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oreoambitions · 1 year

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The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

There is a sort of comedic timing, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still holding her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

#this is a repost #but I can't find my original post to repost it #so #here you go #xmas #ficlet #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #xmas au

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

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💜 MASTERLIST 💜

💙 - Request

❤️‍🔥 - Contains Smut/Mature

💞 PAST EVENTS 💞

Val’s “Got Dat Love Inem” Valentine’s Event

JJK

job!character masterlist ❤️‍🔥

teasing during sex (gojo, geto, sukuna, toji, nanami) ❤️‍🔥

Gojo Satoru

Party Pooper (Gojo x fem reader)

Office Shambolics (Gojo x Geto x fem reader)

Expensive Gifts (Gojo x fem reader) 💙

JJK Men Turn Ons and Offs 💙

Geto Suguru

Office Shambolics (Gojo x Geto x fem reader)

JJK Men Turn Ons and Offs 💙

Toji Fushiguro

home and away (coworker!toji x fem!reader) ❤️‍🔥

JJK Men Turn Ons and Offs 💙

Nanami Kento

JJK Men Turn Ons and Offs 💙

AOT

job!character masterlist ❤️‍🔥

Eren Jaeger

Gentleman’s Kryptonite (Eren x fem reader)❤️‍🔥

Eren’s Insta spam (Eren x black!fem reader)

pt. 1

pt. 2

pt. 3 💙

Deliveryman!eren x reader

In Memory of Me (Eren x fem!reader) 💙❤️‍🔥

Headcanons:

Using your products 💙

Reiner Braun

Play Housewife for A Bit (Old money!Reiner x fem reader)

PURE/HONEY (Reiner x fem reader) ❤️‍🔥

The Guy at The Till (Reiner x fem reader)

Part 1 ❤️‍🔥

Part 2 ❤️‍🔥

Band drummer!Reiner x fem reader

Reiner’s Insta spam (Reiner x black!fem reader)

Husband!Reiner x fem black!reader

The Landlord’s Son (Christmas special: Tumblr Exclusive) ❤️‍🔥

Home for New Years — Husband!Reiner x fem!reader ❤️‍🔥

KU LO SA — Reiner x reader

It’s Everyone’s Game — Southern!Reiner x Fem!reader 💙

farmer!Reiner x fem!reader 💙❤️‍🔥

Headcanons:

Waking up next to him

Dom!reiner in bed ❤️‍🔥

Sub!reiner in bed ❤️‍🔥

AOT men Facials pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥

Teacher!Reiner x reader

Jean Kirstein

AOT men Facials pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥

Levi Ackerman

AOT men Facials pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥

Onyankopon

AOT men Facials pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥

For a Time Such as This — Onyankopon x fem!reader ❤️‍🔥

What’s Mine is Mine — Onyankopon x fem!reader ❤️‍🔥

Postcard for the Road — Onyankopon x fem!Reader 💙

In Words I struggle to Express — Bassist!Onyankopon x Singer!fem Reader

No Self-Control — Pilot!Onyankopon x Air Hostess fem!Reader ❤️‍🔥

Triple N — Onyankopon x Fem!Reader 💙❤️‍🔥

We Really Shouldn’t…But — Onyankopon x fem!Reader ❤️‍🔥

Feet kink — Onyankopon x fem!Reader 💙❤️‍🔥

Nerd!Onyankopon x fem!reader 💙❤️‍🔥

Nerd!Onyankopon x fem!reader PT 2 💙❤️‍🔥

dilf!Onyankopon x fem!reader 💙

Zeke Jaeger

Rent-A-Boyfriend — Zeke x fem!reader

It Was An Accident!!! — Zeke x Eren x Jean x fem!Reader ❤️‍🔥

JJBA

job!character masterlist ❤️‍🔥

Jotaro Kujo

The Girl Who Works at The Diner (Jotaro x fem reader) 💙

Jotaro x Goth!fem reader 💙

soft!jotaro x accidental pregnancy!fem reader

single!father jotaro x fem reader

6789998212 (jotaro x black!fem reader) 💙❤️‍🔥

ARSENIC (jotaro x black!fem reader) 💙❤️‍🔥

My Protector (jotaro x reader) 💙

New Years and A Hint of Blue Magic - Jotaro x black!fem reader 💙

New Muse (Jotaro x black!fem reader) 💙

Size kink + bulging prompt (jotaro x fem!reader) 💙❤️‍🔥

When Life Gives you Pastries (single dad!Jotaro x baker!reader) 💙

Fear is for the (supposed) weak! (jotaro x reader) 💙

Stay (so i have you with me) — fwb!jotaro x black fem!reader 💙❤️‍🔥

Headcanons:

Mornings with jotaro (christmas edition)

Jean Pierre Polnareff

Everything, Everything for You My Dear (Polnareff x gn reader) 💙

Josuke Higashikata (Part 4)

Ready Player One (josuke x black!fem reader) 💙

Giorno Giovanna

Never Would Have Thought (giorno x black!fem reader) 💙

New Dawnings (giorno x black!fem reader) 💙

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio x Goth!fem reader 💙

Team Bucciarati

Honey (Team Bucciarati x reader) 💙

MHA

job!character masterlist ❤️‍🔥

Keigo Takami

Just Say It — Hawks x fem!reader ❤️‍🔥

Daddy’s Home — BD!Hawks x fem!reader

MARVEL

Miguel O’Hara

Maybe it’s Foreboding (Or Not) — Miguel x fem!reader

Change and Her Consorts — Miguel x fem!Reader ❤️‍🔥

#jotaro x reader #eren x reader #reiner x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #geto x reader #attack on titan #jojos bizarre adventure #jujutsu kaisen #jotaro x black reader #eren x black reader #reiner x black reader #gojo x black reader #jotaro smut #eren smut #reiner smut #gojo smut #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader

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beerecordings · 6 months

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i have seen people put together some background canon info about the egos and their appearances over the years, which is awesome and a huge feat, but I just wanted to compile some popular headcanons and fanon interpretations that might be relevant if someone new was trying to get into the fandom, or even that we may see references for in new canon. it's our CULTURE okay??

Chase having two kids: when Sean released CHASE he announced that Chase canonically has/had one child, but in Chase's original video he referred to Stacy taking the "kids," which lead to the popular interpretation that Chase had two young children. you might still see this around

Henrik's backstory: likewise, Sean used to make occasional references to Henrik having an ex-wife and possibly kids. some people consider this canon and others don't, because it was just in random gameplay vids, but you might see it referenced

Anti is a turtle: an OG ego meme. when Anti says "I am eternal" in Say Goodbye, it sounds like "I am a turtle." Sean saw this and reacted to it in a vid, and now there are occasional turtle references

Queer egos: obviously this is tumblr and queer headcanons abound. in my experience, the most popular interpretations include Jackie being trans and Marvin being mlm. you will see this frequently in the fandom

JJ's mutism: JJ first appears in a silent video with captions like an old-time movie, but Sean didn't confirm that he has mutism until later, and also incorporated British Sign Language in his most recent video. older portrayals of JJ - or less inclusive ones - might not feature his mutism. additionally you may encounter a variety of magical or practical aids to help him communicate. oh, and you might also hear JJ called Dapper Jack - we were the ones who named him Jameson Jackson!

