#back in my Fergus feels

[frasers-of-my-heart]

Wednesday 100: Claire and Fergus wait for Jamie to return from the Bastile post-dinner brawl

Claire sat staring at the fire from one side of the chaise, while Fergus occupied the other.

“Milady?” Fergus finally broke the silence.

“Hm?” She barely focused her eyes on him.

“Milord will return soon, no? He is innocent…” he looked down to his lap, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I’m sure he’ll be home soon, darling, go rest.”

“No, I will stay right here beside you. Milord would never forgive me if I left you to wait alone.”

Claire smiled for the first time all night and pulled the boy down to her lap, looking down at both their children.

[science-fantasy-superheroes]

Big Brother AU

Inexplicably, I had a dream about Pixar’s Brave and now I have a new OC: Hogus, Merida’s older brother. (Thank my dream for the name.) As much as Merida is like Fergus, Hogus is like Elinor. He and Merida get along pretty well, but their parents are kind of the extremes of each other, so it’s a lot harder to connect with them. But Fergus usually lets Hogus slip out of rough-housing when Merida leaps onto his back with a battle cry. And Elinor lets Merida run off and be rowdy more often when Hogus is there and genuinely enjoying her tapestry lessons. Merida still learns proper etiquette, and Hogus still learns how to use a sword, but it’s a lot more bearable and less tense for everyone. Anyway, directly inspired by what I saw in my dream, I wrote a few scenes from when Hogus is 12 and Merida is 8 (about two years before the triplets are born).

[Content Warning: tween death]

As a battle between the clans rages on, Hogus, Merida, and some other kids come riding on horses to spectate from the top of the hill. Merida and the other kids are ensnared by the sight of valiance, but Hogus better understands the gravity of war and death, and though genuinely curious about the battle, his excitement quickly falls into something only meant to mirror the others’.

In the valley, Fergus rides his own horse, slaying down everyone who comes near him. Someone gets in a lucky hit that sends his sword flying out of his hand. His surrounding enemies think they’ve finally got an advantage on him until that same man is stabbed in the gut by a throwing knife, Fergus now wild with the delight of bloodlust. Still, they’re sure he has to run out of throwing knives eventually and close in on him.

The sword landed halfway down the hill, the hilt sticking up in the air as if to summon someone to pick it up. Hogus knows it’s dangerous, but he can’t let his dad get slaughtered. Before he can convince himself otherwise, he charges forward and grabs the sword.

The kids are shocked and start to move closer themselves, but even they are aware that some people don’t come back from the battlefield, and stop before they get too close to danger.

“Dad!” Hogus calls out, waving the sword in the air to get his attention. “Dad!”

But all Fergus sees is someone running at him with a sword. And with an admittedly expert throw, he stabs his own son in the shoulder.

His arm goes limp and he drops the sword.

“Hogus!” Merida screams, immediately snapping Fergus out of it.

The rest of the warriors back off, knowing not to interfere, and the rest of the battlefield gradually comes to a stop.

“Hogus…”

Hogus meets his dad’s eyes, and breaks into tears. He’s not mad or disappointed, he just wants his dad.

Fergus rushes forward, just in time to catch Hogus as he goes limp.

“Dad… I’m sorry…”

“No, no… I’m sorry…” He finally breaks and cries too. “I’m so sorry…”

Back at the castle, Elinor is startled by the front doors slamming open.

“Fergus! What—?” Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of her son. “Hogus…” her eyes fill with tears. She can only watch as he runs past her, yelling for a doctor.

“Mama!” Merida clings to her dress.

“Merida…” She picks her up and hugs her. “What happened? How did…? None of you kids ran into the battlefield, did you?” She wasn’t trying to be accusatory, but she needed to know what happened.

“Only Hogus! But he was just trying to give Dad his sword! And…” She sniffs as more tears start to fall again. “And Dad was throwing knives at his enemies… But then he missed…” She can’t continue and sobs into Elinor’s neck.

She just holds her closer as the horror of what really happened dawns on her and she cries harder too.

Several hours later, Merida nervously waits outside a room.

“Hey, Merida,” her dad finally pokes his head out. He’s exhausted, but smiling. “You can come in now.”

His smile makes her hopeful, so she runs in. “Hogus?” she calls out.

“Hi, Merida,” he waves, smile bright as ever.

“Hogus!” she jumps onto the bed to tightly hug him.

“Ow!” he winces, and Elinor pulls her into her lap.

“Careful,” she gently scolds. “He’s still healing; his shoulder’s a bit sensitive.”

“Oh! Sorry…” she sheepishly apologizes.

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I’m happy to see you too,” he opens up his good arm.

She beams and carefully crawls around to his other side to hug him.

Days pass, and Hogus hasn’t gotten any better. He’s only gotten much worse.

“Mum…” his voice is weak as he struggles to breathe and his eyes are watery. “I… I think…”

“No… No…” she gently runs a hand through his hair, not able to handle hearing what she already knows.

“… Can Dad come see me now?”

She brushes her thumb over his cheek, “Running the kingdom is not more important than you.”

“It kind of is…”

Her hand falls to his good shoulder. “Not this time.”

She looks to Maudie, who dutifully nods as soon as they make eye contact, then exits the room.

“… I’m sorry to leave you guys like this… I don’t know why the will-o’-the-wisps decided this–” he gestures to his shoulder– “for me, but… I don’t regret saving Dad. I just… I wish he didn’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“He’ll be okay.” She squeezes his hand. “I promise.”

“And you, too?”

“…” She glances at Merida sleeping next to him. “We’ll all be okay.”

Just then, Fergus runs in, a bit out of breath. He relaxes at the sight of his son alive and awake, but the panic in his face, the fear, thinking that he was too late…

Elinor can’t take it anymore and lets her emotions spill down her cheeks.

It makes Hogus lose control, and then Fergus can’t hold himself together either and lifts his family into his arms, waking Merida up.

“Hm… Hogus?” she murmurs blearily. She sees the tear streaks on his face and jolts up, looking around at her parents. “Why’s everyone crying? You’re going to be okay, right? You just got sick like when I did! You’re just going to cough for a bit and then you’ll be okay! You’re not…!” She gives up trying to convince herself, and Hogus hugs her as best he can.

Fergus cries all the more. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault; you’re a really good warrior.” He looks up at him. “And a good dad.”

Fergus holds them as close as he can. “I love you, Hogus. I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Dad…”

After a moment, he feels his lung shut down.

“Mum… Merida… I love you, too…”

Merida can only bury herself in her brother’s chest, but Elinor speaks for both of them.

“Oh, my darling, we love you too… We love you, too…”

He squeezes his mom’s hand, presses close to his dad, and hugs Merida tight as best he can. His clothes end up bunched in Merida’s fists, and his parents bury their faces in his hair. They stay together– they stay with him– even after he takes his last breath.

Their grieving period is long– it doesn’t feel long enough– but Fergus finally finds the strength to summon the clan leaders. The meeting is a somber occasion, out of respect. Elinor is present, with Merida nestled in her arms.

“The warring has to stop or our children will be fighting next. And they—” his voice breaks, and he glances at Merida watching him while her head rests on her mom. “They don’t deserve to deal with our issues… So, men, what are your terms of peace?”

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 9

Are you ready?

Since the infant can't talk her thoughts will be in brackets

Fergus: She’s going to be here after school!

Onyx: *unenthusiastically* Yay

Fergus: I thought you wanted to have a sister

Onyx: I do, I’m just feeling sick

Fergus: You should stay home

Onyx: I don’t know

Fergus: Well I know if you go to school Emi is going to end up following you around screaming you’ve got the plague

Onyx sighs as they know their brother is probably right. Willing the swirls on their face to come through in their voice they call in that they’ll be homebound today.

Eliza: Honey you should be napping

Onyx: I was but I needed some juice

Eliza: Okay well please get back in bed after. If your dad wakes up before you go up tell him I’m walking Ginger before the social worker gets here

Onyx follows their mothers’ instructions and eventually Bob learns Eliza is out when he and Strawberry pass her and Ginger like ships in the night. Bob assures her he’ll be back home in time for their special delivery.

Here she is! Miss Tiana Pancakes, newest member of the stack. First up on the agenda once she’s dropped off is a feeding to stop her getting hungry. Then while Bob goes to set up the kitchen for the new addition Eliza plays with her daughter who may be intense but is no less adorable for it.

Eliza: You are so precious my little Tiana. Me and your daddy are going to love you forever and ever, I promise. Your older siblings will love you to, and we have two cute dogs, I’m sure you’ll like them. They’re fluffy

Tiana smiles as Eliza lifts her up for a kiss. Eliza then takes her to the playmat in the lounge for Bob to spend some time with her.

Bob: Hey there, oh you are cute as a button aren’t you? Can we have some tummy time with daddy, huh?

