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trexy225 · 2 years

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TSS-Character Masterlist

Hello everyone! So this story has many, many characters so I made a master list to help y'all keep track! You will see alternate versions of different Spiderman characters as well as some easter eggs I jammed in there. I hope y'all enjoy this chaotic, unhinged Pirate AU as much as I do! Let's go lesbians!

The Siren Queen- Y/N L/N the captain of the ship The Siren’s Song a bold, arrogant, unhinged pirate who takes what she wants. She is kind to her allies but ruthless to her enemies. A force to be reckoned with. Has a haughty shell but a soft inside. Has a very showy personality, is a drama queen with a flair for the dramatics, but in reality, is very scared and insecure. Became a pirate after her family was trying to force an arranged marriage on her she decided to turn to piracy, after seeing the injustices women were given she vowed to travel the world, taking in women who needed to escape as well as donating the treasures she steals to those less fortunate. Pretty soon she had built a loyal and terrifying crew, she hopes to rule the seven seas and make everyone bow down to her.

First Mate: Alexandra ‘Alex’ Shelley. Your closest friend, sister level bond. Stubborn and loyal she is a pessimist and sarcastic but that balances out your sunny attitude. She is very brave and is reliable, the rock on the ship that everyone goes to for guidence.

Sailing Master/Navigator: Gwen Stacy a brilliant scholar who may be a bit too confident.

Head of munitions: Lilith ‘The She-Devil’ Wilson, an unhinged daredevil adrenaline junkie who dives in headfirst and regrets it later. She is incredible with explosives, guns, and pretty much any weapon and is a useful asset. They don't tell anyone about their past, but she has a military background.

Head of supplies: Rita Hernandez, is the mother of Carlos and adoptive mother of Pepa. Ran away from her abusive husband and was taken in by the Sirens crew.

Crew members:

Kate: Your blue macaw who is very good at distractions and is your second mate.

Jeff: The ship cat, is fat and black but is an amazing mouser, is usually found with Felicia.

Cookie: The cook and the therapist of the group, has a crush on Rita. Came on board after her pub got taken from her by rich bankers who made the rent too high and she lost everything.

Melody Prescott: The singer who leads shanties and creates songs and lullabies, a wisecracker. Used to be in a traveling circus but was exploited and underpaid, she ran away to join piracy where she found you all

Suki ‘The Silent Siren’ Tanaka: The silent lone wolf who is deadly, twins with Akira. Saved by you from slave trafficking.

Akira Tanaka: Suki’s polar opposite, very loud and bold, her weapon is her tongue, being able to get a person's guard down and Suki goes in for the kill. Was saved by you from slave trafficking

Sunny Anne: The persistent optimist, dating Gale Hallewell. Came seeking adventure

Gale Hallewell: The dark one you know all emo and pessimistic, dating Sunny Anne, is here to make sure Sunny doesn’t get killed

Scarlett ‘The Seductress’ Ali: The Femme Fatale, has dated everyone (except the kids) on the ship, very flirty. Was saved by you from a gang of men who wanted to rape her and decided to take her act on the move

Pint-Sized Pepa: A 12-year-old stowaway who snuck on board one day and just became a part of the crew, Rita is her guardian and is very protective. Pepa is extremely headstrong and honestly a lil feral. Adores Lilith

Hattie ‘The Giantess’ Ahmed: A gentle giant, was also a part of the circus but ran off with Melody.

Peggy Li: The old drunk who knows all the secrets of the trade so that’s why you keep her around, everyone is a bit tired of her, but she was one of your first crew members, and deep down everyone loves her. Has a peg leg.

Xiran Li: Peggy's daughter, she’s tired and fed up with everything but she ultimately loves it all. Gives a lot of snarky comments and jokes

Beastie: Feral feral woman nobody knows where she came from and she’ll never tell. She’s incredibly deadly however and doesn’t hurt anyone so she’s just here for the ride. Is dating Sparrow.

Carlos Hernandez: The 4-year-old wholesome wholesome boy who is Rita’s son. Everybody protects him at all costs

Abuela Gonzalez: The wise grandmother who just sits there and watches it all, she takes care of Carlos and reads him stories but is still ruthless if she needs to be. Rumored to be an ex-bandit but has not confirmed nor denied anything.

Priya Kumar: Literally up for anything and is very go with the flow, was escaping from an abusive husband who was very powerful.

Sparrow: Very stoic and regal, is dating Beastie. From the Tlingit peoples, believes in your mission of giving to the poor.

Anya Petrov: A functional drunk who is very blunt and takes everything literally. You saved her from a bar fight once and once she found out you made your own booze she stayed.

Agatha Stevens: A witch who escaped the persecution of witches in England and joined your crew

Dalia Salah: The doctor on the ship, no-nonsense kinda gal. Decided to join you all after she saw how horribly everyone was doing without her, she also hated the sexism of the medical community.

Josephine ‘Jo’ Roberts: The latest addition to your crew, is extremely inexperienced but determined, also fiercely loyal. Is Cookies apprentice and is skilled at brewing alcohol.

Stormy Owens: A brilliant, sly, and resourceful scholar who is responsible for getting out of any legal troubles as well as creating false identities and keeping track of numbers and such

Petra Parker: A sunny acrobat who is usually up swinging around the ship's sails, came with Hattie and Melody.

Mary Jane 'MJ' Watson: An old friend from your past who joined because she wanted to write poetry and draw your adventures, is nonviolent, and will only use stun moves.

Lonnie Lincoln: An albino African American who escaped slavery to join your crew, is an expert blacksmith.

Felicia Hardy: An expert thief and pickpocket, best friends with Jeff the cat

Olivia Octavius: the former navigator to an American merchant vessel who you kidnapped but she ultimately joined you. Is a self-proclaimed scientist who claims to know how to control the Kraken, she just doesn’t know where to find the Kraken. You agree to help her find the Kraken if she teaches you how to control it. She’s very erratic and scatterbrained and seems to just be an eccentric scientist who’s harmless. But she can be deadly serious if she wants to be and there’s more to her than first meets the eye

#pirate au #piracy #fanfiction #fanfic #spiderman #olivia octavius #pirates #oliviaoctavius #olivia #liv octavius #liv octavius x reader #olivia octavius x reader #gay pirates #queer pirates

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lovelyirony · 5 years

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Sharon being Tony and Nat's (siblings) lovely cousin and the three of them growing up together

Nat came to the Carbonell residence when she was six years old. She didn’t speak a word of English, was fond of stealing the kitchen scissors from Jarvis, and explored every inch of the home and then some.

Tony doesn’t know what to think of this. He is also six, but he knows that scissors are dangerous and that Natasha could fall off the stairway if she wasn’t careful about climbing.

But...she also only spoke Russian.

So Tony asks Jarvis to take him to the library.

Nat comes too, because she likes going everywhere and attempting her escape.

“Natasha,” Jarvis chides, grabbing her hand as she tries to escape from the library. “We are here now. Do not try to leave, that is a mistake.”

Mama says that she misses her home. But no one will tell Tony about her home so that he can try to decorate. Ana gets a pale look on her face, so Tony thinks that maybe Nat’s home was a little different.

He checks out Russian dictionaries, Russian books, and even a couple of movies dubbed in Russian.

Natasha is curious. No one in America has tried to understand her before now, and here is this boy named...Tony, who has skipped out on outdoors time to study Russian.

He is very bad at it. But he can get better.

Natasha thinks that she will learn English, as long as Tony is learning Russian.

They learn together, until Natasha can correct him in what she knows, and then they learn more about each respective language.

Maria realizes that they’re thick-as-thieves now, which only spells trouble out for her. But at least Natasha has stopped trying to pick the locks: Maria was growing tired of finding new places for her chocolate stash.

Tony shows Nat everything. She copies him if she’s not sure how to do something, which is often. Tony shows her how to bake cookies (let Jarvis do most of it, but they get to mix!), he shows her how to read more of the books and choose some for her own, and he shows her pictures.

Sharon is a baby. Natasha doesn’t get all the fuss about babies. They’re just babies. They cry, sometimes they smell, and sometimes they eat food that tastes disgusting. Nat voices this opinion before Sharon comes to visit, and Ana and Jarvis laugh.

“Yes, that is true, Young Miss,” Ana says. “But they also happen to be quite cute.”

Natasha does not think Sharon is cute. She is crying when her parents leave. Natasha is a big girl who only cries sometimes. (And Tony makes sure not to tell when it’s only a nightmare.)

