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count-alucard-tepes · 9 months

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Killer x fem Lunarian reader! Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Moving to Spinx island wasn’t difficult and Marco helped the transition be a little easier for Y/N since her life would be shifting here before and after she gives birth to her and Killer’s child.

Killer was involved in setting up the nursery down to the the last detail as it was his special project when he was able to come on the island. He wanted it to be perfect for the baby and not anything to stress Y/N about.

Y/N was in the nursery as she folded some of the baby’s clothes and gently put them away in the cupboard, “…I didn’t know you were so good at art”, she said as she watched her beloved put the finishing touches on the wall.

“I like it as a child…and when I have some time I do paint…I even have sketches of you in my quarters on the ship”, he said with a little smile.

“…of me? Why haven’t you ever shown me?”, she asked with a little pout.

“I’d imagine you’d not like them so I kept them to myself”, he said gently.

She walked up to him and nuzzled his neck from behind, “…I think I would love it”.

He turned and gently put his paint as well as his tools down, before rubbing her belly slowly, “…then I will bring it to you when the time comes…but for now, I will sketch you pregnant”.

“With this belly? I can barely stand up without you helping me”, she said as she leaned down to nuzzle his head affectionately as he caressed her belly.

“…you look even more beautiful to me now than you ever did…I wish to capture that too”, he said gently.

She pouted in response, “…fine, but I’m going to do this…I’m going to be naked and then you can do your thing”, she said playfully.

“That’s perfect, I love admiring you even more when you’re naked…let me get my sketching pad”, he said before heading off.

“…wait, Kil! I was joking!”, she said with a huff.

He would sketch her while she was nude and made her laugh the entire time to get her mind off what she was actually doing. He didn’t want her to stay in the same position for too long and would let her rest from time to time.

“…okay, I’m done…want to see it?”, he asked gently as she was busy dressing.

“Of course I do…”, she said before walking over and looked over his shoulder, “…I like it…a lot”. She give him some kisses of appreciation, even though it was all a little embarrassing, it was totally worth it.

He beamed at this, “….I’ll make sure to keep this one private so the crew doesn’t see it”, he said gently.

“Nope, that’s not leaving the house…”, she said with a pout, “…it stays in our bedroom forever”.

He huffed a little as it was one of his favorites of her but she was the boss, “…fine, whatever you say”.

“Good, let’s go have some dinner…I’m hungry”, she said pulling him along with her to the kitchen.

Killer would happily follow his wife into the kitchen.

____________________________________________

Killer had essentially been on paternity leave from the Kidd pirates when Y/N was approaching her due date, he definitely didn’t want to miss the birth of his child.

Marco had been closely monitoring her when she was having a few labor pains during the night, “…looks like we need to induce you today…for your safety and the baby’s”, he said gently.

Y/N looked nervous but it was time to meet their child so nothing could top that. She squeezed her husband’s hand as he kissed her forehead, “…I’m here wit you, pretty lady…you got this”, he whispered.

The nurses helped prep her and Killer stayed close so that he could do whatever he needed to help soothe her.

The birth wasn’t the easiest but it went well and soon the wails of their baby filled the surgery.

Marco wrapped the baby in a blanket and showed the couple, “…congratulations, she’s a girl”, he cooed before handing the baby to Killer.

Tears streamed down his face as he held their daughter close to his chest. He brought her close to Y/N, “…she’s so beautiful just like her mother”, he said gently as he gave the baby some kisses.

Y/N smiled tiredly and stroked the baby’s cheek, “…oh she has your hair..and your eyes…”, she said looking completely in love with their baby.

“You got what you wished for…”, he said with a little chuckle as he placed the baby gently in her arms and quickly the baby began to feed from her, “…we have to think of a name for her”.

Y/N smiled, “…yeah…we can come up with something together later…now I just want to nap”.

He kissed her forehead and gently took the baby, “…go ahead, love…I’ll be right here”. She nodded and slowly drifted off.

Y/N was checked by Marco and the nurses every couple of hours before letting them rest and spend time with the baby.

While Y/N was resting, Killer would video call Kidd to let him know about the baby, “…hold on…step back a little, we can’t see you”, Kidd said as he and the crew eagerly waited to see the baby.

Killer adjusted himself and then held the baby in his arms, “…can you see her now?”, he asked curiously.

Kidd couldn’t help but smile, “…yeah, we can see you both perfectly…let’s be glad she looks like her mom”, he said teasingly, “…Congrats, Kil…you’re officially a dad”.

The crew cheered for him in the background as Killer blushed under his mask and held his daughter close, playing with her fingers, “…thanks, Kidd…Y/N is resting right now so I’m taking care of her “.

“That’s good…you thought of a name for her yet?”, he asked curiously.

“No, we didn’t actually pick any names…we just thought that when we see her we’d be able to think of a name”, Killer said gently.

“…what about the name Maisie?”, he said gently, “It means pearl…one of the most precious things in the ocean”.

Killer gasped at this, “…I like it a lot…I think Y/N would like it too…what do you think, little one? Shall your name be Maisie?”, he asked as he stroked her rosy cheeks, earning a little smile from the baby.

“I think that’s a yes…and don’t forget, uncle Kidd named you!”, Kidd said with a grin.

Killer smiled a little, “…yeah yeah, you can go brag about that now…we’re gonna take a nap, I’ll call you in a few days”.

“…send our congratulations to Y/N…and spend all your time with them”, he said gently before cutting the call.

Killer would take the baby back to Y/N and would place her in cot before cuddling up to his wife and took a nap. It had been an exhausting couple of hours and he needed to rest just a little.

____________________________________________

The next couple of days were rough on the pair as raising a new born wasn’t easy, Killer was doing his best to be there for Y/N while she healed and got a routine going for her and the baby.

Maisie would of course be growing more and more each day.

Killer was playing with his daughter and her toys, “…she doesn’t have wings like yours…does that upset you?”, he asked Y/N out of curiosity.

“…we aren’t always born with wings…sometimes it just grows out later on”, she said gently, “…or so I’ve been told…but even if she doesn’t get wings, it doesn’t matter to me…she’s perfect the way she is”, Y/N said gently as she smiled and sipped her cup of tea as she watched her husband and child play.

Killer secretly wanted his daughter to have wings like his wife! He thought they were so cute and imagined their kid having them too! Maybe they will grow…he hoped!

“…Y/N…now that the baby is born…you are both healthy…do you want to leave this island?”, he asked gently.

Y/N frowned a little, “…I like it here, I like not being at sea too…I’m enjoying being a mother so much that I’ve thought about leaving being a pirate completely…”, she said thoughtfully, “…I feel like there is so much more meaning to life since I fell pregnant…since I’ve met you even”.

He had to admit, he felt the same. Life has changed dramatically for them both since they met and their relationship developed. He couldn’t even remember what it was life before she came into his life.

But leaving being a pirate? Could he truly be satisfied with a life like that?

He knew that it was only a matter of time when being a pirate where your days are numbered…you’re either targeted by other pirates or the marines are after you. Living a long and healthy life and being a pirate is never possible in his eyes.

Now he was a husband and a father…his childish priorities have all changed and he was approaching his 30s. He needed to properly think about this when he goes back to the crew.

Y/N noticed her beloved was deep in thought, “…I don’t expect you to stop being a pirate just because I’ve made that decision for myself…I would still wait for you while you’re at sea and take care of our child regardless”.

He smiled weakly before going to her side and kissed her temple, “…I know you are more than capable of doing that…but you didn’t make Maisie on your own..:I helped there so I am responsible for her and you too…I will never neglect my duties as a husband and a father…”.

Y/N smiled and pressed her forehead against his, “…you’re the best, you know that…”.

“…only since I’ve met you”, he whispered before giving her a little kiss.

((My niece made a drawing for Maisie and Killer…we had a conversation about this fanfic and she was like…what if the baby likes chicken nuggets and they were out… baby Maisie would be crying her eyes out and Killer would be panicking before running to the store to get chicken nuggies for his baby girl🤣))

#ooc #one piece #killer one piece #one piece killer #kidd pirates #killer x reader #Lunarian #fanfics

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hekateanwitchcraft · 4 years

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An Introduction to Worshipping Medeia

As a Hellenic witch, the worship of Medeia is an important part of my practice. She was a witch and priestess of Hekate, possessing nearly unparalleled knowledge of magic and poisons. I wanted to write this post to give some background on who Medeia is, her role as a witch and a priestess, and how I have come to honor her in my practice.

Who is Medeia?

Parentage

Medeia (Μήδεια) is given mainly two parentages, either Aeetes, son of Helios, and Eidyia, daughter of Oceanus, or Hekate and Aeetes. Hesiod offers us a description of the first, writing:

“To the tireless Sun the renowned Oceanid Perseïs bore Circe and King Aeetes. Aeetes, son of the Sun who makes light for mortals, married by the gods’ design another daughter of Oceanus the unending river, fair-cheeked Idyia; and she bore him the trim-ankled Medea, surrendering in intimacy through golden Aphrodite” (Hesiod 31)

Alternatively, Diodorus names Hekate and Aeetes as her parents, explaining:

“Perses had a daughter, Hecate, and she excelled her father in her brazen lawlessness...She was a keen contriver of mixtures of deadly drugs [pharmaka], and she discovered the so-called aconite. She tested the powers of each drug by mixing it into the food given to strangers...After this she married Aeetes and gave birth to two daughters, Circe and Medea, and also a son Aigialeus” (qtd. in Ogden 78)

Either of these parentages could make sense, but I personally observe the first.

(Art: Medea by Frederick Sandys)

Medeia as the Witch Priestess of Hekate

One of Medeia’s most important roles in literature and myth is that she is a priestess of Hekate and a witch, being called “Medea of the many spells” (Apollonius of Rhodes 109). In most literature there is no way to separate these roles.

She was extremely devoted to Hekate, Apollonius of Rhodes stating that “as a rule she did not spend her time at home, but was busy all day in the temple of Hecate, of whom she was priestess” (116). Euripides also writes that Medea says “I swear it by her, my mistress, whom most I honor and have chosen as partner, Hecate, who dwells in the recesses of my hearth” (Euripides 13). Clearly, the relationship between her and Hekate was very close, and it was said on occasion that she even learned magic from Hekate, Herself. Apollonius of Rhodes writes that “[t]here is a girl living in Aeetes’ palace whom the goddess Hecate has taught to handle with extraordinary skill all the magic herbs that grow on dry land or in running water” (123). Diodorus also claims this, but adds an interesting addendum that attributes to the character of Medeia:

“They report that Medea learned all the powers of drugs from her mother [Hekate] and her sister [Kirke], but her own inclination was the opposite. For she continually saved the strangers that put in from dangers” (qtd. in Ogden 79)

(Art: Medea the Sorceress by Valentine Cameron Prinsep)

Regardless of the origins of her powers, they were no doubt incredible. Apollonius of Rhodes explains that “she can put out a raging fire, she can stop rivers as they roar in spate, arrest a star, and check the movement of the sacred moon” (123). In one instance Apollonius states that “the beautiful Medea spell through the palace, and for her the very doors responding to her hasty incantations swung open of their own accord...From there she meant to reach the temple. She knew the road well enough, having often roamed in that direction searching for corpses and noxious roots, as witches do” (148). This is clearly an indicator that her powers are incredible, but what is even more awe-inspiring is what Apollonius says happens next:

“Rising from the distant east, the Lady Moon [Selene], Titanian goddess, saw the girl wandering distraught, and in wicked glee said to herself: ’So I am not the only one to go astray for love, I that burn for beautiful Endymion and seek him in the Latmian cave. How many times, when I was bent on love, have you disorbed me with your incantations, making the night moonless so that you may practice your beloved witchcraft undisturbed!” (148).

Medeia is said to be able to actually banish the moon Herself from the sky, an unimaginable feat. This is indicative of the degree of power she possesses, having sway over nature itself.

She is most known to have used her knowledge and powers repeatedly to help Jason, her husband, on his quest for the Golden Fleece. The first instance of this was that she made Jason an ointment which would make him invincible. Apollonius describes this in length, writing that:

“She had twelve maids, young as herself and all unmarried...She called them now and told them to yoke the mules to her carriage at once, as she wished them to drive to the spending Temple of Hecate; and while they were getting the carriage ready she took a magic ointment form her box. This salve was named after Prometheus. A man had only to smear it on his body, after procreating the only-begotten Maiden [Hekate] with a midnight offering, to become invulnerable by sword or fire” (131-2)

He continues, detailing the ritual of how she obtained the plant she used to make this ointment:

“Medea, clothed in black, in the gloom of night, had drawn off this juice in a Caspian shell after bathing in seven perennial streams and calling seven times on Brimo, nurse of youth, Brimo, night-wanderer of the underworld, Queen of the dead. The dark earth shook and rumbled underneath the Titan root when it was cute, and Prometheus himself groaned in the anguish of his soul” (132).

Here we see a process that is depicted often, the bathing of Medeia and her ritualistic harvesting of herbs. We also see her here call on Brimo (Βριμω), an epithet of Hekate, in Her role as nurse of the young (Kourotrophos/Κουροτρόφος), night-wanderer (Νυκτιπολος/Nyktipolos), of the Underworld (Χθονιη/Kthonia), and Queen of the Dead (Ανασσα ενεροι/Anassa Eneroi), indicating the importance of Hekate to her witchcraft.

(Art: Jason and Medea by John William Waterhouse)

A similar harvesting of herbs and roots is seen in fragments of Sophocles’ play The Root-Cutters. What we have of the play states that “She [Medea] covers her eyes with her hand and collects up the white-clouded juice that drips from the cut in bronze jars...the covered chests conceal the roots, which this woman reaped, naked, with bronze sickles, while crying out and howling” (qtd. in Ogden 83). Hekate is then said to be “crowned with oak branches and snakes” (qtd. in Ogden 83). Then the women chant “Lord of the sun and holy fire [Helios], sword of Hecate of the roads, which she carries over Olympus as she attends and as she traverses the sacred crossroads of the land, crowned with oak and the woven coils of snakes, falling on her shoulders” (qtd. in Ogden 83). In this short but incredible fragment we see that Medeia calls on both Hekate and Helios, her grandfather, to bless their ritual. We also see a repeat of incantations to harvest magical herbs, and an introduction of her association with bronze.

Another one of Medea’s feats was charming the snake that guarded the Golden Fleece into a slumber. In the Argonautica, Apollonius of Rhodes writes:

“The monster in his sheath of horny scares rolled forward his interminable coils, like the eddies of black smoke that spring from smoldering logs...But as he writhed he saw the maiden take her stand, and heard her in sweet voices invoking Sleep [Hypnos], the conqueror of the gods, to charm him. She also called on the night-wandering queen of the world below [Hekate] to countenance her efforts...the giant snake, enchanted by her song, was soon relaxing the whole length of his serrated spine and smoothing out his multitudinous undulations...Yet his grim head still hovered over them and the cruel jaws threatened to snap them up. But Medea, chanting a spell, dipped a fresh sprig of juniper in her brew and sprinkled his eyes with her most potent drugs and as the all-pervading magic scent spread around his head, sleep fell on him.” (150-1).

(Medea and the Dragon by Maxwell Ashby Armfield)

She was also said to have killed the giant Talos, a gift given to Zeus from Hephaistos, with her witchcraft, specifically the Evil Eye. In this more horrifying passage, it is said that:

“[W]ith incantations, she invoked the Sprits of Death [Keres], the swift hounds of Hades who feed on souls and haunt the lower air to pounce on living men. She sank to her knees and called upon them three times in song, three times with spoken prayers. She steeled herself with their malignity and bewitched the eyes of Talos with the evil in her own. She flung at him the full force of her malevolence, and in an ecstasy of rage she plied him with images of death” (Apollonius of Rhodes 192).

In this passage, she calls on the Keres, and with them is able to use the evil eye to bring immediate death to a direct creation of the gods. This is a horrifying feat, not only for the power it must require, but for her ability to kill in an instant.

Finally, she also is said to have rejuvenated Jason’s father Aeson. In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Jason pleads with Medea to take years of his own life to give more to his father, but she rejects him saying that Hekate will not allow such a thing to take place. Instead, she offers that through her witchcraft, instead, if Hekate is willing to help her, she may rejuvenate him. Under the full moon, Medeia performs the ritual. She calls on Hekate, Night, the Moon, and Helios to aid her in her task (126-7). A chariot drawn by dragons appears to her and she takes it to gather herbs harvested with her bronze scythe. After nine days and nights, she returns to Jason to perform the ritual. The ritual is extensive and is essentially repeated in full. She builds two altars, one to Hecate and one to Hebe. She also digs two ditches on sacrifices a black sheep into the ditches, also pouring wine and milk into them. She also calls on the “deities of the earth” which may mean deities of the land or chthonic deities, and Hades. Once she appeases these gods and goddesses, she spells Aeson to sleep on a bed of herbs and tells Jason to leave her to perform her magic. She then dips sticks into pools of blood and lights them with the flames on the altars, then purifying the man once with fire, three times with water, and three times with sulfur.

