandre smiled and said, “Well, you never know what the future will hold.”

2.) A few days after that, he staged a disaster; I don’t have a clear idea in mind for what the disaster was at the moment, but it was something that put Sycamore, Mama Charizard, Gabrielle, and others in danger. Alan and Lizardon did their best to defend but they didn’t have training to do very much. I think Lysandre probably staged this so that it looked like an attack from one of the neighboring nations (perhaps the Kingdom of Galar) to make it extra clear why it would be wise for Alan to join the knights to protect his family and his home.

3.) A few days after that, Lysandre and the knights visited again to help the village recover from the attack. He also, while there, once again suggested that Alan could learn to defend against attacks like these if he joined the knights.

— And that was all it took. Alan didn’t want to leave home, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of anything terrible happening to his family. So he asked Sycamore if he could join the knights—pleaded, even. Sycamore didn’t want to say yes for multiple reasons, the warning Olympia had given him about Alan being a Keeper and thus needing to be kept away from those who might use him in mind—but he could also tell by the fire in Alan’s eyes that he was not really going to take “no” for an answer, and so he relented on the condition that Alan write weekly letters. Alan agreed without hesitation. Mama Charizard, meanwhile, had no use for letters, but she agreed only so long as Lizardon went with Alan, because she believed them stronger together. Of course, neither Alan nor Lizardon had a problem with this, and as such they both left with Lysandre that afternoon. Just as planned.

— Things changed for both of them pretty quickly once they got back to the castle. For one, Lysandre forced Alan and Lizardon to begin using a pokéball, as was kingdom law. For another, while Alan was technically a squire like any other beginning knight, he was also much younger than the rest and thus would receive personal lessons from Lysandre himself in order to get him where he needed to be in terms of strength and training. Alan had no qualms about this, of course; he wanted to get as strong as he could as fast as he could.

— The first bit of training they went through was Alan testing out different weapons to see which one he was best suited to using. In honesty, he had aptitude for multiple; his sharp eyesight made him proficient with a bow, and he wasn’t half bad with a sword and shield. Ultimately he chose to specialize in polearm, though he would still practice with sword and bow semi-regularly in the years to follow.

— Other forms of training included Alan sparring with Lysandre himself (which especially in the early years consisted mostly of Lysandre kicking Alan around the training grounds), and melee matches with other knights and their pokémon. It was in one of these matches that Alan was seriously injured; Lizardon, a Charmeleon now, let out a startled cry as one of the knights hit him with the blunt end of an axe and knocked him to the ground. Distracted, Alan rushed to Lizardon’s aid, only to be hit by Lysandre’s Pyroar from his blind spot. Pyroar’s claws raked down the side of Alan’s face, blood everywhere, and the training session was halted. Lysandre scolded Alan, telling him this was what happened when he got distracted in battle, before he sent him off to the infirmary for treatment. The wounds healed, but scars remained down his cheek from then on.

— For what it’s worth, Alan did write weekly letters back home. But after a year of never receiving a response he stopped, figuring that Sycamore must be too upset with him for leaving in the first place to want to write back. In truth, Sycamore never received those letters. Lysandre ensured that they were never sent.

— Ultimately, harsh and cruel though it was, the training paid off. By the time he was fifteen Alan could best most of the other knights in combat, including the generals, earning him the rank of General himself (as well as Lysandre’s top General, though that was due to his nature as a Keeper in all honesty; Lysandre wanted to keep him on a short leash). This, naturally, made him very unpopular with the other knights, who felt he was an upstart who didn’t deserve such a high rank, but Alan didn’t join the knights to make friends and so he mostly ignored their scorn.

— While he had standard armor at first, Lysandre’s training fast-tracked Lizardon’s evolution, as well as his and Alan’s ability to Mega Evolve. Charizard scales shed naturally, and by the time Alan was 17 enough scales were collected from Charizard’s mega evolved form that they were able to forge custom armor from them. This armor, naturally, was fireproof, and his ability to withstand flames—along with the Spirit of Keldeo giving him unnatural determination that allows him to keep fighting even after sustaining what should be life-threatening injuries, that fire inside him only burning out once the battle is through—earned him a fearsome reputation. Being sighted standing engulfed in flames, his refusal to go down . . . both of these earned him a reputation as a “demon knight.”

