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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

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Living a Life (1/2)

Summary: Sometimes the things we see ourselves in most clearly aren’t made from glass, and sometimes death is not the ending we think it is, but a pause of breath that gives life to a new beginning.

Rating: T for now

AO3 - FF

Chapter 1

Emma didn't really know why she did it, why she stopped at all.

The sidewalks were an icy mess, like the city didn't even care that they were staring a lawsuit in the face, and the clean, shoveled pathway through the cemetery was just too tempting to pass up. She was exhausted after a day spent at the precinct with her latest collar – some sort of mix up with the payment, or the filing, or whatever nonsense it was this time – and she just wanted to get home.

She didn't like the thought of using the cemetery as a shortcut, but the thought of being out of work for two weeks while she recovered from a sprained ankle was even worse.

Maybe it was because she walked past so many other gravestones that had been recently dusted of snow, the past few days of New England weather not accumulating on top of them, brushed away by the hands of loved ones. Maybe it was because she saw the wreaths leftover from Christmas dotting the quiet cemetery, bright orbs of red peeking through snow sprinkled like icing sugar across them.

But she stopped in front of a gravestone that seemed lonelier than the rest, slightly removed from the path and resting beneath one of the many bare trees, days of hardened snow and ice frozen to its surface.

Looking at it – neglected, ignored – she wondered if that's what her grave would look like when she died.

She should probably get cremated.

She should probably just leave. She had no business here, staring at some stranger's grave like the person lying below it cared about anything – cared that no one had stopped to sweep off the snow, but she didn't.

Instead, she stepped off the clean, salted path and crunched through layers of icy snow, deeper than she had thought. She could feel it crumbling over the tops of her low boots, icy pebbles melting and trickling down her heel. Well, she was stuck for it now.

She crouched down in front of the gravestone, and raising one gloved hand, she began brushing the frozen chunks of snow from its shoulders. Removing the dusting of windblown ice from the engraved front proved to be more work than she had anticipated, but after a few minutes she had most of it cleared, the rest would just have to melt on its own. Her hard work rewarded, she finally took the time to read the face of the stone.

She hadn't been to any funerals in her life, but she knew enough that the brevity of what she saw surprised her.

Liam Jones, 1977 – 2011

Her breath left her body, a chill wind stirring her hair and leaving her feeling somehow exposed, like she was doing something she shouldn't be - peering through the window of someone’s life only to find it was an empty house, abandoned. She had expected an old gravestone, someone with no family left to come sit by them and wipe away the snow.

She hadn't been expecting this.

He was young, not much older than her, and since it was only February, it hadn't even been that long since he'd passed. She glanced at the frozen ground she was squatting above and moved hastily to the side, wondering if there was some kind of graveyard etiquette. There must be. Don't stand in front of the graves where people are...resting, she guessed. She wasn't really sure. She'd never had a family, a grave to visit.

She probably should be thankful for that, less heartache.

Snow removed, job done, she stuck her hand back in her pocket and headed down the path. She wouldn't be back again. He wasn't her family, whoever she was, and she wanted to leave the nagging fear that one day that might be her in the cemetery where it belonged.

Weeks passed and she told herself when she headed down the cemetery path again that it was because another big storm had just blown through Boston, and for some reason known only to the city, they never cleared or salted the sidewalks in this neighborhood.

But she didn't try to stop herself when she reached his grave again, this time the name Liam Jones clearly visible, a thick blanket of fresh snow cushioning the top. She walked between the first row of graves and to the side of his, taking care not to step where she assumes he's buried. It seemed like the right way to go about it, even if there aren't any rules. She probably should've googled it, but she hadn't planned on coming back.

She really hadn't.

Instead of questioning it too much, she brushed the snow away with her sleeve and tossed a few stray, fallen twigs back to the ground. It wasn't until after she'd thrown them that she thought to make sure she hadn't dropped them onto another resting place – littering on dead people was most definitely poor graveyard etiquette.

When she stopped in spring, she told herself it was just to enjoy the blossoms on the cherry trees that blanket that portion of the cemetery, knowing it was a lie. She knew because she'd bothered to look up cemetery etiquette online, and yes, it was a thing. She was also mildly curious to see if anyone had been to visit him now that the weather was nicer, if she would even be able to tell.

There were a few graves she'd passed that had small flowers gracing their shoulders, and others with ornate vases built into the stone, colorful blooms filling them. She brushed a scattering of cherry blossoms from the top of Liam's grave and wondered again at the emptiness of it. He must not have had anyone, because if he had, surely they would have written something other than just the year of his birth and death.

Was he a father, a brother? Was he a son? Was he alone, as she was?

“Who were you?” she asked, but no one answered.

The next time she passed through, the cherry trees had long since lost their blooms, and she swept the sickly sweet smelling remains of them from his grave, bending down to tug out the stray clumps of tall grass where the granite sat, immovable. It seemed pretty obvious no one else was visiting, and that not even the groundskeeper had enough hours in the day to really keep everything neat.

They'd had enough dry days that she didn't have to crouch to visit, and found herself sitting back onto the grass between his gravestone and the next.

“Is this...weird?” she asked, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to her talk to a dead person she didn't even know. “I'm sorry no one comes here but me.”

Suddenly she felt self-conscious, the whole situation settling heavily around her, the overpowering perfume of dying flowers clinging to her skin. What the hell was wrong with her that the only connection she'd allow herself was with some stranger's gravestone? Angry with herself, she jumped up and hurried back down the path towards home. She was out of the cemetery and an entire block away when she finally remembered the daisies in her bag. Reaching in, she brushed the crumpled edges of the petals and sighed.

There was another visitor a few graves down when she returned, but they clearly knew enough to not eyeball her or say anything when she walked back over to Liam's grave – mildly flustered – and gently placed the rumpled cluster of flowers on the ledge in front of his name. She brushed her hands roughly on her leather sleeves and left as quickly as she came.

The next time it was a lot easier to talk to him, even if she knew he wasn't listening, and he certainly couldn't talk back. The daisies hadn't lasted very long, so she tossed them and said she'd bring more next time, although she realized she may need to leave something other than flowers. Work had been slow lately, and she wasn't stopping at the precinct all that often to drop off skips – and she couldn't just make a special trip once a week to refresh his flowers.

That would be crazy.

She didn't even know him.

So when her fingers ran across the smooth ridges of the seashell on her windowsill at home, she put it in her pocket.

Spring faded into the suffocating heat of summer, the grass parched and brittle beneath her feet as she crouched next to Liam's grave, brushing away the small ant hills that had formed in the sandy soil with a vengeance she didn't know she had in her for the tiny creatures.

“You know,” she said, and the words hurt before they even left her mouth, “you might be the only person I've got to talk to. How pathetic is that?”

She worked around the back of the grave, tugging up stray weeds she'd missed the last time.

“I brought you something other than flowers. Maybe you weren't even a flower guy, when you were around. I'm not much of a flower girl, I don't think. I've never really had anyone to buy them for me though. There was Neal...but he...well, let's just say he didn't leave me with any good memories, let alone flowers. Is there anyone who has good memories of you? I wish I knew some. It would be nice to know who you were, not just sit here guessing.”

The cemetery was empty, and that's when Emma felt most at ease, most like she could just say what was on her mind without having to worry about anyone listening, or whether they think she's crazy.

She laid the scraggly bunch of weeds at the side of the grave, reminding herself to take it out to the trash can when she leaves.

“Here,” she shrugged, pulling the seashell from her pocket and placing it on the ledge where she last left flowers.

It was a spiral shell, small, but perfect and white with a soft, amber colored center.

“I don't know if you really like seashells either, but...I picked that up a few years ago down at the beach. In the summer, it's always full of families and couples, so I don't go much, but sometimes when it's a little grey and stormy...it's just the most peaceful place to sit and think.”

She didn't say the rest of what she was thinking aloud – that seeing the happy couples and the parents with their kids just made her stomach clench, that all she could think of was how that was never something her mom wanted to go with her.

– was never something she got the chance to do.

That feels like too much to unload, even on a dead guy.

“It's pretty peaceful here too,” she sighed.

Summer relented and fall crept into the city, the once green leaves crisping and drifting to the ground. Despite getting a payday, she was leaving the precinct in a pretty shitty mood. Her skip had almost given her the slip, and she was going to be nursing a bruised shoulder from where she tumbled in an alley trying to keep up with him. By the time she stepped through the archway of the cemetery, the sun had already set, the streetlamps casting cold halos across the damp ground. She heard them before she saw them, and it took her a few seconds to realize they'd gathered just off the path next to Liam's grave.

“Hey!” she snapped, immediately angered by what she was seeing. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Christ, relax, lady,” one of the kids drawled, taking a swig from his beer and clinking it against the gravestone next to Liam's.

Emma didn't know who it belonged to, but it was always well cared for, and she was furious. There were four kids, teenagers, and they'd stomped all over the damp ground in front of the graves, clearly not caring that they were drinking and walking all over someone's remains.

“Look, kid, you and your buddies have about ten seconds to take your crap and get the hell out of here. I just left the precinct, and I've got Chief Humbert on speed dial – ” They didn't need to know how untrue that was, that, in fact, the guy gave her the creeps “ – so I suggest you take your party somewhere else.”

A few eye rolls and snarky comments later and they'd cleared out, leaving Emma feeling both pleased and worried for herself. She plopped down next to Liam's grave, wincing as her palm hit a piece of broken glass.

“Little shits,” she hissed, pulling the chunk of glass from her hand and setting it aside. It was too dark to find all the pieces. “What the hell am I doing?”

She leaned forward and straightened the seashell that was still resting on the stone, glad it had survived Boston's vagrant youths for this long. Wet leaves stuck to the front and sides of the grave, and she pulled off a few that hid his name.

“That's going to be me one day,” she muttered, eyeing the paltry engraving once more. “Emma Swan, time stamp. I'll be lucky if anyone comes to chase delinquents away from my grave.”

Everything was wet and cold, the smell of decomposing leaves rich in the air, and while fall made most people think of pumpkins and Thanksgiving, warm cups of coffee on cold walks – right now she could only think about how dark and cold and oppressively heavy it must be six feet under.

The next time she visited, she left a little fist-sized pumpkin she'd picked up at the bodega. She'd thought about carving it, what with Halloween around the corner, but that was never something she'd done before, and if she messed it up, she'd have nothing.

It didn't take long for the pumpkin to turn into a Thanksgiving feast for the city's squirrels, barely more than a rind left behind like something someone had tossed into the garbage, and she felt bad. She should have come back sooner.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, removing the half-frozen leftovers and pulling the few stray weeds with enough gumption to grow in later November. “Looks like you had quite a bit of furry company while I was gone. If I were a normal person, I'd be home sharing a Thanksgiving meal with my family, or friends – but I don't have either of those, so here I am, talking to you. Happy Thanksgiving, Liam.”

It wasn't long after the first snow hit Boston, and Emma was reminded of that first time she visited the cemetery and wondered who Liam Jones had been, why no one stopped to visit his grave. She could have googled him, but if she was being honest with herself – which she was really trying to be better about these days – she didn't really want to know if he had family that couldn't be bothered to visit. If she didn't know, she couldn't be angry with them for no reason, since she had no right to be.

She didn't know Liam Jones.

She had no right to bear a grudge for him.

As Christmas approached, Emma saw more people visiting, sometimes with family, and other times alone, leaving little battery powered tea lights and wreaths to warm the cold stone. When she saw the bouquet of poinsettias at the bodega, she didn't feel the least bit strange as she placed it on the counter. There aren't any Christmas decorations in her apartment, but she felt like Liam should have something to show that at least one person was thinking about him on the first Christmas he was missing.

The air was bitter and cold as she made the trek though from her neighborhood to the cemetery, but she didn't mind. When she reached Liam's grave, there was a soft blanket of fresh snow atop it, and she brushed it gently to the ground.

“You know, I really should thank you,” she said quietly, glad for the peace and solitude that hung around her. It made it easier to say the words. “I felt like maybe I was doing something nice for you, remembering you in the way I would want someone to think about me, just so that I wasn't completely forgotten, but I feel like coming here...shit, it'll be a year in a couple months. I think I figured something out. I don't want to be alone, Liam. I know I can't guarantee that I won't be alone one day in the ground, with no one left to care, but...I don't want to feel that way now. I've always kept people at a distance, too afraid to get hurt again, but I'm tired of being alone. I want a life, I want to live it...”

There was no answer, but she hadn't been expecting one.

Instead she leaned down and brushed the snow off the little ledge that still held her seashell, frozen to the stone, and gently placed the poinsettias beside it. She reached out and traced her finger along the carved edge of his name before turning to leave, glancing up at the blue sky between the bare branches of the cherry tree.

“If you're, uh, listening anywhere, well, thanks for everything, Liam. Merry Christmas.”

~ * ~ * ~

When Killian woke, it felt like he was being dragged from the bottom of the sea, every force on earth weighing him down still not enough to keep his blissful, dark peace from being disturbed.

Once the light hit him, it wasn't like in the movies. He didn't wake up groggy, or wondering where he was, confused about the machines beeping around him and the tubes connected to his body.

No, he knew exactly where he was and what led him here, and he wanted nothing more than to sink back down to that darkness that was so complete and starving it devoured every thought before he could think it. He wanted to close his eyes and fall back into that oblivion that had been his only respite from the flashes of memory, the pull of voices.

He didn't want to have to remember the sound that steel makes when it cracks and groans, the way the dock shook beneath their feet as the freighter slid into the crane, the sheer force of it toppling the massive tower of heavy steel as easily as if it were nothing more than a house of cards. He wanted to forget running for his brother, watching the mass of cables and metal come down over them – screaming, screaming his name and trying to reach him, unable to move, unable to breathe...

“Can you hear me? My name is Dr. Whale.”

The voice was leaning over him, his mouth moving, more words floating around him. Killian didn't understand why they wouldn't just leave him alone – he tried to roll onto his side, ignoring the the objections from the doctor, and that's when he felt it – a pain that burned up his arm and into his brain, as if his hand had been crushed by his movement. He jerked his arm, trying to understand what he'd done, why it hurt so badly – and then he saw it.

The bandages, the stump, the strangely shortened arm that most definitely used to have a hand at the end of it – except now there was nothing, and it couldn't possibly be his arm he was looking at, his hand that was missing, because he could feel it. The agony was so real it eclipsed everything else – the pain in his ribs and elsewhere vanishing as he thrashed and tore out lines and catheters.

There were hands on him, holding him – voices shouting, someone screaming. He was screaming, but it was so far away, a sea of darkness rising between him and the place where his hand wasn't, cradling and dragging him back down to that deep oblivion where there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

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

#Captain Swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #living a life

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Morning After

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

A part two/sequel to my fluffember fic Night Out. Not properly proof read and will probably go through some revisions before I archive it, but two Tracys, two hangovers, and one bed! Fluff time~

The first thing Gordon noticed upon awaking was that he was very much not alone in bed. A warm body was pressed up against him, arm draped over his chest in a quite frankly too tight embrace for sleep and the steady in and out of warm breath fluttered against his neck. Brain addled with sleep, he couldn’t identify who they were – surely Lady Penelope wouldn’t be quite so heavy, not that they were anywhere near the sleeping in the same bed stage of any relationship – and attempted to pull away.

That was scuppered by the fact that not only did his mysterious bedfellow have him pinned with the arm across his chest, but that his own arm was trapped beneath their body and was entirely dead because whoever they were was heavy.

Resorting to actually opening his eyes – and wincing at the light streaming in through the windows (was it that late already, and ow how much had he drunk last night?) – he squinted in the direction of his shoulder, where their head was pressed, to see dark brown hair.

Oh, yeah. Now he remembered.

After the absolute disaster that had been the end of their night out, he and Parker had all but dragged Scott to bed, where they’d determined that yes, he was concussed but it really was only minor and most of his behaviour was just because he was drunk. Gordon, as the responsible and caring little brother, had still decided it would be a good idea to spend the night with him, just in case. The bed was plenty big enough for both of them, so what was the problem?

The problem, he was now discovering, was that a drunk Scott was a cuddly Scott, and at some point during the night, Gordon had been relegated to plushie status.

Scowling, he prodded his brother’s cheek.

“Wake up, Scott,” he grumbled. Scott was typically a light sleeper – like Gordon – and woke up at dawn (like Gordon). Also like Gordon, he appeared to have lost both of those traits that morning. Instead of snapping awake, instantly alert, and getting off, Scott grumbled something unintelligible and tightened his grip. Damn alcohol. Why had they thought going out drinking was a good idea?

Well, the evening had been fun until Stool-Bastard decided to ruin it.

“Scoooooooott,” he groaned, jabbing his older brother again. It was even less effective than his first attempt, and he frowned. It was probably just the alcohol, but at the same time he was concussed, even if only mildly. “Scott!”

Whether it was simply a case of third time’s the charm, or if the change of tone had alerted Scott’s inner Smother Hen, that got a slightly more awake groan.

“Shuddup,” Scott grumbled. “Tw’early.”

“I’m fairly sure this is a lie-in by your standards, bro,” Gordon commented, nudging him again and making a fresh attempt to free himself from his brother’s hold. “Are you going to let go any time soon? Nature’s calling and all that.”

The noise he got in response was a clear protest.

“Scott, I love you, bro, but I’m not your plushie or your girlfriend. Or boyfriend, for that matter.”

“Mhrr?”

Honestly, if Gordon wasn’t mildly concerned about the concussion, this would be quite amusing. He’d never seen Scott this clingy in his life and the potential blackmail was stacking up with every passing second.

(He made a mental note to drink with him more often, as long as there were no Stool-Bastards around to concuss his brother.)

“Scott. Bro. Let go.” He punctuated the words with another, fiercer, escape attempt. It was enough to dislodge Scott’s head from his shoulder – or would have been, if Gordon hadn’t realised the danger and caught it. Counter-productive to his freedom, but he wasn’t risking that concussion with anything, even just a fall onto the pillow. “Scott, I will yell for Parker and then everyone will know there’s a cuddle monster in there.”

“M’nster?” Scott mumbled. “Wha’ m’nster, Grds? ‘Sno m’nster.”

“So you are listening to me! Sort of.” Gordon sighed loudly and dramatically, because he really did need to breathe, thank you, Scott. “There is a monster and it’s called Scott Carpenter Tracy, so if he would wake up properly and let a squid breathe it would be much appreciated.”

“’M ‘wake,” his brother protested, sounding about as far from awake as it was possible to be.

“Yeah, no,” Gordon said flatly. “This is not awake. And I really, really, need you to wake up, Scott.”

Right now, the only thing separating Scott from early morning Virgil was the lack of growling. It would be fantastic blackmail if it wasn’t so worrying. Gentle persuasion was clearly not working, and Gordon needed to be sure this was just typical hungover Scott and not a sign that the concussion was worse than they’d thought.

He pinched Scott’s cheek. Hard.

“Ow!” The arm that had been pinning Gordon’s chest moved, hand coming to rub at the abused cheek. “Gordon, what the hell?”

In answer, Gordon tugged at the arm still pinned under his brother, and swallowed a cry of victory when Scott shifted enough for him to reclaim it. Pins and needles immediately sparked to life in his previously numb arm, and he hissed.

Scott’s arm wrapped back around him, although not quite so tightly, and he groaned.

“Are you still drunk, Scott?”

The negative response was muffled by his neck – because apparently Scott hadn’t moved his head at all. “Hungover,” his brother continued, sounding less than pleased about that fact. “And concussed.”

Well, if he could recognise that, it definitely couldn’t have been too serious.

Doing his best to ignore the buzzing pins and needles in his arm – success on that front was minimal – Gordon ran his hand lightly over the back of Scott’s head, where he’d been hit. Scott made a quiet noise of protest but didn’t pull away.

“So hungover Scott is as much of a cuddle monster as drunk Scott?” he queried.

“Shuddup.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he chirped. “But seriously, bro, you need to let go now, okay?”

There was a pause, and Gordon could see the moment Scott realised he was being clingy by the way his spine stiffened. A split second later, his brother was rolling off of his shoulder and releasing him.

Not one to be caught a second time, Gordon immediately sat up and regretted it as his head reminded him that he too had been drinking the previous evening, and just because he’d snapped into something vaguely responsible when Scott was attacked didn’t mean the alcohol had miraculously vanished.

A quiet groan later, and he stumbled his way out of the bed. Nature really was calling, after all, and he ignored his brother’s mumbled attempt at his name – enough concern seeping into his voice that Gordon was confident it was just Smother Hen attempting to appear – to answer.

Scott was still in bed when he returned, now face down in the pillows and looking about as pathetic as Gordon had ever seen him. Wincing at the mild throbbing in his own head, Gordon made his way over and perched on the bed.

“How’s the head?” he asked.

Scott’s answering groan was closer to a whine. Gordon took that as a cue to lean over and take a closer look, only for his hands to be batted away by a disgruntled Scott, who then pulled another pillow over the top of his head in a move much more reminiscent of Alan.

“Don’t do that,” Gordon scolded, tugging it back. “You’ll suffocate yourself.” Scott made another wordless noise of protest.

Hungover Scott was, Gordon was discovering, a priceless source of entertainment.

“Fine, I won’t touch,” he promised, setting the pillow down out of Scott’s immediate reach. “How about I call Parker and get him to bring up some water?”

He could certainly do with some.

“’ff til shuddyup,” Scott mumbled into the pillow. Gordon took that as a yes and pressed the call button.

Parker materialised in the doorway so quickly he could well have been waiting there. In his hands was a tray, carrying a pitcher of water and two plain glass tumblers. To Gordon’s delight, there was also-

“h’Aspirin, for your ‘angovers.” Parker eyed both of them with what Gordon hoped was amusement and not disapproval. “Mr Scott, ‘ow h’are you feeling?”

He got the same groan of misery Gordon had been awarded earlier. Parker’s expression changed to something that looked fondly sympathetic; Gordon would love to know what Scott had done to get himself in Parker’s soft spot.

The tray was put down in Gordon’s reach, and he took the hint to help himself as the butler perched on the other side of the bed, hand lightly on Scott’s shoulder.

“Come h’on, Mr Scott,” he coaxed. “h’If you sit h’up, there’s water and h’aspirin.”

Scott grumbled but, miraculously, moved. He first pushed himself over onto his side, and then collapsed the rest of the way onto his back. Clearly, his spatial awareness was still offline, because the manoeuvre put him awkwardly draped over Gordon’s hip.

“Up you get,” Gordon encouraged, using the leverage to slip an arm underneath his brother’s shoulders and nudge him. From behind an arm, blue eyes shot him a baleful glare.

Still, Scott reluctantly obeyed, dragging himself upright and hunching forwards with another groan.

“Drink.” Gordon pressed a glass of water into his brother’s hand.

He wasn’t sure Scott had ever obeyed him without complaint before, rescues notwithstanding. It was a little bizarre to see his older brother promptly raise the glass to his lips and take a gulp without so much as a disapproving look.

While Gordon was for the moment content to uphold his agreement not to touch, he did find himself peering closely at the back of Scott’s head as he wrapped his arm around his back to support him.

Nothing seemed wrong, although he was willing to bet it was throbbing something awful, especially combined with the hangover. To help, he slipped a dose of aspirin into Scott’s hand, and watched the tablets get swallowed down with as much eagerness as his brother had shown for anything since they’d woken up.

Satisfied for the moment that Scott was handled, he continued his own drink, enjoying the bliss of his own aspirin as it began to take the edge off the headache he was attempting to ignore. Parker, bless the man, had made sure the curtains were closed, preventing the worst of the sun from assaulting his eyes, and with a bit of shuffling, he relocated until he was leaning against the head of the bed.

The sudden appearance of brown in his periphery as a weight settled on his shoulder was thoroughly unexpected.

“Scott?” he asked, looking across to see his brother had joined him and was apparently trying to mimic the previous night by using him as a pillow.

“Shuddup, Gordon,” Scott grumbled, but didn’t pull his head back or make any attempt to straighten from his slumped posture.

Oh, there was so much blackmail to be had here. Gordon reminded himself that he wanted to go out again with Scott, to see what he was like without the concussion messing things up. Just… maybe later.

After his head stopped complaining about last night.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew, there were low voices in conversation and a click of a camera.

Dragging open eyes he didn’t remember closing, there was something blue and green and-

Uh oh.

“That makes one of you awake.”

Virgil sounded amused, at least. Gordon yawned, but found himself unable to stretch. Something was weighing down his left side, and as he glanced across he saw a shock of brown bedhead.

Huh, how had he missed that earlier?

And when had Virgil turned up? He wasn’t supposed to be picking them up until late afternoon.

“You’re early,” he accused, trying to escape pillow-duty and finding that his arm had at some point wrapped around Scott’s waist, holding him close.

“I’m not.” Virgil came closer, amusement fading to concern as he reached for Scott’s head and gently probed with his fingers. Parker had told him, then. “You two slept the whole day away.”

Scott grumbled discontentedly and burrowed further into Gordon’s shoulder, away from Virgil’s investigations. Their medic brother was not so easily deterred, however, and a subconscious hand trying to bat him away was instead captured and passed to Gordon to restrain.

“How is he?” Gordon asked, obediently clasping his brother’s wrist to stop him pushing Virgil away. He was fairly confident that Scott was fine, but Virgil was undeniably better at diagnoses.