She then adds many herbs, roots, and flowers to her bronze cauldron as well as “hoar frost gathered under the full moon, the wings of the uncanny screech owl with the flesh as well, and the entrails of a werewolf which has the power of changing its wild-beast features into a man’s. There also in the pot is the scaly skin of a slender Cinyphian water-snake, the liver of a long-lived stag, to which she also adds eggs and the head of a crow nine generations old” (Ovid 129). Then, she slits the throat of Aeson and replaced his blood with her potion, finally rejuvenating him.

There is more descriptions of Medeia’s magical feats throughout literature, but these are simply some of the most detailed and famous. She is clearly a very powerful witch and a significant figure within the history of Hekate worship. With her bronze cauldron and chariot of dragons, she is quite awe-inspiring.

(Art: The Sorceress by R. Willis Maddox)

Medeia’s Character

One of the issues we run into with Medeia’s mythos is her defamation and portrayal as a child-murdering and vengeful woman. She is indeed vengeful against Jason, and rightfully so, for he bade her to leave her homeland, murder her brother, and constantly had her aid him with her witchcraft, only to abandon her for another. However, Euripides’ tale of her brutally murdering her children has some criticisms from scholars who note that there are other versions of the tale.

One such tale is that from Apollodorus who writes that “Another tradition is that on her flight she left behind her children, who were still infants, setting them as suppliants on the altar of Hera of the Height; but the Corinthians removed them and wounded them to death” (1.9.28). In the modern era, a scholar named Sarah Illes Johnston, author of Restless Dead and Hekate Soteira, also writes that Medea prays to Hera Akraia to make her children immortal, and Hera either declines or breaks her promise to fulfill this task, leaving the children to die (62-3). Johnston denies the implication of Medea in her children’s death, instead attributing it to circumstances outside her control or by the hand of another.

These different tellings of Medeia’s story fits with the Colchian princess who aids Jason in a much more believable way than the suddenly spiteful women who murders her children. This variation is less popular, the other being popularized perhaps to demonize magic and women of power.

(Art: Medea by Eve De Morgan)

Worshipping Medeia

Now that Medeia’s character and mythological status has been discussed, I think it’s important to talk about how I actually go about worshipping Medeia. I worship Medeia in both divine and ancestral ways, which I suppose could be attributed to methods of hero worship in Ancient Greece. Worshipping Medeia can be done alongside Hekate and/or Helios, as well as alongside Kirke. If you observe the Mighty Dead or Witch Ancestors, she could also be worshipped alongside them.

Offerings

Offerings for Medeia can include wine, frankincense, milk, honey, food, poisons, sacred plants, bronze artifacts, candles, snake parts or figurines and dragon figurines, artifacts of witchcraft, and even Hekate iconography. One could also offer her blood, but that is up to your personal discretion.

Names and Epithets

Names/epithets I call Medeia include ‘Of the Many Spells,’ ‘Vengeful Maiden,’ ‘Witch Priestess of Hekate,’ ‘Medea of Poisons,’ ’She Who Knows All Herbs,’ ‘Giant-Slayer,’ one that could also be said of Hekate, ‘Princess of Colchis,’ ‘Granddaughter of Helios,’ ’Daughter of Sun and Moon,’ one I use to indicate her relationship to Helios and her devotion to Hekate, and Medea Pharmakeia, or Medeia of Witchcraft/Magic.

Sacred Objects

Sacred plants of Medeia could include any poisons, juniper, olive, and aconite specifically. Sacred animals include dragons and snakes. Bronze is also sacred to Medea, as are cauldrons of any kind.

Specializations

Medeia can be called upon for justice and vengeance, especially for spells of justice and vengeance, witchcraft of any kind, to bless herbs, for gardening, for aid in Hekate worship, for the downfall of your enemies, for protection from harm, for protection from snakes, and for guidance in magic.

Prayers to Medeia

Prayer for Medea’s Aid in Witchcraft

Prayer to Medea for Vengeance

Conclusion

In conclusion, while Medeia may not be a part of the usual canon of hero worship, or worship in general, if you are a devotee of Hekate or Helios, worshipping Medeia might be right for you. Likewise, any witch who observes the Hellenic pantheon should give serious thought to venerating Medeia in their practice.

Works Cited:

Medea by Euripides

Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Ancient Greek and Roman Worlds by Daniel Ogden

The Voyage of Argo by Apollonius of Rhodes

Theogony by Hesiod

The Library by Apollodorus

The Metamorphoses by Ovid

“Corinthian Medea and the Cult of Hera Akraia” by Sarah Illes Johnston

(Art: Medea Casting Spells by Henry Ferguson)

#Medea #Medea worship #hellenic polytheism #hero worship #witchcraft #witch #paganism #Hekate #hecate #hellenic witchcraft #hellenic heroes

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hepalienstuckyrecs · 3 years

Text

Hidden Gems Stucky Fic Rec

Amazing fics with <10k hits

raise the flag by mcwho [M, 1k]

Slice of Life, PWP

Steve had made the mistake of laying on the sofa lengthways, on his stomach, so of course as soon as Bucky walked into the room he was all over that

Heart by @concavepatterns, everandthe [T, 1k]

Fluff, Love Confession, Post CATWS

"You're not my friend, Steve."

softer than whispers by @spacebuck [E, 1.4k]

Fluff, PWP, Table Sex, Rimming

"concept: steve fucking bucky in knee socks bc thighs and long sweaters"

Concept: The sweater hangs down nearly to Bucky’s knees as he walks past the couch Steve’s sprawled on, the hem swaying a little with each step. Steve doesn’t recognise it, realises Bucky must have gone out of his way to get something too big for him, and smiles just a little to himself. Bucky’s oblivious to his presence in the way a content cat is. Steve’s his, so he belongs.

i want it, i got it by bornes [T, 1.5k]

Fluff, Humor

Ten minutes into their impromptu mall adventure, Steve has offered to buy Bucky a designer sofa he had sat on briefly to rest his legs, a $600 headband, and a diamond-encrusted butterfly clip

more under the cut

no grave can hold my body down by @biblionerd07 [G, 1.9k]

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Bucky has died more than once, but he never stays that way. Companion to let me give you my life.

Not the Needle, Nor the Thread by @steebadore [E, 2k]

Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex

Bucky wakes to a noise.

No, Bucky wakes to the noise. It's not the hoarse shout of nightmares born of battlefields and blood that so often tear them both from sleep. No, this is smaller. Bitten off. Choked back. A furtive, strangled keen, nearly silent but pitched at a frequency that would raise Bucky from the dead.

in the morning i’ll be sober and you’ll still be mine by mcwho [T, 2.2k]

Drunken Confessions, Kissing, Light Angst, Team fic

Steve always marveled at how people lost all their inhibitions after they got a little alcohol in them.

And then Thor gets him drunk on Asgardian liquor. Events unfold.

tutorial by @belovedmuerto [T, 2.4k]

Modern AU, High School AU, Practice Kissing, Fluff

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Hurt/Comfort, Soft, Post CATWS

Steve has a crummy mission. Bucky has a crummy dream. They cuddle it out.

hold some dirt with those hands by magdaliny [T, 3k]

Post-IW, Fix-it

It had sent him to his knees.

I Had a Marvelous Time Ruining Everything by fallendarlings (@pressrestartwrites) [T, 3.2k]

War Era, CATFA, POV Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Light Angst

“I’m not worth all that. Not worth your life.”

“You’re worth everything to me.” And there it is, the secret truth. There’s no way to interpret it as anything but what it is. Steve’s heart, held out in his hands. The one that didn’t work right, ugly all over from damage. The one that was Bucky’s first, has always been Bucky’s. They say his new one is perfect, but he knows the truth. Even if they fixed everything else, they can’t fix this. Every inch of his heart, scarred with Bucky’s name. Over and over and over.

(Not Quite) All The Small Things by @leveragehunters [T, 4.1k]

Prewar, Post CATWS, Magical Realism AU, Fluff, Bucky POV

Bucky was used to finding Steve in alleys. Not every day, thank baby Jesus and all the saints or he’d be as grey as Mrs Milligicutty, but often enough.

The thing about Steve in alleys was, it meant finding Steve in fights. Or finding Steve after fights, bloody and bruised, picking gravel and dirt out of his skin, having come off third best in a two-person punch-up. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, it meant finding Steve standing, bruised but unbowed, glaring down some hapless meathead who’d underestimated just how much sheer goddamned never-say-die was packed onto those skinny bones.

That was Steve in alleys. Not this hunched over sack of glare, facing down a mangy orange tom cat that was glaring right back and trying to dart past his legs.

My Kind’s Your Kind by @callmejude [M, 4.1k]

Prewar, Practice Kissing, Smut with Feelings

Steve's beginning to get self-conscious of the fact that he's never been kissed.

let me give you my life by @biblionerd07 [T, 4.3k]

5+1 Things

Five times Steve chose to live when he could have died. Companion to no grave can hold my body down.

To Seek a Nood-er World by jehans (@lafbaguette) [E, 8.2k]

Misunderstandings, Humor, Sexting, Canon Verse, First Time, Idiots in Love

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

TBC (taking care of bucky) series by @steebadore [T, 8.6k]

Domestic, Fluff

It starts, as most things do, with spite. The problem is, it doesn't end there.

Glad to love you, Steve Rogers series by @maddiewritesstucky [E, 9.2k]

Modern AU, Stripper Bucky

Steve’s first thought is that he knows this song.

His second thought is little more than a stream of expletives, as the male embodiment of Fuck Me walks out onto the stage. Although, ‘walk’ seems an entirely inappropriate word…the man struts, stalks, and all at once the frenzied reaction of the crowd makes perfect sense.

If Steve had known this was about to make an entrance, he’d have been screaming for it too.

_____

In which Steve Rogers is promised a night of highly-skilled dance performance, and gets exactly that...just not in the way he expected.

Strange Human Mating Rituals by @liionne, art by velvetjinx [E, 13.7k]

Post CACW, Canon Divergent, Bucky Recovery, Sexting, Fluff

Bucky doesn't have a job. Steve assures Bucky that there's no pressure for him to do anything; Steve's army back pay and his avenging days mean they're taken care of. Bucky's a kept man, and whilst he loves that, he isn't much of a house husband. So he goes out, and that's how it happens. He's sitting on the subway when he sees the magazine, garishly pink with a woman flashing big pearly white teeth on the front cover. He can't help himself. Letting himself do things he wants to do is one of the things the Wakandan healers had taught him, so maybe it's a step in the right direction.

The magazine turns out to be a little less factual than Bucky’s usual reading material, but he loves it. He reads an interview with some actress he's never seen before, then an article on how to get the perfect brows (and he looks up at his reflection in the subway window then to find that his brows are-- what does the magazine say? on fleek already), and then he gets to something interesting.

Sexting 101: What your man really wants to hear

Now that is something Bucky wants to know more about.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stevebucky #stevebucky fic rec #reclist #hidden gems #changed the title because this seems more fitting

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sariahsue · 3 years

Text

Footsteps

Marinette’s about to get married to her soulmate, a man she’s never met before. Too bad she meets that cute groomsman in the hallway first. Rated G. 4,000 words.

***

Marinette bunched the white lace of her train into her fists and walked faster, eyes searching the empty marble hallway. Just keep walking. She could get through today. One foot in front of the other.

All she needed was some fresh air. She thought a building as enormous as this one would have at least one window that she could open. Instead, sunlight streamed through vaulted arches taller than the bakery she'd lived in her whole life, mocking her.

Marinette poked her head around a corner into a side hallway, saw nothing but closed doors, expensive paintings (that couldn't be an actual van Gogh, right?), and a plush white rug, and walked past.

All she needed was a few quick breaths, a little bit of air to cool off her flushed face, and a few minutes away from her hovering family and bridesmaids so she could pull herself together. And then she would get right back.

How big was this building? Each hallway she looked down offered a new way to get lost, with smaller hallways coming off of the side hallways and as many doors as there had been guests and staff just an hour ago. She gripped her train harder. Staff that had disappeared to the banquet hall to set up for the reception. Guests that were nowhere in sight because they were being seated in the chapel right now.

A door snapped shut somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, her heart in her mouth at having been caught, but no one was there. Her eyes traced crystal vases on marble tables only put there to break up the vast space the building contained. Nothing moved. And nothing looked familiar.

Can I even find my way back now?

It was a problem she would have to deal with later. She didn't have the capacity for one more thing to go wrong right now, so she marched forward to continue her quest.

Her heels click-clicked as she walked across the polished floor, and she could have sworn she heard the door closing once again.

The shoes were going to give her away. With shaking fingers, she reached down and unstrapped them. They swung from her hands as she kept going.

Just a few days ago, Marinette had been so excited to finally meet her soulmate and get married. Why had the feeling deserted her today?

She knew the answer. All week it had been building, but now that the day was here, the swirling anxiety that had been simmering below the surface of her joy just couldn't be ignored any longer.

Most people gave themselves a few weeks or at least a few days after meeting their soulmate to get married, but her husband-to-be, Adrien, had insisted on being "traditional." No seeing each other until the wedding. She hadn't even talked to him on the phone yet. They would fall in love at first sight, as she walked down the aisle. If she'd met him before, maybe right now she wouldn't be so-

Marinette bumped into a glass-topped side table, sending the empty crystal vase on top tilting dangerously. Dropping her train, she managed to grab it before anything smashed. She stood there, frozen, listening, waiting to see if anyone would scold her, but no one was around. With a whispered "Sorry!" at the vase, she put it back in its place and kept searching through the maze of hallways.

It must have cost a fortune to rent this humongous mansion for the day. A new worry stuck in her throat. I'm not going to be able to fit in with my husband's family, am I? Adrien would love her completely. That's just how it worked. But what if her in-laws hated her because her parents weren't rich too?

Her panic spiral was halted by the sight of a familiar blue rug pattern in one of the side hallways. Marinette made her way over, window quest forgotten, and she tripped over her dress the whole way there.

The long, white walls were filled with paintings of fruit and flowers, like the ones she used to make in art class (but with lighting skills so good it made her want to cry), and no… she hadn't been down this way before. Even as upset as she was, the artist in her would have remembered.

Marinette took a few seconds too long to glare at an apple, and by the time she heard the whispering, it was far too late for her to hide.

"Sneaking," a male voice whispered.

Marinette turned toward the voice. Had someone seen her? Did someone know she was roaming the building alone? She saw no one. And she saw nowhere she could quickly hide.

A few feet in front of her, the hallway turned a corner and continued out of sight. Some of the hallways had been like that, leading to more corridors and rooms that she hadn't bothered to explore. The footsteps came closer.

"Sneaking around the corner."

If she held very still, maybe he wouldn't notice? She walked backwards and pressed into the white wall, the fabric of her dress rustling loudly with every step, every breath she took.

His shoes squeaked as a hunched figure came into view.

"I'm not sneaking!" Marinette blurted out as soon as she saw him.

He jerked up straight.

She noticed three things instantly. He was blond. He was holding his hands around his eyes, like binoculars or a mask, and he was in the nicest tuxedo she had ever seen.

The man was also quite a bit taller than her, but he still jumped back in alarm when he saw her, and finally lowered his hands. Brilliant green eyes went from shocked to soft and warm and inviting.

"S-sorry," he finally said. "I was the one sneaking around. No worries."

"Oh," Marinette said, heart beating in her throat. "Right. I wasn't sneaking."

He smiled, and Marinette was glad she was already leaning against a wall. He had to be the single most beautiful human being she'd ever met her in life.

"Um, nice to meet you?" he said. When he held out a hand to shake, she quickly took it. His hand was soft and gentle and warm. No ring on either hand that she could see. Gorgeous and single!

Guilt swept through her, making her drop his hand. Here she was, getting married in literally a few minutes and ogling someone else. But he was still smiling at her. No, she had to stop thinking like a single woman. But he was so pretty.

"Of course. So, uh," He looked down at her dress. "You must be the bride, huh? Marinette? Nice to meet you."

Sweat prickled on the back of her neck. Judging by his outfit, she'd just been caught by a member of the groom's wedding party, a groomsman or a family member. Would he tell her future husband that she was out here getting cold feet? Not that it wasn't true, but she didn't want her soulmate to know about it.