Very carefully he turns the infant on to her tummy and works on trying to get her to lift her head.

Bob: Come on honey, lift that head

Tiana: *cries* (but my head is heavy)

Bob: Oh dear. Eliza! What do I do

Tiana: *cries* (I don’t like this, put me back on my back)

Eliza: Just keep trying Bob, she’ll learn eventually

Bob: But I feel like I’m torturing her when she cries

Tiana: *cries* (I hate this)

Eliza: It’s just because the others went straight to toddlers

Tiana: *cries* (why won’t he turn me over)

Bob: I don’t want to be the bad guy, can’t you do it

Eliza: *sighs* Okay I’ll try later, how about giving her a nap

Bob: Yes! Come here Tiana, Daddy’s got you, yes I do

Tiana: *sniffles*

Bob cradles Tiana and softly whispers while rocking her. It doesn’t take long for the infant to fall asleep, it’s been a big day for her to.

Eliza: There Bob, not so scary now is she

Bob: She’s perfect, our daughter

Strawberry: *yaps* New human! Pink bow! Oh we’re twins

Tiana: *panics and cries* (Loud noises! What the heck is that? Does it want to eat me)

Bob: Oh no, she’s awake

Eliza: Here, I’ll take her. Think you can handle being the bad guy with the dogs

Bob: *laughs* yes. Here Tiana, here���s your mother. You’ll be safe with mother, yes you will

Tiana: *grins* (It tickles)

In Eliza’s arms Tiana suddenly remembers the scary yapping dog and begins crying all over again.

Tiana: *cries* (I’ll be eaten, goodbye cruel world)

Eliza: *shushes* There there Tiana, its okay. Strawberry is a bit loud isn’t she, don’t worry she’s just saying hello because she likes you.  Do you see, she has matching bows

Tiana doesn’t understand any of this but Eliza’s voice begins to soothe her and she feels calmer.

Eliza: See now, isn’t it better when we’re not crying huh? We can find something to smile about, yes we can

Tiana beams up at Eliza happy again.

Eliza: Now I know you’ve had a very big day but can we try to practice lifting that beautiful head

Eliza rolls Tiana on to her tummy and begins encouraging her to try and lift herself up. A couple of times she comes close but before long the crying starts again.

Tiana: *cries* (I just want to be an infant forever)

Eliza: Oh honey, it’s okay, it’s okay

Gently Eliza rolls Tiana onto her back and makes some funny faces until the young one is smiling again.

Eliza prepares some formula and gives Tiana a feeding before bed. The little girl guzzles away happily until it gets to burping time. When Eliza pats her back Tiana sicks up some of the formula on her shirt.

Eliza: Uh oh, do we have a happy spitter

Tiana: *whimpers* (If I am why does my animation look sad)

Eliza: There there honey, are you ready for bed? Mother will get you to bed

Previous ... Next

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Winter Tales

Witch of the Shadows

Blake walked along the path with her familiar, a shadow cat named Fergus. In the City of Vale, there were rumours of a Demon Knight that would appear during the blizzard and slay any unsuspecting travellers. She couldn't stand monsters like that and she agreed to hunt it down in exchange for a weekend at the Library of Forbidden Tomes. There was a treasure kept inside that was far more valubale than any gold in Remnant. Blake shivered violently as she stumbled in the snow.

Fergus; Are you sure you can handle yourself in this weather, my lady?

Blake: O-Of c-c-course. I-I-I'm perfectly f-f-fine.

For several more minutes, the two of them kept trudging along and all the while, the snow became thicker. Blake started to feel her feet soak with each step and it was making her uncomfortable. Unfortunately, she didn't know any fire spells to warm herself up. Fergus shook his head, disappointed in his mistress' lack of forsight.

Fergus: Tsk tsk tsk.

Blake: S-Shut up. A-Anyway, are we in the r-right area yet?

Fergus: We need to go further left. According the citizens of Vale, the Demon Knight's stronghold should be right over here. *runs*

Blake: What the- Fergus, get back here!

Blake tried to run after her familiar, but the deep snow was restricting her movement. She was struggling to keep up and the snowfall was becoming heavy, obscuring her vision. Suddenly, she tripped over what felt like a loose branch and ended up falling down a steep hill.

Blake: Agh!! Ow! *rubbing her head* Damn it! *turns around* Huh?

Blake was flabbergasted. In front of her was a small, decrepit stone house and on the windows were torn flags of a forked Imp. This couldn't possibly be the home of a demon, could it? Blake tried her best to stand up and, grabbing her wand, carefully walked inside.

It wasn't what she had expected at all. The inside of the house looked like a common living room. There was a table, a few broken chairs and a bookshelf. Sitting on a dusty bench was a young man stroking away at Fergus, who trilled delightfully. He had blonde hair, deep sapphire eyes and wore torn white tunic. His most distinguished feature, however, were his horns. He was a demon. Blake shook her head. She couldn't just attack him. Fergus didn't appear to be in any danger and he didn't look like he was a knight either.

Blake: Um, hello?

Demon boy: Huh? Oh. Hello there, witch. I didn't hear you come in. Why is it that you've come here?

Blake: Um... well, I... *lowers wand* I was sent to investigate the reports of a Demon Knight who was attacking unsuspecting travellers. I-I hate to ask, but do you know anything about it?

Demon boy: *shakes head* No, I don't. I was exiled from the Demon Knights 3 months ago.

Blake: Oh... I'm sorry.

Demon boy: It's okay. To be honest, they were a bunch of dicks anyway. By the way, is this your cait familiar?

Blake: Yeah, his name's Fergus. *snaps fingers* Return to me.

Fergus disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

Blake: Anyway, I know you're not a member of the Demon Knights anymore. But did you at least hear anything about the attacks?

Demon boy; Hmmm, if it was attacks on humans, I think I might know one in particular. His name is Cardin and he's... well, infamous is putting it lightly.

Blake: Why exactly is he infamous?

Demon boy: Put it this way, even among demons, he's quite brutal. No one escapes an encounter with him intact. He truly is a monster.

Blake: I see. *grips wand* I hate to ask, but would you help me in finding him?

Demon boy: Well, my combat skills are a little rusty. *stands up* But if you need my help, then I will gladly lend you my services.

Blake: Thank you, Mr...?

Jaune: Jaune Arc. *smiles*

Blake didn't know why, but seeing him smile made her heart flutter a little.

Jaune: Now then, *stands up* why don't you sit down and I'll get some dinner ready.

Blake: O-Oh no no no no, I couldn't possibly-

Jaune: Don't be silly, you just came in from the cold. A hot meal will do you some good. The kitchen's not perfect, but I can whip up something real nice. Do you like tuna?

Blake: YES! I mean- uh, tuna is good.

Jaune: Two tuna steaks with asparagus and mashed potatoes coming right up. *goes into the kitchen*

Blake's stomach grumbled as she heard the sound of pots, pans and the sizzling of the fish. Drool dripped from her mouth as the buttery scent touched her nose. She smiled excitedly. Maybe she had finally found the one.

[gotham-ruaidh]

now i lay me down to sleep - a 7x05 and 7x06 story

I had thought it would be easy to sleep in the tent that night – after a few uncomfortable days on the road, preceded by my brief yet searing stint back at Ticonderoga worrying for my patients and for Jamie, not to mention the stress we’d both felt before the fort was abandoned as our well-reasoned advice fell on deaf ears.

I’d mastered the art of sleeping in a tent, with the low noises of men camped all around me, during the war. My war, to be precise – on the blood-soaked fields of France. Too quickly I’d had to put that habit to use in the months we’d spent camping with Charles Stuart, and then again not too long ago, in those terrible days of the fruitless skirmishes with the Regulators.

So I’d thought that the murmured campfire conversations, and occasional snorting of horses, and all other manner of noises would lull me to sleep this night.

Yet I lay awake. Too tired to sleep.

Mind racing.

Walter’s last breath.

Ian looking at Rachel, as she helped Denny and I bandage a man who had discharged his musket into his foot.

The shape of William’s nose and chin.

Brianna smiling.

I sat up in the bedroll, and swung out my legs from under the blankets.

Jamie’s hand found the small of my back.

Peace.

“When Bree was small and she couldn’t sleep, sometimes she’d get frustrated. So I told her to rest her eyes instead.”

“Hmm. Did that work?”

“Well, it soothed her. I convinced her that laying still with her eyes closed was more restful than not doing so.”

I heard him sit up behind me. Felt his arms wrap around my middle, and his head settle into the curve of my shoulder.

“And if she didnae like what she saw when she closed her eyes?”

I found his hands and squeezed. “I would ask her to think about something she did like.”

He smiled into my neck. “Well then. I just need to keep looking at you, Sassenach. Cannae think of a better way to fall asleep.”