— Once Lizardon evolved into Charizard, he became Alan’s sole sparring partner. Unlike the play wrestling of their youth, Alan and Lizardon’s sparring was much more skilled now, with Alan using his polearm and Lizardon deftly avoiding strikes while trying to pin Alan to the ground. So far, Lizardon has ultimately won every spar, successfully pinning Alan to the ground and drenching his face with kisses. These moments are pretty much the only time Alan really laughs after joining the knights.

— At the time the story kicks off, Alan is Lysandre’s top general and he does not know that he is the Keeper of Keldeo. He is also completely unaware of Lysandre’s sinister machinations and aims. Sycamore is incredibly worried about him and has been ever since he went to the castle never to be heard from again, and has been making contacts across the kingdom to get as much information as he can. (He has tried to seek out Olympia for her console, but her whereabouts are unknown.) Lastly, Alan ends up saving a young aspiring bard named Manon when she’s attacked by brigands, and she immediately attaches herself to him, deciding that he is the perfect inspiration for her ballads and stories, no matter how many times Alan stresses to her that he is King Lysandre’s top general and he goes into battle a lot and she will get hurt and die if she continues to follow him. 

“If you’re a general, then where’s your platoon?” 

“I don’t have one.”

“Then how’re you a general?”

“It’s just a title. A rank. I’m different from the others.”

“And that’s why you’ll be great epic poem material!”

“[long suffering sigh]”

Eventually, Alan will learn the truth about the king’s intentions, but whether he learns the truth in time or not . . . that remains to be seen.

#pokemon fantasy au #champion alan #the bond that overcomes reason #stay tuned for Sycamore's upcoming book ''How to Co-Parent With a Charizard'' #guaranteed to be 1 on the Kalos Best Sellers list #Anonymous #also - Broke: Killing Mama Charizard so Sycamore can adopt Alan #Woke: Keeping Mama Charizard alive & having her co-parent with Sycamore & giving her a Garchomp Wife #in this house we don't fridge (important) moms and also Love Wins

[killiansprincss]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Neal Nolan, Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Alexandra (Once Upon a Time), Phillip II (Once Upon a Time), Original Female Character(s), Robin | Margot Additional Tags: Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Curses, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emma Grows Up Happy, Evil Queen curses Emma, season 6 AU, Angst, Magic, Hurt, Canon Divergence Chapters 1|2|3|4|5| okay here is chapter 6 of my Neverland fanfic! I hope you enjoy please leave me a comment on A03 I’d really appreciate it!

I also have a collage for my story below, ignore the badly photoshopped Alex Pettyfer as Neal Nolan! 

Emma woke up on the morning of her 28th birthday and she felt like she had a hangover even though she hadn't been drinking. In fact, it was worse than a hangover because she had woken up with 2 lives inside of her head.

But it wasn’t like in New York, because that life was based on a lie and false memories, she actually had lived 2 lives. One as a daughter, a sister, a friend, and another as. Well, as an orphan.

Henry, and Killian. The two missing mystery men. No wonder she was dreaming of those two the most, as she had no clue where they were. The two most important men in her life and she was clueless as to where to begin looking for them. Hopefully, her parents would have the answers.

Her house. With the white picket fence, with a view of the water.

The two people missing from it were the ones who chose it.

How could this have happened? Things were going so well, the three of them were finally starting to be a family when the Queen ripped that away from them. She searches in her jewellery box that she’s looked through every day, hoping the one thing she wants is in there. Necklaces and bracelets and rings she’s received from her parents and friends over the years. It’s not there she thinks to herself.

But then, at the bottom of the pile, it's there. Liam’s ring, the one Killian gave her back in Camelot all those years ago. She takes the silver ring on the chain and feels a sense of relief as she puts it over her head. She was going to find them, and bring them home.

The drive to her parents’ house, despite it only being less than a 5-minute drive, felt like a lifetime. She kept going over in her head(s) what was happening right now, she was meant to be celebrating her birthday with her parents and younger brother, the way they do every year, but now she was finding it strange that she had a family to do this. She was an orphan who found her family at 28, but she wasn’t really an orphan now. Or was she?

She knocks on the door to her parents house, expecting a huge Happy Birthday banner and for them to sing, but instead her father has the sorrowful look in his eyes when he opens the door. There’s no ‘Happy Birthday’ because he obviously knew what was coming.

“I remember,” is all she says as she just starts to cry.

The old Emma, the orphan would never cry, especially in front of her parents, but the girl who grew up with a family cried over the stupidest things

“Come in, we'll talk all about it.” David says putting his arm around her leading her inside.

Wiping her tears away she asks, “what happened?”