"And you are?" she asked, hoping to divert attention away from herself. "One of the wedding party, right?"

"Yeah," he whispered and reached for her hand again. "I am. I was out here looking for you. I'm A-"

She shrank back. No matter how much she wanted to, she shouldn't be thinking about him this way. She was getting married to someone else.

The man dropped his hand quickly, eyes roaming her face, like he was looking for what he had done wrong. When he couldn't find anything, he ran his fingers through his hair and stammered out an apology. Marinette watched each lock fall back into place, the light catching each strand and making him glow.

"I'm-" he tried again, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Ni- W-winston."

"Winston?" Marinette couldn't help but laugh a little. That was the least French-sounding name she'd ever heard.

"Winston the groomsman," he said, not looking at her. "Yes, old family name. My father's name, and his father's name, and I think I have an old uncle. Because we're British way back there somewhere on my mother's side-"

"Nice to meet you, 'Winston.'" It was apparent he was nervous, and she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. "What are you doing out here? You were looking for me?"

"Um." He looked around the hallway for inspiration, and Marinette immediately regretted her question as she watched his discomfort grow.

"I- He- The groom wanted to meet you before the wedding," Winston confessed.

"He did?"

"Yeah, he wanted to break tradition and see you, but Fa- his father is stifling stick in the mud."

"Yeah?" The knowledge was somehow both comforting and unsettling. She and her future husband had both wanted to meet first, but her father-in-law… she wasn't going to fit in.

"Yeah," he breathed. "He can't wait to meet you. But he couldn't get away, so I thought I'd come out here. And, wow, he's going to love you. You're amazing."

Marinette flushed at the compliment. "Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Love and first sight and everything?"

"Sure," Winston said, "but you know what I mean."

In the distance, an organ started playing softly, but Marinette barely heard it. This man would go through all that trouble for a friend of his? He was so kind, and she was going gooey under his intense gaze.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked quietly.

Just like that, the glow was gone. Would he believe the truth, that she was just hoping for some fresh air? He might be sympathetic. But he might not be. Who would feel sorry for a bride on her wedding day?

"I was… looking for the bathroom and got super lost." She adjusted her skirt with one hand to give herself something to do and then laughed nervously. "This place is such a maze."

Winston didn't answer right away. He studied the train of her dress, mouth a thin line of disappointment. Her shoes dangled from her loose fingers as she waited, and she adjusted her grip.

"You don't have to get married today, you know," he said. "You can call it off."

Marinette squirmed at how perceptive he was - or maybe she was just obvious - and pushed her hair out of her eyes. When it fell back into place, Winston reached out to tuck it behind her ear but stopped himself. His hand hung there awkwardly between them until he let it slowly fall.

"It's okay to be nervous," he said. "I know lots of people who didn't go through with their weddings. Loads."

Marinette smiled at the lie, grateful he was trying in spite of everything, though she was still a little worried he was going to tell Adrien about this conversation, or that word would somehow get to her future in-laws. She wasn't sure which would have been worse, giving her in-laws ammunition or disappointing Adrien.

"No, I really did get lost," she said. "I didn't mean to get all the way over here." And to make it sound convincing, she added, "Do you know the way back?"

"I can walk you." Adrien stood up straight, his smile returning.

"Oh, you don't have to," Marinette said quickly. There might still be a chance for her to find a window and that breath of fresh air she'd been hoping for.

"I insist." Winston held out an arm for her, and like the idiot she was, she eagerly took it. His free hand settled over hers, and they began to walk.

Her heels swung from her other hand, and without their added inches, the difference in their height was ludicrous. But Winston didn't comment on it, just matched her pace without making her feel rushed.

Together, they left the small hallway and stepped back into the still deserted main hallway. Sunlight poured through the windows, reflecting off the gleaming floors and sparkling crystal chandeliers high above. Winston's hand on hers was comforting, and he was so sweet to help her, but now there was no chance for her to get away.

Feebly, she said, "I think I recognize this part now. You can get back."

"Oh, they won't miss me," Winston said. "I'll make sure you get back safe. Is there anything else you need?"

Marinette sighed. As kind as he was handsome, and she hoped he never removed his hand from hers. Why did he have to be so nice and gentle?

After several more turns, she really did start to recognize things. How had she wandered so far? Her family must have been worried by now.

Marinette didn't bother to escape from him again, and Winston didn't let go of her, even when they stopped in front of the bride's room with its white and blank, gleaming, bronze plaque.

"I can't wait to see you coming down the aisle in a few minutes," Winston said. He lowered his arm, and her hand slipped away from his sleeve. She felt the loss of his touch immediately. "I mean, if you still want to," he added quickly.

"I'll be fine," she squeaked. "Thanks."

"Okay," he said, waving goodbye without moving away. "Great. See you."

Yup. He was definitely the most adorable, sweet, and beautiful man she'd ever met. "Why couldn't I be marrying this guy?"

Winston took a step back. "What?"

Huh? She'd said that out loud? She'd said that out loud!

Fumbling for the handle behind her, Marinette said a hasty goodbye and launched herself through the door and slammed it shut without looking at his expression. What was she supposed to do now?

"Girl, where have you been?"

In seconds, Alya, Sabine, and Tom were gathered around her. Marinette leaned her back against the cool door, wondering if Winston was still staring at the spot where she'd been standing.

"Are you all right?" her father asked.

"Just needed some fresh air," Marinette said, staring at their shoes. "Then I got lost. Have you seen this place?"

"Marinette," Sabine said, lifting her daughter's chin with one soft hand. "You can tell us the truth."

The tension in Marinette's body all came out in a rush. Her shoulders slumped, and she slid down the door two inches.

Tom brought over a chair, and Marinette tried to sit down, only to find that her dress was caught in the door. What else could go wrong today? Without peeking into the hallway, she opened the door and removed her train - to her relief, it didn't look like she'd ripped it - and then collapsed into the chair.

"It's okay to be nervous," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded, though that wasn't the entire problem anymore. She was supposed to be marrying a friend of "Winston's" in a few minutes, maybe his best friend or even his brother. He would be standing there, witnessing her marriage, knowing what she'd just said. How was she supposed to show her face out there now?

Her parents and Alya doted on her, trying to put her fears at ease, but it was only making everything worse. She couldn't ignore her anxiety while everyone was talking about it. They flitted around the small room, fetching her water, guiding her to sit down in front of the triple mirror vanity, offering to brush her hair out. "That always calmed you down when you were little," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded.

"If it makes you feel better," Tom said, "I'm sure he's just as nervous as you are. I was nervous, too."

"Everyone expects you to be a little anxious." Sabine picked up the bristle brush while Marinette avoided looking at herself in the mirror. "You're marrying someone without ever having met him. That's terrifying. But you're going to be okay."

Marinette nodded again, dumbly. They waited for her to say something, respond with her usual cheerful attitude, and when she didn't, Alya jumped in.

"Sabine, didn't you get married and move to France at the same time?"

All four of them knew the story. Marinette had grown up hearing it, had loved hearing her parents' own love story.

"I found out my soulmate's name two days after my twenty second birthday," she said. Marinette could almost mouth the words along with her mother, they were so familiar. "I couldn't believe he was so far away. I started teaching myself French almost immediately, but the first time we got on the phone to speak to each other, all I could say was hello!"

A tug on Marinette's scalp told her that Sabine had found a small knot. She set the brush down and started to pick at it with her fingers.

"I moved away from home to a strange country, and was learning a new language, and was nervous about meeting my soulmate, but as soon as I saw him, it didn't matter," Sabine said. "You're going to be fine. As soon as you see him, you'll love him, and everything will be okay."

"I know all that," Marinette said. "But I'm scared now!" Not to mention distracted by "Winston," and the crushing guilt that reminded her she shouldn't be.

"Well," her father cut in. "What do you want to do about it, Marinette? Do you feel like we should wait a little bit?"

"Yeah," Alya added. "We can tell them there's something wrong with your dress or whatever if you need a few more minutes."

"I'm sure Adrien would understand," Sabine said. "He seemed very kind when we talked to him."

A few more minutes sounded wonderful, a chance to collect herself, do delay the inevitable. Or a chance for her anxiety to get worse. She took a deep breath. "No, let's just get this over with."

"Very convincing." Alya picked her clutch up off the vanity and started fishing around inside it. "You sound so pumped. Let me just text Adrien." Alya pulled out her phone.

"No," Marinette said, covering the phone with one hand. Her fake nails clicked on the screen.

"Waiting's not going to make it easier. I don't need any more time to worry. It's like you said, when I see him, everything will be fine. So let's just so see him. I want to see him."

"All right." Alya dropped her phone onto the table and grabbed the eye shadow. "Come here, then."

Marinette sat as still as she could while Sabine finished her hair and Alya did her makeup and Tom hovered around, asking what he should do to make her feel more comfortable. When they didn't give him any ideas, he started telling funny stories from Marinette's baby days.

Marinette only half listened, making sure to smile when someone else laughed. Maybe Winston had asked "What?" because he hadn't heard what she'd said. She had said it quietly, after all. That was logical.

Eventually, Tom had to leave the room to check on how things were progressing. Marinette missed his voice and his stories. The silence was too easy for her anxious mind to fill.

If she could just make it a few more minutes, if she could just make it to the altar, then she'd fall in love with her soulmate at first sight and everything would be great. No more worrying. No more wondering.

The final piece of her outfit, her veil, was laid out neatly on the flower-print sofa, waiting for her. When Alya declared her face perfect and Sabine could find no hair out of place, Marinette strapped her heels back on and stood, knees shaking, and retrieved her veil. She seemed like another woman in the mirror as she watched herself put it on.

Marinette did want to meet Adrien. She did. A few days ago, she'd felt excited. Just his name was enough to put a smile on her face. Her parents had met him, and she'd devoured every detail of him they could give her. Elation had bubbled through her chest as she had designed her wedding dress. It had taken weeks to finish simply because she was having so much fun designing it that she hadn't wanted to stop. If she could remember what it had felt like then, maybe she could recreate the feelings now.

The door creaked as it opened, and Tom walked back in. "It's time," he said, extending his arm for her.

Marinette plastered a smile onto her trembling lips and leaned on his arm to compensate for the weakness in her knees. No one else needed to know about her struggle, least of all Adrien.

The walk down the hallway to the chapel didn't take as long as Marinette thought that it should have. The organ music was too loud, but still not loud enough to drown out the breathing and whispers of a room full of hundreds of people, everyone who was ever important to her, and more that she would get to know well in her lifetime as Adrien's wife.

The processional song began to play, and Marinette walked in, staring at the pink petals on the carpet in front of her. Pews creaked and fabric rustled as everyone stood for her. And she kept her face down.

Don't make eye contact with the groomsmen. You're getting married to Adrien, so don't look for adorable "Winston."

Marinette forced her face up, searching out the people she knew. For her bridesmaids and Alya, her mother in the front row. Her school friends throughout the year, aunts and uncles who had flown from all over the world. A few held tissues, some waved at her. They were all smiling.

Everyone was smiling except for her.

She should be looking at her new husband - her soulmate - for the first time. He was probably looking at her. Had he already fallen for her? Was he wondering why she wasn't looking at him?

That curiosity was nothing compared to how much she wanted to look for the man she'd met in the hallway. There was something seriously wrong about that. It went beyond the guilt that she felt. It was a strangeness in the situation that she didn't have time to think about.

The line of petals thinned and disappeared halfway to the altar, and the organ music swelled.

The temptation was too great. Marinette raised her eyes, looking at the groomsmen first, looking for the friend that shouldn't have liked as much as she did. Because she was marrying someone else, she reminded herself as she quickly scanned their faces. And because she had only known him for about two minutes. What was wrong with her?

Her gaze skimmed them all twice, three times, but Winston wasn't there. Her footsteps stuttered to a halt before taking a big step to match her father's long stride. The hand holding her bouquet started to sweat.

Could he not bear to watch her marrying someone else? No, that was ridiculous. He didn't feel the same way. He wasn't feeling torn like she was.

He had definitely been part of the wedding party. He'd said so. So who was he?

The carpet ended, and Marinette heels clicked on marble as realization clicked into place. He was part of the wedding party, but not one of the groomsmen, so that must have meant…

For the first time that day, her heart pounded from something other than anxiety.

Marinette held her head high and looked for him. And she found him. "Winston." It had been a ridiculous name anyway. Adrien suited him much better.

Adrien smiled broadly at her. That wonderful smile she first saw out in the hallway was now a hundred times brighter, focused solely on her. He had snuck out to see her, had so gently guided her back when she was lost, had made sure she was comfortable, and offered to call off the wedding.

No wonder she had liked him so much. Love at first sight, just like everyone said.

He reached out a hand for her as she took the last few steps to the altar. Marinette slid her fingers into his, and they fit perfectly.

"Hi, Winston," Marinette whispered as she nestled herself into his side. "Could the groom not get away again? Are you getting married for him too?"

"I said the groom was going to love you," he said. "And I was right."

The last notes of the organ faded away, and a hush settled over their friends and family. This was it. They stepped together up to the altar. The first step of their lives together.

***

Author's note: Merry Christmas! You're getting something completely un-Christmasy. Huge thank you to @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs, @vivalasaturn, and @noirshitsuji for reading over my outline of this and making sure everything made sense!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrienette #arranged marriage au #soulmate au #incorrect quotes

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1234-angelika · 3 years

Text

Teacher, Teacher

an: this is the final post of the week and the first installment in the Happily Ever After series for Matt. I'm excited to share with y'all, this has been in the works for a while. Hope you enjoy!

words:1.2 k warnings:Divorce, custody battle,

summary: "The best things in life are unexpected-because there were no expectations." -Eli Khamarov

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

At 18, you thought that you wanted to practice law. So, you went ahead and started on that journey.

You got your bachelor's degree in English with a minor in psychology. After that, you went on to write the LSAT and scored 170. With that impressive score, you applied to multiple programs and decided on the path of getting your J.D. at Columbia Law School in New York with a focus on family law. It took you three years, and then you moved to Virginia. You applied to a prep class before taking the bar, and that's where you met Kristy. Although you were taking different paths, you became fast friends, keeping in contact throughout the years. You passed the bar on your first try. It was a lot of work, but to you, it was worth it.

After a few years of working in family law, you saw a really rough case. It was a custody dispute. The case had started off pretty straightforward and then spiralled at an impeccable speed. After that case, you decided to take a break. You resigned and went back to school instead of getting your Certified Childcare Professional credential. And then you opened up a day-care in your neighbourhood where childcare was scarce. It didn't take long for business to pick up and for you to be busy all the time. You had two co-workers who were a tremendous help with the workload and genuinely good people.

Being a day-care teacher was such a rewarding job, shaping your minds to wonder and question everything, but man, was it exhausting.

To start your day, you slept in past your alarm. Way past, like 40 minutes, your busy week must have caught up to you. You had called your co-workers as soon as you woke up to apologize for being late and to tell them that they would have to start the day without you. You hopped in the shower and got ready for the day, not even grabbing a snack before rushing out the door. You headed to the nearest drive-through for a hot coffee and something to eat. The drive-through line was long, which didn't help your stress about the fact you were late. The only thing that made the lousy morning a little bit better was the fact it was Friday.

The sunshine provided the opportunity for a lot of outdoor exploration and independent play. We spent the morning doing math and science—which was really nature exploration—before going back in for a snack. After snack time, we went back outside for art which was drawing with chalk and water-colour painting. After lunch, we focused primarily on the idea of independent play.

For having such an abrupt start to your day, the rest of your workday seemed to pass quite slowly. By 4, almost all children had been picked up, your co-workers had left—all the children except the Simmons kids. From what you understood—from the small amount Kristy had told you—reminding you of your previous career. She and her husband were going through a divorce with an ugly custody battle happening. To add to that, apparently, their dad worked an insane job with unpredictable hours.

Today was the first day he was supposed to pick them up since the split. Kristy had warned you that he probably wouldn't be on time. So, you had prepared. You had snacks and drinks and a movie playing on the screen. You were working away at the paperwork, and the boys were playing on the carpet while Beauty and the Beast was streaming on the screen. By the time that movie had finished, you finished all the paperwork you had to do, and the boys became tired of playing on the floor, deciding to just focus on the movie instead.

Standing up, you said, "Alright, before we watch another movie, let's clean up our toys."

They were pretty quick in getting up and cleaning up their toys. When all the toys were put away, markers were cleaned up, and paper neatly stacked where it was supposed to be, you got ready for the next movie. Bean bag chairs were brought to the carpet while the boys grabbed some snacks and juice boxes.