Eye color: throughout the years the glitches that suggested Jack might be making ego content frequently featured changes in his eye color. Sean has had brown, green, pure black, and mismatched eyes on different occasions. it's unknown if these correspond to particular egos, but Anti has appeared with green, blue, and black most frequently

Henrik being tortured for nine months: after Henrik was attacked by Anti during a video, Jack posted a bloodied postcard depicting a beach in Germany. this lead to the popular conception that Henrik was taken by Anti and may have been tortured by him. the length of time between seeing him again was nine months

Jack in a coma: this is more canon than fanon, but we've been saying that Jack's been in a coma for years and years now, pretty much since Anti first got his hands on him. Jack later had a voiceover in a video where Chase told Jack he needs him to wake up.

shipping: some of the most popular ships include Marvin/Jackie and Chase/Henrik. you'll also see some Darkiplier/Anti. although the egos all look the same, there's no canon suggestion that any of them are related at this time.

friendships: Chase canonically refers to Jack as his friend, and the fact that Henrik tried to help save Jack has led to the popular conception that he and Chase at least know each other, and are possibly friends too. the others? no clue. oh except maybe probably Anti is holding JJ captive who knows

Phoenix Marvin: Jack once referred to Marvin as a phoenix from the ashes in a tumblr post and we all lost our minds about it. great motif. and of course he wears the cat mask, so you'll see a lot of Marvin with cats or being able to turn into a cat. his magical powers are not canon yet, so you'll see a huge variety, as well as magic or superpowers for other egos too

please feel free to add on to this!! I'm curious what would stand out to everyone else if they were trying to share the fanon with someone new

#jacksepticeye

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neondiamond · 4 months

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🎁 Recently Read Fics - December 2023 🎁

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! ❤️

🎁 A Green Christmas by @tommokat (871, T)

A short, sweet snapshot of Niall and Shawn’s first holiday season living together.

🎁 to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by @beardyboyzx (1k, G)

Sometimes, Niall still thinks about the way Zayn’s laugh sounds when they watch TV and Niall makes up fake answers for whatever quiz show they’re watching.

🎁 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat (1k, M)

A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

🎁 make my wish come true by @voulezloux (2k, NR)

the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

🎁 Baby, please come home by @iysics (2k, T)

Breaking into his neighbour's house wasn't on Harry's Christmas checklist.

🎁 Stuck in Midnight Traffic by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (3k, M)

the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?

🎁 All The Way Home I’ll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue (3k, T)

Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🎁 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k, T)

When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer.

Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital.

But that was before he’d met him.

🎁 A Christmas at Home by @parmahamlarrie (3k, T)

After meeting his boyfriend in the emergency room, not having Louis home for Christmas Eve (and his birthday) was not a big surprise to Harry. What he didn't expect was just how hard that would be on his six year old son, Arlo.

Or, the one where Arlo wants nothing more than to celebrate Louis' birthday with him, and Harry hates having to be the parent who says no.

🎁 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by @londonfoginacup (3k, G)

Zayn and Louis are soulmates.

They're also missing some soulmates.

For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

🎁 Elf on the Shelf Suprise by @megz1985 (6k, T)

Liam brings home an Elf on the Shelf to surprise his and Zayn's toddler with Christmas magic, but things don't go as planned when she's completely terrified of her new Christmas friend.

🎁 The Busker by @chelsea-frew (7k, T)

A snowstorm has trapped artist Louis at home on his birthday--Christmas Eve--and on Christmas. Louis anticipates a lonely holiday. A mysterious stranger appears on Christmas morning, however, and Louis doesn't have to spend the day alone. But where did the man come from? Why does he seem familiar? It's a Christmas mystery.

🎁 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k, T)

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard.

It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day.

An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

🎁 You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by @londonfoginacup (32k, T)

Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

🎁 Snow In Love by @lululawrence (33k, NR)

Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny.

People thought they were already dating. Weird.

An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.

🎁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (33k, E)

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

🎁 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (34k, T)

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

#chose the present emoji this month because all of these lovely fics are the best presents to all of us #🥰🥰🥰#28th appreciation #monthly recs #fic rec #tracksintheam

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ishoulddefbedoingotherthings · 8 months

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I don’t like Neal.

(2nd installment of rants I should not be writing because I should def be doing other things)

Or in other words: The only bagel I’ll ever like is the New York style kind.

And it’s not even because I’m a CS shipper because when we first found out that Neal existed, Hook was in his womanizer mode (and yes I loved HIM but I didn’t ship CS quite yet, I did start immediately after tho, but that’s beside the point).

First, facts need to be pointed out. Emma was a minor. That’s not arguable, she was a minor and was 17 when she had Henry because she had just turned 28 when Henry was already 10, so there was an overlap when she was 17 and had a baby. So that means during her relationship with Neal, she was a minor.

According to Neal’s wanted poster, he was 23. A 23 year old with a 17 year old is not okay, and it’s logical to assume that Emma was 16 when she met him, but even then, NEAL WAS 22. THAT IS NOT OKAY. THAT IS IN NO WAY OKAY. And if we’re adding two hundred years to it, that’s even MORE not okay.

And I know there’s the argument that Hook is hundreds of years older too, but their age doesn’t matter, it’s their age in relation to EMMA’S. When Emma met Neal, she was 16/17. She was vulnerable and living on the streets and even if Neal wasn’t trying to, he took advantage of her naive state. All Emma wanted was a family, and Neal seemed to give that to her because she believed he was the first person to give a damn about her. When Emma met Hook, she was a mature adult and could properly assess a situation, a skill that she hadn’t yet mastered as a 16 year old. She literally couldn’t because our brains don’t fully develop until 25.

So that’s one thing. Neal took advantage of her. She was a minor, he was an adult. Any person that would condone that relationship AND SAY IT WAS HEALTHY is not okay in my book.

Again I repeat, the only bagel I like is that with cream cheese.

And now moving on: HE LEFT HER IN JAIL??? FOR HIS CRIME?????? WOMEN HAVE DIVORCED FOR LESS! MY MOTHER DIVORCED FOR LESS!

I feel like people brush past that way too easily. Because OUAT is a magical show people try to downplay trauma, but pregnancy is even traumatic for a woman that wanted the baby. Emma did not want to be pregnant. Nobody would want to be pregnant in that situation. She put her livelihood and her trust into Neal and he betrayed her all because of her so called “destiny”. Destiny is destiny. It would happen no matter what and he didn’t need to make her take the fall for his crime in order to get away from her. HE COULDVE CHEATED ON HER AND IT WOULDVE BEEN BETTER. And, he also didn’t want to see his father, which most definitely played a part in his decision to leave Emma. Neal suffered a lot because of his father, but if he loved Emma so much, it would’ve been worth it to stay with her, wouldn’t it??? Neal never chooses the hard path.

But back to the pregnancy thing. Not only is it traumatic for a fully grown woman, but she was a teenager!! A teenager that was alone and afraid in a jail cell, pregnant. That is terrible. That’s so astronomically terrible and I feel like people that love adult Neal don’t understand that. I love little Neal. Not adult Neal because he did that crap because Pinocchio told him to.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he took the money for himself that was supposed to go to Emma. Imagine how much that would’ve helped her. Money can buy nice clothes and food and a hotel room. It could’ve gotten her a job (she did get one eventually) but that money could’ve helped her so much.

And then years later, when he gets the postcard that the curse is broken, he could’ve gone to check on her and he didn’t. Imagine how much that would’ve meant to Emma, that even after all he did, he was still willing to go back and see her because she meant that much to him. And he would be willing to face all the backlash she would give him because he knew he deserved it.