But Tony is infatuated. He wants to hold her, care for her, but doesn’t get too involved with changing the diapers. He lets Mama and Jarvis handle that.

“Would you like to hold the baby?” Maria asks Natasha. “She doesn’t bite.”

“Babies don’t have teeth, of course she doesn’t bite,” Nat answers. Jarvis hides a giggle behind his hand.

But Natasha holds her anyway.

She sort-of understands why babies are cute, she guesses. Sharon has soft hair, and she’s wearing a cute leotard with lions on it.

From then on, Sharon is Nat and Tony’s favorite, which they show off at every family party, much to everyone’s amusement.

While there is a clear age difference, Nat and Tony never let Sharon feel like she’s an outsider. Anything Sharon wants to play, they’ll usually do it. (Tony doesn’t like playing Barbies, but sometimes Sharon adds a pirate story-line that makes it somewhat bearable.)

When they start up school, Nat and Tony are always the ones to walk Sharon into school.

Even if they don’t go there anymore and are late to their first or second day. It’s worth it.

Sharon and Nat work well together, and both want to try going into the force of FBI or CIA, and staunchly deny any TV influence over it. Rather, it’s because of Aunt Peggy, who tells them all about her most classified cases and gets into a spot of trouble with the new boss of her private practice.

(Apparently, telling teenagers about a dangerous time in Canada is frowned upon.)

Tony and Sharon have the same love of food, often cooking together and filling out their ranking list on both pies and burgers.

Growing up, they do tend to drift apart at times. Lord only knows how many times Nat got pulled away to work, Sharon seeing the other side of their shared dream job. Tony gets busy running his own company, and they don’t talk for a while.

But it always circles back round, and it’s like they never left each other as they hound the rolls that Ana always makes for Christmastime or help Mama lug out all the Christmas decorations for the year.

(With one added skeleton from Natasha, who finds it hilarious.)

They keep each other close, although the others don’t know. Tony always has the picture of them at Venice in his wallet, right underneath his driver’s license. Natasha keeps a picture-strip from the last family wedding, where they all piled into the photo-booth and nearly knocked each other over with how hard they were laughing. Sharon keeps pictures of them in her phone and has one picture framed in her house and one in the glove-box of her car.

Nat, Tony, and Sharon really are the best family each other has.

#lovelyirony writes #nat! tony! sharon! trio of god!#natasha romanoff #tony stark #sharon carter #carbonell family #fun fact i just say 'fuck howard' and then never write him anywhere #maria is BI and THRIVING #she has a crush on the next door NEIGHBOR

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aswithasunbeam · 6 years

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Of Undisturbed Snow and Unraveled Stockings

[Read on AO3]

Summary: It’s the eve of Saint Nicholas Day, and the Hamilton’s are hanging stockings by the chimney with care...

A fluffy Christmas hamliza one-shot with little Philip and Angelica

December 1785

A gust of wind beat at the parlor window, and a draught of cold air followed though the gap in the curtains where Hamilton and Pip were peeking outside. The three year old could barely see over the window sill. Eliza adjusted a warm woolen blanket more securely over herself and her one year old little daughter.

“The street’s completely covered already,” Hamilton announced, glancing back at her with visible excitement. Although November had brought frost and freezing temperatures, they’d made it through almost a week of December before experiencing the first snow of the season. Her husband had been gleefully watching the white powder accumulate all evening.

She smiled fondly. “Now that you’ve had your update, could you close the curtain, please? You’re letting in cold.”

He looked a little contrite as he ushered their son away and secured the heavy curtains. “Sorry, Betsey.”

“It’s snowing, it’s snowing,” Pip sang to himself as he wiggled in the middle of the room.

Hamilton grinned at the boy as he stoked the fire with one of the irons they kept by the hearth. The flames crackled and danced as he coaxed them higher. “Better?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I think it’s time to hang the stockings. What do you say, Pip?” Hamilton suggested as he replaced the fireiron, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.

“Stockings!” Pip exclaimed, dashing over to the basket where Eliza had stored the specially knitted, colorful stockings for each of their children. He handed his blue and white striped stocking over to his father first and bounced on his toes excitedly as Hamilton hung it carefully on the mantle.

Rather than hand over the red and white striped stocking as well, Pip strained his pudgy arms up towards the hook, a look of determination on his face. When Hamilton tried to take it, he whined, “I want to do Geli’s.”

Pip had been small enough when Angelica was born that he struggled to say her full name, and he’d stuck with the rather odd nickname over the past year despite Eliza’s best efforts. Hamilton had hardly been a help. “She’s soft, squishy, and somehow always sticky. I think Geli is a perfectly appropriate name,” he’d insisted as he’d pinched their daughter’s cherub cheeks last time she’d brought it up. And so, ‘Geli’ their little girl remained.

“All right,” Hamilton chuckled and dropped his end of the stocking. “How about I give you a boost?”

Pip seemed to consider for a moment before agreeing. Hamilton lifted him up easily and directed his little hand towards the hook. “Well done,” he praised as he set the boy down.

Scurrying over to her and his little sister, Pip said proudly, “Look, Geli, I hung your stocking.”

“What a good big brother you are,” Eliza praised.

“Pip,” Angelica added succinctly, with one of the very few words she’d mastered, as she sat forward to try to reach said big brother.

Hamilton came up behind Pip, plucked him up by his armpits, and swung him onto the sofa while Pip giggled with delight. She freed Angelica to crawl off her lap and sit beside Pip as Hamilton settled himself on the sofa as well.

Pip pet his little sister’s dark curls like she was a favorite plaything. He’d always doted on her. When Eliza first let her son hold the infant, seated on this very sofa surrounded by pillows, he’d stared down at her with big eyes and declared firmly, “She’s my baby.” Angelica had seemed quite pleased with that arrangement ever since.

“Shall I tell a story of Saint Nicholas?” Hamilton asked.

Pip nodded happily.

“And then time for bed,” she added.

Pip’s nose wrinkled with displeasure, but he held his tongue at Hamilton’s raised brow.

Another gust of wind beat against the window as her husband began to recite the story of Saint Nicholas bringing gold to the three daughters of a poor man to save them from a life of slavery. She drew the blanket closer against the cold and rested her hand over her slightly rounded stomach as she listened. Pip looked enthralled as he gazed up at his father. She reached out to tousle the boy’s hair while he listened.

“That’s why, every year, Saint Nicholas flies in his wagon to deliver gifts to all the good boys and girls in Christendom.”

Pip snuck a glance at her as he requested, “Tell another story, Papa.”

“Another story?” Hamilton echoed with a wry smile. He glanced down at Angelica, who’d fallen asleep on her brother’s shoulder even before the second daughter of the poor man had found a golden ball in her stocking.

“The cupbearer story,” Pip specified.

Amusement lit Hamilton’s bright blue eyes as he met her gaze. She smiled back and allowed, “One more story.”

Pip settled in happily to listen to an abbreviated version of how Saint Nicholas rescued a young boy who’d been kidnapped by pirates and forced to serve a foreign king by carrying about his golden cup. When Hamilton came to the end of that story, Pip was blinking heavily. He asked, around a great yawn, “One more?”

“Tomorrow,” Hamilton replied gently. “It’s bedtime.”

“But I’m not sleepy,” Pip insisted.

“You look sleepy,” Eliza teased, tickling the little boy’s tummy gently. Pip squirmed and grinned up at her with one eye closed. She reminded him, “If you don’t go to sleep, Saint Nicholas won’t be able to leave you any presents.”

Hamilton heaved Pip off the sofa. “All right, off to bed with you.”

Eliza eased Angelica into her arms and followed, careful not to wake the little girl lying limp against her shoulder. Angelica went down without waking, and she found Hamilton waiting for her in the hallway when she went to say goodnight to Pip. “He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow,” her husband informed her.

He followed behind her back downstairs, where she intended to cuddle up with the blanket and another hot cup of tea after quickly setting up for the morning. When the stockings were prepared and the cookies were nibbled, she settled back onto the sofa, and Hamilton paced over to the window to peek outside again. She shook her head. “Is it still snowing?”

He grinned at her.

“Let’s go outside.”

She raised a brow skeptically. “It’s freezing outside.”

“It’s snowing,” he said, as though that were any kind of answer. His lower lip jutted out playfully. “Please?”

“You’re mad,” she told him.

He nodded, still wearing that contagious smile of his. “Most definitely.”

She could never resist that smile. Thus, minutes later, bundled in her warmest cloak, she found herself stepping out into the freezing, snowy night. The lamplighter had come by despite the storm, she noted, as the streetlamps cast a warm golden glow over the white streets, the light reflecting beautifully so that the fresh snow seemed to sparkle. Hamilton paused at the bottom of the stoop and looked up at the fast falling flakes.