David and Snow look at one another trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation. “The Evil Queen, she said turning you into a toddler was the best way to get to each of us.” They begin to explain, going through all the details of how they eventually captured the Queen using squid Ink and how Regina has sacrificed herself to save everyone.

“Wh-what about Henry and Killian?” Emma asks when they’ve finished.

Snow takes a deep breath before saying, “we don’t know. When it happened they ran off to another realm we think, we haven’t heard from them since it happened.”

Emma looks like she could be sick, or faint, or both.

Seeing her face David quickly adds, “they’re safe though don’t worry. We believe Gold had a hand in wherever they escaped to, we can go ask him.”

“No-“ she cuts them off, “I’ll go. Just me. Henry’s my son and I have no idea where he is, I haven’t been his mother for 25 years.”

“Emma, you didn’t have a choice. He forgives you for putting him up for adoption, of course he’ll forgive you for not being there when you were under a curse.” Snow tells her, caught off guard by her sudden attitude-the Emma she raised would never do something this important alone. She was going to have to get used to the fact that the Emma she didn’t raise was seeping back in, the one who liked to work alone. The Orphan.

“Before you go beat up Gold to find out where Henry is,” David says, giving her a large rectangular box, “I thought you might want this.”

Emma takes the box, and slowly opens it to reveal her red leather jacket. Her armour. She hasn’t needed her armour growing up with a family, but now…

She took off her armour when she realised she wanted a future with Killian. But now, she didn’t know if there was a future with him.

_______

She decides to walk to Golds shop. Feeling slightly betrayed by everyone she needs the fresh air. That is until she bumps into her best friend Alex.

“Happy Birthday Emma!” She screams and hugs as she sees her. “I know it’s only a Tuesday but I was thinking tonight we can go drinking at the Rabbit Hole, like I’m working there until 8 and then I have tomorrow off,” she starts babbling, Emma feels so mean but all she can think about is Henry and getting him back.

“I can’t, I need to find my son. I need to find him I don’t know.” She starts to ramble, she knows Alex won’t understand, but she can’t think straight.

Alex looks perplexed, “I’m confused, you don’t have a son? Emma are you feeling okay?”

“No!” She cries, “nothing in my life is real, none of this. It’s all lies I don’t.”

Alex takes Emma’s hand, “Em. It’s okay. I’m your best friend, I’ve known you for your whole life, whatever you’re going though I’m here.”

“No that’s the problem, you don’t know me. At all. My life, growing up with you, it’s all based on a lie.” As soon as Emma said it, she knew it came out wrong.

Letting go of her hand Alex replies, “okay well if that’s how you feel then forget it. I was only trying to help. So much for being best friends.” And storms away, hurt by what Emma said.

She tried to call after her, but it was no use. And plus even if she tried to explain what was going on she wouldn’t believe it.

___

Standing outside of the Pawn Shop is strange. She had been inside many times before in her past life, but not once in the past 25 years. She stands outside for a moment debating what to say, but in the end she just storms inside. She sees the dark one inside in all his horrific glory, despite not having aged much he still looks awful.

“Where the hell is my son Gold?” She demands.

“Why Miss Nolan, I didn’t realise you had a son?” Emma rolls her eyes, the typical Dark One avoiding the question at hand.

“Don’t play dumb okay. Henry. Your grandson. Where. Is. He?” She demands again.

He finally looks up from his books. “Ah, has it been 25 years already? Well I believe birthday wishes are in order!”

Emma sighs, this isn’t going to be easy. “Look. My parents told me Henry and Killian made some kind of deal with you after what happened to me. They’re in some other realm or something, I want to know where, and how you can get them back.”

“Well I told them where they could go. Doesn’t mean they’re still there. As for getting them back, I’m afraid you’ll have to do that yourself.” He explains.

“Okay then do something to find them.” She practically yells at him.

“Blood magic can be used to find your son, for your one handed pirate lover I'm afraid there’s no way of finding him.” Emma’s heart sinks, but she knows Henry is the most important person to find right now.

He reaches under the counter to grab something, part of Emma wishes she had her gun but at the same time she knew that wouldn’t work on him, and her parents probably got rid of that a long time ago. It’s the same white atlas-like ball he used to locate Henry when he was kidnapped by Pans' minions.

“Before you do anything, if that’s a locator spell we are using my blood. Forgive me if I don’t trust you, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you do anything.” She tells him.

He nods in understanding. Emma gives her hand over and he and he pricks it on the top of the globe, slowly releasing her finger onto the white globe and the blood rushes around forming different shapes until they finally form one shape and glow.

