#I sure hope everything is going to be all right Marta!

[waverlyyhaught]

"Everything is going to be all right"

Favorite Marta and Fina Moments - Part 116 Sueños de Libertad, Ep. 226

[pitchsidestories]

big girls do(n't) cry II Mariona Caldentey x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1241

a/n: based off this sweet request here. Let us know what you thought about it !

warning: strong period pain

There it was. The familiar pain in your lower abdomen was back.

You sucked in a breath.

This morning it had only been the slight twinge of an upcoming period. You had hoped that it would go away again, that you had time until after your away game with Barcelona. But your body had betrayed you, you started your period an hour later.

Now that you were sitting on the bus with your teammates and a league game in front of you, your uterus decided that it was the perfect time to torture you.

You lifted your knees, your feet pressed against the seat in front of you, in hopes that it would ease the pain.

Your whole body tensed with the onset of the cramps.

Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by your girlfriend in the seat next to you: “Amor?“

“Yeah?“, you pressed out between gritted teeth.

“Are you okay?“ Mariona studied you with worry in her eyes.

You nodded once and lied: “Yes, I’m fine.“

“You look very pale..“

You sighed. There was no use in lying to her, especially not when you were so clearly in pain.

“I got my period this morning…“, you admitted. That was all you had to say. Your girlfriend knew how much you struggled with it every single month.

Mariona looked at you with compassion: “Oh.“

“Yes. The timing is just great…“, you complained.

“I hate when that happens before a game. Do you need anything?“

You shook your head through another wave of cramps that left you feeling slightly nauseous: “No… I’m good.“

Mariona frowned at you: “Are you sure?“

“I have to be.“

“No, you don’t.“, your girlfriend disagreed sternly.

“What?“

She very carefully placed her hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on it with her thumb. “You don’t have to be good or even okay. You don’t have to suffer through this.“

You bit your lip as a tear rolled down your cheek. Was it the pain or what Mariona said? It didn’t matter, you wiped it away with the back of your hand.

“It’s okay, come here.“, Mariona said in her soft voice and gently pulled you towards her, making sure to not put you into any more pain.

You put your head in her lap and curled up on your seat. She affectionately ran her fingers through your hair in calming strokes.

“Thank you.“, you mumbled, closing your eyes for a short moment.

“You’re welcome, amor.“, she whispered back.

“Mariona, y/n, we need to get out of the bus.”, Alexia was padding your girlfriend’s shoulder, after leaving her seat which was right behind you.

“We’re coming.”, Mariona told her.

With an encouraging smile, she turned around to look into your eyes. “Come on, amor.”

In the changing room, it was Marta who noticed how much you were struggling because of your period pain. She quickly searched for your meds in your bag, before walking to you, handing you the pills.

“Y/n, here.”, she said firmly knowing full well you were stubborn when it came to this sensitive topic.

“I don’t think I’ll need them.”, you softly pushed her outstretched hand away.

“Just take it, it’ll help. At least a bit.”, Marta stated.

“Thank you, Marta.”, you sighed, the defender usually knew what was best for her teammates.

“You’re welcome.”, she replied, genuinely relieved that you took your medicine. The older woman hated to see you, or anyone suffer unnecessarily.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the pills to take the edge off the pain while sitting on the hard bench.

“Do you feel ready to play?”, Mariona asked you, her voice with a hint of concern.

For a moment you paused, considering her question until replying. “I think I do.”

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?”, your girlfriend wanted to know, she longed to help you to ease the pain you were in.

“Be here.”, you answered quietly.

“I’ll.”, the midfielder assured you, pressing a feathery kiss to your forehead.

Despite everything Mariona went through in her life, the injuries, the early death of her father, she was the kindest human you knew, and you were so grateful to call her your girlfriend. “I love you, Mario.”

“I love you too, amor and I’m proud of you.”, the fellow football player praised you.

“I cried. You don’t mind that? Are you still feeling proud of me?”, you muttered.

“Of course I don’t.”, Mariona shook her head slowly.

 The medication finally kicked in and filled you with new motivation. “Come on we got a game to win.”, you declared cheerfully.

Your girlfriend realized relived that some colour has returned to your pale cheeks.

“Let’s go.”, she happily clapped into her hands while you two left with your teammates to start the warmup.  

The game was won, and you couldn’t wait any longer for your hotel room bed, the match has been more exhausting than usually for you. Normally you didn’t feel this extreme of tiredness and hurt.

You didn’t even remember how you made it back to the hotel but you were glad that you didn’t have another drive home ahead of you.

The hotel bed was incredibly soft as you sank into it, curling into a ball once again.