I flushed with pleasure, and turned to kiss him. It was hard to see in the dark, and we fumbled a bit, laughing, and he tasted of happiness.

We broke apart at a whoop from somewhere not too far from the tent.

“Christ,” Jamie whispered. “I’ll need to have a word wi’ Morgan in the morning. Cannae have the men making such a stramash. It will just cause confusion that the Mohawk or others are attacking, and we dinna need that just now.”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy talking to you about it.”

He didn’t say anything, and let the moment stretch. Still we held each other’s hands, not fully awake, not willing yet to sleep.

“Do you see something you don’t like, when you close your eyes?”

It was always easy to talk in the dark – even with Jamie, who knew me better than anyone had or would.

“Ye ken weel about my nightmares. But before you ask more about it – no, they’re no’ back, or at least any more than they have always come and go.” His thumb traced my silver wedding ring. “I – only – hmm. I need to ask ye something, and as I turn it over in my mind it feels verra foolish to even say out loud.”

I smiled. “Surely you don’t think I’d laugh?”

“Ye have laughed, and ye will keep laughing at me, since the first day we wed, Sassenach. That’s no’ what I keep seeing.” He paused, and I knew there would be lines forming in his brow as he thought what to say.

I gave him as long as he needed.

“Do you think any less of me, Claire, that I couldnae save you myself?”

“What on earth?” My hand found his shoulder. “What’s this?”

I felt his eyes on me. “I came for you at Fort William wi’ nothing but an empty pistol. I found you after that time wi’ the crazy priest who married Fergus and Marsali. I found you in the forest after the Browns had taken you.”

“Yes,” I said patiently. “I remember.”

“So – at Ticonderoga I relied on Ian to find you. And when you were held prisoner by the governor, on that ship in Wilmington harbor – I relied on Tom Christie.”

“Yes.”

His words came all in a rush. “I couldnae save you those times, Claire. I had to ask other men to do it for me.”

My hand shifted to cup his cheek. “Because you were being pragmatic. You’re older than you were at Fort William. You have a lot more to lose.”

“If I lose you, Claire, I lose everything. Do you no’ ken that?”

“And if in so doing you lose yourself – where does that leave me? I’d rather have a dozen men help me get back to you, than you risking yourself to do it.”

He sighed. “I felt I betrayed my vow to you.”

“Nonsense. You kept it, by enlisting others to help me. Were they not happy to do it?”

“They were.”

“Then don’t tell me that’s beside the point. I’m here, with you, because you asked for help. That’s no small thing.”

A beat.

“And don’t you go doubting yourself. Not now. You need to have a steady mind. To shoot your rifle straight.”

He turned his head, and kissed my palm. “I’m daft.”

“You are. But you knew that already, and I knew that already.”

“And yet somehow, you still love me for it.”

“Despite it.”

I leaned in for a kiss. He drew us back down into the bedroll.

“Rest wi’ me, then, until the dawn. Maybe I’ll dream of the lass and her bairns.”

I settled closer against him. “I’ll dream of you and me, back on the Ridge, in a fine new house.”

He kissed my forehead.

[danjaley]

I won’t insult you by asking you #4. :D So please: 11, 14, 22 and 23?

Thanks for your consideration! It is what it says on the label, I guess... ;) In fact the tag "McCarric Scenes" was a successor to "Shire Impressions", a similar world-photoshoot series of little scenes.

11. Why have you decided to tell this story? are there any messages or meanings within it?

This varies quite a lot for the different parts of the story. For Season 1 it was because Ian McCarric had won a Bachelor Challenge and I wanted to do something with the custom-world that was the first price. For Season 2 it was because I had crash-landed all my other projects at the time and wanted to go back to something that worked. It was the moment my main blog switched from gameplay to storytelling. Also to tell Fergus' story of course. For Season 3-4 I already had Alasdair, so I just needed to weave my tale around him. But it was Matt who made Season 3 into more than a timeskip.

As for the general message: Finding love is not the happy ending of your life's novel. This applies to all parts from the very beginning.

14. Do you have any regrets about your story so far? if you could go back in time, how would you fix these?

On the whole, I'm rather happy with the story as it is. I already mentioned this, but my only serious regret lately was that I didn't stop to think about Ghost Catherine's outfit. I secretly changed it for Season 4. She can choose in which form she appears after all.

While there's nothing I would cut, I sometimes regret not elaborating scenes more. Typically this applied to Season 1 but still sometimes happens today. I kinda regret not showing more of Jonathan's and Nicolas' early days as a couple, and possibly more of Roseanne's perspective. Ysobel and Fiona are also doing a bit too well, pretending not to be a couple at all. But I don't know, I still think all this would have slowed down the story too much.

22. Choose a favourite character from your story so far

Matt, because I feel close to him, but also Fergus and Mayrose for being too good for this world. But I love every member of the family in their own way.

23. Choose your least favourite character so far

This is difficult. There are the Frasers and Stevensons, who only figure as the uninspired neighbours. I mean to work on this, but they are a bit one-dimensional. On the other hand, the world is full of people who haven't had a single original thought in their lives.

Of the immediate family, I guess André is currently making himself a nuisance.

[captain-mj]

I plead with you, on my hands and knees, for some Selkie!Soap x Human!Ghost where Ghost meets Soap's father-

Oh hell yeah! In this au, Ghost is a changeling, I hope its okay that I kept with that

Soap was frantic, going back and forth between pacing and rambling. It was only their second day of leave and his dad asked Soap to bring his new boyfriend.

Ghost didn't want to tell him to calm down since he had Soap's coat on so instead, he just stopped him with his hands.

"Johnny, it's going to be okay."

"You're about to meet my family!"

"I've been talking to your mom for weeks." Ghost reminded him gently. "You're going to be okay."

"My sisters will be there! Both of them!" Soap said softly. "What if they don't like you? What if you don't like them?"

Ghost laughed. "Usually that's my line." He moved closer and held his hands. "You like me and I like you. That's all that matters."

Soap nodded. "My dad is..."

"I know. I know." Ghost sighed. "We'll get through it. It's just two days and after this, we can go back to our cabin."

Soap leaned into his shoulder. "I don't understand why he wants to meet you."

Simon softened and squeezed him. "It's okay, love. Promise." They were rather close to each other.

"You called me love."

"It's a good nickname for you." Simon tried not to blush, aware that he didn't have his mask.

Soap leaned forward and kissed him softly. "Mo fhíorghrá." He pushed Simon's hair back and trailed his fingers through it.

"What does that mean?"

"A devious insult. You probably don't want to know."

"You're a fucking bastard. Go finish getting packed. I'm going to ask Price to extend our leave when we're done."

"Thank God. I want to spend more time here."

Ghost grinned. "With me?"

"Nah. Wish you'd stay outside, you bawbag." Johnny teased back before pulling away to get dressed.

Ghost grabbed his things and waited for him.

The journey there was luckily quick and then they were on Soap's parents doorsteps.

Soap had managed to chew all of his fingers to the quick in anxiety.

The man that opened the door was... well, he looked almost exactly like Soap. His hair was longer though, cut in a more... traditionally male cut to Soap's mohawk. His eyes were green and he was clearly a bit older.

"Hello, sir." Ghost straightened up, glad he had his mask on. The man set him on edge and he couldn't decide if it was what Soap told him or just... the vibe around him.

Soap smiled. "Hey, dad!"

"Fergus MacTavish. So you're my sons..."

"Husband." Ghost saw his eyes go to the coat.

"I see. Come in. Your mom is in the kitchen, Johnny." Fergus made a dismissive motion and Ghost watched him shrink down just a bit before slinking off to the kitchen.

Ghost sat across from Fergus and immediately noticed someone walking right behind him.

Davina, Ghost could tell because her hair was dyed a bright purple, smiled at him. "Are you Ghost? Johnny's talked about about you before!" She was the other selkie.

"Oh? He's talked about me?" He could feel Fergus staring at him.

"Yep. Said you're a giant hardass who works him too hard." She smiled and winked. Ghost huffed.

"He's right. I'm his Lieutenant. Someone has to keep him in line."

Davina laughed. "Cup of coffee?"

"I'd kill for a tea."

Davina laughed harder. "Wow, you actually are that british. I'll see what I can rustle up. Mom keeps some usually." She left him in the room with Fergus again.

The man was still staring at him.

Simon thought about when he came home from the army for the first time. The way his mom's sleeve had lifted up just a little and he had seen his dad's handprints on her. He had dragged him outside and beat him in the street like he was a dog.

This man hadn't done anything in his sight, but already, he felt the same anger he had felt that day bubbling up. His mom had tried to pressure him into seeing his dad in his final days and he hadn't because he was sure he would take him out of the bed and finish the job. The anger was something he knew well. He dealt with it occasionally on missions.