“What does that mean?” She asks.

He smirks, “why it’s Neverland dearie.”

The pit of Emma’s stomach gurgled, and it wasn’t because she hasn’t eaten anything today.

Neverland.

Where Henry was taken the first time. Also the place where she finally admitted to herself that she felt something for Killian, and where he told her after kissing her he saw himself loving someone again.

It was where she accepted the fact she was an orphan, a lost girl.

“So do you have a magic bean or something?” She asks, ignoring her overwhelming thoughts inside her head.

The Dark one just laughs, “you think if I had an endless supply to magic beans I would still live here?”

Emma just glares at him, “so how do I get there? What happened to the wand you had? It created portals before?”

“That wand was lost a long time ago. As for portals, you and your brother are born of the truest love, your powers are of the strongest light magic. You created a portal once when you went back in time, I’m sure after years of training and love you’ll be able to do it again.” He explains. “Meet me back here later with your family and I’ll show you.”

______

______

Neal Nolan was working as an English Teacher in Storybrooke High. He had grown up with his older sister Emma, who was a year older than him. Or so he thought. Neal had no idea of the news he was about to be hit with about his sister.

Neal knocks on the door to his parents’ house with his gift for his sister. He got her a Granny's gift card and a new brown sheriffs jacket (which his girlfriend Thalia helped him pick out) and expects to see Emma in the goofy birthday hat they have both worn on their birthdays since they were 5, but instead, his dad opens the door and he walks in to find Emma looking through the Storybook almost crying.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

Emma looks at him, almost horrified. “We gotta talk.”

He debates whether to say Happy Birthday or not. He decides against it.

“I have no idea how you’re going to take this news,” Emma begins, “One thing is that you are an uncle.”

Nels eyes widen “You’re pregnant?”

“NO!” Emma shouts “Not, no, definitely not.”

Neal is even more confused.

“You are an uncle, but I’m not pregnant. I was, but I'm not now, or well I was a long time ago” Emma starts rambling and making no sense, Neal is even more confused now-When did Emma have a kid?

“Maybe we should back up a little.” Snow says, seeing her son's confused face.

And so the three of them explain how Emma was put through the magic wardrobe to eventually save everyone. How Emma met Neals namesake and thus Henry was born but given up for adoption. Then all about her journey in Storybrooke and breaking the curse, and all the other journeys and curses up until the one where she was turned into a toddler. And how said son and Emma’s boyfriend ran away to Neverland, a place where nobody grows old.

Looking at the photos of Emma holding her baby brother was slightly concerning considering Emma in the photos looked exactly as she did now, yet Neal was a baby. If he hadn’t just been told Emma’s previous life story, he would’ve sworn they were photoshopped.

“Okay, so what happens now?” Neal asks, worried about the answer.

“You and I have to create a portal to Neverland to save my son and True Love,” Emma tells him as though it’s obvious.

“Wait a second, you and I create a portal, like combine our powers?” Neal asks slightly worried about this, they had never combined their powers before and now they were meant to create a portal, everything that could possibly go wrong was likely to happen.

“I realise it’s crazy, but we have no choice. You just gotta trust me.” Emma knows Neal can never say no when she says this, as his older sister Emma always got him to do what she wanted by saying “trust me”. Despite getting into trouble most of the time when they were younger with the whole trusting Emma, even now as a 26 year old man, he couldn't say no to his sister.

Neal just sighs, “Okay. Let's do this.”

Neal had never stepped inside Mr. Gold's Pawn shop. When he was younger he heard stories of kids sneaking in and touching different items therefore getting cursed with the insane amounts of dark magic in his shop. Now he was older, he knew this was just a story, but it didn’t make him any less nervous to enter his shop, there was an insane amount of light and dark magic inside that freaked him out.

There was something different about Emma, the way she walked and held herself. She was less confident, very aware of her surroundings, normally she was more confident and whilst she was aware people knew her (both as Snow White oldest child, and the current sheriff), she never let this bother her, whereas now, supposedly everyone their parents age would have known her before her curse, people were looking at her wondering if she had broken her curse yet. Even as they enter Mr Gold's shop, which wasn’t actually as scary inside as he pictured, she walked in very determined,

“Okay were here. How do we do this?”

“Patience Miss Nolan.” He tells her.