“Have you ever tried to catch a snowflake on your tongue?” she asked, pausing aside him. “Angelica, Peggy, and I used to do it for the first snow of the year. It’s good luck.”

She stuck her tongue out to demonstrate when he looked over at her. He laughed jovially and turned his face back up towards the sky as he copied her. Their breath created puffs of white smoke in the frigid air. As she watched him try to catch snowflakes, she wondered anew at his love of winter. She knew he’d been deprived of snow during his childhood, but after all the horror of winters with army, she expected the novelty would have worn off.

“What is it with you and snow?” she asked aloud.

He retracted his tongue and looked at her. “I love it.”

“Why?”

“It makes me think of you,” he answered simply. “It was snowing when we met, and when we got married, and when I came home from the war. Good things happen in snow.”

She felt her smile grow crooked and silly at the explanation. Stepping over to him, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a long, slow kiss. When she pulled back to look up at him, he added, “See?”

She laughed and kissed him again. The streets were empty due to the storm, the hush of winter heavy around them as they stood in the glow of the streetlight. She rested her head against his chest and soaked in the quiet.

He pressed a kiss to her temple after a few long moments, and said, “I keep forgetting to tell you, invited the Baron for dinner tomorrow.”

She nodded, not at all surprised. Von Steuben’s finances were in such a state, her husband invited him over at every opportunity. “That’s fine. I was going to serve the roast. There should be plenty for everyone.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you had any word on his petition to Congress?”

“Nothing,” he sighed. “I wrote to the General last week. I’m hoping he’ll be able do more.”

She squeezed him tight, and a comfortable silence fell over them again. After a few more quiet moments, she asked, “Was there something particular you wanted to do in the snow? Or can we go inside now?”

He hummed in consideration for a moment. She swore she could hear the smile grow on his face when he’d come to a decision. “Snow angels,” he announced definitively.

She glanced around. “Where? In the street?”

“No one’s coming.”

She snorted. “Famous last words. How am I supposed to explain the hero of Yorktown being run over by a sleigh?”

“Tell them I died as I lived,” he said with a grin.

“Being ridiculous?”

He laughed. “No. Being an angel.”

She groaned at the joke, which only made him laugh harder.

“Come on, Betsey. Come play with me,” he insisted, taking her by the hand and walking them out into the middle of the street. He tugged her down beside him to lie flat on the undisturbed snow. The snow gave a satisfying crunch underneath her.

She spread her arms and legs out wide to create the proper shape. “I haven’t done this since I was little,” she observed, feeling curiously happy to relive the experience. “The trick is getting up without ruining the effect.”

“What’s the trick?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I can manage it now; I’m old and pregnant.”

After one false start, she managed to sit up without putting her hands in the snow and then slowly achieved a standing position. Once she was up, she took a great leap away so as not to leave footprints in the snow directly around the angel imprint. Hamilton copied her, landing close beside her and turning around to enjoy their creations.

“Perfect,” he judged with a single nod.

The snow was still falling steadily around them. In the distance, she heard the muffled sound of sleigh bells. She smirked at him. “And I thought no one could be out in this weather?”

“I stand by that. It must be Saint Nicholas,” Hamilton decided with a teasing lilt.

“I see. Are you hoping he’ll bring you something?” she teased back.

“No.” His expression was warm and soft as he ran his right thumb over the slight swell of her belly beneath her cloak. “I already have everything I want.”

He kissed her gently, and at last suggested, “Let’s go back inside.”

They trooped back up the stairs and into the house, where they unbundled and shook the fine coating of snow from their coats. “It’s getting late. Are you ready for bed?” she asked, entwining his icy fingers in her own.

“You go ahead. I just want to check that the fire’s tapered down before we retire for the evening.”

She squeezed his palm lightly before releasing his hand and heading upstairs to change for bed. She poked her head into the children’s rooms on her way by and found both of them still fast asleep. The maid had stoked the fire in their bedroom earlier, but even the warmth of the roaring fire wasn’t enough to entirely beat back the chill. Hamilton followed a few minutes behind her and changed quickly into his nightshirt as she snuggled down into the blankets.

“It’s so cold,” he complained as he wiggled under the blankets and pulled the bed curtains closed behind him. Pressing his icy hands to her face, he added, “Feel.”

She jumped and pushed his hands away. “You’re the one who wanted to go outside.”

“But now I’m cold,” he insisted, scooting closer to her. She shook her head as he tugged the blankets around himself and slide down so that his head rested against her stomach and his arm wrapped tightly around her. “That’s better.”

“Comfortable?” she asked.

He nodded against her and dropped a kiss to her belly. She tenderly ran a hand through his hair, still slightly damp from the snow, and shifted to get comfortable. Sleep claimed her quickly.

“Stockings!”

The excited exclamation jolted her out of a sound sleep. Her husband bolted up in bed beside her.

“Wake up! Stockings! Stockings! Stockings!” Pip continued, jumping up and down on their bed.

Hamilton rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. “We’re up, Pip. No more jumping.”

“Stockings!” With one last shout, he scurried off the bed and out the door, where they heard him shout, “Stockings, Geli!”

Hamilton laughed and looked down at her. “I think he wants to do stockings.”

“So I gathered,” she replied, forcing herself to sit up as well.

They heard two sets of tiny footsteps charging towards the stairs as they pulled on their thick winter robes. “Pip, don’t take your sister on the stairs!” Hamilton shouted, racing out into the hall still tying his robe about his waist.

“I showed her how to do it safe, Papa,” she heard Pip reply as she rushed out of the room a step behind him.

She nearly ran smack into her husband’s back at the top of the stairs. Peeking around him, she saw both Pip and Angelica scooting slowly down the steps on their bottoms, a little thump accompanying each step they successfully navigated. Hamilton had taught Pip to go down that way when he was two, and decided he was much too old and independent to be carried down the steps anymore. Hamilton craned his head back to meet her eye and shrugged.

They made it down the stairs safely, albeit at a snail’s pace. When they made it to the last step, Pip took off flying towards the parlor. Angelica hopped up and went to rush after him. Although she’d mostly mastered the art of walking, she suffered from the unfortunate tendency of looking everywhere but the direction she was going; she predictably ended up splayed out on the foyer floor.

Hamilton bent down and helped her up. “Are you all right, honey?”

She took off running towards the parlor again without answering.

“I guess she’s all right,” Eliza commented with a smile.

He chuckled and shook his head as he straightened up, then held his hand out to take hers. They entered the parlor together and paused in the doorway, both their jaws going slack. In the minute they’d paused the help Angelica, Pip had managed to get his stocking down from the mantle. Or, rather, had almost managed to get his stocking down from the mantle. The stocking had snagged on the hook, and a long piece of blue yarn stretched from the mantle to Pip.

“Philip,” she said sternly, moving towards him.

He laughed and raced away, stretching the yarn even further. The stocking had half unraveled by the time she caught him around the middle. Pip held an orange triumphantly in the air; he was fittingly punished with kisses and tickles.

“Come here, little angel,” she heard Hamilton encourage behind her. Angelica tottered over to him to look at her stocking. “What’s in here?”

“What else did Saint Nicholas leave for you, my little monster?” she asked Pip.

Pip thrust his hand into the half-unraveled stocking and pulled out two more oranges, a sack of marbles, and three chocolates.

“Dolly!” Angelica cried, cuddling a little rag doll to her chest.

She looked over at her husband, and they shared a smile.

When they had both children settled on the sofa, and Eliza was helping Pip peel an orange, Hamilton paced back over to the fireplace and hummed thoughtfully. “What’s this?”

She looked over her shoulder to see him scrutinizing a third stocking hanging on the mantle. Quickly pulling off the rest of the orange peel, she straightened and frowned. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said, eyes wide and tone innocent. “Saint Nicholas must have left it.”

He peeked into the stocking, then smirked at her. “I think it’s for you.”

She shook her head at him as she moved towards him. This was a children’s holiday; they weren’t meant to exchange gifts. She stuck her hand into the stocking. Inside, she found a note and a small box. “To the loveliest of her sex, this small token may benefit from the reflection of your beauty,” she read aloud with a skeptical smile. “My, Saint Nicholas is quite the charmer.”

“I’ll have a word with him,” Hamilton assured her with a wink.

She carefully untied the red ribbon and removed the cover. Inhaling sharply, she looked up at her husband. “Oh, Hamilton, it’s beautiful.”