"Get comfy!" You said with a smile as the boys ran to the bean bags. Each picking their favourite colour. "Now, what movie are we watching now?"

"Up!" David said, and you looked at Jake before putting it on. He nodded so, you went ahead with the movie.

About halfway into the movie, you heard a multitude of footsteps coming down the hallway, accompanied by voices. As quiet as possible so as not to disturb the boys, you got up from your bean bag and walked to the door to see what the noise was. If it was an intruder, you wanted to at least try and protect the kids. When you got to the door, you swung it open. There stood a tall, model-like man with his hand raised, ready to knock on the door. Beside him, two darling little girls who were absolutely adorable and very obviously twins.

"Hello, can I help you sir?" You asked the man, using your body to block the doorway as best you could.

"I'm Matthew Simmons—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the two boys ran into his legs shouting;

"Daddy!"

You nodded to yourself in understanding. Once each of the boys latched onto a leg, he continued, "—and I'm here to pick up my sons."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, their school teacher."

You lead him into the room.

"So Y/N, is there anything I need to do before I can take the boys home?"

"Matthew—"

"Please call me Matt,"

"—Matt, I need you to sign the sheet on my desk and the book by the door and then you can go."

Matt went over to your desk, signed the paper and, walked back over to the door and signed the book. Then he walked into the cubby area, kids trailing behind. You walked over and helped him pack his sons' things, he packed Jake's bag, and you packed David's. After the boys had put on their coats and outside shoes, you handed David his backpack. He swung it on, and Jake did the same.

As they walked out, Matt stopped in the doorway. Turning to look at you, he said;

"Bye Miss Y/L/N. See you Monday." And with a wink, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, and then, you understood why Kristy never introduced you to her soon-to-be ex-husband. That dazzling smile and flirtatious demeanour were heart-stopping.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matt simmons #matt simmons x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

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lsvdw-blog · 3 years

Text

Not a Minute More: Part 2

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings; Rating: Mentions of a cyberattack, Angst; Teen+

Premise: MC's perspective on the day that rocks Ethan to his core and threatens to change his life.

Author’s Note: I was going to wait to post this, but I'm loving the flood of content we're getting rn, so I thought I'd hop on too. I cried writing this... I'm so sorry 😭. Part 1 here. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

~ Monday, 8:20am ~

"Good morning, Mike!" Serena greets the security guard right inside the door.

"Hey! How are ya? How's that Dr. Ramsey?"

"We're both doing well, thanks! How about you and the family?" She asks as she puts her phone in a cubby and unplugs the Wi-Fi enabler from her laptop.

"It was the wife and I's anniversary this weekend! We went to Martha's vineyard and saw the most beautiful proposal! You and Dr. R gonna get going on that soon? Aly has been talking about going to y'alls wedding since she met ya!" Mike gives a playful wink.

"Oh, congratulations! That's wonderful and send Aly my best wishes. But you'll have to talk to E on that one," she laughs before opening the door to a stairwell that leads to a classified area.

After keying in her pin, the door clicks open. She grabs a static protection lab coat, walks through the entrance, and is met with a plethora of state-of-the-art equipment. Floor-to-ceiling grey switch panels, curved monitors as far as the eye can see, and countless probes, clips, and wires.

She walks over to a few familiar faces. “Good morning! How’s it going?”

“Nice of you to finally join us! Dr. Ramsey keep you this morning?” Isla, one of the engineers, jests.

“I saw your check-in on the monitor — you walked in two minutes before me!”

“Those diagnostic skills at work, I see,” Isla retorts and they both laugh.

Isla had become a fast and faithful friend since Serena joined the project. They bonded quickly over both being minorities in the world of science and supported each other in every work facet. They had lunch together everyday and gradually, their work bond grew into a personal friendship as well. They’ve become so close that Isla now also regularly spends time with the original Edenbrook gang.

“Alright, enough chit chat. Let’s get this show on the road.”

The team nods and responds, “Yes, Doctor.”

~ 12:00pm ~

Serena exits the classified area with some colleagues and they all make their way to retrieve their phones.

"No new patients. Stuck in meetings and doing paperwork. I miss you and wish you were here."

She immediately breaks out into a large grin after reading Ethan's text and hits the dial button.

"Hey, ready for lunch?" Carmen, one of the lead scientists, asks.

Serena nods and moves her phone slightly away from her ear. "Be there in a minute. You guys go ahead."

She waits for a few more rings. He’s probably busy, I’ll call again later. She hangs up and makes her way to the cafeteria.

~ 12:40pm ~

"We did all the necessary prep work this morning to begin testing after lunch. Everything is looking good. We can begin running our tests since everyone is here. Are we all ready to begin?"

"Yes."

The system engineers are sitting at connected computer stations, inputting the required credentials to start. The rest of the team is standing behind them, waiting and nervously watching the screens. After a couple minutes of tense silence with nothing but the clack clack clack of keyboard keys, Vincenzo, one of the lead engineers, speaks up.

"This is weird… we're having some trouble accessing the necessary data. Did someone put up a firewall?"

Everybody looks around at each other, shaking their heads and muttering "no."

"Isla, are you seeing this? Can you get through?"

Isla continues to type, not saying anything. After a few more seconds, she turns to look at Vincenzo with a concerned expression. "I don't recognize some of the items in our system."

Just as she finishes her sentence, everyone's attention is pulled abruptly to a wall monitor on the right as it starts showing nonsensical images and patterns. Two seconds later, an alarm goes off and a red warning light begins flashing within the building. Everyone's eyes go wide as realization dawns on them: they've been compromised and shelter-in-place has been activated.

~ 12:55pm ~

Everyone begins to evacuate the classified lab area, grabbing their phones on the way out, and peering through the one-way windows. They can occasionally hear Mike speaking rapidly into the phone with a 911 dispatcher, when he's not being drowned out by shouts from colleagues.

On the descent to the bunker, the tension is palpable. Individuals clutch onto each other, others try frantically to reach loved ones, and some are in complete disbelief and shock. As they all descend the five flights of the winding staircase to the basement, windows are no longer available, but the ceiling bulbs keep flickering on and off. Each time it happens, everyone stops in their tracks, ducks down on instinct, and picks up the pace when the lights come back on.

~ 1:15pm ~

The entrance to the Harvard labs bunker is protected by a vault door that has a counter system. When the system is in place, the door can be opened once for people to get in. Once it's been closed, it can only be opened when there's one person on either side working together — it's futile with only one person. The only other way it can be opened is by shutting down the counter system from the outside, with the correct override pin, which only a handful of the most trusted team members know.*

As the vault door comes into sight, the wheel on the outside is turned, and the door opens with a whoosh. People slowly start filing in and head towards the back. However, not everyone can stay in the safety of the bunker. In case of an emergency, the project they’re working on must be erased, to protect it from falling into the wrong hands. Certain people have been assigned particular instructions to delete specific portions.

Serena is one of them.

She's walking next to Isla and their arms are looped together. As Isla enters the bunker, Serena lets go of her arm, stopping at the threshold. Isla whips her head around.

"What are you doing?! Get in here!" She reaches for Serena’s arm.

Serena shakes her head. "I'm the only one currently here who knows the medical codes."

Isla's eyes are frantic in realization. "I'll go back with you! I'll be your lookout! You're not going alone!"

"You'll be safe here. This is my responsibility."

Serena reaches behind her neck and unclasps her gold necklace for the first time in 7 years. She grabs Isla's hand and places the jewelry into her palm, closing Isla's fingers around it.

Serena stares at their clasped hands. "In case anything happens," they both flinch at another flickering of lights. "Promise me that you'll get this to E."

Their eyes are locked now, having a silent battle: Isla begging her to stay and Serena finding the strength not to.

"Isla, promise me. Please." Serena squeezes Isla’s hand that much tighter.

Isla realizes that there's no use in fighting Serena. Risking her life to delete the project is part of the job. They all made a commitment and if the roles were reversed, Isla would be the one fighting to go back.

Isla slowly nods. "I promise, Serena. I promise. But do your best to keep yourself safe. Try and stay near the corners, away from any large equipment that could have aftershock effects, and—"

Serena shakes her slightly. "I know, Isla. We did take the same training," she smiles, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but Isla just stares gravely at her.

A booming sound rattles the building and Serena knows it's time to go. She gives Isla a quick hug, before pushing her backwards into the bunker. Before Isla has regained her footing, Serena has closed the bunker door with a resounding thud.

~ 1:30pm ~

On the way back to the classified area, Serena takes out her phone. Ethan hasn't returned her earlier call. Her heart is pounding and with trembling hands, she hits the call button on Ethan's contact card for the second time in less than two hours. After a few rings, his voice comes through.

"You've reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I apologize for missing your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Just as she’s about to start speaking, the lights go down for good. "Hey E," she tries her best to keep her voice from shaking. She puts the call on speaker, places the phone out in front of her, and turns the flashlight on. "I don't know when this will hit the news, but we're currently under cyberattack. I don't know from who or what, but they’ve already gotten into our mainframe and power supply. Everyone has sheltered-in-place and is awaiting further instructions." She takes a deep breath as she inches down a corridor.

"Everyone except me, Vincenzo, and Carmen. We’re the only three here right now trained to completely delete the project in the event something like this happened. I'm walking back to the lab as I speak."

Serena rounds a corner and the lab comes into view. Thinking about what she has to say next, silent tears stream down her face.

"Ethan, sweetheart, I need you to know that the last eight months by your side have been the absolute best eight months of my entire life. You are the light of my existence and mean everything to me." She lets out a deep breath. "I wish I could hear your voice right now… I'm really scared. But I made a commitment, so I need to go back in and finish the job. If something happens, know that you are unequivocally the love of my life and the one for me. I know we haven't talked about it yet, but know that I want to spend forever with you as your wife and have you be the father of my children." She sniffs and continues, "you would be a fantastic husband and dad."

She comes to a stop in front of the keypad located right outside the lab and swallows past the lump in her throat. "But if the universe has other plans for me, I'll be waiting for you and I can't wait to spend forever with you in the next life. This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but until next time, whenever that is, I love you so much, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, more than words could ever properly convey."

She ends the phone call with tear-filled eyes, stashes her phone on a nearby workbench, punches in her key, and enters the classified area one more time.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: I have no idea if Harvard labs has a bunker and if they do, what kind of door/system they utilize. This is all purely AU!

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #choices open heart #playchoices #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #choices stories you play

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plantsarefun06 · 3 years

Text

Creation of Lazarus

"But I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved one is just poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain."

-Ra’s al Ghul ----

Ra’s was born in the Arabi desert, to nomads, in 1430. If you asked any person from that tribe what Ra’s was, they would say “A boy with dreams”. Ra’s had dreams of knowledge, dreams of helping others, he dreamed of having a legacy, and a great one at that.

His dreams led him to leave his tribe. He knew that as a nomad, he would never truly achieve what he wished to and the best course of action was to settle down in a great city and continue the measly education that he got as a nomad, and the great knowledge the libraries of the Sultan provided.

His studies led him to a physician. Ra’s requested to become a physician, he wanted to help others, this would offer him an opportunity to study and learn about diseases and ailments, firsthand, and offer him chances to help the sick and injured.

The physician asked for one thing. “I am infirm and soon for the grave. My daughter, Sora, she will need a husband to look after her.” That’s when he heard a yell from the curtain behind the clerk’s desk. A woman swiftly pushed back the curtain to scold her father. “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to marry me off!”

The girl, clearly about his age, looked at him, let out a quick huff before grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip and dragging him behind the clerk’s desk, behind the curtain, into what he could now see was a closet, with medicines and serums lining the walls, all filled with cobwebs and dust, clearly having not been used in a while.

“I’ll be honest with you Ra’s… I don’t really like boys much… but I can offer you companionship and support. And if we get married it will make my father’s last days much happier.” He was evaluating what she said as she said it when she quickly looked over to the shelves “And him stop pestering me.” She mumbled more to herself than Ra’s. At that he let out a light chuckle and having thought over her offer gave her his thoughts.

“I admit, I’m more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than women. We might be able to come to some… mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Sora gave a light smile to Ra’s, and he returned it. They both understood the agreement they both had created.

----

Within the year, as they all had expected, Sora’s father had died.

Despite them knowing that the time was drawing near, it was still hard. Sora would never admit it, but she shed a tear at his funeral, watching the bird fly through the skies as he was laid out in the Tower of Silence for a sky burial, traditional for his Zoroastrianism.

To cope Ra’s delved into his studies and found a project of the late physician. He had seen him look over it many times, but he had never been allowed to read the texts. He would simply watch as the physician would spend hours pouring over the texts, before the physician would finally come over and teach him about traditional medicinal herbs and serums and their effects. Ra’s forever acknowledges that he learned more in his months under the physician's tutelage, than he ever did in the library.

He learned of how diseases spread, and the common ways they would extend across the city in the matter of weeks. How if they started within the markets, they would quickly spread across many of the peasants, and other middle-class folk, but they wouldn’t get much farther, and how if the diseases started amongst the slaves, they would spread much faster due to the unsanitary conditions, and they would often then be picked up by someone of upper class, as they traditionally had slaves, and spread.

He was eternally grateful for the lessons he was given. They helped him serve the city in incredible ways. Ra’s performed near miracles for anyone who needed it. His reputation started to grow, some upper-class citizens would refuse to come, because Ra’s would cater to slaves, but others would request the treatment of Ra’s and would always find themselves healed within the week.

But these texts that he found of the physicians, seemed to have some pages with herbs and brews, but the majority held drawings of people, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, all bright, with texts in a script he couldn't begin to understand. He looked among the pages and found what looked to be a cypher in the physician's handwriting. The physician had part of the unfamiliar script figured out… no not script… it was CODE! The texts were coded!

All he would need to do was complete the cypher and he would discover what the texts were for.

----

Ra’s poured hours into the texts and completing the code, with no such luck.

“It’s no good. These codes your father was working on have me beat. I can’t break it…” He called to his wife, who was currently working in the front of the shop after it closed about an hour ago, she was preparing for the next day, he supposed.

“Perhaps I can help?” She poked her head in from behind the curtain to peer at him being over the table.

“Thank you, Sora. A warm bowl of goat’s milk and nutmeg would be most refreshing.” Ra’s commented back to her, without lifting his eyes from the texts in front of him.

He could practically feel the glare she was giving him. He wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t burn him with the intensity he could only feel from it, and he wasn’t even looking at her.

“I mean with the code. I learnt much from my father and knew he was struggling to complete his final great work, just as much as you. You’re not married to a servant girl, Ra’s. Warm the milk yourself, and let me see those figures.” The defiance in her tone was thick and her anger was subtle yet tangible. He didn’t understand it but that defiance, and strong will made him want to love her.

He knew that their relationship was built on the agreement of companionship, and for the safety of Sora after her father’s death, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love her. Love the way she would snark him when he would ask her to do things, that he could do himself, love how she would hum as she cooked the dinner that they ate every night, her loved how she would ever so lightly furrow her eyebrow when she was concentrated on work.

Ra’s let out a small smile and turned to meet his wife by the curtain. He bent down to kiss her forehead, “Sora… I believe this is going to be a beautiful marriage.” He gave her a light hug before giving her another kiss on her forehead and mumbling to her just loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll go warm some goat’s milk for the both of us, and you can look over the codes, until I get back, and we can work on them together.” He gave her a light squeeze before unraveling himself from her and going off to warm the goat’s milk, and Sora heading over to the table to study the texts.

----

“More code?” Ra’s asked no one in particular. He and Sora had stumbled upon a trapdoor underneath a floor mat in the medicinal closet while cleaning. Ra’s could tell from the hinges alone that it was used regularly. When they opened the hatch they saw that it led down a small ladder, the ladder led to a room, an underground cave almost, despite it being quite dark he could make out the sound of lightly sloshing water and summarized that there was a pool in this cave.

They both held small candles, and when holding them close to the wall they saw it. It was a wall full of more texts! They were familiar enough with the code to recognize that the code from the texts upstairs matched the one in front of them.

A glint of recognition and understanding was in Sora’s eyes. “My father was working on a map of the Tibetan mountains, using the wisdom of the stars and other maps from the libraries of the Sultan. And figuring out the meaning of the code from texts of the ancients. A code showing…” She stopped speaking, her eyes running over a few things before stopping.

“And code of what?” Ra’s questioned Sora’s sudden quietness and turned to give her his whole focus. Her eyes were completely fixed on one drawing. It was of the silhouette of a man, behind him was a circle of purple. The way it was positioned it seemed to be describing the man emitting the purple. Like he was glowing.

