#(especially given how she tries to help him with Ruth)

[joons]

barbie is a fun, clever, visual feast with some lovely moments that i am happy to see resonate with people. the movie is definitely worth seeing. but i would only give the film a 3.5/5.

i am now going to talk at length about my thoughts on the film, most of which will be an attempt to understand what is being said here.

i think barbie's acceptance of the gender wars as inevitable and perpetual ends up being more regressive than a lot of what it's trying to critique. it mostly ends in a healthier place, but along the way, it has little ability to make meaning outside of that frame. i loved the interactions barbie had with older women, particularly ruth, and i think there's a wonderful message there about girls needing both aspirational role models and grounded older mentors who can help them manage any obstacles they find. what a wonderful theme, and one that is given subtle, genuine weight, which i prefer over the more overt, "telling" moments the film does throughout. but a lot of the story gets sidetracked in assuming women's role is tricking men (a role foisted on them as a reaction to the patriarchy, so don't blame them) and that any true reconciliation or mutual support between men and women is only based on pity. i think the film could have landed better as a reflection on womanhood if it actually dared to be about ... women. if it could imagine women as more. if it truly tried to show the complex roller-coaster of emotions instead of staying stuck in one gear.

i have seen people say how ironic it is that ken is the best part of a barbie film, but it's true, on even deeper levels than people realize. why is ken the only one with true agency, whose feelings are true to himself and not a reflection of someone playing with him? where is the boy playing with his sister's dolls and desperately trying to understand why he feels so inadequate? why are those questions never asked in a film that generates endless questions and observations about human frailty? none of the barbies are capable of doing anything for themselves; they are easily brainwashed by the kens, and all it takes to shake them out of it is a speech about how "complex" women are. kens just have to accept themselves as they are to be happy; barbies have to believe they are doing something productive and worthwhile. except main barbie, who feels like she can't do anything meaningful, because this movie thinks the different barbies are genuinely incapable of doing something if they don't have an outfit to go with it. if the point is that she feels less than because she has seen the real world and feels unprepared for it, well, none of the other barbies would have fared better. astronaut barbie couldn't get a job at nasa, just like beach ken can't get a job at beach. the one time we see barbie make a choice for herself, unprompted by others, unburdened from her anxieties, is to ... go to the gynecologist. um. empowering. i guess.

(i think the ken/barbie plot would have worked better if they were "packaged" together. there's no real reason this ken has the crisis, why barbie feels any special responsibility for him.)

the fact that barbie begins to feel angst and anxiety as a result of real women's insecurities is fascinating; in being the avatar of girls' hopes, she also becomes their "competition," a symbol of all their grief and all their inadequacies. maybe you can see how kens get off easy here; they are not evolved enough; they will never be chosen by the gods as friends or idols or objects of hatred. that could have been explored more, especially through the mother-daughter relationship. why do teenagers begin pulling away from their mothers? perhaps for the same reason they grow out of barbie, because they want to be something beyond the touchstones of femininity they have. they want to be their own person and have to separate themselves, but the girls their age are obsessed with tearing each other down and taking their insecurities out on each other because they feel broken. barbie was experiencing that rejection for the first time. the film could have had something to say about how women can be cruel to one another as they struggle to find their own paths, but it's understandable and part of learning to identify what feels real and true to you. but none of the human characters have enough screentime to address any of this.

i liked the point that women dolls are saddled with the same impossible standards that many women feel. they're blamed in society for women's insecurities and also become totemic, like, "we gave you barbie, what more do you want?" i get that, i get the frustration that animates some of the plot, but i couldn't relate to it all that much. but it does ring true for me that b a r b i e as a concept, a company, a doll, is not the problem or the solution. she's just cool.

("why not make barbies that are relatable and normal?" the movie suggests. oh my god....... 💀 💀 💀 what year is this?)

i think allan (almost inadvertently, or at least subtly) makes the movie's best point: the lack of expectations can be an incredible gift. without them, you are free to become your own person on your own time instead of feeling less than because you're comparing yourself to others. we must all be allan. allan is our friend.

there are honestly so many smart concepts and sly commentary here that feel buried in Telling Not Showing; like the ken war was SO funny, and it would have hit hard if we saw the barbies struggling to find a way to understand and interact with the kens ... and they decide to play nice before realizing jealousy and competition seem to motivate the kens ... and then the kens do the most ken thing and do a normandy reenactment to gain women's attention. that's so archetypal, such a funny nod to the cyclical weirdness of human history, to the idea that women (and men) work within the system that is created for or against them, using the tools they have, living up to the gender roles/models they've been taught! but because the characters are like "i know what we will do. we will manipulate them and then they will go to war because they are men!" it's like ... ugh. it messes up the pacing of that whole sequence. it kills the surprise and delight of watching it unfold, so all we can react to are the sight gags (giving mouth to mouth to the horse lmaoooo) and the juxtoposition of war film and gene kelly musical. but the actual gender role commentary is stated so explicitly, afraid to question itself, afraid to say anything surprising or insightful, that it amounts to putting everyone right back in their box. the film tries to balance this at the end, pitying patriarchy as a cope against death, trying to empower the kens to be themselves, but it refuses to imagine any true healing or change, anything beyond "well, kids need to imagine barbieland as a matriarchal utopia, even though we have established that doing so leaves them unprepared for a world of unfair standards they can't control." all women can expect to do is fight for a land of dreams, but always know that the most that land can achieve is creating an image that will be sold back to them as empowerment. genuinely, what the FUCK is the point of this film. oh, it's too hard to say that imagination is what makes us human and that ultimately means more than the object. again, the film will outright state some version of this idea ("I want to do the imagining, I don't want to be the idea"), but every other part of the plot undercuts it with its own failure to imagine women as more than reactive.

and it had the chance to let women be real characters! (hell, does this movie even remember that barbie has Lore, a Family, a Last Name, that she hasn't been "just a doll" in a long, long time?) but the film seems to set up plots that would have given us organic interactions and fully realized characters. i got so excited when america's character, gloria, showed up, because okay, we're going to be able to explore womanhood through the eyes of a real person, we're going to see the push and pull between idealized utopias and dreams and real-world survival and hope and despair by learning more about her. but no. gloria is there to give a speech that doesn't sum up her life and her passions but all women in very generic terms. it's not experiential, it's definitional (and it's a definition built on what a woman is not -- not this, not this, can't be that). it is relying on the audience to point and say, "i recognize that," instead of building gloria as a person we love and know and laugh and cry with. you are building a wall between the story and your audience; if they never had "complicated feelings" about barbie, if they aren't sure why gloria cares so much about the doll while her daughter has such a negative reaction, then it is not going to let them in and explain that. it is going to say, "if you don't get it, you are brainwashed, probably, or a man, and you don't want to see it, and i am not going to open it up to you because it is an exclusive club, intentionally, because it is the only club we have, and i am not going to open it up to further ridicule or commentary, even though that is what this entire movie is doing." gah! tell a story! tell a STORY! surprise me! why are we just pointing at things?

i'm telling you, when barbie sits on that bench and has an interaction with an older lady, who is totally at ease in her own skin, who is un-selfconscious and not angry and peaceful, it brought immediate tears to my eyes. it was such a breath of fresh air. a real person, reacting in a way that surprises and moves you. what was her story. who is she. what is her secret to confidence and balance, and how can women share that with one another. no no no, go go go, take on capitalism and patriarchy until you're too tired to remember how to laugh, this is healthy and good. @~@

ultimately i am talking about the themes i wish were there or wish were more emphasized because the messages that are there feel contradictory. for instance, the kens' patriarchy is shallow and cartoonish, both in barbieland and the real world (that mattel executives were just as stupid and pointless as TOY PEOPLE was so INTERESTING to me; like what does it mean that men can still "play," and get paid enormously for it? but it's kind of just "isn't this dumb"), and the barbies are more than happy to manipulate their kens' emotions to get what they want. america ferrera tells barbie she is justified to feel mad at ken for what he did to her and her friends. but in the next scene, barbie comforts ken and connects to his feelings of vulnerability. it feels like the movie is rolling its eyes through the scene, when it could have been a really beautiful, sweet moment where humanity is recognized as universal, a true "man was not meant to be alone" moment of meaning, turned inside out and shaken and reconfigured as complementary and supportive, where barbie and ken realize community is crucial to weathering their own insecurities and flawed emotional responses, and maybe you can need someone without making it your whole personality. maybe the fear of connection is something all girls start to struggle with as they become teenagers, and they need that world where men don't want anything from them, and they want to cling to it a little longer than necessary. but because it's been bookended with "of course he's going to cry about it, don't give in, it's not your job to support him," the emotional core of the scene is undercut by shallower stuff. the scene genuinely reads like "placating men is important and you should do it," which is INSANE to me, but that's what is coming across with the wild whiplash between rage and sweetness, denying kens any humanity the whole film and trying to patch it up right at the end. barbie's ennui stems from the fact that a weary mother is playing with her, but the rest of the barbies - and the film as a whole - feel puppeted by the surly teenager who has not moved beyond rage-filled one-liners. i don't like that this is the case because those moments of human connection (barbie with the older woman on the bench, the mother-daughter relationship, even ken trying to understand why he cares so much what other people think of him) are so great. we're just supposed to ... not apply compassion to characters the film doesn't like. and we are supposed to like the characters we do like not because we are experiencing their lives with them but because they are saying The Right Things Loudly.

(and don't you love how the film even has a prepackaged response to being criticized? wanting men to be real people is brainwashed behavior. wanting women to have thoughts that go beyond regurgitated feminism 101 catchphrases is asking too much of a plastic toy. it's just a reflection or reality, see, but it's also exaggerated satire. i think the glib tone just crept into everything and made for some wild subtext that i don't even think the film recognizes.)

greta gerwig is more successful at dealing with the tension between made "things" and real life in little women. jo, as a stand-in for louisa may alcott, is resistant to getting jo "married off" and only caves in to get the book published. but the life and joy still sing in the scene where she reunites with bhaer, even when the audience is already primed to see it as artificial and cynical. the play between what jo says she wants and what jo indulges in is obvious; we can find joy and light even in the things that feel like a compromise of our principles. sometimes they are better than life, better than what we could imagine, they take on lives of their own, they become little women who exist off the page and no longer have to carry the burden of being "The One Narrative For Women" because they spark thousands of other stories and hopes and longings that the author doesn't have to be responsible for. as much as i waffle on whether i like the ending of gerwig's little women, it's clear that part of greta is throwing up her hands, in a "but what do i know?" gesture ... indulgent romance might just be the little antidote we need to stave off the lonely feelings we get sometimes. it's not weak, it's not a compromise, it's just cool.

for whatever reason, she doesn't bring that same verve or ambiguity to this film; she can't infuse barbie with meaning beyond what her critics say about her. barbies, like women, have to be perfect, but they can't be. they can't be totems, but they are. we must get away from them, but we can't. they are creations of men, but women can't think their way out of the box. barbie is an immortal ideal, but none of what she symbolizes has any impact.

"that's the point. it's complicated," greta says to me. "my job here is done."

"but declaring things complicated is not a point of view!" i yell back. "you didn't do anything!"

maybe i am too invested in barbie to even recognize that people have such negative feelings about her. maybe i have seen this premise done better in the lego movie, teen beach movie, barbie: life in the dreamhouse! (all of which genuinely love toys and kids/teen media and are not using them to sort out their own disgruntled feelings — and have a genuine belief that even flawed media bankrolled into existence can be real art, something gerwig seems so skeptical about that she lets her ambivalence about taking on this particular directorial gig become the driving tension in the story. how ... relatable?) maybe i have unresolved issues with greta's themes from little women and am now realizing how little she seems to get the things that matter to me, and we just need to part ways.

as anthony lane writes in the new yorker, "maybe the movie is for greta gerwig. and, by extension, for anyone as super-smart as her—former barbiephiles, preferably, who have wised up and put away childish things."

to that, i'd put a quote from c.s. lewis, whose work greta will soon try to get her hands around: "when i became a man i put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up." the soul shudders at a narnia, a barbieland, a march family home, that are only notable for how "complicated" our feelings about them are supposed to be, and i think that puts my thoughts on greta's work into words.

now ... proust barbie, i would buy.

[mallowmelt-down]

I just went to see the Barbie movie for the second time and I’ve been wondering how the KOTLC gang would react to it so here’s my thoughts.

Keefe: He ordered an ‘I am Kenough’ sweatshirt before the credits even finished. He definitely says that Ken is literally him. He memorized Ken’s entire song and of course he used his mimicking skills to do it in Ryan Gosling’s voice. Secretly, it was hard for him as an Empath to watch the movie, especially with Sophie and her strong emotions sitting next to him.

Sophie: She thinks it’s an absolute masterpiece and 100% cried during the Billie Eilish song “What Was I Made For” given her own past with the Black Swan. Since none of her friends truly understands what it means to be human, she called Amy that night and they chatted about it for hours. She would definitely sneak out to the Forbidden Cities to see it again with Amy.

Fitz: He has had some experience with Barbie during his trips as a kid trying to find Sophie so he vaguely understands the importance of the movie. He respects it even though he didn’t relate to it. He pretends he understands the confusing human jokes despite the fact he doesn’t get it at all.

Biana: She totally fell in love with all the different fashions and tried to recreate some of the outfits afterwards. She found the human interpretation of mermaids hilarious when she saw mermaid Barbie. She was shocked by the treatment of women in the real world and had to ask her mom about it later.

Dex: He was forced to take the triplets with him so he spent most of the movie trying to get the three of them to stay in their seats. His favorite character was Allan and he broke into an ATM machine later so he could go buy an Allan doll. He noticed Sophie was sad after the movie so he dyed Iggy the Barbie pink color the next day to cheer her up.

Tam: He insists that he hated it and the pink gave him a headache but truthfully enjoyed the musical numbers and secretly added all the songs to his playlist. He will also put the songs on blast whenever he visits his parents to piss them off. Linh forced him to buy her a Barbie right after the movie.

Linh: She liked it and was very amused by the fake waves on the beach. She was disappointed to hear that the pooping dog Barbie toy was discontinued since she desperately wanted to buy it. She found some Barbie inspired pet outfits to force poor Princess Purrfins into later, with Tam’s reluctant help.

Marella: She loved all of it, especially the cute Kens. Dex helped her hack into the human Internet afterwards so she could read about all the drama behind the scenes. She spends an entire ability lesson with Fintan talking about it, much to Fintan’s disdain.

Wylie: He thought it was very thought provoking and Maruca teases him when he tries to analyze the deep symbolism of the movie with her. He decides to take an intensive human studies class after watching it and sees that there may be more to humans than he thought. Like many others, he cried over the idea of his mom being just a girl at some point in her life.

Maruca: She added a pink streak to her hair for a week afterwards. She really liked the Barbies’ blunt honesty during the Nobel Prize scenes. She later tried to make a smaller version of the pink Barbieland heart border with her Psionipath ability for fun.

Stina: She’ll tell Sophie it was a dumb human movie but genuinely enjoyed the human world scenes the most. She really related to Sasha the most.

Elwin: As the only adult who attended, he got the tickets for everyone, held seats, and made sure everyone had popcorn. His favorite character was weird Barbie and wants to start remodeling his house like hers. He joins Dex and buys as many Barbies as he can hold to take back to the Lost Cities. It was hard for him to watch as a doctor when Ruth said “Humans only have one end.”

Comment your own headcannons, I would love to see them!

[quietparanoiac]

— Your procedures and systems are Victorian, at best, and you're partnered with a nun! — Exactly, no one can resist a wimple, and we have the best cleanup rate in the county.

Sam Gillespie & Sister Boniface in season one of Sister Boniface Mysteries (2022–)

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 2

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! This is kind of consuming me so you’ll be getting these pretty often, I hope! thanks to @sancocnutclub for all her encouragement ;)

rated T / 2.2k words / part 1 / AO3

He didn’t wake until mid morning the next day, and was still fairly fatigued, but otherwise felt alright—just a bit tender about the middle. 

A shower helped dissolve most of the lingering soreness, and he took some time in front of the mirror to look for any changes. 

Given that his stomach had never returned to its previous hardened state, it was hard to notice any discernible change in shape, but when he poked around, there was definitely a rounded area that hadn’t been there before. 

He also took a moment to memorize his body as it was; it wouldn’t be long before the babes made their presence visibly known, and the changes that happened while pregnant with Hope were still fresh in his mind. He was both glad that Belle was keeping track of his stats, and already dreading it. 

But she was probably waiting for him, so he needed to get a move on—and something to eat; he was starting to feel peckish, but couldn’t tell whether or not it was more than usual. 

His normal jeans still fit comfortably, albeit a hair snug. It wouldn’t last long, but he’d relish it while it did. At least his shirts would last longer; he’d found a new appreciation for the forgiving cotton knits of this realm in his second trimester. 

Emma was already at the station when he got downstairs, but she’d left behind plenty of pancakes, and he ate a few more than normal; he wasn’t sure how to interpret that. 

Before heading to the library, he went to pick up Hope from her sleepover with her grandparents. David greeted him at the door, with tiny Ruth asleep on his chest.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, hardly able to keep his eyes away from Killian’s midsection.

“Fine, as far as I could tell. Weird, but fine.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, thankfully, but I’m sure there will be plenty of aches and pains later.”

David winced. “Man, am I glad they asked you and not me. This one was enough,” he said, patting Ruth’s back gently.

“I don’t disagree, but…”

“But you feel like you owe them,” David finished. 

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’ll be the other way around by the end of this, but we’ll help you out as much as we can.”

“I appreciate it—and I’m sure we’ll need it with this one,” he replied, nodding at Hope, who was attempting to escape out a window.

She was easily wrangled, though, and happy to see him. He had no idea what fairy infants were like, but if they were half as charming as his daughter (who definitely took after her grandfather), this whole town would revolve around them.

As he thought, Belle was waiting for him, tape measure in hand. “Seriously?” he griped as he set Hope down next to Gideon in the playpen behind the circulation desk.

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” she threw back. “But if it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again until next week.”

“You only did it monthly last time around.”

“You were only carrying one babe.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Though his waist measurement remained unchanged, his weight was slightly higher (more than could be expected by a few extra pancakes). “I can feel it,” he confirmed when she asked. “There’s definitely something in there, though I only notice it if I go looking for it.”

Belle made a note and then flipped back and forth between some pages. “That matches up with when you found out you were expecting Hope; so do your measurements, and that was, what 8 weeks?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Second pregnancies do show sooner, too.”

“Especially this one,” he grumbled. 

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

The day continued normally, although his hand did gravitate to his stomach pretty often, without thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t noticeable, he still knew what was there, and his subconscious seemed to have already set out to protect it—that, or his hormones were already starting to affect him. 

Based on his reaction when Emma arrived that afternoon—particularly to his train of thought when she bent down to pick up a napping Hope—it was definitely hormones. His jeans felt a very different kind of tight then; something he acted on later that night, after a slightly larger than usual dinner. 

“Those hormones kicked in fast,” a sated Emma breathed as they came down from their shared high. “You haven’t been that voracious since we found out we were having a girl.”

“Are you complaining?” he panted. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.” And they went for another round. 

In fact, he was so insatiable the next couple of weeks that, despite his elevated appetite, no other discernible change in his weight was noticed; his waist actually went down a bit.

“Are you feeling alright? Keeping food down and everything?” Belle asked, worried, as she recorded his 2-week measurements, comparing them to his 10-week from his first pregnancy. “Last time, you couldn’t eat more than chicken rice about now.”

“Trust me—I feel more than fine,” he assured her. “Were it not for Emma’s implanted contraception, we’d likely need to be planning for a more traditional pregnancy.”

“That’s a very eloquent way of saying you can’t keep your hands off your wife.”

“I could have phrased it crudely—how many synonyms for ‘sex’ did you want Gideon to learn today?”

“None!” she exclaimed, covering her son’s impressionable ears. He was at the age when he repeated anything said around him—a fact they noticed when Gideon’s favorite phrase became “bloody hell.”

“What are uncles for, though?” he teased with a wink. 

Belle just groaned and threatened to teach Hope how to read with romance novels. Killian, however, was just glad she slept through the night so she didn’t interrupt the real thing. 

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

Where there had been some hubbub about town during Killian’s first pregnancy—and quite a lot of gawking—no one seemed as shocked this time around. They’d made no effort to keep it a secret, letting the Storybrooke rumor mill do its job, but either the town was more aware than Killian had been about fairy reproduction, or they had become jaded to such magical oddities (he assumed the latter).

That said—he had to assume the gawking would eventually return. 

Especially with the way Granny was feeding him. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him overindulge, but he’d noticed his portions were larger, and the amount of vegetables increased. He wondered if Blue had given her some nutritional instruction, or if it was just her innate grandmotherly instincts. 

The first time she slid an extra helping of broccoli over, he tried to protest, delicious as it looked. 

“Oh no—eat up, young man,” she commanded. “If my math is right, you’re eating for 10. I should probably be feeding you more, actually.”

Emma snickered next to him—they were on lunch break from the station—but he wasn’t sure if it was at Granny’s tutting or the fact that Killian had just realized the magnitude of…well, all of it. 