“What is it?” he asked coyly.

She showed him the little diamond pendant, and lowered her voice. “Can we afford this?”

He nodded, his expression softening.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered, removing the necklace from its box and fastening it around her neck. He stepped back to look at her. “There. Beautiful.”

She touched her hair self-consciously, sure she looked a mess after the hectic morning. “I’m sure,” she scoffed.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated.

She kissed him gently. “Thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I feel like I should have something for you, though,” she complained, leaning against him.

His hand stroked over her abdomen lightly once more. “I told you, I already have everything I want.”

She squeezed him a little tighter in return.

The maid brought in tea, coffee, and a light breakfast for them some minutes later. After taking some refreshments, Hamilton beckoned Pip to follow him. The pair laid down on their bellies before the fire, and her husband dumped the sack of marbles out between them. Angelica, still clutching her doll and sporting a face covered in chocolate, crawled into her lap and snuggled up against her.

She had a list of things to do: a stocking to mend, a dinner to prepare, seeing the children dressed and ready for church, seeing that her husband was dressed and ready for church, and on and on. Instead, she took a breath and relaxed back, enjoying the feeling of her little girl in her arms. She watched Hamilton line up a shot and flick a little blue marble with his thumb. Sometimes she’d think she couldn’t possibly love her little family more.

Somehow, she was always proven wrong.

#hamilton fanfic #hamliza #historical hamliza #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #philip hamilton #angelica hamilton #christmas #fluff #hamilton #fanfiction

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enigmasalad · 7 years

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DISNEYWORLD Hamilton thought.

So everyone saves money for Laf’s birthday to go to Disney World. so while everyone is there this happens:

Laf is super freaking happy to meet Cinderella and Belle and he has princess Mouse ears.

Herc meets Meg and Hercules and gets challenged to an arm wrestling duel (which he wins)

During the Pirates of the Caribbean ride Alex keeps saying “this sucks” or “this isn’t what home was like. ” or “where the hell is Johnny Depp? I was promised Johnny Depp.”

John being a complete gentleman to the princesses and them being like “oh what a well mannered prince” and he’s like “nah I’m just from the south. ”

Thomas hanging out with Jasmine and the two being sassy as hell.

James almost crying cause he meets Eeyore and Piglet and he loves those two so much and when they hug him he cries.

Burr singing with Tiana and they’re killin it.

Angelica meeting Mulan and Merida and does Badass poses with them.

Eliza and Snow White singing and dancing together.

The princesses taking a liking and comforting Maria and being such awesome girls.

JOHN MEETING MOANA AND THE TWO HAVE A BLAST TALKING ABOUT THE OCEAN AND TURTLES.

Peggy doing poses with EVERY character. Like with villains she poses evil like and with princesses she pretends to be elegant and badass and with the other characters (like Mickey, Minnie, Goofy all of them) she is silly.

Laf being super freaking excited over everything and then getting to Epcot’s France and being like “This is…disappointing” but still being excited.

Herc dancing with Laf when they hear “Beauty and the Beast” and everyone staring in wonder. In fact Belle comes over and is like “aw heck yeah”.

Thomas loosing James in the massive crowd so everyone is looking for James. They find him eating cookies on a bench cause he got stressed out.

Alex and John meeting Ariel and Alex being all excited to meet her and singing with her and John is like “YEAH! LOOK AT MY CUTIE BOYFRIEND!!”

The Schuyler sisters meeting Elsa and Anna and taking one huge Sister pick with Angelica and Elsa in the middle.

Eliza and Maria meeting Minnie and having a grand old time.

Eliza getting Maria to dance with her in Main Street.

The Hamilsquad going on the Safari thing and when it’s mentioned poachers got the baby elephant John quietly says “those motherfuckers”.

They all go in the haunted mansion and these things happen;

Herc screams.

When the voice asks for any volunteers to die and live in the house James raises his hand.

James keeps saying “Welp looks like I made it home alright.”

Alex accidentally screams “SHIT” when something pops up.

The Schuyler sisters +Maria and Burr scream and laugh

(That’s all for the HM)

Burr managing to woo a lot of the princesses. Except Jasmine. She’s too sassy.

Laf having custom make Belle and Cinderella inspired outfits made by Herc.

Laf meeting Gaston and Gaston is like “Okay maybe just this once I’ll kiss a man. ” and he kisses Laf on the cheek.

The princesses being taller than James and cooing over how cute and small he is and he’s just shy.

EVERYONE BEING TALLER THAN JAMES AND COOING OVER HOW CUTE AND SMALL HE IS.

All the Hamilton people waiting in line for a ride and doing a freestyle rap thing about Disney characters and everyone else enjoys it.

A little girl asking Laf if he’s a prince.

Thomas carrying James on his shoulders when he gets tired.

Alex and John singing at meals like “hakuna matata” and “Strangers like me”

(Anyone who does fanart or Fanfics of this..Please give the proper credit play? ;3)

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

Text

Sticking with the Schuylers (Interlude 4)

We had so much Church discourse the other day that he had to get something of of the deal. (A reminder that this is a modern AU). In any case...Grey’s Anatomy once did an episode titled Japril the Movie...I present to you Johnica (wtf would their name be help me) the Movie.

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Tagging: @linsnavi @butlinislin (I got the tags to work finally bless)

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse.

John Church is not a man of many words; for years he had been deemed as mostly stoic, a social pariah destined for nothing more than solitude. Not that he minded. No, even at a young age he had preferred nothing more than his own company. The Americans just didn’t get things the way he did. They never understood his humor, or even the things that he said. His tongue was often tied in a knot and suctioned to the base of his mouth, his face reddened by the sting that came along with laughter and squished up, taunting expressions.

His life in England had been fine-great, even. Schooling had been the best part of it all. From kindergarten on his marks were high and his usually quiet nature brought about excellent reviews from his teachers. His social life consisted of friends he’d grown up with; private school mates who’d been mucking up their khakis and playing recreational football from the day they could walk. They all lived around the same little block of identical brick townhouses, the kind that were so squished together that walls were shared with neighbors and windows were only in the front or back of the house. John and his friends were frequent flyers on that cobblestone street, moving from house to house in what they pretended to be the life of gypsies, or pirates bound to the land. Life in England was familiar; comfortable.

John immediately set himself apart in his schooling by taking the advanced math class. His grades had been enough to warrant a letter accompanying his transcripts, praising his smarts and his ability to decipher complex word problems. His mind is different, they’d said. What they should have said is that he is different. And although he had close friends, a good family, and a peaceful childhood, it never felt like enough.

Aside from his group of pre-determined friends John sought solitude; the peace of a quiet night, his little back bedroom littered with model cars he liked to build. Everything was better as a puzzle-a riddle waiting to be solved. Putting things together had been his strong suit in this sense. His father often could not buy the model sets faster than John could build them. So some nights, with no homework to be done and nothing to tinker with, he would sit by his bedroom window with a plan in his mind. At eleven, he’d had it all figured out. He’d finish school with high marks-high enough to get into Oxford. It was an end goal his parents could brag about; ‘our son wants to go to Oxford.’ His mother would get a particular shine in her eyes every time she said it, one that transferred seamlessly through the air to him on clouds lifted by his dreams. It held him up, kept him to a standard he could not ignore. Oxford was his end goal, but then there was more. In his quiet house, with his hushed and stoic family, eleven year-old John Church wanted nothing more than approval. He wanted nothing more than pride.

So when his father earned a fellowship at the New York Presbyterian hospital, he’d smiled and nodded and let them pack up all of his things into cardboard boxes. “It’ll be alright,” they’d said; “This is a wonderful opportunity.” And his father had smiled, and rubbed his fuzzy-haired head, and taped up another box. Quiet, solitary John would be moving to the big city. He was less than thrilled.

Being the new kid was something he anticipated as a rough experience; there wasn’t a novel he’d read that had depicted the occurrence as pleasant and life-changing, at least not in the beginning. His hopes were low when he walked into his first day at the school in the Upper East Side, bearing khakis and collared shirts not unlike the ones he’d been wearing his entire life. If life was going to continue changing, at least his uniform wasn’t. The hot burn of eyes on him carried him through the halls on rapid feet, moving from one place to another in the form of retreat rather than excitement. He felt none of the bubbling, tingling wonderment described so delicately in the novels he’d read on the plane. The beauty of a new place, the opportunity to start fresh…John had never wanted any of that. Exciting, at this point, meant nothing more than agonizing. Twelve years old seemed to be the worst age to start school.