But he DIDNT. He didn’t come to check on her, he never would’ve gone to see her if not for Rumplestilskin’s deal, and that makes me hate him even more.

And uh HELLO? He also told her if he knew who she was he would’ve never gone near her. Imagine how much a punch in the gut that was for her. One of Emma’s main problems is that she felt like she was never enough for someone. And here Neal is, the first person she really loved and who she believed really loved her back, telling her that she would not be enough for him. She was not worthy of his attention because of where she was from and who she was. That is so terrible to say to someone. So very fricking terrible.

AND HE DIDNT EVEN APOLOGIZE. NOT ONCE. UM WTF? I REWATCHED AND HE DID NOT APOLOGIZE. He said he messed up. But he didn’t mess up, he fucked up. He fucked EMMA up. I am an Emma lover through and through. She is my baby and I will defend her to the ends of the earth. I don’t hate Neal because he ‘stood in the way of CS’ because let’s be honest, we all knew CS would be endgame when the first episode we got with them together was in direct contrast to Tallahassee, aka, Neal’s relationship with Emma. If that’s not foreshadowing I don’t know what is. No, I hate Neal because of how he treated EMMA. That poor innocent 17 year old that suffered so MUCH because of Neal’s actions, intentional or not.

I think the saying “it doesn’t matter if you mean well, it matters if you do well” completely sums up how I feel about that situation. Oh and even after he fucks her up, she goes to Tallahassee and waits for him FOR TWO YEARS because she’s hopeful that maybe it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to leave her and that he still loved her. That little trooper. I want to give her blankets and hot chocolate and grilled cheese and therapy

There’s no doubt in my mind that Neal does love Emma because how can you not. She’s amazing. And I do believe that Emma loves Neal, but I think they were both in love with the idea of each other. They were each other’s first loves, and that is important, but have you noticed how surprised Neal looked when he learned all the new things about Emma? How he downplayed her superpower? How he didn’t believe her about Tamara when she was right? How he looked almost afraid and disgusted that she had magic? Magic that’s always been a part of her- that’s such a BIG part of her.

Neal loves Emma, but I think it’s startlingly clear that it’s not 28 year old Emma, but 17 carefree happy Emma. And Emma does love Neal, but I whole-heartedly feel like she loved the idea of him and how happy he used to make her before leaving her. And you know maybe I’m wrong, but the look Emma gives him a lot is only what I can describe as the look of a person trying to reminisce. A person trying to remember the good parts about someone after a decade of separation, and here they are a completely different person. I honestly don’t think Emma fully processed what Neal did to her, and that’s why all the feelings flooded to the surface upon seeing him after all those years because she never got closure.

And this actually happened to a friend of mine. He had broken up with his gf of a year, and he loved her a lot he just felt like it was toxic (and it was) and broke up, and then he dove into his work and didn’t think about it at all. Then work started to slow down a few months later and he had a lot of time to sit and think and he called me telling me that he missed his ex and that he wanted to get back together with her. I told him to wait a few weeks and process it to see how he felt before doing anything rash, and sure enough, a few weeks later he said that he didn’t want to get back together with her anymore.

Emma didn’t fully process that relationship for a decade. She hid behind walls and a red leather jacket because the pain was so intense. She told Neal she loved him in the portal because she thought he was going to die, but I really think she was talking to his past self, his past self that she loved and now she would never see that again. But at least now she could move on.

Then flash go echo cave. She literally tells Neal she wished he was dead. She said that she would always love him, but there’s a clear difference to loving someone than being in love with someone. Emma is not IN LOVE with Neal, she loves him, but she is not in love. And the reason for that is because all he put her through. All the pain and the torture that she didn’t want to go through again so she wished he was dead because it would’ve been easier for her to move on finally after all these years. I also thinks that she loved him because he gave her Henry. Emma loves her son. And Neal played a part in creating him so of course Emma would love him for giving her that, but she is not IN LOVE with him.

And I don’t blame Neal for wanting to fight for Emma (I would fight for Emma any day of the week) but I do think in that moment, and judging from her lack of reply, she knows that she is over with that romantic Neal titled chapter of her life.

(and it definitely didnt help that she got the daylights kissed out of her by a sexy pirate)

There are only two things that I respect about adult Neal.

1: he sent the dove to Captain Hook to get Emma back because he knew that he would fight to bring her home. I think that that is very admirable considering he act like a jealous asshole in neverland which really bugged me, and I thought it did develop his character well. He realized that Hook was not the same man he previously knew and I respect that.

2: the quote “I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.” This is important to me because I feel like the writers could’ve portrayed him even further as a selfish person that he did appear to be (and that would’ve made it even easier for me to dislike him) but they didn’t. This was Neal recognizing that Emma moved on, something that she had been doing since Neverland, and commenting on that which I also admire because Emma deserves to be happy without something holding her down.

And honestly I do feel as if the only way she could move on entirely is through him dying because he would always be around, and she would always have that reminder of the most painful part of her life. I think JMO actually commented on that in an interview about how Neal would always be there because he was Henry’s father. And I think that even though Emma loved him, she felt a lot lighter once he died. I feel as if most of her grief was out of empathy for her son because he would have to live without a father just like she did, and she knew how painful that is. That grief was NOT because she would never get to be in a relationship with him because she had already moved on, and the people that can’t see that have not been watching the show, or are too much of a swanfire Stan to see that. And that’s perfectly fine, we’re all free to have an opinion, but Emma’s actions and words clearly showed that she moved on.

And you know, I deeply hated when he told Emma not to go after Hook because it was dangerous because I think it clearly showed the contrast between Emma and Neal and why they would not work out. Emma takes the hard way, Neal takes the easy way. Would it have been safer and easier for Emma to mourn Hook and move on? Yes. Was it more dangerous to go after him to right the wrong and injustice he faced, and to get her literal true love back? Yes, but it was the right choice. But every time Neal is confronted with a difficult choice, he takes the easy path. He could’ve stayed with Emma, he could’ve gone to her after the curse broke, and he could’ve offered a better damn date option than a ‘come to granny’s if you want’ which I can see how that would be respectful, but he also wasn’t fighting for her which is exactly what Emma needed someone to do for her. To climb past her walls and pull her out with them. That’s why I don’t like Neal. He did not treat Emma well, one way or another, his actions traumatized her and again, are you telling me you’d get back together with a person that did that to you? No? Well then why the hell should EMMA? Give the poor thing a break and let her move on.

(Also side note, am I the only one that thinks the ice cave in season four was a metaphor for Emma’s walls? Uhh hello? Impenetrable fortress? Turns a person cold and solid? Surviving not living? You couldn’t force them open with brute force (gold’s magic) because that may damage the person inside of them beyond repair, instead you need to encourage them to come out by themself while you simultaneously break it down so it makes the passage easier, and on the other side there is comfort and warmth. In season four Emma’s walls finally started to come down through her family and Killian and it’s literally shown through that episode. End of side note)

But yeah, I don’t like Neal, really deeply don’t. There are two things that I respect, and that’s it. And I didn’t even get to how he told Emma to lie to Rumple, knowing exactly what he does to liars, and how he was mad at Emma for not telling him about Henry when he left her in prison, and how he moved on way too fast from his FIANCÉ? Yeah she was evil but where were his residual feelings??? Even Emma had a bit with Walsh.