"So Simon." Ghost grit his teeth. "How long have you had his coat?"

"A week now. Not too long. Still getting... used to it." Ghost measured his words carefully.

"I see. Treating my son well?" Fergus tilted his head, looking genuine enough. "Selkies are a bit fragile. Emotionally. I'm sure you've noticed how sad they can get."

No. Ghost hadn't. "In their eyes right? Always so sad."

"Exactly. It's best to keep them busy. So when can I be expecting him to leave the military?"

"What?"

"You're not going to let him reenlist are you? Shouldn't you keep him at home?"

Ghost stared for a minute, more than a little taken back. He was expecting cruelty like he experienced as a child. Beatings or being told you were useless. Not this. It caught him off guard.

"I want to keep him in the military. Keep him close to me."

"Makes sense. Easy access huh?" His tone was light. Normal. Like they were talking about the weather.

"I like spending time with him." Ghost answered honestly.

"If you tell him to shut up, they can't speak until you give them permission to. Comes in handy. Especially with my kids." He laughed and had sorta leaned in. Trading secrets. "You really can make them do whatever you want. As long as they can physically do it, they will. They have these instincts too. This drive to be the best for their person. Best partner. Best friend. Anything they can. Eventually, you barely have to order them."

Ghost felt bile in the back of his throat. "That simple huh?"

"Yep. Snap your fingers and he'll jump." He snapped his fingers. "Just make sure they stay busy. Can't let them find the coats, ya know?"

Ghost held Soap's coat a little closer around himself. "Right..."

Davina came back with a cup of tea for him and cup of coffee for her dad. She perched on the window seat, right behind Fergus. She glared into Ghost, her calm demeanor disappearing.

Slowly, she mouthed at him. "Watch yourself."

Oh thank god. She was cool.

He didn't pay much attention anymore, just staring blankly ahead as Davina and Fergus talked. Already, he was starting to regret this.

Soap sat next to him, almost but not quite touching him which he was thankful for. Ghost picked up that Fergus didn't talk to him with the others around. He tried not to think too much about that.

Soap's mom was lovely. She smiled at him and commented that it was nice to have someone else that doesn't drink coffee.

"I hope vanilla is okay? I don't really keep Earl Gray in stock..." She was a tiny lady, but her hair was incredibly dark for her age. It curled around her and was clearly something she took care of.

Ghost quickly shook his head. "No, vanilla is fine."

"It's his favorite but he won't admit that." Soap laughed and Ghost instinctively pulled him just a little closer. Fergus gave him a sharp look but Ghost interrupted before anyone got the chance to say anything.

"Maybe." Ghost smiled.

"Oh! Do you want to see some baby photos?" Moray, Soap's mom, said excitedly. "I never get to show his partners these!" She grabbed a book and his sister quickly crowded on Ghost's other's side. He tried not to fidget too much at all the contact.

"Mom..." Soap whined but he let her.

Moray put the book on the table. "A little hard to explain that he was born with white hair." She showed him the baby photo of tiny Soap. His eyes were almost black, like an actual seals and his hair was a pure white color like snow. As the photos changed to his toddler years, he looked perfectly human but they were now intermingled with pictures of a tiny seal pup.

''You were so small." Ghost hummed. "So you guys actually turn completely into a seal?"

"Completely." Soap smiled. "It's pretty fun. I'd have to have my coat back though."

"Never going to happen then." Ghost replied like he was told. He saw Moray flinch but one glance between them and she immediately relaxed.

As hard as he tried, Ghost couldn't imagine being this vulnerable and also this trusting. He could be puppeting Soap to act like this around his family and none of them would know.

What a disconcerting thought. He glanced at Soap.

Ghost hadn't noticed it earlier, but around his family, he could see it. This faint sadness. It was more prominent in their mom. Davina had it, though only when looking at her family.

He couldn't handle this. He needed air.

"Excuse me." Ghost pulled away and went outside, hugging the coat closer. He couldn't feel the cold, but he knew outing himself as not human wouldn't be smart. The snow piled up but he just stepped out.

Fucking hell.

He missed his mom.

Ghost jerked up, straightening his posture. Where the fuck did that come from?

He thought about her. She'd love Soap. Of course, she would though.

Mary Riley was a good woman.

What would she do?

She'd help. Somehow.

Ghost should help too.

Simon let out a breath. "Alright. I'm going to find this woman's coat if it fucking kills me."

[confusedkittensposts]

Adventures of Meowley (part 1)

POV Juliet

Juliet lept from roof to roof, keeping an eye on the old miner’s ghost that had caught her fancy. She let him think he could evade her, the hound was fond of playing with her food.

She doesn’t hunt ghosts often, you can’t make a mess of them like you can of humans with flesh and blood and bones…mmm yum

But ghosts can make a small snack, the secret is, the older the ghost, the better they taste. And this one was almost a century old

Still, she wasn’t here to chase ghosts. With a graceful dive, she landed on the pavement, the ghost between her teeth. Juliet took a minute to access the old miner’s taste, it was better than she had expected.

Maybe she could look for some more, the historic town was full of them and barely had street animals she usually entertained herself with.

A sharp, inhuman whistle pierced through the air, reminding the hellhound she wasn’t alone. her paws clacked on the cobbled streets, as she hurried towards Papa.

It was a ritual between them, going on walks around the globe. Papa has taken her to many wonderful places, he lets her explore them, meet new animals and even hunt if she wants; sometimes he lets her take him to new towns and cities she found on hunts. Sometimes they are joined by other hounds

Papa is always quiet on the walks, and they don’t talk unless Juliet has a question or Papa wants to discuss something with her.

Papa smiled as she joined him, pressing herself on his side, while he stroked her dark fur. “Enjoy your snack, darling?”

“Hmmm”, the hound melted as Crowley's hands reached her neck.

“We have a small stop to make, then we can leave.” huh, that would explain why they were in a quaint old american town. She nodded, nuzzling his hand before stepping back.

Juliet followed the king of Hell to a shabby, gray building that looked out of place among the closely packed colourful buildings in the town

She could feel powerful wards around the place, which meant they were likely meeting a collector

The king placed a hand on her side and took them inside, on the fifth floor, If her guess was correct.

The corridor was dark, and it smelled like dust, rot and magic. Every inch of the pine colored door in front of them was covered in wardings.

Juliet made a face, shaking off the feeling of something being wrong. But she wasn't the only one who felt that, Papa carefully ran his hand over the door frame, assessing it.

The door opened with a getal push, smell of too sweet lavender and days old storm laced with power wafted out, making Juliet bare her fangs.

The scent was soon followed by its owner. Rowena is wearing a navy gown that hugs her body, her flaming red hair tied in a messy tie.

“Well, hello Fergus”

Juliet growled, it seemed to amuse the witch.

Beside her, Papa sighed, “Mother”

“I have to say, I didn't expect to see you here. Come to pay your dear mother a visit?”

“You know I haven't. You didn't know I would be here, did you?”

“Of course not, I would have prepared tea.”

Rowena started to move back towards the room she had emerged from, “But now that you are here, I believe there is something you want.”

Juliet followed her behind Papa, “I do, but that’s hardly your concern.”

The hound cast a cursory look around the library they had entered. Shelves full of old tombs, glass bottles and scrolls. The impressive dark wood table against the wall opposite to the door was overflowing with knick knacks. Rowena walked around it, dropping in the chair behind it.

“No need to be rude, is there? why don’t I give you whatever you want and you can leave the rest for me to sort out.”

“Or you could leave before my hound here has her lunch”

Juliet grinned showing off her sharp fangs, oh how she would love to sink them into the witch.

Rowena’s face fell, an almost sad look taking over her magically maintained face, “We don’t always have to be enemies, you know.”

Papa ran a hand along Juliet’s side, before walking towards his mother, “I assure you, mother. We aren't enemies. I just would like to kill you.”

“Besides,” Papa continued, tracing a finger on carvings of a wooden box laying on the table, “Dear old Elijah had some interesting knowledge, I can’t leave with you.”

The hound saw the dagger rowena pulled from under the table, just as Papa did. He reached for the witch’s hand and Juliet took a step back ready to pounce as soon as Papa pushed her back. But before he could do that, Rowena smashed her hand against his chest.

Juliet watched as Papa was engulfed in purple light. A small storm took over the room, papers flew and bottles crashed, powerful magic pressed against her, making it impossible to move.

By the time everything calmed and Juliet could move again, Rowena had long made her exit.

The hound looked around, “Papa?”

Faint rustling answered her.

Juliet blinked, carefully moving around the table, where the noise had come from.

There half hidden beneath torn parchments was a fairly large black Cat, but she could see Papa’s demonic form crammed in the little body.