Twelve year old John kept his silence and his privacy when he moved to America. He kept the knack for puzzle solving, although now it was complex equations in math class rather than model cars. Those had been left in England, an uncharacteristic nod of disapproval to his father’s decision. John remained stuck to one group of friends, those who’d also made the football…no, the soccer team. And although he wasn’t that great at the sport, it carried him into just enough of a social life to squeak by. He wasn’t popular. He wasn’t a nerd. He hung in the threshold of it all, quiet and gangly and gaining nothing more than a life he hadn’t wanted and a few rounds of pre-pubescent pimples.

Middle school went this way; an assortment of awkward moments squished into a vignette of unwarranted trips to the dean’s office (John, of course, being completely innocent in the pranks of his teammates) and walks down to the deli for sandwiches and giant cookies after school. He enjoyed the scheduled time with his friends-it was less of a hassle to socialize when their circle held more friends, where he could sit back and laugh without worrying about contributions to the conversation. Even though they were not the bike riding, puddle splashing boys he’d shared his childhood with, these kids were alright. Trips to the deli became ritual he actually looked forward to. In time the uniform bearing, joke throwing soccer boys finally felt like family; even if they got him in trouble too many times to count.

The deli is where John Church’s life in America grew fuller, more vibrant. As twelve turned to thirteen, he was met with the news that his father had taken a position as the interim head of neurology at the hospital. It was good for his father, who was beaming when he came through the door that night with the news. It was good for his mother, who’d joined a circle of moms from the soccer team, and relocated her therapy practices to an office uptown. John smiled at their happiness, their success. If they were happy, he could be happy too. He would stay as long as they needed him to.

At thirteen, he finally felt himself wearing that beaming grin his parents sported so often. He began to understand.

He’d been at the deli with his teammates, drinking lemonades and splitting giant cookies and causing a harmless sort of ruckus. It wasn’t too crowded that afternoon, the only traffic coming from the typical sets of people they’d see every day. There was the mother and her four children, looking frantic and scattered as her little ones begged for treats and touched everything in the shop. Then there was the group of men on their bikes, who looked over at the soccer team with a sort of reminiscent pride that had them joking about their future. John and his team sat in their regular booth at the same time every afternoon. These people were familiar, a sort of community in their own right. That’s why, when the unfamiliar faces strolled in, all eyes turned toward them.

She led the small pack, a well-conducted cocktail of confidence and protection tucked into bootleg jeans and an orange top. She wore her hair in an assortment of tiny braids moving down her back, with beads that clicked with each of her steps. John looked on in wonder, even when the conversation between his friends began to die down and the room grew silent. The braided girl held hands with two others; a fairer-skinned girl stayed closer to her side, not much smaller than her in height. She surveyed the room with a smile and kept close to the other two girls, greeting the man at the counter with a soft voice. Their other companion was small, with a voice that filled the deli as the oldest of the three shook her head.

“I only promised you one ice cream, Peggy, not three. Daddy only gave us enough for that.”

She tugged the two girls through the line with a purpose, letting them each pick something out before paying. He still hadn’t stopped looking, even when the girl noticed him and his friends. She rolled her eyes, glancing between her companions before moving in their direction.

“Is there anything else you boys have to do than stare?” Her eyes were a hard accusation as they scanned the table, the other girls following shortly after. He was immediately intimidated, but his friends were not shaken. In fact, one of them even cracked a confident smile.

“Have fun in Bermuda, Angelica?”

“We did, thanks.” John attempted to hide the pique in interest he’s sure he’d begun to show. This girl is unusual; she does not flaunt herself in front of them. She doesn’t throw herself at their table, or bat her eyelashes…her tone is even and even a little harsh. The way she held herself was refreshing. He smiled too.

“Do you guys have a game this week?” It was the girl in the middle, with sleek hair and a moon-shaped face, who spoke next. This time, John responded.

“We have one tomorrow and another on Saturday.”

“You’re new.” Angelica turned her attention to him and his face grew warm. His throat closed, his words stuck between the tip of his tongue and the inside of his mouth. They clogged his brain until all he could do was shrug his shoulders. His friends watched. They snickered. He understood why this girl doesn’t know him; he’d never seen her before, although she seemed to know all of his friends. But then, she seemed to know everybody. She and her friends (her sisters, he would be later corrected) had been called by name by everyone in the shop, a place he’s been nearly every day since joining the soccer team two years ago. The more he attempted to rationalize, the redder his face grew. Why doesn’t this girl know him?

“Not really new, I moved here two years ago from London.”

“Oh. Well, new to the team then.”

“Two years on the team, too.” His friends were now near giggling, if one could call the irritating sound of freshly-teenaged teasing a giggle. There’s that feeling again, the need for model cars and rainy weather and his little back bedroom. Her sister Eliza apologized to him immediately, flustered for something she hadn’t even started. Angelica took no hint from this. Instead, she nodded.

“Well then, just new to me I guess. Your name?”

“John. Yours?”

“…Angelica Schuyler. I guess I’ll see you around, John.”

…

By fifteen, life in England felt like a distant memory. It was near enough to call upon, to access in his memory as if it had just been yesterday. But John was aware of the fact that England had just been a small fraction of his childhood. At this point, with his father in a completely blissful (and unusual) state and his mother gaining new clients every day, he understands that the interim piece of this move isn’t so temporary anymore. And at this point, he began caring less and less about moving back.

From that first meeting in the deli, John had realized that Angelica was in his grade. At fourteen, she was in three of his classes. She sat herself next to him, taking steady notes and chatting with him in between. He enjoyed her company, the way she filled the room with conversation and kept her opinions short and not-so-sweet. There was always a point to be made with Angelica, who took most of life in stride and threw back whatever was given to her with a vengeance. She was loud, and unapologetic. And as her father’s political popularity grew, hers did socially.

She never ignored him.

John Church was still quiet, and shy. He still believed in his ‘scheduled socialization’ ritual. But then, things grew to be different. He didn’t mind when Angelica showed up at his house unannounced. He answered her sporadic calls, listened to her rants and gave his feedback. And then, she’d asked him to get ice cream with her.

“…As a date.” She’d said, with her eyes set and one hand resting on her hip. “I think I want to date you.”

…

At seventeen, John Church had his life completely figured out. Angelica Schuyler was the source of his epiphany, standing by his side even after two years together. Life seemed so different now, in a place where the taxis and the deli and museum dates had become familiar. And he’d eased into it, this transition, in a way that when somebody mentioned London, he realized he hadn’t been missing it-or thinking about it-at all. This was his home now. She was his home. While his father gave lectures on difficult procedures and his mother pestered him about college he worked his way through the subway; through an afternoon job he’d insisted on getting so that he could do things properly, spend money that was his own. Most of it went to Angelica, anyway. That’s what made him happy.

She walked through her life just the same as she had when they were fifteen. Angelica Schuyler was a form of tropical storm he’d been lucky enough to chase. He hung around her brilliant words, billowing like clouds above her and shaped in the form of her opinions. She was the outgoing one, with the ability to craft a sentence from mid-air and send it flying through a room of diplomats who were always waiting to catch it. John watched this all in awe, always wondering just how she was able to captivate so many people, to change so many opinions. And at this age, in the second year of their relationship, John craved that power. Not for himself-he liked quiet, he enjoyed it. At seventeen, he wanted the power of persuasion to change his father’s mind from making a decision so unlike himself that it physically pained him.

“We’re moving back to London.” His father was firm; terse. A dispute at the hospital had set him this way, to where he felt he could no longer even stay in the same city as the doctors that had wronged him. When John agued, he pushed back twice as hard. There was no breaking this man. Richard Church had always been set in his ways. There had been no discussion about leaving London, and now there seemed to be no clear way for John to stay in the city.

He fought. As the days grew closer to their moving date he became a boiling, tense sort of angry his father had never seen before. He slammed doors, and stormed through the house, pulling pieces of behaviors from what he had seen on television. No longer could he feel the pull that had been with him since childhood. His father’s excitement as he packed up their things was not beautiful, or inspirational. It did not fill him with longing to please. There was something else on his mind, something bigger.

She’d always been bigger than anything else in his life.

Which is why, when she’d agreed to leave town with him for the weekend in protest of the move, he nearly cried. She’d spent just as much of these days compiling argument after argument of why John should stay, at least finish out his last year of high school in the states. Then, at least they’d have more time. Then, they’d have a year rather than one month. Angelica couldn’t handle the idea of his leaving; John read her filtered conversations and hushed tones as such, and he’d been right. She carried herself differently upon hearing the news. She was heavier. They spent their summer nights unable to be separated. They became a single entity instead of two people. She’d always said she’d never act in such a way.