“Stubbornly thick-headed,” Virgil concluded after another few moments. Blue eyes opened a crack, and the wrist in Gordon’s grip tugged harder. Virgil, ever attuned to their biggest brother, immediately swooped in with a penlight, which Scott grumbled loudly about. “Should clear up in the next day or two. Welcome back to the land of the living, Scott.”

“Did you have to shine that in my eye the moment I woke up?” their big brother complained, sounding much more like himself again.

Virgil was thoroughly unrepentant.

“Get dressed, you two,” he said. “It’s time to go home.”

“Already?” Scott winced, dragging himself upright and raising a hand to the side of his head. “Urgh.”

“It’s late afternoon, as agreed,” Virgil informed him. “Don’t worry, you’ve got another forty-eight hours of downtime to go.” He eyed them both, and Gordon realised that despite Scott raising his head they were still rather tangled together. “I’ll meet you in the drawing room when you’re ready. Don’t go back to sleep.”

“F.A.B.,” Gordon chirped, unwinding his arm from around Scott’s waist as his older brother peeled himself away from him.

One more assessing look from warm brown eyes – mostly focused Scott’s way – and Virgil left the room.

“Well, I’d say that’s time to move,” Gordon quipped once the door shut, leaving the two of them alone. “You good to get up?”

“I’m fine,” Scott retorted, inelegantly clambering off the large bed and narrowly avoiding face-planting the floor. There was the stubborn big brother Gordon knew. “Get dressed, Gordon.”

Gordon eyed him as he regained his balance and headed for his packed bag, before concluding that Scott was probably stubborn enough to not fall over. As the Creighton-Ward Manor was far from small, he himself had his own room, which was where his bag was waiting for him, so with one last assessing look at his big brother, he slipped out to get his stuff.

Scott was no doubt expecting him to go downstairs to join Virgil and Lady Penelope once he was presentable – and on any other occasion, Gordon would be doing exactly that, especially as he’d managed to sleep the day away instead of spending it with Lady Penelope as planned – but he was still concerned about Scott, so with his bag slung over his shoulder he returned to his brother’s room.

His brother was dressed and attempting to tame his bedhead when he walked in, pot of gel on the vanity table as he glowered at the mirror. Of course, Scott couldn’t possibly be seen with a hair out of place. Gordon rolled his eyes as his brother’s reflection winced, fingers obviously catching the origin of his concussion.

“Sit down,” he ordered. Scott jumped, apparently having missed him coming up behind him despite looking in the mirror.

“Gordon?”

“That’s me, bro.” Gordon hooked a foot around the stool and yanked it behind Scott before putting a hand on his shoulder and pressing down. “Sit.”

“What do you want?” Scott didn’t budge, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “I’m almost done.”

“You’ve barely started,” Gordon rebuked, flicking a particularly flyaway section of hair. “Virgil won’t wait forever, you know.” He put both his hands on Scott’s shoulders and pushed again. His brother reluctantly sank down onto the seat.

“Gordon, what are you doing?” Scott demanded. Gordon let his bag fall to the lushly carpeted floor and scooped up the hair gel.

“Doing your hair.”

“What?” His brother swivelled around sharply, before wincing. Gordon rolled his eyes again and gently prodded him into facing forwards again.

“You can watch what I’m doing in the mirror,” he reminded him, running his fingers lightly through his brother’s bedhead. At least part of it was obviously caused by using his shoulder as a pillow.

Blue eyes locked with his suspiciously via the mirror. He grinned at them.

“Relax, Scott,” he soothed. “I’m not going to do anything you wouldn’t.” He wasn’t even sure why he’d decided to take over his brother’s hair-care routine, except Scott had looked like he was going to fall over the way he’d been standing, and maybe he was still worried.

“You’d better not,” his brother threatened, which was also a surrender and permission. Gordon ran his fingers through a few more times, catching the flyaway strands and reminding them where they usually settled before scooping some gel out of the pot to work into the brown hair.

It wasn’t quite up to Scott’s usual standards, because Gordon wasn’t Scott and didn’t usually use so much hair gel – and also because no matter how gentle he was, Scott still flinched when his fingers brushed where he’d been bashed. Still, it was a pretty good attempt, if he did say so himself, and Scott wasn’t voicing any complaints.

Then again, Scott was probably surprised Gordon had done as promised and not added any twists to the hairstyle. Another time, maybe.

“All done,” he declared, after one last time running his fingers through. Scott squinted at the mirror, touching his hair lightly, before passing judgement.

“It’ll do.”

Coming from Scott, that was suspiciously high praise. Gordon eyed him as he pulled himself to his feet.

“You okay, bro?” he asked.

“Fine.” The response was so fast it had to be automatic, but Scott made no move to retract it. Instead, he reclaimed the pot of hair gel and tossed it in his bag. Gordon stooped to retrieve his own, slinging it over one shoulder. “Best not to keep Virgil waiting, otherwise he’ll come see what’s taking us so long.”

He wasn’t wrong. Gordon was somewhat surprised their brother hadn’t already returned to check up on them. He said as much, and Scott gave a grimaced smile.

Big brother could dish the smothering, but he wasn’t so good at taking it.

“I’m fine,” he said, despite the fact they both knew his head was still hurting him. Scott shouldered his bag and headed towards the door, only to pause and wrap an arm around Gordon’s shoulders in a clear half-hug. “But thanks for looking out for me last night.”

The words were accompanied by a smile, and Gordon reached out to squeeze him back.

“What else was I supposed to do?” he asked, only half-joking. “You’re my brother. I get dibs on messing with you, not some drunk down the pub.”

Scott huffed out a laugh. “Love you, too, little brother. Now we need to find Virgil before he starts worrying.”

As though he thought he’d ever stopped. Still, Gordon grinned. “Let’s get you home, big brother.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #aloysius parker #virgil tracy #fluffember #tsari writes fanfiction #thunderfluff

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littleturtle95 · 4 years

Text

Alec’s birthday weekend celebration 🥰 Day 2 // free space. TLBOTW review

I havent’t seen a review for the book, only critics/praising and comments on specific moments, so I’m here to do a proper analysis.

This book has many perks and a few lows and I’d like to talk about both. I’ll start with the lows to end on a positive note. Surfing on the internet I’ve read that the plot feels a bit rushed, and I have to agree. I had the impression that the whole book serves the sole purpose of introducing Sammael and showing the last scene with all the princes of hell. Everything that leads to that (the thorn, the two swords then merging into one, the trip to Diyu, Shanghai and the false tracks) were born and died in this book and it felt like they were not well integrated with the TSC universe, they were just there to write something that could realistically lead to the final moment. The two swords Alec and Magnus carry are literal Gods that we’ve never heard before, they use them one time and then they’re gone. You don’t introduce something this powerful that carries so much weight just to shrug it off after one use, one use that doesn’t even involve the sake of our main characters (and why did only Alec have to be tested to prove his worth? both Alec and Magnus got a sword 🤔 that’s something I didn’t understand at all, if you know it feel free to explain in the comments) Another example of this are the two guardians of Diyu, the demons that heal constantly touching the ground of hell, apparently undefeatable. You don’t introduce something like that and kill it off in half a chapter, it’s anticlimactic. And you don’t hype up the father of all demons and then you get him defeated by Isabelle riding a tiger (come on he should have killed them all in that scene) and, even worse, you make him run away like a common demon after things start getting rough. Shinyu leaves and Sammael is “Fuck this, I’m out.” Bitch, you’re a Prince of hell! You’re the Prince of hell! Stop her! Kill them! WTF dude. Yeah, I think this is the main problem of the book. It introduces these huge elements and then it shrugs them off in the most anticlimactic way possible. The other thing I didn’t like was Ragnor’s reaction to Raphael’s dead. Ragnor probably isn’t one to make a fuss, but ffs they were extremely close friends. In TBC Ragnor scolds Magnus because Raphael calls him much more than Magnus does, they exchanged letters, calls, gossip, they used to have meetings, in GOTSM we see them greeting eachother with a high five, and we know how Raphael gets, he’s not so openly friendly even with Magnus and he died for him. They weren’t friends, they were great friends. All we get is a “he passes all stages of grief at once” and “I liked him // He liked you too”. Ohhhhhhhh and a “every war has a life count” like WHAT THE FUCK Seriously? Okay.

Well, what I didn’t like is over so let’s start with the perks. I’ve read many times that the characters are ooc. Jace feeling down because he has a broken foot and he can’t fight (Jace Herondale would never avoid a fight for a broken bone!!!), Simon feeling insecure (the first time he went down to hell things were even worse and he didn’t make such a fuss!!!), Alec calling Magnus pet names (it’s not like him he never did it!!!) and I’ll tell you this: At first I had this impression too, but in the long run I don’t think it’s fair to say those things. The TMI gang we know is younger, less mature, a teenage rebel gang. We read about the grown up them in other spin off books or in TDA, that’s for sure, but not as main characters, just as cameos, so it feels weird to see them as grownups. We thought we were familiar with them but we don’t feel the same familiarity anymore and that’s fine. It would be crazy if they were the same people as before. The Jace we knew was reckless, self destructive and didn’t care much if he lived or died. This Jace that doesn’t feel safe fighting with a broken foot and chooses to guide the others with his strategies is a Jace that knows his limits, a Jace that cares about his life and understands that his well being affects others, a Jace that accepts that the fact he can’t fight for once doesn’t make him less worthy. This Jace is the Jace he became, we are not used to it, we don’t recognise him at first, but what he does is perfectly normal. It would have been less realistic if he acted like he would have acted in City of Bones or even City of Heavenly Fire. This Simon is not the Simon he was the first time they went to Hell. That time he was a vampire, he wasn’t expecting to die. That time he cared deeply about Clary, he fancied Isabelle, but that was kind of all of it. Now he cares about Clary yes, but Isabelle is his family. Jace is his family. Magnus and Alec are his family, too. He is worried because he is mortal and because he has much more to lose. He is worried because he just lost a friend and for the first time he has to come to terms with the fact that being a Shadowhunter really means you go out in the morning and you don’t know if you’ll make it to dinner time. And this doesn’t only affect his bestfriend and the girl he dated while he dated some other chick. This affects him, his fiancée, his parabatai and the rest of his family. It’s not like City of Heavenly Fire, it’s okay for Simon to break down like this, it’s not ooc, it’s a character that changed because the story lead him to change. Alec calls Magnus pet names and is affectionate because he is not the closeted angsty teen he was in TMI. He is a father, a man, someone that knows his loved ones support him and someone who doesn’t have to hide. Come on, in GOTSM he showed Magnus’ and Max’s pictures to everyone he’s met, he stops randomly a werewolf girl getting ice cream, points at Magnus and says “See that man? That’s My Husband overthere.” He is not “He’s not my warlock” Alec, he is “That’s my husband” Alec and we aren’t used to it because we’ve never seen him as a main character in other books after his change, but we know this change happened so we can’t have a Pikachu face if Alec says “My love” or kisses him on the street in front of other people. This is not ooc, this is Alec, the same one, the one who is now more than twenty years old and wants to get married and is raising a child and in a few years is becoming consul. It would be absolutely nonsense for him to keep the distance he kept in TMI. Another complain I’ve seen is “not enough Malec and too many characters”. I don’t think there were too many characters and I don’t feel like we hadn’t enough Malec. Yes, the whole TMI gang was there but I liked that, that’s a plus for me. It’s true, Alec and Magnus’ relationship didn’t evolve in this book, they stayed pretty much the same, we don’t see an actual arc like we did in TRSOM but the romance was still there. There’s no need for relationship drama, and a book about romance doesn’t have to be a push and pull to be interesting. We had a lot of romance, but the angst and the challenges came from other people. It was an established relationship book and I think it worked well with it. The exchanges between the characters were genuine, witty, and I feel like every one of them bonded just right. The relationship between Alec and Jace, Simon and Clary, the other two couples, they were all on point and in character and I liked all their interactions. It was really nice to read them all together and I needed this. Now, the Tian discourse. I feel like Cassandra did a great foreshadowing with this one, something that I immediately noticed. In TRSOM I knew the whole time that Shinyun was going to betray them. It was said multiple times that Alec didn’t trust her and when they’re on the boat in Venice coming back from the party Alec is sleeping and still stops Shinyun that was going to touch Magnus waking up for a moment. Alec is really smart at reading people (except for understanding when they’re in love and that’s hilarious). A line that made me go mhhhh🤔 was when the book says “Alec trusted Tian”. Why say that in that way, totally random mid chapter? Why not to say the others trusted Tian too? Magnus at least? Or why to say anything at all? In that moment they weren’t discussing his worth and he hadn’t even started to act weird. The line made no sense. So I wondered if the line wasn’t saying Alec trusted Tian, the line was saying we should trust Tian, because the other time a trip like this happened Alec didn’t trust Shinyun and she turned out to be a total pain in the ass. Another thing I loved was the action. This is what I want from a TSC book, I want demon hunts, magic artifacts, trips to hell, weapon shopping. Our shadowhunters actually shadow hunting. This book had more of it than TRSOM, so kudos to that. To give this rant a end, I enjoyed this book. I enjoyed this book very much. I disagreed with some choices, I disliked some details, but I’m glad I bought it. It brought me back home, and that’s everything I wanted. This family, the TMI family, is a bit like my family now, and they were so much themselves that I couldn’t help but love it.

P.S. The cameos were rad. The parts with Maryse and Kadir were perfect, I adored Elyaas and when I read there was Raphael I screamed.

#alecsbdayweekwendcelebration #tlbotw spoilers #tlbotw spoiler #the lost book of the white #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #Detective AU #the eldest curses #review #book commentary #brithday event

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nanafics · 3 years

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Solace, Part 1

「Itadori Yuuji x Fem Reader」

((notes: this ff contains jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers. it doesn't really have that much correlations to the actual plot since I made up a lot of this lol, but there's a few information spoilers in here, so just a heads up for that.))

☆〜　｡｡｡｡｡｡。。。。。。｡｡｡｡｡｡｡。。。。。☆〜

I couldn’t possibly convey to you how relieved I was when I saw him running towards me, arms wide open. I couldn’t help but to return his action by running just as fast, impatiently wanting to get into his arms.

He got to me first and pulled me into the comfiest embrace I’ve ever been in. I have always felt the safest in his arms, knowing damn well he was the one who was in danger but now, all that worries of ours had vanished. He won. They won I suppose, but most importantly, he was safe now.

“We did it. We really finished it and won this time. I really couldn’t believe it. Geto, no. Kenjaku. He is dead now, for good and he’s never coming back." The way he said it almost made me cry. Sometimes I'd forget how volatile their sense of safety was. For all we know, he could be killed in his sleep by some untended cursed spirits.

To no remorse, he continued to hug me tighter and leaned his head down to put it into the crook of my neck. I breathed in the scent of his hair. It smells nice even after long hours of fighting and being around cursed spirit. To be honest, I don’t even know if cursed spirit has smell. haha. Anyways, he was here, and I was with him. That’s the most important thing right now.

“So, is everything good now? I know it couldn’t possibly be okay with all the destruction he has caused but I mean, he’s dead. Thank God. I bet all you guys have to do now is to reconstruct the system, right?”

He took a few moments to think about it before replying. “Well, all that is left to do now is to deal with the higher ups. I heard from Gojo-sensei that he’d take the responsibility. By that, I think he just meant he wanted to erase them, once and for all."

He stopped for a moment to contemplate his next words before continuing. "I thought about it on the way here. I realized all my life, I have been saying that killing should be the last and least-favored choice, but I suppose at this point it’s not a choice anymore. If we don’t get to them first, they’d totally banish us from the jujutsu world, or even worse put bounties on our head. Again. Worst case scenario they'd use our loved ones to lure us in. Deep down, I... I don’t know if I deserve to live but I know you do, and all of my friends too. Megumi, and all the senpais, they all deserve to live a normal life. I don’t think we’ll be able to handle it if we’re still on the run.”

I took a look on his face and it stricken me how much he had been through. All this time, I have always wanted to be of help of him, to go to missions together, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t and will never be a jujutsu sorcerer. We were just childhood buddies, both trying as hard as possible to be loyal to our friendship despite the differences in our world. Now that jujutsu and the non-jujutsu worlds were both co-existing in the same chaos, we were pulled towards each other by the fate of hell. It’d be great if everything was easier and simpler, but this was better than nothing.

He was looking at my face now. “I could guess you're feeling bad about all this right now. You don’t have to feel that way. I’m okay. I have Megumi and all the others to help me now, and if there would be anything that’s out of our control, there’d be Gojo-sensei now that he’s finally freed from the prison realm. Honestly, I’m kind of worried about Gojo-sensei. We both knew what happened a few years ago when he had to kill Geto. Just now, he had to relive it all over again with Geto dying in his arms. What’s worse was that this time, Gojo-sensei decided not to finish him off and just let him die slowly. Honestly, I don’t know what was his intention of doing so. I bet he just want to spend a few more moments with his best friend, even though it was merely just his body that was in Gojo-sensei’s arms and nothing more.”

Now that I think about it, it meant Yuuji and Megumi were the only ones to fight Kenjaku (in Geto’s body), because that blind-folded teacher of his wasn’t there, and Yuuta-san and Maki-san were the one to free him off the prison realm. In the few moments that I was absorbing all this information, Yuuji called out to me.

“I’m really sorry. I have to go now. Is that okay? I promise I’ll come back here the first thing in the morning.” He said suddenly.

I was taken aback at first but then remembered he had just left a literal battlefield and thought it was good for him to finally rest. “God, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry for keeping you here, it’s just that this is the first time we see each other for months now. Anyways, you should rest now. Don’t feel like you need to go see me the first thing tomorrow. Have a good night sleep and eat and take a bath, or something. I bet you haven’t gotten enough of that for the past few weeks.” I gave him a reassuring smile.

He returned the smile before finally say “Thank you. Anyway, I’ll walk you back to your room. You’re still living here in jujutsu high for now, right? Good for you. Sure, you can take care of yourself but cursed spirits have been on a rampage for months now. It gives me a peace of mind to know that at least Maki-san is here with you in the girls’ lodgings, should anything happen.”

He took my hands and we walked back to the girls’ living quarter. It took about 5 minutes to get there from where we were talking. In that 5 minutes, I contemplated asking him everything I’ve been wanting to ask.

How was he? Had he been eating properly? Why do I feel like I’ve seen more scars in his face now than I did then? Of course, fighting curses isn’t without its danger but this is SO MUCH MORE than I had expected.

I thought it was better that we talk about this some other times, when we would finally be at peace. I suppose that time will come before long.

We were finally in front of my dorm room’s door. I took the brief chance to say what has been burdening my mind. “Yuuji, I’m honestly really worried about you. Please take a great care of yourself, and seek for help if you need to. You don’t have to fight alone, be it physical or not. Even if I cant physically be there for you , I’m here for you to confide in. We’ve been friends since forever, I think you can at least trust me a little on that, right?”

He burst into a light laugh before pulling me into the last hug for the night. He nuzzled on my hair as he rested his head on top of mine and mumbled softly “I know, and I’m thankful to have you too. If you let me, I promise I’ll be there for you from now on."

#Spotify

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belladxne · 4 years

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i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 3

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 4,454

chapter 3: who do you follow when there’s no one else around you? (tell me where i need to go)

Eijiro’s quiet while they prepare lunch, but Inko doesn’t press him. She seems content to wait for him to express what’s bothering him, while they both go about their parts. She keeps up a constant commentary, explaining the steps to everything she does to prepare and cook the food, and all the seasonings she uses, even though Eijiro hasn’t asked.

She’s either determined to teach him to cook, or just to keep him distracted from the thoughts weighing in his head, but either one is appreciated. At one point, he struggles to keep his hair out of his face as he cuts up the pork he’d hunted down earlier for their meal, and she jumps up from her seat with more agility than he’d expect from someone her age, proclaiming that she has just the thing.

She rummages for only a few moments in a pot at the other end of her small, one-room home, before coming back to him with a few short lengths of string and handkerchiefs.

“Here, sweetie,” she says, as she folds one of the handkerchiefs a few times until it’s a thin strip, and then helps him secure it around his hair as a headband. “You can keep these. They’ll come in handy with that hair of yours.”

She’s maybe the absolute kindest person in all of Hyrule, and Eijiro’s so glad she was here when he awoke. One hundred years—in which he’d been… been resurrected, apparently. And in which the kingdom had fallen apart around him. He could have woken up alone up here, with no help, but instead he has Inko, and he’s so grateful.

He must have been silent too long, though, because eventually as she’s just finishing up the cooking, she sighs gently and asks, “Eijiro, dear, what’s on your mind?”

“Oh.” He echoes her sigh, though his is a lot heavier, and looks down at his hands. He’s been thinking about it, too much, on and off ever since he saw the words on the map. “Well, it’s… I found out the name of the place I came from, the one I was asking about. It’s, um, it’s the Shrine of Resurrection.”

He knows what that word means, okay, he knows—and—and why else would he need to sleep for so many years? And how else could he sleep for so long and come out of it so young? He looks up at Inko, chewing nervously at his lip.

“Inko, do you think I’m dead?” he asks, somewhat pitifully.

She stares at him for a couple of moments, before “Oh, honey,” escapes her abruptly in what sounds like a laugh, though it’s not unkind. She just sounds sympathetic, if a little amused. “No, no, sweetheart. Of course you’re not.”

“But… I mean, what if...”

How could they know, really? He can feel himself pouting again as he looks at her with big, worried eyes, but she tilts her head at him with a fond, if concerned expression. “Eijiro, trust me. I’ve been in this world a very long time. I’m probably one of the most qualified people around to tell you you’re not dead. By the time you get to be my age, you’ve learned a thing or two; I promise I could tell if you were.”

Eijiro nods, but he continues to gnaw at his lower lip in thought. A slightly amused huff escapes Inko, and she stands, wiping her hands clean on a rag she’s had set aside, before she marches around the table to pinch at his cheek teasingly.

“Ow, ow!” he whines, wiping at the spot she’d pinched even though it hadn’t hurt that bad. She chuckles, moving back around the table to move their lunch—sautéed mushrooms and herbs, with seared pork—onto plates for both of them.

“See?” she asks, the laughter lines around her eyes deepening once more. “Couldn’t feel that if you were dead. You’re flesh and blood and very alive, dear, I promise.”

He sighs again, but he does feel better, and he manages a small smile that he’s surprised to realize is genuine.

Gods, Eijiro loves meat.

Inko was right, and he’s glad he waited to eat before tackling the shrine. There’s a monster camp just outside of it, and he’s downright gleeful about getting to have that fight on a full stomach—and he can’t imagine how much worse it’d have felt, to have to fight past them with arms still shaky and achy from the climb down the Great Plateau Tower.

When he finally steps up onto the level surface before the shrine, admittedly, his shoulders and muscles all feel sore and protest at most movements, but they’re still steadier than they might have been. There’s a pedestal, just to the side of the gate into the shrine. The gate looks similar to the doors that had kept him sealed into the Shrine of Resurrection, with interlocking panels pressed together—but these ones lie horizontal, instead of vertical.

He hears a tune sound from the Sheikah Slate, and as he pulls it from his hip to approach the pedestal, he sees that the map now displays two new emblems—another bright blue one, where the tower is, and an orange one here, at the shrine. It also displays a name over this shrine—Oman Au Shrine.

It’s a little less straightforward than ‘Shrine of Resurrection’, but it doesn’t really matter, he guesses.

He looks down at the pedestal, and the incredibly helpful advice of, ‘this isn’t complicated,’ flashes through his mind, making him chuckle as he moves to press the Sheikah Slate to this pedestal, the same as he did to get out of the Shrine of Resurrection. This time his slate has to confirm instead of authenticate, whatever either of those things even mean, and then the voice delivers another new phrase.

“Travel gate registered to map.”

He wonders what travel gate means, turning to look behind him curiously as the large circular emblem in the platform behind him lights up blue, again with that strange blue energy clouding off of it for a moment. And then, after a chime of “Access granted,” the door just past the pedestal begins to open—this time the panels swiveling in, instead of sliding past each other.

It’s… just a hollow little nook? He expected maybe a stairway or passageway leading down, but it’s empty in there, but for another slightly smaller circular emblem on the floor inside. It’s patterned differently, but it’s also lit up. Cautiously, Eijiro goes to stand on it—gods, he hopes this structure isn’t about to shoot up into the sky, too.

Instead, the circular marking on the floor shifts, and smoothly—and gently, thank the Goddesses—it begins to sink down. Eijiro watches, wide-eyed as this apparent platform just—floats? Seemingly suspended by nothing, as it slowly lowers him through a dark tunnel, lower and lower into the ground. He can’t quite see yet where the platform is taking him, so he cranes his head instead to watch the sliver of sunlight up above slowly shrink with distance.

When he finally emerges from the bottom of the chute he’s been descending down, and the shrine opens up around him, it’s—

Oman Au Shrine is otherworldly. It’s hard to believe that the rest of the world even can exist, somewhere far above this.

It’s not dark and claustrophobic like the Shrine of Resurrection was, and there isn’t a thick layer of dust choking the air or the same atmosphere of abandonment, despite what Inko had said about no one being able to enter. There’s an unnaturally bright, blue-ish light that beams down from the entirety of the ceiling. Unlike the Shrine of Resurrection, this space is—it’s huge, much more open, and instead of the curved walls of the Shrine of Resurrection sealing him in, nearly everything here is angular, compiled of rectangles or squares.