So when Granny slid some extra onion rings across the counter, he didn’t complain (but obviously shared them with his wife).

He wanted to blame it on those extra treats—onion rings, fries, pie, muffins—when they noticed an expansion in his waist measurement at 3 weeks, but it was definitely the babes; he could still wear his normal jeans, but was seeing some rounding behind his navel. 

And at 4 weeks—a month since the babes were transferred—it could finally be deemed a bump: there was a gentle curve to his whole stomach, from just under his pecs to his hips (which had been aching a bit as they widened some, likely in anticipation of the heavy load to come). Given the way he and Emma’s evening activities hadn’t slowed, he knew it was all the babies. 

Belle hummed as she compared the notes she’d just taken with those from last time. “Well, that’s interesting,” she commented.

“What is?” Emma asked; she’d joined them for that week’s check in, curious to see where things were.

“This week’s measurements match up with those from the end of the first trimester last time, which I suppose isn’t a huge surprise, but…”

“But I have a lot more to go than two trimesters,” he finished.

All eyes were on his stomach for a long while after that, likely all wondering the same thing: just how large would he get?

The only thing that took their attention away was the ringing of the bell over the door as someone arrived—Blue, it turned out. “Hi,” she greeted, clearly trying to be casual. “Just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d stay away from him for the duration of the pregnancy, although he had expected more subtle surveillance.

They chatted briefly about how he was feeling, and she studied his stomach with an outstretched hand, he assumed to do her own magical assessment. “Yes, they seem to be doing quite well; that’s good.”

“Did you think they weren’t?” Emma quipped.

“No, of course not,” Blue assured her. “Would it be odd to express my excitement?”

Well, they all understood that. “How long has it been since your last brood?” Belle had to ask.

“Over fifty years,” Blue answered. “They’re usually every five to ten, depending on the solstice.”

“And when you don’t have a series of curses in the way,” Emma added.

Blue glanced over Belle’s notes with interest. “That does seem to match up with past broods, though I don’t think anyone ever thought to take such detailed notes.”

“Are there any?” Belle asked. “I don’t have anything here, but if you had some back at the convent, it’d be great for comparison.”

“I’d have to check our library,” Blue answered. “There might be a few scrolls, but we’re not much for recorded history.”

“I can tell,” Belle complained.

After some more chatting, Blue excused herself, but did ask if it was alright if she checked in periodically.

“Of course,” Killian said. “It’s your brood. Plus, I’m certain we’ll need to take you up on the offer of help sooner rather than later, if this is where I’m already at after only 4 weeks,” he added, gesturing to his still-small bump.

“Absolutely,” Blue said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled her wand out of nowhere and twirled it at Killian’s midsection. His skin grew warm for a moment, but then returned to normal. “I’m not sure if the original spell will account for the size, as far as how it treats your skin; that should eliminate any damage.”

“No stretch marks?” he wondered.

“No—not any new ones, at least.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She then left as quickly as she appeared.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he sighed, and then they went about their day. But he was starting to grow very concerned about what lay ahead for him; he knew this wouldn’t be a small feat, but was worried it would be more than he could handle.

As time progressed, his bump steadily grew, though not unnaturally so. At 5 weeks, it was yet more noticeable; at 6, he finally had to concede defeat and dig out his maternity jeans, though they were still plenty roomy. By the end of the second month, he wasn’t quite where he’d been at the end of his second trimester, but it was definitely a baby bump—roughly where he’d been around 24 weeks with Hope, even though he was only at 8 with this one.

It was around then, though, that he noticed the first flutterings inside. He thought he’d noticed it the week before, but chalked it up to gas or something like that; Granny had been feeding him a lot of black beans lately. But late one night, after yet another glorious session of lovemaking, Emma’s hand had drifted to his belly and even she took notice.

“Wow, they’re actually starting to move in there, huh?”

“Seems like it. You don’t suppose they actually have wings already, do they?”

“Normal babies hardly have limbs at this stage, so probably not.”

They lay peacefully in the afterglow for a bit, before he asked quietly, “You are okay with this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d ask, nor was it likely to be the last. But it was a large undertaking and though she hadn’t exactly protested, he knew it wasn’t something she’d have volunteered for.

“For the hundredth time, yes. Even if this was partly fueled by guilt, I know you probably would have agreed anyway, and that big heart is why I love you so much. And can I say something else?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I was so attracted to you with that baby bump last time, even when you thought you were massive. So as long as your libido holds out, I think we’re both going to be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, I think I might need some convincing.”

“Then let me show you.” And oh, she did.

Gods, he prayed he’d be able to do that for a while. The next several months were going to be very interesting.

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thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @88infinity88​ (let me know if you want a tag!)

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 129: 14x14

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

March 7, 2022

14x14: Ouroboros

Written by: Steve Yockey

Directed by: Amyn Kaderali

Original air date: March 7, 2019

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Dean enlist the help of Rowena to track down a demi-god who feasts on human flesh; the challenge of keeping Michael at bay is proving to be more difficult than originally anticipated.

Features:

Michelin star cannibalism, a Destiel date, Noah the gay (bi?) gorgon, a brief Samwena fake dating AU, Michael escaping Dean’s cage, Jack killing Michael.

My Thoughts:

This episode is a delight to watch. It has a great balance between season plot and episode plot, the monster is something new with new challenges, and we get little Destiel and Samwena scenes to top it all off. Stan Steve Yockey.

I like how much in later seasons we see Dean and Cas asking for, and telling each other, their true feelings. It feels so rare that Dean would be vulnerable about what’s going on in his head with Michael, but he barely needs any prodding from Cas to open up. This is also the episode where Cas, Jack, and Dean all sit in a line and their jackets make a gradient. You couldn’t make Jack their son more visual if you tried.

I love Rowena as a character, especially once she joins the team and just tags along on cases. Ruth really gets a chance to shine in this episode, running that gamut from flirty to quippy to sincere to Archangel. I really like her portrayal of Michael, and also her velvet blazer kicks ass. She has big “Auntie Rowena” energy towards Jack in this episode. She also has literally no reason to pick a fake fight with Sam at the vet and just does it to be chaotic.

Noah the Gorgon is a fun monster. Iconic one-episode character. My notes say, “wait- bisexual gorgon. #representation”. Ghostfacers effect says he kissed Cas on the lips.

Cas is literally outside the narrative in this episode, unable to be seen by this outside power. It made me think of the season 4 finale - Chuck saying, “you aren’t in this story”. I wish I wish that they had continued to make this concept concrete within the world. I love him being the spanner in the works, the thing that God can’t control. Unfortunately half the writers don’t like him so he gets sidelined a bunch.

My favourite thing about this episode, though is everything going on with Jack. His plotline in season 14 is SUPER interesting and this is such a big plot point in it. I was thinking about how the last 2 seasons of Supernatural are a quadruple whammy of sacrifices that, for once, do not include the Winchester brothers (although they do try - see Dean with the Ma’lak Box). Cas sacrifices himself for Jack in 14x08 Byzantium and for Dean in 15x18 Despair, and Jack completes the set by sacrificing his soul to heal Cas of the Gorgon’s poison and to destroy Michael (implicitly protecting Dean from both the further violation of his body as vessel and the consequences of not following through on the Ma’lak Box plan). It’s not surprising that Jack has a bit of a martyr complex, given who raised him. Jack in my mind, is both the chicken and the snake and the egg (call that a holy trinity). He’s the chicken sacrificing something precious (his soul) to kill the dangerous creature (Michael). He’s the snake swallowing something (Michael’s grace), an action that will eventually lead to Dean threatening his death. He’s the egg, a vessel holding a greater potential, that is used to kill the ultimate enemy (God). Am I reading too much into this? Maybe, but that’s my god-given right as a tumblrina in the year 2022.

Notable Lines:

“Darling boy, everything means something.”

“That's what I'm supposed to say, right? "I'm fine," keep on moving? That's what we all say.”

“Fine. Don't tell me. But using dangerous, mysterious magic, regardless of the cost, that's a very on-brand me thing to do. Of course Samuel, until very recently, I was the villain.”

“Humans burn bright, but for a very brief time compared to, you know, things like us. And eventually, they're gone, even the very best ones, and we have to carry on.”

“When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 10

IMdB Rating: 8.6

In Conclusion: This is a fun day because I’m filling in for a dress rehearsal for a role that I originally auditioned for and was not cast in. I am writing this lil book report from the theatre seats while the SM spikes chairs.

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[apples-r-rubbish]

Institute (13th Doctor x reader) Part 8 (FINAL)

Summary: Gallifrey. The end. Word count: 2.5k AN: Final part, thank so much for all the love and support on everything. I never expected this or anything remotely close to this. Thank you! feel free to stick around to see what I have coming next- got a few 11 things planned. Hope you enjoy -Leo x Warnings: Violence, death Tags: @penguinwithitsarseonfire​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4) (PART 5) (PART 6) (PART 7) MASTERLIST

Gallifrey was warm. The air hung around you, hot and heavy. Everything was burning. 

“You’re late,” The master growled “I looked into it you should’ve been here 3 hours ago,”

“The last time I checked I was still alive, nice try,” You smirked. He handcuffed you.

“Just so you don’t get any ideas, and because you dropped yourself off here, we’ve got a long walk. I can’t believe you screwed up your own execution” He pulled the vortex manipulator off your wrist and proceeded to stomp on it, severing your final lifeline. He grabbed you by the face, his rough fingers digging into your skin “I can’t wait to watch her face, as the light leaves your eyes,” He mumbled, dropping his hand suddenly, before yanking your arm, guiding you forward. The panic had then hit you. You were going to die and the Doctor was going to watch, you tried to pull against him, tried to run. Cursing and screaming. The Master’s grip only got tighter, you were crying in pain, trying desperately to pull away. Nothing was working. 

“Look, you can make this easier for you, or harder,” He said, pulling out the Tissue Compression device. So you walked. It could have been hours or moments, time seemed to bend around you. There was a weird glowing patch ahead of you, “We’re going through there when we see her. I need to prove to her I’m serious and that you’re bait,”

“Why did you destroy it?” You asked, monotone, you were not allowing him to win.

“Nothing to with you, humans, want to stick their noses into everyone’s business,”

“I’m about to die, it’s not like I have anyone to tell,” You argued

“Do you expect sympathy? None of them were shown any, and they actually belonged here. More than you can say considering you’re a walking corpse,” He hissed “and shut up will you.” 

 Something moved behind the portal, and speaking could faintly be heard. Without warning you were pulled to your feet, and pushed into it. The ground on the other side of the portal was rock and you discovered that, by falling nearly face first into it. The Master followed behind you closely, pulling you back up aggressively by the shoulder. 

“Now that was a good entrance, right? Right?” He nudged you as he spoke, trying desperately to gain a reaction from you“You should be afraid, everything is about to change,” He growled “Take my hand,” 

“Never, give me back (Y/N),” She hissed

“Not happening. I could just kill her on the spot and drag you through the boundary kicking and screaming after killing all your other little humans too. She’s going to die anyway, why can’t it be here?” He threatened, his tone of voice surprisingly calm

“Ok, fine, I’ll come with you but you hurt anyone of them and I won’t hesitate. I’ll be back soon, don’t worry,” 

“She won’t. Good luck, c’mon (Y/N),” He yanked your arm forward as the three of you crossed the boundary “Look upon my work Doctor, and despair,”

“Why did you do this? Why are you dragging (Y/N) into this? She doesn’t deserve it,” The Doctor questioned

“Not telling you,” He laughed “Well, I’ll tell you a little. Her death is a fixed point, and you’ve kept putting it off. I want to further the plans so to speak, keep everything ticking over. Also because I want to watch you suffer, for everything you’ve ever done,” 

“If you so much as hurt her I’ll-” 

The master cut her off “You’ll what? Kill me? Please. You couldn’t even hurt me when I tried to kill you on that plane. I’m your worst friend, your best enemy, she’s a human. She’ll die anyway.”

You just watched as they argued, you couldn’t run because you’d die faster, he’d just kill you from behind, you couldn’t stay because the master would kill you eventually so you just froze.You dared not cut into the conversation,you felt like child watching two adults fight and you were powerless to stop it.  You went dizzy, the weight of the situation heavy again, The doctor went to steady you, “No! You’re not going anywhere near her. Citadel. now,” 

The room was large, with various platforms around the room, You were dragged onto a smaller one, and the Doctor stepped onto a larger one, light beams curving around her. She hissed in pain, you went to run to her, you shin was met with a weighty kick. You fell to the ground, huffing. 

“Aw, what a sweet moment that would have been. But I think it’s time we begin now,” He growled, you grabbed your neck aggressively pulling you to your feet “any final words?” 

“I forgive you, you will blame yourself for this but I forgive you. Always and completely. I was bound to get caught up in this, the institute was never safe. I love you, don’t let this break you.” You spoke, directed all towards the Doctor.

“I do hate to break up a couple, but I have plans I’m afraid,” The Master smirked. You blinked. Reality slowed. There was pain. A sharp pain. An involuntary gasp. Pain. And so much blood. Pain. You fell to your knees first, then backwards. Pain. You couldn’t hear the screams of the Doctor or the laughs of the Master, only the fading heartbeat in your chest and shallow breaths.You could vaguely see her crying. Your vision blurred as you mumbled one final silent wish to the universe, ‘Keep her safe’.

You were gone. Another death on that distant planet.

Grey enveloped the Doctor. Ruth appeared in front of her.

“Oh great more traps and tricks. The matrix is deciding to mess with me again?” She huffed.

“You summoned me here, this isn’t the matrix,” Ruth replied “I understand it as much as you do.” Her voice was clear and not unkind when she spoke. “Where do you fit into this? Who are you? Are you my past? Or are you my future?”

“I don’t have the answers. Would it help you if I did? That doesn’t change who we are,” Ruth responded

“I mean yes it would-” She blinked. You now stood in front of her replacing Ruth,

“When have you ever been limited by who you were? When have you ever let it stop you?” She looked as if she’d been slapped, she simply wanted to memorise every detail of your face, before it faded and she had to come to terms with everything. 

“I can’t talk. I'm tired. I want to sleep, the field is taking the energy out of me,” She said drifting slightly. 

“Now’s not the time to be tired, old man. You know that. People have died, the city is burning, and you’ve left your friends,”

“I don’t know how to stop him,” She began, she wanted to walk towards you but she couldn’t the field holding her in place, “I've already lost you, who cares about the city? Who cares about anything else?”

“You can and will. Be who you always are, old man. Blow their minds. Be the Doctor,” You whispered “Think of me, from time to time though.” She remembered everything, meeting you, the institute, the cybermen, the trips to far flung planets, your smile, your friendships, your kindness. You.

“I love you, old man,” You pressed a final gentle kiss to her forehead. The field broke sending light everywhere. 

The Doctor was awoken to her friends standing over her and asking if she was alright.  

“Where is she? Where’s (Y/N)?” She asked her throat sore

“Doc, there’s no one else here? We figured the Master had taken her with him, if he hadn’t you know-” Graham responded panic creeping into his voice. She pulled herself to her feet quickly, the world merging into a mess of shapes. Your body had vanished. Time for a plan. 

“Live great lives,” The Doctor said as she backed out of the TARDIS and ran down a corridor. There the master stood cyber timelords circled around him. “I definitely said no plus ones. Where is she?” 

“What do you mean? I left her to rot. I thought it would nice to have a new world start with the blood of a human. A species you're so fond of, especially that one,” The master laughed “The cyberium lives in me now. I’ve won, broken you down”

“You think you've broken me? You'll have to try harder than that. You've given me a gift. Of myself. You think that could destroy me? You think that makes me lesser? It makes me more.” She hissed pulling out the detonator “I contain multitudes more than I ever thought or knew. You want me to be scared of it because you're scared of everything. But I am so much more than you. You took her from me and that’s where you’re wrong, I have nothing left to lose!” As she shouted, the master kneeled, pressing his head against the detonator “Do it, I want the universe to suffer because of you.”

The older man burst through the door, rambling about how he needed to do it and how she needed to go. She tried to argue and failed. The Doctor ran, stole a tardis and made it to safety. As she always did. 

It had been a handful of years since your death. The doctor had dipped in and out of time stream, taking you on dates to relive your time together. She dared to not visit Ryan, Yaz and Graham, they’d ask and she wouldn’t have answers. She sat in the cold tardis, fiddling with the controls as she tended to do now. No one to ramble to other than her ship. Electricity fizzed once again in the air, you materialised near the entrance of the ship. The TARDIS seemed colder than usual, emptier.

“What? Are you doing here?” She asked clearly shocked to see you

 “It dropped me off here- wait, damn, the ring,” You tapped the co-ordinates back into the vortex manipulator before disappearing and reappearing again in front of her.  

“So I’m being haunted now, I just dropped you off home after Cinter - purple planet sky, massive moon,” She explained

“I knew that was the wrong order,” You laughed “Not haunted. Hasn’t happened yet, for me, still on my deathbed, running late, I think, the coordinates keep switching,” 

“You’ll be fine. I’d prefer it if you were late, or even better, didn’t show up to it,”

“Where do I end up and who does it?” 

“It’s on Gallifrey, I presume you can figure the coordinates out. I tried to stop him, I tried,”

“Shhh it’s ok” You held her in your arms pressing a kiss to her forehead, tears welling in both of your eyes

“I saw bits of it twice,” She explained, she was crying now, at the long past memories for her.

“You know it’s a fixed point, I don’t know why you had to go to it twice, that’s weird even for you,” You laughed trying to calm her down

“The TARDIS dropped me off there. Not my idea of fun. Fixed point your death, and she’s drawn to it for some reason, maybe to keep me out of trouble,”

“She was always fond of me, even then,” You laughed, fingers spread on the console, “you know what they say about grief, you need to see things from a different perspective,”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I’ve worked it out- A message from her. This is why she prefers me,” You took her hand “My death is a fixed point, see it from a new perspective,” 

She froze, as you tapped at the time travel device “I love you, old man, and I’m sorry.” You whispered, unable to speak in a volume higher than that, you finally let go of her hand. 

“I love you-” She began. She didn’t finish the sentence before you had vanished from in front of her. The Doctor considered your words for a moment. For the first time in a long time she smiled. “So a new perspective, death, she just has to die,” She swung around to the otherside of the TARDIS pressing more buttons and flicking switches. 

Her tardis was in the citadel, one of the rooms that had been abandoned by the master, stuck in the state of murder. The Doctor’s breath caught in her throat; she did not want to be here. It came flooding back to her amongst the maze of corridors the unknowing the gut feeling of unknowing. She was running up the stairs, running to you. The only certainty left. Rounding the corner she saw you; what was left of you. She saw herself, her face distorting in pain within the truth field, unaware of the events outside it. As gently as she could, she picked up your body, she heard footsteps, the fam. She left the room as quickly as she could. 

The TARDIS welcomed her, encouraging noises coming from the console. She set off before anything else, she couldn’t have the risk of the others seeing her. You lay on the floor, pale, lips parted. If she didn’t know better she would have assumed you were sleeping. A glowing light slipped from her fingers, she gently placed her hand against your cheek, one final loving gesture, “I can’t lose you again. Come back to me, I love you,” She mumbled. There was a second. It felt like a thousand years. The Doctor held her breath the whole time, unable to move, solely focussing on you. Your chest rose slightly. You were breathing

You were kept in the medical bay and you finally woke up after three painfully long days. You wandered into the TARDIS console room, encouraging bleeps and bloops coming from her. 

“What happened? Did we damage the timeline?” Was all you managed to get out before you were tackled to the floor by a strong overwhelming hug. 

“You’re ok, you’re safe, I think I fixed it, you’re ok,” She mumbled into you

“Did I?” You asked the situation blurry

“Yes. I brought you back, I just need to know you’re ok,” 

“I’m fine, not a scratch on me, feeling the best I have felt in a while actually,” You were laughing now unable to contain the happiness you felt when you saw her. You stayed like that for a while, lying on the TARDIS floor a mixture of laughing and crying. 

“Travel with me, please,” She asked, her hand in your hair she asked, still lying next you.

“Of course I will. I’ll quit at the institute. I think it’s about time I took a step back. No more institute, time I lived a life rather than reading one.” You were pulled to your feet, and guided to the console by her, your ringless hand held within hers. She typed in coordinates, and pressed a few buttons “So, you can do the honours,” The Doctor pointed you towards the main switch. You grabbed her hand and placed it onto the switch with yours pulling it down, “We’re doing this. First stop - victorian England. Finally synced Together.”

[voxymoxyboxy]

Hey there! This is my gift for @rnarchhare for the Sam and Max Secret Santa! I really hope you enjoy it and have a very happy holidays!  

THE LITTLE THINGS

Over the years, Max had learned to love a few things.

Violence.

Mass weapons of destruction.

That rush you get when surfing on a car going one hundred miles down the interstate.

Sam.

That was the most important thing.

Honestly, the lagomorph never thought he’d come to love a living thing. His family life wasn’t the best, what with most of them ending up in jail or troubled situations and, while Sam family was nice, most of them tried to stay clear of the troublesome rabbit.

That’s why it surprised him so much when Sam laughed the first time he cracked a joke. Maybe that’s when it sparked that pitiful fire in the depths of his belly, but Max wouldn’t know that for years to come.