She’d snuck him into their pool house in the Hamptons a day before they decided to skip town. He’d cooked her dinner, and when her parents left he’d gotten a shock when Angelica bounded out of the bathroom wearing something lacy which left more skin exposed than covered. He’d said they didn’t have to do anything but she’d insisted, quoting poetry by strong women in a whispered voice and convincing him that two years had been a long enough wait to have sex. That was followed by a night swim, and a declaration, and a plan to show their parents just how serious they were.

It surprised John just how easy it was to get away from his parents; to feel no remorse and to bask in the glow of Angelica’s company. They were seventeen when they decided to run away together. It was only a weekend-a fraction of their history-but even then he’d known the truth. He didn’t need his father’s pride, or his mother’s half-cracked smile. No, what John Church needed more than anything else was Angelica Schuyler by his side.

At seventeen, their jaunt had made his parents so angry, so infuriated, that they’d decided John should stay in the states. Their reasoning made no sense to him; he was happy here, shouldn’t a punishment mean taking something away from him instead of giving him what he wanted? His parents had always been book smart, too busy to treat John as a child and now too wrapped in themselves to care whether their form of punishment would work. He did not complain. He barely said a word until he got to the Schuyler mansion, throwing himself at Angelica and relaying his parents’ words to her. His father was disappointed, and Phillip Schuyler hated him, but none of those things mattered. He would not live his life to please other people. He would live his life for her smile.

At eighteen, he tossed his acceptance to Oxford in the trash and cherished his letter from Columbia. His parents were disappointed. He didn’t care. John made new dreams, goals involving business and remaining in the bustle of the city-this city-for the rest of his life. His problem-solving mind worked wonders with the curriculum he was given and the internships he fought hard to earn. And Angelica, she was a spitfire meant for nothing but law. Her arguments were still as compelling as the day they’d first met, at thirteen years old.

They stayed together. Against what everyone else had said, and predicted, they’d stayed together. It wasn’t as much of a hassle as his friends had made it out to be. They understood each other, Angelica taking note of his quiet spells by granting him privacy and shielding his heart. He stood by her rants, and her arguments. He bought them an apartment, and a fish, and he kept the words he’d never fully said. He’d promised her, through the context of his smile and the commitment he swore, that he would stay.

Now, at twenty-three, he wants nothing more than to leave. Not her; no, never her. In the early morning hours, when Angelica still sleeps peacefully against him, his eyes train themselves on the ceiling. His mind wanders. His heart, which had been so full for so long, feels an incredible pull he hadn’t felt since childhood. The petrichor emerging from the cobblestone streets, pairs upon pairs of yellow rubber rainboots causing droplets of fresh rainwater to litter their clothing, staining it with mud and a dampness felt for the rest of the afternoon. He recalls the pace of life, slower and more introspective than the rough and busy days in New York. And he’s not so sure what this tugging on his heart is until London flashes through his mind for the rest of the week. These are not just memories; this is longing.

His parents are thrilled that he’s chosen to extend his studies at Oxford. Their golden boy has finally come to his senses, finally realized what is right for him. If they harbor dismay over the news of Angelica’s acceptance they do not voice it, which makes John’s heart swell with pride and love and anticipation. His childhood dream is coming true, and the girl he’s loved since high school is going to be right by his side.

For now.

Angelica comes home in a flurry one night, leaving a sparse greeting at the door before running her tropical storm path through their bedroom. She fills a duffle bag with things, ranting about something he can’t decipher until he finally asks her. Eliza is living by herself now. Something must have happened with Alex. She needs to be there for her sister. It isn’t until she’s halfway out the door that she realizes the candles he had set up, adorning the small kitchen table with the meal he had cooked her the night they had first slept together. Her eyes scan the scene, frantic and searching and not quite reaching the reaction he had hoped. They are glossed over, almost, with an indescribable depth that lingers on the surface. It pulls everything from Angelica, stashes away her feelings and replaces them with something else; protection. He knows what she is going to say before she does so he waves her off, blows out the candles and calls it a night. He watches her run to her sister without a second thought, the night of their eighth anniversary. He writes it off as just another night, another fleeting moment. He writes it off until they’ve had the discussion ten times over. Angelica wants to go with him. She’s excited. She just hasn’t had the chance to tell her sisters yet.

It’s a thorn in their side, this weight that drifts heavily over them. It’s a conversation held almost nightly over dinner, with straight tones and exasperation. Angelica has always been his light, a storm he’s wanted to follow. Now, he’s not sure what is happening. Now, the longing for London grows even stronger.

“What’s holding you back?” He asks her this during a particularly long argument, where she has done nothing more than talk circles around herself. She’s just spent another night at Eliza’s, keeping her company. He doesn’t mind it. He loves that she is close with her sisters. However, when she still has not told the person closest to her about the move that is happening in just a few months, he knows that something is wrong.

“What’s keeping you from telling her? You tell your sisters everything so there must be a reason that this particular piece of information has been hidden for so long.”

“I mean I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of stuck.” The words, trapped in her throat, come barreling out all it once. She means to control them, hold them back and let them ring through the air with some semblance of strength. Instead, a shaking begins. Her voice cracks.

“Stuck how?”

“Stuck as in I don’t know if I even want to do it anymore!”

There is a longing, a pull toward his family and his country that John hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d been so excited to return, to acclimate himself into a life he had once loved fully and without care. He’d spent years in America, years wondering when he could go home until finally he had made this country his home. He had dropped the opportunity to return for her once already, at seventeen. He’d dropped everything for her; her family instead of his, her Christmas, her tropical storm shadow.

“I’ve dropped everything for you.” There is a quiver in his voice that resonates clear through their apartment. He holds himself steady, showing offense only in the way his timbre drops and his eyes narrow; slightly, just enough to be noticed.

“Excuse me?”

“I love you, Angelica. I love our home, and your family, and this life, but I…when is it going to be my turn?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what you think! It means hey, I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time rearranging plans and getting tickets together, and re-buying them when you used the money on your sister. And now-now what? Once again you’re going to drop everything, even something that’s very important to me, for Eliza.”

“If you think for a second that I wouldn’t drop everything for her, then you don’t know me.”

“I do know you, that’s the problem.” He throws his hands into the air, carving tracks into the floor where he paces back and forth. He takes a moment, breathing steadily, before settling himself on the couch. He pats the space next to him, inviting her to do the same. John holds her hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this-to showing you everything that England has to offer-for such a long time. I know that Eliza is going through a lot, but I also know that she’s a strong person. She has people here to hold her up. It doesn’t have to be just your job anymore.”

Angelica purses her lips, closing her eyes to let the silence of the moment drown her thoughts. She can still feel John’s presence next to her; the way he stares, attempting to give her confidence where she needs a clear head. He has always been her rock, and she’s always been Eliza’s. She’s never had to choose. Expectation fills the room with a thickness too heavy to stand. There is a line between what is expected of her and what she needs to do. Its thin red trigger point stares at her, burns her with its dagger. And with each passing moment with her feet on either side, everybody is burnt. For once, Angelica is speechless. John shakes his head; her hesitation is proof enough for him.

He’d never minded being a drop in her brilliant ocean until he’d realized what it felt like.

�

#hamilton #hamilton au #angelica schuyler #thanks for your patience everyone #moving is not fun #mine: swts

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rowanartist · 6 years

Text

Fan Fiction Quotes 2017: (part 3)

“You’re going out with Barton. What makes you think you’re in any way qualified to give me relationship advice?”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/366774”>[X]</a>amusing deflection banter

“Bucky, you’ve always needed Steve and me to see the light in you, because you could never see it in yourself. That hasn’t changed.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1578938”>[X]</a>Peggy bring the truth…

“Hey! It’s dumb heroic shit. I don’t do stupid, unless there’s a reason for it.”<a href=“http://atticuos.tumblr.com/post/162595631070/4th-of-july”>[X]</a>yup, sounds like him

“Barnes and Rogers, Brooklyn’s own troublemakers.”<a href=“http://atticuos.tumblr.com/post/162595631070/4th-of-july”>[X]</a>again, yup

“Never felt right pursing any selfish whims when there was so much injustice in the world, so many wrongs begging to be righted.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/8569513”>[X]</a>Bucky. Pirate AU. I really like the art - which is how I found it

“Steve gets to sleep in the middle and Clark and Buck equally love and fear his toes. His body radiates heat, but his damn toes are always cold and what the shit??? He’s so warm and yet?? Why just the toes?!”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/146321475643/wintersupercap-its-like-stucky-but-with-a”>[X]</a>Tumblr head cannon for Steve, Bucky and Clark Kent. I know cold toes!