Something… something about the structure reminds him of a child’s construction out of blocks—like not all of the shapes fit together quite how they’re supposed to, bits of black and tan stone jutting out just a little farther here and there. It adds all the more to the unreal feeling of this place.

An altogether new feeling hits him as soon as he steps down from the platform—unlike with the voice that calls to him from the castle, which he almost hears, though the sound is more in his mind than in his ears, now a sensation of words washes over him, but it’s not at all like hearing them. It’s barely even like feeling them. It’s like the words are just… appearing in his mind.

To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Oman Au. In the name of the god Bakusatsuo, I offer this trial.

There’s a sensation just ghosting at the edges of his mind with the words, something that feels ancient, but… not malicious, at least? It’s deeply unfamiliar and unsettling, and he knows he’s never experienced anything like it in his life, but he gets the sense that whatever entity or force just—spoke?—to him, it’s very, very old.

Off to his left is another pedestal with a black, somewhat-pointed stone suspended above it, just like at the tower, so Eijiro gets to work.

This time, when the glowing fluid drips onto his Sheikah Slate, it’s not a map that appears on the screen. It says it’s a... rune? He doesn’t know exactly what that means in this context, but he does know that Sheikah use runes in their magic—is that what this is? Is this gonna let his slate do magic? Let him do magic? Oh, he so wants to do magic.

Eijiro can fucking do magic.

He’s never felt this cool in his life, slinging giant chunks of metal around like they’re weightless, through the power of whatever odd tether forms out of the slate when he activates the rune. After he’s worn out the fun of marveling in his new unchecked power—(okay, it’s a little checked; he can lift anything made of metal, but he can only move it so fast and only up to a certain distance, and he can’t even lift metal objects that he’s standing on, which is lame)—he finally moves on to the trial that’s apparently set before him.

It feels like less of a trial and more of a hands-on lesson to get him used to the rune. There’s more than a few opportunities for him to get creative about moving obstacles, finding things that are out of his reach or not immediately visible without use of the rune, and stacking or arranging things to get around to places he otherwise couldn’t reach.

He quickly feels like a pro at toppling walls of obstacles, making metal bridges, and climbing metal boxes. It gets almost boring fast, and the only things that throw him off, and that he could have done without, are the automatons sprung on him about halfway through, when he still has the slate out and isn’t suddenly ready for combat.

By the time he’s using the rune to heave open the hulking metal gates at the end of his trial, wincing from the results of that battle—the machines had shot lasers at him, lasers! And though he’d hardened in time, his skin still stings, feeling burnt and raw where the beams had hit—he feels like he’s been here ages. The slate says it’s been more like only an hour and a half, but he’s still way too ready to be done already.

Past the gates is an odd, elevated—platform? Or altar, or something like that. Eijiro freezes in his spot when he lays eyes on the spectacle before him. There’s two tiny sets of stairs, only six shallow steps to each, leading up to the odd platform, which is encased on all sides by some glowing blue screen or window. But it’s what’s inside that transparent blue wall that gives him pause, because—

Because that’s definitely a dead guy. Oh, gods, that’s so a dead guy, sitting there.

Eijiro only continues forward very begrudgingly, closing in to notice that this freaky, shriveled and mummified form with long white hair is in some sort of meditative pose, with his hands shaped together to form a triangle. He’s also pretty distinctively wearing clothes that remind Eijiro of traditional Sheikah garb, a hat slung over his back that’s of obvious Sheikah make, and, oh, Eijiro shouldn’t neglect to note the shadow people’s symbol painted blatantly on this man’s forehead. He’s also shirtless, which Eijiro can respect.

Reluctantly, he climbs the steps, coming to a stop at the small, railed-in landing at the top of the second set. Oh, he’s way too close to this dead guy for his liking. Is there something he’s supposed to do here…?

There are a few seconds spent shuffling awkwardly in place, hoping for something to happen as he alternates between looking at the mummy and the Sheikah eye that hovers between them on the glowing window, before Eijiro finally sighs. He’s gonna regret this, but fuck it. He clearly is supposed to do something, so he—with every instinct in his body screaming at him not to—reaches up to touch the Sheikah symbol on the partition in front of him.

The whole thing shatters, and he jumps.

Again, he gets that suggestion of words, not heard or felt but still somehow there, and he knows without a doubt that their origin is this dead Sheikah before him. They’re a little stronger now that he’s closer to the source, but still a foreign and indistinct feeling.

You have proven to possess the resolve of a true hero. I am Oman Au, the creator of this trial. I am a humble monk, blessed with the sight of the god Bakusatsuo and dedicated to helping those who seek to defeat All For One. With your arrival, my duty is now fulfilled. In the name of the god Bakusatsuo, allow me to bestow this gift upon you. Please accept the strength of my spirit.

Eijiro blinks, brow furrowing as he wonders what that means—but then he sees what it means, as suddenly, a compact, hazy cloud of purple—he doesn’t even know, energy?—seeps out of the monk’s chest, and—and begins to drift towards him.

A little alarmed, Eijiro staggers half a step back in a probably less-than-manly move, eyes flicking between the monk and the approaching haze—but before he can make the decision to bolt, unsure what the hell that substance is exactly, it touches his chest and begins to absorb into him. He yelps, one hand reaching up to clutch over his heart like he can somehow pull the essence back out of himself, the other clinging at the railing like a lifeline so he doesn’t tumble down the stairs in his attempt to reel away.

He feels… he doesn’t know, something blanket and course through him, the feeling deeply unsettling and he wants to ask this guy to take it back.

May Bakusatsuo smile upon you.

As Eijiro watches, the monk before him starts to—to disintegrate, freaking him right the hell out as the mummified Sheikah dissolves into greenish particles that float away upwards. His eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of his head and he’s half a second from hyperventilating as he stares, mouth agape.

Oh, gods. Oh, gods, did he just get possessed? He doesn’t want to be possessed! He does not want some weird ancient monk to pilot him around! Not cool! It’s not cool!

He needs to sit and have a moment before he can make his way back to the platform out of the shrine.

Inko is waiting for him when he does get out of the shrine. He steps out into the sunlight, still unsettled but comforted by normal fresh air and surroundings again, and she steps up onto the surface at the entrance of the shrine, meeting him.

“How did it go, sweetie?” She looks him over, eyes crinkling warmly in the way he’s used to. “You have a different sense about you. You look a little heartier.”

This is the last thing Eijiro wants to hear right now, and he looks at her in alarm. “I seem different? What do you mean? Different how? Do I still seem like me?” Oh, he’s so possessed. He’s so possessed by a weird old dead monk man. This is the worst.

Taken aback, Inko blinks owlishly at him. Concern coloring her expression, she steps closer with furrowed brows. “What do you mean? Of course you do.”

“But are you sure?” he asks, a little desperate.

“Yes! Eijiro, sweetheart, what happened in there to have you in this state?”

The story comes pouring out of him all in one breath, voice only getting more hysterical as he goes. “I don’t know, I—I went in there and there was a trial? Sort of? It wasn’t really hard at all it was just kind of teaching me how to use a new thing on my Sheikah Slate and there were machines that attacked me and then there was this weird old dead guy at the end of it and he said he’d give me ‘the strength of his spirit’ and then this weird purple stuff came into me and now I think I’m possessed!”

Inko stares. Eijiro stares back, probably a little wild-eyed and frightened. Not for the first time today, Inko’s eyebrows lift high on her face, and then she shakes her head as she reaches out to place a hand on his arm. “Eijiro, honey, don’t you think you’d notice something different about yourself if you were possessed?”

“Maybe?” He’s so desperately hoping she’s right, but he’s just a little freaked out right now. “Just—I don’t know, what if, like, my own thoughts are different so I’m not even thinking like me and that’s why I don’t notice?”

“I think if you were possessed by something that made you think differently, you wouldn’t be worried about being possessed at all,” she reasons, firm in her stance. After a beat, she tilts her head and asks, “Are you always this paranoid about silly things?”

“No!” He can’t help but be defensive. “I mean. I don’t think so?” Given a moment to process the whole conversation, he finds himself a little embarrassed, dropping his face into his hands with a groan. “I’m sorry, I’ve had a really weird day, Inko.”

She chuckles sympathetically, patting his arm comfortingly. He doesn’t want to come out from behind his hands, but he appreciates the gesture nonetheless. “How about we get to thinking about your next step, hm? What happened while you were in there? Did your voice speak to you again?”

Eijiro doesn’t even want to get into the happy little jump his heart performs when she refers to the voice he’s heard so much as his, so instead he focuses on taking a deep breath and removing his fingers from his face. He shakes his head, trying not to be disappointed.

“No, I haven’t heard from him again.” He’d really been hoping that using Sheikah technology was the key to prompting him to speak but… apparently not. “Um… okay, so. I got down into the shrine, and this, um, really old Sheikah monk, who was like, shriveled up and mummified? He said it was a trial. And when I finished the trial, he said...”

Eijiro’s brow furrows as he tries to remember, exactly. He’d gotten pretty distracted and weirded out, afterwards, so the words hadn’t exactly had time to stick.

“He said… that I have the resolve of a true hero? And some stuff about Bakusatsuo, and that he was supposed to help anyone who wants to fight All for One.” Thinking back on it, Eijiro definitely starts to feel a little silly, now. Obviously, the monk wouldn't possess him if he wanted to help him. “And then he said he was giving me a gift, and he, like—disintegrated, after sending some weird purple… stuff into me, I don’t know, that’s when I got weirded out.”

Inko hums thoughtfully, considering. Just when she’s opening her mouth to respond, Eijiro spots an old, battered metal crate nearby and remembers.

“Oh!” He’s already whipping the slate out in his excitement, activating the magnesis rune. “And I can do this now!”

He uses the slate to grab the box, lifting it into the air—Inko lets out a quiet cry of, “Goodness!”—and moving it away from them, before dropping it with a heavy thud and beaming at her.

“That looks awfully handy,” she admits with an indulgent smile. “Just be careful with it. So, if that shrine gave you an ability like that, and was placed there to help you fight All for One, it stands to reason that the others will probably help you, too? There are a few more shrines even here, on the Great Plateau. Maybe you could go to them, while we figure out how to get you down?”

Moving to clip the slate back to his belt, Eijiro’s eyebrows raise. “There are? Where?”

Admittedly, he’s not exactly eager to have more of that weird purple… mist, or whatever, thrown at him, but this magnesis thing is cool. If the other shrines have other runes for him… maybe one of them could be something that grants him the ability to get down from the plateau. So, even if the thought of dealing with that again makes him a little uneasy, he knows he has to man up. He’s not going to save anyone if he’s too scared to even face dead guys trying to help him.

“You could probably see them all from the top of that tower you raised,” Inko suggests helpfully. “Your Sheikah Slate should also have a scope feature that will let you mark the shrines on your map from far away.”

“Really?” He hasn’t even found that feature. It’s not his most pressing issue though, because he finds himself looking dubiously at the tower in the near distance, ahead of them. He sighs. “Man, I’m not looking forward to climbing all the way up there. Down was hard enough.”

Inko chuckles agreeably, clearly understanding of his plight. “Your slate has something for that, too. To help you travel places faster.”

“You mean the map?” he asks, brow furrowing. He guesses that would make sense; having a map that moves with you and shows you exactly where you’re facing in relation to your destination probably speeds things up a lot more than using a regular map and constantly having to orient yourself.

“Oh, you know about the fast travel on the map already?” Inko asks, sounding pleasantly surprised, and Eijiro blinks. The shrine had said something about a fast travel gate, right?

“Um… no?” he answers honestly. “Wait, how do you know all this about my slate? I thought you said you didn’t know a lot about Sheikah stuff?”

An amused huff escaping her, Inko gives him a chiding look. “Sheikah Slates were around one hundred years ago, young man. I may not know much about Sheikah buildings or how they all work, but your slate is another matter entirely. I’ve heard quite a bit about what they’re supposed to be able to do. Now, pull out your map.”

“Oh.” He does as she says, but as he’s bringing up the map he can’t help but furrow his brow as he realizes her wording. She made it sound like she was around one hundred years ago. But she still doesn’t look old enough for that—unless she was, like, a baby, and aged really well, and even then, a baby couldn’t work a Sheikah Slate. Probably.

“All right,” she begins, moving beside him to peer at the map with him. He notes with some interest that the emblem for the shrine where they stand is no longer orange on the map, but blue like the other emblems. “So if you tap on the tower on the map, it should let you move there quickly.”

He does as she directs, watching as a message appears on the screen, bearing two words, each separated and outlined: ‘Travel’ and ‘Cancel’. “Like this?” he asks, finger already moving unthinkingly to tap the word travel.

Before Inko can answer, Eijiro is ripped violently out of his body.

Describing the sensation of fast travel would probably be impossible. One moment, Eijiro is normal, and the next—it’s like he’s blacked out, except not at all because he can still think and panic, but he can’t feel his body, like at all. Can’t keep track of any part of himself. He feels so disjointed, unable to gain any sense of equilibrium or awareness of his surroundings or the orientation of his own limbs, and the whole while he feels like he’s hurtling through the air at horrifying speeds.

And none of that comes close to describing the discordant sensation of all of his senses reassembling themselves all out of order, as he’s placed on the circular symbol on the top of Great Plateau Tower—placed gently, but that’s too little too late.

The instant his feet hit the surface, Eijiro topples over, and it’s all he can do to scramble to the edge of the tower before he’s emptying what’s left of his lunch over the side. Oh, gods. That was the most jarring experience of his life. That was so bad. What the fuck.

Pressing his forehead to the tan stone that ridges the edge of the tower, Eijiro groans, wind whipping his hair all around his face.

“I’m never doing that again,” he swears under his breath to himself, voice thick and arms wrapped around his stomach. He fucking means it, too. That was godsdamned awful.

It takes more time than he’d like to admit to compose himself after that, but once he’s finally pulled himself to his feet he can at least say that the scope feature is way easier to find and use than it could have been. There’s tons of shrines, it turns out—he can make out so many from up here, but most of them are well out of his reach, until he can get off of the plateau. It’s not even a full minute before he has the three shrines Inko had told him about marked down on his map, with glowing beacons that appear on the scope when he moves it over them.

One of them, he notes eagerly, is easily reachable, too; not far at all where it sits surrounded by ruins.

It’s just… he can’t help but despair, just a little, because now begins the process of climbing all the way back down. After the worst ascent of his life. Again.

#kiribaku #bakushima #krbk #bkshm #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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mydarlingklaus · 4 years

Text

The Apology

Part 3 of the angsty “The Merge” arc is now updated! Highly anticipated reunion between Klaus and Lizzie. So glad you all have been enjoying these drabbles! Thank you for leaving all your reviews on my ff account, I appreciate it! You can find part 1 here and part 2 here! Enjoy :)

WARNING: Angst galore!

**********************************************************

New Orleans, 2:45 AM

Klaus' elbows rested on the lengthy solid wood dining table as his interlocked fingers covered his trembling mouth and flared nostrils—eyes practically burning a hole through Lizzie's forehead who was sitting across the other side. Carefully watching as she ate the grilled cheese sandwich he prepared for her—raising children forced him to learn his way around the kitchen. After Klaus paid the cab driver and compelled him to forget arriving here and picking anyone up in the last two hours, he was too enraged to speak to Lizzie when she eventually brought her luggage inside. Figured making her a meal would ease his mind and rationalize his thoughts—it did not.

As she settled in Klaus called Alaric to inform him about Lizzie's whereabouts—of course Caroline was his first option but he was still feeling petty. The insufferable human speaking over him was irritating, especially when realizing they contacted each other just a few seconds apart. Josie and Hope were both heavily interrogated by Caroline and Alaric. Hope was clueless but eventually they were able to pull the truth out of Josie. The news broke Klaus' heart all over again, but he reassured Alaric that Lizzie was safe in New Orleans and would call back after talking with her first.

Her bites were small, awkwardly shifting her attention down at the plate and up at the man with dagger eyes. One cheek resembled a chipmunk's as she prolonged each chew in the hopes that Klaus would be the first to break the dead silence—no such luck. She knew Klaus was pissed, which was unusual towards her because he had never genuinely been upset with her in the past.

She gulped the food down her throat with a dramatic swallow before placing the remainder of the sandwich on the porcelain plate. Using the napkin on her lap to rid her mouth of crumbs, subtly clearing her throat.

"Um, thanks for the food by the way. I was starving." Lizzie extended her gratitude with a soft smile that fell when Klaus did not reciprocate.

The silent treatment was growing tiresome, along with Lizzie's patience.

"Did you call my mom?"

His stomach clenched at the reference, but he finally spoke. "I called your father, actually, at the exact same time he called me."

"Are you two wonder twins or something?" She half joked, but Klaus obviously was not amused causing her to clear her throat. "So this means they already knew I was here. Well Josie certainly knows how to keep a secret huh." She rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky she said something." Klaus blurted. "Everyone was worried about you, I was worried about you."

"And like I already told you, I'm fine. I made it here unharmed didn't I? You don't have to keep treating me like a child—"

"You are a child, Lizzie." Klaus' tone low and dark—dropping his hands onto the table but eyes of fury never leaving hers. "You're a beautiful and naive 17 year old girl who has lived in the bubble of a small town her whole life, and despite thinking you know everything about the dangers of the world, you don't."

"Klaus—"

"Anything could have happened to you, anything, do you understand?" His glare deepened.

She groaned while rolling her eyes. "Yes, yes I get that but—"

"There are no 'buts'!" He slammed his hand on table,frightening the teenage girl. "And obviously you don't get it otherwise you wouldn't have done something so...so selfish and irresponsible! How many times do I have to explain to you girls, just because you're a powerful witch in Mystic Falls does not make you invincible to the real world. Evil comes in all shapes and forms, you have no idea what to look for. People in this city know who you are and how important you are to me. Why do you think I'm so protective over you all whenever you visit? What if someone recognized you wandering this hectic city alone at this hour, with some vendetta thinking they have something to prove by..."

He wiped his hand over his face exasperatedly, inhaling and exhaling as he regrouped, hating when his mind wandered to the darkest of places. Since Caroline became a permanent part of his life Klaus not a day went by he wasn't terrified for her safety, even more with the twins. The nightmares he never told her about of his deepest fears. He's had to protect Hope her entire life from the dark forces insistent on taking her away from him, now his family was expanding and felt helpless to stop life from happening to them. They inherited a thousand years worth of enemies and he couldn't be there for all of them at once. Seeing Lizzie, alone, on his doorsteps was among the most haunting images he's ever seen.

The witch rubbed her lips together, blinking away the sheen covering her blue eyes for a better visual of his disgruntled expression. Klaus wasn't simply upset, he was scared—clear as day on his face. Klaus has always been overprotective since they were kids and barely knew each other. Sometimes he was extreme: like not allowing her and Sebastian to go on unsupervised dates, or her having to text him her every move if she went on a trip without him, or one of his hybrids watching over at her football games when Klaus was unable to attend. It was behavior she grew accustomed to, fighting that is who he is. She underestimated how triggered he would be about her traveling on her own—expected some fleeting harsh words but his silence hurt more. Never did she mean to harm or scare him in any way.

Placing her hands out in front of her on the table, Lizzie picked at the fabric on the sleeves of her sweater.

"I'm sorry, okay. I never meant to freak you out. I just thought...I thought you'd be happy to see me." She said defeated.

Klaus' eyebrows furrowed, offended she would think otherwise. "Of course I'm happy to see you. I'm always happy to see you, Lizzie you know that. But you can't do reckless things like this and expect me not to, 'freak out', as you say." The tension slightly dissipating with his soft smirk. "I always worry, every bloody day about you girls when you're together, never even entertaining you all being apart. You mean...everything to me, do you understand?"

Lizzie understandably nodded as Klaus left his seat to walk over to her. Pulling out the chair beside her he sat down, with an expression ranging from relieved and anxious on his face. His hand reached out to hold hers on the table—giving them both much needed comfort.

"However, running away from home without warning is not an excuse. There are more pressing matters we need to discuss now that you're safe and well like, how did you acquire a plane ticket so last minute in the first place. How did you know I was here?"

The young witch swallowed audibly, squeezing his hand.

"Um, I sorta, well definitely, called Uncle Kol and told him I was running away and needed to see you. He didn't want to say anything at first but after much precision he finally told me you were in New Orleans and bought a ticket for me."

"HE WHAT?!" Klaus' eyes bulged and fist balled as he let her hand go.

As if the situation could not be worse—of course Klaus' delinquent of a baby brother was involved!

Lizzie winced, leaning back against her chair. "This is the reason I was holding off telling you..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How dare he...and he knew I would never allow it. I am going to kill him, violently, and you be sure to tell him so during your next chat." He huffed. "Why were you running away anyways?"

"Same reason you did." She answered, making Klaus pause.

His glare and jaw softened as the realization settled in.

"You know..."

She nodded again, with shifty eyes and a blank face.

"And Josie?"

"Of course I told her. She's my sister. There's enough lies running around the boarding school and this effects both of us, remember?"

He knew, eventually, the twins would have to find out but didn't feel any better with them knowing before he had time to process it himself. How was he to console them about a matter he could barely grasp? The time away from Mystic Falls—from Caroline—did little to clear his mind because every second he thought about it the anger resurfaced.

Klaus let out a deep exhale scooting his chair closer to her and rubbing his hands together.

"Do you, um...do you want to talk about it?" He asked concerned.

She scoffed while crossing her arms. "About the fact that in a few years I'm either going to die or be forced to murder my sister, and my parents have been lying to me about it my whole life? Thanks but no thanks."

"We're going to have to talk about this eventually." He tried to reason with her but her refusal was as stubborn as a brick.

"Then I'll wait for eventually." She decided with a shrug.

"Lizzie—"

"I'm tired." She yawned covering her mouth. "It's been a long day and I can barely keep my eyes open so, can I just go to my room now please?"

- Say no, say no.

Klaus was such a weakling when it came to his daughters, specifically Lizzie. Her big blue eyes and pouty lip held so much innocence she reminded him of the little girl he once knew.

It has been a long night, for both of them. They could always talk in the morning when they're both refreshed and willing. Quite frankly Klaus wasn't too jazzed about discussing the matter further tonight either—as long as Lizzie knew it was something to discuss, soon.

Reluctantly, Klaus bit his tongue and conceded with an affirmative nod.

The young witch grinned, widely, jumping out her chair eagerly and picking up her plate.

"I'll dispose of it. Get some sleep." Klaus insisted with a weak smile.

She could see it on his face how badly this was eating at him, maybe more than her. But her mind and body were drained—from the devastating information of her fate to hitching a last minute solo trip to New Orleans. Last thing she wanted was more talking, even from Klaus—enough talking.

Placing the plate down, she muttered a low 'thank you' before walking towards the staircase and leaving Klaus alone with his conflicted thoughts.

**************************************************************

9:10 AM

Breakfast in the Mikaelson manner was, awkward.

They all sat at the food-filled dining table together—Elijah and Hayley slowly sipped on coffee, Freya and Lizzie fawned over orange juice while Klaus nursed an alcoholic drink. Elijah discreetly tried to talk to talk to his brother about Lizzie's sudden arrival but Klaus didn't budge, nor did anyone outside of their immediate family need to know about this before they could tackle it themselves. Attempts at conversation were made in between fruit and pastry platters, but the trio were worried about stepping on anyone's toes which made everything more awkward. Klaus' irritability was written on his face, even for so early in the morning. The hybrid was running on two hours of sleep, barely capable of catching any slumber after Lizzie resides in her room for the night. He sat outside her door for about an hour before retreating downstairs to his study. He tried everything to keep his mind occupied: reading, sketching, brainstorming strategies for the next faction meeting but nothing worked.

Afraid if he closed his eyes he'd have another haunting nightmare; with Lizzie as the starring role.

Even reaching out to Caroline crossed his mind, once or twice. After finally turning his cellphone back on he played her voicemail over, and over again until it brought boredom—it never did. He missed her voice, the way she rambled when nervous and her smile that he could hear through the phone.

You give me comfort, and I could really use some of that right now.

So did he.

I miss you.

I'm sorry.

I need you.

He had to turn his phone off again just to fight the temptation. The tears already glossing his eyeballs as he contemplated throwing the bloody contraption in the lit fireplace. He hated feeling conflicted.

Despite how much he loved and missed her, nothing about the merge was simple nor fixable yet she kept it from him for years. Whatever her intentions Klaus was incapable of reasoning right now—not to mention the teenage runaway who sparked his blood just as much.

When his two siblings and Hayley finished their meals and left the mansion for an 'outing', he was left alone at the table with the stubborn teenager who appeared just as displeased.

"It's a bit early for bourbon, don't you think?" She sassed, flipping her blonde hair to the side while jamming her fork into a chocolate chip waffle.

Klaus knew those were her favorite.

"Let's just say, I've earned it." He raised a glass before downing the liquor in his throat then slamming it down on the table. "Are you enjoying breakfast?"

She nodded gleefully, pushing the empty fruit bowl away as the servant came around to dispose of dishes.

"You always have the best food, especially the waffles!" Lizzie praised before scarfing another piece into her mouth.

"I'm glad." He rewarded her with a soft grin, gesturing to the servant to scurry away until it was just him and his step-daughter. "Not to put a damper on a good morning but sweetheart, we really need to talk—"

"We should go into the Quarter today." Lizzie proposed.

His forehead creased and eyebrows pulled together at her blatant disregard for his request.

"What are you talking about?"