The only thing close to love he’d gotten growing up (barring Sam of course) was the care and affection given by Granny Ruth, who’d practically raised both boys throughout their childhood. He came to admire the tough ol’ gal as she showed off her awesome moves and superior knowledge of disembowelment. They made him happy and suddenly Max knew what it was like to be home.

Sam helped him learn how to love other things. The little things made life worth living, he’d said. The lagomorph had thought it was complete horseshit at the time, but, naturally, the dog had showed him the way.

The crunch almonds brought to chocolate.

Signing along to old records while it rained.

Hugs and the warmth they left behind.

But, what was perhaps one of his favorite things to learn to appreciate was winter.

What was once just a simple couple of months where he delighted in seeing other people be dreary, his best friend taught him to find more. His first Christmas with Sam was life-changing, to put it mildly. Ruth had spun tales of Santa and presents, yet Max paid it no mind. Only the good little girls and boys of the world were given gifts, so he knew he’d never get any.

No, what was far more important were the things that came with the season.

Sam’s family showed him how to bake Christmas cookies, gingerbread and sugar (though the rabbit preferred chocolate chip Sam’s favorite) and yule logs. That memory of them being covered in frosting never failed to make Max all warm and fuzzy inside. They decorated and demolished a Christmas tree together. Had snowball fights. Made snowmen.

Oddly enough, the lagomorph’s favorite part were the itchy sweaters.

Over several months Granny Ruth had painstakingly knitted both her grandson and little rabbit friend personalized Christmas sweaters. Tacky and almost insultingly ugly, Sam had donned his immediately and persuaded Max to do the same. The darn thing was itchy and suffocating. He’d appreciated that part, seeing it as a potential torture device even back then.

And yet…. it had filled him with an immense sense of… something warm and gooey. Mushy and gushy. Max had thought he was gonna be sick and vomited all over the carpet because it was obviously the right thing to do. However, even after emptying his stomach, the feeling had remained. It was only later when he realized it was affection.

Even now….

“Max!” Sam bellowed across their tiny office. “Package for us!”

“Oh boy!” Max cheered, popping out of one of the dog’s desk drawers. “Is it time yet?”

Sam checked the label and nodded, excitement plain on his face. “It’s from Granny Ruth alright. Ready for an entire month of too-tight collars and scratching till our fur falls out?”

“Absolutely!” The lagomorph hopped out and walked towards his boyfriend, manic smile widening as he was greeted by a gentle kiss to his forehead. Big box shoved in his face, Max swiped it from Sam and batted his eyelashes. “Aww, can I?”

“Course, little buddy.” The dog patted the space between Max’s ears. “Otherwise, I’ve would’ve done it myself!”

“You spoil me.” Max teased before tearing the packaging with his bare hands. The loud tearing and ripping sounds amused him to no end, especially when Sam watched on with this look of absolute adoration. The rabbit swore his heart did a flip. To hide his quickly darkening cheeks, Max threw the larger piece of fabric Sam’s way. “I think this one may be yours, hon.”

“You callin’ me big?” Sam asked, pouting as he caught the sweater.

“Great for cuddling!” Max said, taking a good look at the design Ruth had subjected him to this year. A garish red and green, she’d sewn a large snowman on the front. His black button eyes stared into his soul like it would steal it when nobody was looking. It was so very, very ugly.

And he loved it so very, very much.

“What yours look like?” the rabbit asked, muffled slightly as his melon-shaped head got caught in one of his sleeves.

“It’s all green.” Sam replied. “Big Christmas tree with jingle bells sewed on it. Just plain awful!”

“Well what’re you waitin’ for? Put it on!” The lagomorph finally popped his head through the proper hole, body already becoming itchy. That was a good sign. Meant it was authentic! His boyfriend finished putting his own on, holding out his arms.

“How does it look?”

Max snickered. “Absolutely horrid! You on the other hand,” he took one of Sam’s hands and squeezed it tight, “are gorgeous.” Sam turned away, bashful at the rabbit’s flirtatious remark. Oh, how he’d come to love making his Sammy all flustered.

“Ah can in, knucklehead.” He said and pulled at one of his sleeves. The dog glanced towards their couch. “Wanna watch movies till we pass out?” Max scoffed.

“Sam, if you wanted to cuddle, all ya had to do was say so!” The lagomorph shoved his boyfriend towards the tattered piece of furniture. Pushing the big lug to lay down, Max made himself comfortable in his lap. He grabbed the remote and flicked the tv on, some random Christmas movie appearing on the screen. Action was more his style, but he didn’t mind it if his partner kept holding him like that.

“That good, babe?” he asked. Sam pulled Max closer, nuzzling his shoulder. “Other than the blazin’ heat these delightful sweaters offer us.”

“Almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Max turned to see Sam’s face. “What else do ya-?” A swift kiss cut him off. One of the rare moments when the dog took initiative in their relationship. It made the rabbit melt and he swore his organs were turning to mush at that moment. He was gonna catch on fire, but Max didn’t care. The world could burn and nothing else would matter.

Sam ended it and smiled down at his boyfriend. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Yer too sappy, ya know that?”

(Though Max had learned-)

“You love it.”

(-to love that too.)

Max sighed. “Whatever makes ya happy, Sam.”

When Max had met Sam, love wasn’t even a word in his dictionary.

But now….

Max leaned in for another kiss.

It was the most important thing.  

[ashintheairlikesnow]

WIP Wednesday: Whumptober Previews, Take 2

I still have a few more to go, but I am in the final stretch for writing my @whumptober2020​ pieces! I already posted one preview of what I have so far (you can see Days 1-12 here), so here are previews for the rest of what I have written - and sneak peeks at what’s planned out but not written yet! 

Whumptober starts tomorrow - we’ll see how you feel about my work this go-round! Last year, Whumptober Day 1 introduced Daniel Michaelson. This year... it starts with Danny, too.

Day 13:

“Vanni, they thought he was you.”

“I know, Ridley!” Rossi never snapped at Ridley, but here it was, and Connor forced in a hitching, shaky inhale around the tremendous, inescapable weight pressing down on him, determined to keep breathing long enough to understand. “I know they did.”

“And they fucking poisoned him and then dumped him to fucking die-”

“I know!” The two men went silent for a second, Ridley staring with shock at Rossi and Rossi glaring furious towards the window without looking back. Connor’s breath, rattling in his struggling lungs, was the only sound in the room.

Day 14:

Peter glanced over his shoulder, back towards the house. The thermometer had climbed a little more, reading 98.5 degrees Farenheit now, and Peter blinked as he shivered again, swallowing without any saliva. His mouth felt dry, and strange. Why was he shivering - how did he have goosebumps - if it was almost one hundred degrees?

As if he’d heard Peter’s thoughts, the side door opened and Micheal came out, wearing his weekend outfit of slim black slacks and a pale heathered gray t-shirt, what Madam allowed him to wear. He was carrying a glass of water with ice and a little striped straw stuck in the top. The black shock collar he was never allowed to remove - not yet, Madam said, not until Micheal learned how to be silent without needing encouragement, to her satisfaction - cut a wide band across his neck, the black box small and nearly perfectly blended in at the back. 

“Peter,” He said in a low voice - not quite a whisper, but just as quiet. “I brought you a drink, I-” He looked up, squinting towards the sky. “It’s hot. Should you be out here?”

Day 15:

He drops back to the ground, groaning, eyes fluttering open and shut, before he reaches out to grip onto Ora’s arm again. He turns to look at them, and his eyes are glowing so brightly he can see the reflected light on Ora’s face, the flicker of yellow against their irises. There are things that move beneath the light in Ryan Michaelson’s eyes, and he no longer feels them pushed back under the surface of his skin. 

“I’m so fucking hungry,” He whispers, and his fingernails dig into Ora’s arm until they begin to bleed and whimper, but they don’t - can’t - pull away. Not until he lets them.

They will be lost in his eyes until he decides to let them go.

Day 16:

Count to ten, Tris! One… two...

Her voice is so loud he jumps, but when he looks to the left, nothing’s there. Just the white walls, plain and featureless, white tiles that were smooth under his fingertips back when he was allowed to touch them. 

Everything is cold, and the boy has been shivering for so long that his muscles ache from the constant tense-and-release, tense-and-release, struggling to keep him warm.

Day 17:

She giggles a little, then glances over her shoulder, mouths something at the cameraman. Oliver can guess what. Edit that out.

Kelly Donahue doesn’t want the episode to be aired with her giggling like a schoolgirl at a bit of idle flattery. Well. Everyone has their things they like to hide, don’t they?

She has her giggle. Oliver has a teenage boy locked in his bedroom.

Day 18:

“Your mother,” Patrick interrupted, with gentle violence, “believes that you are squandering an opportunity.”

“An-... a what-”

“We respect your decision - and your brother’s - to refuse interviews, especially at his early date.” Patrick sounded like he’d rehearsed this answer, delivered with the same smooth cadence he had during his speeches before the Board of Directors. “But, considering the effort it took us to find you-”

“The effort it took Nate to find us,” Ryan corrected, ice growing along his veins at the same time it took over his voice. “Nate. It was Nate who watched the videos, it was Nate who talked Abraham into showing him the yard, it was Nate who spent fucking night after fucking night trolling fucking satellite photos to try and find us. Don’t act like the effort came from you. It came from my brother’s goddamn fiance.”

Day 19:

“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”

“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”

“Your instincts-”

“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”

Day 20:

He’d been flying, and the fall had been worse than the arrow, at first.

The sudden burst of white-hot pain had stunned him, caught him mid-spin enjoying an early-morning chill, and sent him tumbling to the ground below.

He’d heard his own frantic keens of panic and fear as if from a distance, and then they’d been drowned out when he slammed into the trees, feathers flying all around him as they were ripped free by the branches he smacked into one after another on the way down.

Day 21:

"Mmhmmm. Christopher. Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "No known health problems. Autistic."

Jake looks up, and Nat calmly looks back at him, while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment we’re sending him into.” Chris whimpered, and Nat’s voice went ragged, her eyes closed tightly against the sight of his face pale, sweaty, twisted with pain. “Listen. Just-... just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time while he gets worse!"

Day 22:

Rossi picks the glass up and just as he tilts it up to his lips, Connor rears back and up on his knees and swings one of his hands, the black leather ‘paw’ smacking into the rim of the glass and spilling it in an arc across Rossi’s suit, onto the table, soaking his cards and hitting the next person at the table right in the eyes.

“Connor, what the fuck?!” Rossi’s voice isn’t furious, not yet - he’s too shocked to get beyond the simple surprise.

Day 23:

The drugs in his system weigh him down, he is too exhausted to understand what’s happening or how to begin to fight it. His eyes keep trying to close and stay closed, and he whimpers, forcing them back open.

“Pozhaluysta…” He groans, collapsing forward against the heavy solidity of the man, the soft tailored fabric of his expensive suitjacket, the scent of clove cigarettes that clings to him like a woman’s fingers clutching tightly. “Pozhaluysta, otpusti menya…”

Day 24:

“My name is Melody,” The girl said, nearly extending her hand, but then she realized the creature’s right hand was nothing but wickedly sharp talons, and it was bound in front of him to his left. “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The creature blinked once, twice. Watched her, tense and maybe suspicious, and then shook his head. “No… no name.” He spoke slowly, as though words came only with difficulty but a soft little trill sounded under one voice, layered it with another. “Pet.”

Day 25:

“Wh, where, where, where-where, where am, am I-”

“Sssshhhh.” The person in the dark blue uniform presses a plastic-gloved hand to his shoulder as he tries to sit up, pushing him back down. “Hey no, you gotta stay steady, there. Don’t move.”

“Please-... please, sir, h-hurts-”

“Not sir,” The person says, gently, a bit of auburn hair falling over their forehead. “Can you see?”

“K-Kind... kind of... hurts-”

“Sssshhhh. I know. I know it does. Just hang on. Tori’s going to help me get you some paperwork going. Don’t worry, kiddo.” The person pats him, lightly, and then looks up, brown eyes scanning the hallway outside. “You’re not the first we’ve pulled through this.”

Day 26:

Calon Nie hummed to himself, tapping talons on the floor, watching the boy sit so still, as though stillness could protect him from the dangers of the world. “Good. Failed, you, to keep new eyes. Costs a life, to give something new. Killan Josta, human boy, he fail Calon Nie. He fail the life given, when eyes don’t work. Did not respect sacrifice.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” The boy said hoarsely, curling in on himself even more, his wings instinctively curling protectively around him. “I… I don’t want anyone to d-die for me. I didn’t mean to-... I didn’t mean to fail. I, I tried to p-pray for them, to stars, to-”

“Paugh! Mysteries do not hear you.”

Day 27:

Jake answers, and on the other side of the door, the old woman stands holding a large cardboard box in her arms, her grandson present, as nearly always, at her side. He holds a large box, too - so big, in fact, that only the top half of his face is visible.

“They’re sayin’ it could be a week before we get power back,” Ruth says, with a world-weary sigh.��“A full-on week. We figured we’d bring you some supplies.” 

Day 28:

Ora Collins is hungry.

Day 29:

Jake is a tall man, but the emergency room always made him feel so small. Even now, part of him rehearses the scripted stories. I fell while climbing a tree. I crashed my bike. I tripped going down the stairs.

He has lies to tell today, just like he always has, but today the lies are for Chris, not himself.

He’s my brother. No, different dads, that’s all. His mom lives a few states away, I handle all his medical stuff. 

Day 30:

(AKA Possession, Part 2)

Ryan and Nate take down Abraham Denner.

Day 31:

Danny is left for dead.

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 6x12 Murder Most Foul

Oh! This is a Charming centric, I think? Awesome!

Aww! Baby David and James!!

So James was named before he was adopted. Interesting that George and his wife chose to keep that name.

I wonder which twin is older. I think I’ve said this before. I hc that David is younger by a few minutes.

Omg Ruth pointed a knife at Rumple for trying to take one of her sons. 

That really must be an impossible decision. 

Rumple gave him the coin! 

I forgot they went by heads or tails. I thought David was just Ruth’s favourite.

Uggggh! That’s so horrible! It hurts!

Creepy ghost is creepy!

Archie! I miss seeing Archie more. I wonder if he has any trauma from when Killian kidnapped him. And now he’s his therapist!

Snowing miss each other so much!

David is going through the motions today! 

Neighbouring king? I always thought Ruth and David lived in King George’s kingdom. Do you think that if King George knew about David as well, he would have adopted him too, by force if he had to, in order to keep the secret? I think he would have. If someone saw another boy looking exactly like the prince, then they may have said something. Though, would it have to be a secret? Were they allowed to have adopted heirs in their realm? I mean, Regina would have made Henry heir to her throne and then she is not Queen due to line of succession even though she was born a princess. Couldn’t King George change the law if he wanted? It may have been an issue if the secret was the reason he wanted to kill David’s father. Oh, in England it’s been illegal for centuries apparently. That is beyond stupid! What are you gonna do if the next in line to the throne is asexual or gay and wants to adopt or just wants to only adopt? Not that I’m a fan of the concept of royalty in the real world but that’s straight up discrimination! Laws may be different in the EF though. I just can’t remember why George wanted to kill David’s dad. 

Awww look at little David!!

Omg he’s adorable!!

David, honey, you need to get some sleep. I know you miss Snow, but you probably haven’t slept in ages! 

Maybe David is seeing things that aren’t there. I always start seeing things that aren’t there when I haven’t slept, especially spiders. I f***ing hate spiders. 

Talking to a dead significant other’s alternative self must be so weird. Are they trying to court over stories of the original Robin? *whispers* That’s kinda weird.

Zelena, what the hell? That’s not even his child. Calm down, girl. 

I mean, I guess she is biologically his child. When an identical twin is an uncle, do they have dna matches as if they were the biological father also? I’ve probably asked this before. And then when it comes to alternate versions of the same person, don’t they share 100 per cent the same DNA? So biologically Robin Jr. may be Wish Robin’s child. The same goes for Original Hook and Alice and Wish Hook and Hope, I suppose. I wonder if the Hooks would act like uncles to the kids that aren’t technically theirs. 

Zelena, that was so random.

That’s not even the Nottingham you know, Robin! 

Was this what original Robin meant about having a dark past, or something. Was he like this before?

I wanna see Emma and Henry’s canoeing trip!! If there are any edits of this, please point me to them! 

Wait, there’s another curse Emma wants to break? I can’t remember there being one. What happened this time? Oh! Her parents’ sleeping curse! I thought there was another dark curse I’d missed. That could have very well been the case.

“I’d do anything to see my boy and tell him I’m sorry.” You can see Rumple felt that because it’s exactly what he wants to do. He doesn’t even need a hair from his head, he’s just trying to keep his image up. Really he’s helping him for free because he knows what that pain is like. Yep, he threw it away!

Rumple: “Someday, may we all be reunited with our sons.”

You go canoeing Emma! You guys have fun!

Why didn’t Regina give those hearts back once she decided to turn over a new leaf? I know she said she took so many she lost track but if everyone who’s heart was taken came forward, they might be able to figure it out through trial and error.

She really was hoping to get with this Robin so that they could be part of each other's fresh starts. But wouldn’t that feel like a betrayal to the other Robin? It’s kinda like replacing him with a copy. 

Oh snap! They kissed! Regina, don’t do this, girl. It’s too weird.

He’s stolen something, hasn’t he.

Pleasure island makes me feel so uneasy. I used to be terrified of Disney’s Pinocchio. Pleasure island is just creepy in that movie.

I hate the fact that they put Pinocchio in the flashback of this episode so much. If we’re to assume this puppet is physically 6 or 7 then he’s probably older than David! He must have remained physically a 6 or 7 year old puppet for at least 20 years. I liked him being closer to Emma’s age. Why did they retcon this? And this Pinocchio has so much more attitude than the young Pinocchio we’ve seen in previous episodes.

I love James’ Prince outfit! It’s so cool! Omg! I’ve just realised it’s the same outfit the prince wears in the Snow White Disney movie!! How have I not realised this before?!

James doesn’t want to kill things! George completely manipulated him. He had a good heart and why would George do this to his frightened son?? And he’s only 6! So cruel!

Nope. That doesn’t make sense. No way August took the pages about Pinocchio out of the book. Henry had already read the whole book by then. The whole idea was that August added the story of Pinocchio to help Emma figure things out or something. Henry said the Pinocchio story wasn’t there before when he got his book back. 

David, no!

I feel so sad for James. He’s just a kid. Leave him alone! Let him run through the forest and sing to birds, as Disney princes should. George basically got James killed. Just be a decent father, George and don’t be so cruel to your own freaking son. Jeez! I bet he was a horrible, controlling husband too. He is so controlling! 

Random thought but I kinda ship James with Zelena. They both had terrible fathers. Zelena had two! I wonder if she ever met her other dad. Would she have pulled a Tom Riddle and killed him? 

David’s dad stood his ground. He was told of James’ father’s abuse and tried to protect James, even knowing he would pay dearly. And then afterwards no one was left to protect James. Maybe his mother did before she died and maybe that’s when George began trying to force him to become a knight. I like to think his mother was loving to him until she died when he was young like Zelena’s was. They got a taste of unconditional love in their early years and then it was torn away from them and replaced with control and/or contempt.

This guy has just told James he is his biological father, George acknowledges this and then tells them to kill him in front of Janes?! How freaking heartless!

Look how angry David was when he thought he’d found the man who killed his father. Then when he realises it was Killian he’s like “it’s all cool bruh. We chilling at Granny’s tonight?” Let. The. Charmings. Express. Their. Anger. And. Pain. It’s like Regina and Killian are Gods to them who can do know wrong, require instant forgiveness and nothing must be spoken against them. As for other villains, good freaking luck! And if your one of the Charmings or considered a hero from the start, if you so much as look at someone the wrong way you are the worst most evil villain in existence. Like Eva. Due to her deeds, which I agree weren’t nice, Regina considered her the villain as compared to freaking Cora. What??! She was the bully in that situation, yes, but how can you compare her misdeeds to Cora’s?!

David, bby!! I’m sorry! I love you! 

Oh Lord, I’m crying!

I want to hug David so badly!

David says he doesn’t know if he has a way to repay Killian, Killian says he may have an idea and then asks for David’s blessing. Like, “Yeah you can repay me! Repay me with your daughter’s hand in marriage, suckkker!!”

Hey! I’ve kissed many photographs of my dog! And if you believe hard enough, they will walk through the photo into your living room and frighten the sh*t out of you!

Called it! He did steal something.

Interesting choice for August to give Killian the pages with him killing David’s dad. He should have given them straight to David. Maybe that’s what Wish Pinocchio meant when he said that Emma put her faith in him and that he hopes she never does that again. I love August but maybe Blue imbued him with some of her shadiness when she turned him into a real boy.

And Killian was naughty to look at those pages. Or maybe that moment wasn’t part of those pages. Maybe Killian just recognise the face of the man he ruthlessly killed!

The thing is, why would Killian care if he saw him kill the King’s men? He’s spent years rebelling against royalty. I’m sure he’s known by now. 

Killian must be taking one of his trips from Neverland ordered by Pan at this point.