“Ah and the youngest of the Charming broods I see.” Mr Gold says looking at Neal, who suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. He knew of the things he had done to people, innocent people, in the Enchanted Forest and that made his stomach churn. But his parents (and Emma apparently now too) have trusted him in the past, and Neal guessed so should he.

“Before we make this portal, you don’t do things out of the goodness of whatever heart you have left. What did you ask for in return?” Emma really was not the older sister he grew up with, she was this independent, confident and slightly argumentative woman that looked like his sister, but had a different aura about her.

“For my grandson I was willing to let the poor lad have this without a deal. As for the pirate.” He sneers, Neal was told The Dark One had a colourful history with Hook, and he was seeing this already. “I simply reminded him of the 300 years he spent in Neverland and what, desires, may still lurk.”

Neal had no idea what this meant, and neither did Emma by the looks of it.

“Now, you two are born of the purest true love therefore your powers combined can create some pretty serious magic.” Gold explains, “Now I need the two of you to hold your hands together and believe you are strong enough. You need to think of the portal in your minds, you will feel it when it is ready.”

And so the siblings to just that. They take each other's hands, standing opposite one another and close their eyes. They then take a deep breath and think of a portal in their minds, letting their magic grow and rise above them.

Emma thinks of Henry, and of Killian. She thinks of Neverland in her mind, and when Henry was kidnapped, she thinks of how badly she wanted to get him back and the things she had learnt about herself, about how much she loved Henry. And about how she was feeling something for Hook.

Both siblings can feel the magic, it’s a part of them and it's rushing around their insides like their blood. Gold said they would feel it when the portal was ready, and he was not wrong. It almost splits the two siblings apart, but they hold on to one another until they just know it’s ready.

The two siblings open their eyes and see a door, a green door with black etchings and designs. It's the portal to Neverland.

They're going to save Henry. Again.

_______

The four charming family members step through the beautifully crafted door, the portal to Neverland. They had packed a few bags and Emma was going to see her son (and hopefully true love) for the first time in 25 years. She could be sick.

The greenery of Neverland greets them as they walk through the door, the humidity and vast amount of jungle and sea that they had seen once upon a time. They arrive near the coast, and Emma can’t see the Jolly Roger in the water, but she had to think positively. If Killian was here she would find him. But only after they found Henry.

She looks over at her parents, and they have the same look on their faces. Fear, determination and awoken memories they had shoved into the back of their minds. After all, Emma wasn’t the only person to go through hell in Neverland, her father was poisoned with dreamshade and had planned to spend the rest of eternity here after drinking the rejuvenating waters.

And poor Neal who only found out a few hours ago that she was actually a lot older than him and was cursed, and now he was in Neverland searching for two people he had only met as a baby.

“Let’s head into the jungle then.” Emma says to her family. And so they head off, into the green jungle filled with who knows what. Now Pan was dead, who knows who now ruled Neverland.

It looks the same as it did 30 years ago, but it feels different. The Magic on the Island feels different, she knows this now, by studying magic for years taught her to sense different types of magic and this was some kind of mix of light dark magic. Not as powerful as Dark One Magic, but not the light magic she feels inside herself. Whatever was keeping this Island alive was clearly a type of magic not found in Storybrooke.

They’re walking for probably an hour when Neals plucks up there courage and asks, “Do you recognise anything here?”

Emma wants to ignore him and shut him out, the way she would’ve done before, but he was her brother, “Honestly, no. I thought I would but it all looks the same.”

“I think we should keep walking, I think we’re on a ridge right now and I assume there’s flatland where we can set up camp a little further up.” Their mother cuts in. Snow was a bandit and a runaway for years when her father was killed, so she knows how to scope out new lands and find a place to set up camp, so they don’t question it and sure enough another little while and they find flat land that seems like a good enough place to set up camp.

“Let’s not use magic to set it up though,” Emma tells her brother, “we don’t know what sort of magic is used here, or who now rules this Island and if they can detect magic. It’s just safer to do it the normal way.”

Everyone nods as they begin to set up. Emma is terrified, she has been since she woke up and realised her life was a lie. She had grown up the way she always wished to, with a family, but now she had broken her curse, it didn’t feel right. She abandoned two people she loved, one being her son. The first family she had in 28 years.

They had run away. So heartbroken that they ran from their home. That didn’t make her feel good about herself. Henry has forgiven her for giving him up as a baby, but will he forgive her for this?

“Emma! Emma!”

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by her brother's voice.

“Sorry, I was zoned out.” She tells him.