"Hayley...Auntie Hayley?" She raised a curious brow. "I'm still not really sure what I'm supposed to call her but, I overheard her talking about meetings you have coming up. I could totally audit some of them. I've been told I'm quite the stellar listener." She suggested, making Klaus more puzzled.

He sighed. "Lizzie—"

"Or," the smirking blonde witch rose from her chair, "we can ditch boring responsibilities and turn it into a fun day trip. Just me and you like old times. We can get some lunch at that Cajun restaurant you introduced me to on the last visit, before going to Jackson Square. I could really use a new painting for my room—"

"Lizzie stop." Klaus abruptly demanded, now standing at her level with an equally stern look.

The young girl's stretched smile deflated to a withdrawn frown. Her heart pounding cranky in her chest and her body went numb—unable to feel the over-pour of emotions hanging by a thread.

Cautiously, Klaus walked towards her and anxiously licking his reddened lips until he was across the room staring before her.

His loomed over her small figure intimidatingly, focusing his attention on her while hers was directed at their feet.

"I know you've been through quite a bit in the past 24 hours, more than anyone your age should endure." Klaus reasoned, reaching out to grab her shoulders comfortingly. "This is scary and surely you must have so many questions but we can't pretend this merge isn't real. We can't pretend it isn't happening because it is and we need to deal with how to move forward."

The girl laughed. "You mean like how my mom and dad 'dealt with it' by lying to me for the past 17 years? About how I'm destined to partake in a fatal duel of survival against my own twin sister?" She spat, looking up to expose her tearful eyes. "Or how you 'dealt with it' by running away from Mystic Falls the first chance you got instead of, I don't know, staying?!"

Klaus was perplexed as Lizzie wiggled out his grasp angrily and took a step back. Her cheeks a fiery red and small hands balled into even smaller fists. She was shaking but Klaus knew better than to approach her right now.

"Three days in your little blissful New Orleans bubble and just forgot about your family huh? You don't write, you don't call. What, you're allowed leave the problem like it doesn't exist but I can't?"

Her anger was manifesting, he could feel it.

He swallowed audibly. "That-that's more complicated—"

She screamed—more like a sharp screech like nails on a chalkboard—stunning Klaus. Her hands pulled at her hair unruly.

"Why, why is everything so damn complicated with this family! Complicated this or complicated that." She threw her hands up. "Why is that always the excuse used for none of us taking responsibility for the messed up things we do? No it's not complicated, it's actually simple. Just admit it, Klaus. Be the good man you want us to think you are...and admit it."

"You're upset, I understand—"

"Stop telling me what I am!" She groaned. "Or how I feel. I'm so tired of everyone doing that. You never did before. Just...just admit it..."

Klaus' own body began to tremble, but not out of anger.

"Admit what?" He asked warily.

"You left me, Klaus you left me!"

Her screams now accompanied with her thrashing the wooden cabinets of the dining room. The glass shield, along with the multiple place settings, now a scattered pile of pieces on the carpet. Telepathically knocking over every chair until the legs individually broke off, and shattering the lights above until they blacked out

Klaus' mouth opened and closed, completely astonished at her horrifically violent actions.

"Bloody hell!" He yelled, tugging at his hair. "Lizzie, what in the—"

"You said I could always depend on you except, when I actually needed you!" Throwing another plate into the wall.

He visibly swallowed. "Lizzie..."

"Don't come near me!" The witch sharply commanded when Klaus attempted to step forward, snatching a knife off the table in a haste.

His undead heart dropped into the pit of his stomach and face drained of color. The lump bobbed in his throat, wondering how they got here and how quickly could he deescalate the situation before venturing off to worse case scenarios. If he lunged at her there would be no chance.

Seeing no other option, he stayed in place holding his hands up to demonstrate his surrender but eyes never leaving the weapon in her small hand.

"Sweetheart, please..."

"You—you were the only person I wanted to talk to about this. Not Hope, not even Josie but you!" She exclaimed through clenched teeth, waving the sharp object aimlessly. "I just found out the most devastating news anyone could ever hear for their future. Do you know how that feels, to have your life taken from you like that, hm? I was the most terrified and angry I've ever been, and so confused. I needed you but—but you weren't there." Her sobs uncontrollable as she shook her head side to side frantically, the knife still in one hand—blade facing away—as she brought both up to cover her ears. Eyes pinched shut and face a deep cherry red.

Klaus stayed silent, not wanting to trigger her any more than she already was and cause more damage.

"You weren't there. I cried out for you, called your phone religiously all three days...but you never answered. You just left, without even saying goodbye. You left me alone. You didn't protect me..."

Correction: this was the most haunting image he's ever seen.

He stood there like a deer in headlights and an agonizing ache in his core.

The emotional thread finally snapped, and there was no saving from the rapture. When Lizzie wasn't scratching at her face and hair, she was throwing more furniture in sight and belted louder cries before helplessly falling to the ground—knees hitting first.

You didn't protect me...

Klaus experienced Lizzie's episodes before, recalling their intimate conversations where she confessed the amount of times she contemplated taking her own life. The dark thoughts she never went through with, but nonetheless scared herself to even let her mind go there in the first place. Klaus never told Caroline about the things Lizzie confided in him about, and he never would, but seeing her with that knife was cutting too close to home for his comfort.

He thought he was capable of handling her emotional mishaps, but this was a blend of pent up betrayal and fear that he had zero control over. So blinded by his own turmoil all he cared about was leaving the situation as quickly as possible, barely giving a thought to the people he was leaving behind. Not thinking, if he was going through he ringer like this imagine the twins. Knowing how Lizzie felt—how she's been feeling—and him being among the ones that hurt her made him physically sick.

What a coward, he thought, to abandon his family when they needed him the most? Caring for his then was all he cared about now, but already proving he was still capable of being a selfish prick with them. Failing at the only job that mattered—being a good father.

No more.

Rushing to her side, Klaus kicked the knife out her hand first then crouched down to cradle his incredibly strong but struggling daughter in his protective arms. Pulling her against him until she felt nothing but his warmth. Her hands stayed on her side, not embracing him fully, but Klaus was just relieved that she was allowing the hug at all.

Her tears staining his gray Henley as she buried her face into his calming embrace—the whimpers and screams muffled by his shield. Klaus caressed her hair and kissed the top of her head repeatedly, whispering reassuring words that she was safe as her cries continued to unfold. He wanted her to know she could be as vulnerable as needed, no holding back or saving face for anyone. For 1000 years Klaus suppressed his emotions to appear 'strong' and 'unbothered' but it only crippled him as the years went on—until Caroline—and even then took longer to understand what those feelings meant.

The huffing and puffing didn't let up the longer he held her—chest heavy and heaving.

Klaus gasped at the feel of her wrapping her arms around his waist, squeezing. Her death grip pierced into the fabric of his shirt as she healed onto him for dear life, never wanting to let him go. Each passing thought about the merge made her cry more.

Lizzie didn't plan on the outburst, not realizing how much she was hurting until the words began to spew. Her lungs felt shot , throat swollen and dry from the heavy cries and overflowing tears. Deep down this was the reason for her insistent denial. Discussing the matter meant it was real, and she wanted to hold onto the bliss a little while longer with the person who has made her feel the safest.

A few moments went by before Lizzie began to feel lighter and her breathing began to balance out. Her cries subtly ceased as she pulled her face from his chest. Lips plump and parted while observing the disaster she created—broken plates and glasses shattered on the floor and against the walls. Cabinet of silverware broken and chandelier barely hanging on. The shame began to overtake for not controlling her temper after working so hard towards not being an emotional wreck. As if all the progress she made was suddenly irrelevant. Hanging her head low until Klaus cradled her face in his hands, surprised to see his sunken reddened eyes matched hers.

In all the years of knowing Klaus she's never seen him cry, or any heavy emotion. He's been sad, sure, but nothing compared the bloodshot gaze directed towards her.

- Either he is the quietest crier to ever exist or I'm more self absorbed than I thought.

His thumbs swept across the skin underneath her eyes to rid them of the lingering tears, rewarding her with a sweet grin from his shaky lips. Even he was thrown off by his own wave of tears but...Klaus had a short list of people he actually cared about and seeing any of them in distress rubbed off on him.

Felt like 20 pounds had been lifted off both their chests, despite what brought them to this point.

"I'm sorry." Klaus said, his voice raspy.

Lizzie's sucked in her bottom lip, nodding her head.

"Klaus..."

He sniffled, giving her his full attention.

"I—Klaus—I don't want to die." She stammered, her throat beginning to tighten.

The hybrid nearly lost it, again. His eyes widened and mouth agape.

I don't want to die.

One of the first sentences Caroline ever said to him.

When he knew her strength before even knowing her—the baby vampire with the will to live. Who did not beg the powerful hybrid towering over her limp body for mercy, the way she didn't beg but decided to fight. How he could so easily see the same spark in their daughter's eyes...even if she didn't notice it herself.

Wiping away the remaining tears from her pretty face, Klaus nodded his head.

"I know."

Was all he could say, for now. Not even the miraculous Klaus Mikaelson wanted to give her false hope.

The exhaustion weighed down her eyes but she kept them open best she could, still holding onto Klaus but not as aggressively. Coming down from the emotional high took a greater toll than anticipated and felt if she tried to stand she'd fall over.

They were both mentally drained after confronting the realization of their mutual fear: losing each other.

Kissing her on the head again, Klaus lingered there a little longer and closed his eyes just to appreciate her—very much alive—presence. He didn't even have it in himself to be upset anymore, not even after the stunt she just pulled.

"Klaus, um, I said some bad things to my mom. Actually they were pretty horrific, and I don't think I can take any of that back." She sniffled staring up at him with regret. "How am I supposed to face her again? There's no way she'll forgive me."

He smiled. "There's no one with more forgiving bones in their body than your mother. The amount of chances she's given to people who don't deserve it, how many she's given me...you're her her daughter and she loves you more than life. There's nothing you can do that's unforgivable in her eyes."

"But—"

"You underestimate a mother's love, once upon a time so did I." The corner of his lips quirked up. "She understands you were angry and won't hold any of it against you, I assure you, though she might have some words about you running away which is valid."

They softly laughed. Lizzie bit down on her bottom lip.

"Do you still love her, my mom? Even after everything?" She timidly asked.

"Of course I do." He answered effortlessly, clearly making the girl happy.

"Good. Are you ready to forgive her?"

Klaus hummed, pressing his lips together with a sigh through his nose.

"You must be tired. Come on, I'll walk you up to your room." He said instead.

Lizzie decided not to pester further, mainly because she was in the same boat on how she felt towards Caroline or Alaric.

She allowed Klaus to help her onto her feet, making sure she was unharmed and stable enough to walk on her own. Granting him a sad but reassuring smile which was more than enough as he led her upstairs to lay down.

***************************************************

Mystic Falls, 9:30 PM

"Caroline, I never said I'm blaming you." Alaric tried convincing the pacing baby vampire.

"Our daughter ran away from home after talking with me, don't lie to me, because if the roles were reversed I would blame you." She claimed, still walking back and forth in their kitchen.

"It's not like we're running around like headless chickens anymore. We know exactly where Lizzie is and we know she's safe. Klaus would never let anything happen to her."

He was right, she knew he was but...that void remained open.

No word from Klaus or Lizzie all day, not even a simple text of when she planned to return. As badly as Caroline wanted to harass them, she rationalized—or rather Alaric talked her down—and agreed to give Lizzie time to cool off first. She was rightfully upset with both of them and needed space. The saving grace was knowing where she was and that she was safe, and also being aware of Klaus' well being. Why wasn't New Orleans her first guess?

"You need to calm down, here." Alaric calmly offered her a drink.

Caroline crossed her arms, turning her head to face him not realizing he was now beside her with two glasses of scotch in his hands. She reluctantly grabbed one before leaning against the countertop, biting her bottom lip and shaking her head.

"She hates me, they both do." Sipping on the bitter drink.

"They do not hate you—"

"You didn't see how they looked at me, or hear the things Lizzie said to me, and I deserved it."

"No." Alaric walked over to where she stood. 'This is on both of us. Mainly me because I knew even before you did. We both made an agreement about not telling the girls about the merge, we chose to handle it on our own."

"Then why I am I the only one feeling guilty?" She asked before downing the rest of her drink.

Alaric sighed. "I do feel guilty, Caroline, everyday I felt it too. You're a good person and exceptional mother and that comes with a heavy heart. You care about the people you love even if it means you get the short end of the stick. I really am sorry Klaus found out the way he did. It was never my plan to be the one to tell him."

"I know." She said.

"But it doesn't make up for anything." He realized. " I do hope Lizzie and Klaus return soon so we can finally talk as a family."

Caroline's eyebrows shot up amusedly. "Did I hear that incorrectly or did you just refer to Klaus as part of the family?"

He chuckled. "As much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I wish otherwise, you love him and so do our girls. Our clan keeps expanding and I would never be able to explain how twisted all of it is. But my personal feelings aside, he's your family which means to an extent he matters to me as well."

Not that Alaric's opinions on her relationship with Klaus ever made a difference, but this was a permanent arrangement. Caroline knew Alaric and Klaus were not friends and probably never would be, but at least being cordial and accepting of one another meant even more.

She weakly smiled, resting her hand over his on the kitchen counter. "Thank you."

Alaric returned the smile and the ringing of the doorbell immediately followed.

The two looked at each other confusingly, knowing neither were expecting any guests for the night and Josie and Hope were in their respective rooms.

Caroline waited as Alaric walked out the kitchen and towards the front door, too noses to stay in place she poked her head out to sneak a glance. The door was opened but Alaric's body was blocking who he was standing in front of him.

Moving closer, she noticed four pairs of feet and one were covered by black combat boots and the other was embraced by Alaric wearing sparkling white high top converse tennis shoes.

- They're here?!

Caroline was flashing forward before her mind could fully process her own speculations, which were proven to be true. Realizing her gasp louder than anticipated when it made all three of them turn to face her.

Instantly making eye contact with Lizzie—blue on blue—saddled and remorseful.

The young witch left Alaric's side and timidly approached her mother, twisting her lips with her hands anxiously grabbing at the straps of her backpack.

"Hi mom..."

Caroline exhaled a breath she unintentionally held before reaching out and pulling her daughter into her arms for the momma bear hug they both needed.

Lizzie felt overwhelmed with the affection, from both her mother and Klaus, but accepted wholeheartedly. Flaunting a close-lipped smile as she hugged her back just as intensely.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, do you understand me?" Caroline softly demanded into her blonde curls.

Lizzie frantically nodded and hugged tighter, underestimating how much she craved her mother's touch. With a final sniffle, Caroline finally released her with a lingering smile, kissing her on the forehead before stepping to the side so she could walk inside with Alaric—leaving her alone with the hybrid. Suddenly the nerves settled in with the blank look he flashed towards her.

Three and a half days since she last seen him and nothing changed besides her amplified feelings.

Klaus remained outside on the cold porch while she was inside standing between the threshold of the door. Caroline hated not knowing where she stood with people, and Klaus' unreadable face did nothing to subside that annoyance.

- Maybe he's still upset?

She wanted to run into his arms the moment they're alone but, what if things have changed for the worst? What if he brought Lizzie back but is planning on leaving Caroline? What if he didn't forgive her?

She nervously gulped when he finally stepped more into the light—as handsome and imperfect as ever—his straight lips curved into a full smirk.

"Hello love."

Caroline's lips struggled to form a smile in between her relieved blubbering. She covered her mouth, embarrassed by her reaction from a simple 'hello'.

"You came back..." She managed to say, tucking one of her curls behind her ear.

Klaus' smirk only widened, decreasing the gap between them until they were only inches apart with him still standing outside the door.

Having him so close but so far was the most cruel act he could do to her. Those three and a half days felt like an eternity. Where she realized her life was no longer complete without him. He had taken her—body and soul—all those years ago when he swooshed into her life and she swore a long time ago she was done denying it.

Distance was not an option anymore. She missed him, god did she miss him, and his dimpled smile and masculine presence. If he wanted to stop her he could but all she cared about was embracing the return of the man she loved.

In a blink of an eye Caroline's body was colliding with his, face buried into his shoulder and arms securely around his neck as the tears already began streaming down her cheeks.

Affection, comfort and nurture were new concepts for Klaus who unfortunately had no experience of his own growing up. Not think he would ever be granted the opportunity to extend those feelings to others, let alone have people in his life he cared about enough.

Initially taken aback, Klaus completed the hug by encircling her waist and pulling her against his firm chest subconsciously. Inhaling her warm scent, hair and presence as if for the first time. He could feel her tears staining his shirt but it didn't matter, nothing mattered besides the woman in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." She pleaded between broken sobs as she gripped onto him tighter.

"Shh, love...it's all right." He tried reassuring her, rubbing her back up and down soothingly but he felt her shaking her head.

"No, it's not." Her voice unwavering as she pulled away enough to look up at him.

Her eyes puffy and tired compared to their usual vibrant form—breaking Klaus' cold dead heart more than he thought was possible.

Klaus let out a low breath as her eyes bored deeply into his, demonstrating the severity of her plea, she continued to explain herself.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, "I'm sorry for not telling you from the beginning. It was never my intent to keep anything from you."

"I know—"

"Please, let me finish." Caroline interrupted and Klaus obliged. "First of all, the twins are your daughters as much as mine and I'm sorry I ever made you feel otherwise. For someone who is constantly being reminded they're biologically not mine and having to deal with judgmental gossipers, I should have known better. I wasn't thinking. Even if it wasn't my intent to hurt you I still said it, and I'm sorry."

Klaus understandably nodded. It was as if she knew that particular section of their fight cut the deepest.

"Secondly, I was scared. I've been scared about the merge since Alaric first explained it to me and when I get scared I tend to turn people away. It's what I did to you, and them. I'm so used to making all the decisions regarding all of this because it was the only bit of control I had. Then circumstances changed when you came back into my life the way you did. I never expected us to become what we are, or you loving the girls as much as you do but there's nothing I wanted more. Our relationship is means everything to me. I'm so grateful to have you in our lives. I love you so much and I'm so—"

His lips molded against hers before she could muster another apology, desperate and commanding as her mouth opened to him from the pressure—succumbing to the warmth of his wet tongue. Pulling at each other mercilessly.

There was obviously more they needed to discuss—starting with proper discipline for their delinquent child—and solutions to theorize but neither of them could find it in themselves to care right now. After being away from each other for what felt like a lifetime the longing for one another only increased.

Caroline raised her fingers into his hair, standing on her tippy toes while lightly tugging at the light curls on the back of his neck. Venturing up to trace his scalp as she pressed his face more against hers—if that was even possible. Needing him, inhaling all he had to give. His talented tongue drew out soft whimpers from her lips before aiming for another passionate kiss to explain without words how much he missed her too.

His determined hands traveled from her face to squeezing her sides and caressing her silk covered back, bringing her closer in the most demanding but loving way. Tasting the teardrops that fell down her rosy cheeks and combined with their interlocked lips. Klaus almost felt ridiculous fore leaving in the first place, no matter how angry he was, but the distance made his love for her grow stronger. Rationalizing his thoughts instead of lashing out—progress.

She was more than apologetic, he felt it with through every kiss and tug. His anger was warranted, but deep down he knew Caroline was coming from a good place because he knew her heart. Nothing about this was easy on anyone and that was the reality they had to face, as a family. Being with Caroline now, holding and kissing her on the porch where any Mystic Falls resident or student could see, was the insight he needed. All he wanted to do was take her inside and never leave their bed. To shower her with love and affection to make up for lost time—forget about the bad shit just for a night.

Following that train of thought, Klaus' hands now rested dangerously on her hips, suggestively, their lips still moving together in perfect rhythm as he blindly lead them backwards and closing the door behind them with his foot.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #my writing #klaus x caroline #klaroline shippers club #lizzie saltzman-forbes mikaelson

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cinnamoonsworld · 4 years

Text

A Harsh Meal [Fatgum x chubby fem!reader]

Hi everyone! Before continuing the Aizawa's ff, I wanted to give myself a short story about another pro hero I love so much, Fatgum. What is written comes from my personal experiences and from people I know very well, and I hope everyone in life will find a person like Fatgum in their life <3

Happy reading, see you next week for the new chapters of "Two Worlds Collide"!

You can also find me on Ao3!

Words: 2,666

Trigger Warnings: eating disorders, eventual smut

--------------------------------

You and Taishiro have been together for several years. You met during an attack by a villain who had begun to destroy everything that happened to him without any reason, and you were among the civilians that Fatgum had saved. Unlike all the other people, Fatgum was impressed with your smile when you thanked him for protecting you and all the other people.

For days he had dreamed of your smile and your (Y/E/C) eyes, until he saw you one night while he was on patrol and you were lowering the shutter of a store. He took note of the place and its location, and the next morning he showed up inside your little bakery. He was almost breathless to see you in your work uniform, which included a pastel apron and a dress with a wide 50s skirt.

From that day on, Taishiro began to come into the shop every day and you began to become, as time went on, more and more intimate. Sometimes he would come there with two shoulders of his own, Tamaki and Kirishima, and he would never fail to list the whole menu by heart and say how good everything was. You started to make sweets just for him, inspired by his character.

One day he did not come to see you. Initially you did not worry, thinking that he would pass later in the day. When you closed, you went to his agency to ask if anything happened to Fatgum. His secretary informed you that he had been hospitalized following a raid that he and other heroes had carried out that morning.

You got the name of the hospital, and you went straight to the bakery to make her favorite cupcakes, the Oreo's one. You were upset that Taishiro was in a hospital bed alone, without you beside him to lift his spirits.

You rushed to the hospital with a box full of cupcakes. You went to a nurse and showed her the tide of candy you were carrying, and she took you to her room. They were all desperate, because it was from the moment he arrived that all he did was asking for food and that he never stopped being hungry.

"At least, if he asks to eat, it means he’s fine!" You thought feeling a little more relieved.

The nurse let you in the room, and on the bed there was a thin, tall, blond boy who was watching TV and laughing.

You looked at him in a daze, thinking the nurse had taken you to the wrong room.

As Taishiro saw you, his face lit up and he jumped out of bed to hug you. Your doubts passed when you saw him smile: even if he was thinner, that was Fatgum. He almost cried when you showed him the box of cupcakes at the Oreo, and made you promise that at least a couple of them would be saved for Suneater and Red Riot, who were also there.

You went to see him every day with something different to eat, and the nurses were extremely grateful because he was literally draining their kitchen supplies. The longer the days went by, the more he was returning to his giant teddy bear form with which you had known him.

On the last day of recovery, you noticed he was extremely agitated. You were afraid he wasn’t feeling well, and you were going to call the nurse when he came between you and the door and kissed you. It was a long, sweet and exciting kiss. Detaching himself, he looked into your eyes with an expression of pure panic. He was afraid you’d laugh at him or, worse still, that he’d disgust you with his gesture. Instead, surprisingly, you embroider that kiss without hesitation.

From that moment on, you and Taishiro started dating first and then, noticing that it worked and you were both taken by each other, you decided to officially get together. At least three years passed before they decided to move in together. You were both very happy, you were looking forward to cooking for your boyfriend and he was looking forward to coming home to eat what you had prepared for him and to spend time with you. You filled him with food and attention, while he did everything to see you always happy.

Everything was going great until you started having problems with your body. By now you knew that Taishiro, when he used too much strength, dried up and became a sweet and very high muscular boy. He hated being like that, couldn’t work and felt very vulnerable. Needless to say, in that form, it attracted the attention of many girls who were flirting with him shamelessly. It also happened while you were together somewhere, and many times you had heard these girls tell Taishiro to let you lose, because an Adonis like him did not make a good impression to be seen around with "someone like you".

You had never been thin, and you knew it very well. For you your body had never been a problem, and you always liked it the way you are. Taishiro, then, saw you as the representation of a Goddess descended to earth, he found you perfect in everything and everything. He always pointed it out to you, even when you were making love. You were perfect in everything and for everything to him, and he never failed to let you know even with small gestures. Whatever you was wearing, from a tracksuit to a fancy dress, you made him lose his mind.

You began to spend more and more time in front of the mirror, touching your belly or your thighs and finding more and more imperfections. It started out as a few minutes a day until it became an hour or more, and on the worst days you stared in the mirror until you cried because you felt ugly and shapeless. Fat, cellulite or stretch marks: you hated yourself, and you couldn’t find something of yourself that would change your mind.

Even Taishiro had noticed that something was wrong, and he began to notice it when, gradually, you started to eat less and less.

One of the things that made Taishiro one of the happiest men on earth was to share food with you, and he was alarmed to see that you were offering him your leftovers from dinner even though you had eaten only three mouthfuls of what was on the plate.

You started to wear clothes that were getting wider and wider so you could hide your shapes. You were convinced that when you left the house, everyone looked at you and commented on your body. You could feel people’s judgmental looks on you, even though they weren’t even looking at you. When you and Taishiro were out, you were always trying to get as little food as possible. You didn’t want people to judge you for what was on your plate.

Since you started eating less and less, you were always getting tired and in a bad mood. You stopped talking to Taishiro about what was going on at work or what was going on in your head, and sometimes you felt so weak that you didn’t even have the strength to cook. For Taishiro there was no problem, he was more than happy to take away to spend more time with you, but you barely ate something and went to sleep with the excuse that at work had been a hard day and that you wanted to rest.