He refocused his attention on his wife’s face as she turned to him, “One which tells the way to achieve something men have long dreamed-” he saw the emotions his wife’s face held. Emotions he had never seen in her face before, it was complete and utter disbelief,

“-a wish to change reality.”

----

They soon were able to decipher enough code to learn that the Tibetan mountains was the location of the Temple of Guardians, the holders of two pieces of magical jewelry that possessed the ability, when combined, to grant a wish that could alter reality.

Sora and Ra’s had both packed enough for a 3-week trip on horseback, to the Tibetan mountains, and back. Ra’s had won the argument over who would be going, Sora wanting it to be herself, but eventually agreeing Ra’s would be better suited for the job, considering he grew up as a nomad, much to Sora’s chagrin.

He had been on trek for a week and was taking a rest on the side of the dirt road to fill his canteen with water from a stream he saw nearby, when he saw a flash of light blue and white out of the corner of his eyes. He immediately drew one of the daggers that he carried at all times and started to look around for what he saw.

He hadn’t fought anyone in a decade, last time being a practice spar with his uncle the night before he left to go live in the city alone, and even then, he was only okay, but he did know some forms of martial arts and weaponry in theory. He read about it in some of the texts from the library, while theory may not have anything on experience, it was better than nothing.

He was beginning to think he had either come down with a fever and been hallucinating, or he had simply been seeing things, when after five minutes of surveying the area, he could see that no one had been there.

He walked up to his undisturbed horse and grabbed the reins. Upon lifting himself on the horse he heard a light *jingle*. He looked down to find a small drawstring bag tied around the tip of his saddle. He was used to seeing little drawstring bags, like this one, around the shop. Sora often used them to hold the herbs they used for medical purposes, but he didn’t know why she would have packed it, or why it jingled when it was shaken.

He slowly picked it up, examining it as if it were going to spontaneously catch fire. He slowly undid the knot and overturned the contents of it in his gloved hand.

Out fell two earrings and a ring…

A ring that was a black as dark as the night sky he saw as a nomad child, with a pawprint, greener than any grass or any tapestry he had seen before…

And a pair of earrings red as the blood he had seen countless times as a physician, and five distinct spots, black as the ring…

Both the ring and the earrings looking exactly like the drawings he had seen of the Black Cat miraculous and the Ladybug miraculous he had seen in the texts.

Ra’s had learned many lessons in his life, but one of the biggest, most important of them all: There are no coincidences in the world.

Ra’s had no doubt in his mind that in his hand, he held the two most powerful objects in the universe, two objects that would grant him a wish.

Slowly, a grin grew on his face. He immediately seized the reins of his horse, and turned him around, heading faster than he ever had back to the city.

His father-in-law's final project was finally completed on its way to being completed.

----

The look on Sora’s face was one he had only seen once before, when they first discovered the small area underneath the shop, complete and utter disbelief.

“This… these jewels… are they really the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous?” She asked wide-eyed, just looking at what Ra’s had set on the counter after barging into the shop, in a ridiculously loud manner, might she add.

“I do believe it is, they practically feel powerful!”

Sora slowly inched her hand toward where the earrings fell on the counter. The moment she gently brushed her finger against one of the earrings, a bright pink light emitted from it, one that forced both Sora and Ra’s to cover their eyes.

Once the light dimmed, they saw something that was not in the texts.

Both Sora and Ra’s were in a state of shock. It was broken when the thing floated up to her face and began to speak, “Hello my name’s Tikki. I’m the Kwami of Creation!” She said, giving a little twirl in the air.

Ra’s, finally able to speak again, asked, “That does not explain much. What is a ‘Kwami’ and why did you suddenly appear when the earrings were touched by Sora?”

“Ooh. A Kwami is an entity tethered to this plane of reality by the jewelry that is sitting on your counter. I’m the entity of creation. When everything came to be, I came to be with it, not before, not after, some people confuse that.” The ‘Kwami’, as they both learned it was, giggled before continuing with the explanation they both needed, “I’m the thing that gives power to that jewelry, without me, that jewelry is just some antique junk.” She finished her explanation.

It made more sense than just ‘magical jewelry’ to have some entity tethered to it. “If you touch the ring Plagg will come out!” She exclaimed before going over to Ra’s and pulling off his glove and grabbing his hand. She pulled his hand from his side and he willingly allowed the ‘Kwami’ to lift his finger to touch the ring.

A second burst of bright light, green this time, came from the ring. This time Sora and Ra’s expected it so it wasn’t too bad. They only had to blink a couple times before they heard a yawn, “Well that was a good cat nap!” The other ‘Kwami’, who he was guessing his name was ‘Plagg’ from what ‘Tikki’ said, “Do you all have some cheese, I’m starving!”

Sora was the one who pulled herself together enough to answer ‘Plagg’s’ question, “There is some food in the cabinet under the basin. You may find what you are looking for there.” Sora gestured to the curtain and both Kwami got the memo, before floating off where Sora indicated the food would be.

Both Ra’s and Sora locked eyes. Their silent conversation led to them both leaving each other's gaze to eye the ring and earrings. They both agreed that they had no idea what had just happened.

----

“That is not a good idea.”

That was the only thing that was said after Sora and Ra’s took them to see the basement beneath their shop that held the texts and the pool. Both of the Kwami were faced away from the texts as ‘they should not see them’. Ra’s gave them an indignant look at their immediate dismissal of their want for a wish.

“This could help hundreds maybe even thousands of people, how is this not a good idea?”

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.” Tikki tried to explain to both Ra’s and Sora. The sincerity in her voice was deep, but they did not hear the sadness that lingered in it as well.

“Will you not allow us to make the wish?” Sora asked, tilting her head to the side, as if analyzing the situation.

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.” Sorrow again seeped into Tikki’s voice; this time Ra’s noticed it as well.

“Then I will make the wish, I have memorized the incantation and only one of us can make the wish itself.” He pulled the now silver ring and black earrings from his pocket. He placed the ring on his left middle finger. He prepared to force the earrings through his ears, worst case scenario he could use whatever came of the wish to heal himself, only to be pleasantly surprised when the earrings glided through his ear as if he did have a piercing.

Both the Kwami moved to the outstretched hands Ra’s offered and sat down. Ra’s failed to notice the tears in Tikki’s eyes, and the downcast look on Plagg’s face.

The moment he uttered the last syllable, the rush to Ra’s was undeniable. He felt immense amounts of power seeping into his veins.

“I wish to have the means to heal any injury and return any person from death.”

And everything went quiet. All the power he was feeling only moments ago, felt like it was running off him, like dirt would in a shower.

He looked over to see Sora sitting in the ground shielding her face, much in the same manner she was when they first met the Kwami.

Both the earrings and ring started to burn lightly, so he ripped them off and threw them behind him, before running over to Sora and helping her stand.

Ra’s felt at his ear, where he just ripped the earring out, noticing the earrings didn’t leave so much as a scar.

Looking to check over Sora, he saw out of the corner of his eyes a bright green glow.

Both Ra’s and Sora looked over to see a neon, toxic green color at the bottom center of the pool.

It was mesmerizing how the green stretched from a small center at the bottom of the pool out, almost like tentacles, or tree roots growing out in the dirt.

He continued to watch until the entire pool was filled with the green, when he saw the same white and light blue flash out of the corner of his eyes. He tried to turn quickly and catch it, but the only thing he saw was an empty room.

A room empty of both the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous.

----

Life went on relatively normal for Ra’s and Sora. They cleaned out the basement and removed the texts, as they were no use to him anymore, and cleaned the area.

When finding a name, they settled on one- Lazarus Pit - from a biblical story that Sora’s father mentioned in one of the texts.

He had said ‘he wanted to be able to do the same as the Christian’s god, and revive the dead. And if the wish truly worked, it would be able to, they had yet to try the pit and test the magic that quite obviously resided within it.

----

As time went on, and the pit remained below their feet, Ra’s continued his work as a physician, continuing working miracles without the use of the pit, which was an actual miracle. His reputation grew both of his physician's duties, and of the great mind he held. He was referred to as “the greatest mind of his age” by some.

Ra’s had heard him referred to as this on occasion, but he didn’t realize just how far word of his miracles went until the Sultan’s guard requested his aid in healing the prince who had fallen ill.

As the guards left his shop, leaving him with the letter asking him officially of his aid he immediately turned to Sora with quite possibly the largest smile he ever had on his face, “If I could cure the prince-- our reputation would be made, I’d have the funding to push my research forward-”

He was cut off by Sora who he only realized was rubbing her temple with her hands at his rant, “The prince is nothing but a cruel young aristo-- I’ve caught him leering at me in the Bazaar!”

“Don’t do this Ra’s. We can do without the Sultan’s money!” Sora pleaded to him. She held a look of concern on her face that Ra’s completely ignored, rather thinking about what he could possibly do with the benefits of healing a prince.

“You’re wrong! When I walked through the desert, I nurtured a dream. This is my way to fulfill it!”

Ra’s turned away from Sora, and headed down below the shop, to the Pit.

----

Everything went wrong. And Ra’s had no idea how.

Everything was going fine.

The royal guards had brought the sick prince to his shop as requested by Ra’s. The moment he saw the prince Ra’s knew that he was on his deathbed… he knew the only way to help him was using the Lazarus Pit.

He had the guards bring him down the ladder and he followed them, with Sora by his side.

They dipped the prince in the Pit. They let him wade. It was only seconds, maybe a minute, at most, before the prince burst out from under the water. Certainly not sickly like he was, to the point of not being able to walk, not like he was when he arrived.

For the briefest moment Ra’s lived in this fantasy where the Pit healed the Prince, and Ra’s got the reputation he wanted, the funding he needed, and got to continue the research that he always wanted to. He lived in this fantasy where he and Sora worked side-by-side, studied medicine, and became great physicians known for their miracles.

This fantasy ended when the prince left at Sora his eyes, we're not the same as they were when he went in; they were yellow and feral. There was a snap before the guards were able to subdue him. They only realized that the snap was from Sora’s neck. And Sora laid on the ground with scratch marks on her face, her head bent at an unnatural angle, and a small drop of blood dripping down her cheek, from her mouth.

Ra’s fell beside her body, unmoving, he saw out of the corner of his eyes, the prince stopped struggling in the guards' arms and seemed to gain some form of coherency of the situation, but he could not look away from her. He didn’t even breathe until the guards grabbed him as well and put a bag over his head.

Everything went wrong.

----

They said he killed her. The Sultan was told by the prince’s guards that his son had killed the wife of the physician that treated him for his illness.

That he had snapped her neck. In return the guards were killed. They could not have the truth be spread. It could cause uprising if such rumors were told to others. So, the moment he was told the story, directly from the prince’s guards who had been there, and he got assurance that they had taken the husband -the physician- and put him in the dungeons, and after that assurance was placed, he had his personal guards slit their throats.

It wasn’t hard to say it was the husband who did it. Without the guards to tell what happened, and the physician in such a state of shock he wouldn’t even talk, no one questioned what the Sultan said.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

They were the only questions Ra’s was asking himself of late.

He was completely unreactive on the outside but was perfectly aware of what was happening. He was perfectly aware of how the Sultan was placing the blame on him. How the Sultan was saying he killed Sora. He killed his wife.

And yet he knew that regardless of the fact he was innocent, he would still be blamed and persecuted for her death. So, he sat still and continued to ask those questions in his head.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

He knew he was being gagged, tied up, and dragged from his cell from the dungeons beneath the castle. He knew that this is when they would punish him. It would be death.

How he would die?

He did not know.

Likely a public flogging, beating, or torture of some kind before then bend him over a rock and to take his head off.

And to be honest, Ra’s couldn’t feel anything, he was completely numb as his knees, calves, and feet were dragged over the dirt, and cobble leaving long scars. He knew they were supposed to sting, and burn, and just hurt, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He knew that was a bad sign, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He didn’t start to see anything until he saw it. There was a cage in the center of the courtyard, black iron, probably burning hot with the sun as it is, but that is not what caught his eye. It was the body of Sora that laid in it.

He started to feel the burn of the metal as they forced him in the same small cage as Sora. He was forced to curl in on himself as her body lay not 6 inches from him. Sat up against the side of the cage, with rope tied around her neck and waist, keeping her sitting upright, and facing the rest of the unbearably small cage. Her eyes still opened in the same shock they were in when he first was beside her body.

He felt as the cage was lifted up, the burn of the hot metal only worsening, as they carried the cage out to the city walls, to leave him in the desert to die.

----

His eyes never stayed off Sora’s for long. He remembered what her eyes looked like…

… these are not her eyes.

Sora’s eyes held none of what it used to. Her eyes held confidence, charm, they held stubbornness and defiance. All the things that made Sora the woman she was. All the things that were devoid in those eyes.

Those eyes were open and held only one thing: fear. And that was unlike Sora at all. Sora was never afraid.

But maybe she was of death. Maybe her eyes held fear because she realized what was going to happen…

...because she realized she was going to die.

----

Ra’s didn’t know how long he sat in that cage outside the city walls, staring into the unfamiliar eyes.

All he knew was that the trance was broken by the sound of creaking metal. The hinges. And the feeling of hands going under his arms and pulling him up. He had the strength to turn his head and be met with a face that was faintly familiar.

“Who are you?” He weakly rasped out. “Sabih, I’m a slave for the al-Hafiz family. You saved my mother from dysentery four months ago… I figured I owed you the same.”

And that’s all they said. That’s all they said when he walked back towards the al-Hafiz property. That’s all they said after Sabih settled him in the stables and fed him some water and leftover scraps. That’s all they said as Sabih handed Ra’s a small bag with some water, and food in it. That’s all they said before Ra’s returned to the outside of the city walls, and left on a search for the nomadic tribe he was born and raised in.

He didn’t know what to do, but he was going to figure it out, but not do it in that city.

----

It took him a few weeks, and some manual labor in return for supplies, before he found his uncle’s nomads and took control. It was relatively easy.

By the time he had found the nomads he had been able to sort through his mind. Find his priorities.

And right now, he wanted one thing: he wanted the great city to burn.

He wanted them all dead, he just had to be smart about it. He was thankful, now more than ever for the lessons Sora’s father gave.

It would be easy, he would start by giving a disease to the slaves, if the disease would spread quick enough, it could be passed down the classes and severely weaken the city. Especially if the slaves were hit first, considering that the city was built with them as their foundation.

----

The city was ravaged. Those who didn’t die of disease were killed by Ra’s and his men. When the priests of the Zoroastrian Delegation asked if they spared them and their Holy Towers of Silence. Ra’s turned to the man who was the messenger of the request and bared his teeth.

“Kill the priests. Burn their sacred buildings!”

Ra’s stood in before the destruction he caused. He returned to the city a very different man from when he first arrived there.

A man with a different dream…

Ra’s walked back to the old shop. One that he spent much time in. Leading the others down to the opening below the shop to allow them to see the Lazarus Pit.

“Uncle, you are still the leader of our tribe, but the tribe I am describing will stretch farther than the sands of Arabi. Stretch into every land… past the wall of every city.” Ra’s spoke keeping his voice low and authoritarian. His uncle let off a chuckle.

“Oh, nephew. Just like your father. You were always the dreamer. What you speak of it too… fantastical.” His words made Ra’s a bit angry, but a bit smug at the same time. His uncle had no idea what the Pit in front of his very eyes was capable of.

“*tch* My father never had half my vision, Uncle, nor half my talent.”

His uncle just sputtered in response, “But… it would take several lifetimes for one man to accomplish what you speak of!”

Ra’s just smirked at his words, “Yes, uncle. Yes indeed. And it will be quite some journey.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ra’s focused on the pit, reminded of Tikki’s words…

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.”

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.”

He truly did. The creation of this wish helped him achieve one of his life’s greatest desires, one of his greatest loves, and in return he lost the love of his life, Sora.

And if you are to use the Lazarus Pit to heal physical injuries, you will suffer from temporary loss of sanity.

Truly a balance.

“You will learn in time. Time is something we have a great deal of. The destruction of this city… has unleashed a demon.

And I… Ra’s al Ghul… I am truly the Demon’s Head!”

----------

Heavily based off of Batman Annual Vol. 1 26

‘al Ghul’ translates to Demon’s Head in Arabic. Notice how that ‘al Ghul’ is only used during the quote at the beginning of the story(yes I did use a quote from the Nolan movies. It fit really well), and at the end when he loses it.