The heartlessness! He hears the man has a family and a child, he believed him and then kills him horribly afterwards. This has got to be one of the evilest things Killian ever did. And it’s Emma’s grandfather!!

Even one of his crewmates is look looking at him like “Wtf.” It makes me so angry. Don’t get me wrong, I actually think it was a great twist, but I hate how it was handled. I hate that David, who was so hurt by this didn’t get to express his anger at Killian towards him or at all. That’s just not realistic. I guess he was following how Snow forgave Regina for killing her father. But even that took many years, not freaking minutes!

At least tell Emma.

Is that ring getting smaller the more I look at it or am I high on my meds? 

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Seven Devils

Warnings: Hospitals, Gore, Inappropriate use of scripture, messiah complex

AO3  <<<Previous

Day 4

you woke up with extreme nausea and stomach pain. You ran to the bathroom, not caring if any noise you were making would wake anyone. The pain seemed to worsen as you heaved into the toilet. You were vomiting blood. The noise managed to wake Sister Ruth, she rushed to your side, holding up your hair and rubbing your back. You couldn’t see the look of horror on her face. “I think we need to take you to the hospital; you might have some internal bleeding.” You tried to shake your head no, not wanting to be subject to the poking and prodding. The pain was debilitating, curling up on the floor as Sister Ruth went to get help.

////

The lights of the hospital were blinding. You wanted to keep your eyes shut and drift back off to sleep. The people around you were talking to you, encouraging you to stay awake and respond. You replied in mumbles and broken words, but enough for them to decipher. The pain had begun to die down, you were given medication regardless. A series of invasive tests were to be conducted. One of the doctors addressed you directly, “We have to lift your top to have a look, okay?” her voice was gentle. You nodded in response. As she lifted your top, the look of confusion on the doctors’ face worried you. She quickly jotted something down, whispering to the nurse present. The nurse left and came back with Sister Ruth. You tried to look down to see what they were looking at but were gently pushed down by the nurse. “Y/N, have you had any surgery or injury to the stomach before?” asked Sister Ruth. You shook your head ‘no’. The confusion around the room seemed to get stronger. You finally managed to sit up and look. Your stomach had two large, jagged scars all the way up. You didn’t know where these came from. They were slightly tender to the touch but looked like they had been there for years. You didn’t have them the night before. You began to panic, mumbling to the people in the room, delirium washing over you. You tried to get out of the bed and run somewhere. You wanted to be far from this country, away from the convent. You wanted to be held by your mother and be told it was all going to be okay. You couldn’t bare the thought of completing the six weeks here. You were sure you were going to go insane. Your movement became weaker as you thrashed around. You fought to stay awake, but the medication was kicking in. The hum of a lullaby could be heard in the distance. //// “I think we need to send her back home as soon as we can”. “I think that’s the best idea, but she can’t be taken back unaccompanied, especially not in her condition.” “I’ll take her,” Sister Ruth suggested. “That is all good and well Sister, but the feast day of the assumption of Mary is this Sunday, and on top of that, the bus to the airport doesn’t run until the Monday after. This is an important weekend in our diocese so emergency travel is almost impossible.” Sister Ruth sighed, her colleague was right, the girl would have to hold on a little longer before she would be able to get home. Before the conversation could continue, the girl in question began to stir. “Good afternoon Y/N, feeling any better?” You nodded in response, trying to figure out where the hell you were. “We’re in the Convent’s infirmary again. You discharged with a clean bill of health, so we brought you here just to keep an eye on you,” Sister Ruth smiled at you. You were told to freshen up, the cold water felt like heaven when you washed your face. This was the first look you had in the mirror since you came here. You felt like your face had changed a little. It seemed a little more mature, your resting bitch face seemed more intense than ever before. You blamed it on the lack of sleep and strange happenings around you, you were sure you’d be back to your normal self as soon as you left this forsaken place. However, the only thing you cared about now was what you were going to eat and what Claire was up to. //// The rest of the girls were off-site today. The sisters had decided to not put you in a sermon today due to the complaints of your snoring. The thought made you giggle. You decided to wander around the grounds of the convent, to finally take in the unique architecture and maybe find some hiding places for you and Claire along the way. You missed your friend and you needed someone to share your strange dreams with. Each arch of the of building was so meticulously carved. Every motif and line of scripture meant something. You could understand it but could not tell anyone what you understood. You hummed a tune from your dreams as you aimlessly wandered through the corridors, your fingertips running over the stone walls, taking in every detail and mapping the structure in your head. A voiced joined in your humming, suddenly snapping you out of your trance. The voice stopped as soon as you acknowledged it. Your mind was playing tricks on you again. Yet it sounded so familiar. You decided to head back to where the sisters were, maybe being alone wasn’t the best idea in these circumstances. However, there was one issue. You had no idea where you were. The corridor seemed endless, with no exit or entrance. You span to look to the other side, finding only a single, red door. Your brows knitted in confusion, you didn’t open or close any doors during your wander, you were sure of it. Yet there seemed to be no other way out, so you headed towards the door. You took a deep breath and looked back one more time, before pushing it open. You were expecting something horrific, but instead you were met with a little chapel. This must have been one of the smaller chapels in the Convent. The candles and incense were still burning. The smell seemed familiar. You took in the beautiful surroundings and tried to figure out if this chapel was dedicated to anyone in particular. Standing in the centre of the small room, you looked up to the stained glass. It was a large effigy of Saint Michael. The setting sun made the image glow. The hair looked like spun gold, the eyes a dazzling blue, starring into the depths of your very soul. You had started to hum again. Thinking to stay just a while longer to figure out why the face looked so familiar.

//// “What do you think Sister Y/N?” “hmm?” Sister Y/N stopped humming. “I asked, how do you think we should go about the repairs?” Sister Y/N had been given leave from any physical labour after being found passed out in front of her room. The following days were filled with intense stomach pain and coughing up blood. Mother Superior said it was a test from God. The boar an illusion created by the devil. Her recovery was attributed to a miracle, but Sister Y/N knew the truth. She had just mustered up enough strength to collect the necessary herbs and create a remedy. Herbal medicine was one of her strong points, just not one she could practice publicly. She now stood in the old chapel with some of the senior Sisters, the convent was in need of repair and the Monseigneur had requested for all the proposals to be complete before his return from the Vatican. The sisters looked at her expectantly. “I’ve been having strange dreams recently,” she started. “I’m wandering through the convent, but it looks so different.” The Sisters leaned in, paying more attention to the words. “Each stone, each wall, everything is so meticulously placed. As if the convent is protecting something. The arches are etched with scripture of protection, they seem to be a reminder of something, but I don’t know what,” she finished. “Did you see this room?” One of the sisters chirped up. Sister Y/N nodded. “The chapel is small but beautiful, hidden away, only those that are meant to find it will.” She looked up the window, “The most beautiful stained glass of Saint Michael watches over us, providing his divine protection,” she finishes. The sisters began muttering to themselves. “These dreams could be sign from God, maybe he wants us to improve the Convent in a certain way,” one of them suggested. “Maybe you could draw the plans up so we can all visualise it,” another suggested. Sister Y/N nodded in agreement, she had nothing better to do anyway and this would be the perfect excuse to enjoy the library before the bane of her existence returned. ////

Sister Y/N wasn’t sure if she really believed in the divine, but she did believe in dreams. Her mother had taught her that the dreams of a witch could be a message from the future, a look into what is to come and a possible path to take. Such a detailed dream had to mean something, she hoped drawing out her plans would bring some clarity. The library was silent, only the rhythmic sound of a pencil or the lighting of an occasional candle could be heard. Y/n drew well into the evening, missing dinner, and evening prayers to perfect her work. The peace did not last for long after. Humming interrupted her work. She knew exactly who it was. “Sister Y/N, you’ve become bold, haven’t you?” he stood behind her, watching her work. She fought the childish instinct to cover her papers. A gloved hand pulled a sheet from the pile, “Missing your evening prayers, and now boldly displaying clairvoyance in a house of God?” “It was a dream Father, nothing more,” she replied.

He finally put the papers down, leaning across her in a cat-like manner. He brought his face level with hers, his nose almost touching her cheek. He studied her, all the little twitches, the way she looked at him through the corner of her eye before quickly looking away. What caught his eye, however, was a strand of hair poking out from beneath her veil. She flinched as he reached for it, pulling the long strand out from its confines. The length and softness seemed to give him an idea. “I said I’d find a suitable punishment for you when I returned and I think now is the perfect time to start.” Sister Y/N was bout to protest, he silenced her by yanking the strand of hair. “change into your nightwear and come straight to my chambers. Failure to comply and the village will wake to a pyre” She didn’t need to be told twice, already in his bad books, scurrying away. Michael looked at the plans again, his grin widening with every page. A few tweaks and they would be perfect. //// Sister Y/N ran to her room, her heart rate at the highest it had ever been. She tried not to slam the door as she got to her dorm. She noticed something strange about the room. Sister Carissa was nowhere to be found. She should have returned with Father Langdon but wasn’t here. Not even her bag. Before she could dwell any further, the words of the Monseigneur rang through her head again. She feared even more punishment for being late, so she ran to his chambers. //// Father Langdon had asked her to come in before she could even knock. She slowly opened the door, hoping deep down inside that it was a vivid dream. She stepped inside, fiddling with her hands and awaiting instructions. The man took great joy in her nervousness. “Fill that bowl with warm water and bring it over here,” he pointed. Sister Y/N nodded in response. As she grabbed the bowl, Michael gripped her wrist, raising a brow. “Yes Father,” she responded. He let go of her, making himself comfortable on the edge of his bed. She brought the bowl back, waiting for instructions on where to put it. He pointed at his feet. She knelt down, placing the bowl. She began to question how this was a punishment. She was going to find out. She began to rice but was stopped by the man. “Did I ask you to rise?” she shook her head. “Kneel” She did. “Do you recall the story of Jesus at the pharisees house? Tell me what was significant about it.” “The woman with the alabaster jar, washed and anointed the Lord’s feet with her hair,” as she finished recounting the story, her eyes widened in mortification. She prayed that this wasn’t her punishment. Michael gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head so she could look up at him. “Some in this convent would scalp you for this opportunity. Hurry up now, you have morning prayers in a few hours.” Sister Y/N hesitated. This had to be the worst form of humiliation and sacrilege, she was unwilling to give this man the status of a god. Her hesitation annoyed him. He let out a huff before tugging at the roots of her hair, almost pulling her up to her full height. “I will ask once more or so God help you Y/N,” she growled. She quickly wiped her tears when he let her go. She pulled her hair to one side, the sight of her exposed neck made Father Langdon shiver. She finally put her hair in the water, washing his feet just like he had ordered her too. Her eyes were blurry, and her nose was stinging with the tears she was holding back. Michael paid no mind to her comfort, running his fingers over her exposed neck. He was sure he could get drunk of the satisfaction he was feeling in this moment. No drug could recreate the euphoria. When she was humiliated to his satisfaction, he pulled his feet away. Sister Y/N let out a shaky breath, she wouldn’t wish this upon her worst enemy. Father Langdon tilted her chin up again, this time she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “Have you learned your lesson?” “Yes Father.” His thumb traced her lips, before he pushed it inside her mouth, relishing in the velvetiness he wanted to feel elsewhere. His cock twitched at the thought of it. “Next time you run that wicked tongue of yours, I’ll cut it out and maybe then you could take a vow of silence.” He pulled his finger out with a pop, smearing the remaining saliva on her face. He pulled back completely, standing, and walking to the other side of the room. He let out a shaky sigh. He was facing away from her; she couldn’t see him palming himself in her presence. “Now go before I punish you further,” he barked. Y/N got up on shaky knees, before darting out of the room. She wished to forget this night. //// The convent was shocked at Sister Y/N turning up on time. She attended all morning prayers and evening masses. She avoided any eye contact with the Monseigneur, however. She did not need to be reminded of that night. However, something was eating away at her. She hadn’t seen Sister Carissa at all. At first, she thought it was due to her finally being on time for things. Then she asked the Mother Superior; apparently Carissa had stayed behind for some reason. Y/N didn’t buy it. Something was wrong. Maybe it was the new swarm of flies driving her crazy. They had turned up a few days ago, no one knew why. Sister Y/N went back to her room for the first time in a while. The last few were spent in prayer or shed be found in the library. A rancid smell had taken over the room, making her gag. The swarm of flies was the seemed to be terrible in there. As she looked around the room for some clues, she noticed the ants on the floor, all heading towards her friend’s bed. She got down to take a look, hoping to find a dead bird or some other animal of the sort. The countryside was prone to these things. Instead, she was met with the most grotesque sight. Sister Carissa’s lifeless eyes stared back at her; bone exposed from the rot. A shriek rang through the convent.

Next>>>

[fanfictionaries]

Little Lamb - Star’s Follower Celebration Writing Challenge

Prompt: “If you need anything, just call me, okay?” 

Pairing: Steve Rogers X female reader

Summary: Being the newest member of the Star Spangled Singers hadn't been the easiest thing. After becoming the victim of a cruel joke by the rest of the dancers, you remember the kind offer a certain Captain America had given you earlier that day. 

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Fluff, smut, heavy petting, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Thank you to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ for this lovely challenge! 

***

You stared into the mirror, breathing deeply as you the applied lipstick. Careful strokes of vermillion paired well with your complexion, brightening your face. Black lined your upper lids to symmetric perfection. Your scalp ached from the numerous pins that held your curls into place. The blue velvet halter of your costume fit you like a glove. You were the picture of perfection, but only on the outside. On the inside, a shaky, apprehensive girl screamed at the top of her lungs. The atmosphere of the room around you seemed to match perfectly with your inner turmoil. Margret couldn’t find her skirt. Frances couldn’t find her shoes. Evelyn’s hair wouldn’t cooperate. Doris needed new makeup. Alice felt fat. Irene couldn’t get her steady back home to write her. Gossip, chit-chat, and laughter filled the air as the women of the Star Spangled Singers readied themselves for their first west coast performance. However, despite the buzz of chaos around you, the only distinct sound in your ears was the thumping of your own heartbeat.

Today was the big day. You’d finally gotten your big break and you weren’t going to mess this up. You hoped. Having been a dancer since birth, you were ecstatic to be the new member of the traveling USO show. It was unfortunate that the previous girl had to break her ankle in order for you to be there, but details were so trivial. No. You were just tickled pink to be there. To stand on stage in hundreds of cities, raising money for the war with your fellow dancers and Captain America.

Speaking of the star-spangled man himself; you briefly spied on the golden-haired Hercules through your mirror as he sat in the corner writing in his little book. He seemed to be the only semblance of peace and serenity in the room. The worn leather binding of his notebook looked butter-soft as it molded perfectly in one of his large hands; the other gripped a small nub of a pencil as he furiously scribbled. For such a fine specimen, he was surprisingly shy. Throughout the last week of rehearsals, he’d stuck to himself, only speaking when spoken to. Any time the more mugbug girls of the group attempted to lay it on thick for him, fluttering their eyelashes and pouting seductively, he’d merely blushed and found an excuse to extricate himself from the situation. Captain America seemed to have no time for pick me ups. You wondered if he had a girl back home. If he did, she was the luckiest gal in the world, what with a man who barely batted an eye at the daily encounter of half-naked women around him.

“Ready for the big day, honey?” Ruth asked as she stood over your shoulder, her words kind, but her tone taunting. That had seemed to be the only downside to your life-long dream. The other girls weren’t as nice as you thought they’d be. For all the kind and bright smiles, they wore on the stage, the façade of niceties quickly faded the moment they disappeared behind the curtain. Most of them were decent to each other, aside from Ruth, but none had seemed to take to you yet.

Still, you weren’t ready to accept defeat. You wanted to fit in, and you wanted them to like you. So, when you answered, it was wholly sincere, “Yea, I’m really excited. It’s gonna’ be killer diller!”

“Well, aren’t you an eager beaver,” said Ruth, rolling her eyes with a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, lay off Ruth. She’s just a lamb,” said Doris, walking past in a hurry as she clipped on an earring. “Isn’t that right Little Lamb?”

Little Lamb. A nickname they had given you your first day of rehearsals when you’d walked in wide-eyed and full of nerves. You weren’t sure if it was meant to be endearing or mocking and at this point you were afraid to ask. Smiling at Doris, who returned it tight lipped, you placed your hat just right over your curls and pinned it into place. With another deep breath, you stared confidently into the mirror, you had this.

An hour later, it was evidently clear that you had not had it. While the performance overall had not been a total disaster, you were acutely aware of all your slip ups. A paddle turn, in place of a step turn.  A step ball change, in place of a toe ball change. You’d been half a beat off for the last four measures and you’d missed your mark by a good six inches. Needless to say, you were a failure. Sitting heavily into the chair of your vanity, you let your head rest in your folded arms as the rest of the girls swirled around the room, removing costumes and once again talking up a storm.

“Hey.” The deep resounding tone of a male voice made you turn your head, to see Captain America himself, braced against the edge of the vanity top next to you. The mask portion of his costume had been removed, leaving his hair a bit sweaty and mussed. “Y/N, right?”

“You’d be correct. Captain America, right?” you joked, smiling up at him in tired defeat, never even bothering to lift your head up. He laughed, a deep, full sound that caused your heart to flutter.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly. Steve Rogers,” Steve held his hand out to you. You sat up, taking his hand in yours briefly as you tried to fight the heat creeping onto your face. Your throat became dry, tightening up on you as you shook his hand. You were far from a khaki wacky gal, but there was no denying the effect Steve’s bashful charm had on you.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Rogers,” you responded.

“Please, uh, call me Steve. Just Steve.”

The sentiment made you smile wide. Steve. You liked it.  

At the sight of your pearly whites, Steve shifted uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he got onto whatever he had come over to say, “I, um, well the other dames, uh dancers I mean. They all know that—I mean I’m not as bad as I was at first but—what I’m trying to say is—gosh, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?” Steve let out a small exasperated laugh and it became very apparent why he never spoke. He was adorably rotten at it.

You laughed with him, light and airy. “You’re doing much better than you think,” you said. It was hard not to look at the man endearingly. Everything about him screamed genuine and sweet. “And don’t worry—” you consoled him “—you did swell tonight. Much better than I did. No matter what you were like when you first started out, it seems you’re quite the natural performer now.”

“You think so?” Steve asked, surprised.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely. Hey, I think everyone was going to get some food after this. Do you want to come with?”

Steve seemed caught off guard by your invitation, “Oh, well that’s very kind, but I’m gonna’ have to rain check.”

“Oh, okay.” You were a little disappointed at his answer, but you didn’t push him.  

“I guess I just wanted to say that I know how hard it can be, being the odd man out I mean. So, if you need help with anything or just a friend, I’m at the end of the hall on our floor. Room 326. Just give me a call.”

“Thanks Steve, that’s so kind,” you answered, touched and surprised at his offer. You watched as he pushed off from your vanity and began to head towards the door, before spinning around to face you.

“Remember. If you need anything, just call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You didn’t expect to ever take Steve up on his offer. Especially so soon. You were a big girl. You could take care of yourself. You didn’t need Captain America fixing your problems for you. But, a few hours later when you finally managed to make it back to your hotel, feet bloody and blistered, calves aching and sore, you realized you might be in need of a friend after all.

You had gone out with the rest of the girls. At first, things had been fine as you all settled into a plethora of booths at the small late-night diner. But then, Ruth had started in on you. Really busting your chops. A few girls weakly tried to calm her down, but they didn’t seem all that committed to defending you. Snidely, she picked apart every flaw of your performance. After a bit you excused yourself to go powder your nose before you snapped your cap. Once you’d cooled down and decided to not let Ruth’s cruel words get to you, you’d walked out of the powder room with as much moxie as you could muster. However, the rest of the Star Spangle Singers were nowhere to be found. They had left you.

It would have just been a cruel joke and nothing more, had it not been for the fact that you had all shared taxis there. You were in a strange city. You had no idea where you were. You had no idea how to hail a taxi. And you most definitely had no idea how to get back to your hotel. You walked for hours, up hills and down streets until finally, you found your hotel. But by that time, the heels you had originally deemed sensible, were anything but. Limping, feet and pride incontrovertibly in pain, you made the even worse realization that you were out of bandages. Sighing deeply in defeat, you staggered down the hall to Steve’s door.

You knocked, short and firm, conflicting emotions coursing through you. On the one hand, you didn’t want him to answer – the night was embarrassing enough. On the other hand, the pool of blood in your shoes said to hell with dignity. At first you heard nothing on the other side of the door. Maybe he was asleep. It was pretty late. Just as you were about to turn around and head towards your room, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled and sleepy looking Steve Rogers.

“Y/N, hi,” Steve greeted you, a light pink blush coming across his face as he looked down at his attire. A thin white undershirt hugged his impressive torso and a pair of khaki’s hung low on his hips, undone, revealing light blue shorts underneath.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” you said, looking up at him sheepishly.

“No, no. I was just—I was up. What can I do for you (Y/N)?”

“I was, um, wondering if you happened to have any bandages,” you told him, looking pointedly down at your feet.

Steve’s eyes followed yours, growing twice their size when he took in the sight of your bloodied feet.