Finally, you began to think of the worst thing: that Taishiro was only with you because you prepared food for him and that in reality he only felt disgust for you. This little thought slowly began to creep into your head until it became a recurring judgment. You started to really meditate that you were only convenient for food, and you were sure he would run off with a girl much prettier and thinner than you as soon as he had the chance.

Even at work these thoughts did not leave you, and the situation worsened when, a few buildings from your bakery, opened a gym. Every day, in front of the windows, it was a parade of women, young and not, in brilliant physical form and with nothing out of place. They were so happy, so skinny...everything you weren’t, and they’d rub it in your face every single day.

You also stopped eating, and drank only water. Taishiro was increasingly alarmed, you were turning into something that wasn’t you. You started fighting more and more about the food issue, he wanted you to eat but you told him that you were fine and that you had already eaten something at work and so there was no need to stress about these things. He just wanted to help you whatever was going on with you, but you had built a wall between you two.

You didn’t want him to touch you anymore, you thought he was ashamed to go around with you, with a "shapeless being". He deserved a better person, a girl much prettier than you, and that made him look better when they called him to the charity nights.

You were so short of energy, you had trouble getting out of bed. One day, in particular, it seemed to you that even breathing was an inhuman effort. You went to the store early like every morning to start baking. As usual, your mood was under your shoes, and the fight you had the night before with Taishiro certainly didn’t help. The walk you took from your apartment seemed like a mountain hike, even though it was only two blocks away.

You had time to turn on the lab lights that you collapsed suddenly.

Around lunchtime, Taishiro became seriously concerned. Even if you fought a lot, when he wrote to you, you always answered, even if in a cold tone. You didn’t even see the messages that morning, and you didn’t post anything on any social media.

Driven by anxiety, in the early afternoon he went to your shop where he found the half-shutters lowered. When he tried to call you, he clearly heard your phone ring go off, but no one answered. He was getting more and more agitated.

Luckily, when you moved in together, you gave Fatgum a copy of the keys to your club and the lab door in case of need. The lab door was looking at a dead end, and he came in through it.

He had a heart attack when he found you lying on the ground and very pale. He immediately called an ambulance and they rushed you to the hospital. Taishiro was in the waiting room waiting for some news of yours. He was so agitated that he had not touched food and the feeling of hunger, for the first time in his life, had disappeared.

After several hours, finally, they called him inside to talk to the doctor who was taking care of you, and the diagnosis shocked the hero: malnutrition. You were passed out because you hadn’t eaten anything for who knows how long, and in your stomach they had found no trace of food, only water. You pushed your body so far, you couldn’t take it anymore.

The doctor took Taishiro to your room, and his heart stopped again to see you attached to all those tubes so that you could ingest some nutrient so that your body would not collapse again. He sat down next to you, fondling your hand lovingly. He didn’t understand how all this could have happened, and he was afraid of losing you forever.

He fell asleep next to you, and woke up in the middle of the night when he felt a familiar sensation of a kiss on his forehead. He immediately opened his eyes and almost wept with joy at seeing you awake.

"Cupcake..." He whispered with clear eyes. "You don’t know how happy I am to see you awake..."

"Tai..." you answered with a nervous stomach. "I’m sorry...I didn’t want it to end this way..."

"What happened to you, my love?" asked the blond.

You could barely hold back your tears after that question.

"I hate myself." You finally answered without being able to hold back the crying. "I hate myself Taishiro. I’m horrible, I’m fat. Anything about me disgusts me, and I don’t know how you can be with a freak like me. Those girls are right, Tai. You deserve someone better than me, not someone who makes you look bad."

While you were sobbing, Fatgum was really sad and angry at what you thought of yourself. Of all the things he thought about your behavior change, he never imagined it would be something that would make you suffer so much that you would go so far as to refuse food. He didn’t think even remotely that some girls' comments could hurt you so deeply, and he felt terrible that he had always downplayed it and had always just not listened to them. But not you, you listened to them all too well.

"My sweet cupcake." Tai said, wiping tears from your eyes. "Do you remember the first time I kissed you? I felt terribly stupid. I was afraid you’d turn me down because of my looks. I know perfectly well that I am not perfect, and that when I am in my low-form I am very ashamed...and yet you accepted me as I am. You never let me weigh my physical form, both thin and fat..."

"You’re such a wonderful person that I never cared about your body, my teddy bear." You spoke with a slight smile trying to stop crying.

"And the same goes for you, too, (Y/N)." Fatgum said with a kiss on your forehead. "I love you for who you are and for what you give me every day, your little gestures and how you make me feel happy every day. And I don’t care if you’re skinny or fat, I would love you in all forms of this world."

You felt very relieved to hear those words, and at that moment you realized how much unnecessary harm you had done just because your head was telling you. You embraced each other in silence, a silence full of love and meaning.

In the days of your hospitalization, Taishiro came to see you every day and had literally camped in the hospital. When he had a free moment he would come to spend with you and every night, after having left work, he would rush into your hospital room because it was the part of the day that made him exalt like a child in front of a toy store: Having dinner with you while you told each other what happened to you during the day. You started eating again and God, how you missed the taste of food and talk to Tai. You almost forgot about this feeling of happiness, and you almost cried with joy when you ate together. He wouldn’t even go home to sleep, he’d sit next to you in a chair and watch TV together until you fell asleep on each other’s shoulder.

The day you were discharged, when you returned home, all the colleagues from Fatgum’s agency were waiting for you. They too were very concerned about you, and seeing you smiling and strong again made them very happy. They filled you with flowers and gifts, and when the party was over, when everybody left, you and Tai made love, and you didn’t care if the neighborhood heard you or not. You finally came back, and you had to celebrate. He kissed you from head to toe, to show how much love and veneration he felt for every inch of your being, whispering sweet words to you until, exhausted, you fell asleep hugging each other.

It was nice to be back.

#fatgum x reader #fatgum x you #toyomitsu x reader #toyomistu taishirou x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #fatgum #toyomitsu taishiro #taishiro toyomitsu #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

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arlingtonpark · 4 years

Text

Harrow the Ninth Act I Thoughts

This is all your fault, @ghostmartyr. If you hadn’t reblogged what seemed like heavy metal boy band fanart, I wouldn’t be in this hole. And for that, I hate you.

So.

When I first encountered the Locked Tomb online, I couldn’t tell if it was a story about edgy, neogothic, teenaged angst, or something better than that.

Turns out, it’s both.

But in a good way.

I love it. It’s great.

It’s unabashed, it’s thoughtful, it’s entertaining, it’s suspenseful.

Gideon the Ninth is finished, and after starting Harrow the Ninth, I decided to blog about it as I go.

I’ll be doing one post for every act of the book. I hope.

Let’s start with our new main character, Harrow. Newly reborn as a god and one of the only survivors of the last book.

So….

Right now, Harrow’s…

Um.

She’s uh…

-gestures at everything-

She’s fucked.

Fucked, broken, in the shit, started godhood on the wrong side of the bed.

200 babies were killed in the name of birthing her. Her parents died in front of her because of what she did. Death has always seemed to follow her, and she carries the burden of all that death.

Harrow despises her existence and wishes she were dead because of the circumstances of her birth, and yet for that very reason she is committed to living, because if she dies, all those sacrifices would be null.

She takes up the duties of governing the Ninth, she applies herself rigorously to mastering necromancy, and when the opportunity arises to become a lyctor, she jumps at it.

Harrow does this because it’s why all those people had to die. She was birthed to carry the Ninth’s legacy; its traditions and obligations and to some extent its very existence.

The twisted nature of the Ninth and her parents is inseparable from that legacy, so in a sense it was that legacy that led to her infanticidal birth, but regardless, this legacy is all she has. It’s all she was ever meant to have. And so she devoted herself to it.

Now that she’s a lyctor and her house’s future will be guaranteed, but to do it, she had to sacrifice Gideon, whom she loved.

It’s more of the same shit from her perspective: more people dying for her sake. 200 babies die to grant her obscene necromantic talent, her girlfriend dies so she can gain even more power. Harrow doesn’t mean to step on innocent people to get what she wants…but that’s always how it’s turned out for her.

But to add insult to injury, even after all she’s sacrificed, she still didn’t get exactly what she wanted.

Her house will have a future, but she can never return to it. She’s essentially divorced from the only thing that gave her life meaning.

She can never return to her old life; to the extent she saw that as desirable, she can’t have that. Her old life is gone forever.

Something also went wrong with her ascension to godhood. She’s violently sick, mentally unstable, and the powers she should have are…half baked, for lack of a better word.

Nobody said you could get hungover from ascending to godhood. Harrow should sue.

It’s like going in to surgery to remove a tumor and coming out lobotomized.

Is she even immortal?

It all stings of pointlessness. All that effort for nothing.

Worse than that; She lost everything. Her home, her love, her pride and dignity.

Her only purpose in life now is to fight these hell beasts that she’s never heard of before. Happy days ahead, surely.

Oh, and one of the people she’ll have to work with is named Gideon.

Does God hate her?

And then there’s God.

This guy is sus as hell.

He’s gracious and humble. Perpetually calm and soft spoken. Empathetic and understanding. That’s what He’s like in person.

But He’s…maybe the villain? I guess.

God works in mysterious ways, and I have no damn clue what His are, but it’s probably ugly.

Yes, He’s a cordial Dude…but he’s still the God-emperor of a galactic undead empire.

Dude wears a crown made from the bones of dead babies FFS.

Not to be accusatory, but this guy definitely has skeletons in his closet.

-bu-dum-tish-

One of the things that really got my attention while reading this series is how the magic system in this world is depicted. Usually, in fantasy stories, the magic system is depicted as being morally neutral. Good guys use it, bad guys it, but the magic itself just is.

The Locked Tomb Trilogy isn’t like that.

Necromancy is bad. Perverse, even.

All the necromancers are frail and sickly. Practicing it is deleterious on the body. Doing too much too fast with it causes even more pronounced harm. As in, bleeding from your sweat glands.

Necromancy works by manipulating the life force of living beings and, primarily, the death force those being give off when they die.

The forces of nature that necromancy utilizes are (apparently) fundamental to the universe, akin to the laws of nature, but the use of those forces in this way are clearly a perversion.

It’s sort of like a bad tv show, like Sword Art Online. Sure, the things that went into making the show are natural parts of the world, but you just can’t put those things together like that.

John and his empire epitomize that.

All known beings in the universe are fundamentally thalergetic in nature. They are beings who radiate life energy. Except for the planets of the empire. Those planets and the star they orbit are thanergetic in nature.

They literally radiate death. And they are apparently one of a kind in that regard.

John is the first necromancer. John used his newly harnessed powers to “resurrect” multiple planets that had died.

Except he didn’t really resurrect anything, he turned them into an entirely new form of being using his entirely new form of science that uses some kind of mechanism that doesn’t occur naturally.

What I’m getting at here is that everything about John, his power, and his empire is artificial. Man-made. Perhaps even John-made.

We don’t actually know what happened during the Resurrection. What killed off the planets, how John attained his God-like powers, and what life John lived before it.

Oh, yeah, and every planet the empire conquers is systematically killed over generations to fuel their necromancer’s powers.

Every planet God touches literally dies.

One thing I appreciate about this series is how layered the story is.

The Locked Tomb series is a fun, irreverent romp. It’s about allowing the past to rest in peace. It’s also surprisingly political.

The metaphor is pretty blunt: it’s about capitalism. What’s more, the metaphor seems to be from a progressive or maybe even socialist perspective.

Ok, so hear me out on this. This is less fan theory than speculation about the author’s intentions.

The empire is a society built on a system that requires them to move from planet to planet, gradually killing those planets until they have to evacuate and move to a new one.

This process of gradual death takes generations to play out, so apparently they don’t even consider it to be an event that happens.

The heart of this system is necromancy, a perverse science that is ultimately derived from natural phenomena.

This system places the most powerful necromancer atop a literal throne and worships them as God.

God’s disciples are the lyctors, second only to Him in power. They attained that power by a very special process.

The lyctoral process is exploitative. It requires the necromancer to use their cavalier as a sacrifice and to turn their soul into a power source.

The lyctoral process is built around domination. The necromancer, in sacrificing their cavalier, subsumes the cavalier’s soul into their being to gain power.

The lyctoral process is dehumanizing. The cavalier is degraded from a person to a mere battery, but the necromancer is degraded in a way as well. The necromancer can never return to their house, or any of the other houses for that matter. Instead they must fight and die for God in his battle against the Revenant Beasts.

If you’re progressive, this may sound familiar to you.

Relationships of exploitation, domination, and dehumanization. A society built around perversions. That rewards people with talent in those perversions with idolatry. That cold-heartedly and shortsightedly extracts every drop of usable resources from a planet until it is dead, then moves on to the next one.

To a socialist, this may sound a lot like capitalism.

Saying that is already bold enough for me, so I won’t try to argue that it’s a one to one allegory. Necromancy equals the profit motive, lyctors represent the relationship between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat (So I guess that means the non-lyctor necromancers are the petit bourgeoisie) and the empire is humanity.

You could make a case for it, but the hot takes in this post are already pretty spicy, so…

OMG Mercymorn. XD

Mercymorn is my favorite out of the new characters. She’s a bitch.

Snide, rude, assertive, bitchy, and standoffish. No, it’s not that I want her to step on me, I just can’t get enough of her interactions.

I guess in real life she wouldn’t be fun to be around, but as a character in a book, she steals every scene. Her arrogant and bitchy remarks always make me laugh.

My one wish heading in to Act II: that Mercymorn is in charge of Ianthe’s training.

Just so she can kick her ass for not measuring up to her standards.

#locked tomb #locked tomb spoilers #htn #htn spoilers #bury the dead but not your gays

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aw-eather · 4 years

Text

Heather Watches SG1 s7ep17&18: Heroes pt1 and pt2

Watched 23/06/2020

Well here we go friends. I’m torturing myself for the sake of making y’all laugh and also because I have a LOT of feelings about this two parter and NONE of them are good. I can’t be the only one so lets see who else agrees with me!

This is about to get long and very swear word heavy so avert your eyes if you aren’t into that <3 Just letting you know I use some VERY strong language this post. I’m Australian so the word isn’t uncommon for us to use and we use it as a term of endearment in some parts too but I just wanted y’all to know.

This turned into the biggest one I’ve ever done too with 362 dot points... read if you dare

Well here we go

I’m probably gonna cry a lot

I love Saul Rubinek.

I adore him in Warehouse 13

Artie Neilson is like the dad I didn’t have

but fuck me if I don’t hate Emmet

This WHOLE two parter is pointless and just serves to kill of a character that didn’t need to die

Anyway getting into that a little early on

Fuck the defence department.

You haven’t spoken to Space Dad of Texas

The most unorthodox

JFC this ass hole

I’m calling him AssHole for the rest of the episodes

Of course they don’t want them here, he’s a dick

Hammond’s little smile

This whole episode feels sombre and sad

and we’re three minutes into the two parter

this whole thing is about to fall to shit

credits

i’m not even excited for the credits

because I’m hurting

last time I watched this I’d started crying the second it started so I’m doing much better this time

I love watching them go up the ramp to the gate

its nice

end credits

NO ONE ASKED YOU SAUL

that was a bomb

but NO ONE ASKED YOU

And Teryl Rothery as Dr. Janet Fraiser

FUCK OFF

He doesn’t have time

He’s busy

Lol coughed on his hand and went to shake Saul’s hand

dead

memos... as if Jack’s ever read one of those

Sam is so awkward

I love her so much

It is nothing short of extraodinary

she is nothing short of extraordinary and we know this

but again

NOT ONE ASKED YOU ASSHOLE

and grand empress of scifi

grand empress of my heart

goof ball

the list goes on

god she’s so awkward’

but so adorable

Thats fine

please annoy Daniel

What was it like to be dead ffs

TRANSCENDED? DID YOU PAY ANY ATTENTION???

What else is he supposed to say?! He DIED he doesn’t REMEMBER ANYTHING

Daniel’s right

Its fascinating

LOL DANIEL YOU STUPID IDIOT THATS HILARIOUS

I love Daniel when he’s pissing off people i hate

Bill <3

Personal microwave oven... nice

And its only taken you 7 years

so glad you did though

Odd that he was on fire

but we never see that happen any other times

“He does this all the time” poor Siler

Sam looks so happy when talking technobable and about her doohickeys.

I adore her

And honestly all that shits fascinating

still 32 minutes left...

honestly if it weren’t for me talking about Janets death, I’d never watch these again.

They are genuinely some of the worst episodes of SG1

I said what I said

“Sure. Its really cool. Steam comes out of it and everything”

She’s gonna kill someone

WALTER

Thats right

FUCK OFF SAUL

DOESN’T MEAN THERE WASN’T ANY GOA’ULD HERE RECENTLY

I love that they take odds

but this scene is only here to set up the character that is the reason Janet dies

because Janet shouldn’t have been off base

but we’re not going to talk about that are we?

The episode would have played out the same if this man had died

Anyone can die in war

Doesn’t matter if they’re a parent etc

but nah

we gotta -

sorry I’ll stop

SHE’S SO HOT

JACK YOU IDIOT

As if he read the memo

THERE SHOULD BE A CAKE

Obviously he can’t tell you much because he was DEAD

OMG TEAL’C

HE’S NOT SAYING A WORD

BECAUSE HE FUCKING HATES THIS GUY MORE THAN I DO

SAUL SHUT UP

LITERALLY NO ONE CARES

GO HOME

“Dr Jackson is going to die when he sees this”

“What again?”

my dude you have NO idea

This is what happens when you go poking around

you get ambushed

because it was all a fucking set up

no explination of WHO set them up tho... it was just a set up

what

joke

wooooooow

they took it out with a WALL

NOT THIS FUCKING ARSE HOLE

KINSEY JUST PISS OFF

WE DON’T LIKE YOU

WE DON’T WANT YOU

GO SUCK A ROTTEN TOMATO

EVEN SAUL IS BORED OF YOU

AND HE’S THE MOST BORING MAN I’VE EVER MET

leave Jack alone

YES JACK

Its not slander if its TRUE YOU WANKER

NO YOU HAVE NOT

PAST AND PRESENT YOU ASS

JFC

Who cares what the president wants

I am 90% sure Jack just called Kinsey a limp dick and I’ve never been prouder?

“deep and unyielding love for you, sir” SHUT UP JACK YOU GOOSE

Well Mr Bregman can such a toe

Fancy arguing with Space Dad from Texas

OH FUCK OFF SAUL

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

NO ONE CARES

HAMMOND IS RIGHT

PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIE IF YOU’RE THERE

PEOPLE ARE GOING TO GET HURT

YOU HAVE NO RIGT TO BE THERE

Sam joking around with Teal’c is so sweet

I love them and their friendship so much

Gah!

OF COURSE THERE IS A CHANCE THINGS WILL GO WRONG YOU NARCACISTIC FUCK

ITS LIKE TO GO MORE WRONG WITH YOU THERE

I’M SORRY I’M YELLING SO MUCH I JUST HATE HIM WITH MY ENTIRE BODY.

Well is he wrong?

Because you’re an absolute arse, thats why it doesn’t matter

Shots of your ass serve us all well O’Neill

“How do you feel about Colonel O’Neill”

She wishes to kiss him, sir.

And potentially much more but we shall no discuss that here

He is amazing

Time outside of work... what are you insinuating

Good cover

Like family

First and foremost her superior officer

Secondly your LOVER

because I pretend Pete doesn’t exist right now

OH THIS SCENE

Actually that was pretty cute Daniel

And you’re right it is fascinating

At some action?

So you can be a dick and use peoples death as entertainment?

Fuck me

His job is the inscriptions

seriously fuck this guy

I love how Sam’s face goes from he’s right its boring to aww Daniel, he didn’t :O

I love their friendship

But it nearly could have cause people like oh, I don’t know, YOUR BOYFRIEND, SAMANTHA, stalk people

shouldn’t have stayed as long as you did

if y’all hadn’t stayed

this wouldn’t have happened

Janet my love

I’m crying

wow Jack has been hurt a fuck tonne

he didn’t give permission

Saul is an ass

I’m literally fighting tears right now

I fucking love her so much

You never know what to expect but you do such a good job sweetie

I’m so proud of you

The more she talks the more proud of her I am

and the more of a loss it truly is that she goes

because she’s fucking incredible and she has so much heart

her little laugh fucking STOP

My heart is literally breaking

AND DR FRAISER

STOP

THEY WOULDN’T HAVE JUST WALKED INTO AN AMBUSH LIKE THAT ON ANY OLD DAY

WHY NOW

WHO WROTE THIS FUCKING SHIT

FUCK OFF SAUL

THIS IS RIDICULOUS

HER GIGGLE STOP I LOVE HER

SHE DESERVED MORE

DO NOT GO

JANET NO STAY

BABY

and we end there to go to part two

this episode felt weird

it feels like is a drama inside a drama does that make sense?

It kinda feels like 200

like it feels fake and like its about to cut to a shot of them sitting around a table, flabergasted and with their heads in their hands

So Robert C. Cooper wrote it

I just wanna talk buddy... just wanna talk

THEY AIRED THIS FUCKER THE DAY BEFORE VALENTIES DAY?!?! WTF SYFY?!

Alright starting episode 2

SAUL FUCK OFF YOU CAN’T BE THERE

JANET BABY DON’T GOOOOOOO

I AM CRYING

I have my pillow pet who is named Janet

She was a gag gift about 7 years ago and I was watching SG1 at the time

but also she just looked like a Janet

She’s become a staple in my life and I love her

Anyway she always gets me through these episodes

credits

still not into it right now

should have skipped them this episode tbh

end credits

Ordered chocolate cake

it arrived

i’m happy with this choice

I don’t give a fuck about them deciding what happens in the fucking video

Good answer Daniel

I could also watch Major Carter’s head talk all day

They didn’t stand a fucking chance out there

They ran into that situation totally unprepared

which they would never have done normally

this whole two parter is fucking bull shit

and then they pit Jack and Janet against each other... like who are we gonna be more upset to lose in this moment

Fuck Jack

baby noooo

I can’t take this episode ffs

Lol Walter being cute

Get out of there

You cunt

get that fucking camera off

fuck this guy

no Sam

fuck off

leave her alone

punch him in the face

oh Sam honey I’m so sorry

she lost her best friend

FUCK OF SAUL

JESUS

HER BEST FRIEND JUST DIED

SHE’S IN PAIN

YOU DO NOT GET TO DICTATE WHETHER PEOPLE GET FILMED WHEN SHE’S CLEARLY IN PAIN

I’LL TURN YOU OFF YOU FUCKING ARSE HOLE FUCK YOU

don’t sit there all upset like your day has been ruined

And now we have them making us think Jack died so that we worry about him the entire episode instead of Janet

because who cares about her right?

FUCKING WOOLSEY

I literally just screamed

i hate him

this episode can’t get any FUCKING WORSE

I also question the decision.

No offence Space Dad of Texas

but it doens’t make sense that you chose to do what you did

I’m sorry but it doesn’t

FUCK OOOOOOFFFF WOOOSLEY

Hammond visiting Carter <3

Ah Barrett

So Woolsey is a corrupt piece of shit

Whoda thunk it

I’m crying again

Poor Hammond

Poor Sam

Talking at the memorial man

OH GOOD MORE WOOLSEY

BECAUSE THIS EPISODE ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH...

Fuck him

And the truth is that you’re a dick, moving on

Daniel has a point... and I hate saying that but he has a point

I love Sam

Daniel doesn’t give a fuck

Go Daniel I’m proud of you

OH NOT SAUL AND THE F U C K I N G CAMERA

NO PISS OFF

This is cruel

to make us see her death

to show us her literal dead body was too fucking much

I’m sorry but this would have been just as powerful if Simons had died

Hes a good kid

but this would have had the same impact

I’m sick of this man

I’m sick of this shit

OH MY GOD GO THE FUCK AWAY YOU PIECE OF SHIT

Which is why you bastards should not have been in the fucking field

It was of a man dying

end of

Yeah but what they do every single day doesn’t mean show us JANETS DEATH

Sharing it with the world won’t make him feel any better about one of his best friends getting show you mole

Good, Woolsey again

suck my dick

So this guy put money values on peoples heads

and he got command of Atlantis?

Yeah fuck him I’m not watching s5 of Atlantis

to be fair $27 million is a lot of money

but its still peopls lives

fuck off you smarmy git

I would love to see him tossed out on his arse

He can do that

fuck off you don’t get to say in whether or not you’re there or have a right to be there

you’re invading on peoples privacy

you’re an ass

The Tape

Fuck the N.I.D

I actually feel really bad for Daniel

fuck you Bregman

so excited to see people’s deaths

I had to pause for a moment

because I just saw Janet die

and its cruel

We didn’t have to see her death

knowing it happened was bad enough

physically seeing her dead is like salt in the wound

Janet deserved so much more than this

hope you’re happy bregman

sam visiting Jack

hurts because i love the cute moment

but it hurts

because we shuoldn’t have had to lose janet for this

Cassie... my heart is broken

the way he looks at her when she starts crying and the hug like he has been there with her so many times

its all so sweet

and they’re so in love but they can’t have each other

its rude

Poor Simon...

Poor Sam

watching her cry is so hard

and Teal’c

guys i’m not sure i can finsih this

ok sorry I’m back

Gotta pick up Cassie

Cassie 100% lived with Sam right?