“Meow”

[forgetmenotsassenach17]

Drabble Drabble

Forever not good at posting my recent drabbles here, so today here is around up of my last four Fergus POV drabbles that I have shared on Twitter over the last few weeks.

2x04 Experience Milady was running late, and Fergus was getting anxious. He and Murtagh waited outside of L'Hôpital for hours, the bright afternoon sun having long given way to a moonless night. Milord had given him the tremendous responsibility of ensuring Milady made it home safely, in time for the party, and Fergus desperately wanted to prove himself worthy of the task. His time with them feels tenuous, like at any moment, he will be sent back to the too small closet at Maison Elise. But he cannot return there, having now experienced the thing for which he longs for the most. 

2x05 Comfort After the chaos of the night and Milord being arrested, an eerie calm had fallen over the house. Milady paced the room, stress and anger lining her face, neither of which were safe the bébé, according to Milord. Knowing it was now his responsibility to protect her, Fergus gently took her hand and guided her to the sofa.  “Sit, Milady. Think of the bébé,” he said. She gave him a small, tired smile as she sat down.  Fergus sat besides her, and placed his hand on top of hers, hoping it provided her as much comfort as it provided him.

Hope 2x06 They arrived home in the early hours of the morning, tired but excited that they successfully spiked the Comte’s wine. Fergus followed Milord upstairs, both of them quiet so as not to disturb Milady. It was still strange to call this place home. To have a bed of his own. To have people that depended on him and found joy in his presence. Milord bade him goodnight, leaving Fergus alone and suddenly overwhelmed by the life he never expected but could now never give up. He was meant to be theirs, and he could only hope they believed that too.

Broken  2x07 It is his fault. He let himself get wrapped up in the possibility of being a family. Milord, Milady, the bébé…and him. For a moment, it seemed as though his dream, once foolishly outlandish, was on the cusp of becoming real. He let himself believe and now, incomprehensible devastation has left him unable to dream of anything but the agony he rendered upon them. As the carriage arrives at L'Hôpital, he clutches the flowers tighter in his hands, unsure if Milady will want to see him. But maybe just a glimpse of her will remind him not all is lost.  Maybe they can be broken together. Without hope but with each other.

And a reminder you can find the first chapter of my new fic, Time Comes in Roses on AO3! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56191129/chapters/142745668)

Happy reading!

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Had to do some preliminary sketches of Carrion to get a feel for his design! I took some notes from the narration and tried to get that good slimy vibe that's in the official art.

These were the first three attempts. Carrion is a pretty simple character design-wise, so it didn't take a lot to get him somewhere I liked. By take 2 I was happy, but I still wanted to try some other options.

I tried to push some of the fish-like features, but not so hard that you lose the uncanny effect. It's actually a really difficult balance to keep, that was probably my biggest struggle with this guy. I also took some inspiration from the citizens of Innsmouth, which the description reminded me of. Bulbous eyes a little too far apart, tight skin, oily hair with a really far back hairline. Unrelated but that first sketch of the three is when I decided I was basically gonna give him a Morticia Addams wardrobe. It ended up being a lot more ethereal and spectral in the end, kind of sliding and swirling around as it pleases whenever he moves. I might play around with those Morticia style glove/sleeve things though, that could be really fun.

And I have a couple Fergus sketches as well! Mostly just working out just how bird-like his face would be. And also how much I would subconsciously make him look like Ebeneezer Scrooge. I also don't know why, but I always picture him with a walking stick/cane. I think it's because I like giving him something to wave around at Carrion. Gives him that "get off my lawn" old man vibe

They note that his clothes are like 30 years out of date, so I referenced an outfit from 1795 here. It was literally the first completed outfit from a museum that I found. He looks... Much shabbier in the final piece lol. He's doing his best.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Some behind the scenes thoughts about the narrative structure and names in my story, Shattered:

To use eventually in my story, Shattered, I drew Rory -- Lena's 7 year-old child alter, who speaks only in sign language. I made this decision partly due to my own experiences, but also because in the show Lena has a lot of neurodiverse traits.

Rory is a pretty common Irish name, and Katie has said in an interview that is her younger brother's name (it's also listed as her brother's name in every article I could find about her family). The traditional way of spelling would be with an 'i' instead of a 'y,' but based on the research I did, it seems Katie uses the 'y' spelling. It's the angelized form of the name Ruaidhrí, which means "red king" in Old Irish. Her other alters all have Irish names or descriptive terms (at least until the Alter reveals their name). I did this on purpose because I love Irish names, and I'm very much pro-Irish!Lena.

For example, Kieran, the protective alter and the one that revealed herself to Lena in journal entries so Lena wouldn't feel alone or scared, is Lena Luthor's canon middle name. This is an angelized form of Ciarán, which in turn is derived from the Irish Gaelic word for 'black.' In Irish legend, Ciar was a son of Fergus mac Róich and Medb; he became the ancestor of the tribe of the Ciarraige (after whom County Kerry is named). Seán is Katie's older brother's name, and that one is a variant of John. To go back further, John is derived from Old Hebrew words such as Chanan which means 'to be gracious, to have mercy, to show favor.' Whether this name is used in my fic is for readers to find out. ;) Some other names I may utilize:

Lorcán which derives from Old Irish word lorcc for fierce.

Líadan, which derives from Old Irish for 'grey.' (Legends tell of a poet who missed her lover Cuirithir so much she died of grief.)

Neasa or Níassa, which derives from Old Irish for 'uncertain' or 'not-gentle'. (Legend has it, she was the mother of Conchobhar, and she tricks her second husband into giving up his kingdom to her son to rule temporarily for a year. She then helped him rule so astutely that the people demanded he be their permanent ruler.)

I debated on using too many 'L' names mostly because Lena in my tale -- due to her trauma -- has chosen to pit herself opposite of the Luthor family. So choosing "L" names would play too much into going with them instead of against. Part of her development is building herself up so that her actions become less about being opposite, and more about doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do.

Naming alters can be helpful to identify who fronts, but also to build up trust and safety with them. Alters will often have a name for themselves, which should be honored if so.

I'll likely draw all the alters at some point. The one above is based off a photo of Katie sitting like this by a Christmas tree.

I wrote Lena with DID because of how she slips in and out of personas to fit specific situations and her goals in that situation.

She has tremendous trauma, tends to compartmentalize into boxes, and so her having dissociation of some sort seemed highly probable especially based on some of her behaviors in the show.

She shows her trauma right from the beginning with specific things she says that reveal just how wounded she is by her past and the Luthor family. I extrapolated from that.

This is a very personal fic that touches upon things I experience as well, and I wanted to write a fic that is a positive representation for DID. I poured my soul into this fic. After a lot of soul-searching, unleashed it onto AO3 because if it helped me to write it, maybe it'll help others to read it.

The fic as a whole is written in draft form, but I edit and rewrite sections so it all flows well before I post the chapter.

I play with the narrative a lot in this fic.

The narrative is made of three POVs: 1. Lena and her alters, 2. Kara (and her other selves), 3. Sam.

I weave each POV with the present day conflict and a "Tale" that is a look into their backstory and how that ripples forward into the present. I admit, I hyper-focus on details for not only immersion sake, but also to lay out clues. Sometimes I'll play with how I lay out a chapter to emphasize a theme.

For example, in chapter seven, take a look at the last two sentences of the POV, and note how words for that sentence will appear at the starting sentence of the following POV. I'm using a ghazal-like tactic common to Arabic poetry to weave threads of a tale; I did this because I wanted to juxtaposition Sam's experience with Reign with Lena and her alters.

So there's details like that hidden in this narrative. The poetic language I draw upon for some segments is endemic of how I portray mind-stuff in all my writings (see my excerpt of my original fiction here for an example). I like how poetic language gives a scene a more surreal feel, which can be helpful for digging into trauma in a less triggering way.

Anyway, the narrative structure I use for this tale is a bit of an experiment, I admit.

One might even say it's a superhero/trauma version of Chancer's Canterbury tales, if the storytellers were just three people on a journey of healing together.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the behind the scenes peek.

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 11

To ditch career day... or to not ditch career day...

CW: Distressed infant

Since Tiana cannot speak her thoughts will often be in brackets

While Eliza and Bob have taken infant leave from their jobs, there is no such option for the teens. Fergus and Onyx pop their heads into the nursery where Bob is still rocking a sleeping Tiana and kiss her goodbye for the day. Then school awaits!

It looks like the Pancakes may have missed the outfit memo for today, oops. While Onyx heads off to find some friends Fergus tries to hastily finish the homework he neglected to finish. Unfortunately his friends are not much help this morning.

Anya: I look fabulous, thank you watcher

Artemisia: Are you staring at my best bracelet friend

Darwin: What? No. I was looking for the bus

Artemisia: Looking for the bus while we’re at school, unlikely

Atlas: I don’t think he meant anything by it

Fergus: Hold up- what did you guys get for 13?