“Geez! Yea, come on in. I think I have something.” Steve moved aside, opening the door to his room wider, allowing you to enter.

Tentatively, you stepped inside, sitting at the small desk in the corner as Steve disappeared into the bathroom. Your feet screamed relief as you finally took the pressure off of them. When he returned, bandages in hand, Steve knelt on the floor by your feet. Placing a hand on the bottom of one of your shoes, he looked up at you, silently asking for permission to remove it. You nodded, wincing slightly at the friction of the patent leather against the freshly opened wounds. First the left and then the right was removed, hitting the hard wood with a dull thud. Cradling your feet in his hands, he inspected the battered flesh reverently.

“Um,” another deep blush spread across his face as he stared at your feet, “I can’t patch them up with—I mean you might have to—do you want me to or do you—”

He stuttered as his thumbs stroked lightly at the stockings covering your ankles.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, understanding what he was trying to say. “Yea, I can do it.”

Steve averted his eyes, looking up towards the ceiling, as you rucked up the bottom of your skirt to unclip the top of your stockings and roll the thin material down your legs. You hissed when the fabric peeled off of your raw feet. Placing the bloodied stockings on the ground, you gingerly placed your feet back in Steve’s hands. He took the action as an okay to return back to his ministrations, reaching for the wet washcloth beside him first. His hands were gentle as he dabbed away the dried blood from your skin. It was quiet in the room. Only the sounds of your breathing and occasional sharp inhale of pain could be heard. Although your skirts had been pressed back down, you couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes lingered for a second on the expanse of leg that was slightly more exposed than before.  

“You’re quite good at that,” you remarked, watching as his fingers moved lightly, but with a practiced ease over the delicate flesh.

“My mother was a nurse and I’ve, uh, had a lot of practice.”

“Really?”

“Yea, I’ve had the tar beat out of me more times than I’d care to count,” said Steve, grinning slightly, as if thinking back on it fondly.

“Well, see, that I can’t imagine.” At your comment, Steve’s demeanor seemed to change.

“Why’s that? ‘Cause of the way I look?” he asked, a bitter edge to his voice as he focused entirely on applying ointment to your opened blisters.

Sure, Steve was tall, muscular, strong. You’d personally seen him lift a motorcycle over his head – however he managed to do that. But that wasn’t why you couldn’t imagine him getting beaten up.

“No. I just can’t picture anyone wanting to hurt someone so sweet,” you answered honestly. Steve’s hands stilled, the gauze slackening a bit as he paused in the middle of wrapping it around the arch of your foot. You had clearly caught him off guard with your compliment.

“I was the little guy back in Brooklyn,” began Steve, ignoring your statement. It didn’t bother you however, instead you listened whole-heartedly as he opened up to you. “People always like to pick on the little guy; makes them feel bigger, I guess. And, I was never smart enough to walk away. Bucky was always—”

“Bucky?” you asked, wanting to know every detail.

“My pal from back in Brooklyn. We practically grew up together. Bucky was always looking out for me. He used to accuse me of liking to get beat up. But I just never had patience for bullies.” Steve finished his story as he finished wrapping your last foot, “There you are. All patched up.”

“Thank you, Steve. Really.”

Stretching your legs out in front of you, you carefully pointed your toes, surprised to find that, with the application of ointment and bandages, they already felt infinitely better. Steve stood, grabbing the bloodied stockings and washcloth before disappearing once again into the bathroom to discard of them. He came back just as you were attempting to stand. At first you were fine, but two steps in and the muscles of your calves twisted and clenched, and you were going down. Steve caught you easily, allowing you to brace yourself against his arms. You held onto him tightly, afraid that your legs would give out from under you at any moment.

“Whoa, are you alright?”

“Yea, yea,” you laughed shakily, “Just my calves cramping up. Don’t worry, these pegs have seen worse days.”

“Why don’t you stay for a little while longer? Just until you feel like you can walk again,” Steve suggested, concern evident across his face. You nodded, this time sitting down at the edge of the bed with a sigh. Reaching down, you took your right leg in hand and began to massage the muscle. You felt the bed dip beside you and glanced up to see Steve staring at your hands as you worked the muscle between your fingers.

“What? You want do the other Captain?” you teased him. However, your impish smile faded to a look of surprise when Steve answered.

“Sure.”

Shifting your body to face his, you placed your left leg into his lap. The sensation was painful, but oh so good as he firmly rubbed your calves. The tense, knotted muscle easily gave under his grip. You sighed, leaning on your hands and letting your head loll back.

“I think you’re sweet too,” Steve spoke up in the silence. Lifting your head, you found him staring intently at your legs.

“Really?” you asked dumbly, unable to think of a better response.

“Yea. You’re so nice to everyone, even when they’re real jerks to you. They’re just jealous of you,” said Steve resolutely, looking up at you with a genuine smile. The moment your eyes met you were unable to look away. The azure depth of them pulling you in like some magnetic force. You studied his face, the high cheekbones, strong jaw, kind eyes, plush lips. He was the kindest, handsomest man you’d ever met, and he thought you were sweet. Steve thought you were sweet. Your heart could just burst.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. Deep and hesitant.

“Yes?” Your voice was breathy. High and anticipatory.

“Would you be insulted if I tried to kiss you right now?”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t Steve.”

Delicately lifting your leg and placing it back down on the bed, he shifted closer to you, leaning in towards you. His lips were soft, tentative. He approached you in a manner so gentle, it could have brought tears to your eyes. Large hands cupped your face feather light and you sighed into the kiss running your tongue along his top lip. Steve’s grip tightened at the warm, wet sensation and he opened his mouth to yours. In turn, his own tongue swept past your lips, exploring eagerly. It was when the tip swept across the ridged roof of your mouth that you moaned lowly, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Boldly, you used his heavy body as leverage to sit up on your knees and straddle his lap. Careful not to fully seat yourself, you kissed him feverishly.

You whined lightly when Steve pulled away from you, the heavy mix of your grasping breaths filling the space between you.

“Y/N…I’ve—I’ve never—”

Oh.

“Have you never touched a woman, Steve?” you asked, brushing the strands of blond from his forehead.

Steve swallowed thickly, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your body, poised on his lap like a present all his own. He shook his head.

“Would you like to?”

You watched a fire ignited behind Steve’s eyes, his answering coming in the form of a heated kiss. His touch was still gentle, but there was a firm bite to it that had not been there before. His hands still remained on your face – one cupping the back of your head and the other on your cheek. But you could tell from the way his thumbs twitched and fingers clenched that he wanted to move them. He wanted to touch you. Reaching up, you circled his wrists and pulled them down to your waist.

“You can touch me Stevie—” the pet name slipped past your lips as his hands flexed around your curved hips “—Touch all you like. I’ll let you know if you’re doing something wrong.”

As if all he had been waiting for was your permission, Steve became a man possessed. Gripping you harshly, he pulled you down until you were fully seated on his lap, causing a small gasp to leave your throat. His lips traveled from your mouth down to your jaw and then your neck—kissing, licking, sucking. Those hands, the same hands that had delicately patched your aching feet, reached up, deftly working the buttons at the front of your dress. Once unbuttoned, he pulled back, taking a moment to stare at you. His eyes worshipped you, looking at you with such reverence and awe that for a moment you questioned if you hadn’t been replaced by some divine figure. His fingertips brushed up and down the soft silk of your brassiere. Gooseflesh appeared across your body, your nipples pebbling before his very eyes at the teasing touch. Pupils blown wide, he focused on the hardened nub in front of him, glancing up at you.

“May I?”

“Yes. Please Stevie.”

Slowly, he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, his tongue swiping across it through the thin fabric. You mewled, back arching and hips bucking. He moved to the other nipple, hand coming up to cup your forgotten breast. Your breathing picked up speed, the pleasure coursing through you. Pulling harshly at the top of the silk material, a resounding rip rang through the room. The remaining scraps of your brassiere hung from the metal wire and Steve’s hands. You should have been embarrassed. He should have been regretful. But neither of you felt any emotion aside from pure lust. At the site of your bare breasts, Steve’s eyes lit up, and he dived forward once again. While he placed lavish kisses to your breasts, his hands traveled south, rucking up your skirt to touch the naked skin of your thighs. Higher and higher they traveled until one hand was placed on the swell of your bum and the other teased your covered center.

“Stevie!” you gasped, your head bent forward and arms wrapping around his neck.

Your head was spinning at the mixture of gentle exploration and rough eagerness that came from Steve as he took from you with enthusiasm. Another rip of silk and the delicious sting of fabric tight against skin and your panties were gone, leaving yourself open and vulnerable to Steve’s touch. His fingers stilled once again, stopping just short of your heat. Catching your breath, you extricated yourself from Steve’s body and pushed on his chest. Taking the hint, he scooted back, pulling you easily with him, until his back was against the headboard.

“Prop your knees up for me Stevie,” you said, patting his legs lightly. He obeyed, bending his knees and bracing his bare feet on the mattress behind you. You leaned back against his legs, unwrapping yours from underneath you. You splayed yourself across his lap, stretching each leg out fully on either side of him. Pulling at your already high-risen skirt, you pulled it higher until it was around your waist and you were completely bare to him. Steve inhaled sharply, unable to pull his gaze away from your glistening folds. Reaching forward, you grabbed his right hand and brought it to you. Guiding him, you showed him all your favorite ways to be touched. Steve listened with rapt attention, and when you released his hand, you were far from displeased at his ministrations. His fingers stroked and circled in all the right ways.

“Like that? Is this good?” asked Steve, his brow furrowed in concentration and jaw slack.

“Yes, Stevie. Just like that. So good,” you whimpered, reaching forward to the impressively large bulge in his already unbuttoned khakis. Dipping your hand into his shorts, you pulled him from his confines. Steve stuttered and paused as you wrapped your hand around the base of his erection.

“Y/N, oh doll.”

“Don’t stop Stevie. It felt so nice. I just wanna’ make you feel good too.”

Steve began again, breathing heavy as you stroked him up and down. He slid a single finger past your entrance, aided by the sheer amount of arousal dripping from you. The both of you keened, hips rolling and lifting as you worked each other towards your release.

“Y/N, I’m—I’m gonna,” Steve moaned, his hips moving more erratically as you gripped him firmly, twisting your wrist at the head of his length with each pass.

“Me too Stevie. Me too.” And you were. You could feel the sweet release building as his hands massaged you inside and out.

Steve’s lips found yours, bridging the gap between your bodies as you desperately worked towards each other’s finish. It wasn’t until you felt the hot, sticky release of Steve splash across your hand, that you found your own release. You moaned into each other’s mouth, tongues and lips and teeth clashing together as ecstasy took hold of you both.

It was shortly after Steve grabbed a washrag to clean the both of you, that you found comfortable sleep in each other’s arms. Wrapped in his warm embrace, head on his firm chest, you awoke in the early morning. Rays of first sunlight shone through the window, casting light on Steve’s handsome face. He looked so darling when he slept, his long lashes laying delicately on his cheeks, plush pink lips parted slightly as he breathed deeply. Silently, you slipped from his grasp, noting the sweet way he reached for you in his sleep before turning over and hugging the empty space you once occupied. You tiptoed to the door, pleased to find your feet barely hurt and your legs felt more like jelly than stiff dead weight.

“Well, well, well,” a feminine voice rang out as you slid into the hallway.

“Christopher Columbus!” you exclaimed, holding your shoes tighter to your chest as you turned to find Ruth, leant against the doorway to her room. Arms crossed, she appraised your debauched appearance and then the door you had just left from.

“Not such a little lamb after all.”

Squaring your shoulders, you looked her dead in the eyes before giving her a haughty smirk, “No. Not at all.”

Taglist:

@caffiend-queen​

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

[snowbellewells]

“Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go”

A @cssecretsanta2k19​ gift for @xhookswenchx​

“Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go”

By: @snowbellewells​

This is my belated @cssecretsanta2k19​ gift for @xhookswenchx​ ~ and I truly am sorry for making you wait extra days, Lovely. It was such a busy December, then I traveled home, had family engagements, and so on.  But talking with you and learning different things about the show and the holidays that you enjoyed, put this idea in my head early. I just needed the time to write it down.  I have very much enjoyed being your Secret Santa.  I hope that your Christmas was Merry, that you will have a Happy and Blessed New Year. Please enjoy this story gift just for you!

Summary: Emma and Killian take their crew on a holiday road trip to visit old friends and make new Christmas memories…   A CS canon divergent in which the realms have been joined as they were in Season 7’s finale, but Henry has not left the Land Without Magic as he did in Season 7.  I always imagined him going out into the non-magical world for college, to write books, and so on (at least once it became clear they weren’t all going to make a permanent move back to the Enchanted Forest).  So for the purposes of this fic, he is home for the holidays from college, and Emma and Killian also have two little ones of their own. I used the daughter of my fictional invention, Morgan Ruth Jones, rather than Hope.  She’s appeared in some of my other fics, and I’m kinda attached to her.  I’ve gathered you enjoy original CS kids in your writing and reading as well, so I hope you won’t mind that liberty taken. I know that Westley Graham is not as completely original as I thought it was when I dreamed it up, but I love it too (especially since the show gave us so many Liams to keep track of already without naming a son of Emma and Killian’s Liam David as I once would have done).  Westley for the character in “Princess Bride” (‘As you wish’ makes that seem appropriate) and Graham for the hero they should have been naming baby boys after in canon.  You also said you really enjoyed the “Frozen” characters in 4a, so I have tried to incorporate them - and found it to be a fun new character writing stretch.  I truly do hope you will find this fun to read!

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

“Papa, how much longer?” a tiny voice piped up from the backseat over Killian and Emma Jones’ shoulders with the wheedling tone only a four-year-old’s impatience could muster. “Are we almost there?”

Emma glanced over at her husband with bland exasperation and humor mixed together before swiveling in her seat as much as possible to look back at their daughter Morgan where she sat in her car seat behind Killian, idly alternating between swinging her feet and singing little nonsense songs she made up for herself, staring out the window at the changing scenery as they traveled from one united realm to another, heading ever steadily north toward Arendelle to visit Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Morgan’s best friend Sonja, Princess Anna and her husband’s little girl.

Henry, comfortably on his long winter break from his senior year at Boudoin College, had his nose buried in a detective whodunit, and though he was usually quite patient with his much-younger sister, he seemed to be craving some reading time to himself that Emma was willing to humor. She would like to keep them both fairly quiet so that Westley Graham, their youngest at just barely five months, didn’t wake up quite yet from where he was peacefully sleeping in his own backward-facing car seat between his two siblings and where Emma could reach him if needed.

Killian, for his part, chuckled indulgently, his sparkling blue gaze sliding back over to return Emma’s look before answering his little girl, seeming infinitely patient and making Emma love him even more all over again “We are getting closer, little Love,” he assured calmly. “You’ve been very good - and we should be there within the hour now.”

For a moment, Morgan merely nodded and hummed to herself in satisfaction as she watched the scenery pass by out the window. Once they had left Storybrooke behind, the buildings had given way to the forest, thicker and more wild as they had passed through the land of Emma’s birthright rule - the Enchanted Forest. Since then, the forest had thinned out, and slowly the flatter land became foothills, which then turned into snow capped mountains - something which really did seem to almost sparkle before their eyes - not to mention the imaginative view of a toddler. But it wasn’t long before she piped up again, still obviously a bit impatient and unable to hold it in. “Papa? Can you sing a song? … Please?”

Emma snort-laughed at the way her husband’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, not expecting that particular request if his expression could be any indication. Shaking his head, he admitted defeat rather easily for a once-fearsome pirate of the Seven Seas, especially when she playfully jostled his shoulder, egging Morgan on and adding the she would like to hear him as well.

It wasn’t long before Killian’s clear, strong voice was ringing out within the walls of their newer smallish SUV, having left the Bug at home in favorite of more passenger leg room and space for the wealth of presents they were bringing along, both from their immediate family and her parents and other Storybrooke folks who had come to know the Arendellian visitors when they were in the Land Without Magic some years back. The tune her pirate had selected was a rollicking sea shanty - one of their daughter’s favorites - that he and his crew had once sung on the Jolly Roger many years ago as they circled the waters of Neverland endlessly. His song and its playful, raucous melody seemed practically bouncing around the interior of the vehicle, swaying with the rolling buoyancy of its rhythm and pulling Henry from his reading to grin at the song he had heard countless times before. Thankfully Westley didn’t seem in the least disturbed, sleeping right through the impromptu serenade, and Morgan was giggling and clapping her little hands along with her papa’s song. Emma soon found herself singing along as well, watching her family in their joyous uproar, and marveling at the reality that this was the sort of cozy Christmas journey she could have now.

Killian seemed so into his song, and his children’s entertainment, that Emma couldn’t help checking to be certain he was still paying attention to the road ahead. It hadn’t really been until the last couple of years that Killian had begun to take over some driving duties for them on longer trips; having learned to drive capably well before that, but never fully becoming comfortable with - or trusting - their “horseless death traps”, as he often called them. Modern automobiles still seemed smoky, loud, and entirely too unpredictable to a person long used to ships on the sea or riding horseback and in carriages - not to mention one whose first experience with them had been being run down on the road and seriously injured.

All the same, he shot her a look of exaggerated affront as he finished singing, waggling those wildly expressive eyebrows of his at her and pressing his hooked arm to his chest in further drama. “Honestly, Wife? Don’t you trust me more than that by now?” Taking his hook from where it covered his heart, he gestured out the window to indicate the lane beside them. “I may not be as old a hand at driving as most, but I won’t drive us under a semi trailer like that Griswold fellow on the magic box.”

It was Henry who snorted his laughter then, at the reference to National Lampoon’s which they had watched the night before, prior to setting off on their journey. Shaking his head at his stepdad’s odd way of reassuring him, and humored in spite of himself, Henry placed a marker in his book and more fully joined their antics, now that they were drawing nearer to their friend’s kingdom anyway. Danger and adventure, or just taking a family trip; be it Christmas or some random everyday in between, there was never a dull moment with their little crew.

~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~

When they entered the Arendelle borders and pulled up to the palace’s front gates, within 45 minutes’ time just as Killian had promised Morgan, the sense of awed anticipation settled over all of them, the air inside the car going quiet at the stunning beauty that met their eyes. Somewhere within the last half hour or so, light flurries of snow had begun to fall around them, looping and twirling through the slowly purpling sky as afternoon inched closer to evening. The ground had already been covered in a picturesque light dusting of white, but it was growing deeper as the additional fluffy flakes continued.

Thankfully, ice didn’t seem to be a part of this particular snowy scene; the roads had remained safely passable and they had made good time. Four uniformed guards two on either side of the wide, silvery sparkling arch and gates of the front entrance to the Queen’s castle and grounds, bowed respectfully as the passageway opened for them. Emma had spoken to her dear friend via magic mirror that morning before they set out, and their arrival had clearly been anticipated.

Despite having been there several times before by that point, all over them sat in openmouthed adoration that overcame them for a few breathless instants. The setting sun hit the gate and front of the castle, sending glitter and sparks of light out to dazzle their eyes. It was as if the whole structure were indeed beautifully coated in ice - and yet there was none of the frigid austerity one might once have feared. Queen Elsa of Arendelle has long since found her equilibrium, allowing her the self-acceptance and open understanding to balance the cold with genuine warmth. She learned to love every part of herself - including her powers - just as she had once helped Emma to do, and as Killian had reminded her ever since.

Their vehicle had barely parked, and they were just stepping out and stretching their tired limbs when they heard familiar voices calling their names, a childish squeal of delight yelping Morgan’s in particular, the sound of several pairs of feet hurrying over freshly fallen snow (well, feet and one set of reindeer hooves) and then they were engulfed in a flurry of hugs and handshakes by the royal family themselves. Anna was predictably firing questions at them as quickly as she could voice them, about their trips, the rest of their family, Belle and the library, without even allowing them time to answer. Kristoff was shaking Killian’s hand and accepting baggage and gift wrapped boxes to lead them inside. Sven snuffled around Henry’s pockets and Morgan’s hair seeking out carrots and other treats as well as providing his own animal greeting. But through the melee, Elsa pressed through to wrap Emma in a fiercely tight hug for several long moments. When she did pull back, it was with a watery smile and unshed tears in her eyes to match those which started in Emma’s.

“I’m so glad all of you have come,” she stated fervently, that sweet, melodious voice trembling with sincerity beyond its usual poise. “Come in, come in.  We’ll get you warm and settled, then we can get caught up.”

Emma nodded, pressing the queen’s hand tightly in her own, before turning to grab more luggage and unfasten Westley from his car seat to do as Elsa suggested.

“Let me help you,” her friend offered, holding out her arms to take the still-sleepy child so Emma could reach the suitcase behind. “May I?”

Emma didn’t hesitate for even a second, easily passing her just-barely-stirring-to-wakefulness infant into her friend’s arms, moving her hand gently so Elsa could cradle Westley’s head and crooning lowly to him until he settled again, rooting deeper into the young queen’s arms as a pleased and rosy smile pinked her cheeks.