*big breath*

Thank you for coming to my second Ted Talk.

#once upon a time #captain swan #Anti Neal #Sorry not sorry #little Neal is so cute but adult Neal is a red flag and reminds me too much of my own crappy dad for me to ever like him #I feel like people that really like him have never had a man (or person in general) in their life that acts condescending and doesn’t #Believe in them. Neal didn’t believe in Emma as much as he should have in Neverland and he also didn’t believe her about Henry HER SON????#I said what I said #Emma swan meta #Rant #I love Emma Swan #I do not like Neal

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postcard-from-the-past · 5 months

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Magic City entertainment park in Paris

French vintage postcard

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darknesseddiem · 29 days

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𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐳: 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝟔𝟔

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: A fleeting glimpse into your life in Paris reveals a tapestry woven with the threads of contentment. Amidst the quaint charm of your bustling bakery, you found solace in the artistry of your craft and the warmth of the friendships you cultivated. Yet, like an unyielding specter, the echoes of your past refuse to fade into obscurity.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, mentions of sad past, descriptions of panic attack, abusive husband (not with Reader), child loss, mentions of violence, let me know if I missed one

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,6K

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

As you stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Paris, the cold morning air greeted you like an old friend, its crisp touch sending shivers down your spine. The gentle breeze danced around you, carrying with it the delicate flakes of snow that twirled and pirouetted before gently settling on the ground. Each flake seemed to have a life of its own, weaving intricate patterns as they landed, transforming the city into a winter wonderland.

The frost had painted everything in sight with its delicate touch, leaving a shimmering coat on the streets and a soft blanket on the rooftops of cars parked along the curb. The world around you was draped in white, as if nature had decided to cast a spell of serenity over the bustling city.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of pastries from nearby bakeries. It was a tantalizing combination that teased your senses and stirred a pang of hunger in your stomach. Regret gnawed at you for not indulging in breakfast earlier, but there was a certain magic in the air that distracted you from your hunger.

Despite the chill in the air, there was a warmth in the atmosphere that came from the cozy cafes and bistros lining the streets. The soft glow of their lights spilled out onto the snow-covered sidewalks, inviting you to step inside and escape the cold. It was a scene straight out of a postcard, a picturesque moment frozen in time.

As you hurried through the streets of Paris, the weight of responsibility hung heavy on your shoulders. It wasn't your fault that the alarm clock had betrayed you, rudely jolting you awake much later than intended. In the frantic scramble to make it to the bakery on time, breakfast had become an afterthought, sacrificed in the race against the clock.

Despite the early hour, Paris was alive with a quiet energy, as if it were slowly awakening from its slumber. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, accompanied by the occasional clang of a passing tram. It was a peaceful scene, a moment of stillness before the city burst into life with the hustle and bustle of the day.

As you continued your morning stroll through the quiet streets of Paris, the familiar sounds of bicycle bells and the whirring of wheels filled the air, signaling the arrival of the teenage boys on their delivery rounds. With deft skill, they navigated the narrow streets, balancing baskets filled with fresh milk, warm bread, and delectable cakes destined for those who had no time to prepare their own breakfast.

The sight brought a smile to your lips as you watched them zip past, their youthful energy adding a touch of vibrancy to the serene morning scene. It was a reminder of the simple joys of everyday life in Paris, where tradition and modernity seamlessly coexisted, shaping the rhythm of the city.

A few more minutes of leisurely walking brought you closer to your destination, and soon the beautiful facade of your bakery came into view, standing out amidst the row of charming buildings with its inviting allure.

As you approached your bakery, known as "The Raven's Nest," your heart swelled with pride and affection. The building stood proudly amidst the Parisian streets, a striking monument to your passion for baking and your love of the Gothic aesthetic.

The neoclassical facade had been transformed into a dramatic display of Gothic architecture, with dark gray stone walls rising high, adorned with intricate carvings of ravens and other macabre motifs. Instead of gold and silver, the decorations gleamed with accents of crimson red and midnight black, casting an aura of mystery and allure.

Gone were the delicate pink flowers; in their place were arrangements of deep red roses and black dahlias, their petals adding a touch of romanticism to the Gothic ambiance. The upstairs balconies were adorned with wrought iron railings, their designs reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals, adding to the dramatic silhouette of the building.

The large panes and windows remained, but now they were framed by heavy velvet curtains, allowing only slivers of light to filter through, adding to the mysterious atmosphere within. Outside, the blue and white striped canvas awnings had been replaced with elegant black ones, providing shade to the sidewalk and creating a sense of intimacy for customers who chose to linger outside.

As you gazed upon the transformed facade of your bakery, a sense of awe washed over you. It was more than just a place of business; it was a reflection of your personality and your deepest desires. The Raven's Nest had become a sanctuary for different people who longed for a place in the world, a place where they could indulge in decadent pastries and rich, dark coffee while surrounded by the beauty of the macabre.

You noticed a familiar figure standing patiently outside, his silhouette softened by the early morning light. Antoine, the sweet old man who had become not only a loyal customer but also a cherished friend, was already eagerly awaiting the opening of the bakery.

Your heart swelled with gratitude as you recalled the countless acts of kindness Antoine had bestowed upon you since the day you arrived in Paris, a stranger in a foreign city. It was he who had taken you under his wing, offering you shelter, sustenance, and employment at the factory he managed, when you had nowhere else to turn. His generosity and unwavering support had provided you with the stability and encouragement you needed to pursue your dream of owning a bakery.

From the humble beginnings of selling homemade pastries from your tiny apartment to the triumphant moment of purchasing the building that now housed The Raven's Nest, Antoine had been there every step of the way, cheering you on with his gentle smile and wise words of encouragement.

But it was not just his material support that had made Antoine invaluable to you; it was his unwavering belief in your abilities and his boundless faith in your dreams that had truly touched your heart. He had seen potential in you when you could barely see it in yourself, and his steadfast presence had been a guiding light through the darkest of times.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you approached Antoine, the jangle of your keys punctuating the quiet morning air. His presence, steadfast and comforting, never failed to bring a sense of warmth to your heart.

"I hope you didn't wait too long for me," you greeted him, the concern evident in your voice.

Antoine turned towards you, his eyes twinkling with affection as his mustache arched gracefully with his smile. "My dear, the anticipation only makes the coffee taste sweeter," he replied, his voice carrying the gentle lilt of a cherished friend.

His words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves. With a grateful nod, you took a moment to admire the way the morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden floors.

"Lucky for you, you won't have to wait a whole day," you remarked playfully, gesturing towards the inviting doors. With practiced ease, you slipped into your apron, the familiar weight grounding you in the rhythm of the day.

As you set about your tasks, Antoine settled into his favorite corner, the morning newspaper cradled in his hands like an old friend. His presence brought a sense of calm to the bustling kitchen, his unwavering support a beacon of reassurance in the midst of the morning rush.

"Do you need help, ma chérie?" he offered, his tone filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head with a grateful smile, the warmth of his fatherly concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. "Not today, Monsieur," you reassured him, the sound of your voice mingling with the soft hum of the kitchen appliances. "But your coffee will be ready in just a moment."

With a contented nod, Antoine returned his attention to the newspaper, his weathered hands turning the pages with practiced ease. And as you worked side by side, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baking pastries, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the friendship you shared with Antoine, a friendship built on kindness, mutual respect, and the simple joy of sharing a quiet moment in the heart of your treasure.