Oh Teal’c... i love you so, so much you sweet angel

and the little hug.. their friendship is beautiful

I’m so sick of Bregman at this point

and them being in the room where Daniel died, where Jack chose to get his symbiote, where they saved Cassie and Sam and countless others, where they helped Teal’c

Janet was so strong, so wise

oh Daniel... I’m sorry

It does but others don’t need to see it Daniel

Oh fuck I’ll be back after the memorial

its such a beautiful memorial

and Im glad they chose Sam to talk

I’m gonna say some more in my final notes

its hard right now with the tears

I still think you’re an absolute arse, Saul

This was kinda sweet actually

oh they named the baby Janet

i’m never gonna stop crying

Oh Jack

he’s so unimpressed

what a stupid way to end it

sorry but that was shit

Final thoughts

i genuinely hate these episodes. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever watch them again. Even with another watch through.. they’re not as well written or directed as other episodes, they’re unbelievable in the cannon of the show and breaks their own rules, not to mention the sheer heartbreak

Bregman is one of the most unlikeable characters in the show. If Simmons had of been alive he could have been in the episode too just to add to the trifecta of cunts!

Cassie should have been at the memorial

they make you think Jack is dead so we won’t worry about janet to what? make it more of a shock? because it doesn’t work. It should never have been designed to make us feel relief at Janet’s death because it wasn’t Jack! It doesn’t do her justice.

Janet Fraiser was a smart woman with a massive heart. She was brave and strong and she cared for everyone even when they were arseholes. She had a bit of fun with SG1 sometimes too. She was an incredible Dr, mother and friend. Janet was tiny but tough. Something that i aim for. I’m 5ft2 so basically the same as Janet and believe it or not i’ve had people question my ability to be a good teacher because noone will take me seriously. Janet always made me feel like people would take me seriously and that even though I’m small, I can do big things. She encouraged me to be a good person with a heart of gold. Her death hits really hard for that reason. but also because she was an incredible character who deserved more than what she was given. Hardly any screen time and then murdered to make some sort of point that didn’t need making??? Not to mention she’s mentioned twice in the next three seasons and when she “comes back” in Ripple Effect she spends almost no time with Sam which makes exactly 0 sense.

Someone recently said they heard she was killed because the writers didn’t know how much more time they had and wanted to wrap some stuff up? Lets not forget that they made the end of this season a huge cliff hanger... but I’m still not sure what we could wrap up with her death? She had a fucking child!

Any way I won’t be watching this again. I’m sorry this isn’t much fun but hopefully you’ve got a giggle out of me swearing at the idiots

I love you all for reading this and supporting me posts, they’re usually pretty fun to make honestly!

#Stargate #Stargate SG1 #SG1: Heroes pt1 #SG1: Heroes pt2 #SG1 #Samantha Carter #Jack O'Neill #Janet Fraiser #Teal'c #Daniel Jackson #Michael Shanks #Teryl Rothery #Christoper Judge #Amanda Tapping #ATapps #Richard Dean Anderson #RDA #mudblood-and-proud watches

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hungrywhovianjedi · 4 years

Text

Twin Moons

Chapter one of my Star Wars A/U fic

read the epilogue here also find the full fic on my FF.net and AO3 here FF AO3

premise: Obi-Wan never took Luke to Tatooine in fact they overshot the force forsaken dustball completely and instead Luke grew up on the planet Lothal being trained to become a Jedi like his father before him. Ezra Bridger is an orphan loner who only makes an exception to his solitude for one boy. The boy who helped him out when he was seven, and that Ezra always seems to get into trouble.

Chapter summary: snapshots into the life of Obi-Wan and Luke as the boy grows up on Lothal, and a meeting with a hungry little boy who really wants a jogan fruit

Lothal wasn’t an unpleasant planet, but from the start one thing was clear to Obi-Wan, it wouldn’t be somewhere they could stay forever. The one blessing of the place was the abundant amount of untouched countryside. It was in this countryside, a fair distance from Capital City, that he purchased a small hut that he and Luke could live in.

Luke… Luke was everything he believed Padme would have hoped for. His blonde curls and bright blue eyes were a spitting image of Anakin, and Obi-Wan would have been lying if he said that it didn’t send a pang of grief through his heart. Then there was raising the boy. Sure he had practically raised the child’s father, but that was from the age of nine on, he wasn’t unfamiliar with the needs of an infant, he had taken time in the Temple to assist Master Yoda with caring for the younglings that was not to say he was particularly good at it however.

Exactly how bad he was at caring for younglings became clear when Luke began crawling, and he realized how hazardous everything was, that was also when the old jedi had stopped carrying his saber with him in the house. These things truly come into focus, when a nine month old, trying to pull himself up your leg accidentally activates your lightsaber nearly losing his toes. No no he wasn’t very good at this.

When Luke was two, he began to train the boy. Luke was a natural, already he was able to call a toy from across the room, or even hold full conversations with his “uncle” through the force. Obi-Wan thought that better. He was Luke’s uncle, had loved his father like a brother. So he became Uncle Ben. The first thing that Ben needed to teach him, was something not commonly taught in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, shielding. It was something Masters taught padawans before taking them on risky missions, but now it had begun to be a necessity of life.

He had seen the propaganda being streamed on the holonet, had seen Vader, a ghastly specter in all black, flanked by his enforcers. The inquisitors, force sensitive beings whose only driving goal was to hunt down the last of the “treasonous jedi” Vader’s robotically deep voice had informed the galaxy. He and his inquisitors would not rest until the galaxy was safe from the Jedi at last. It was horrifying, each one wore a mask but one, a tall man that Ben knew well. He had been a kind man, a guardian of the temple one he had spoken with often. He didn’t know his name, but his sorrow at seeing what he had become was great. The others were likely fallen Jedi as well, he didn’t want to know who else might be behind those masks, it was bad enough the force screamed at him who was behind the mask of Vader. The flashing lights on the front, others would assume were a control panel, likely thinking the man was no more than a machine, but Ben knew could hear the labored breathing of a man who would die without that mask. He did that.

Luke stirred in his arms, the toddler having fallen asleep while they watched Holo-programs for children. A stab of guilt went through him. He had cursed this child’s father to a fate worse than death by leaving him on the shores of Mustafar.

“I’m sorry Anakin, I failed you. I failed you” he looked down at Luke, “but I won’t fail him. I promise now I will not make the same mistakes with your son that I made with you”

Attachments were forbidden in the Jedi order, yet, despite trying his hardest to keep to the code, when he felt the love of attachment to his padawan, and even his grand padawan Ahsoka, he never saw what harm could come of it. He did however see the other side of it. Luminara... her padawan Barris, he had seen the hands off way she handled the girl, and in the end it led to her destroying the lives of not only those injured or killed in the blast, but Ahsoka and Anakin as well. He knew that the way the Council had ruled at that time had been one of the final blows to Anakin’s trust in them. That was the action that had lost him his padawan, it was why he didn’t go to the council for help when things got bad.

Luke wouldn’t have an easy time being raised in the ways of the force, but Ben knew he had little choice in the matter. The boy must learn to protect himself, especially if Yoda was right, and this boy and his sister were the last hopes of the galaxy.

The third year came and went quickly, and Ben crafted Luke his first practice Saber, really it was a wooden rod, since they didn’t have access to the Kyber needed to make a real practice saber, and began teaching the boy his forms. They did it by moonlight outside, as the hut was too small and doing it during the day would draw too much attention.

He taught the boy his basic Katas, he began with form one, and realized how difficult it would be to teach a three year old child the patience needed to learn saber forms. Instead the Jedi Master made a game of it.

It took months of their “game” Luke called it clack. Ben and Luke would each take a training saber, and they would clack them together, the goal was to break through and touch the other, and to avoid the “clack” of the sabers. Soon, he noticed Luke picking up some of his forms, as he had been careful to feed the basic stances of Shii cho into the game, and by the time his fourth birthday came Luke had learned all of the Kata’s of form one. It was then that Ben told him. Taught him that the game they played was really training to use a lightsaber. That was the first time he showed the boy his father’s saber. That was also the night that Ben told Luke a story.

He told a story of a young queen from Naboo, and a brave slave boy from Tatooine. He told the boy the story of an army of brothers, who became like family a young woman who became their sister, and for now, he left out all the heartache that went with it, let the little one live with the happy memories of the family who would have loved him.

By the time Luke was five, he was a natural of form one and had easily began to learn form two, it wouldn’t be long before he moved into form three Soresu, which Ben was looking forward to, his own mastery of the form making it the one easiest for him to teach. It was also when Ben began teaching Luke the way to find peace inside of the force.

Meditation had always been Anakin’s worst skill, the boy had always had a nervousness about him, that caused him to seek out alternative methods. Luke however seemed to have Padme’s patience, as he found it easy to dive into the force. Ben barely had to guide him.

He guided the boy with recitation of the Jedi code.

“There is no emotion, There is peace” Luke took a breath, “take all of your emotions, and release them, Luke”

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge” Ben closed his eyes taking hold of Luke in the force and guiding him, “release your questioning mind to the force, allow it to answer you”

“There is no passion, there is serenity” The force flowed through him, “release your control, allow the force to guide you”

“There is no chaos, there is harmony” he felt Luke relax, allowing the force to take him deeper, “in the force all is equal, feel it there balanced before you”

“There is no death, there is only the force” Luke let out a breath, and Ben felt it too, a gentle sigh in the force, he could almost see the hands of Padme reach out and wrap around Luke. it shouldn’t be possible, non force sensitive people shouldn’t have a presence as such, even jedi do not keep their own energy when they die, yet there was no denying Padme’s presence, just for a moment then she was gone.

That wasn’t to be the last time he felt Padme in the force, the senator appearing that night as he did his own meditation

“Hello Master Jedi” came the soft voice of his friend.

“Padme, how is this possible? You were not sensitive to the force, yet I felt you with Luke and can tell you are real now”

Padme simply smiled and sat beside him, his meditation scape the room of a thousand fountains, “I’ve never known the great Obi-Wan Kenobi to question the force” she chuckled. “I suppose you could say I’m not truly here, but part of me is. It’s hard to explain, like a piece of me stayed behind when I died, I just remember being so scared, so cold. I reached out and someone answered, and it was like I split then. A part of me, the part speaking to you now, went with Luke, I suppose as some sort of guardian. The other with Leia”

Ben rubbed at his beard, “it is somewhat of an unknown what really happens when we die. Master Yoda says we rejoin the force, yet nobody has ever spoken with someone who is dead before”

“Now you have, I wanted to say something to you” Padme began, “Thank you, thank you for taking care of my son”

Ben didn’t know what to say, instead he just smiled, and nodded.

He came out of his meditation then, feeling lighter than he had for five years, confident in the fact that at least one of Luke’s parents was proud of what he was doing for their child. It was good that he came out of meditation when he did, as a sleepy Luke walked into the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“Ben, I had a bad dream”