Throwing a surreptitious glance over to Killian, only to find him watching her with a comforting smile that already knew where her mind had gone and wished he could undo the old hurt, Emma shook her head to clear the memory as best she could and send her husband a small grin as reassurance that she would be fine. As much as she had tried to banish the moment from her mind, and as much as the sharpest stinging slap of betrayal had faded, Emma still saw her own mother pulling little Neal away from her, protectively fearing her magic and not letting Emma hold her younger brother. Intellectually, Emma knew her mother loved her, magic or no, realized that the knee-jerk reaction had not been aimed to hurt her… and yet… it had.

Watching Elsa as various emotions flitted across her face while cradling her friend’s youngest in her arms, gazing down at the drowsy babe adoringly, Emma knew Elsa had felt that same fear and suspicion she had, and that perhaps Elsa had almost resignedly expected her request to be denied, knew that parental protectiveness all too well, and had been thrilled when she was granted trust instead.

Little Westley Graham did nothing more than flutter his eyelids briefly without fully rousing and gave a slight coo of contentment as the Queen bowed her head to press a light kiss to the top of his downy, sandy-colored hair. “Come on then everyone,” she suggested cheerfully, looking as merry and confident as they had ever seen her and leaving Emma blessedly assured of her friend’s happiness.  “There’s hot chocolate with plenty of marshmallows in the large sitting room.”

She led the way, with Killian, Henry, and Kristoff bringing up the rear to make sure no overexcited little girls, snowmen, or reindeer were left behind. It didn’t take long to find their luggage placed in their rooms, their coats and snow boots shucked off, and all of them seated comfortably scattered around the large open room full of soft chairs and sofas, a roaring fire in the hearth at one end, and plates of toast and jam, cookies, doughnuts, scones and a whole pot of rich hot chocolate with marshmallows set out for the taking.

Conversation hummed warmly throughout the room as the kids played; Henry showing Olaf, Sonja, and his little sister how to make a chain of snow angels for the tree while the four adults caught up on all that had happened since they were last together. Westley had woken up, but to everyone’s surprise, the little boy had not cried or fussed for his mother, and so Elsa still held him gladly. His guileless blue eyes, the mirrored hue of his pirate father’s, blinked up at her curiously, looked more enthralled that concerned by the less familiar person holding him. One pudgy little hand unclenched to reach up toward her almost startlingly white braid and wrapped around the end of it, tugging gently with his tiny fist, and burbling happily as he did.

Elsa practically giggled, a musical, enchanting sound that the rest of them had rarely heard, and a light carefree look graced her face beautifully. “You really are quite a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she whispered to the little one softly.

She did eventually hand Westley back to Emma when he began to wiggle and wanted to eat. Once Emma returned with him after his feeding, she found the Queen of Arendelle seated cross-legged on the floor with Morgan and her niece watching wide-eyed beside her as Elsa effortlessly shaped and reshaped whorls and twists of ice into glittering ornaments she handed them to place on a tree they had left bare for that very entertainment. The girls let out little ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of excitement and surprise with each shape that seemed to bloom from Elsa’s hands into thin air. Each new creation brough exclamations of delight, and the two children then ran to their papas at the tree to lift them up to place them high on the branches, then hurried back to see what ‘Auntie Elsa’ would create next.

As the decorating eventually wound down, the two little whirlwinds huffing and puffing from all their trips back and forth over the length of the room, and Elsa lightly chuckling at their theatrics, Killian came to sit near them as well, gathering Morgan into his lap and nodding encouraging at Sonja until she scooted up close to his side as well. Soon he was telling them a story of the first time he saw snow fall at sea as a young lad. He remembered how it looked trailing down to rest on nearly frozen arctic water, where their captain had unwisely taken them too far north for the season.

He was relating how his older brother Liam had distracted him by encouraging his wonder at the beauty of the sight. Killian himself had not realized until much later - a similar instance on his own ship facing the very real danger of ice floes in the water and the precarious travel a ship must make in the depths of winter driving the memory home - just how much danger they had been in that night as he had simply marveled at what seemed to his young mind cold falling stars of sparkling light. “He said each one was unique - no other could exactly take the place of the one before. Like people, Liam said they were…” Killian nearly whispered this last over the sudden lump in his throat, seemingly lost in another time and place. Emma reached out a hand to rest upon his knee, and he came back to them with a bit of a start, the faroff gaze clearing from his eyes.  “Like us even,” he added. “We might have been expendable slaves to most - but we mattered, at least to each other, and he always made sure I knew that.”

Both of their daughters had drifted off to sleep by then; the excitement of the day overtaking them once they had settled in to listen to Killian’s quiet, lilting voice. Kristoff came to lift Sonja from Killian’s side to carry her to her room, wishing the rest of them goodnight. Anna followed with a contented wave as Sven trailed behind, headed outside to his barn to bed down for the night.

Queen Elsa’s gaze remained on Killian, though the story had finished. There was a melancholy, almost wistful, look within her light eyes as she seemed to consider the story yet.  “He sounds like the best sort of big brother,” she finally said to Killian softly, and gentle and a bit sad smile curving her lips. “I wish I could have met him….” This last was said almost hesitantly, as if she herself did not quite know why it had slipped out, and yet she nodded determinedly after, as if confirming the sentiment.

“I wish you could have met him too, Milady,” Killian answered fervently, his voice a bit hoarse and husky with the regret and pain of still missing his elder sibling, even after ages had passed. “Maybe it’s just something about the way a younger sibling sees a beloved older one, but at times I can see  something of Liam in you.”

Elsa smiled once more, gratefully accepting what for Killian must be the highest compliment he could give someone. The three of them settled into a sort of peaceful remembrance of those no longer with them - bittersweet but not unpleasant, as they were reminiscing of good times and not just their loss - before she rose as well to retire for the night.

Her exit left Emma and Killian seated cozily before the fire together, one last mug of hot chocolate in each of their hands and the silent beauty of the room around them, still decked out for Christmas, and snow still falling outside, weaving a lovely spell.  Tilting her head up, Emma found Killian’s lips waiting to capture hers tenderly, sipping from them as if they were even more delicious than the chocolate and twice as precious. “I love you, my Darling,” he murmured against her cheek as his kisses trailed back to the spot behind her ear that made her melt on the spot. 

Practically keening back that she loved him too, Emma held her husband even tighter, wanting nothing else she could possibly imagine in that moment. As she gazed into Killian’s blue, blue eyes she could see the future of them, and their family, together, and she knew the coming year would be their best one yet.

Tagging: @cssecretsanta2k19​ @xhookswenchx​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @thisonesatellite​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @revanmeetra87​ @teamhook​ @hollyethecurious​@winterbaby89​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @gingerchangeling​ @spartanguard​ @lfh1226-linda​

[aquietwritingcorner]

Moms Made Fullmetal 2020 Day 7

Word Count: 1308 Author: Katie/Ally; RealityBreakGirl Rating: G Characters: Sheska, Sheska’s Mother Prompt: Change/New Beginnings/Farewell Summary: Sheska’s mother reflects on a life lesson she tried to teach her daughter—that in every farewell, there is a new beginning. She knows that Sheska will have a wonderful new beginning even as she gives her daughter her last farewell Author’s Note: I have worked in some personal headcanons about Sheska and her family in this story. The most important one to know is that I headcanon that “Sheska” is her first name and she goes by it because her last name is very long and very hard to most Amestrians. I also headcanon that her family came from an area near the Drachman boarder that was independent a couple of generations or so back, but was taken over by Amestris.

 Change/New Beginnings/Farewell

 Change was inevitable. It happened all the time in life. Some was good, some was bad, and some depended on your perspective. But change still happened, and no matter the change, you needed to live through it. You needed to push on, adapt, and survive. You needed to see the new beginnings that came with each farewell. That was something that Ruta “Ruth” Brzęczyszczykiewicz had tried to impart to her daughter, Sheska. Change had been a constant in their lives from the beginning. Some were good, positive changes, like better places to live or better jobs. Some were hard, negative changes, like loss or her own failing health. And some changes were neither good nor bad, but simply change, like graduations, or going new places. Those changes depended on how you reacted to them.

Ruth had always tried to stay positive, to teach Sheska to find the good in the changes, and to always be kind. Life was full of farewells, but with those often came new beginnings, if you looked for them. She had tried to teach her daughter how to look for the new beginnings in the farewells, although Sheska had trouble with it at times. Her Sheska was a ball of nerves, and Ruth had calmed her down and talked her through more then one panic or anxiety attack by asking Sheska to focus on the good that could come from things. Sheska tried hard to do the best that she could in remembering this, and Ruth appreciated it. She had appreciated it even more over the years as her health had failed and Sheska stepped up to be a caregiver and support to her mother.

But it couldn’t last forever.

Ruth had been trying to prepare her Sheska for this change for along time. Of all the changes that Sheska had experienced in her life, loss was always the hardest for her. This loss, Ruth’s own death, wasn’t going to be an easy one for Sheska by any means. But while Ruth was worried about how her Sheska would take this, she wasn’t as worried as she had been previously. Because she could see a new beginning forming for her daughter, even as her own final farewell drew near.

Ruth had always been the only one looking after her Sheska. Her father had died when Sheska was just a baby, and most of their other family was gone as well. It had been the two of them, alone, and Ruth had made the decision to move further into Amestris with Sheska, managing to make her way to Central City eventually. There would be better opportunities there, she was sure. It wasn’t easy to raise a child alone and find work that made them enough money to live on, but Ruth had done the best she could. Of course, it had only gotten harder when she had realized just how gifted Sheska was. But Ruth had been determined not to waste that gift and had taken little Sheska to everything she could manage to help her daughter learn and experience as much as she could. The library had been a common stop, but anytime there was something free or very cheap that she could take her daughter to, she had. She loved to see the light Sheska’s eyes shine as she experienced or learned new things.

It wasn’t all easy, especially as Sheska grew and her giftedness led to some trouble fitting in with other children her own age. But Ruth was proud of her daughter. She had persevered through all of her trials. Even when Ruth’s own health had begun to fail, Sheska had panicked a little, but she had stepped up to help care for her mother. She had worked hard to try to get her to a decent hospital when it became apparent that Ruth’s care was too much for Sheska to handle alone. A lucky encounter had allowed her Sheska to put Ruth into a better place, and also given her a job—a job she still had, and a good one too!

Ruth was so proud of her Sheska.

And now? She could see new beginnings for her Sheska. The past couple of years Sheska had blossomed while Ruth could feel herself fading. Things hadn’t been the same since the day of the eclipse, Ruth could tell. It had set something in motion that she knew was going to end her life. But she kept it to herself, watching her Sheska instead. Sheska had made friends, true friends, and that thrilled Ruth. She brought her friends by, introducing Ruth to many people. There was even one young man that kept showing up with Sheska, and Ruth could tell that the two cared deeply for one another, or would soon, anyway.

Her Sheska finally had everything. She had a stable job. She had friends. She had a young man. She had her books. There was only one thing left to set her free from.

“My Sheska…”

“Mom!” Sheska’s teary face looked back at her. “I’m here mom!”

“I know,” Ruth said. “I want you to know, that I am so very proud of you.”

“I know, mom,” There were tears in Sheska’s voice. “But I need you to stay with me, okay? I—I’m not ready to be alone.”

Ruth smiled, and reached her hand out to pat Sheska’s cheek. “But you are not alone. You have so many wonderful friends, my Sheska. You have that kind boss of yours, and his two sisters that look like him. You have the older woman and her little girl. You have the two girls you work with in your office. You have that polite young woman who always has guns on her, and the man who looks at her with undying love in his eyes. You have the man that smells like smoke, and the one who pretends he does not care when he does. And there is the one that knows almost as much as you do as well. And the pretty young lady with the dark short hair, and the young man with all the brothers and sisters. And you have your young man, who fixed my radio.”

She smiled at her daughter again. “Sheska, even if I’m not here like this, you are not alone. You have been richly blessed by all the friends that you have. You won’t be alone.” She smiled and let the smile reach her eyes, although her hand was feeling heavy and she had to lower it. Sheska caught it in her own hands and gave in a squeeze. “I know that they will take good care of you.”

“But I need you too! I don’t want to say goodbye to you Mom! You’re my world!”

“And you are mine, my Sheska,” her voice was getting lighter. “But it’s time for you to find a new world.”

She could see Sheska crying, her tears harder, and she gave her daughter’s hands a squeeze.

“Remember what I taught you. In every farewell, there is a new beginning. Change happens in life—its if we choose to dwell on the farewell or the new beginning that matters the most.”

“I’ll remember,” Her Sheska was sobbing now, and Ruth hated to bring her so much pain. But it was simply the way it was. “I’ll always remember.”

Ruth closed her eyes, and her lips curved up in a gentle smile. “Good, my Sheska,” her voice was very quiet now, but she knew her daughter heard every word. “Your new beginning will be wonderful.”

Ruth felt strangely light then. Something was happening. She wasn’t sure what, but it was. All she knew, was that she was glad she had gotten out her last farewell to her daughter.

Now it was time for a new beginning for her as well.

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.

[mrlnsfrt]

Behaving Wisely

David has slain the giant that seemed unbeatable. The Israelite has won a great victory. (for more read The Battle Belongs to the LORD)

Was David lucky?

Is it possible for him to maintain his winning streak?

"So keep the words of this covenant to do them, that you may prosper in all that you do."  -- Deuteronomy 29:9 New American Standard Bible

Let’s continue to read the story of David and see what happens next.

Now when he had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. Saul took him that day, and would not let him go home to his father’s house anymore. Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan took off the robe that was on him and gave it to David, with his armor, even to his sword and his bow and his belt. - 1 Samuel 18:1-4 NKJV

David and Jonathan have a lot in common. They were both courageous and capable young warriors who had great faith in the Lord. Both had also initiated attacks against the Philistines against terrible odds that lead to great victories for Israel. (Bergen, Robert D. The New American Commentary. Broadman & Holman, 1996. p199) (for more on Jonathan’s victory read A Mighty Minority)

The fact that Jonathan gives David the clothes and weapons originally reserved for the heir to Saul’s throne is worth noting. Especially when you combine it with the fact that David was offered the king’s clothing during the battle (1 Samuel 17:38, see also The Battle Belongs to the LORD) These details are rich in symbolic and thematic significance, we see that David is well on his way to becoming the next king of Israel. Though Saul is king and Jonathan is the crown prince, David’s experiences point to the exceptional future God has in store for him.

At this point, Saul decided to keep David with him and not allow him to go home to his father’s house anymore, and Jonathan also loves David. Things are going well for David he is being honored and elevated by the royal family. David goes wherever Saul sends him and he is successful.

Success

Whatever Saul asked David to do, David did it successfully. So Saul made him a commander over the men of war, an appointment that was welcomed by the people and Saul’s officers alike. - 1 Samuel 18:5 NLT

If you click on 1 Samuel 18:5 it will take you to a page with several different translations and you will notice that some describe David as acting wisely, and some describe him as being successful. So which one is the best translation? Yes. What if the writer meant exactly what he wrote, that David behaved wisely and was successful. Sure in English we have two different words for this idea, but in the Hebrew mind, the two ideas seem to be mingled into one. Behaving wisely is success, prosperity and wisdom are intermingled. Even more interesting is how the same root שָׂכַל (sakal) is found in Deuteronomy 29:9.

Therefore keep the words of this covenant, and do them, that you may prosper in all that you do. - Deuteronomy 29:9 NKJV

Essentially God provided us with the key to success, a strong loving relationship with Him. The covenant was in essence for us to not turn after any other Gods. The 10 commandments give us the core of God’s covenant, those are His plans for our lives, those are His guidelines for us to prosper in all that we do. He gives us success. The 10 commandments in essence protect us from leaving our relationship with God. They keep us from shooting ourselves in the foot. In the story of Saul and David we see one man, Saul, turn from God and lose everything while another man, David, remains faithful to God and gains everything.

This does not mean that obedience buys you immunity or salvation. Those are gifts from God. Life is still tough for David, as we will see, but he keeps succeeding because he always humbles himself before God. This will become clearer as we study the biblical account of the life of David in its entirety. But even here, at the beginning of David’s rise, we see evidence of God’s blessings and of David’s love for God.

What I take away from this is that the way to success will never go against the will of God for my life as expressed in the 10 commandments. If I am being pressured to go against God’s expressed will it will not lead to success, but rather to failure. Also, it is important to define success here as the ultimate success in life, not just the acquisition of money or power or both. Money and power can be a curse in the life of those who have sacrificed their relationship with God for the things this world has to offer.

Challenges that follow success

Sometimes a quiet meaningful life is more enjoyable than a life of fame and power. When the armies returned victorious from the battle the women were singing about the heroes and their victories. They sang about how “Saul had slain his thousands,” this was nice, Saul liked listening to this. We don’t have a record of the whole song, we also have no idea what the melody was like. However, we do have the record of one more line from this song and it went like this: “And David [has slain] his ten thousands.” (1 Samuel 18:7)

It’s fine to be wise, to be successful, but being more successful than the king is bad for your health.

Saul notices that David is well on his way to becoming king. He is popular with the people and the court. Surely Saul was reminded of the words of Samuel found in 1 Samuel 15:28.

So Samuel said to him, “The Lord has torn the kingdom of Israel from you today, and has given it to a neighbor of yours, who is better than you. - 1 Samuel 15:28 NKJV

I believe this is why the story continues in this way

Then Saul was very angry, and the saying displeased him; and he said, “They have ascribed to David ten thousands, and to me they have ascribed only thousands. Now what more can he have but the kingdom?” So Saul eyed David from that day forward. - 1 Samuel 18:8-9 NKJV

Saul eyed David

From this point on Saul sees David as a threat. 1 Samuel 18:9 (link to different translations) is a bit awkward to translate to English but when you read the different ways its translated you get the idea of what it means to “eye” someone or to be “eyed” by someone. Saul was watching David closely, looking for an opportunity to rid himself of this threat.

David meanwhile, continues to serve king Saul faithfully. When Saul was being tormented by a distressing spirit and David came to play for him Saul threw a spear at David, twice (1 Samuel 18:11)! This means that David came back to play the hard a second time after Saul had tried to kill him! This shows that David was faithful and willing to help Saul even if it meant putting his life on the line. This also shows that music is not a sure-fire way to deal with people struggling with evil spirits. (for more on that checkout Mental Health, Music and the Bible) It is also worth noting that Saul being armed with a spear against David associates him with Goliath (1 Samuel 17:7) not to mention that Saul was also very tall (1 Samuel 9:1-2).

Fear

Although Saul a powerful king and is armed with a spear, he is afraid of David who is an unarmed nobody.

Now Saul was afraid of David, because the Lord was with him, but had departed from Saul. Therefore Saul removed him from his presence, and made him his captain over a thousand; and he went out and came in before the people. And David behaved wisely in all his ways, and the Lord was with him. Therefore, when Saul saw that he behaved very wisely, he was afraid of him. But all Israel and Judah loved David, because he went out and came in before them. - 1 Samuel 18:12-16 NKJV (bold mine)

David continues to have success. David behaves wisely and prospers in everything he does (Deuteronomy 29:9). Saul is afraid because he realizes that the LORD was with David. Just as Goliath was unable to destroy David, Saul too realizes he is no match for him. Saul decides to change tactics.

Royal Wedding!

Saul realized he would not be able to kill David with his own hands, or at least he realized he shouldn’t since David was becoming so popular. Saul decided to let his enemies take care of David.

Then Saul said to David, “Here is my older daughter Merab; I will give her to you as a wife. Only be valiant for me, and fight the Lord’s battles.” For Saul thought, “Let my hand not be against him, but let the hand of the Philistines be against him.” - 1 Samuel 18:17 NKJV

Saul figured the more often David was involved in battles against the philistines the greater the chances of him dying in battle. That way David can die a hero at the hand of the Philistines and Saul can be rid of a “problem.” David agreed to fight the LORD’s battles. David would likely have agreed to fight even if there wasn’t the promise of marriage to the princess. This could also have been interpreted as taking the place of the dowry, like when Jacob offered to work as a way of paying the price for his wife (Genesis 29:15-19 for more read Rules of Engagement).

However, when it came time to it, Saul gave his oldest daughter to someone else. Maybe he feared giving David even more power and influence seeing he refused to die. Saul should have given David his daughter because David killed Goliath ( 1 Samuel 17:25), but Saul keeps adding details and clauses to the fine print of his promises.

Now Michal, Saul’s daughter, loved David. And they told Saul, and the thing pleased him. So Saul said, “I will give her to him, that she may be a snare to him, and that the hand of the Philistines may be against him.” Therefore Saul said to David a second time, “You shall be my son-in-law today.” - 1 Samuel 18:20-21 NKJV

David is incredibly humble. This could be due to Saul being king and having come from a wealthy family. David however was the youngest son in his family, he was a bumble shepherd and his genealogy was not pure, since one of his ancestors had been a Moabite (Ruth 4:13-17).

It is interesting to notice the word choice of Saul here. Michal was to be a “snare” to David. This same word is used in the Torah to describe the dangers of idols and idol worshipers (Exodus 23:33;34:12; Deuteronomy 7:16) Perhaps Saul was aware of his daughter’s idolatrous inclinations ( 1 Samuel 19:13) and how if she could lead David astray then he would surely fall at the hand of the Philistines.