This is the closest I could possibly get to DC canon on Ra’s al Ghul’s origin. In the original Ra’s does not create the pits he simply finds them, with the help of maps left behind by the physician. I wrote this because I really wanted a Miraculous created Lazarus pit, but one that also had Sora in it. I really like her for the scene with the goat’s milk (that is comic accurate, you can check) and what happened to her was NOT deserved. I also wanted to show the human side of Ra’s, and how rage drove him to be such an evil person.

Also a headcanon of mine is that any miraculous jewelry that is some sort of piercing, does not actually require a piercing to wear, it will just go through the skin as if there was a piercing.

The ‘light blue flash’ that Ra’s thinks he hallucinated was a holder of the Rabbit miraculous leaving both the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous to him. This is done because the Lazarus pits are necessary to a stable timeline, not because whatever holder of the Rabbit miraculous is active, thought it was a good idea. They were practically forced.

Ra’s and Sora were closer to each other than anyone else, she was referred to as the love of his life, and they really had a deep bond and when Sora was killed he was broken. In the comic I based this off of, Talia even says, “[...]the death of Sora broke your grandfather’s heart… and forever darkened his soul.” when speaking to Damian.

#maribat #ra's al ghul #sora al ghul #lazarus pit #ml tikki #ml plagg #miraculous fandom #prequel #the blindness of marinette

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gaemkyuu · 3 years

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So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Warnings: death of a loved one and grief. There is one mention to drinking a bottle of wine but all characters in the story are above the age of 21. A/N: this is based off a post @ah2113 made a little while ago! I liked the idea and decided to write a cute fluffy piece on it! Hope you like it! “Reader and Charlie are best friends and they met on JATP. Charlie and the reader are in love with each other but don’t know. The readers grandma passes away and she calls Charlie, who is in a completely different state/country, in tears about the situation. Charlie feels horrible and completely drops everything he’s doing and immediately flies out to the reader and surprises them. He is with them throughout the whole viewing and funeral and meets her entire family. Everybody mistakens him for the readers boyfriend because of how much he is doing to help and tells the reader that he is clearly in love with them.” Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Charlie was in the middle of an interview when his phone started vibrating. Normally he kept it on airplane mode, but today he forgot. He quickly reached for his phone and saw her name pop up on the screen, losing focus for a brief moment on the interview.

“Pardon me? Could you repeat the question?” Charlie was trying so hard to focus on the interview at hand but knowing he was on the last question, made it all the more difficult to focus when he knew she was calling.

“Charlie, the fans want to know. Are you single?” he chuckled but since he was distracted, he didn’t give a really good answer.

“Kinda” he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth and the fact that he started blushing made the situation worse! Thankfully the interviewer didn’t press any further into the matter and made a casual joke about it. They quickly wrapped the interview knowing that Charlie had another one scheduled right afterwards, but he had a few minutes to make up a phone call.

Amelie had worked on set for season one of Julie as a hair and make up artist and shocked many at how talented she was for her age. She got along well with the cast and would often hang out with them on their days off, but for some reason she gravitated the most to Charlie. Everyone often teased them about the chemistry they had and how they would make a great couple but both of them would laugh at the comments and deny any feelings towards one another. They were simply nothing more but really good friends.

Or so they thought.

Amelie was head over heels for the brunette and Charlie for her. She loved his smile and enthusiasm for life. She admired his work ethic and passion for what he did. She would squash every thought about being with Charlie because he was too good for her. She liked the weirdest things and entertained people with the most random facts. She could spend hours in an art and fashion museum, when most people could only spend so much time. Amelie saw herself as weird and knew that Charlie saw her as nothing more than a friend.

The opposite was true. Charlie loved her quirkiness and nerdiness around the strangest things. He loved that she was always so modest and humble, even though she had all the right to brag at how amazing she was at her talents. He loved how she was always up for trying something new and that she had an eye for fashion, design and art, but he knew she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. That still didn’t stop Charlie from always being there for her.

“Charlie?” her voice came out in a broken and quiet whisper. He could tell that she was crying and he instantly felt his stomach drop. A few sniffles came from the other line before the voice spoke again. “She’s gone Charlie... Grandmaman is gone...” he could hear her voice start to shake again.

“Say the word Amelie and I am there” Charlie glanced at his watch,8:55pm. He had five more minutes until the next interview with the pop culture podcast from Sydney. This meant that it was 5:00am in London, where Amelie was working on Netflix’s newest series. “Ams?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just didn’t know who else to talk to...” she sniffled quietly not sure what else to say.

“What time are you leaving to get to set?” 8:57pm, he was running out of time. He saw the notification that the next interviewer had signed on to their zoom meeting.

“I gotta be on set at 7:00am so the van will be here to pick me up at 6:30am. It’s my last day on set, so there’s that” she sniffled again, feeling herself calm down with Charlie on the other line. She desperately needed him, but she couldn’t ask him that. He was doing press for season 2 of Julie and the Phantoms and he needed to be available, not off consoling his friend who was madly in love with him.

“Amelie, listen, I have to jump onto the next interview, but try to get a little more sleep and drink some water. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. When are you flying back?” Charlie felt awful having to hang up on her when he knew she needed him.

“I’ll be on the next flight out to Vancouver. Hopefully there’s a flight this evening back to Canada. My mom’s really upset and my siblings are rushing to get home for her” Amelie took a deep breath and listened to the frustrated sigh on the other end. He was probably annoyed that she called him. “Thank you for picking up Char”

“Anything for you Ams... I’m really sorry but I have to go now... If you’re busy when I call, can you let me know when you’re at the airport?” Amelie agreed and hung up the phone, flopping on the bed and a silent stream of tears falling from her eyes again. Meanwhile, Charlie sat in his LA bedroom, head in hands frustrated that he couldn’t be there for her.

***

Amelie watched out the window as the plane landed in Vancouver. She felt an anxiousness to get off the plane and be with her mom, but she knew she had to go through security and baggage. She didn’t notice that her leg was restlessly bouncing until the nice old lady beside her placed a hand on her lap.

“Excited are we?” she smiled at her kindly and Amelie blushed, a little embarrassed. “I was once in love too. I get the feeling”

“Actually, I’m just anxious to be with my mom... My grandmother passed away yesterday and I wanna be there for her” the old lady’s smile changed to an empathetic one and she patted her knee.

“I’m sorry for your loss my dear... I lost my sister a year ago today. It is not an easy thing to grieve and I can tell that your soul feels heavy. You might want to think about sharing that load with someone” she smiled. A flight attendant interrupted their conversation letting them know that she had priority to leave the plane. The old woman then looked at Amelie and winked. “They’re letting us off the plane now honey. Thank you miss, but my daughter can grab my bags from the upper compartment, can’t she” baffled at the kindness of the old woman, Amelie dumbly nodded and stood to help her. As they made their way through the gate, an attendant was waiting for the old woman. “You can leave my bags with this gentle man” she smiled.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” the old woman took her hand. “Your mother is fortunate to have you as a daughter. Now go and be with her” Amelie smiled and gave the old woman a hug, and teared up a bit remembering her own grandmother. Wiping away a tear, Amelie said thank you again and headed off to get her bags. To no surprise, getting her suitcase was a gong show because they had to share a lane with another flight. By the time she got there, tons of people waited right by the carousel for their bags, making Amelie stand in the back and tippy toe to see a glimpse of her bag. She was fortunate that a man had helped her as she squeezed her way to the front, waiting for her bag. With a deep breath, she exited the doors and dialed her mother.

“Hello? Maman? What car are you in? Oh wait! I see it!” Amelie quickly rushed outside of the door at YVR to get to her mother’s vehicle. She was able to find a flight that evening and she left right away. The flight was long, but she was able to make it home to her mother’s side in 24 hours. She trotted over to her mother’s vehicle that pulled into the loading zone, flashing their hazards on, her mother getting out of the passenger side. Amelie stopped for a moment, confused that her mother wasn’t driving the car. Her mother quickly embraced her in her arms and both of them shared a tearful hug. “Who’s driving maman?”

Charlie stepped out of the driver’s seat and took Amelie’s suitcase from her, as she stood there with her mouth open. “Surprise?” she immediately felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her and she jumped into Charlie’s waiting arms crying as he held her tight. She felt sadness and happiness while grieving over her Grandmother and feeling elated at the sudden presence of the boy.

“How?” she sniffled and pulled away, wiping her tears.

“Charlie knew how sad you were over Grandmaman, so he texted me late last night and flew in early this morning” her mother explained. Amelie’s mother knew of her crush on the boy and always encouraged her to pursue the relationship further, but she always insisted to her mother that they would be nothing more than friends. Her mother would roll her eyes at her daughter every time she said that, knowing that the chemistry and the feelings were there, but the two were just too stubborn to admit it.

“That’s what friends are for right?”

Right. Friends.

***

After being picked up at the airport, they went straight to her mother’s house and helped her mom plan out things for the funeral. Naturally, Charlie became the chauffer, driving Amelie and her mom around the city to make various appointments with funeral directors and lawyers. Amelie’s grandmother gave birth to five children and never remarried after her husband passed away. Amelie had very little recollection of her grandfather as he passed away when she was quite young. Each of her mother’s siblings had at least three kids and each child had at least three kids, making their family huge. That didn’t include her mother’s cousins and their families, all of which would be flying in to attend the funeral in two days time.

Running around was an emotionally exhausting task, not to mention the exhaustion that came with grief. The two women were grateful that Charlie was around for them that day as Amelie’s siblings slowly started to get into town. He ordered pizza for everyone, knowing that all of her siblings would be in Vancouver in time for the funeral. Her grandmother was clear that she wanted the viewing and funeral to be combined into one day, not wanting to prolong her burial process, something that they honored. But with that request, it meant a lot had to be done.

Amelie had four siblings, all of which were older than her, making her the baby of the family. Her brother Benoit had moved to New Brunswick to live with the love of his life Maxime, and he was the second to arrive. He had work to take care of and unfortunately Maxime couldn’t get the time off. Benoit got along very well with Charlie, connecting over Dieppe and how it differed from Fredericton where Benoit lived with his partner. Her twin sisters Rachelle and Rene got into Vancouver right before dinner and actually carried the pizza inside while Charlie paid. Both sisters lived in Toronto, one training on the Olympic figure skating team and the other working in Parliament. Throughout the night, they joked about how cute Charlie was and how they were both single and didn’t mind dating someone younger. This annoyed Amelie but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Her third oldest brother, Theo, was the last to arrive, getting in way past dinner but before midnight. He lived in New York pursuing photography and had to finish a shoot before he could come home. Hearing this, Charlie asked him multiple questions about photography when they sat around their mother’s fireplace that night. It was nice to be able to gather as a family before the craziness of their relatives. French Canadian families were big, loud and full of personality, but Amelie knew Charlie understood this dynamic very well.

The next two days passed by in a blur with Charlie helping out wherever he could and sometimes locking himself in her mother’s office to do an interview or meeting here and there. Amelie was so grateful for him because every time she felt overwhelmed or that she was going to cry, he somehow made it to her side, comforting her and helping her be strong. Rachelle and Rene kept telling her to claim Charlie before they did, but Amelie would always insist that they were friends. But when her brothers got involved, Amelie couldn’t help but think that maybe her siblings were right. Maybe she should ask Charlie out, but how could she do that when her entire family was still dealing with the loss of her grandmother?

Just last night, Charlie sat up late into the evening comforting Amelie as she put the slideshow together on her Macbook. She could hardly look at the pictures or listen to the music without tearing up and having mini cry sessions on his shoulder, something he took in stride. It also didn’t help that she had consumed an entire bottle of wine...

In all honesty, Charlie couldn’t be more happy to be by her side at this moment. He knew how hard it was to lose a loved one, especially since he lost his grandmother before filming season one of Julie and the Phantoms. Being here for her was important to him and he wanted to show her that she could always come to him. When she passed out on his shoulder that night, he thought about how badly he wanted to be with her as he tucked her in bed. He loved how she snuggled into his shoulder as he finished up the slide show and he loved that she reached out for him and called his name in her sleep as he walked away. He kissed your forehead goodnight and hated the fact that he couldn’t just call you his.

A soft knock at the door interrupted Amelie’s day dream of her grandmother. She wiped the tears that have unexpectedly fallen from her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come in” her voice was shakier than she wanted it to be, but relief washed over her when Charlie walked in wearing a black dress shirt and tie. He smiled empathetically to her and approached her with open arms, something she gladly accepted. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in his chest, while he rested his head on top of hers.

“You ready?” Charlie held her tight as he asked this question. This would be the first and last time Amelie would be seeing her deceased grandmother.

“I should be asking you that question” she softly giggled. Charlie would be meeting all of her relatives today, including her annoying cousin Madeleine.

“You forget that I too have a big family. It’ll be fine. Plus, I’m here for you and not them” Amelie pulled away from the hug to stare him in the eyes, silently figuring whether now was a time to discuss her feelings or not. In the end, she decided against it and smiled softly at him, which he returned.

“Thank you for being here Char... It really means a lot” he chuckled and pulled her close for a second hug, something she would never tire hearing.

“Anything for you Ams. Anything.”

***

The funeral and mass went according to plan and soon enough they found themselves in the church basement with a slide show of her grandmother playing in the background, while guests visited the pastries and beverages being served. Amelie was occupied with the many questions her aunts and uncles had about her career and how she was doing, but she couldn’t help but worry about Charlie. Throughout her conversations with her relatives, she watched Charlie help out her mother with the pastries and beverages, stopping once in a while to entertain the younger cousins at the children’s table. She smiled at him gratefully for helping out so much, but grew a little nervous when her nosy aunts and uncles pulled him aside and started interviewing him. It seemed like he was handling himself fine, but Amelie felt even more confident when he made eye contact with her and winked.

“Well if it isn’t the Hollywood superstar.” Amelie could feel herself cringe at the sound of the voice. It was Madeline, Amelie’s cousin. They were the same age and same stature, but they couldn’t be more opposite. Madeline pursued modeling at a young age and still continued to do it, but for some reason, she always felt that everything was a competition. Amelie wanted to simply be cousins, but Madeline would take every opportunity to upstage her or show off to their aunts and uncles. Amelie didn’t really care, but the more she didn’t the more vicious Madeleine became. At one point in their lives, Madeleine had moved to Vancouver for more opportunities and ended up living with her family. This caused a lot of drama between the two of them, including Madeleine dating several of her exes and bringing them to family events.

“Hey Mads. Long time no see” Amelie forced herself to be nice and polite, even though she felt her cousin didn’t deserve it. Her black dress was a little too tight and a little too revealing for a funeral, but she wasn’t about to bring that up. “How have you been?”

“Oh you know, living it up in Paris, traveling all over Europe for different modeling jobs. It’s exhausting, but I’m sure you know of it” anyone could hear the sarcasm and apprehension in her voice. Her aunts awkwardly moved away, making up some excuse about visiting other family members so that they could catch up. “How does it feel to be working on a children’s show?”

“I mean, I love what I do, so I can’t complain” Amelie bit her tongue before she could say anything rude. She never understood why her cousin always felt the need to announce how much better she was over her.

“So... optimistic. What’s it feel like to settle?” she felt the blood rush to her face, starting to lose control of her emotions. This was not the place or time to have this conversation, yet Madeline persisted. She took a deep breath trying to level herself and forced a smile on her face. As she opened her mouth to reply, she felt a warm hand hug her lower back and the slight smell of cologne fill the air.

“Everything alright babe?” she blushed at the name and gesture from Charlie, who kissed the top of her head. Madeline flushed and her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh hi, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Charlie” he reached out his hand towards Madeline, keeping the other wrapped around Amelie.

“Madeline. It’s nice to meet you Charlie. You’re an actor from the show that she worked on, right? What are you doing here?” Amelie could hear the faintest trace of annoyance in her voice, and shook his hand. Charlie and Amelie looked at each other, a cocky smile on Charlie’s face and slight confusion on Amelie’s.

“I’m her boyfriend and I came to support her. I’m sure you’ve been dealing with the grief as well and I couldn’t let her go through this alone” part of what Charlie said was true, but Amelie couldn’t help but blush at the mention of boyfriend. No one had actually asked Charlie if they were dating, but a lot of relatives were beating around the bush. Apparently Charlie had said that rather loudly and some of the relatives started gossiping in a hushed voice.

“Wow Amelie. I didn’t know you had such good taste in men based on your past partners” Charlie laughed at the comment, something Madeline didn’t suspect.

“I wouldn’t say I’m good taste, but Ams if definitely a catch” he gloated and kissed her cheek, causing Amelie to blush furiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I actually came over because your mom needs some help” if there was one thing Amelie could count on, it would be Charlie’s ability to read a situation and get her out of it. “Shall we, my love?” she nodded and walked away from Madeline flushed and confused, but also really excited. He moved his hand from her back to her hand, softly dragging her away from the conversation.