Artemisia: Look dude, just keep your eyes to yourself

Darwin: Sure, and you can keep your venom to yourself

Outside the main building Onyx and Paola have some time relaxing.

Onyx: Aim for the centre

Paola: Of course I’m aiming for the centre dummy

Zhafira: Onyx! Hey! Look who caught the bus again successfully!

Zhafira approaches the pair beaming happily.

Onyx: Congrats. Did you hear they’re shuffling classes today

Zhafira looks downcast while Onyx explains the younger and older students will be having combined classes for the morning. They'll be with some of their friends but not Zhafira who seems upset at having to get to know even more new people.

As this is happening Mrs Tinker and Mrs Hensley come over and try give Paola some tips for successful throwing. Unfortunately they have contrasting opinions and in the end the teens decide the safest option is just to pretend they’ve gotten bored and head inside.

Onyx takes a quick swim before class and still manages to get to the room before the teacher begins the lesson.

Mrs T: Today we will be buddying up. Older students please join a younger student and we will begin designing a business for this scenario

Onyx: Mrs T can’t I just buddy up with Amie since she’s beside me

Mrs T: Sorry Onyx but Mr A wants to foster whole school cooperation, that's why we're having staggered classes this morning

Carson: I wish William had been put in here

Darwin: Don’t worry, we’ll see him at lunch

Carson: And I wish some outfits didn’t make my glasses vanish, it's like I've been dressed by a computer

After class wraps up Fergus goes to talk with Artemisia.

Fergus: I’m excited to see what we’ll learn this afternoon

Artemisia: *sighs* Don’t be too excited, it’s career day

Fergus: You’re not punking me, we only just started high school. There is no career day

Artemisia: I’m serious. I’m also thinking of skipping out on it

Fergus: We can do that?

Artemisia: I reckon I can, question is do you have the guts to

Fergus: Of course I do. Onyx was still feeling ill this morning so we can use that excuse to head home

Artemisia: May the best person not be caught

Back home Eliza is carrying Tiana when the infant fusses to be put down.

Eliza: Okay then, down we go

Tiana: *coos* (I coo now mother) *coos louder*

Eliza: Was that a coo? Was that a coo? I think it was *claps*

Tiana smiles and sticks her fingers in her mouth. Mother is pleased, she must be doing well. Even though mother keeps saying the word go, Tiana is happy they haven't seemed to leave the house.

Eliza is busy feeding Tiana when Fergus walks through the room.

Eliza: Hold on! What are you doing home?

Fergus: Umm, Onyx’s head got bad again so we came home so they could get a nap

Fergus walks over to the suckling infant and holds her hand for a bit. Tiana doesn't seem to grip back yet but she's looking at him curiously.

Eliza: You came home so Onyx could nap? I don’t think so. Onyx is capable of napping by themselves

Fergus: Fine, it was career day! I don’t need to worry about that yet. I’ll do extra homework tonight I promise

Eliza burps Tiana who spits up down her back.

Eliza: Ugh. it's okay honey, we can clean that up

Fergus: Want me to grab a cloth

Eliza: Please. Now I do not want you skipping school again, but since you’re here you can walk Strawberry since you're keen to help Onyx

Fergus: But I want to- *sighs* yes mother

The house is left quiet for Onyx’s nap while Bob takes Ginger for a run and Fergus takes Strawberry for a walk.

Eliza: Come on my snuggly sleeper. You get comfy back there and you can nap while mother does her run

Tiana: *coos questioningly* (wait, no, not outside! I don't want to leave) *cries* (I want to stay with mother)

Eliza: It's okay Tiana, mother is right here with you. We're just going to check out the neighbourhood huh. You'll be okay

Eliza jogs off and keeps talking to Tiana. Eventually the regular bouncing of the back carrier and the softness of Eliza's voice lull Tiana to sleep. Eliza is delighted to hear a quiet snuffling snore at her back as she runs.

Later that day...

Fergus: Dad?

Bob: Yes

Fergus: Umm, Tiana is crying. Don’t you think you should go give her a nap rather than carry her on your back

Bob: But- she’s learning with me though

Eliza: Fergus is right Bob, she’s exhausted. Better giver her to me

Bob: But I want to spend time with her

Eliza: And so you can, when she’s awake. You know she had a hard night, she needs to catch up on sleep still

Bob: *sighs* fine. Here Tiana honey, go with your mother *whispers* I'll teach you how to cook later though

Eliza carries a grumpy over tired infant into the nursery and sits down with her in the rocking chair.

Eliza: There there Tiana, it’s okay, you just go to sleep

Tiana: *coos* (mother came back with me, I not left behind) *yawns*

Eliza: It's okay my sleepy girl, mother is right here and daddy is just down the hall. You can sleep, I'll keep you safe

Tiana does feel very tired and so she yawns and falls asleep in Eliza’s arms. It may not be winning a Nobel Prize but Eliza feels pretty proud of finding time in her schedule to snuggle with her daughter.

The teens decided to do their homework at their own desks tonight! Fergus was working away on some science as he has a class trip to the aquarium tomorrow. Onyx meanwhile did their best to study for their exams. After Onyx felt like they could confidently say they were no longer sick they went and did some cheer practice. Later in the evening Tiana woke up.

After a diaper change Eliza gets Tiana into a clean night onesie and goes in search of Bob.

Bob: Thank you for the suggestion. She’s given us so much joy already

Kayleigh: No problem at all I- oh is this her?

Eliza: *grinning* Kayleigh may I introduce our youngest? This is Tiana

Kayleigh: Oh she is precious

Bob: Come to daddy, did you have a nice nap

Eliza: She’s still quite tired, I think she’ll need a proper sleep after her bottle

Bob: We can do that

Kayleigh: I best get going, see you all later

Bob: Can you say bye bye to Kayleigh

Tiana: *coos and snuggles into shoulder* (daddy is here, mother found him for me)

Bob: *chuckles* okay, food time then

Bob is delighted to see Tiana has a healthy appetite. He prepares himself to be spat on but to his surprise only gas comes out. Snuggling Tiana close he carries her down the hall and places her in her crib. He softly tells her another tall tale and the exhausted infant falls asleep happy with the sounds of fellow sims.

Previous ... Next

[lestatslestits]

It’s still Monday (at least for me, which means I’m not late for TOTA Takeover Day 1, dedicated to Rosalie Garrity.

So enjoy a little ficlet, which is. So so sad. I’m sorry.

(And also totally not a projection of my own OCD symptoms)

The halls of St. Jude’s are quiet and it takes Rosalie a moment to understand why: Campbell Bain isn’t running through them like a bat-out-of-somewhere-she-can’t-say, because of some nebulous Bad Thing that might happen if she does (she doesn’t know what that thing might be, and she doesn’t want to know). Normally Campbell keeps the hospital lively, an excitable outlier among patients who are kept largely sedate by their medications. The days when he’s not gamboling his way through the ward usually indicate a slide into depression so black that it hurts to look at for too long. She’s got a soft spot for Campbell that she tries not to overthink because it always leads her back memories of Robbie, who she’ll never see look that grown (if you can call Campbell that: there’s still something of a puppy that has not grown into its extremities about him). She’s taken to sitting with him when he’s in a bad way, chattering about the goings-on elsewhere in the ward. It seems to comfort him, and it’s nearly a distraction from the knowledge that she’s fighting a one-woman war for cleanliness on the losing side. Not quite, but nearly.

She makes up her mind and makes her way to his room. Through the latticed pattern of the window in his door, she sees him lying in bed, curled in on himself. His face isn’t visible, he’s just the back of a loudly patterned tee-shirt and a tuft of hair. She raises a gloved hand to knock on the door.

“You don’t want to go in there.”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Fergus emerges as though from thin air, as he’s wont to do. He’s as stone-faced as usual, staring through dark bangs. Fergus is intimidating, but she’s never felt intimidated by him, a paradox that she can’t quite unravel. “And why ever not?” She demands. He nods his head towards the window and she peers inside just in time to see Campbell move from a state of total stillness into a coughing fit that rattles his whole frame.

So that’s why he’s not roaming the corridors. He’s ill.

“Oh Lord,” she says, taking an instinctive step away from the door. A wave of shame washes over her. By the time of Robbie’s death she had been so pathologically afraid of germs that the very act of stepping into the hospital—a hospital for proper sick people, not loonies—to visit him had been nearly impossible, an exercise in terror and a battle that she lost almost as often as she won. Many afternoons had been spent waiting in the car, sobbing, while her husband made the visits alone. She knows she’ll never get those lost moments back. The floodgate to her memories opens and she’s struck full force by them as she sees Campbell sick in bed.

“Just thought you would want to know,” Fergus tells her. Then he’s gone, as quickly as he appeared, and before she can thank him.