Similarly to how David had heard by word of mouth about the rewards offered to whoever killed Goliath, David now heard that Saul was willing to make him his son-in-law. Saul asks for 100 Philistine foreskins as a way of taking vengeance on the enemies of Saul. David is so willing that he gets Saul 200 foreskins. Saul then has no option but to give David his daughter.

Now David was part of the royal family, even closer to the throne. Saul became even more afraid of David and decided to be his enemy continually. But David continues to prosper.

Then the princes of the Philistines went out to war. And so it was, whenever they went out, that David behaved more wisely than all the servants of Saul, so that his name became highly esteemed. - 1 Samuel 18:29 NKJV (bold mine)

David is faithful to God, God is with him, granting him wisdom and success. For me, the lesson is clear, be faithful to God, receive His wisdom, and prosper, regardless of who is against you.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, And the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding. - Proverbs 9:10 NKJV

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. - James 1:5 NKJV

[seriouslyhooked]

Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 22)

24 part AU written for @cssns​. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy​!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it has been such a long time since I updated this fic, which is crazy because the chapters are taking place one right after another still, but this fall has been filled with travel and very little free time for me. I didn’t get a chance to write, and though I wanted to get the story out there and share the ideas I’ve had all this time, I wanted to give myself the space to do this story justice. It’s been an ambitious AU for me, there’s a lot of moving parts and way more reveals than I ever do, making it a really big undertaking. But all of your support along the way and your continued interest has helped keep me motivated even in the time I couldn’t work on this. As such, I really hope you will all enjoy this chapter, and I thank you all for reading!

She is never leaving my sight again, Killian thought to himself as he held Emma to his side, keeping ever vigilant about their surroundings out here in the woods.

The two of them had stolen their temporary moment alone after the encounter with the bear, but both of them knew that quiet couldn’t really last forever. Nevertheless, the wish to run away with Emma and barricade her from anything that might harm her was strong in Killian. He resisted, knowing that leaving would not only put everyone else at risk, but that it would make his Emma deeply unhappy, but in the privacy of his own mind, he allowed those thoughts to wander. At the end of the day, his priority was Emma and the baby that she was carrying now, and there was just no changing that.

As if she could hear his mind’s rampant musings, Emma’s hand came to cover his arm, a silent show that she was here and that she was readily accepting his need to protect her. She looked up to him, and though he was certain he hadn’t pushed the worried internal dialogue her way through their mental link, he could see that she knew anyway. He couldn’t hide the hurt and the harried frenzy that nearly losing her had conjured up. It still lingered here with him, as it would until all of this was over and done.

We’ll get through this, she pushed to him quietly, and in response Killian quietly brought her hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss atop her smooth and creamy skin before leading it to rest above his heart. The smile she graced him with at the reassuring motion filled him with renewed hope, but yet again their quiet shows of intimacy were short lived.

“I still don’t get it,” a voice interjected, pulling Emma and Killian from their semi-private moment. “He comes to town, tries to kill us all, claims Anna, barrels into the magic force field, and now… nothing.”

Tink’s words, lobbed at the bear that had at first seemed like nothing more than a foe, prompted all of them to look in the beast’s direction. The grizzly was ferocious and imposing still, with eyes a tempered red color, but they lacked the vibrancy of before. Now, instead of glowing a sickening scarlet, they were more molten, a deep burgundy where they were once so bright. The mellowing out of the color signaled to Killian that the bear had calmed somehow, not breaking from its fever, but tamping it down. That didn’t mean he trusted this unknown shifter though, and until they were certain he posed no threat to Emma, that bear was getting nowhere near his woman again.

“Could we maybe keep our less helpful thoughts to ourselves for the time being?” Emma countered, and though the words were sharp, it was understandable why she said them. For as much as the bear was an enigma to them, he was just as much of a puzzle to Anna, if not more so. Emma’s friend was still somewhat dazed from it all, and currently Elsa and Liam were standing with her, the former trying to comfort her sister, and the latter keeping his reflexes sharp in case the lass made a break for the bear.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Tink trailed off, unsure of how to phrase this precarious situation.

“It’s just bat shit crazy is what it is,” Ruby exclaimed.

“And about to get crazier,” Emma’s Uncle Lance noted, commenting on the impending hubbub that was coming down the road right now.

The Nolan’s were all together in their car, not having had the chance to run as Liam, Killian, and Graham had. They’d also had to wait until they were given some sort of all clear. The situation was now somewhat contained, but before that there was too much risk in having Neal, Mary Margaret, or Ruth out here. Killian had never seen Emma’s father in action, but he knew the man had been trained his whole life to be a hunter. David Nolan would have all the necessary skills to have been a part of this fight, but as it turned out, the fight came down almost entirely to the instincts of Emma and her wolf.

“Emma!”

The car was still in motion, braking on the loose, dirt path, but it did nothing to stop Mary Margaret from jumping out and running to her daughter. Killian moved back ever so slightly, knowing what would come next, but he stayed as close as possible to the massive hug Emma’s mother bestowed on her. Tears of relief streamed down the older woman’s face, but she didn’t break down, even in her moment of vulnerability. She may have been human, but Emma’s mother was strong, and fiercely protective of the children she loved so dearly.

“I told you I’d be okay,” Emma whispered, attempting to share a smile with her Mum, and the words felt like a punch to his gut. He closed his eyes briefly, seeing again the image of Emma trapped beneath the snarling bear, but he shook it away, willing himself to be strong for his mate. Reliving that terrible moment did nothing but make him weaker and more worried.

Emma’s father, brother, and grandmother all surrounded her as well, hugging Emma close before turning their attention to the others. Mary Margaret immediately moved to Gwen, trying to take strength from a woman who had answered in their hour of need, and David clearly felt the support of his lifelong friend and capable shifter Lance, but soon the greetings and reunions were tossed aside, and all attention turned to the problem at hand. It was interrogation en masse, and the questions tossed out were free game for all of them and in dire need of answer.

“Is everyone all right?”

“Everyone’s in one piece,” Graham said, having taken account of the whole group’s status as soon as the bear was contained. No one had withstood anything that amplified shifter healing wouldn’t clear up by the end of the day. All in all, they’d been incredibly lucky.  

“Any injuries?”

“Just to my pride. Damn bear got the better of me at one point, and I can’t say I’m too thrilled with that,” Granny quipped, prompting the ghost of a smile to tug at Killian’s lips. In another moment he’d laugh at the old wolf and her totally serious resentment at having been bested, but things being as they were, he couldn’t quite get to the level of comfort needed for a good dose of fun. “But other than that, we’re all fine.”

“Barely,” Emma’s aunt coughed out and Killian watched as Emma’s head snapped to her. A quiet contest of wills elapsed between them. Clearly her aunt wanted to disclose how close things had really come, but Emma wanted to spare her parents the pain of what could have been. It wasn’t clear who would prove victorious, but then Mary Margaret caught the exchange and there was no avoiding the conversation.

“What happened?” Her tone held the firm but alarmed kind of shrillness only a mother could produce.

“Uh, it might be totally out of the realm of normal, but it’s also kind of straight forward,” Tink hedged, shrugging a shoulder as she proceeded to give the barest of highlights, thus helping Emma keep things under wraps. “A giant, angry, magically roided up grizzly shifter came to town, we lured it out here, we got it in the magical crystal thing, and now here we are.”

“Is that all?” David asked, having caught on to his wife’s increased agitation. “Emma?”

Emma’s muscles tightened significantly as the conversation went on, her stance looking more and more like she might just shift and run away from all of this. But instead, she looked to Killian, asking him only with her expression if he’d have her back. Of course he would, and he sealed that silent oath with a kiss to her temple. She leaned into the action for only the briefest of moments before taking a deep breath and coming clean.

The look of anguish on her parents’ faces was likely punishment enough for Emma, who had already felt some guilt about the danger she’d put herself in. Neal, for his part, looked awed at her bravery, and at one point he even interrupted with a word of praise, before a look from his mother quickly cut that thinking off. When Emma was done, it was clear that her mother especially was both wracked with worry and terribly angry. Her emotions were big and jumbled and messy, but though she probably deserved to get them out, Killian felt it was time to step in.

“Obviously there’s a lot to unpack there, but the big thing is Emma is safe now and there will never be another similar instance again.” He looked to Emma, who nodded readily. “And right now we don’t have the luxury of examining this all again. Gold has essentially declared war on us with this attack, and we can’t assume that’ll be the end of it.”

“So we’re certain now that it’s him?” Ruth asked. She was struggling to keep up given how much had been happening and that was understandable. Between Gold and Emma’s great uncle George’s appearance, there were so many unknowns hanging about right now, certainly more than could ever be easily understood.

“There’s too much magic involved for it to be anyone else,” Ruby replied. “But we were hoping you might confirm. The enchantment on the collar is still pulsing even now. It should look similar to the charms you witnessed.”

Ruth followed Ruby towards the choker, which had still yet to be touched by anyone but Emma. Without any discussion about the chance of her being jinxed somehow by the object, Ruth reached out to examine it. She nodded as soon as her skin made contact with the magic itself.

“This is definitely Gold’s work. It looks and feels the same. It’s reptilian almost, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t, but not much does anymore,” Liam remarked, and again Killian wished he was in the place to laugh. God knew they all needed it, but with so much still unknown every bit of their energy needed to be tied up in solving this life threatening puzzle.

Ruth continued to examine the artifact, her eyes taking in the material that appeared to be leather bound together by some kind of silver or platinum. It was a strange combination, but there was something in Ruth’s eyes that spoke to familiarity. Killian didn’t know if it was just her identifying the magic or what, but the hairs on the back of his neck went up just before she turned the leather over, a shocked look rushing across her face as she dropped the object back to the ground.  

“Grandma?” Emma asked, having picked up on the same nervous energy that Killian did even before it truly managed to manifest. They both moved towards Ruth, searching for answers, but she appeared speechless as she looked back at them.

“Mom?” David asked, moving towards her quickly, trying to see if she was all right before sparing a glance at the cursed collar. Instantly his face portrayed the same shock, and then he let loose a very rare curse. “Son of a bitch.”

“Language,” Mary Margaret and Emma’s Aunt Gwen both said absently, but it was obviously instinct and driven by no sort of real intention. Within seconds Emma’s mother was at David’s side and held his hand in hers once more. “David, what is it?”

“That sigil.”

Killian turned his focus to the emblem on the leather collar. It was all hard lines and angles, and though it was a random association, Killian thought of how it looked so unlike most shifter symbols. It was clearly old, dating back far before the flags and figures of most great houses, but it sliced through the collar with an authority and a bluntness that looked like many knives hard at work.

“You know it?” Emma asked, prompting her father out of the angry and confused mood he was now grappling with,

“It’s the Nolan crest,” her Dad said. “And not only that, it’s my Uncle’s work. See here,” he motioned at the ridges and how the slices were jagged but perfectly symmetrical. “Nolans for centuries used branding techniques to establish our crest, but my Uncle said it left the smell of smoke. He wanted something cleaner and so he studied the old ways. All this was done with one knife in one stroke.”

“But with magic anything can be recreated, can’t it? It could be a set-up, something to throw us off the trail,” Anna said. Yet even as the words left her lips, she was still trying to figure it all out for herself. “Still, the magic is so obviously Gold’s. No one else can recreate that, why bother with any attempted distraction?”

“It’s not a diversion. It’s a claim. Gold made his with his magic and my brother made his with this,” Ruth said, her words finally reappearing though her eyes were still somewhat glazed over by ghosts from her past. “God, I wished I’d never see this symbol again, never mind the man who made it. To think he’s working with Gold. This is a nightmare.”

“I just don’t get it. Why are they both doing this? What’s the end game?” Graham asked.

“My Uncle’s will be as it always was – to eradicate shifters.”

“Even family?” Killian asked and David nodded.

“But what about Gold?” Elsa asked. “He’s got no ties to any of us but Ruth. Surely she can’t mean that much to him. She’s been awake five years, and he could have found her in any of that time.”

“Look, I don’t know the guy, but from everything you guys have found out, does it really seem like he needs a reason?” Tink asked. “The man is clearly more than a few marbles shy of a whole set.”

“He’ll have a reason,” Ruth responded. “But Elsa’s right, it can’t be me. Most likely it’s you all.” She gestured at Ruby, Elsa, Anna, and Emma.

“All of us?” Emma asked. “I mean I get them, they’re witches, but I’m -,”

“The Nolan heir and a hybrid shifter. Not to mention you’re mated to the true alpha of one of the strongest packs in America. Elsa, Anna, and Ruby have tremendous power, to be sure, and having joined together in one place, they’d be a natural threat to a power-hungry beast like Gold. But you’re truly unique, Emma, something that can’t be recreated, and to Gold that’s worth more than anything.”

“Clearly he’s willing to die over it,” Liam said shaking his head as his eyes met Killian’s. “And he will. Soon as we can find that fu-,” A shove from Elsa reminded Liam of the smaller ears in the group now and he cleared his throat before finding another word that didn’t fit nearly as well. “foe?”

“Not terrible. Not a great save, but not awful,” Neal joked, earning a smile from the adults who were still all in awe that this young boy was managing to swim in the deep end of all of this shifter drama.

“Where’s Lance?” Emma’s father asked, drawing attention to the fact that his old friend was missing from this conversation. Killian hadn’t even noticed, a testament to the extreme stealth of mountain lion shifters.

“He picked up a scent earlier but with the bear and all there was no time. We had to get to you all as fast as we could,” Gwen explained. “He’s circling back to track it now.”

“Another shifter?”

“No. I mean I don’t know. I didn’t even smell anything, but he said there was something…”

At that moment, the low rumble of a wild cat running came through the underbrush and then Lance appeared at the tree line in his shifter form. In the blink of an eye he transformed to human again. This was pretty normal for all of them, as even Emma and her friends had more exposure to shifting this summer, but for Neal it was a shock and that manifested when the boy gasped aloud. One look spared in the boy’s direction showed he was nothing but excited. No fear, no dismay. Just the giddy look of childlike wonder that a kid might have in the face of a perfect Christmas or a trip to Disney World.

“You didn’t recognize it because it’s a scent from before we ever met,” Lance said emerging from the woods. “It’s feint, but it’s citrus rinds and tea leaves.”

“George,” David and Ruth said at the same time, both resigned but obviously perplexed.

“Lance?” Gwen asked, putting her hand to his arm in question, echoing everyone else’s confusion.

“Hunters bathe in salted citrus waters with tea leaves before an attack. It largely suppresses human scent and keeps them nearly untraceable, blending in with forest smells better than any other combination. I only know about it at all because it’s what David always smelled like growing up.”

“He’s here?” Emma’s father asked, skipping over the tea bath tidbit.

“If he isn’t then he was. Trail leads to the clinic. It’s strong there but no sign of him. SUV tire tracks in the dirt. Recently left.”

“Was the SUV big enough to hold him?” Anna asked, motioning towards the bear, her face angrier than Killian had ever seen it.

“Would have been a cramped cage,” Lance admitted, making the air around Anna practically crackle with her resentment of David’s Uncle. A breeze floated in the glen around them, and in it there was a glinting of light that spoke to something more than wind. It was Anna’s palpable energy, and though she did her best to conceal it, the storm inside her mind and heart was starting to brew in the world around them. “But there’s more. The clinic has been marked, and the animals inside are feeling very on edge. You’re gonna want to get over there before some humans do.”

“Wait but hold on, how is this even possible?” Emma asked, stalling everyone in their tracks before they sped off to the clinic. “How would your Uncle have had time to get here after messing with Neal? The bear attacked maybe thirty minutes after you left. And I’m sorry, I don’t care how skilled a hunter he is. You’re telling me he brought a giant grizzly in a huge SUV into the city Boston? Doesn’t that seem like a really dumb idea?”

“Emma’s right, the timeline is all off,” Killian affirmed, and it seemed to dawn on the others how accurate that was.

“I showed Neal a picture once we got back to the house, and he confirmed it was definitely George who approached him.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Ruby asked, turning her inquiry to Emma’s brother. “Neal, was there anything strange about the man who approached you?”

“You mean other than the fact that he cornered me and said all that cryptic stuff about my being a hunter and his family?” Ruby nodded. “Uh, I don’t know he spoke kind of fast. Like a little faster than was easy to follow. Made the already crazy stuff he said even more confusing. It also felt like he was kind of talking to himself, answering his own questions when I didn’t really feel like he’d asked anything. And he kept flicking his wrist as he talked and then balling it up. His face got mad when he did that but only for a second.”

“That doesn’t sound like George,” Ruth said critically. “He’s a methodical man. His whole life has been about control and perfection. He speaks so well, he’s a vocal coach’s dream. Same with his movements.”

“Hunters don’t fidget,” David said, sounding like he was repeating words he was oft told in his past life as opposed to making any sort of additional commentary.

“Could a human smell a hunter, even though shifters mostly can’t?” Neal asked and Emma’s father responded.

“Yes but it would be almost unnoticeable. Why do you ask?”

“Well I didn’t really think much of it but I smelled something awful in the air when he came up to me. I thought it was just one of those city pockets you know? Where the air is just dirty and you kinda have to walk through it.”

“Could be,” Ruby said, “But sulfuric smells can be a side effect of dark magic. Ruth, what was Gold like when you interacted with him all those years ago? Do you remember?”

“Well he was much more unbalanced than George, that’s for sure. Gold used to talk in riddles anytime I met with him and always so fast you barely knew what he was saying. Now that you mention it the wrist thing sounds like something too. He used to kind of flick his up like this,” Ruth said, displaying a gesture that was almost caricature of what a person with magic might do.

“So the body language and the other clues hint that Neal was actually dealing with Gold and not George, and if that’s the case he must have used a glamour spell,” Elsa acknowledged. “Unless there’s another way?”

“No, for him to look like George it would have to be a glamour, it would explain the smell, but it would also take a lot of magical energy. He should be really weak after expending himself like that. I mean between that and the magic that’s been spent on trapping this bear… he shouldn’t even be alive.”

“’Should’ doesn’t really seem like a word that fits in our world at the moment,” Granny sassed and they all agreed. There was no reason to assume Gold was anything but fully healthy right now, no doubt through some sinister means.

“I think realistically we need to split this up. George has apparently left this mess for me at the clinic. We should start there,” Emma’s father said, nodding to Lance and his mother who both silently accepted their new assigned posts.

“Usually I’d say I’m all we need over at team ‘scent tracker,’ but with everything that’s happened today and all the breaches…”

“You need help,” Graham said, filling in for Tink without hesitation. “I’d go, but we need to keep up the appearance of normalcy for the rest of the town, and after this bear warning people are going to have questions.”

“I’ll go with Tink,” Granny offered, surprising most of them before letting out a disgruntled huff and straightening her shoulders. “Oh please, I’m old, I’m not dead. Heck the kids would say I’ve got ‘mad skills’ when it comes to tracking.”

“Any kids who would have said that are probably in their mid-thirties by now,” Killian whispered, and despite everything Emma squawked out something close to a laugh. She then sent him a sharp but loving look, telling him that now was not the time but that she did find him funny.

“As much as we have to find George, we need to track Gold just as badly,” Elsa proclaimed. “I still don’t sense him as being the biggest threat, but he’s in this too and if we’re ever going to get an idea of what the end game is, we need to know everything we can.”

“So that leaves what?” Ruby asked. “Bear watch? Liam and Killian can handle that.”

“What about us?” Emma asked, motioning towards her brother and her mother.

“We need to put some of that natural organizing to good use,” Ruth said adamantly. “Mary Margaret, you more than anyone could try and map this out. Getting everything we know in one place could help make everything more clear.”

“Plus no one is better at wrangling multiple groups,” Gwen added, waving her walkie talkie in the air before nodding towards Graham. “You’ve got a direct line to all of us, and the patience and know-how to get everything you need.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Emma’s mother said, clearly pleased with her role. “So what are we waiting for? This war ain’t gonna win itself.”

And since that was true, they all moved off to their designated jobs, though Killian kept track of Emma constantly. Luckily her mother decided to set up their brainstorming outside here in the glen, so as much as Killian was on bear watch, he was also looking out for his mate. Killian would not let anything happen to Emma and their family, so right now it was his mission to use all of his years of experience as a shifter to aid in their protection. In the long span of his life where he sought to avenge his mother, and then in the years spent tracking and avoiding any signs of Liam and his pack, he had become a well-honed machine. His skills allowed him to feel ready for whatever may come, and he trusted that his love of Emma and his want to protect both her physical being and her heart would make anything possible. Whatever foe may present themselves, he would handle them, because there was no other option as far as he or his wolf were concerned.

That readiness and familiarity with trouble, however, did not apply to everyone, and there was one person amongst them who more than anyone must be flummoxed and uneasy given all the tumult. Killian looked even now at young Neal and he felt for the boy. He was putting on a brave face, but there was still concern that made its way to the surface now and then. Emma’s brother hid it well from his overbearing and constantly watchful mother, but when Mary Margaret moved away to talk with Gwen on the walkie talkie about everything going on at the clinic, Killian saw a chance to try and do some good.

“You holding up all right, lad?”