Mariona sat down next to you on the mattress: “How do you feel, y/n?“

“Tired… and hurt.“, you groaned. The painkillers were slowly losing their effect.

“I’m sorry.“, she said, gently but helplessly rubbing your back.

You noticed from the corner of your eyes that she set something down on your bedside table. It was a white mug and the smell of its content was very distinct.

“Is that hot chocolate?“, you asked, sitting up slowly.

“I hoped that it would help.“, she nodded.

You cautiously picked up the mug and took a sip: “It does. Did you get yourself one too? It’s delicious.“

“It’s good?“, she replied.

You offered her your mug. “Yes, want to try?“

Mariona sipped from the delicious, rich-tasting drink, leaving traces of chocolate around her mouth.

You smiled, she looked absolute adorable. “You got something there.“

“I do?“, she laughed.

You leaned forward and kissed the chocolate on her upper lip away. “It’s gone.“

Mariona pouted in feigned disappointment: “It was supposed to be there.“

“Sorry, amor.“, you grinned.

“Glad to see that the hot chocolate seemed to help a bit.“, Mariona smiled satisfied.

“You know what helps as well? Lots of cuddles.“, you said innocently and placed the hot chocolate back on the bedside table.

Your girlfriend pulled you close to her: “I can help with that.“

You cozied up in her arms with a sigh: “Thanks, yours are the best.“

“Don’t worry, you can have as many as you want.“

“Promise?“

“Promise. Until you feel better.“, Mariona nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The heat radiating from her body was calming and comforting, you fell asleep next to her in seconds.

Not even the quiet knock on the door could wake you up.

Alexia peeked her head inside: “Hey, everything okay? Y/n fell asleep?“

“She did.“, Mariona confirmed in a whisper.

Alexia smiled at the two of you cuddled up together: “Good night, you two.“

“Good night, Ale. Thanks for checking in.“

Your eyelids fluttered opened but Alexia was already gone.

You blinked at your girlfriend with tired eyes: “Sleep well, Mario.“

She gently placed a kiss on the crown of your head: “You too, amor.“

[chrisevansonly]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓��� 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐜𝐡𝐚��𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the day had finally come to bring little matteo to the track. charles had been waiting for this day since he was born, but made sure to wait until you were ready. now matteo is 6 months old and his father couldn’t be more excited to show him everything he could about f1

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of anxiety, harsh media but other than that, lots of fluff!

𝐚/𝐧: here she is! chapter two and man have the past few days been taxing on me, i’m just trying to focus on writing and ignoring everything else so, i hope your enjoying this series and are looking forward to this chapter! it’s a bit on the shorter end but i hope that’s okay, i haven’t been feeling well lately<3

𝐰𝐜: 900 ish…?

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

It was finally the long-awaited day, well for Charles at least, where little Matteo was finally going to be heading to the track to watch the grand prix. Well technically you had agreed to qualifying day and if all went well then you would come back for the race on Sunday. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to bring your baby boy to watch his father do what he loves, you were still just an anxious new mom, and your husband knew that.

“Okay, extra bottles…his pacifier, pluto the dog”

“Baby, I think you have everything..”

Shaking your head you paused

“Charles, I need to make sure I have everything because if I don’t and he freaks out I-I just”

“Whoa..okay..”

Charles placed his hands on your shoulders, your eyes coming up to meet his which of course were full of nothing but love for you

“Are you sure you want to come?” he asked, no hint of disappointment at all

“Yes, I do..Char I promise I do..I’m sorry I just am all over the place I suppose”

Charles nodded, understanding exactly where you were coming from, thankfully the two of you were able to have a quiet moment together as Matteo napped before you had to leave

“It’s okay, I know you’re anxious, but we’ll take it one step at a time okay? When I can’t be with you I know Joris or Marta will be right?”

You nodded

“You also know if you need anything at all you can have someone from the team get me right away right..?”

He waited until you nodded once again before pressing a kiss to your forehead

“Right…no you’re right..okay I think I have everything ready to go then”

“Good, then let’s go get the little man and head out!”

-

Monaco was a beautiful city, but on race week and weekend it seemed to get that much more magical. The paddock was no different, familiar faces and friends could be spotted easily, Charles’s family around as well which was perfect for Matteo

“Bonjour petit ours!”

At the sound of Arthur Leclerc’s voice, Matteo squealed as he began to wave his little arms around, the younger Leclerc brother quickly coming over and taking him from you, before leaning forward to pull you in for a hug, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks

“Bonjour chouchou”

“Hi Thur, nice to see a familiar face”

He smiled

“Yes I would think so, this year is a bit crazy, I was just about to walk over to the Ferrari garage if you want company?”