“Boyfriend?” Amelie whispered to him, inferring the comments he made to Madeline.

“I know she ruffles your feathers, so why not ruffle hers?” Benoit interrupted Charlie, asking him if he could help put some of the tables from upstairs away. “You’re mom’s in the kitchenette, you can probably hide there for a bit. I got you a plate of pastries that I stashed in the back” she thanked him and watched him walk away with her brother. Before she could take another step, Rachelle and Rene linked arms with her on either side and rushed her into the kitchenette.

“So you’re dating now?!” Rene questioned and before Amelie could answer, Rachelle interrupted her. “When were you going to tell us this?!”

“About time” her mother scoffed, stirring another jug of fruit punch. “Okay you two, leave your sister alone to breathe for a second. Take these pitchers out to the table and find Theo. Make sure Tante Genevive hasn’t stolen him for a private photoshoot for Facebook” Amelie was grateful that her mother shooed the twins off and passed her the plate that Charlie put aside.

“Thanks Maman” her mother smiled smugly at her, moving about the kitchenette. “Please don’t say I told you so” her mother made the motion to zip her lips as she giddily made her way around the kitchen.

***

That evening, Amelie’s family stumbled through the front door of her mother’s house, everyone retiring to their rooms for a short moment of relaxation while their mother ordered take out for a late dinner. They had stayed behind to clean up with a few other relatives and put away the church tables and chairs. Charlie didn’t complain a single time and rushed to do whatever he could to help everyone out. Charlie followed Amelie up the stairs to her old bedroom and shut the door behind him as she plopped onto the bed. Part of Amelie did this was because she was tired, but the other part of her did it hopefully to avoid the conversation they were about to have. Charlie quietly sat beside her on the bed and played with her hair, something she absolutely loved.

“So, about today...” this conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

“It was really nice of you to stand up for me but you didn’t have to. I have no problem telling my family it was a small misunderstanding. It should stop them from blabbering to the media” She sat up and Charlie looked incredulously at Amelie confused at what she was saying.

“Ams, I don’t think you get it” again, she interrupted him before he could continue.

“No I do, I get it. You’re an amazing friend Char and you didn’t have to risk the rumours for-” she didn’t complete the thought because Charlie’s lips were suddenly on hers and she completely melted into them. It was like this tension that she never acknowledged left her shoulders, making her feel like she was floating.

“Do you understand now?” he searched her eyes for some sort of confirmation. “I really like you Amelie and I’ve liked you for a long time, but I’ve always thought you wanted to be friends”

“I wanted to be friends?! I thought you friend zoned me first!” he gave her a look for interrupting him. “Sorry”

“Regardless of what happened, being with you here and helping you and your family throughout all of this made me want to be a part of your life so much more. I want to be more than your friend. I know this is a bad time to say this, but I don’t think I can keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you” he held her hand in his and drew nearer to her again. “I really want to be with you if you’ll have me”

She closed the gap between the two of them and kissed him this time, something which Charlie gladly accepted. The two shared a simple but passionate kiss, as if they were confessing two years of secret feelings to each other. A bang at the door startled them.

“Put your pants on! Maman wants you guys to go pick up the take out!” Benoit yelled from behind the door. The two flushed at the comment and heard the snickers and giggles from the other siblings.

“So...boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines

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what-the-witch-stuff · 3 years

Text

Allright. Elliott thread that nobody asked for. Part 4

The words you read seem to be some alien gibberish? Try these first:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Don’t worry guys. It will be over soon, I promise.

Bevore we start: This happened yesterday.

And I basically turned into that iCarly gif, where she’s on the Computer, sippin’ her drink and goes: interesting.

Because look who we have here. Our future husband acting all self-aware? Right after I assumed in my last post that he never talks about the possibility of his failure...

Elliott, do you know that I talk shit about you on Tumblr?

Please stop breaking the 4th wall...

To safe at least some of my ‘credibility’, he followed this up with something along the lines of:

“No, no...I am not fishing for compliments. Which does not mean I don't appreciate them ;) “.

Sure. Whatever.

In comparison to that:

A few in-game days previously, I had a cut-scene with Leah, where the player can suggest that she should organise an art show. And there, Leah openly communicated her fears of ppl not liking her art. I was surprised about how open she was, given that it was probably her 2nd heart event or something (?). It's interesting, how Leah (who I perceived to be more reserved than Elliott), was so willing to let us know about her insecurities. Meanwhile, Elliot seems to brush these thoughts aside rather quickly and returns to his nonchalant, graceful self.

I always thought that from the two of them, it might be Elliott who is more vocal about his emotions. But now, Elliott doesn't seem to wear his heart on his sleeves as much as I thought he would. Which changed the way I think about him quite a bit. Maybe he is more likely to hide behind platitudes and a self-assuring smile, after all.

And what can we take from this, when we would want to write, let’s say a scene with Leah/Elliott friendship dynamic?

What do you guys think?

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

Anyways, before I was so disgracefully exposed, I was roasting Elliott’s life choices. To which I now gladly return to.

You see, the "issue" I see with Elliott is, that he plays into a trope:

The brooding hermitic author, who turned his back onto society in favour of finding inspiration in nature.

While this might sound thrilling and "romantic", we know that Elliott is not the best candidate to conform to this lifestyle. Just compare, how we as the player, manage to form quite strong relationships with everyone in Pelikan Town just by talking to them regularly.

We see Elliott outside the beach-area quite often. But aside from Leah, he does not seem to interact with anyone much. I don't know if there are statements about Elliott made by other characters, to have some inkling on how they feel about him. But its quite remarkable, how all other friendships outside to his connection with Leah, are not explicitly known as canon (?).

After a whole year living in this town, previous to our arrival, I would suggest, that Elliott might still be very much an outsider. He even remarks how, with our arrival, it will be nice, to no longer be "the new guy" in town.

But the problem with that might have been Elliott's reservedness, to begin with. Polite, but yet, maybe, quite impersonal. All pleasantries and platitudes as mentioned above. It all plays into Elliott's refusal to experience the comforts of a normal lifestyle in favour of pursuing his art.

And I love how Elliott just brushes that aside as if its nothing. I'd really love to know: what would have been his plan b, if his debut failed?

Worst case cenario: What would he'd done, if he ended up stranded in Pelikan Town, penniless and unsuccessful?

Where would he go? Is there a place he can return to? A previous home, previous friends?

I don't think so.

But, dedicated, impuslive, sweet, dumb Elliott just thought to himself:

“I can do that. How bad can it be???, it will be fi~ne.It will be marvellous!

Authentic, truly!

It will be superb pictouresque and that is all I need to write my novel....”

Thanks Yoba. You’ll keep doing that please.

And then we also have interactions of the likes of:

“People have scaped a living off the sea for thousands of years....

I just go to the grocery store.”

A different thought I had on Elliott kind of plays into what I already said previously. But I will adress it as its own topic.

The downside of Elliott’s ego.

As much as we explored the rather whacky / chaotic elements of his character and how he does stupid shit for prestige itself, it is interesting to see what happens when the player challenges his self-dramatisation.

I keep re-thinking if and to what degree Elliott can laugh about himself.

He is not one for self-deprecating humour, I think.

I can imagine that to be more Shane’s thing.

We see different scenarios, in which Elliott reacts differently to things not going his way. One of the positives is the whole “A tiny crab made a home inside his coat pocket”- story. I have seen two interpretations of this scene. And both are dependent on the tone, in which you read his dialogue. One group thinks he is just complaining yet again.

On the other hand, you could read it more like:

“My, look what we have here. Can you believe that [y/name]?!“.

I think that Elliott does not appear to be angry or annoyed at all in that scenario, too. He could have vented to the player, how he needs a new coat, now. But he simply leaves it at that. And you know what?

But, there are other times, where Elliott reacts negatively to the player not doing what he wants you to do. Meaning: your reaction to him or your behaviour in a specific situation. Let's look at his 2nd (?) heart event at the Stardrop Saloon. He comes up to the bar, finds himself in the mood for company, and orders wine for you and ale for himself.

New Headcanon:

That little crab still lives there! It will probably live there long after you two get married. And he will feed it scraps from the dinner table even though you ask him not to.

Whatever...Sounds Cute.

My first reaction to that was: “aw, wHaT a GeNtLemAn!!!”. My second reaction was my inner feminist having a temper tantrum because: “how dare a man, to assume what I want to drink!”

New Headcanon on Elliott and gender roles, anyone? Or is it given, that with him being a good old fashioned lover boy, his expectation on any relationship dynamic might be more traditional?

As much as I find Elliott charming and all, this could be a great red flag and, again, beautiful material for character-conflict. Maybe Elliott needs to learn to not take everything at face value. Maybe he needs to learn, how to take a joke. Especially those made at his expense.

However, when the question arises, what the two of you should drink on, he will not laugh if you say “your doom”.

This is not something he sees as sarcasm or as a joke. In fact, you lose 50 friendship points! Like holy shit. That in itself is not much, but its a game-penalty. He is actively reacting negatively toward you. This is one of the few times, where your decision actively has an impact on the friendship-metre. Of course, that statement could be delivered in a non-joking matter. Which then justifies his reaction.... sure.

But even the fact that Elliott chooses, to not downplay or gloss-over your comment, leaves me with the following interpretation:

He hoped for a charming, flirtatious interaction. All you had to do, was to play along. But you ruined it.

Just imagine a situation with a little bit of miss-communication and a version of Elliott that is a little too proud for his own good and *chef's kiss* we have drama.

Me to Elliott and Farmer-OC: fight! fight! fight! fight! :D

All of you reading right now:

omg can't you just chill??? We are here for the fluff :(((

Also: depending on how it's written, that could be one of Elliott's major character flaws. The one that is not cute at all!

__________________________

I wanted to take some jabs at Elliott's likes and dislikes. But as it turned out: Yes, you can turn Duck feathers into quills. I had this funny headcanon that Elliott wanted to be extra special by choosing duck feathers as his preferred writing instrument. And I was all like: “use a pen!!”.

But then I found out about the Unobtainable Weapons-List and Elliott’s pen is one of them. Okay, whatever.

And then I asked google how to make quills. And while duck feathers are not the preferred or most popular option, there is also nothing that would speak against it, as long as the feather’s shaft is durable enough. So that theory has flown out of the window pretty quickly as well.

The only thing that comes to my mind instead is, how Elliott would still need a digital manuscript for publishing. But me screaming: “Where is your Laptop Elliott??? You need a computer! Its the 21 century!!!” is not half that funny anymore.

I guess I’ll end it here.

I hope you enjoyed this completely useless stream of consciousness.

I will now continue playing Stardew Valley and indulge in all my other quarantine-born obsessions.

I wish you a wonderful day and happy farming.

#stardew valley #stardew elliott #sdv #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #sdv elliott #elliott stardew valley #stardew valley elliott #elliott sdv #elliott stardew #it ends there #i am done #byebye #sdv fanfic

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

Text

Entwined: Family Outtakes Ch. 2

Summary: An outtake that centers around some worries and family feels for Hook and Emma as they confront something we all must at some point, and the first appearance of Hope Swan-Jones in our little universe.

Rating: All chapters range G - T (to be safe)

AO3 - FF

For @teamhook

Chapter Two: Falling Behind

Bleariness clouded Emma's vision as she woke, eyelids blinking away the late morning sunlight that streamed through the window and lit the soft whites and creams of their bedroom. She rolled the kinks from her neck and stretched, enjoying the crisp coolness of the sheets against her sleep warmed skin.

She must have overslept – the house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Sunday, and even though it had been years since Storybrooke had been disrupted by anything more villainous than teenage rebellion, something about the peacefulness pushed her into abrupt wakefulness. She lurched upright in bed, snatching her robe from the back of the door and wrapping it around herself as she stepped into the hallway.

The sound of something sizzling in the kitchen soothed any immediate worry, but still, she peeked into Hope's room to make sure everything looked normal – her comforter made and folded neatly below the pillows, as it always was when either of her dads oversaw the morning routine. It was definitely a far cry from when Emma was in charge and the entire wad of blankets and sheets was left knotted at the foot of the bed, a tangle-haired little girl hopping up and down on one foot while pulling on socks and trying to brush her teeth.

She let the smell of bacon lead her quickly down the stairs, the floors cool against her bare feet. Her eyes caught the clock and she frowned – it was earlier than she expected her husbands to be back and making breakfast on a Sunday. Usually they were somewhere between Granny's and the docks with Hope until at least nine.

“Hey,” she murmured, coming around the corner into the kitchen and seeing Hook bent over the stove, the last pieces of bacon dropping onto a paper towel lined plate from the fork in his hand, neither Killian nor Hope anywhere in sight. “Just us this morning?”

“Aye,” he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes in the way that Emma loved.

“What's wrong?” she asked, concern rising up the back of her throat as she moved behind him, standing on her tiptoes and resting her chin on his shoulder, her arms encircling his waist – taking what reassurance she could from his solid presence.

“Everything's fine,” he insisted, his smile broadening as he flicked off the stove and dropped the fork beside the spread of bacon and eggs, turning in her arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her hair before meeting her eyes. “I just thought today I'd stay in and take care of breakfast. Killian and the wee lass should be back from 'pirate practice' soon enough.”

“Well, I'm glad you're here,” Emma teased, her hands traveling along his sides and sweeping upward to find the open edges of his button down, her fingers curling around the fabric and settling in his generous chest hair, silver and dusky against his tan skin, “and I'm not gonna lie, bacon that's already made is a bonus too.”

She pressed her toes against the cool floor and sought his lips, humming against them when she tasted the salty sweetness of maple bacon.

“Look's like someone was stealing pieces out of the pan again.”

“Pirate,” he reminded her, his brace and fingers pulling her more firmly against his chest as his mouth slanted hungrily over her own, their tongues rolling together with practiced ease – what Emma had intended to be a lazy, morning kiss stoking that familiar need in them both.

He backed her insistently against the kitchen table, fingers tugging at the drawstring of her robe as she pushed into him, thoughts of breakfast fading as she considered the other things they could be doing on the table, but her movements stopped suddenly when the press of her hand against his shoulder was met with a hiss of pain. Hook stepped back from her, his own fingers moving to soothe the hurt she hadn't known was there.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he sighed, an edge to his voice that she didn't often hear. “Simply a stiff neck this morning, love.”

“I'm sorry,” she faltered, wanting to simply place her palm against his hurt and make it disappear, her intention clear enough in her face that he pulled back, taking her hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. “You should have woken me up. I can just – ”

“No, Emma, it's fine. I can't have you –” he paused, placing a breath of a kiss against her knuckles, looking for all the world as if he wanted to pull her into his arms again, but was afraid of what moving too swiftly might do. “Perhaps I'll just set the table and the strain will work itself out on its own.”

Letting her hand fall back to her side, she watched as he crossed the kitchen and opened the cabinet, pulling out plates for the four of them.

“Is that why you didn't go with Hope and Killian to the docks?”

It had become something of a longstanding tradition for Hope, Sunday morning with her dads. They would stop at Granny's hot cocoa and then take in the cool sea air, some mornings spent sharing stories and others spent sparring – something their daughter lovingly referred to as 'pirate practice', all three of them armed with blunt wooden swords.

It was the first time she'd ever seen Hook miss one.

The plates clinked against the table as he sat them down heavily.

“Aye,” he rumbled, fingers scratching behind his ear before running through his mop of hair, the black holding much more silver now than it had six years earlier when he'd tumbled into their lives and hearts.

“You know that Hope doesn't care how she spends time with you. You're her father. That's all that matters. She just wants to be with you, whether you're swinging a sword or not,” Emma pointed out softly, watching him carefully as his jaw tightened, insecurity warring with what he knew in his heart. It wouldn't be the first time that Emma had seen it – the way he'd started frowning at himself in the mirror, silently mourning the slow march of grey across his head and scruff. “It doesn't make a difference to any of us.”

“It makes a difference to me, Emma,” he ground out, turning abruptly and gripping the edge of the counter as he stared unseeingly out the window into the yard beyond.

“Jones,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and pressing her body to his back, feeling every tight cord of tension running through him, “Killian...”

She didn't call him Killian often – the three of them had decided early on that it was simply too confusing for everyone – that Jones would do, or Hook – but every now and then Killian would slip from her lips when he needed to be called back to them, when he needed reminding of who he was and who they both saw and loved.

He exhaled heavily, letting his worries fall from his lips as he relaxed into her.