Rosalie stands outside the door, at war with herself. She wants nothing more than to be able to step into that room and sit on the edge of Campbell’s bed, rubbing the ache in his taut shoulders away when another round of coughs consumes him. It would be like penance for Robbie, a way of doing better for someone else than she had for him.

But she can’t. Once she thinks she’ll just crack open the door to ask after him, but she can’t even wrap her fingers around the handle, no matter how she tries.

In the end she stands there, frozen in place, for the better part of twenty minutes, until Stuart comes and asks her with a sneer if she isn’t afraid of the germs sneaking out through the crack under the door. Then she has to retreat to change her clothes and wipe down her shoes, a feeling of shame heavy in her chest.

Her brief guardian angel presence goes totally unnoticed by Campbell, who never uncurls himself from his protective posture, and never turns towards the door.

[asta-writes-stuff-moved]

Y/N and Campbell Bain go out for the night

a/n: this is my first fic!! constructive criticism is fine but pls be nice :]

wc: 856

c/w: alcohol (only mentioned), think that's it, lmk if not tho

“Hey, Campbell,” You whisper through the dark.

“What is it?” He replies, his voice full of sleep.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Aw shit, I’m sorry Y/N, I forgot. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Ok,”

You fiddle with your fingers as you hear him rustling about in his room. Your attention shifts as he pops his head around the doorframe. 

“You got anything you’ll need?”

“Yeah, in my bag,” You lift it up to show him. 

“Perfect,” He flashes that wide grin of his and steps out of his room, checking around for anyone watching before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the door that leads out of the ward. He fishes in his jacket pocket for a moment before he pulls out Fergus’ card and unlocks the door.

“After you m’lady!” 

“Why thank you, kind sir!” He laughs at your attempt at a posh accent and you step out of the ward. 

-

“So where exactly are we going?” You ask as the two of you walk across the quiet hospital grounds.

“A spot I know,” He grins at you, “you’ll find out soon enough won’t ye? Quit asking!” 

The two of you walk until you reach the back of a wide building. As you inspect the building you notice flashing lights through the cracks of an exit door. 

“Fergus told me I could just tell them we know him and they’d let us in. Think we’ve gotta go around front though.”

You grab his hand as he leads you around to the front of the building. It seems fairly inconspicuous aside from the strobe lights still flashing through the cracks of the doors. 

Campbell raps his knuckles on the door and the sound echoes sharply through the quiet. It takes a minute, but eventually a man opens the door. He’s tall and big and looks scary and you shuffle behind Campbell. Campbell doesn’t seem deterred by him in the slightest. 

“Hey there, I was told to tell you I know Fergus MacKinnon.” He smiles widely at the man.

The man looks at the two of you for a second before nodding his head and stepping aside, letting you in the door. As you walk by him Campbell gives him a big grin and you give him a polite nod. 

After you’ve gone in and had a chance to take in your surroundings you notice a few things. Firstly, everyone here seems older than you. There definitely isn’t anyone else as young as you and Campbell, probably because they serve alcohol, you think as you notice a bar on one end of the room. The second thing you notice is the blaring music. It’s not the old music you’re used to hearing on the station at St. Jude’s, it’s loud and fast, distracting you from Campbell trying to get your attention.

“Hey! Y/N! You in there?” He yells over the music, tapping your forehead.

“Yeah, sorry,” You shout back at him.

“What d’ya think? Cool place, huh?”

“Yeah, I like the music.”

“I thought you would!” He seems delighted that you like it. 

“Are we allowed to be here? I think they’re serving alcohol, you know.” 

“Oh, don’t worry so much Y/N, that’s not why we’re here.” He grabs your hand, surveying the place. You follow him to a small table far to one end of the room. As you sit down he grabs his chair and pulls it over right next to yours. 

You lean into him so you don’t have to shout as much, “This is cool and all but why are we here Campbell?”

He leans down so his mouth is right next to your ear, “Fergus told me about it and I thought you’d like it. I know how much you love the music we’ve got at St. Jude’s so I thought you’d have a good time coming and listening to some new music.” 

You can feel your face heat up as you turn to look at him. He’s smiling softly down at you and you smile back. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for ya, Y/N.” 

-

“That was really fun, thank you Campbell.” You tell him as you walk across the grounds back to St. Jude’s. 

“O’course Y/N. Just let me know if you ever wanna go again.” 

He takes your hand in his and pulls you with him as he breaks into a run. The two of you race through the grounds, taking the longest route back you know of. 

-

“Well, I guess this is where I drop ya off.” He whispers, you can hear a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic about it, your room is five steps away.” You roll your eyes at him. 

“Yeah, well I had fun tonight. I like spending time with you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes and throw your arm around his shoulders to pull him down and you plant a kiss on his cheek. He flashes that big, bright smile of his at you one last time and you return it before heading into your room and closing the door for the night.

[captain-mj]

I am here to beg for more selkie au. Its so cute and has my whole heart (i feel so bad for poor soaps mom)

Here ya go! this is probably the second to last to chapter btw

Ghost sat outside, smoking quietly. Every puff, he'd pass it to Soap who would pass it to Davina and then Rosy and then Iris and then they'd hand it back. It was a bit silly, treating a simple cig like a joint, but it was funny so he let it slide.

"Used to smoke cigs on my roof with Tommy. Good times." Simon told them, lighting another one to share.

"Tommy?"

"Little brother. I was the best man at his wedding." Good times.

Soap glanced at him. "And I haven't met him?"

Simon imagined his bright and sunny Soap meeting Tommy. Living Tommy. They'd get along like a house on fire. Then they'd set the actual house on fire. He smiled a little, forgetting about how his scars pulled when he did. For once, no one said anything. No one looked at him like he was sad or pathetic.

"How about the next time we're on leave I'll introduce you to him?" Simon looked at Johnny. "He's dead. But I got some tapes."

"Oh..." Johnny winced. "I'm sorry."

Simon shrugged. "It's been nice. Being around you guys. Reminds me of him."

Davina hummed. "Bet he was a cool guy."

"Fucking coolest. Cooler than me that's for sure." Simon smiled. "We were in a band in high school. He played drums. I played bass."

"Any good?"

"Fucking sucked." Simon shrugged. "Nostalgic though. Loved playing. Then I went to the military. Fucked up my hands."

"You're a sniper."

"Yeah. Don't have the muscle memory for guitar anymore. Just the gun." Simon mock aimed a gun. "S'okay. Like I said. Dog shit at it. Tommy was good, but he quit for his family."

Johnny must've realized that asking about his family might not be a great idea. So did everyone else.

Fergus came home. He saw them all on the stoop outside, glancing at all of them. "You all okay?"

"Just fine, sir." Ghost answered, pulling Soap's coat further around him. His arm was around Soap, making everything feel right. Good. "Moray is making dinner I believe."

Fergus nodded. "I see..." He must've noticed something was off. But he still went inside.

Soap closed his eyes and leaned into Ghost.

They all heard the sounds of Moray beating the shit out of him. It was rough.

"Good for her."

Davina grabbed the cigarette and took a deep, deep puff. "She deserves it."

Simon nodded and lit some more cigarettes for them to all share. They all just chilled for a bit longer as he struggled to get the upper hand over a woman who was, from he sounds of it, using a frying pan.

Moray came out eventually and Ghost quickly lit one for her. She took it and started smoking quickly, hands shaking. "That was... great."

"Have fun?" Simon smiled.

Moray nodded. "I can see why you beat your father."

"Jesus, Mom." Rosy gasped.

Simon laughed. "Nah, it's fair." He checked his phone and showed Soap that they had been approved for a longer leave. They shared a look and both smiled.

"Alright, ma." Soap smiled at him. "You going to be okay?" He crouched in front of her and kissed her cheek.

Moray nodded and took a puff. "Course I will. Might disappear for a while. I... I want to come back though. See you three."

Simon didn't miss how Soap got teary eyed over it. He remembered Soap saying she'd abandon them without a second thought.

Soap must've decided he'd cry later when he was alone. Because he just nodded. "I will see you soon, Ma." He stood up.

"Alright, boys." Moray hugged him and gave him a quick squeeze. Then she hugged Simon. Soap winced and mouthed sorry to him.

Simon tensed at first before hugged back, trying to remember how his Mom would hug him after Dad had one of his episodes. She relaxed immediately.

"He's very good at hugs. And handsome. I can see why you picked him."

Simon very suddenly and aggressively realized he was not wearing anything. "Ah..." He noticed her look at the pointed ears and the odd freckles.

"Ma!!"

"Too bad he's British or he'd be perfect."

"Ma!! We have to go back to base now." Soap grabbed Ghost hard to go get packed.