“I’d love that! Where is Carla?”

Matteo placed a hand on Arthur’s cheek as he babbled away, his little eyes looking at everything around him

“Oh she is on her way, i’m sure she’ll be glued to you both”

Ever since you’d started your relationship with Charles and had the chance to meet Carla when she came into Arthur’s life, you’d been super close to one another, it was like having a little sister all in one.

“Well he seems to be quite content to be here”

You smiled as you looked at your little one, his eyes still enamoured by the sights and noises

“I’m surprised, I was so anxious he’d be scared of everything”

“He is a Leclerc, he was born for this.”

Arthur sent you a wink as you both arrived at the garages, truth be told the comment he made had sent a bit of worry throughout you. Charles grew up karting, and it was something he had begun to talk to you about with Matteo, and you were absolutely terrified. Terrified at the thought of him getting in that little kart, terrified to watch him go fast and potentially get hurt. It was a thought for another day.

Matteo had settled back into your arms as his uncle kissed his head and then walked away towards some of his F2 friends he’d spotted, giving you time to bring your baby boy over to the garage. It wasn’t long before he let out his tell tale excited squeal, and it meant he had either spotted his father, or Max Verstappen. Matteo’s relationship with Max was something so adorable, he’d gotten close to the dutch driver from a young age, and he and Kelly had always been two of the first people you’d call to babysit, besides your mother in law of course.

“Hey there little speed demon!”

You rolled your eyes at Max as he was quick to come over and take Matteo from you

“Oh sorry Y/N didn’t even see you there” he teased

“Sure, no I totally understand, I’m virtually invisible when I’ve got this cutie with me”

Max went to rebuttal when an arm slipped around your waist and a pair of lips pressed to your temple

“Tu n’es jamais invisible pour moi, chérie”

“Aww merci bébé!”

Leaning into Charles you laughed as Max was quick to cover Matteo’s eyes

“Come on, we need to escape, too much grossness here for you baby leclerc!”

“Bring him back before quali please!”

Charles yelled as Max began to walk away, the red bull driver yelling a ‘you got it!’ back before it was just you and your husband.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked letting you lean further into his side, knowing you needed a bit more comfort, especially when Matteo wasn’t around

“A bit better, Teo’s been loving every second..I should have known everything would be okay”

“No, it’s okay to be anxious you know that, it’s his first time here…I know you’re anxious right now knowing he’s not with you”

You hated how easily he could read you, and man did he know you inside and out like a book

“He’s safe with Max, i’m sure he’s gone to see Kelly as well, if you want I can call him?” he offered which had you shaking your head

“Oh no, let him enjoy his time, though i’m sure Maman will be over soon begging to take him, I think she’s jealous of Max”

This had Charles laughing as he nodded in agreement

“Yes she was telling me the other day that he spends far too much time with Max”

“We’re so lucky aren’t we?”

“We are.”

It always occurred to you that unlike some families you would never ever run out of love, in fact you had an abundance of it. From your friends and family, to Charles’s friends and family. Matteo would always grow up with so many people around him that adored him just as much as you and Charles did.

Even if there was a deeper conversation waiting and gnawing at you to be had, it could wait for another day. Right now you only wanted to focus on your family and Matteo as he got his first taste at Formula One track life. Nothing could wipe the smile off your face seeing how happy your boys were. Charles had settled into being a father so gracefully, managing his time at work and at home in a way that had you so grateful.

“It’s almost quali..we should go find Teo”

“Good idea, Max has stolen my son enough!”

Shaking your head, Charles took your hand and began to walk towards the one spot you knew where he would be. Soon enough, you saw your little boy laughing and clapping as he was entertained by not only Max but Christian as well.

At least you knew if Ferrari didn’t pick him when he got older Red Bull would.

english translations:

Bonjour petit ours - hello little bear

Bonjour chouchou - hello sweetheart

Tu n’es jamais invisible pour moi, chérie - you are never invisible to me baby

Aww merci bébé - thank you baby

ʚlittle karter series tag list

@goldenmclaren @a1leexxa @piastricodedfr @treehouse-mouse @therealcap @goldenalbon @wintfleur

[my-little-random-world]

Marta: How can he be so full of hatred and resentment? Fina: Jesús again? Marta: Who else? Fina: What has he done this time? Marta: He provoked an absurd confrontation with my cousins over the sale of some land. He doesn't respect anything or anyone. Fina: Aren't you afraid that you might be next? Marta: Me? Fina: Well, you, us… What if he decides to publish the photos they took of us? Marta: I don't think he'd go that far. He already has me where he wants me. What else can I do? I take the photos away from him, I tear them up, and the next day he'd show up with ten more copies. Fina: I don't know, Marta. What I do know is that we can't go on like this. I've been thinking, and I believe you and I should take a step forward. Marta: A step forward? I don’t understand. Fina: I have a plan. It might be risky, but it's riskier to just sit here and do nothing. Marta: Tell me? Fina: Come with me to Barcelona.