“I know it doesn't make a difference to our little girl, Emma, but...this was the first morning that I woke and truly felt the age that I see in the mirror – and then I watched Hope bound down the porch with her sword already swinging, Killian at her heels and I just...I don't want to fall behind. I feel like I'm falling behind.”

“Hey,” she murmured, urging him around to face her, palm against his rough jaw, “that's not possible. We're family. We're in this together, and that won't ever change – whether you're running after her or not. One day she isn't going to want sword fights and treasure hunts, or someone to draw a smiley face on her pancakes with whipped cream – she's gonna want a shoulder to cry on when her heart gets broken...”

A low growl hummed in the back of his throat, his jaw twitching beneath Emma's fingers at the thought of anyone hurting his little girl.

“...or someone who can look over her shoulder when she paints and tell her just the right shades of purple and red to use for a sunset. We're all gonna get older and change, but that doesn't mean anyone is falling behind – we'll just be moving on to new adventures...together.”

“And what of us, Emma? Five years from now when there's only gray hair and wrinkles, when I've grown softer than I used to be, what will you and Killian think then?”

“None of that is going to change how much I want you, how much I love you...” her fingers found the place where his heart was beating solidly in his chest, pressing firmly and reminding him of just how they'd gotten here. “None of that is going to change how much Killian loves you.”

“Aye,” he murmured, fingers looping with hers as they both remembered the fear that day had carried – the day they put an end to his curse entirely – all of it washed away by hope and love and leaving them standing here. “You'll have to forgive the insecurities of an old pirate, darling.”

“Our pirate,” she chided. “Besides, did you want me any less after I'd added a few more stretch marks to my stomach and my hips got wider – when my boobs sagged a little more after years of nursing?”

“Your breasts, Emma, are still perfect works of art,” Hook promised, looking affronted at the mere notion that they were any less beautiful than they'd once been.

In fact, he loved them all the more for having watched her nurture and care for their child, feeding her through the long hours of the night and comforting her when the trials of the day were simply too much for a little one to stand. That type of love – a mother's love – it was something Alice had never known as a baby, and he worshiped his wife a little more each day for having given that gift to Hope. There wasn't a mark left on her body that he didn't cherish, that wasn't a reminder of the depth of her heart.

To him, she was a goddess.

“If you can still look at me and see beauty in all these stretch marks – then you can't doubt it's the same when we look at you – and some more gray hair and a rum belly won't change that, not ever.”

“Well, let's not allow things to deteriorate to that point, shall we?” Hook muttered, his cheeks reddening at the remembrance of Emma's story – of her meeting with aging Captain who no longer existed, a future that he'd thankfully avoided by following the Seer's advice and seeking out a small town called Storybrooke, a town that held not only the promised end of his curse, but the rest of his happiness for days to come.

“I'm just saying,” Emma whispered, her fingers dragging along his skin as she pressed the smile of her lips to his own, “it still wouldn't matter, Jones.”

He swallowed her surprised gasp as his hand slipped into the loosened folds of her robe, calloused palm glancing along the warmth of her skin before the sound of the door flying inward had them both pulling apart – the stillness of the house shattered by the return of their yet-to-be-tired-out daughter.

“Hope,” Emma sighed, tightening her robe and turning just in time to catch the tornado of long, dark locks and flailing limbs running headlong into her arms, barely leaning her head out of the way in time to keep from getting whacked with an errant wooden sword. “What have I said about not throwing the door open? You're gonna break it down one of these days.”

“And you know the rule about swords in the house, my love,” Hook reminded her, plucking the wooden toy from her hands and placing it on the counter. “Now, where's Dad? Did he make it home, or is he still outside bemoaning the loss you surely handed him?”

“Let's not be hasty – I wouldn't go so far as to call it a loss,” Killian insisted, stepping through the door and easing it closed behind him, his own wooden sword dropping into the umbrella stand near the entrance. “Our little lass put to use some very impressive evasive maneuvers – quite insistent on hurrying home this morning.”

“Did she now?” Hook laughed, “and what could have been the cause of that?”

“We missed you, Papa,” Hope explained, reaching out and squirming until Hook plucked her out of Emma's arms, jogging her into a seat on his hip. “And bacon.”

“Ah, now we get to the truth of the matter,” he murmured, placing a lingering kiss on their daughter's curls, nearly as dark as he and Killian's, though her face was the tiny, spitting image of Emma. “I suppose it's a good thing I made bacon then – because I missed you as well.”

“It was a quiet morning without you,” Killian added, still shucking his jacket as he met Emma's cheek with a kiss and then leaned over their daughter to brush his lips against Hook's as well. “Despite this one being up well before the sun, I seem to have failed at running her ragged even in the slightest – we'll have to take her out for some more sparring this afternoon.”

“Aye, that we will.”

“That all sounds great,” Emma agreed, grabbing the abandoned stack of plates and placing them down neatly in front of the chairs at the table, “but I woke up to the smell of bacon and still haven't gotten to eat any – so let's make plans after breakfast, sound good?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Hope yelled, her words devolving into a stream of giggles that she buried in Hook's chest as both her fathers protested that Emma certainly didn't hold the qualifications to captain a ship.

“Mama's captain of the house – the house!” their daughter squealed, trying desperately to bat away Killian's fingers as he tickled her sides, eventually settling for throwing herself out of Hook's arms and running to the other side of the kitchen, the table a staunch line of defense against any further onslaught. “I've heard her say it, so it's true,” she insisted, blue eyes glimmering with the type of conviction only a four-year old can muster.

“Well, you must be right then, lass,” Killian relented, raising his hand and hook in surrender before pulling out a chair. “Now, come, sit and eat – before the Captain has us all walk the plank. You know how grumpy your mum gets when she's hungry.”

“I do not get grumpy,” Emma growled playfully, the mock indignation in her voice doing nothing to quell the smile lines around her mouth or the soft crinkle at the corners of her eyes.

Hope jumped into the seat Killian had pulled aside for her, eyebrows raised halfway toward her hairline as she watched Hook carry over the plates filled with fresh eggs and bacon, her feet kicking the underside of the chair in a steady rhythm.

“Can we go to the park this afternoon?” she asked, two pieces of bacon already gripped tightly in her small hand before any of her parents had even noticed her snatch them from the plate. “I want to have a treasure hunt.”

“Of course we can,” Hook smiled, sitting down and watching as their daughter munched happily on her bacon, his gaze drifting to Killian as he doled out eggs and Emma as she made her own plate, stealing some bacon from the pile that had somehow doubled in size on Hope's plate.

Emma's eyes lifted, meeting his own over the table – her green gaze so filled with warmth and love that he immediately felt foolish for the fear that had overtaken him that morning, for thinking that something so simple as time could ever make them drift apart, could somehow make them less than what they were and had always been destined to be – a family.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop

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#Captain Swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #sailtoafarawayland #entwined #love4teamhook #emma swan #killian jones #wish hook #hope swan jones

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disastermages · 3 years

Text

this fic is in the same universe as this fic [ao3 link]

[ao3 link for this fic]

The sun bears down and burns at the top of Baoshan Sanren’s veiled hat as she walks, her robes fluttering out behind her. She’d thought about leaving the mountain in white, but that might have invited questions, so she’d left in the neutral colors of a rogue cultivator, vowing to her remaining disciples that she would return.

She wouldn’t return shortly, the world had changed in the 50 years she’d locked herself away and she meant to see it, but she would return.

None of them dared argue with her anyway.

Kneeling down slowly by a stream, Baoshan Sanren sighs and pulls the hat from her head before she sets it aside and dips her hands into the water. She wouldn’t stop for long, long enough to fill the gourd at her waist and then she would keep moving, until she reached the next village or town that needed her help.

The first handful of water is rubbed over her face, her fingers pressing into her own features while she wipes the sweat and dirt away, the second handful of water passes right through her fingers when she hears the warbling cry of some infant.

Baoshan Sanren looks up and down both sides of the stream and sees no one but the weeds and tall grass surrounding her, but the crying doesn’t stop and she’s back on her feet in a second, her hat held low in her hand.

It wouldn’t take her long to draw her sword if it were nothing but a trick, or some spirit pretending to be an infant because it thought she was an easy mark, but she doesn’t expect it when she nearly trips over the baby, the toe of her boot catching on the woven basket the tiny thing had been set into.

She doesn’t pick the baby up, but she does watch as it fusses and fights against the blanket swaddled around it. “What are you doing by yourself?” Baoshan Sanren asks the baby, as if she thought it could answer her. The baby’s face is red and frustrated, and Baoshan Sanren is almost certain that children this young shouldn’t be left alone in the sun for longer than a few moments.

It doesn’t take her long to find a stick to force into the soft ground, angling it over the basket and the baby so she can drop her hat over it. “Is that better?” She asks as the shade covers the baby’s face. She’s never been good with babies, they fought her whenever she tried to hold them, Lan Yi had been better, and she’d enjoyed it, but those thoughts wouldn’t offer Baoshan Sanren anything helpful right now.

The shade of her hat seems to push aside most of the baby’s fussing though, now it only babbles and coos, still kicking against the red blanket that surrounds it. The baby’s parents must be somewhere nearby, Baoshan Sanren decides, sitting down next to the baby and burying her hands in the grass. The baby’s parents must be nearby, and they must be farmers tending to their fields, they’d only put their child here while they did something that babies either couldn’t or shouldn’t be around. They would come back for it soon, Baoshan Saren decides, and she would sit next to the baby while it waited.

An hour passes and Baoshan Sanren neither hears nor sees anyone coming, no matter which way she turns her head, one of her hands letting go of grass that she’d ripped up by now to rest it on top of the baby’s chest. “They must have loved you, look at how tightly you’re swaddled, they even put you in a basket to keep the dirt off of you.” She isn’t sure who she’s speaking for, herself or the baby, she only knows that she is speaking.

Another hour passes, and the baby begins to fuss again, against the weight of her hand now, too. Lan Yi would have picked the baby up right away, but Baoshan Sanren tries to hush it for a moment longer before she throws another, hurried glance around herself. The baby’s parents wouldn’t be pleased if they saw some strange woman handling their child, who they undoubtedly loved so dearly.

The baby only quiets minutely as Baoshan Sanren picks it up and presses it against her chest, only to begin rooting a moment later. “What are you doing?” Baoshan Sanren asks the child, bouncing it slightly in her arms, “I’m not your mother, I haven’t got any milk for you.” The child’s mother would be back shortly, Baoshan Sanren reminds herself, holding a woman she’s never met to a promise she’d made to herself.

Lan Yi would know how to stop the baby from crying, even if she couldn’t offer it milk, a mean, unhelpful part of Baoshan Sanren’s mind offers up, trying and failing to dig sharpened nails into a hardened heart.

Another hour and a half passes before Baoshan Sanren stands, slowly and carefully with the baby in one arm and one hand taking up her hat again. She has no choice but to leave the basket. “There are farms here, you’re not so small that you can’t have cow’s milk, are you?” The baby only whimpers in response, a spot of drool wetting the front of Baoshan Sanren’s robes.

She walks a mile and a half and knocks on three doors before she gets an answer at the fourth, but by then the baby has begun to fuss and cry again. “Might I buy some milk from you, Madam?” Baoshan Sanren asks in what she hopes is a polite voice, her eyes not leaving the face of the old woman who answers the door.

“Such a little one with you, your milk hasn’t dried up already has it, Dear? I have some medicines that might help if it has.” The old woman murmurs as she steps aside to allow Baoshan Sanren entry into her home. The old woman is polite enough not to stare when Baoshan Sanren has to duck her head to clear the doorway.

“This child isn’t mine, Madam,” Baoshan Sanren explains, pushing the hat down to rest between her shoulders, “I only just found it in the field by the river.” There was a chance that the old woman knew the baby’s parents, that she might get the baby back to its parents and out of Baoshan Sanren’s most likely clumsy hands.

Her words only make the old woman’s face fall for a moment, though, a surprised frown crossing a face softened by age. “Just a moment, Dear.” The old woman asks, leaving Baoshan Sanren to stand in the middle of the house with the baby in her arms while the old woman calls out to her husband, ordering him to bring a list of things, milk being one of them.

“Might I see the little one, Dear? I’ve been a midwife in these parts since I was your age, I might be able to place the baby’s parents for you.”

Baoshan Sanren tries not to seem too eager to hand the child over to someone who might know it, to someone who might know who the baby actually belongs with. She tries not to think about the way the baby had jerked back towards her when the old woman had first taken it into her hands.

The old woman is skillful in the way she unwraps the baby from it’s swaddling, allowing the red blanket to drape down her arms while Baoshan Sanren can only watch with rapt attention.

“I see.” The old woman finally says, her face darkening as the baby wraps the whole of one hand around her thin, boney finger. “This is the youngest daughter of the Guo family, I just delivered her nine months ago last week.” Without the binding of her blanket, the baby is free to kick and play as she wants, pulling the old woman’s finger into her mouth for just a second, and then abandoning it.

“Is something the matter?” Baoshan Sanren asks carefully, her eyes dropping down to the child’s face.

“I’m not one for gossip, Dear,” The old woman explains, beginning to rock the child despite the serious look still on her face, “but it’s dreadful business, I don’t dare repeat it.” A pit opens up in Baoshan Sanren’s stomach then, her hands twitching at her sides to reach for the baby again, but she stops herself.

Before she can ask, and before the old woman can say anything else, her husband comes into the room, a box under one arm and a cane in the other hand, his back bent with age.

“Should I leave her with you, then?” Baoshan Sanren asks, trying not to think of the way the baby turns and looks at her, one tiny, sun reddened hand reaching out, though she dares not take it yet.

The old woman opens her mouth, but the old man speaks instead, “Our children are grown, Young Lady, we’re much too old to be raising another one.” Baoshan Sanren nearly tells him that she’s older than him, but she bites her tongue instead, watching as the midwife pushes past her husband with a pointed glare, still mindful of the baby in her arms.

“Ignore my husband.” The old woman advises, though not unfondly, when Baoshan Sanren looks into her eyes, “He’s spoken in such a way all his life, but he tells you the truth.” As she speaks the old woman sets the baby onto a table and steps away just long enough to take the box out from underneath the old man’s arm before she beckons Baoshan Sanren over.

She goes to great pains to slowly show Baoshan the proper ways of cleaning the baby and changing her diapers while her husband moves to heat the milk behind them.

By the time the baby is swaddled again, the milk is ready and Baoshan Sanren is all but pushed into a chair and shown the proper way to feed and burp the baby.

“You’re sunburned from sitting with her.” The old woman states quietly, watching as the baby falls asleep in Baoshan Sanren’s arms, thick, dark eyelashes fanned against her tiny, round cheeks. “I would not allow an outsider to take any of our children normally, you must understand, Dear, but you sat with her long enough to burn under the sun, and then you had enough sense to bring her here.”

Baoshan Sanren prays that the old midwife doesn’t see the way she bites at her lower lip or the way her arms tighten instinctively around the baby.

“You are a cultivator, are you not? All I ask of you, is that you take this child with you, and see to it that she is looked after well. Train her in martial arts or don’t, but she is safer with you than she is here, with me.”

Baoshan Sanren opens her mouth to answer, but stops herself when the child nuzzles into her bosom, trying to stretch through the swaddling. “She is a lively child when she is properly looked after.” The old woman promises, her thumb brushing over the baby’s cheek.

“I’ve never taken care of a baby before.” Baoshan Sanren excuses, a click in her throat as she blinks something away.

“My husband and I will send supplies with you, but if you find yourself troubled with questions or uncertainty, ask any one grandmother or auntie on the street, and five more will jump forward with their own pieces of advice.” The old woman says, a slow smile warming her face. She was speaking from experience, then.

Breathing in deeply, Baoshan Sanren only takes another moment to look into the baby’s face before stroking her own knuckle down the length of that tiny cheek. “I will take her with me, Madam.” Baoshan Sanren decides finally, her eyes closing for just a moment as she allows a tiny fist to close around her finger. “May I ask her name?”

“The name you choose for her will be worth more to her than the name that was given before.” The old woman’s smile does not waver as she speaks, though her eyes turn softer and kinder.

Wetting her lips with her tongue, Baoshan Sanren feels short of breath as her hand rubs over the blanket around the baby. “Cangse.”

It had been the first word to come to mind, but Baoshan Sanren feels no need to take it back and try again.

“Cangse” The old woman agrees, nodding sagely.

#the untamed #mdzs #mdzs fic #baoshan sanren #cangse sanren #bssr #cssr #some people?? return to a series that gave them joy?? to cope??

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