The morning light filtered through the windows as the sound of footsteps echoed through the shop, signaling the arrival of your employees and co-workers. Among them, Florence was always the first to arrive, her punctuality a testament to her dedication and reliability.

With a warm smile, you greeted Florence as she entered, her presence bringing a sense of cheer to the bustling shop. Antoine, ever the gentleman, rose from his seat and removed his gray beret, a gesture of respect for the sweet woman who had captured his heart from the moment he met her.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Antoine! Good morning, Mon Cher!" Florence exclaimed sweetly, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she addressed both of you.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle! And I've already said you can call me Antoine," he replied with a gentle smile, his voice filled with affection.

You watched the interaction with a fond smile, knowing well the bond that had formed between Antoine and Florence. Theirs was a connection that went beyond mere friendship, a deep and abiding affection that was evident to anyone who spent even a moment in their company.

As Antoine returned to his seat, a soft blush coloring his cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for the two of them. They were, without a doubt, the sweetest and kindest people you had ever known, and they deserved every ounce of happiness that life had to offer.

Encouraging their budding romance had been an easy decision for you. After all they had been through, the trials and tribulations they had faced with unwavering grace and resilience, it was only fitting that they find solace and joy in each other's company.

As Florence turned towards the kitchen, her eyes caught sight of you standing there, quietly observing the exchange between Antoine and herself. A warm smile graced her lips, and she made her way over to you, her steps light and graceful. It was part of her daily routine, her motherly affection spilling over to envelop everyone in her path.

With a gentle embrace, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close in her comforting hug. It was a gesture you had come to cherish, a moment of solace in the midst of the bustling bakery.

"Did you have a good night?" she inquired, her voice soft and caring. "The cold increased a little during midnight, did you remember to stay warm and cozy?"

You nodded, leaning into her touch as she stroked your hair with gentle affection. "Yeah, I was so tired that I barely noticed the cold," you replied honestly. "It was a surprise when I woke up this morning and saw all that snow."

As the two of you parted from the hug, you busied yourself with pouring Antoine's coffee, the rich aroma filling the air with warmth and comfort.

"Don’t even get me started," Florence chimed in, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I almost didn’t want to get out of bed today. You know how I love this cold weather. It’s perfect for staying at home, watching some movies while drinking hot chocolate and baking cinnamon rolls."

You couldn't help but smile at her words, the image of cozy winter days filling your mind with a sense of nostalgia and longing. Florence had a way of warming your heart with just a few simple words, her kindness and compassion shining through even on the coldest of days.

As you looked into her eyes, filled with that unique and kind essence that only she possessed, you felt a surge of gratitude wash over you. Despite everything life had thrown her way, Florence remained a beacon of light and love, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty and goodness to be found.

The coffee machine chimed merrily, its cheerful melody cutting through the serene atmosphere of the bakery kitchen like a symphony conductor signaling the start of a grand performance. You turned your attention from the conversation to the machine, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you attended to its beckoning call.

"When you say ‘movies,’ you mean watching Twilight, don’t you? Everyone knows it’s kind of a rule to watch all the movies when the mood gets like this," you quipped, your tone light and playful, the sparkle in your eyes reflecting the mischief dancing within.

Florence's laughter bubbled forth like a brook in springtime, filling the air with the sweet melody of her amusement. With a twinkle in her eye, she responded, "I’m talking about the classics: Ghost, Titanic, Pretty Woman… Not these vampire films that don’t have even a third of the romance they have."

The banter between you and Florence flowed effortlessly, a playful exchange of wit and humor that added a touch of levity to the morning routine. It was a dance you had perfected over countless mornings, each step choreographed with familiarity and ease.

As you poured the steaming coffee into Antoine's mug, you marveled at the unique blend of flavors that defined his morning ritual. With a spoonful of rum and a hint of vanilla essence, it was a concoction that defied convention yet somehow managed to tantalize the taste buds with its decadent allure.

"How dare you!" you laughed, shaking your head in mock indignation as you handed the steaming cup of coffee to Antoine. “Just know that Edward Cullen is a romantic.”

“I’m sure Edward Cullen has his own charm, but not as romantic as my old friend, Frank Sinatra,” Antoine interjected with a grin, his eyes twinkling with the memories of days gone by.

And then, with a flourish, he began to sing, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience and wisdom. The lyrics of a timeless love song spilled forth from his lips, each word dripping with emotion and longing.

"Keep that breathless charm, won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you," he sang, his voice a rich tapestry of passion and sentiment.

You watched in awe as Antoine's serenade filled the kitchen, infusing the space with a sense of timeless romance.

As the conversation about Frank Sinatra's timeless romance and Edward Cullen's brooding charm reached its peak, the familiar jingle of the bakery door announced the arrival of another member of your close-knit team.

Steve Harrington, your best friend and manager, sauntered into the bakery with his characteristic flair, his brown locks impeccably styled with a generous amount of hairspray. Dressed in a polo shirt and light wash mom jeans, he exuded effortless charm and confidence, a fact that was not lost on anyone who crossed paths with him.

"Good morning, Antoine, good morning Florence, and good morning, my sweetie," Steve greeted with his usual charm, his words accompanied by a playful wink that earned him an eye-roll from you.

As Florence enveloped Steve in her warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the easy affection between them. Steve had always been like a son to Florence, receiving the love and care that he had been deprived of from his own parents, who only seemed to remember his existence when they needed something from him or when they were in the midst of a fight.

"How was your night? Did you remember to turn on the heater? You know you get colds easily, and yesterday it was intensely cold," She asked, her concern genuine as the boy leaned into Florence's embrace.

"As soon as I saw the snow starting to fall, I turned it on," Steve reassured her, his voice warm with affection. "Robin, on the other hand, asked me to let you know that she’s not coming today. She caught a cold and is in bed."

A furrow of worry creased Florence's brow at the news, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately. "Oh, I’ll make some soup and bring it to her for lunch," she declared, her voice laced with concern.

"With this cold, we shouldn’t have that much movement, so it’s okay," you added, a reassuring smile on your lips.

But your optimism was short-lived. As the morning wore on, the bakery began to fill with customers seeking refuge from the biting cold outside. The scent of freshly baked pastries and steaming cups of coffee filled the air, drawing people in like moths to a flame.

The aroma of freshly baked croissants and brioches wafted through the air, weaving its irresistible spell over the bustling bakery. The streets of Paris hummed with the energy of the tourist season, drawing visitors from far and wide to the charming little establishment nestled on Saint-Dominique street. To them, it was more than just a bakery—it was a sanctuary of indulgence, a haven where the simple act of savoring a pastry felt like a glimpse of heaven.

Amidst the lively chatter of patrons and the tinkling of cutlery, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of your work. With practiced hands, you kneaded the dough for more delicious crepes, the anticipation of creating something truly exquisite fueling your movements.

Around you, the tables were filled with eager customers, their faces alight with excitement as they savored each delectable bite. Children jostled each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse through the glass window that separated the kitchen from the main dining area. To them, the sight of the bustling kitchen was nothing short of magical—a glimpse behind the curtain into a world where dreams were made of sugar and flour.

As you worked, you couldn't help but admire the scene before you—the laughter of families, the animated conversations of friends, the quiet moments of solitude punctuated by the simple pleasure of a warm cup of coffee and a freshly baked treat. It was a tableau of life in all its vibrant hues, a reminder of the joy that could be found in the simplest of moments.