“He does [sex] more for the happiness and emotional connectivity and that natural high of pleasing the ones he loves the most.”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/146359556273/whats-clarks-favorite-thing-to-do-with-his”>[X]</a>Tumblr head cannon for Steve, Bucky and Clark Kent.

“He’d never even told her he was pansexual (he figured he wasn’t bi because that could potentially discount aliens and since humans are technically “not him” he figured pan made sense). He’s spent a lot of time in the shower thinking about his sexual identity to be honest.”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/146551418443/the-henry-cavill-gifset-i-gave-you-in”>[X]</a>again the wibtersupercap head cannons. Lol. Even if the rest isn’t really my thing at all

“Sex is so very complicated to him. He wants it, he doesn’t want it. It feels good…he’s never in the mood. He wants physical contact…he doesn’t want that much…but yeah sometimes he does? He’s all very confused about himself. ”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/146670061983/oh-my-goodness-clark-accidentally-breaking#notes”>[X]</a>MORE head cannon stuff. Almost done, over halfway. Even not identifying as ace I get this. Relatable, personal .

“Kal could totally be an indicator of “Hey I need attention, love me plz.” ”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/148350083428/for-wsc-they-gotta-call-him-by-kal-or-kal-el-bc”>[X]</a>more head cannon stuff, almost done.

“They feel alone in the world, walking beside people who don’t really belong to them but are there all the same.”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/148353679873/bucky-meets-clark-first-post-ws-after-he”>[X]</a>they being Steve Rogers and Clark Kent - so on point!

“I have all this pent up emotion and nowhere to put it, and my boys are beautifully conveying and taking out their motions while I put my fist through the bathroom mirror.”<a href=“http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/post/155538694443/i-know-this-is-really-random-but-i-came-up-with”>[X]</a>ahhh.

“Steve’s stomach gurgles noisily and Bucky laughs. "If I could move right now, I’d make you pancakes, but it’s going to have to wait until morning.”“<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/319282?view_adult=true”>[X]</a>sex burns calories

“alfred [’s Tumblr]: guns and sometimes miniature cakes”<a href=“http://wantstobelieve.tumblr.com/post/167280173762/hey-i-dont-know-if-someone-has-already-asked-or”>[X]</a>comments

“He wants to live on steamed dumplings from now on.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/4097566”>[X]</a>I’m with you Barnes, they are good!

“He wakes up early in the morning blanketed by the full-size chest of Captain America. Talk about purple mountains’ majesty.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/4097566”>[X]</a>lol

“Steve sleeps in the day when he isn’t out and then he’s up all night, up all night long, finding something to do, jogging, TV, sitting at the window, all night, all night.”<a href=“http://ipoiledi.tumblr.com/post/134324911571/i-love-these-conflict-resolution-stories-were”>[X]</a>yeah, depression

“Steve hops up on the washing machine, swinging his legs – they’re only a couple scant inches off the ground, but he likes doing it”<a href=“http://ipoiledi.tumblr.com/post/133919491831/wow-i-just-binge-read-all-your-fics-since-steve”>[X]</a>relatable

“the tired face of Bruce Banner overlayed with that of the Hulk”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/2264658”>[X: story 2]</a>imagery. Draw.

“Steve from Brooklyn was still there since Bucky could see him. He didn’t need any other assurance.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/2337806”>[X: story 3]</a>comments

“well, i say bopped–it was the sort of wild swing you take with a frypan when someone startles you in the kitchen.”<a href=“http://buckykingofmemes.tumblr.com/post/168013597696/ok-i-officially-feel-like-ive-been-hit-by-a”>[X]</a>hilarious

“led by the bastard child of paul bunyan and lady liberty”<a href=“http://buckykingofmemes.tumblr.com/post/167312802206/how-many-cookies-would-it-take-to-bribe-you-into”>[X]</a>what a way to describe Captain America

“Okay, guys, fair warning, this is gonna get pretty meta pretty fast. Because you know that I love Cap-spotting as much as the next person, and this comm is literally one of the most uplifting places on the internet right now, because it’s first and foremost about human connection and how heroes really are just like us, and they go out to get Chipotle or whatever, and we desperately need that in this shit show that’s called our lives, especially after what happened in NYC.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/3758717”>[ch1]</a>okay, this makes sense, though privacy should also be a thing… Maybe there’s not pictures? Then the continuation!

“[stan the smithsonian guard] also got a photo out of this, and the opportunity to tell cap that his older brother fought in the 107th during the war and knew bucky barnes. cap apparently got a little choked up. can’t blame him.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/4386261”>[ch3]</a>poor guard on duty when Cap took back his uniform… Stan even gets cameos in fics

“and i heard pepper potts might have implied a thing or two right after it turned out bucky was alive, and even the paps are scared shitless of that woman. AS THEY VERY WELL SHOULD BE.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/4386261”>[ch3]</a>oh the things that could get done if Peggy and Pepper were in the same time!

“Other auctioned “items” include a self-defense lesson with Natasha Romanoff, archery practice with Clint Barton and Kate Bishop, and a day in a lab with Tony Stark, and they will all be donated by the happy winners to the beneficiaries of the Youth Program at the Potts Foundation.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/4386261”>[ch3]</a>YEEEEES!

“And it was nice to see that you can come back from something like this, maybe not whole, but at least not completely shattered, you know. Reassuring. ”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/4386261”>[ch3]</a>motivational

“We don’t want Captain America, the hero who’s supposed to represent the majority of Americans, to be someone we can’t identify with at all because of the lifestyle he chooses.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758087/chapters/4386261”>[ch3]</a>a haters comment. Me: so the majority of Americans can’t relate to following one’s heart toward happiness?!

“It’s been nice to have people around him he can indulge skin hunger with as much as his libido.”<a href=“https://morgynleri.tumblr.com/post/168515169593/mcu-heroes-are-villains-agent-and-raindeer-games”>[X]</a>a friwnds Tumblr. I’m not sure (or maybe I just don’t have the energy to analyse it) why this quote stood out to me…

“Sure, he didn’t need glasses, and sure, they were practically useless, but they were badass. Plus they made the world look purple”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/4319715”>[X]</a>not overall relevant but a cute warming read

“Natasha winds up throwing Clint down the garbage chute and if that’s not some kind of metaphor for Clint’s life he doesn’t know what is.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/4319715”>[X]</a>lol!

“Put on one of these obnoxious Christmas monstrosities that Tony has decided to inflict on us and get up to the main floor, because when I say that Santa has been, man has he been.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/2843540”>[X]</a>comments

“Nope, it’s 9am. That is not too early. It’s Christmas, stop being such a Russian humbug and get up.”<a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/2843540”>[X]</a>little 3+1 Christmas fic

#2017 #fan fiction

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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María Sharon for the ship thing prettttty please!

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

Sharon’s the werewolf who is supposed to be careful about who she talks to. This does not stop her from talking to the new woman in town and finding her a bit more attractive than most.

Maria doesn’t know why she’s going home with a local, she usually doesn’t until after. But this woman is different, although she can’t put her finger on it...

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Maria’s a badass pirate who sees a beautiful mermaid trapped in a net and cuts her loose. As thanks, the mermaid--Sharon, so her lulling voice sounds out--protects the ship and makes sure rival ships go down permanently

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Maria’s the sleek dog who looks quite regal, while Sharon cannot stop getting weird stains on her jeans and forgets her witch hat a lot. They get together on well, and Sharon is almost always underestimated.

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

Sharon’s the barista who watches amused as Maria orders coffee every morning for her and her boss. Apparently it’s a High Stakes Security job, and Maria downs her coffee from the get-go. Sharon has the order ready to go each morning, even if she isn’t there.

This leads to Fury making his right-hand-woman go down to the coffee shop and actually ask this woman out.

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

Maria’s the professor who is good if a little intimidating. Sharon’s the sweet TA who always has coffee brought in for Professor Hill, smiles at her when she makes an excellent point, and makes sure the students understand the material if they need some office hours.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

Maria’s the knight who is one of the best-trained knights. She gets put on protection detail for Sharon, which she doesn’t necessarily like. She was trained to pursue threats, villains, and fight for the crown.

Queen Peggy assures her that “believe me...you’ll need your training.”

What Knight Maria wasn’t expecting was a princess who would much rather escape, and is quite good at it.