“Hey it’s okay don’t worry.” He can clearly sense what’s happening in her brain, though he has no idea of the extent. “I know you said no magic, but don’t you think it’s a good idea to put up a protection spell around our camp? To keep out whoever or whatever might attack us.”

Her little brother was brilliant. Though his magical abilities were not as good, lucky for him was not the saviour so his magic wasn't as strong, but what he did know was his magical history and the theory behind magic, much more than Emma did.

“That's actually a really good idea! You can cast it if you want, I’m a little weak after the portal.”  She lies, she’s not weak, she's just scared of using her magic. In her real-or before her cursed life, she didn’t use magic unless it was serious, when she was the Dark One she used it for everything just like in her cursed life.

He believes her lie, why wouldn’t he, she never normally lies to him. He casts the protection spell eagerly, not normally given the chance to do magic.

“We should rest. It’s dark, and we’re not gonna be able to find Henry now. Let’s sleep, and we can figure out our plan in the morning. We also don’t know who or what is in charge of this Island, don’t want to run into them in the middle of the night.” David says to his family, to which they all agree. Emma is exhausted and her dad is right, there’s no point starting now all she knows is he is on the Island somewhere, maybe he’s imprisoned, or worse, enjoying his time on the island where you don’t grow up.

Sharing a tent with Neal when they were kids was a fun adventure, but as two adults, one who was snoring very loudly, it was a very different story. As tired and exhausted as Emma was, or thought she was, she could not sleep. Killian once told her he was never able to sleep in Neverland, as you can hear the cries of the other lost boys and girls.

But you can only hear their cries if you are also a lost one.

Sure Emma had a family, and she grew up surrounded by people who loved her, she had 2 best friends and a little brother. She was the furthest thing from a lost girl. But she was an orphan. For 28 years, she was an orphan who was never wanted, and gave up her child at 17. That part of Emma will never go away.

Giving up on trying to sleep, she gets out of the tent and sits on the log to try and clear her head. If it’s even possible to do that with the cries of lost ones.

She thought about the two men she was here to save. The last time she had seen Henry, it was saying goodbye to him on the school bus, it was a Friday so they planned to have a Star Wars marathon that weekend. Emma had stocked the freezer with Ice Cream especially. Finally Killian would learn and understand their references to Star Wars. She hoped Henry would still be the same smart little kid who questioned everything.

And Killian. God she missed him. He would bring her coffee in the mornings when she had an early start, and when she was on a night shift at the station he would be at home cooking her breakfast. If she hadn’t been cursed, they would’ve been married and had a kid or two by now. They were finally happy, finally without walls, and she had a feeling Killian was going to propose. But of course he never got the chance.

She loses her train of thought when she hears a twig being stepped on. Her impulses kick in and she hides behind the large tree to her left. She hears someone whistling, as if signalling to somebody. She sees him in the distance. A lost boy, around 15, dark hair, like…

“Henry!” She jumps from behind the tree and in front of her son.

He looks startled, obviously because she scared him and also he hasn’t seen her for 25 years. “Mom?”

Emma is smiling so hard right now, “Henry!”

Henry can’t seem to get words out, “m-mom? Is? It’s-you-you’re here?”  

She goes to embrace her son with tears streaming down her face. “I’m here. It’s broken. The curse.”

She pulls back and wipes away her tears.

“Is it really you?” He asks.

Emma looks different to how he remembers her. Her blonde hair is in a french braid, something she only learned to do in this life. Her clothes are nicer, but still donning the red jacket. Henry knows it’s her, but could it really be her?

“It’s me. Henry. It’s really me. I know you love cinnamon on your hot cocoa, and Operation Cobra brought me to Storybrooke and you made me believe in magic in everything.” Emma’s practically sobbing, she didn’t expect to see him so soon.

Henry looks nervous constantly checking his surroundings, “I can’t stay. If you’re truly my mom, then meet me here tomorrow morning when the sun rises over the place they took my heart.”  With one last look he runs away into the darkness of Neverland.

Emma is stunned for a second, confused as to what just happened. Was there someone following him, or did he need to be somewhere?

The place where they took my heart

Dark Hollow . She tried to look around but it was dark, hopefully in the morning she would be able to see the sun rising over it.

Just as she’s pondering over the last minute with Henry, she’s startled by another voice.

“Swan.”

She hasn’t heard that name in 25 years. And there’s only one person who calls her that.

“Killian.”

#Captain swan #Cs Ff #emma swan #Killian jones #emma x killian #emma x hook #fanfic #captain swan fanfic #ouat