And as you glanced out at the sea of smiling faces, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in your heart. For in this little bakery on Saint-Dominique, amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, you had created more than just a place to enjoy a pastry—you had created a haven, a sanctuary of sweetness and light where every bite carried with it a taste of pure joy.

As the bakers worked their magic in the kitchen, their antics and playful banter added an extra layer of entertainment to the bustling atmosphere of the bakery. With flour-dusted aprons and mischievous grins, they teased the audience with little tricks and pirouettes, their movements fluid and graceful, bringing a radiant sparkle to the eyes of those present.

Customers chuckled and applauded as the bakers showcased their skills, their laughter mingling with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pastries. It was a scene straight out of a charming French film, where the everyday hustle and bustle of a bakery transformed into a spectacle of joy and delight.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, you couldn't help but notice a group of people dressed in expensive suits and fedora hats sitting in the corner of the bakery. Their sharp attire stood out against the backdrop of casual elegance, and their demeanor hinted at an air of mystery and intrigue.

Curiosity piqued, you observed them discreetly as you went about serving other customers. Their eyes darted around the bakery, scanning the room with a sense of purpose as if they were searching for someone or something. There was an aura of secrecy about them, a silent tension that hung in the air like a veil.

Intrigued by their presence, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this group than met the eye. With a sense of caution tinged with curiosity, you made a mental note to keep an eye on them as the morning unfolded, wondering what secrets they might hold and what role they might play in the bustling drama of the bakery.

As you replaced the macarons in the display case, your mind couldn't shake off the presence of those mysterious customers in the corner of the bakery. With a sense of unease gnawing at your insides, you decided to seek out Steve for answers.

"Hey Steve, have you seen those people around here?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual as you glanced over at the group in question.

Steve glanced in their direction, his brow furrowing in thought. "Uh, I’m not sure… Maybe they’re the buyers from the building across the street," he suggested with a shrug, his attention quickly diverted by a customer approaching the counter.

As you continued your conversation with Steve, you felt a sudden chill run down your spine. Instinctively, you looked back at the mysterious group, only to find one of the men locking eyes with you. His gaze felt like a weight upon your soul, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you could react, the man said something to the others at the table, who turned to look at you with a strange intensity. Their eyes bore into yours, and for a brief moment, you felt a sense of recognition wash over you. It was as if you knew them from somewhere, but the memory remained elusive, just beyond the reach of your consciousness.

A wave of unease washed over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Sensing the danger, you quickly excused yourself from the conversation with Steve and retreated to the back of the bakery, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings as you tried to compose yourself.

But the feeling of dread lingered, like a shadow cast across your thoughts. Something told you that those people were not who they appeared to be, and that their presence spelled trouble. And as you struggled to calm your racing heart, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were about to be drawn into something far more sinister than a simple bakery business.

As you retreated to the safety of the storeroom, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum of warning. Leaning against the sturdy wooden door, you felt the cool surface against your back, grounding you in the present moment.

Your entire body trembled with fear, and cold sweat dampened your brow as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of your painful past danced like ghosts, haunting you with memories you had long tried to bury. Tears welled up, tracing silent paths down your cheeks and onto your collar, a silent testament to the turmoil raging within.

"Pull yourself together, they're just customers, you're safe," you whispered to yourself, the words a mantra of reassurance that fell on deaf ears. The fear gripped you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath.

With trembling hands, you took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. You couldn't afford to let your fear consume you, not now, not when there were customers to attend to and a bakery to run. Steeling yourself, you pushed away from the door and opened your eyes, determined to face whatever awaited you on the other side.

To your surprise, you found Florence standing there, her expression a mix of concern and compassion. She must have sensed your distress and followed you to the storeroom, her motherly instincts kicking in to offer comfort and support.

Without a word, she reached out and enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you close as if to shield you from the storm raging outside. In her arms, you found solace, a sanctuary from the chaos and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm you.

And as you buried your face in her shoulder, allowing yourself to be held by the warmth of her embrace, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you. With Florence by your side, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, with courage and resilience.

For in the safety of her arms, you found not only comfort but also strength—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always light to be found in the embrace of those who cared for you.

"Oh Mon Cher, you’re so pale, I saw you running here and I was scared thinking something had happened," Florence murmured, her voice laced with concern as she held you tightly in her arms.

Florence was more than just a coworker or a friend—she was a pillar of strength, a survivor who had endured unimaginable hardships and emerged stronger than ever. Divorced from her abusive husband after years of suffering in silence, she had found refuge and purpose within the walls of Raven's Nest.

It had been a desperate plea for a job that had brought her to your doorstep, her eyes filled with determination and resilience even in the face of adversity. She had begged for the opportunity to work, even if it meant starting from the bottom and cleaning the bathrooms.

You had taken her in without hesitation, recognizing the fire that burned within her despite the scars of her past. And as she poured her heart and soul into her work, you had watched in awe as she blossomed before your eyes, her spirit unbroken despite the trials she had endured.

But behind her warm smile and gentle demeanor lay a pain that ran deep, a wound that refused to heal. It was a pain born from the loss of her son, a sweet angel whose life had been cut short by the senseless violence of his own father.

The memory of that tragic night haunted Florence like a specter, its ghostly presence a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the cruelty of fate. She had fought tooth and nail to protect her son, but in the end, she had been powerless to save him from the hands of the man who was supposed to love and cherish them both.

As Florence held you in her arms, her embrace a lifeline in the midst of the storm, you couldn't help but feel a surge of compassion for the woman who had endured so much loss and pain. And as you stood together in the quiet sanctuary of the storeroom, surrounded by the comforting scent of flour and sugar, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, drawing strength from each other's love and resilience.

“I just… I think I've been working too much, Florence. Don’t worry, I'm fine," you murmured, seeking solace in her comforting presence.

Florence's warm embrace enveloped you like a protective shield, her maternal instincts kicking in as she held you close. "You know you can count on me for anything, right? Take good care of yourself, my girl," she whispered, her words a gentle reminder of the unwavering support and love she offered freely to all who crossed her path.

With a grateful smile, you leaned into her embrace, finding solace in the familiar comfort of her arms. In that fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and belonging that only Florence could provide.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed, and you reluctantly pulled away, knowing that there was work to be done and customers to attend to. With a shared glance, you and Florence returned to your respective tasks, diving back into the whirlwind of activity that filled the bakery.

Throughout the day, the bakery buzzed with a vibrant energy, the air alive with laughter and conversation. Children darted about excitedly, their faces lighting up with joy at the sight of the delectable treats on display. Tourists ventured inside, their broken French mingling with the melodic tones of the locals as they placed their orders with eager anticipation.

Meanwhile, the pastry chefs worked tirelessly behind the scenes, their hands moving with practiced precision as they crafted each confection with love and care.

The weight of the day's events hung heavy on your shoulders as you made your way home through the bustling streets of Paris. Despite the comforting glow of the streetlights and the steady stream of people passing by, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

With each glance over your shoulder, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes followed your every move. You quickened your pace, the click-clack of your shoes against the pavement echoing in the night air as you navigated the labyrinthine streets of the city.

Finally, you reached the safety of your home, the familiar sight of your doorstep a welcome relief. Fumbling for your keys, you hurriedly unlocked the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place a comforting reassurance of security.

Stepping inside, you felt the tension drain from your body as you closed the door behind you. The familiar warmth and coziness of your home enveloped you like a soft blanket, easing the knots of anxiety that had formed in your stomach.