Ben smiled and opened his arms, “come here Luke, tell me about it”

~~~~~~~~~

Luke Skywalker knew he several things fir certain. One he had no parents, Ben told him they were heroes, his father a Jedi knight. Two nobody could ever know he was a jedi, Ben hid from him the worst of it, but he was aware that they were hunted. Three Ben Kenobi was the best father figure he could have asked for. Those of course were the obvious things, he knew he was loved. He knew he was safe, but he couldn’t help but be lonely. Sure he had Ben, and he enjoyed training to become a Jedi like Ben and his father were before the purge, but Ben was the only person he knew. He was seven years old, and he had no friends. He had tried talking to the person from the dormant tether in his mind, but they didn’t seem to like him, or they didn’t know how to talk to him more likely. Ben wasn’t very willing to tell the seven year old Luke why he had a quiet tether in his mind or why it was clearly a little girl his age, maybe Ben would tell him when he got older.

Until then, he helped Ben run the little garden behind their hut, and trained his saber katas behind the fence Ben built last summer.

Today he was doing his katas while Ben went up on the bluff to trade with one of the traveling farmers for some of the things they didn’t grow, that he heard the hum in the force. It was odd, sounding almost like the hum that came when Ben lowered his shields to teach Luke a new skill, but different. It wasn’t a very strong hum, and he didn’t think whoever had it had been trained at all. At least not by someone like Ben, his shielding was awful! At least he assumed it was a boy, as he hooked his father’s saber back to his waist and climbed up the fence to look over.

Huddled behind a boulder nearby, was a boy around Luke’s age, with black shaggy hair, and a dirty old orange jumpsuit. He was eyeing Ben’s Jogan tree hungrily. Luke dropped down and snuck around to the gate of the fence, and opened it. Continuing to move quietly, he moved so he was behind the same boulder as the boy.��

“Are you hungry?” Luke asked.

The boy shot up into the air with a loud scream, that made Luke giggle, and hold out the tart he had brought out for a snack after his training.

“Here, it’s a jogan fruit tart, it will be better than a raw one off of my uncle’s tree” for a moment Luke wondered if the boy spoke basic, and started to try and think of other ways he may word it, he didn’t know many languages yet, it was one of the few things that Ben had any trouble teaching him.

“Wait, you’re just giving it to me?” oh good, he did speak basic, less struggle for him then.

Luke nodded, “Yes, Ben always says when people are hungry you should help them… so are you hungry?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically and wolfed down the tart. Luke was shocked how quickly the sweet treat disappeared. Then the boy grinned at him when it was gone “you’re right, that was really good”

Luke grinned back “I’m glad, my name is Luke Skywalker by the way”

The other boy held out his hand, “Nice to meet you Luke Skywalker, my name’s Ezra Bridger”

Luke shook his hand, he had a good feeling about Ezra Bridger, and when he reached out to the force, it seemed to have a good feeling about him too.

#whovian writes #star wars rebels #star wars #star wars ff #star wars original trilogy #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker #ezra bridger #skybridger #star wars a/u #ff #fanficion #twin moons #lothal

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sailtoafarawayland · 4 years

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The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary: No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF

- or read below the cut -

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates.

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore.

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #modern au #actors #the things we don't say

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lixuagi · 5 years

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The Cure for Death - chapter 1

(Since some of you said that they would really like to read my Valdemar/MC FF -I’m so happy!!!- here’s the first chapter. This takes place before the actual Arcana storyline, when the Plague is looming over Vesuvia. MC’s abilities and character are based off of one of my ocs that I will introduce in another post. However I didn’t write about her appearence so everyone can imagine their own character, she’s a girl though and she uses feminine pronouns. I hope this doesn’t ruin the reading for anyone. Enjoy! Here’s some context): MC is Asra’s young and kind apprentice. She has a talent that even her master couldn’t teach: a natural talent for healing. But with great powers come great responsabilities, and she’ll learn that ending up working as a nurse for the infamous Quaestor Valdemar. However, a greater danger lurks in the shadow. Will her light still shine if faced with the dark?

Somewhere, in a world suspended between reality and intangible, someone was watching me. -I must have that power. It’s indispensable. – A voice too deep and greedy to not be evil. -I need it for everything to go as planned. I need it to succeed. I have to have it. I must… have her.- But I couldn’t know. . -Here we go. It’s all right now. Try to move your arm- I smile kindly at the little girl sitting in front of me in my shop. She does what she’s asked, smiling back with an even bigger grin that’s missing a canine. -Wow! You’re such a witch! – she giggles, waving her slender limb a few minutes earlier fractured by a bad fall. -I prefer mage, but thank you.- I sneer, watching the faint emerald light leave my palms. -Yes, as you wish! Mother told me she’ll come by in the morning to pay you properly.- I help her get back on her feet, and off the stool. -Tell her it’s not necessary. It was just a small thing.- I take her hand and walk her out the door. - Really?- Her big eyes open wide, glowing with amazement. I nod softly. -Thank you! You’re the nicest witch in the world!- just the time to give me a hug, and the little girl hurries out of the store. I follow her with my eyes, shouting: -Don’t tire that arm too much! And watch your steps next tim– I stop, realizing that, far away as she is, she probably can’t hear me anymore. I cross my arms, shaking my head and muttering to myself: -These kids…- I sigh, turning to go back in, but I find myself in front of Asra, my master and colleague. -A very good job as usual, MC.- he puts his hand on my shoulder with his usual politeness. I sense that’s not all he wants to tell me, so I wait for him to continue. -But you don’t eat with selflessness…you know times are hard. -I look down, feeling naive. -She was just a child…How could I ask her for compensation?- I know he doesn’t like to scold me, but his eyebrows, white as his thick hair, show that he’s already decided to do it. -You know that her mother is the wife of one of Vesuvia’s richest merchants. He would have paid us handsomely. Yours is a rare if not unique gift. No one has such mastery of healing magic as you. This must be rewarded.- I remain silent, my eyes fixed on the floor. Really, I’m a fool. How could I miss such an opportunity when people are starving outside or worse, consumed by the plague? Noticing that I’m silent, Asra sighs, just tightening his grip to reassure me. -It’s okay, MC. -I don’t want you to be hard on yourself about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.- I put my hand on his, raising my eyes to meet his gaze of a soft violet, strong contrast to his amber skin. -I know. Maybe it’s just… - I swallow, looking for the best words. -I don’t want to be somebody who makes money off other people’s suffering.- he seems to get indignant and gets ready to argue about it, but I interrupt him before that happens. -I just want to help the cause. I just…want to save all those lives.- these words seem to calm him,and his expression comes back relaxed and apprehensive. -You’re not an Arcana. You’re a human being and you can’t save everyone. You have to accept that. You can’t keep accusing yourself forever after– I barely raise a hand to put a stop to his words. I don’t want to remember, but it’s inevitable. -If I had tried harder, if I had resisted…that man’s children would still have a father. He would have loved and protected them… - I cover my face with my hands, while the images of that day manifest before me like apparitions. The man had entered leaving a copious trail of blood behind him. He could hardly speak, given the numerous stabs he had received, from what I could understand, thanks to a robber. Every wound, extremely deep, that I could barely heal, deprived me of so much energy. When I got to what would later be his fatal cut, on the carotid artery, Asra had to tear me from the patient or I would end up going beyond my abilities and dying with him. He took it upon himself to tell the family of the deceased. I didn’t eat for a week after it happened. I felt like a murderer. The guilt gripped me, and was a painful grip. One day the doorbell rang, and I went to open the door. Even though Asra kept me from receiving any more customers while I was so exhausted, now he couldn’t do it because he went shoppingshopping for necessities. On the threshold were two children, brother and sister, the eldest being no older than eleven. -Daddy’s dead, and it’s your fault! -The hate with which the infant stared at me was unspeakable, while just behind him his little sister sobbed incessantly. I stammered something, pale in the face. Days later I saw them again in a wagon. He took the victims of the Red Plague to the Lazaret.

-Sometimes, when the door opens and the bells jingle, I think it’s their ghosts.-I whisper, looking down and staring into nothingness. A tear runs down my cheek, but I don’t realize it until Asra dries it with his thumb, bringing me back to reality. He doesn’t know what to say. Seeing me like that always breaks his heart. He

clutches me tightly, resting his chin on my head. I can feel his jaw tighten. He holds me like this for a few minutes, like he’s afraid I might disappear at any moment. After a long deliberation, he finds the strength to do what’s right. -What would make you happy? -My heart melts to feel he’s putting aside his fears for my well-being. -I want to go out there. I don’t care what happens next. I need to redeem myself, or I won’t be able to go on. -A doubt grips him though, forcing him to give it voice: -Let’s consider the possibility of a repeat of…that unfortunate event. How would you handle it? - I think carefully about the answer. -I’ll have to make it up to it again. For every victim there’ll be three times as many healed.- I clench my fists and I get out of the hug. Even the young man notes that my eyes are full of determination. -if not more. Every night I’ll go to bed exhausted and if not I’ll have to continue even when the moon is shining. It’s my nature, Asra. I was born for this.- I run to the back room, where we both live. His lips open in an expression of utter amazement. Ever since I was a child he has taken me under his wing, finding me in the middle of the road healing pets for pennies. By now he knows me like the back of his hand, or so he thought. He had never seen such passion in a girl who was usually shy and caring. I’ve grown up. At this moment, Asra Alnazar ceases to think he educated me personally. He took care of me, like a gardener watering his flower, just waiting for me to bloom on my own. And at this point there’s nothing he can do. He realizes that if I wanted to, he would have to let me go.

When I return, I have the bag over my shoulder, loaded with everything that could be useful to me during my journey, including, of course, my deck of tarot cards. Although my specialty is healing magic, over the years I have been taught to master the white one discreetly as well. Black magic is still an unexplored

territory, and frankly I hope I never have to experience it. It was always Asra who left me alone in the shop

during his expeditions in who knows which corner of the real world or magical realms. Now it’s my turn.

Let’s call it a declaration of independence.

-Where will you go?- he asks me, eyes veiled with sadness as he suppresses a “will you come back?” -Where’s the need for me to be.- I smile at him, but it’s not enough to calm him down. I look at his worried

face. -This isn’t a good-bye, Asra.- - Promise me.- He’s holding out a hand while also holding something

back. I hand him mine, and he drops a necklace in my palm with an emerald pendant amulet. -What is it?- I

don’t swear. Anything could happen out there. I may never get back to him. -When you need me, if you’ll

ever do, you can contact me with this. I’ll always be with you, MC.- He’s coming up to me, putting his arms

around my neck. I blush at the proximity of our faces. As soon as I hear the click of the necklace closing, I

pull away. Many times I have wondered if in all these years of living together Asra had ever wanted me to

be something more than an apprentice or a friend. But even more I wondered if I wished that too. These

moments with him seem to give me the illusion that it wouldn’t hurt to be with him for the rest of my life.

After all, he has never been anything but kind to me, and a thousand other good things. However, although

these reflections confuse me quite a bit, a part of me wants our relationship to remain pure, genuine. It’s

too precious, it goes beyond physical attraction. It’s so deep that it’;s platonic. If I ever had to make a choice,

I’d die for him. And I’m sure he’d do the same for me. -I have to go- I whisper to him with my head down

without having the courage to look at him again. I put my hand on the door knob and turn it, opening the

door wide. -MC.-I turn to him, and it hurts. For a moment I have the impression that he wants to reveal

his deepest confessions and his innermost thoughts to me. Then he bites his lip like he’s taking it all back. -

You haven’t promised yet.- I smile at him. -I’ll come back,I promise you that.- I didn’t think the first time I

left Asra would be the first time I could lie to him. But with those words,I disappear from his sight,not

knowing for how long.

I look around. The streets of Vesuvia have never been so deserted. A boiling wind lifts the sand from the clay soil, creating a vermilion mist. I decide to pass through the market, usually the place that is swarming with people, especially in the late afternoon. Few stalls have the courage to continue selling, the merchants constantly exposed to the incurable and deadly disease. In the distance I can see the stall of Selasi, the baker from whom Asra and I used to go every morning to have breakfast, in more pleasant times. The closer I get, the more I notice the scarcity of the goods: even for him the raw materials are now unobtainable. When he notices me, the man makes his gaze lighten towards my figure, then looks away, as if terrified. To say the least, a peculiar behavior given his joyful character. I remember how his face lit up at the sight of every customer, who he treated daily with all the warmth that a friend would give. Now I stand a few meters away from him when I feel that something is wrong. A familiar aura surrounds him: that of someone who is suffering. My slow pace becomes fast as I approach him: -Selasi!- he jumps. His face looks very emaciated. It’s not just the famine. -Ah, Miss MC… -What can I offer you today?- His voice is a tired, almost inaudible rale. Even stranger, since he is used to shouting to be heard by crowds. His gaze is firmly planted on the ground. -Selasi… you are…- -Don’t come any closer!- I back away, surprised by that shout. Then he continues, mortified: -Please…I don’t want you to…- The question is enough to convince him to look me in the eye. His are injected with blood, his sclera is totally vermilion, his skin is pale and cracked. I have never seen a plague patient so closely, but I can recognize them thanks to Asra’s stories and the medical documents he had given me. He had never allowed me to treat one in the shop, he was afraid that I would be drained of any strength or worse, infected. I wonder if I’d be able to do anything. -Why didn’t you come to me? You’re a friend.- I’m trying to get closer, but he’s reluctant. -I can’t risk causing anyone’s death, I just can’t. I try to keep my distance, but… - one cough interrupts him. He tries to turn around, but when he does, blood splashes on a loaf of bread. The disease takes its course in three days. The first you have a harmless fever, the third you’re at the Lazaret, waiting for your body to be burned among hundreds more. -Please, let me help you. I’ve treated sick people before, certainly not this kind of pathology, but I’ve never been infected. Please, Selasi.- the choice is not difficult for him, after all what does he have to lose? If he doesn’t try, he’ll die soon anyway. -I don’t have much on me, but…- -No, I don’t want anything. I just don’t want you to suffer anymore. Your offer almost hurts me. I’m not that kind of person, not anymore.- Somehow I’ll find other ways to make a living. I extend my hands to his face, and this time he won’t retract. My palms glow bright green. The brighter it is, the greater the effort. Now it looks so bright that I feel like I’ll be blinded at any moment. However, I’ve been practicing a lot since the accident. I am able to endure this, and even more so as I close my eyes to concentrate. My energy penetrates under his skin, looking for the focus of the discomfort. I can feel it flowing, it is liquid and it expands throughout his body, everywhere. It’s… the blood. The problem is now all over the circulatory system, and it’s invading the other organs with disarming speed. I have to stop it. I channel my magic into every single artery, vein and capillary. Nothing must be left uncovered. My being, meanwhile, is now in a total trance. I am no longer aware of the outside world. All I see is my light branching out into thousands of wires and tunnels. When I have invaded every zone, I try to keep my breathing regular, ignoring the dizziness that begins to manifest itself, and I begin purification. I hope that Selasi is feeling instant relief, it would mean that it is working. My stomach is writhing on itself, nauseated, and my legs are made of butter. I can do this. The darkness is about to disintegrate, I can feel it. My temples are throbbing. The heavy air comes in and out of my lungs quickly. I slowly close my fists, calling the light back to me. -Purify and return.- I whisper the formula needed to end the spell. I feel the energies come back to my hands, even if they have now decimated, they have finished their task. I hope it has been successful as I squint my eyelids. My feet touch the ground again. Apparently I was really floating. -Selasi…? -I hardly whisper. I can’t find any answers. For a moment I’m afraid I lost him. My vision is blurred and distorted, I can’t distinguish shapes and sounds come to me muffled. Maybe he’s talking to me, but I can’t hear him anymore. The darkness overwhelms me as I abandon myself to its warmth.

Immersed in the darkness, I can only hear the echo of my thoughts. It’s ridiculous. It would be pathetic if the first time I left Asra, I died. Maybe that’s exactly what happened to me, though. Maybe there was a reason I was never allowed to treat Red Plague patients. Maybe it would have been fatal. At least I saved a life. At least I redeemed myself. I remain immersed in that dense shadow for what appears to be an infinite amount of time. Then I see a pristine light, the famous light at the end of the tunnel. Where is it taking me? When I try to walk towards it I find myself unable to move. But it’s getting bigger, it is the one who is getting closer. My ears ring, it’s deafening. Where am I? When I come out of the luminous aura, I begin to struggle to distinguish a figure. They’re dressed in white, they have a gown, a strange headgear of the same colour in the shape of horns, the skin… green. My imagination is playing tricks on me. They wear a ruby coloured brooch on their chest, it’s shaped like a beetle, and their eyes are bloodshot, with a feline pupil. I’ve never seen this individual. The ringing in my ears fades to make room for sound. The figure is talking. -Oh, you’re waking up, I see.- -Mm…am I dead? Are you an angel?- A giggle answers me. -Oh, no, to be precise, I’m quite the opposite.-

Notes: thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave a like/reblog/comment with your opinion and/or how would you like the story to go on! Ik that we meet dr vivisexy just at the end but this is just the beginning, things will change :3 Please keep in mind that english is not my native language so padron me if I made any mistakes!

#valdemar #quaestor valdemar #Valdemarxreader #thearcana #the arcana valdemar #valdemar x mc #Thearcanafanfiction #ff #The Cure for Death

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dbzebra · 4 years

Note

☕️ OH YKNOW WHAT AT THAT NOTE? Talk about that dbs broly movie cuz yknow. That’s a hot topic of the ages that folk feel particularly really strongly about

ooooh ive been waiting for this one. We watched this together on discord so you know my general feelings but Im happy i got this ask lol.

putting this under read more cause it gets long

The new movie that everyone seems to love and adore.... that I dont. It was a pretty middle of the ground, meh overrated af movie. Not bad, just nothing special. I enjoyed watching it sure, but not something I have an inkling to return to anytime soon if ever. It was just ‘there’ for me.

First, I’ll say the good stuff. The visuals looked really pretty. Nobody was THAT out of character of the existing cast (save for the ending), which i feel weird to have to even mention it as a positive, but nothing really stood out to me as a defining moment for the little cast we had besides Goku’s “youre not a bad guy, i can tell” or w/e. SUPER SAIYAN 1 IS STILL GOAT. It looked soooo good in this movie i wish we couldve kept it the whole time instead of Blue. But i will say, Blue looked much better in this movie than the series. The darker-blue with the lighter blue eyes was a nice change from instead of the ugly bluish-green the series did. Also the aura looked better. Backgrounds like the ice area and even Planet Vegeta were amazing. Action was great too. little Bulla was cute. The OST i liked (the chanting really grew on me) and Blizzard is a banger i love that song. Oh and the aritisic license they took for the fusion scene with the reds and blues spiraling together was great

Anyway thats all the positives I have lmaoo

This film includes Minus and I already went in depth on why I hate Minus with a passion and why it’s the worst thing to come out of modern Dragon so yeah moving on. But the fact that they devoted screentime to Gokus backstory which ultimately served no purpose to the story of the film and couldve been used more valuably elsewhere.

I said the action was good, and it was, but it almost too good. At times it was so fast to tell that was going on and really lessened the impact for me. Like when they went into the other dimension or whatever, Gogeta went blue and Broly went LSSJ (idc if the name is different name, itll always be legendary SSJ to me lmao) so ast it was a blink and you miss it moment. like what? those moments shouldve been given even a little bit of focus.

Next the cast. Goku and Vegeta. AGAIN. snorefest. no Gohan, Piccolo is just there to show them the fusion, Goten and Trunks are still kids and look like babies (and Pilaf gang is with them which is another can of worms), no Android 17, who the series established as one of the top 4 fighters on Earth.

Do we get any of that? Nope. Just the two Blue and Bluer fucking again and again I. dont. care. anymore. Their dynamic is so boring and played out id rather watch paint dry. It was fun in Buu Saga, hell it was even fun in GT, but DBS constantly forcing this dynamic and Vegeta as the second Main Character needs to fucking STOOOP. Toei and Toriyama has no idea how to further Vegeta’s character because theyre stuck in this infinite loop.

Vegeta doesnt want to help Goku, he mentions Bulma and/or Trunks, Vegeta blushes, and then he decides to help. THAT HAPPENED LIKE SIX TIMES IN DBS ALONE. It happened in Buu saga as well, but it organically worked cause it was the first time but Bulma and Trunks were ALREADY DEAD/ABSORBED. The look on his face wasnt blushy or pouting for a gag, dude was legit shocked. I rag on Vegeta but he had some legit great moments in the early arcs and later parts of Buu Saga. Anyway im off track. They repeat that same exact character moment OVER AND OVER. cant tell you how many times we had “my Bulma, my bulla, my Trunks, my cabba” in the Tournament of Power alone, and this movie is no different.

DO SOMETHING ELSE FFS

Then we have Broly. ohhhhhh boooy Broly. if you can even call this version of him Broly. His backstory is kinda the same as original movie 8/Broly LSSJ, but its more tragic becuase according to most fans, if youre background is a sobstory, that equals better character. NO. sure it could, but that trope was so worn out so long ago I hate it. “waaa his life was bad, hes not a bad guy” bruh i dont care thats not Broly. just make an OC if you wanna do that. but nope. gotta use the marketing! (More on that later)

People like to criticize Z Broly as “he hates Goku cause he cried” or “all he says is Kakarot” which both are false. On the first point, Broly is a psychopath. He was stabbed as an infant and left to die along with Paragus cause he was too powerful. Then that same day Planet Vegeta explodes practically on top of them. The rest of his life hes basically either being controlled or on a rampage. So that one moment of peace is “ruined” by Goku in a sense cause he subconsciously associates that with Goku. On the second point, Broly was already mentally unstable and then nearly dying, getting caught in the explosion of a SECOND PLANET and then being frozen for seven years will fuck anyone up in the head. Z Broly in the original movie was sadistic af and he had a lot of memorable moments and lines that werent just screaming Kakarot, that Second Coming made him infamous for.

New Broly is legit a man-baby. People talk about old Broly having no personality and this new version having a deep character, but I dont see it. He acts like a child when hes with Cheelai and Lemo and then once the fighting starts he doesnt say a single word but yell. SOUND FAMILIAR?? But he gets a pass because the canon police says so right??? fuck off. New Broly is boring. Im tired of trying to make the Saiyans into ThEyRe noT aLl BaD sEe The SaIyAns ArE AcTuAlLy GoOd!!!11111 ugh i hate it. keep Broly a psycho and keep Bardock a prick. even that guy that went with Buzz Lightyear I mean Paragus was a sweet guy who couldnt fight because of course he was. At least they kept Paragus being a prick when he killed him. Tho his death was lame.

Cheelai’s overrated af. Shes just green bulma lmao. and the fact that they included the “big soft-spoken man gets mad and saves girl from drunk lowkey-rapey pervert” trope just had me roll my eyes like dude stop. Lemo was fine? Nothing against him but didnt do much for me either.

FUCK. FREEZA. i went over this one before too so ill be quick with this as well. I hate hate hate the fact that they brought him back not once but twice in DBS, but even worse that they left him alive to do whatever tf he wants including going back to mass murdering people and expanding his army again. Goku and Vegeta just LET HIM LIVE. Why tf did they go all out and attack Broly, but not Freeza? when one of them was fighting Broly th other easily could have taken out freeza but nope we need a token villain like Joker or Skeletor cause unoriginality. Even at the end, Gogeta does a full power blast to wipe Broly tf out, but when Freeza tries to kill Cheelai and Lemo (two innocent people, feelings on them aside) Gogeta basically just shakes his finger like nuh-uh! dont do that! and then he flies off. Just let this mfer die already im sick of seeing his ass. FUCK I HATE IT SO MUCH GFGFFGFGFGF

Lastly this movie is legitimately Dragon Ball Fanservice The Movie.

Gogeta vs Broly, which the games have been doing since fucking 2003, is the main point of this film. Theres no originality whatsoever. Minus is discount Father of Goku special, and then its a mashup of Broly LSSJ and Fusion Reborn (both of which are superior movies imo). This creatively banrkupt shell of a franchise cant think of anything new, so they legit remake an old movie, through in fusions because that sells like hotcakes, and make the animation pretty because thats all that matters.

Imo, this movie, like 99% of Super, is all flash and flair but no substance at all. At least this movie looked nice. unlike the show.

ok thats all i got lmao

#this got really long lol #longer than i intended #but thought of more stuff as i went #asks #cozymochi

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lastbluetardis · 5 years

Text

Family of Six (11/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Explicit, 8500 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 2.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Next update: October 31st

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

Sianin was able to return home from the hospital the morning after her surgery. She was groggy from the pain medication and a little sore, but the doctor deemed her well enough to convalesce at home. James was given a bunch of info packets of how to keep her comfortable, problems to look out for, and the general timeline of her healing.

It took every ounce of restraint James had to let Sianin walk under her own power to the car, when every instinct told him to pick up his child and carry her to alleviate any discomfort she was in.

She walked slowly with shuffling steps, his hand gripped tightly in hers.

“All right?” he asked softly as they made their way down the corridor. A nurse walked on Sianin’s other side, ready to assist if needed.

“Yeah. It just feels funny,” she said, staring down at the floor with more concentration than strictly necessary. “Like something’s pulling inside me.”

“Go as slowly as you need to,” James soothed, giving her fingers a small squeeze.

When they finally made it to the car, he helped boost her into her seat and then buckled her in carefully, making sure no straps would press on her surgery incision.

He surely infuriated every motorist in the Oxford area with his slow driving, but he didn’t want to put any strain on his child’s wounds from speedy turns or sudden braking.

When he approached his home, James noticed his dad’s car was parked in the drive.

“Grandad’s here!” Sianin squealed.

“Seems like it. Stay sitting until I come ‘round to help.”

He parked beside his father, then assisted Sianin out of the car and grabbed their overnight bag from the next seat.

The front door opened before they’d even taken two steps towards the house. Rose rushed out to greet them.

“Sianin,” she breathed, crouching in front of their six-year-old to pull her in for a hug.

Sianin beamed and returned her mother’s embrace tightly, burrowing her face into Rose’s neck.

“I missed you, baby,” Rose murmured, stroking Sianin’s back. She pressed a series of kisses to Sianin’s cheeks and forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” Sianin answered. “My head feels heavy.”

“Any pain?”

“Only a little.”

“Go on inside, then we can curl up and watch any film you’d like.”

When her mother released her, Sianin ambled up the front porch and into the house.

Rose came up to James and gave him a quick hug and kiss.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Nah, I figured I’d bring her home against the doctor’s orders.” Rose’s mouth tightened, and James realized he shouldn’t make a joke of it. “Sorry, love. Yeah, everything’s fine. She should get up and walk around as often as she can to keep things from tightening up, but no physical activity for a few weeks. I have pamphlets from the hospital with more information.”

“She hasn’t had a shower yet, I see,” Rose noted curiously. “Neither have you, for that matter.”

“Are you saying we smell?” he asked, feigning affront.

“Well…”

James pinched her side, and she grinned.

“Nah, I noticed Sianin’s hair was still in a braid,” Rose said. “And your hair… well, it looks like it could use a wash is all.”

James stuck his tongue out at her, but couldn’t argue. His hair—his entire body, in fact—felt greasy.

“She wasn’t really up for showering,” James said by way of explanation. “Honestly, she’s been groggy and dazed up until about two hours ago. Fresh clothes were as good as I could do. If it had been up to her, she’d’ve worn the hospital gown home.” He threaded their fingers together and brought her hand to his lips to kiss each of her knuckles. “How were the kids last night?”

“Good. Ainsley’s been worried.” Rose sighed heavily. “We got into a row this morning. She wanted to stay home today to help take care of Sianin. I wouldn’t let her. But the twins were great. Slept completely through the night and have been quiet all morning.”

“When did my dad get here?”

“He had dinner with us last night, then came by to stay with the twins so I didn’t have to take them on the school run.”

They walked into the house, where Robert was kneeling in front of Sianin to take her shoes off by the door. Sianin seemed to be recounting every single second of her trip to the hospital to her grandfather, who was listening with rapt attention. James was relieved that his daughter seemed to view the experience as an adventure rather than something traumatic.

After slipping off his own shoes, James disappeared down the hall to his and Rose’s bedroom for a much-needed shower.

He stood under the scalding spray, letting the water loosen his tight, tired muscles. He was dead on his feet, and now that the excitement of the hospital visit with Sianin was over, he felt like he would collapse at any moment. And with the distraction of keeping Sianin distracted gone, frantic thoughts began invading the silence.

How had he not realized sooner that something was wrong with Sianin? How had he just written off her symptoms as nothing to be too concerned about? What if he had kept Sianin home from school yesterday but not taken her to the doctor, to let her try to fight off her stomach bug on her own? How long would it have taken her appendix to completely burst? How much worse could she have gotten before it turned into a more serious emergency than it already had been?

Stop it, he growled to himself as his heart began to race. Stop it stop it stop it.

Lightheaded, James turned off the water and stumbled out of the shower.

She’s fine. The doctors caught it in time. Nothing to worry about.

But she’d been in so much pain the night before last. She hadn’t eaten and had curled up against him because she hadn’t been able to bear straightening her body. Why hadn’t he taken her to the hospital then? Instead, he’d made her endure her agony overnight.

Stop it, he repeated firmly, even as his thoughts continued churning. She got surgery, and now she’s fine.

What if they hadn’t been able to schedule the surgery in time? She had gotten in early only through sheer luck. Through a last-minute opening. But what if that hadn’t been the case? Or what if he had taken her to the hospital later that morning and by the time they received the diagnosis, that surgery slot had passed them by? What if they’d had to wait hours and hours and it had been too late and her appendix burst and flooded her stomach with infection and bacteria and she’d gotten so much worse until she’d…

James’s vision was nearly black and he swayed on his feet. He gripped the vanity for balance and slid to the floor, gasping for air in hopes of easing the tightness in his chest.

Stop it, he begged, trying to think through his panic. Trying to banish his spiraling thoughts and all of the hypothetical scenarios that had not and would never happen.

He scrambled for the jeans he’d left on the floor and pulled a pen from the pocket.

“Rose” was all he wrote.

He then closed his eyes and focused on breathing enough to not completely pass out as he desperately tried to shut down the terror that was choking him.

“James!”

He nearly began crying at her voice, but crying required breathing and he currently couldn’t do that.

“James, breathe. Look at me. Look at me.”

Rose cradled his clammy cheeks in her palms. He opened his eyes but her face was fuzzy and speckled with black dots.

“Breathe,” she said calmly but firmly. She took one of his hands and placed it on her chest. Her heart pounded solidly beneath his palm. “Breathe. Inhale… hold it a bit longer… exhale… all of it, love. Inhale… slowly, slowly… exhale… Breathe with me.”

Gradually, he matched the rhythm of his breathing with hers. When he did, his head stopped spinning and her face came into clearer focus. Her eyes were impossibly soft, looking at him in a way that made him feel vulnerable and yet safe.

“Keep breathing with me,” Rose commanded. “A couple more minutes.”

She kept his hand on her chest, letting him feel the rise and fall of her chest and the beating of her heart. As they sat, Rose grabbed his discarded pen and pulled his left arm towards her. Around her name, she began sketching thorny vines. He smiled as he watched the echoing ink bloom across her wrist, too. She added small rose flowers and floating petals to her design until his entire wrist was encircled with black ink.

“Beautiful,” he croaked. “Thanks.” He forced a weak chuckle. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” After a beat, she asked quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“My head… I got stuck in my head,” he said, feeling a bit daft now. He shook his head, as though that would keep the negative thoughts away. “And I couldn’t get out of it even though I knew I was panicking over things that never happened.”

“‘Things’ being everything that happened with Sianin?” Rose guessed.

He nodded. “I couldn’t help but think about everything that could have gone wrong… Well, more wrong than they’d already gone.”

“She’s fine, James,” Rose said gently. Not in condescension, but to assuage any lingering fears he had. “We got her to the doctor and she got the treatment she needed and now she’s home with us where she can rest and heal.”

He nodded, listening to her soothing voice while biting back his retort of, “But what if…”