But not as good as Maria is at finding her.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

Sharon’s the teacher, and Maria has small, silent Bucky as her new charge. Ms. Carter is nice, sweet, and Bucky clocks her as a crush the moment his new guardian sees her.

So of course with his table group of Nat, Steve, and Sam? Well, they can make a match. Call it an extracurricular.

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Sharon writes the Cheesiest, Funniest, Worst Romance-Mystery-Murder books ever. Each title is a horrible pun, the suburban moms love the novels, and Maria hates editing them.

“I hired you, right?” Sharon asks. She brings over cookies and lemonade as a treat and an appeasement for her latest installment, which is a new chief-of-police Harriet, who falls in love with new-small-business-owner Lena.

Maria hates that she’s editing it.

But Sharon isn’t as bad as her books are.

#lovelyirony writes #sharonmaria #13hill #hill13 #anyways LOVE them #maron #sharon carter #agent thirteen #maria hill #they're NERDS and yes i love it

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trexy225 · 2 years

Text

TSS-Chapter 2: Our Hearts Belong to The Sea

Summary: I'm having too much fun writing sea shanties y'all

“So how many crew members-” Jo started to ask. “I like to call us all The Sirens or The Siren Crew or The Siren’s Crew… Honestly, any of those-” You rambled on.

“But if we’re being honest that’s all for formalities, you’re a part of the family now, Jo.” Alex gave the girl a pat on the shoulder.

“What were you asking?” You asked, turning around.

“Oh, I was just wondering… how many… family members are on this ship?” Jo asked.

“Oh! Time for introductions! Alright everyone, line up! Line up!” you clapped your hands and all thirty-two crew members, counting Kate and the fat black cat that took care of the pests on board lined up, and you started going down the line.

“This is Cookie, she’s the cook on this ship, if you find anything that can be somewhat edible, she’ll whip it up into a five-star dish!” you announced. (Did pirates use five stars? No, I don’t think so but shut up it’s ok).

Cookie gave Jo a firm shake and gave a warm smile, Jo smiled back.

Ok so now there’s going to be a huge info dump section, why did I create so many characters? Because they’re fun to make and I googled how many people pirate ships had and it said 15-200 so I thought 30 was good… Let me be, but yeah you can look at the character master list and just skip this chapter if you want, I will be VERY brief at introducing everyone and I will flesh out their characters more as the story progresses.

“And here we have Lilith ‘The She Devil’ Wilson, she’s in charge of anything that can sink a ship to the murky depths below.”

“I also kill people!” She exclaimed proudly.

“...I kind of assumed so.” Jo pointed out, Lilith cackled as they pulled Jo into a hug, she looked over at you.

“I like this one! She has…” they searched for a word. “...fire!” she finally finished.

“I’m glad you think that Lilith.” you led Jo over to Rita, who pulled her into a hug.

“I’m Rita Hernandez, responsible for provisions and overall quality of life here, if you need to talk to anybody, my door is always open… This is my son, Carlos, and my adopted daughter, Pepa.” Rita gestured to the small boy who clutched her hand, and the girl next to her who was playing with a butterfly knife, she offered her hand out to Jo.

“How do ya do? The name’s Pint-Sized Pepa, how old are you?” she asked.

“Sixteen,” Jo answered.

“...Ok we can be friends,” Pepa concluded.

“I like your hair…” Carlos muttered into Rita's skirt, Jo laughed at her hair… it was a mess.

“Thank you, Carlos,” she told the little boy.

“This is our navigator, Gwen Stacy-” you continued.

“I’m the best navigator in the seven seas.” Gwen held out her hand proudly, Jo shook it.

“That’s a relief,” Jo replied, Gwen smiled at that.

“Here are the Tanaka sisters, Suki and Akira-” “We are SO happy to meet you! My sister and I are overjoyed to have a new member of the family!” Akira pulled Jo into a hug, Suki stayed silent, sharpening her Katana, she didn’t look happy to see Jo.

“Don’t worry, she’s always like that.” You reassured Jo. “And here we have Sunny Anne and Glade Hadwell.” “We are going to have so much fun together!” Sunny Anne exclaimed.

“The pirating life isn’t supposed to be fun, it’s dangerous.” Glade countered.

“Glade, honey can you please just let me have this one?” Sunny asked.

Glade sighed and gave a curt nod.

“Now this bunch came from a traveling circus, we managed to get them out of that horrid situation.” you gestured to Melody, Hattie, Beastie, and Petra. Who all waved.

“Here’s Scarlett-” you gestured to the fiery redhead, who gave a flirtatious wink.

“Sparrow, Agatha, Priya, Stormy, Dalia, Peggy, Xiran, Abuela, and you’ve already met Anya.” you introduced, Jo gave a small wave.

“And Lonnie, Mary Jane, and Felicia-”

“With Jeff.” Felicia gestured to the fat black cat she was cradling in her arms.

“Yes, and Jeff. And my right hand, Alexandra… And of course.” you made a grand gesture, Alex facepalmed.

“The one and only Siren Queen! Hoist the sails!” you ordered.

“They’re already hoisted, Captain.” Alex pointed out.

“Oh… yes I suppose they are-” “Who are the women on the sails?” Jo asked.

“They’re our fallen sisters… Not a day goes by where I do not hear their song, I make sure that they get their revenge, that I avenge them. Any siren that falls is honored each and every day.” you stare off into the night sky, a knot in your stomach, you hated losing them. If you could have taken their place, you would have. Luckily your reputation had gotten around, if you murder a siren, you will face the wrath of the siren queen… Now you haven’t had as many deaths… But the injuries were getting more and more severe. You couldn’t lose your crew, they were everything to you.

“How am I going to remember everyone?” Jo asked as the crew dispersed to finish the tasks.

“You will, trust me on that.” Alex patted the girl on the back and handed her a mop.

“...This isn’t the adventure I was expecting,” Jo admitted.

You grabbed a mop as well “I disagree, I see this ship… Well no actually it is quite boring, but we must do it, Melody, a song please?” You asked. Melody grinned as she took out her guitar.

“My lady awaits on the old Irish road, oh my lady she waits for me, I gave her a kiss and I bid her farewell because my heart belongs to the sea! I miss my fair lady every day and night, but the sea she calls to me! I wish I could go back and hold her close, but I’m afraid the sea won’t let me free! Oh that is the song that the old sailor sings as she swabs on the moonlit deck, she looked to me and told me ‘I can’t ever go back for my heart, oh it belongs to the sea!”

“My heart belongs to the sea! I tell her time and time again, oh my heart it belongs to the sea!” Everyone sang along.

“One day I found myself on the old Irish road, my lady still waiting for me! I pulled her in close and I begged her to give her heart to the sea with me. My lady said yes and I shouted with glee, for now, I could have all three. Myself and my lady as well as the sea, it was simply just meant to be!”

“Because in the end…” everyone joined.

“Even if you refuse to believe!” Peggy and Carlos sang.

“Our hearts, they belong to the sea!” You all finished.

Josephine laughed as you all took out your blankets and gathered on the deck, Melody strummed a few strings on her guitar.

“But our families did say that it was not meant to be… That we could not give our hearts to the sea…” Melody sang softly.

“So I took my sea maidens hand and looked into her eyes, and we both dove into the sea.” she continued.

“We both dove into the sea…” she sang.

“Our hearts belong to the sea,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“You’re twenty-one now Y/N and you still refuse to marry, you are humiliating our family!” Your mother scolded, you crossed your arms, scowling.

“I do not want to marry Lord Johnathan, I do not love him! And he’s old and boring and he never listens to me!” you argued.

“We don’t marry for love my dear, this is the only way to ensure our position in the future, don’t you want to become a Lady?”

“No, no I do not. I don’t want to be locked up in some mansion, forced to have children that I do not want while my husband treats me like dirt!” you snapped.

“...You are marrying Lord Johnathan and that is final, you are the only one out of your friends who have not married!”

“Alexandra hasn’t-”

“Alexandra is getting married as well, to Lord Thomas.” your mother snapped, your mouth dropped.

“No… NO!” you stood up and started pacing.

“Do not pace, that’s unladylike.”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it, you fought off tears as you ran into your room. You had to do something… You looked out of your window, the ocean breeze blowing in your hair, you started to smile as a plan formed.

You were going to be free. And you weren’t going to let anyone get in your way.

“My heart belongs to the sea,” you muttered in your sleep.

#gay pirates #fanfic #fanfiction #queer pirates #pirates #pirate au #piracy #read on ao3 #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #i love this au #au #depressed author means frequent updates

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