With a sigh of relief, you set about your evening routine, the familiar rituals serving as a soothing balm for your frazzled nerves. Dinner was a simple affair, hastily prepared but satisfying nonetheless. You fed Edward, your faithful feline companion, his soft purrs a comforting backdrop to the quiet of the evening.

After dinner, you indulged in a long, relaxing bath, the warm water washing away the cares of the day and leaving you feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. As you soaked in the tub, the tension slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.

After drying off and slipping into your pajamas—a worn blouse, a pair of soft panties, and cozy socks—you settled into bed, the soft embrace of the blankets cocooning you in warmth. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, letting the gentle rhythm of your breath lull you into a peaceful slumber, knowing that tomorrow was a new day, filled with endless possibilities.

As you prepared to settle into bed for the night, a familiar sense of unease washed over you, creeping like tendrils of fog into the corners of your mind. The sensation of danger prickled at your senses, setting your nerves on edge and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite the comforting warmth of your cozy bedroom, a chill settled over you, wrapping you in its icy embrace. Your heart quickened its pace, pounding against your chest like a frantic drumbeat as adrenaline surged through your veins.

With a trembling hand, you reached for the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow across the room as you scanned the shadows for any sign of threat. But the darkness offered no answers, only deepening the sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the air.

Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the curtains seemed to echo with the ominous whisper of danger. Your breath caught in your throat, shallow and ragged as you struggled to calm the rising tide of panic within you.

You knew you should call the police, seek help, but fear held you captive, rendering you powerless to move. The weight of uncertainty pressed down upon you, suffocating and oppressive.

With a heavy heart and trembling limbs, you braced yourself for whatever darkness the night might bring, clinging to the flickering flame of hope that whispered softly in the recesses of your mind.

As you stood frozen in fear, your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. The sensation of danger loomed over you like a dark cloud, suffocating you with its oppressive weight.

Chills ran down your spine, sending shivers through your body as if you were caught in the grip of an icy vice. Your blood felt like it was freezing and burning simultaneously, a tumultuous storm raging within you.

Nervousness and anxiety consumed you, gnawing at your insides with relentless intensity. Every fiber of your being screamed for action, for escape, but your body remained paralyzed, held captive by fear's icy grip.

A knock on the door shattered the suffocating silence, jolting you out of your trance-like state. With trembling limbs, you made your way downstairs, each step feeling like an eternity as dread gnawed at your soul.

Approaching the peephole with hesitant fingers, you braced yourself for what lay beyond. And as you peered through the small opening, your heart plummeted into the depths of despair.

There, standing before you, was a man in a suit, his features obscured by the dim light of the night. But even in the darkness, you recognized him, his presence igniting a primal fear deep within you.

"It can't be..." you whispered to yourself, your voice barely above a breath.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you slowly opened the door, your hands trembling with fear. And as you looked into the man's eyes, all the blood drained from your face, leaving you pale and trembling.

"Hello, Sunny. Did you miss me?" His voice sent shivers down your spine, a sinister whisper that echoed in the depths of your soul.

Everything had been perfect that day, until it wasn't anymore. And now, faced with the embodiment of your darkest nightmares, you knew that the horrors of the past had come back to haunt you once again.

#darknesseddiemfics #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #older!eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #inmate!eddie munson

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bigbangharringrove · 3 months

Text

An affinity for dead things

Author: @spaceofentropy (Ao3: zeros83) Artist: @bigolemantiddies (Ao3: A_goodboy; IG: steven_creates) Artist: @raven-cl (Ao3: Raven_CL) Beta Reader: @kallisto-k (Ao3: DragonsIre)

Summary: Billy Hargrove has been dead and buried for a month and a half when Steve sets up to steal his body from his grave. The goal: to use magic to bring him back to life. The only problem is that magic always has a price, and things are never as easy as they seem. Rating: E Pairings: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington; background Nancy Wheeler/Jonathan Byers Content Tags: magic AU; post season 3; necromancer!Steve; grave robbing; Neil Hargrove; letters and postcards; Billy Hargrove is bad at feelings; platonic Stobin; sculptress Robin; speedrun through a different season 4 Content Warnings: neglectful parents; referenced child abuse; Neil Hargrove; blood and gore; dead animals; undead animals; skeletons and bones; knives; scars; homicide; canonical Upside Down/Vecna stuff

Excerpt & Art Previews:

Steve keeps on calling Hargrove back. Never stops pouring magic inside the cold body. He offers Billy life, shelter, warmth, another chance at building a future. The sun shining on his skin. The roar of the ocean. New and old music. Fast cars and deserted roads. Drinking beer while smoking a cigarette. Terrible food combinations when the munchies hit him at night. The perfect morsel of food, waiting for him somewhere around the world. The small things that make life worth living. The big things that make life scary. An explanation for what happened at Starcourt. The chance to experience what magic can do. The earthly pleasure of a living body, and those of the mind too. The magic flows with every syllable and Steve can feel more and more damage get undone while sweat beads on his skin and snakes down his back. He keeps on calling, keeps on offering, keeps on hoping. And then the ink on Billy's skin... it turns into dust. Raises in the air. Paints the currents of magic in the room grey and black. "The doors are open," Steve recites, holding Billy's hand even tighter, feeling like this, right here, right now, is the exact moment for the final invocation, "the road lies wide and free for you, Billy Hargrove. I've bribed it open for you with gifts of blood and water, I've prepared your body for your return, on a bed of anguish I've carved my prayers and laid my offerings. Listen to my call, beloved, and, if that pleases you, come back to the world of the living. Come listen to my voice in person. Come see the sun again, oh lost one, so that I can at least give you a proper goodbye before we're parted forever." Steve presses his lips to the tips of Billy's fingers and murmurs against his skin a soft, almost inaudible, please, Cali, come to me. The clamor of Billy's flesh knitting back together falls silent. Nothing happens. Not a fucking thing.

#harringrovebbpreview2023 #harringrove bigbang

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months

Text

The mademoiselle P3

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Adorable!

Warnings: Amputation / 1800's surgery / ether/ body horror

I couldn't help but move an ottoman over to sit on, and I looked closely at the amputation, I had been done... terribly, even just from this look I could tell this must have caused her agony even before weight bearing, the skin overstretched and warped, the thread used to sew up the amputation had never been removed, skin partly healed around it, it wasn't even surgical thread it was twine! fraying and splintering as old twine does,

"what on gods earth-" I muttered bringing a candle closer to better see what fucked up nonsense was happening here, "Who did this!"

"A clown."

"Yeah, I think he was,"

"No, he really...really was."

"He was a clown?"

"Yes."

"An actual... actual clown!"

"Yes."

"Uhhhh you mind telling me what happened?"

"It's a very long story. I was in an accident and he was the only person nearby with any form of training and here we are." She explained,

"Okay, I take it it's causing you more pain than usual?"

"Yes doctor, I can barely walk let alone perform."

"well that's certainly no good, I've heard of the magic of your performances. Wouldn't want to deprive anyone of that."

She blushed a little, "Well is there anything you can do doctor?"

"Uhh... I can give you some painkillers they should help your walking but If I may be so bold, I think it would be wise to have a doctor really look it over, when was the last time someone looked at it?"

"When it was done."

"Which was?"

"Twelve years ago."