Killian posed the question like it could in any way be straight forward to this young boy. Emma’s brother had woken up this morning a gifted but largely ordinary child. He was brilliant to be sure, but he had no real notion of what any of this meant. Human science alone couldn’t prepare him for this, not when the books they taught in schools mentioned nothing of this whole different part of the world. It must be a great shock to him, yet here Neal stood, ready for action and above the fray of questions most people, no matter what age, would grapple with when a situation like this arose.

“It makes sense in a way,” Neal admitted, shrugging his shoulder. “Not the whole my great uncle is working with a warlock thing. That’s just crazy.”

“Aye it is. But the shifting, and your wolf, they’re not as surprising to you?”

“I had dreams, back when everyone thought I was going to die.” Neal shrugged at the memory of those times, because his childhood illness was just a part of his life. It was a painful chapter of the Nolan family story, but Neal looked to be all the stronger for it now. “They were pretty all over the place. I was sleeping all the time and I was in and out, but there was a woman towards the end, that I remember. She was nice, with a smile like my mom. I knew I could trust her, and the next thing I knew she turned into a wolf and I did too. It was weird, but it felt right, you know?”

Killian gulped, knowing that the woman Neal spoke of was his mother. He debated telling the boy the full truth, but given everything that he was saddled with now, it didn’t seem wise. There would be time, hopefully, when all of this had been resolved and he and Emma could have a full discussion with Neal about all they’d learned. They’d tell him of Emma’s own dreams, of the process Elsa’s magic had undertaken to save them both, and how Killian’s mother found a way even beyond the grave to watch over him and the family he would one day love. But for now, the best course of action was bolstering Neal’s faith and telling him this would all work out okay.

“It must be strange, to learn of what you are later like this. I know for Emma it was a unique process. It can be overwhelming. But it’s also…” he searched for the right words.

“Uh, totally cool?” Neal filled in, looking genuinely enthusiastic. “I mean I can turn into a wolf. That’s pretty bad ass.”

Killian and Neal’s heads both whipped towards the direction of Mary Margaret, but despite her motherly senses, she seemed to have missed her son’s bit of cursing. That was likely for the best.

“It’s an amazing gift to be sure. I know I’d never feel truly whole without my wolf. I’m glad you and Emma will have that now too.”

“Yeah. I just wish I didn’t have to wait. I mean five more years? That feels like forever.”

Killian smiled and he knew that for Neal it must seem like just that. As a kid, years felt like they’d never pass, and time would never move in the direction that you wanted it. It took the benefit of hindsight to see that everything comes exactly when it should, and as a new shifter, Neal would be in much better shape if he had a few years of understanding who he was before moving into that phase of his life.

“When things calm down, we should talk. You’ll have questions, and while your father is well versed in much of the shifter world, he might not have all the answers.”

“Did your Dad have them?” Neal asked, not out of any malice, but because he just genuinely didn’t know the history of Killian and his family.

“No, but I was lucky to have an elder brother.”

“And now I will too,” Neal said, like Killian’s new status in the family was a long time given. Killian smiled at that, nodding.

“Aye. That you will. Whatever you need, Neal, I’ll be here to help. So will Emma, and Liam, and all of us.”

“Like a real pack,” Neal said and Killian thought about it a moment before nodding. After all, what else could they be called at this point? There were so many of them, shifter, witch, and otherwise, tied together through love, through family ties and friendship. If that wasn’t a pack as it was intended to be then Killian didn’t know what it was.

Feeling secure in the fact that Neal was okay, Killian planned to switch his attention back to the others and their deliberations, but the bear suddenly let forth a harsh huff of air, propelling the front of his body up into the air, before stomping its thick paws into the earth below. Killian went on alert, preparing to get to Emma if the grizzly should break free, but then he gathered that the others were talking about the bear and the bear was somehow communicating, though perhaps not very effectively.

“It’s the weirdest thing,” Neal said, shaking his head as he watched the captive beast.

“Seeing a mammoth grizzly in a magic cage? Yeah, weird is one way of putting it.”

“It’s not that. It’s the smell around him. It’s sterile and sharp. I swear it smells like when I was in the hospital. Like an IV but not quite.”

Sniffing the air, Killian could at first only sense the overwhelming stench of a shifter sickness and Gold’s magic, but there, underneath those notes, there was something he belatedly recognized as medical. Now that Neal said it, he wondered how he, or any of the other shifters had missed it all this time.

“I’ve got news for you, lad: those supposed genius tendencies of yours are not purely human. You’re gonna be a hell of a shifter.”

Neal grinned at that, and after Killian urged him to tell the others, a whole new door of inquiry opened. Everyone came back from their separate corners of Storybrooke, seeking to put a new piece of the puzzle in place.

“Magic and medicine? But that’s crazy. Can it even be done?” Tink asked.

“I think we’re looking at the proof,” Elsa hedged, gesturing at the bear.

“Did anyone get a bite of his neck?” Emma asked and the others who had been there in the thick of the fight shook their head. “He’s got two puncture marks there, I saw a flash of them when I took the collar off, but I just assumed…”

“Let’s all just make a plan to stop doing that for the time being,” Graham said and they heartily agreed, for surely assuming anything was getting them nowhere. They had to start from scratch and do as Neal had done, study the problem just with the facts and clues before them.

“Are the marks identical, Emma?” Neal asked and after a moment of reflection Emma nodded.

“Yeah, they looked pretty similar. I only caught a quick glimpse though.”

“Can you get him closer to us?” Neal asked and Mary Margaret shook her head.

“Neal, no -,”

“He doesn’t need to leave the enclosure, Mom. I just need to see his neck. Emma said there’s two punctures. That’s rare in medical treatment of any kind, human or animal. There’s usually only one puncture site. Whenever I needed more than one medicine they stuck me in different places or they’re infused through one site, resulting in only one puncture. Two identical pierces is almost unheard of. In fact, the only researchers I know that have regularly and successfully used two study genetically based nervous system manipulation.”

“Uh, can you repeat that in English?” Liam replied and Killian related to his brother’s sentiment. This was elevated stuff well beyond the experience set of any of the adults here, save for maybe Emma and David who had a veterinary background, and Neal was a teenager. How did he know about this?

“Basically treatment to regrow and stabilize a broken nervous system. Yes, it’s super complicated and obscure, and before you ask, I just spent the summer rooming with a medical prodigy who is headed to Columbia pre-med at 14. You pick up stuff when all your friend talks about is cutting edge science stuff.”

“That’s brilliant, Neal, but what makes you think that this has anything to do with that?”

“Well the dual needle there wasn’t just used for fun, it was necessary to yield any positive results. The doctors were trying to infuse damaged nervous systems with a lining that would revamp nerves and allow for an artificial system reboot. They needed two different solutions to do that, and they needed to mix at the same rate through the body while not being combined outside of the system itself. They said that allowing the chemical interaction to happen inside the body actually improved the lasting effects of the treatment.”

“So that begs the question, how do we get closer to him?”

Granny’s query prompted all of them to look to Anna automatically, but that only prompted Elsa to get defensive.

“No! No way! Absolutely not! You are not going in there.”

“Elsa we need to know,” Anna replied, her tone even, not matching the loudness or the fear of her sister. “And it’s like I keep telling you. He won’t hurt me.”

“Maybe we can just ask him to come closer?” Emma added, clearly not wanting her friend anywhere near that bear without the barrier still between them.

“But what if one of the solutions Neal is talking about isn’t just science?” Ruby replied, her brow furrowed together. “If it’s magical then we need a witch to gauge that and that would be damn near impossible with Elsa and Anna’s enchantment as strong as it is.”

“We’re not doing this,” Elsa said, her anguish clear, but the fight in her starting to fail somewhat.

“What other choice do we have, Elsa? We’re in danger and more than that we’re blind. We need answers. We need them to stay safe, and we need them to heal him. He has to be okay, Elsa. He just has to be.”

The connection Anna felt to this bear was strong already though she’d never even seen his human form. Killian understood that, and though it must feel impossible to accept that Anna might be in any kind of danger, Elsa did too. All she needed to do was think about when it was Liam. When the two of them first met, Liam was still unstable and unwell, perhaps to a different degree, but Elsa stood by him. She was devoted right from the start, and she did everything she could to heal his brother and to stop his pain. Anna wanted to do the same thing, and now Elsa had to support her, fear and all.

You will not hurt her, do you hear me?

The mental push came from Emma and was aimed at the bear, but Killian still heard it. Her eyes were wary, set on the grizzly as her face gave nothing but seriousness away. The bear snorted but gave a sharp nod, unwilling or unable to reply with coherent thoughts, but showing with animal action that he was not in an aggressive place.

“Okay, Anna. You can go in there, but only for a minute. You find out what we need to know and then you get back out here. Are we clear?” Emma asked and Anna nodded. Without any more deliberation she moved to the edge of the crystal enclosure and then she stepped in.

Not knowing how things would go made the moment of Anna’s examination emotionally fraught, but beyond that this was a moment that both Emma’s friend and this unknown shifter must be craving on a cellular level. They were fated mates, destined to be together and yet unable to have more than a brief interaction. They couldn’t even speak to each other, and the fact that this was all happening while he was a bear must make things even more confusing. Yet none of that translated. Instead, Anna approached with cautious determination, stopping just before the bear and pausing only for a moment before she raised her hand to the bear’s face. Her hand made contact and everyone held their breath until the bear made a low, but welcoming growl.

“Hi,” Anna murmured after a moment, her voice raspier than usual. “This isn’t how I thought something like this would happen. I had all these ideas about who you’d be and how we’d meet and this is just… well, different.”

The bear closed its eyes for a moment exhaling what could only be called a grizzly form of a sigh, and then nuzzled more so into Anna’s touch. A sign of agreement and docility that was so alien a concept with a shifter this sick.

“Anna.” Elsa’s calling out to her sister reminded Anna of her mission and she straightened her stance and nodded.

“Right. I have to fix this. I have to help you. And I don’t know if you heard what we were saying but -,”

The bear didn’t even need to hear the rest of her request, instead shifting so Anna could be up close and personal with his neck and the site of the punctures Emma had seen. Anna let out a sound of sadness at seeing where the bear had been injured.

“What do you see?” Neal asked.

“Two puncture marks, just like Emma said. And they’re really big and thick. I can see why you thought someone bit him. He’s started to heal over it but there’s scarring and…” she raised her hand over the wound but trailed off from speaking to them.

“And what?” Ruby asked.

“You were right Ruby, I can feel the magic. Some sort of potion of something. But there’s something else here. Some residue of something else.”

“We need to see that!” Neal said, his desire to figure out this puzzling situation clear as day. “We can test his fur or maybe get some blood work, but it would be better if we had the actual solution itself.”

With just the barest flutter of her fingers Anna used her magic to extract the droplets of whatever liquid coated the bear’s fur. It was entrancing to see, and the little bits of whatever injection was used hung suspended in the air. It was a small amount, but small was better than nothing at all. “I need something to put this in.”

A vile was produced from Mary Margaret’s bag, and no one bothered to ask why she had it. No doubt some sort of ‘always be prepared mentality’ and Emma brought it to the edge of the barrier with Killian right behind her. But while they expected Anna to come right away, she was stalled, wanting, no doubt, to stay close to her mate.

“I know how hard this must be, Anna, but the sooner we figure out what this is the sooner you can heal him.”

“I’m going to fix this,” Anna said, for the bear’s benefit and not for any of theirs. “We’re gonna find out what this is and I swear I will fix it.”

At the mention of her leaving, the bear’s eyes went dark, looking more onyx than any shade of red. It reminded Killian of his father and of Liam and it all clicked. This was some sort of manufactured alpha sickness. It had to be. But just as soon as that darkness came, the bear shook its head and pushed it back again, its irises back to a deep burgundy color. The bear hoisted its body up and then stomped its two front feet to the ground but made no more sounds. It was a dismissal of Anna, and a nonverbal warning that she had to go now before he lost control. Anna seemed to understand and she moved quickly towards the barrier and back outside with all of them. With shaky hands she used her magic to put the droplets in the vial and then sealed it before handing it to Neal.

“You want me to look at it?” Neal asked, his eyes growing wide.

“Yes, Neal, I do. You were right about the injections, and if we didn’t have that we’d pretty much have nothing to go on,” Anna said. “You are brilliant, and you are my brother, in every way that matters. Right?”

“Right,” Neal agreed without hesitation.

“I know it’s asking a lot, and I know you might not be able to handle everything alone, but I just need you to try. Anything you learn is helpful. Anything. I can do the magical stuff, but I don’t know anything about medicine.”

“I’m gonna need help,” Neal said looking to Emma and Emma nodded.

“And you’ve got it. You’ve got me and Dad. I don’t know much about double injections or genome treatments, but I’ll do whatever I can. We’ve got equipment at the clinic. We can run some tests and see what compounds we’re working with and -,”

Killian was about to speak up and say that Emma needed to think about this before making any bold decisions. She’d been through the ringer today, and this testing would no doubt be an involved process. It worried Killian that Emma would continue exerting so much energy when she’d had such a close call earlier, but surprisingly it was Neal who vocalized that worry first.

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do, Emma. But I think Dad and I have got this for now. You should rest up. You’ve had a way longer day than the rest of us.”

“But I can help too,” Emma reasoned.

“And you will. But maybe tomorrow, all right? This is gonna take a while. We won’t find any answers right away anyway. You know that.”

Killian waited eagerly, hoping that Emma would reach that conclusion on her own as well, and he felt himself relax when she agreed. It was such a relief to know that Emma wouldn’t be over extending herself into the wee hours of the morning. The day was already fading away, with the sun dipping low in the trees, and Killian knew that what his mate needed was food, rest, and time away from the insanity of their world right now.

The others all agreed with Neal’s take, and with a new plan in motion people started to split up, headed for their evenings in different ways. The Nolans headed to the clinic to grab start testing things both at the lab and then back home, while Ruby, Anna, and Elsa agreed that they should try and process the magical concoction that Anna had sensed in the bear and in the collar. Ruby would do so with her family’s archives back at Graham’s, but where Elsa tried to offer a similar scenario for her and Anna, Anna was uninterested.

“I’m not leaving him,” Anna said sternly, looking back to the bear with a fierceness of conviction that had no chance of being swayed. Knowing this instinctively, Elsa let out a small sigh but nodded.

“Okay, so we stay.”

“You two mind?” Liam asked, and Killian smirked at his brother’s question. Even if he did mind it wouldn’t matter much. Liam would just camp out here with his mate and her sister. But there was no need, not when he had somewhere else he and Emma could go.

“Knock yourselves out,” he quipped, gesturing to the doorway. “We’ll just pack a bag and be out of your hair.”

“We’re not staying?” Emma asked, looking surprised, but also a bit relieved if the flash in her eyes was anything to go off of.

“I have a better idea, love. That is, if you trust me.”

“Always,” Emma said, and though he stole a fleeting kiss from her lips, it was but a mere morsel to tide him over until real privacy could be procured.

True to their word, they took only a few minutes to pack what they needed, and then they were off. They could have walked to their destination, or shifted and run over, but with George still on the loose and Gold MIA Killian wanted the opportunity at a faster getaway if need be. The drive was rather short, even with a stop at the town diner to grab some dinner, and the most notable change was that they went from the deep woods where their cabin was further towards the coast just at the edge of town. Eventually the paved Storybrooke road turned to one of pebbles and dirt, and Emma looked both amused and confused at why they would be going this way. Her eyes soon shifted though to mere enjoyment, as she took in the picturesque surroundings of this coastal lane, surrounded by greenery and bushes that held large summer flowers in shades of pinks and blues and whites.

“They’ll be paving this soon,” Killian announced and Emma’s brow furrowed as she looked from their surroundings back towards him once more.

“How do you know that? No one even lives here.”

“Ah, perhaps not yet, but the house has been recently purchased and a move in is likely inevitable.”  

“Well the new owners have done a ton of work. This was all overgrown before. Has been since I was a kid. I always loved this house though.” Emma made the comments just before they pulled around the bend, and when she saw the house in question her jaw dropped and her shock was palpable in the car. “Oh my God! Look at that. It’s… well it’s…”

“Do you like it?” Killian asked and Emma nodded immediately though her brow furrowed with confusion.

“I do, it’s gorgeous, but I don’t understand. When you said there was somewhere else we could go I assumed you meant my place above the clinic.”

“We could have gone there, but tell me you wouldn’t have then been tempted to burn the candle all night searching for answers.” Emma couldn’t say that truthfully so she opted not to respond, giving Killian the space to pull her closer as he confessed his intentions. “When we were in the woods before I told you that someday would be here sooner than you think. This house was  meant to be your wedding present, but I think, all things considered, we should cherish every moment that we have.”

“I thought you were talking about the baby” Emma whispered, her eyes misting over with happy tears as he stole a kiss from her lips with soft but sure affection. His hand came over her stomach automatically at the mention of their pup and when his lips pulled away from hers, he couldn’t help his genuine smile.

“I was, my love. Our family is on the path to exactly what we’re wanting. But as much as I cherish our cabin in the woods, this,” he waved his arms at the house before them. “This is the home you and our little ones deserve.”

With Emma still stunned into near silence, Killian produced the keys to the house from his pocket, having grabbed them from the cabin discretely enough to escape Emma’s notice. On the keychain there was also a token charm that had caught his fancy while in town. It had a swirling design that looked like the fur of a wolf when examined up close, or the sea in the midst of great uncertainty. In the foreground of the metalwork, there was an anchor, and for whatever reason, he found he liked that symbolism and that it made him think of his mate and the life that they were building together. In every way, Emma was his anchor, an anchor to goodness and love and hope, all things he now could no longer live without and that he wished to carry with him always.

“Killian.”

His name was all that Emma could seem to say in this moment, and her fingertips came to cover her mouth as she shook her head in awe. For a split second he wasn’t totally sure if he had made the right call. Buying one of her favorite houses in town might seem like a great idea, but perhaps Emma wanted to be more involved herself in the process of finding their forever home. There was so much that had to be selected and chosen to bring the house into this century and up to a livable code, while still maintaining the quintessential charm of the coastal Maine mansion. But when Emma’s green eyes welled with happy tears and her cheeks flushed that familiar shade of pink, he knew he’d made no wrong moves. Emma was happy with this, and that was all that he had ever wanted.

“Now I should warn you, love, not everything is finished. I gave them a timeline of the end of the summer, knowing that I wanted it done by our wedding night. But it’s structurally sound, and the upstairs is all furnished. Well at least it’s supposed to be and I -,”

Emma laughed at his sudden feeling of remorse, and then she pulled him in for a kiss so fast that he lost all sense of himself before his worry could actually begin to take hold. All there was in this moment was Emma and her happiness. Out here, away from everyone else, Killian allowed his overprotective need to kick in, and with a quick maneuver, he had Emma backed against the front door, knowing he had boxed her in, but never going so far as to hurt her. If anything, it just turned his mate on, and she arched even closer, taking as much from this kiss as he did, until they finally broke apart.

“You bought us a house,” Emma whispered.

“Aye, love,” he said, cupping her cheek after brushing some of her hair back from her beautiful face. “I bought us a house.”

“How do you always manage this?” She asked, and Killian didn’t know what exactly she meant by ‘this’ but he awaited her assessment whatever it may be. “Every time things go sideways, there you are, making things better. This is perfect, in every way. There’s only one thing I wish was different.”

“What is it love?”

“I wish I was already your wife. I wish we didn’t have to wait anymore.”

Hearing that amplified Killian’s own want for the same exact thing, but despite the fact that they had tonight ‘off’ so to speak, a wedding, a real wedding, worthy of his mate and all her hopes and dreams, just couldn’t be done. As such, he had to improvise.

“Do you, Emma Nolan, choose me, Killian Jones for this day and all your days? In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in this life and any more we may be blessed enough to see?”

“I do,” Emma said, with tears glistening in her eyes as she smiled, looking at him with all the love in the world. “And do you, Killian Jones, choose me back? Will you promise to love me, to cherish me, and to honor me in every way I plan to do for you, for this day and for always, no matter what may come?”

“I do,” he replied and Emma let out a soft laugh, a tantalizing sound that caught on the wind before fading away as their lips came together to seal their vows to each other.

They were now, in their hearts, man and wife, mate and mate, and though it might not be ‘official,’ Killian knew in that moment that he and Emma had bound themselves together in a new and enduring way. And so, even though things might not be going exactly according to plan, Killian delighted in the moment when he swung his love up in his arms and whisked into the house of their future and showing her the place that would be the site of their hopefully impending happily ever after.

Post-Note: So there we have it! I know this chapter has taken so long to come about, but with so many elements that I had wanted to incorporate, I knew I needed time to not only write, but to read through what I’ve already written. This whole George and Gold fiasco will soon be coming to a head, BUT please be informed it might not all be in this particular story... For those of you who have been begging me for a story that includes CS but is mostly told from the POVs of others, you will be *eventually * getting your wish. Elaborating more would be spoiling what is yet to come, so I’ll leave it there, but suffice it to say I am really excited for this next cool idea when it does come to pass. aAs always I appreciate you guys reading this, and I hope you all enjoyed and have a wonderful rest of your week!!