“She’s safe and healthy and here with us,” Rose repeated, keeping her voice low. “And in a few minutes, we’ll go into the living room and you can see for yourself. She’s fine, love. She’s fine.”

He clutched her hand and gave it a hard squeeze.

“Do you think you can stand?” Rose asked, bringing his hand to her mouth for a kiss.

“I think so.”

She stood first, then reached down to haul him to his feet. His hastily-knotted towel loosened from around his waist and dropped to the floor.

Rose hummed in appreciation, which made him smile. She then led him into their bedroom and gathered up clothes for him to wear.

“I wish I could give you something of mine to wear,” Rose admitted. “When I feel down, I pull on one of your shirts.”

“You could always wrap yourself around me,” he suggested, giving her a wicked wink.

She swatted at his chest and handed him clean clothes. “Get dressed.”

He dutifully pulled on the clothes, then checked his reflection in the mirror. His face was a little pale but he didn’t look too bad. He probably should shave, but decided to let it go until tomorrow.

Rose threaded their fingers together and guided him to the door, but he stopped her with a slight tug.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Anytime,” she replied, lifting onto her toes to press a kiss to his mouth. “Love you.”

James smelled buttery popcorn when he and Rose emerged from their bedroom. Robert was sitting on the sofa with Sianin tucked into his side and a half-empty bowl of popcorn balanced in his lap. The six-year-old was soundly asleep. He smiled at his sleeping child, and the lingering tightness in his chest loosened completely.

Rose sat down on Sianin’s other side. At the shift in the cushions, Sianin awoke. She rubbed her hands into her eyes and blinked blearily at her mother.

“Mummy?” she mumbled, and she scooted into Rose’s lap. “M’sleepy.”

“You can sleep,” Rose whispered, looping her arms around Sianin’s middle.

“M’kay,” she said, closing her eyes and tucking her face into Rose’s chest.

“Love you, baby,” Rose said, kissing the top of Sianin’s head.

James came up and kissed Sianin’s forehead. Her skin no longer burned with fever, and her color was slowly returning. Apart from her lethargy, nothing at all was amiss with her.

The twins were on their stomachs on a quilt in the middle of the living room. James’s heart panged; he felt like he hadn’t seen his babies in weeks, rather than just over a day. He dropped down in front of them and pressed kisses to their fat little cheeks.

“Hello, my darlings,” he sang. “Are we having fun with tummy time? Are we making our necks and backs nice and strong?”

Maddie gurgled and grinned at him, while Hannah stared intently at a frayed thread on the quilt and tried to coordinate her hands to touch it.

He rolled onto his back and hefted Maddie into his arms. He held her aloft and zoomed her in slow circles above his head, making airplane noises while he did so. “Time to land. Baby plane incoming in three… two… one…”

He hugged her tightly to his chest and blew a raspberry into her neck. She squealed loudly and bounced happily against him.

“Love you, Mads,” he murmured into her ear. “So very much.”

He kissed her cheek, then set her back on the quilt and turned to Hannah.

“Does my Hannah-banana want to be a baby airplane?”

He lifted her up, pulling her attention from the thread she was still inspecting, and flew her around and around over his head. She beamed down at him, her mouth opening wide until a glob of spittle fell from her lips and onto his cheek.

“Thanks very much,” James drawled.

“Rather spit than vomit.”

James glanced over and saw Rose watching him, her phone in hand.

“Photo or video?” he asked, jutting his chin towards her mobile.

“Video,” she said. “So I’ve got Hannah slobbering on you all recorded.”

He rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the wet warmth sliding down his face. He eventually brought Hannah to his chest and peppered kisses across her neck and cheeks as well.

James let Rose relax with Sianin on the couch for most of the day. He knew she’d missed their child deeply, and had been worrying about her ever since she’d known Sianin had appendicitis. He, meanwhile, took point with caring for the twins and fetching anything Sianin asked for.

That afternoon, Robert graciously offered to pick Ainsley up from school. When their eldest returned home, she went straight to her sister, who finally had regained a bit of energy.

“Sianin! How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

“I’ve got stitches!” Sianin said excitedly, yanking her shirt up to expose the raw, red wound with little black threads on her lower belly.

“What’s the yellow stuff?” Ainsley asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Iodine,” James answered. “Antiseptic. To keep germs away.”

“Mummy and Daddy said I don’t have to go to school for the whole week!”

“Cool,” Ainsley said, smiling. She tapped at Sianin’s hands to make her drop the hem of her shirt, then she tugged her sister into her arms. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Daddy and I had a sleepover at the hospital,” Sianin said, her voice muffled by Ainsley’s shoulder.

Ainsley pulled back. “Will you tell me all about it?”

Sianin’s entire face lit up. She tugged Ainsley to sit on the floor and launched into the entire tale, exaggerating a few of the details as she went.

Ainsley remained glued to her sister’s side for the rest of the evening, barely letting Sianin get up to use the loo by herself. Sianin reveled in the attention, and in the fact that she was excused from helping with the evening chores. Instead, Ainsley did Sianin’s tasks of loading the silverware into the dishwasher and wiping down the table.

“Time for you to get a shower,” Rose announced to Sianin after she put the leftovers in the fridge.

Sianin scrunched her nose. “You mean time for a bath.”

“Nope, a shower,” Rose said.

“It’s not good for your surgery wound to be sitting in the bath water,” James explained upon seeing his daughter’s confusion. “Though rare, it could get infected from the water that had just cleaned off all the germs from the rest of your body.”

“But… I don’t know how to shower,” Sianin said slowly, looking as though they’d asked her to take the car and drive to the supermarket.

“I’ll help you,” Rose said, smiling reassuringly. “It’s no different from a bath, except you’re standing instead of sitting.”

Sianin followed her mother down the hall to James and Rose’s bedroom.

James and Ainsley, meanwhile, cleaned up the rest of the dishes.

“Hey, Ains, I really appreciate all of your help,” he said when Ainsley pressed the buttons on the dishwasher to program the wash cycle. “With taking care of Sianin and helping out a little extra tonight.”

“Of course,” Ainsley said, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Mum said she needed to take it easy for the next couple of days. Besides, why wouldn’t I take care of her?”

A lump swelled in James’s throat. His baby was so grown-up. He stepped forward to grab Ainsley into a hug.

“Still, I’m very grateful,” he whispered into her hair.

Ainsley gave his middle a long squeeze before relaxing her arms, though she didn’t drop them from around his waist.

“I was so scared when Mum told me Sianin had gotten surgery,” Ainsley admitted, her voice quiet.

“I know,” he said, leaning down to kiss her hair.

“Why did her appendix get infected in the first place?”

“Not really sure,” James said. “It just happens sometimes.”

“Will she be all right?”

“Absolutely. It was a very routine procedure, even if it was a tad scary.”

When Ainsley pulled back, James was startled to see her eyes were red and shining. He reached up and cradled her cheeks, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“She’s okay,” he soothed.

“I know,” Ainsley said, sniffing. She rubbed her hand across her nose.

He kissed her brow one more time. “Want to help me check on the twins?”

She nodded and followed him to the living room to fuss over the two sleeping babies.

oOoOo

Sianin was absolutely thrilled to not have to go to school, though was a little put out when James and Rose insisted that she read with them a few times throughout the day. But otherwise, their days were spent playing games and watching films together to let Sianin rest as much as possible.

“Do they really sleep all day?” Sianin asked as she sat on the floor with her mum and dad to watch them change the twins’ nappies.

James frowned. “You know they do. You’ve seen how much they sleep on the weekends.”

“Everyone sleeps more on the weekends,” Sianin said, rolling her eyes at him.

Rose laughed under her breath.

“What did you think the twins did all day?” James asked.

Sianin’s cheeks went pink, as though she realized how daft she sounded.

“I’m merely curious,” James amended before Sianin could look too embarrassed. “If you’re surprised they’re sleeping, what did you think they did?”

Sianin shrugged, and rather than answer, she mumbled, “And you just… let them sleep?”

James glanced over at Rose, who looked as confused as he felt. Rose rested her hand on Sianin’s thigh.

“Sweetheart, what are you thinking?”

Sianin glanced between the two of them, then fixed her eyes on the babies on the floor. James and Rose stayed silent, sensing that their daughter was considering.

Their patience was rewarded nearly a full minute later when she confessed, “I guess I thought you hugged and kissed and cuddled them all day. They get to spend so much time with you b’cos Ainsley and I have to go to school.”

Understanding dawned on James. She’d been jealous.

“Since they get you during the day, Ainsley and I should get you at night,” Sianin continued. “But you still wanted to play with them at night too, and I didn’t like that.”

“We can’t exactly ignore them during the evenings,” Rose said. “But your daddy and I try to make sure we give you and Ainsley attention when you get home from school. Is it not enough?”

Sianin shrugged, looking a little lost. “I dunno.”

“Is there something Daddy and I can do differently?”

Again, Sianin shrugged. “I dunno.”

The stench of a dirty nappy suddenly filtered through the air, and James glanced down at his babies. Hannah’s face was red as she worked on filling the clean nappy he had just put on her. He stifled a groan of annoyance.

Sianin glared at her baby sister and tugged her shirt collar over her nose.

“They can’t help it, Sian,” Rose chastised gently. “They’re just babies. Besides, everyone poos.”

Sianin’s shoulders slumped. “I know.”

“Shall we say hi to Maddie?” Rose picked the baby up and braced her back against her stomach so she faced Sianin. “Let’s say hi to Sianin, my Maddie. Hi Sianin!”

Rose waved Maddie’s chubby arm at Sianin. Maddie squealed and grinned, wide and joyful. An echoing smile crossed Sianin’s face and she waved back.

“Sweetheart?” Sianin looked at her mother. “Are you… feeling better?”

“Yeah, my tummy doesn’t hurt at all,” she said. Then she quickly added, “But I’m still really tired and maybe sometimes sore, so I don’t think I can make it through school tomorrow.”

James snorted and cleared his throat to mask the sound.

“While I’m glad to hear that, that’s not what I meant. Are you feeling better about the twins being in the family?” Rose asked, jiggling her thigh absently to make Maddie bounce.

Sianin reached forward and took Maddie’s hand in her own and bopped it up and down before tossing it in the air, letting gravity bring it down again. Her flailing fist had nearly struck Maddie in the eye, and before James could admonish Sianin to be careful, Maddie gurgled happily and waved her arm clumsily in the air.

Sianin beamed and took her baby sister’s hand and bounced it before tossing it up again. James bit his lip; on one hand, he was happy to see Sianin voluntarily playing with the baby, but on the other, it would be all too easy to accidentally throw Maddie’s fist into her face.

“Yeah. They’re a lot more fun now,” Sianin admitted. “And a lot cuter. Before, they were red and wrinkly. And floppy. And ugly.”

“They weren’t ugly!” Rose spluttered.

Sianin gave a sheepish smile, one that softened Rose’s expression again.

“They were a tad floppy, weren’t they?” James asked, nudging his shoulder into Rose’s.

“Hmph.”

“But they’re cute now,” Sianin supplied, as if that made up for her comment.

Rose rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further.

oOoOo

Though James loved having Sianin home for the week, it was exhausting. He was used to being able to rest and relax while the twins napped, but Sianin didn’t take naps anymore and therefore wanted him and Rose to do things with her all the time.

She gradually got her energy back, but because there were limitations on her physical activity, James racked every brain cell for ways to keep his six-year-old happily occupied.

He also felt as though he were living in a state of permanent guilt. Whenever he was playing with Sianin, he was guilty that he was neglecting the twins. Whenever he was playing with the twins, he was guilty that he was neglecting Sianin. Whenever he was playing with the twins and Sianin, he was guilty that he was neglecting Rose. Whenever he managed spend time with Rose, he was guilty that he was neglecting his children. And to top it all off, when Ainsley came home from school, he was guilty that he was spending so much time with her sisters.

“Stop thinking so much,” Rose told him when he’d divulged all of this to her. Her tone was half-way between teasing and commanding.

“I’m trying,” he whined, sounding much more pathetic than the situation called for. “But my brain’s way too clever to stop thinking.”

Rose pinched him. “If I go out this afternoon, will I come home to find you passed out from a panic attack because you fretted too much about spending more time with one child than another?”

James tapped his chin. “It’s entirely possible.”

“Well, find some way to deal with it, ‘cos I’ve been looking forward to this lunch date.” She was going out with her old work friend, Penny.

James pouted, but Rose stared at him sternly. He finally broke out into a wide grin.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised, leaning forward to kiss her swiftly. “Go on and have fun.”

“Where are you going, Mummy?” Sianin asked. “Can I come?”

“If you’re well enough to come out with me, I think you’re well enough to go to school.” Rose glanced up at James. “Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, fighting a smile at the horror that slid across Sianin’s face. “You can drop Sianin off on your way out.”

“No, no,” Sianin said quickly. “I-I was just wondering. I don’t really think I feel okay to get through an entire school day. But maybe an hour or so…?”

Rose swallowed down a laugh and bent to kiss Sianin’s forehead. “You stay here and have fun with Daddy and Hannah and Maddie. When Ainsley and I come home, we’ll all take a walk, yeah?”

Though Sianin looked disappointed, she nodded and didn’t argue further. She instead wandered back into the living room to continue watching cartoons.

Rose disappeared down the hall to take care of the laundry that recently finished, while James moved to the kitchen to clean up the pile of dishes from last night and that morning. He filled the dishwasher as much as he could before resigning himself to hand-wash the rest of it.

He had just dunked his hands under the hot soapy water to tackle the caked-on mess from last night’s dinner when he heard whimpering coming from the living room. A second later, Sianin materialized by his side and tapped his hip.

“Daddy, Maddie’s crying.”

“Yep, I hear here. Give me a few minutes, then I’ll come tend to her,” James said. “Be patient for me, please.”

Sianin nodded and turned on her heel, returning to the living room. The volume of the TV increased a few levels.

He scrubbed at the pan for another minute, before rinsing it and setting it on the drying rack. Maddie’s cries had gotten louder by that point, insistent enough that he probably should see to her needs before finishing the dishes.

As he dried his hands, Maddie’s cries suddenly ceased. He dropped the towel and jogged to the living room, but stopped short at the sight. Sianin was sitting on the floor in front of Maddie’s swing, and she was holding the dummy to the baby’s mouth. The baby whined through the dummy before suckling on it again, quieting.

“There we go,” Sianin crooned, petting Maddie’s hair gently. “All better. No more crying now.”

Maddie wriggled and whimpered softly, but looked up at Sianin and sucked aggressively on her dummy. She obviously wanted something, but was content enough to not make a huge fuss about it yet.

“See, you’re okay,” Sianin said, echoing the words she must have heard James and Rose say a million times.

James’s heart burst from his chest, and he silently tiptoed down the hall. Rose was in the middle of folding a t-shirt when he ducked into their room.

Without ceremony, he reached for her arm and said, “Rose, you’ve got to come see this. Right now.”

Rose set the half-folded shirt to the side. “James, what…?”

“Come look,” he urged. “It’s Sianin. Nothing bad,” he hastily added.

He tugged her down the hall and to the entryway of the living room. Sianin was in the same position, holding the baby’s dummy to her mouth and stroking her plump cheek as she repeated phrases like “You’re okay” and “Daddy’s gonna be here” and “No need to cry” over and over again.

Rose clasped her hands to her chest and beamed.

“She’s never done this before,” she whispered to him.

“I know. This is brilliant.”

Sianin heard them and looked over, snatching her hand away from the baby.

“Thank you for keeping her calm,” James said, stepping into the room. “That was a very lovely thing to do for your baby sister. And I appreciate it a lot too. Thank you.”

A slow, proud smile stole across Sianin’s face.

“You know, you’re getting pretty good at this big sister thing,” James said, and impossibly, Sianin’s grin widened. He reached into the swing for Maddie, who began whimpering in earnest when her dummy fell out of her mouth and onto the floor. To the baby, he asked, “What’s the matter, darling? Eh?”

Maddie’s face crumpled and a tear leaked down her face.

“Oh, sweetheart.” James cradled her close and wiped the tear as it rolled down her temple. “Let’s figure out what you want.”

He curled a knuckle and brought it to Maddie’s mouth. She clamped down on it and sucked hard, then wailed when it wasn’t what she wanted.

“Want me to feed her?” Rose asked, opening her arms.

“Mind if I do it?” James asked sheepishly.

“Not at all. I’m gonna finish the laundry.”

James took Maddie to the kitchen, and Sianin followed.

“Can I help?”

James smiled. “Sure.” He then walked her through the steps of preparing a bottle. When it was ready, he asked, “Would you like to feed her?”

Sianin considered for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ll help you hold her so she doesn’t hurt your surgery incision,” James said, gesturing for Sianin to move to the living room.

She clambered up onto the couch, and he rearranged some pillows and blankets to pad the right side of her stomach and to give a shelf to rest most of the baby’s weight on. He carefully positioned Maddie into Sianin’s lap.

“Is that comfortable for you?” he asked. Sianin nodded. He repositioned her arm so that the baby’s head was a bit higher, then he handed the bottle to Sianin. “Just make sure the milk completely covers the top, and it’ll be fine. Mads knows what to do.”

As if to show off, Maddie found the nipple and latched on, sucking greedily. She let little out grunts and sighs as her jaw worked frantically at the bottle.

“Blimey, you’re starved. I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t realize how hungry you were.”

James perched beside Sianin, ready to assist as needed. But mostly he watched his two daughters together, his heart growing ten times its size at the picture they made.

“Love you, Sian,” he murmured to her, kissing the top of her head.

“Love you, Daddy,” she replied. Then she leaned down and whispered into Maddie’s ear, “Love you, Maddie.”

Tears pricked James’s eyes as his entire body unwound from an invisible tension he hadn’t realized was there. He blinked rapidly to dispel the moisture, but his nose and eyes burned with tears of relief. Logically, he knew Sianin would adjust to her baby sisters. But practically, he had been so concerned that Sianin would never accept the twins into the family. Would never enjoy their presence. Would never love them.

“Does milk really fill her tummy?” Sianin asked, bringing him out of his head. “If all I ate was milk, I’d be starving all the time.”

“This milk isn’t like the milk you drink,” James said, clearing his throat of the watery phlegm that had built up. “This is full of vitamins and proteins and nutrients that fills her up so she’s not always hungry. Besides, her tummy is much smaller than yours.”

He reached over and rested his hand on Maddie’s stomach, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. The baby unlatched from the bottle and beamed, dribbling milk all down her chin.

Sianin grimaced. “Ew. You’re messy.”

“We’ll clean her up when she’s done,” James promised. “Try and get her to finish the bottle, if she wants it.”

Maddie didn’t, as it turned out. She suckled lazily, but kept unlatching to smile up at Sianin. After five minutes of this, James took Maddie from Sianin. He hoisted her to his shoulder and rubbed and patted her back until he was rewarded with a series of wet-sounding burps.

“Bet you feel loads better, eh?” James asked, kissing Maddie’s temple. Maddie turned her head and rested her cheek on his shoulder, flashing a grin. She reached out and grabbed at his lower lip. He pretended to bite her fingers, making her shriek with delight.

“What do I do with this?” Sianin asked, waving the mostly-empty bottle at him.

“Go set it by the sink,” he said, groaning when he realized the dish water was probably cold. “Did you enjoy feeding Maddie?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad,” Sianin said, unceremoniously dumping the blankets and pillows on the floor as she stood.

Rose left shortly thereafter for her afternoon out, leaving him with napping twins and a restless six-year-old. He kept her occupied for the early part of the afternoon, when they started a roast in the slow cooker and then made a batch of biscuits. But once they were finished in the kitchen, she grew increasingly bored.

After rejecting all of his entertainment ideas, Sianin eventually decided she wanted to play “beauty regimen”.

That was how James found himself sitting on the floor of the living room, having his finger- and toenails painted bright colors by Sianin.

Why does Rose even have this color? he grumbled to himself as Sianin painted his toes a vibrant neon yellow.

“Looks great,” he said aloud when Sianin screwed the top back onto the bottle of nail varnish. And honestly, for a six-year-old’s handiwork, it actually did look pretty good. “Your turn. Pick a color.”

She picked equally-bright colors, and settled in to allow him to buff and file her nails, then paint them.

After their nails had dried, James marched Sianin into his and Rose’s en suite. He put away the nail varnish and instead grabbed Rose’s makeup kit.

“Only a little bit,” James said as he hoisted Sianin to sit on the vanity. “We don’t want to use up all of Mummy’s makeup, do we?”

“Noooo,” Sianin said gravely, shaking her head.

“Let’s do some eyeliner first,” he suggested, uncapping the thin pencil.

He spent the next several minutes painting Sianin’s face with makeup, keeping everything subtle so she didn’t end up looking like a clown. He was quite pleased with the final product.

“Ready to see how you look?”

Sianin nodded eagerly and spun around to face the mirror. Her face lit up with happiness and she squealed, “Oh, Daddy! Look!”

“Do you like it?” he asked, smug.

“Yes! I’m beautiful!”

“You’re beautiful without makeup too,” he said, pecking a kiss to the back of her head.

“How’d you learn makeup?” Sianin asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I’ve been watching your mum apply makeup for years and years, haven’t I? I’ve learned a trick or two.”

“You put makeup on now,” Sianin commanded. “Please?”

“Oh, fine,” he sighed. “D’you want to put it on me?”

Sianin shook her head, content to watch him.

James quickly outlined his eyes, applied a bit of foundation, and shaped his brows. Sianin watched with rapt attention until he deemed himself done.

“Selfie time,” James proclaimed. “I want a picture with my beautiful baby girl.”

Sianin giggled and knelt in front of him on the vanity. With the added height, she was nearly as tall as he was. He rested his chin on her shoulder, then took a series of photos of the two of them pulling all kinds of silly faces.

He only stopped when movement in the mirror caught his eye. Rose was standing against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of herself and a small smile on her lips.

Sianin spotted her mother through the mirror. “Mummy! Aren’t we so beautiful?”

Rose stepped into the en suite and asked, “Did you and Daddy get a makeover?”

“Uh huh! And we painted our fingers and toes!”

She splayed the digits for emphasis. James saw Rose glance down at his toes, which he wiggled in return.

“How lovely. And yes, you look absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart,” she said. “Did you have fun today with Daddy?”

“Yeah! He’s the best daddy ever!”

James’s throat constricted as Sianin leaned over and hugged him. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then scooted herself off the vanity. He helped her down, then she jogged out of the room, saying something about going to show Ainsley her makeup and nails.

Makeup bottles and powder dust were strewn across the vanity. James turned to clean it up, but Rose grabbed his wrists, halting him.

“God, I love you.” She surged onto her toes and planted a hard kiss to his mouth.

He froze in surprise for a millisecond before returning the firm pressure of the kiss. Rose wrapped her arms around his shoulder while a hand went to the back of his head, holding him in place as her lips hungrily pulled at his.

“Rose, what…?”

“I love you,” she rasped between kisses.

“Love you, too,” he managed to mumble.

Her tongue wasted no time in demanding entry, skating across the seam of his lips until he parted his lips for her. He groaned and clutched at her hips as her tongue slid against his, teasing yet demanding. Fire roiled through his veins, so intense that it left his head spinning and his body aching.

He caught her chin between his fingers to pause their kiss, if only to give him a moment to catch his breath. “If I’d known you had a thing for men wearing makeup, I’d’ve dolled up for you ages ago.”

She laughed, half-heartedly smacking his shoulder. “I have a thing for my sexy husband doing literally anything for his children because he utterly adores making them happy.”

He giggled high in his throat.

“Seriously James. I am five seconds away from telling the girls to play outside so I can have my filthy way with you. You have no idea how sexy you become simply by being amazing with our kids.”

He squeaked as his arousal sharpened. “Raincheck? For tonight?”

She whined and dropped her head to his shoulder. “I’m going to die waiting that long. I want you so badly.”

His brain worked rapidly and he tried to listen past the pulse in his ears and the sound of Rose’s unsteady breaths. He heard Ainsley and Sianin talking in the living room.

“Give me a minute,” he whispered.

“James…”

“Shh. Wait here.”

He crept out of the en suite and into their bedroom. The door was wide open. He stepped over to it and peered down the hall. He couldn’t see his children, but he heard the twins squealing happily and Ainsley and Sianin cooing at them. He slowly shut the bedroom door and locked it. Then he went back into their en suite and shut that door as well.

“Let’s make it quick,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head. “My guess is we have five minutes.”

Her eyes somehow lit up and darkened at the same time.

“Yeah?” she breathed, her eyes raking up and down his bare chest.

The sheer desire in her gaze helped in the process of hardening him. They shed their clothes in record time before James dropped to his knees in front of Rose, tapping at her calf to get her to widen her stance.

“Don’t make me come,” she said as she complied.

“Just helping you along,” he said, taking his half-hard cock in hand.

He trailed kisses across her hips as he firmly stroked himself. Then he moved to where she wanted him. She hooked her knee over his shoulder, balancing on one foot as he worshiped her. He kissed and licked at her, using her breathy pants and moans to help himself along.

“Ready whenever you are,” she ground out, rocking her hips.

He stood and pressed himself into her hip as he claimed her mouth. She tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“In, in, in,” she demanded, breaking apart to gulp down a lungful of air. She took his cock in her hand and gave him a few slow strokes, as though testing his readiness. He hissed and arched into her touch. The sound choked into a groan as the tip of him slid between her legs and bumped against her entrance.

“Shit, condom,” he said, tensing and pulling back.

“I’m fine,” she said, clutching his shoulder to keep him where he was. He paused, dubious. But try as he might, he couldn’t think clearly enough to remember the last time she’d had her period. “Honestly. I’m due for my period any day now. Shouldn’t be fertile.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. He let his hips inch forward as she guided him inside of her. “Love you, Rose.”

“Love you… ohhhh.”

He slid into her, inch by inch, and clenched his teeth to hold himself still. It had been so long since he’d made love with her without the barrier of a condom, and he wished they could do this more often.

He squeaked and thrust shallowly when she lifted one leg off the ground to wrap around his hips, allowing him to slide impossibly deeper into her.

“Move,” she commanded, tilting her head back.

James gripped the ledge of the vanity behind Rose for balance as he pulled out and thrust in. The small of her back hit the vanity, rattling the containers of makeup strewn across the surface.

“S-sorry,” he stammered. “You all right?”

“Yeah, keep going. God, this feels so fucking good. We need to do this more often.”

“What, shag?”

“Piss off,” she gasped. “A quickie shag because you’re too goddamn sexy for your own good.”

“Pot, kettle.” He bit his bottom lip to muffle the growl that was building in his chest. She was clinging to him so tightly, the friction was unbelievable.

“I should look into alternative birth control,” Rose mused, her nails biting into his shoulders. “Pill makes me feel too weird. But I like the feel of you without a condom.”

“Can we resume this conversation later? You’re bruising my ego that you’re still capable of speech.”

“Well, so are you.”

He couldn’t help the grin, and he ducked down to catch her lips in a sloppy kiss before he adjusted his grip on the vanity for leverage to set hard and fast rhythm.

It was not the most coordinated lovemaking session they’d ever had; it never was when they were standing. However, it was fun and felt unbelievably good.

Rose rubbed her clit without much finesse, muffling her noises against his shoulder as she clung to him. James thought he might bite through his lip trying to keep silent.

Though much to his frustration, he was so distracted with listening for the kids that he kept losing the mounting pleasure. The third time he felt his imminent orgasm slip away, he huffed a curse and arched his hips harder and faster to chase down the edge again.

“Relax,” Rose whispered. She cupped his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his lower lip, urging him to stop biting. “Be here. With me. No distractions. Nothing but us, love.”

He exhaled raggedly.

“Slow it down,” she said, stopping all movements of her hips to pause their coupling. He slipped out of her, and he winced. She smoothly guided him back in, but didn’t continue their previous tempo. “I love you, James.”

“Love you, too,” he said, nuzzling his nose against hers. He pressed a small kiss to her lips then rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to revel in the sensations building up within him. The feel of her skin sliding against his. The puff of her breath against his lips. The sound of her panting. The way her hands gripped his shoulders, his back, his hair, his neck. The hard knot of tension in his belly.

“Just be with me,” she repeated, lazily kissing his lips before she ground her hips slowly against his. “Nothing in the world but us, my love.”

He smiled into the kiss, and matched the motion of her hips. Their slow pace gradually sped up, and he sighed as he lost himself in her.

“I’m gonna come,” she breathed into his ear, gripping his hair tightly. Her nails scraped across his scalp, making him shudder.

He latched his mouth to the join of her neck and shoulder, scraping his teeth across the soft, supple skin. She let out a moan that was far too loud, but he didn’t care. Evidently, neither did she, as she moaned again, higher-pitched this time.

“Oh, God,” she gasped. Her entire body tightened around him. “James!”

“Come on, love,” he mumbled into her skin.

He arched his hips harder, trying to hit the spot deep inside her that always made her cry out. She let out a muffled squeal, as though remembering she ought to keep quiet, and her chest flushed red as her muscles gripped his cock tightly.

His belly clenched in reply.

She broke around him, bowing into him and clutching his arse, pulling him deeper into her. The feel of her pulsing around him and whimpering into his shoulder sent him hurtling after her. He released into her with a garbled grunt, trembling with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he rasped, nearly wheezing with the effort of staying quiet.

Rose hummed, the sound low, sleepy, and satisfied. His knees wobbled as he stood against her, panting and breathing her in until his vision stopped swimming.

“That was fuckin’ brilliant,” Rose slurred, nestling her face into the crook of his neck.

“Mmm,” he agreed. “I did not expect my wife to jump me like that, but I’m glad she did. Think that’ll tide you over ‘til tonight?”

She snorted. “You want to go again tonight?”

“Don’t you?” he crooned sweetly, and he arched his hips against her.

A purr rumbled from her throat as an aftershock rippled through her. “You are insatiable.”

“Pot, kettle,” he repeated.

She pinched his stomach lightly. “We should clean up and go back out there before the kids get suspicious.”

“But you’re so warm,” he whined, hugging her tighter to him.

“We’ll resume this tonight,” she promised, then she tapped at his shoulder to get him to step back.

He did, wincing as he slipped out of her, but he kept his hands at her hips to balance her as he stopped supporting the majority of her weight.

They made quick work of cleaning up, including washing off the smeared make-up from both of their faces. When they were appropriately dressed and their breathing had returned to normal, they ventured out of their bedroom.

Ainsley and Sianin were sitting on the floor with Hannah and Maddie. They looked over when James and Rose approached.

“Now that you’re done doing sex, can we go for a walk?”

James’s cheeks and necks burned, and he saw Ainsley slap her hand to her forehead.

“Sianin!” she hissed.

“What?”

“It’s a private thing Mummy and Daddy do. We shouldn’t talk about it,” Ainsley explained.

Sianin furrowed her brow, then looked to her mortified parents. “You said it’s a healthy and natural thing people in love do.”

“It is,” James said, his voice a bit squeakier than he would have liked. “But your sister is also right. It’s generally considered to be a private activity that isn’t really talked about in front of other people. Obviously, if you have questions, you can ask. But when referring to a couple who is engaging in the act of sex, it’s consider impolite to mention it. At least in their presence.”

Rose pinched his waist, which seemed to finally put an end to the stream of words flowing from his lips. He snapped his mouth shut hard enough that his teeth clacked, and he tried to ignore the fire pounding at his cheeks and ears.

Sianin considered them all for a moment, then shrugged.

“Also, it’s have sex,” Ainsley chimed. “Not do sex.”

“But why? That makes no sense,” Sianin argued. “How do you have an activity? You do an activity.”

Ainsley rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated huff. “Because the English language is stupid sometimes, that’s why.”

Rose let out a snort. “Do we still want to go for a walk?” she asked of their eldest girls.

“Yeah!” Sianin said, jumping to her feet.

“Slowly,” Rose reprimanded. “Don’t pull your stitches.” Sianin ignored her and raced to the front door for her shoes. “Sianin, slowly!” Rose snapped.

“She’ll be fine,” James said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.

“Ought to put her on a leash for this walk,” Rose muttered.

James knocked his hip into hers, and Rose knocked it right back.

Sianin returned to the living room, her shoes tied and a light jacket zipped up. “Ready!”

“Do you promise to walk?” James asked, giving her a stern look. “Absolutely no running whatsoever?”

“Yes, yes, I promise,” she said impatiently.

“Okay. Can you and Ainsley be big helpers and open up the twins’ pram?” he asked.

She trotted back to the front door, where they heard her relay the instructions to Ainsley. He and Rose, meanwhile, walked to the twins. They were awake and staring up at the ceiling.

“You’ll have to be quieter when we do sex tonight,” James whispered to Rose as they each picked up a baby.

She snorted and smacked his arm half-heartedly. “Me? You’re much louder than I am.”

“Actually, you’re both loud,” Ainsley said, making them squeak and spin on their heels. “Can we go now before Sianin leaves you behind?”

“We’re sorry,” James blurted, “about… earlier. What you heard… with me and your mum…” From the corner of his eye, he saw Rose pinch the bridge of her nose and shake her head at him.

Ainsley giggled. “It’s fine. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Honestly, it’s adorable how in love you are. If not a bit sickening.”

She stuck her tongue out at them and winked. James and Rose followed her to the front door, where the double-pram was waiting. They buckled the twins in and draped a blanket over the babies, then made sure the baby bag was stocked before they left the house and enjoyed the mild May evening.

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