"Alright, tomorrow come up to the hospital and I'll take a real proper look see what's going on. you sure it hasn't had any other work in that time?"

"Mild stuff, cutting back skin, infection control and such."

"Right, and not once has anyone suggested ... further amputation?"

"A couple of times, but I need to dance so we always just did the minimum."

"Alright, come by tomorrow whenever you can," I told her as I gave her some medicine

"I will, thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome mademoiselle," I told her as I took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, "Have a nice evening."

"You too doctor Dawkins," she smiled,

I took my bag and headed out filling in the paperwork as I went, as soon as I got back to my room I collapsed on my bed, I don't know why I felt so... conflicted, that I had looked at her pictures and desired her so much when... she must have been in agony to do it. I felt guilty about it, like It was my fault she was in pain. I took my box from under my bed and looked at the various postcards, I looked at her in these poses and situations and noticed how often they had her sitting down, how often the drawings stopped at her knees, or hidden by dresses, all of it to hide her away. I wanted to help her out I didn't want her to feel any more pain.

I made sure to clean up as I knew the mademoiselle was coming in today, and soon enough Hetty came and told me I had someone here to see me. So I fixed myself up and headed into one of the small patient rooms, and saw the mademoiselle sitting on the bed with a nervous smile.

"Bonjour docteur Dawkins,"(Hello Doctor Dawkins) She smiled,

"Bonjour mademoiselle," (Hello mademoiselle) I smiled back, "Quelle belle robe tu portes aujourd'hui," (What a beautiful dress you are wearing today)

"merci beaucoup docteur" (Thank you very much doctor) she blushed,

"Now, lets have a look." I told her, "if you could?"

"Alright," she sighed, sitting back on the bed and unlacing her boots letting them fall to the floor, I got my tools and had a much better look really investigating and it was worse than I suspected and I think she knew that too as the longer it went on the more grim her face got,

"You know what I'm going to say," I told her,

"You think I need a further amputation?"

"I don't think I know." I sighed leaning on the metal bed, "I know this is a big decision with you, but if I don't do this, you are going to get worse... and you could die."

"I don't really have much of a choice do I?"

"I can't in good conscience let you go without at least letting me do an operation to pull back the skin and at least remove the twine."

"Alright, When can you do it?"

"I can get you into the surgery theatre today."

She nodded,

"Alright, I'll make sure everything is sorted I'll get you in as soon as possible."

I made sure to get the theatre prepped while she got some stuff delivered by her maid, And soon enough Hetty brought her in,

"Right, Up Here mademoiselle," I smiled helping her up onto the table, "Just relax I promise I'll take care of you."

"I do hope so." She nervously nodded lying on the table,

"Okay," I nodded fetching the ether, "Just breathe gently for me, when you wake up this will all be over," I reassured her she nodded and did as I asked slowly drifting off until she was gone. "Okay... Let's do this." I told Hetty that I needed her as my nurse, I quickly got to work revealing the true situation and it was bad. The skin was stretched and infected in places, with dirt and grime under her skin, the bone had been left as a sharp splintering point as if broken by hand not cut in the amputation,

"Oh my -" Hetty gasped,

"I know,"

"How'd it happen?"

"she wouldn't say, I don't imagine it was good," I answered, I did my best to save it but amputation was the only option so I did as low as I could just under her knee and made sure to sew it up in a way that made it look as good as I could, once I was done Hetty took her back to her room so I cleaned up and went on with my other work, After a good while I went to her room to go and check on her, seeing her sat up in the bed with a box in her lap, "Bonjour mademoiselle,"

"Hello Doctor," she said looking through her box,

"How do you feel?" I asked sitting beside her

"Humm... Like I lost weight," she chuckled playfully glancing at her leg which made me chuckle a little, "It still hurts, which is odd. As it's not there."

"The phantom limb will fade."

"I know, I remember when they took my foot, it itched for days but it wasn't there." She said, "Thank you, doctor, most doctors I've seen just do what I ask... not what I need."

"You're very welcome." I smiled, "And uhh you can just call me Jack,"

"Alright, Jack." She smiled, "Y/n."

"Y/n? That's a very beautiful name."

"Thank you," She blushed, "I'm going to take a guess and say you know who I am?"

"I do. I uhhhh" I blushed, "I spent a lot of time in the navy growing up, your postcards... gave me a lot of peace then. And still do now."

she chuckled, "I'm glad I could be of such, Peace to you." She smiled gently taking my hand, I smiled and held her hand tightly, "I can't thank you enough Jack, though... I'm not sure what the future holds now."

"I wouldn't be so quick to be fearful, not much has really changed trust me... Most people won't even notice. You're far too beautiful for people to be looking at your feet."

She laughed, "I guess so. The postcards won't change that much."

"No, not really. But... I'll still look forward to seeing them. I'll pick up your next one just to show you so." I winked

"Humm... I'll send you it special," She smiled squeezing my hand,

"How did it happen? if you don't mind my asking?"

She seemed sad but flicked through her box before she handed me a postcard with a beautiful young girl, a ballerina dancing on a stage. "I wasn't always a showgirl, That was me... Once."

"My god- You were beautiful."

"Where?"

"Are- sorry I-"

"It's alright, I spent my whole life wanting to be a dancer classically trained from three, My father worked every hour god sent just to get me into ballet school." She explained, "I was so happy when got a job at the royal opera as a ballerina."

"Impressive."

"They were talking about me like I was something special," She said, "my first tour and this one show we were out in the sticks, I went on and did my part but- the galley walkway above the stage collapsed, fell down to the stage below... By the grace of god, it fell where it did. A few inches to the left I'd be dead. But it crushed my foot" She explained, "I was losing blood so fast, my foot wrecked beyond repair. The nearest doctor ten miles away, the only person in the company who had any training... was one of the men playing a clown in the opera, He had some medical training but nothing near what was needed but- time was not on our side. So they did what they could and took my foot there and then on the stage." She explained,

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

"What happened? Once it healed?"

"I healed while the rest of the tour went on and when we returned to the opera house... They tossed me away. Said I would never dance again. Wanted nothing to do with me. So I tried everywhere else but who wants a crippled dancer. The only place that would take me was a small club in pairs, they didn't want me to dance more just... take off my clothes. So I did. Learnt the violin, learnt how to perform in shows, named myself the mademoiselle, and... I suppose the rest is history."

"For what is worth. I think you'd have made a beautiful ballerina."

"Thank you," she blushed, "But now... I'm not sure what to make of myself, I don't even know I can be a showgirl now."

"I'd pay to see you, still."

"You would?"

"Absolutely."

"even like this?"

"I would."

"That's very sweet of you." She smiled, "But if my boss doesn't feel the same... I don't know what I'd do, or where I'd go."

"Well... Port Victory is a little place, not much goes on here, it's full of those of us with nowhere else to go. You'd always be welcome here."

"You think I would?"

"I'm sure you would,"

"What would I do?"

"Whatever you want, I'm sure a smart girl like you would find something." I smiled giving her back her ballerina picture,

"I'm sure I'd find something, even if I just became some...business guy's wife."

"I think you could do a lot better than that"

"You do?"

"Yeah, I mean... I think you could end up a doctor's wife."

"You really think so?"

"j'en suis sûr mademoiselle" (I'm sure of it mademoiselle) I smiled kissing her hand, "I'll leave you to rest." I smiled getting up to head back to work,

"Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome Y/n."

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs smut #tbs #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger

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