[stuffeddrawer]

Love is Stored in the Magic Ring

Rating: Mature TW: Character Death, alcohol Fandom: Dragon Age Word Count: 1844 AN: I swear I was in a daze and a fever at the same time writing this, but it felt so good to get this angst out of my system

MDNI

⁽ᵖᵒˢᵗ ᵈᶦᵛᶦᵈᵉʳ ⁻ ᵃˢᵐᵒᵈᵉᵘˢ⁻ᵖˢᵈ⁾

Gaius knew when he was only twenty-one years old that he was going to die young.

Gaius knew the first Calling was false, but it didn’t stop his panic any. He was angry that they’d all been fooled, angry that the Wardens were led to believe that their death was just around the corner. He believed himself to be safe when Corypheus died. He grew fat and complacent, aiding new Grey Wardens, training them, teaching them as best as he could.

He didn’t say at Amaranthine. He didn’t go back to Weisshaupt like he was called to do so. Because he’d ended the Blight, with just two Wardens, and no deaths, he requested he remained in Southern Thedas, at Adamant, ensuring history didn’t repeat itself. He was aware of the internal conflict going on with the Wardens in the Anderfels, but he’d already done his service – he’d already saved the world - twice. He didn’t dare get involved in a third war. Gaius felt he was too old for another one.

He still remembered all Morrigan told him, still felt her touch, still felt her gaze on his. Even though she was gone from here, that she’d disappeared again with his son, Gaius knew she was still keeping tabs on him. The magic the ring she’d given him years ago (it feels like a lifetime ago, now) was still potent and active, still told Morrigan where he was, and he didn’t dare take it off.

It was a comfort, something he twisted between his fingers when the Calling started again. He focused on it, on the magic inside, on Morrigan’s magic. He took it off the necklace, wearing it properly like he had so long ago.

Morrigan’s ring was a balm, something he rubbed between his fingers when the Calling was screaming in his mind, when all he could think about was that damn song, when he felt like tearing his ears off just wasn’t enough. He felt ghoulish on a good day, and downright monstrous on a bad one. Every joint ached and hurt, but the Calling – oh, the Calling. It was like a thousand voices whispering in his ears, telling him to go left, right, jump, turn around, swing, dodge, roll, go left, over and over again. He felt like he was going mad – did Duncan feel like this, right before the end?

He took quill to paper, one last time, writing two letters, one to Morrigan, wherever she was, if she found his corpse or if he saw her on his way to the Deep Roads, and the other to Fergus, explaining his demise. He thought of Shale and Wynne, wondering if he’d see them again, wondering if he’d be able to have a final conversation with Wynne or if he’d be able to gift Shale another pet rock. He sighed happily at the thought of Zevran and Leliana and Oghren, the times they shared so long ago, the times he and Zevran had gotten drunk enough after the Blight had ended that they were still drunk the next morning, the times Leliana had him laughing so hard he fell and couldn’t stop snorting, the times Gaius walked away with more bruises than before when he trained against Oghren. Finally, he remembered every single fond time and moment with Alistair and Morrigan, cherishing each and every single word, every single stolen glance and kiss with Morrigan, every single breathless sigh. He cherished every single deep conversation he and Alistair had, remembering how they helped each other heal from the trauma they were forced to endure. He missed them all. He knew Alistair had perished during his time with the Inquisition, knew Wynne had died well before, and likely Shale with her. Leliana was the Divine, and in his opinion, doing a damn good job at doing it, Ohgren was on borrowed time like himself.

Gaius decided to write a letter to Zevran, knowing exactly where the old crow was, and explained that by the time he’d gotten his letter, Gaius had died, but he didn’t go without fond memories. Gaius and Zevran were closer than two peas in a pod during the Blight, the both of them looking at each other after it all and realising that they’d made it, that they actually lived.

The letters to Fergus and Zevran were sent, and the one to Morrigan was on his chest, next to his ring. The letter was still on his chest, even as darkspawn ravaged his corpse, taking the shiny things, even the ring she’d given him years ago, its magic as potent as ever and letting her know that not only had Gaius died, but that someone had stolen the ring from his corpse.

Morrigan was in the Deep Roads not long after, anguish tearing at her heart in a way she didn’t understand. She knew people died, they all died, everyone died, in the end. Even her own mother. Not a single one did she shed a tear, but for Gaius? She would have torn the world asunder for him, if she had the power. Instead, she’d give him the sendoff a hero like him deserved.

Morrigan, Hi, lovie. I’m sorry you had to find me this way. I would have tried to find you earlier, but you’re damn near impossible to find if you want to remain hidden. That or I’m blind in my old age. The Calling – the real Calling – it’s terrifying. I felt like I went mad, hearing voices that were both there and not. Call me a fool like you always did, but that ring you gave me ages ago was the only thing keeping me sane. Or held on to whatever was left – never really was sane after all the shit we’ve been through. I know we fought a lot, over tiny things, over Kieran, over letting you go. But I hope you know that I never once stopped loving you. My heart had always belonged to you. I would have given everything up to see you again, to remind you just how much I love you and Kieran. I wish I made a different choice, to follow you into that eluvian ages ago, rather than follow my stupid sense of duty. I wish I helped you raise Kieran, helped you remain safe and hidden. I wish I did a lot of things differently, but… It's weird to say that I’m… I’m happy with the way things have turned out. In the end, I gave my heart to you and that, my love, my heart, my everything, is the one thing I never once regretted. I love you more than there are stars in the sky. Gaius.

Morrigan raged when she saw that a darkspawn stole the ring from his corpse, that another was using the sword he always used. Its glow was dim and the power faded, but it was still sharp as the day it was forged. The ring was covered in darkspawn spume, guts, and gore, but it was back on Gaius’ finger, his sword back in his hand.

Morrigan hated how her vision was so cloudy and blurry with tears, hated how it felt like such a large piece of her was missing. Seeing his lifeless body, glazed eyes and hollow cheeks was a shock. His hands were stiff and cold, not nimble and warm like they used to be. Oh, she’d give anything to have him back.

She brought his corpse back to the surface, not giving a damn about the old and ruined Grey Warden armour littering the place. She knew this was where most of the Grey Wardens died when they heard the Calling. She knew this was where Gaius was going to go.

Morrigan knew the perfect place to bring him, to let this dog-scented country know that its saviour was dead, and died protecting it. She wouldn’t let his body rot with the others down there, damn tradition. This man was her heart, and she wouldn’t let him rot.

The pyre was grand, bright, brighter than the lighthouses at Castle Cousland. As the fire burned brighter, more and more lights in the castle lit up, curious as to why a lone fire was so big and bright, wondering why tonight, of all nights, there was something so big. No one was attacking, no one was fighting, yet Teyrn Fergus Cousland wept as he clutched the letter Gaius sent him.

His cries were soft, but heart wrenching. He should have died before Gaius – if he’d have just fought harder, in the Korcari Wilds, if he’d have just done something different, listened to Gaius when he said that leaving seemed like a bad idea.

All Fergus could do was cry as he watched the pyre from afar, knowing that his baby brother had died.

Time had passed, and the funeral pyre had long since gone out, the timber ash, but Zevran made his return to Ferelden, his hair white with age, body aching and sore and tired from years and years of running and fighting, but he was far too stubborn to stop.

When he’d received Gaius’ letter back then, he broke into tears. The friends he’d made, the family he found for himself – most of them had died, if not all of them. Zevran felt as though he, Leliana, and Morrigan were the only ones left alive, at least until he saw Morrigan’s telltale jewellery on her body, leaning against the same pyre, letting herself go the moment she’d laid Gaius to rest. The world was cruel, taking bright lights like Alistair and Gaius and Morrigan from him, the Maker was cruel for making them His punching bag.

He stood in front of the old funeral pyre, wondering if this was where Gaius had been given a proper sendoff, when his thoughts were silenced the moment he saw the ring Gaius always wore – the same ring Morrigan gave him forever ago.

Like an actual crow, Zevran was drawn to shiny things, but this shiny thing, this one particular shiny thing, Zevran refused to take. This was Gaius’.

“I’m sorry it’s been such a long time, old friend.” Zevran spoke, his voice raspy and shaky, but still Zevran. He saw the bare edges of Gaius’ sword in the rubble, its glow gone and edges dull, power vacant, but it was still a gorgeous sword. He took it from the rubble, thrusting it into the soft earth at the base of the pyre and next to Morrigan. Fereldans would know that this was where their hero was laid to rest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see you off.”

He sighed, leaning against the old, burnt wood, letting his aching limbs rest for a moment or two, sitting on the other side of the sword.

“But I am glad I was part of the journey that brought you this freedom.” Zevran whispered, closing his eyes and relaxing, finally relaxing, letting his worries and stress and anger slip away.

“Rest easy, Gaius Cousland, hero of Ferelden.”