Fina: Marta, I’ve thought about it over and over, and I believe it’s the best thing for both of us. Marta: And what about your father? Until today, I thought leaving him was non-negotiable. Fina: I know, but he's the one who finally convinced me. He's willing to sacrifice and come with me, but I can't allow that. But if you come with me, Marta, everything would be so different. Marta: I don’t know what to say. Fina: Then say yes. Say yes. We're not safe here. And especially not you—if you keep standing out in the company, your brother might use those photos to ruin you and push you aside. Marta: He wouldn’t dare. Fina: Of course, he would. You just said it yourself—that your brother doesn’t care about anything or anyone. He has you completely at his mercy. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life watching what your brother does or doesn’t do? My love, you don’t deserve that. Marta: You're right. What should I do then? Leave everything behind—the company, the family? My father won't allow it. Fina: Your father is just as terrified as mine. But I have it all planned out. Why don’t you propose expanding and managing the store in Barcelona? I’d work somewhere else to avoid raising suspicion. Marta: I… Fina: And Marta, we’d live together in the same apartment. Can you imagine? We’d be friends on the outside, but in private… Marta: Living together… It’s what we’ve always dreamed of. Fina: Exactly. We can't hope for anything better in a country like this. The law is the law, no matter how much it pains us. Marta: We could start over and be far from those who wish us harm. Fina: That’s right. Your brother would no longer be a threat, and you and I could be together as much as we wanted, without any obligations. Marta: Maybe you can leave everything behind in one go, but I’m not sure if I can. Let me think about it—I mean, there are things you have to consider with your head, not just your heart. Marta: How’s the order for the wedding going? Carmen: It’s ready for pickup, Doña Marta. Isn’t it a nice gesture? The bride wants to give gift boxes to all her guests. Marta: That’s the luxury of having the means. Fina, will you come with me to the storeroom? Fina: Of course.

Marta: Right now, I can’t go to Barcelona with you. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you, it’s just that… Fina: It’s just that you’re afraid to start over with me? Marta: No, it’s because of Jaime. He’s very sick. Fina: What do you mean, he’s sick? Marta: Very seriously ill. Fina: And you’re telling me this now? Marta: I wish I could have told you sooner. No one in the family knows, and I promised to keep it a secret. I also promised to stay by his side until the end. Fina: I see. Marta: Didn’t you hear me? Jaime is very sick. Fina: You know what, Marta? My father is very sick too. Marta: What are you trying to say? Fina: I’m saying that I’m really sorry if Jaime is truly sick, I really am. But I see him treating patients day in and day out, so no one would think that. Marta: Do you want him to wear a sign on his forehead that says, "Oh, I’m dying"? Fina: Does my father wear that sign? He has it on his forehead, and the letters are very big. If I have to go to Barcelona, I’ll have to give up spending the little time he has left with him. So, I don’t know… I don’t get the feeling that Jaime is on his deathbed, to be honest. Marta: Do you think I’m making this up? Fina: Marta, I know exactly how much it cost you to build your reputation in the company and earn the respect of your family because that’s what you’ve been doing all these years. And I can understand how difficult it is for you to leave it all behind, but I need you to be very honest with me right now. Marta: Right now, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Fina: I’m telling you that I understand, that I understand how hard it is for you to leave everything behind, but I need you to be very honest and clear because you know what, Marta? I’m willing to leave everything behind for you—everything. I’m absolutely willing, but what about you? What about you? Are you willing to leave it all behind and come with me to try to be happy with the person who truly loves you? Marta: Go back to the store right now because I don’t even know how to respond to you. Fina: Very well then. Marta: It’s clear that you don’t want to listen to or understand me. Fina: You don’t understand me either. Marta: Especially now, when I need you more than ever. Fina: Well, in that case, I think I have the solution. Marta: What solution?

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 6

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

I like that Luis forces Marta to do the very thing Fina tried to get her to do in the job interview, let the perfume rest on her skin before giving it a whiff. Is this meant to be the thing that tipped the scales in Fina’s favour? Or do we think Fina was always going to be Marta’s first choice as new shopgirl? I wonder when Marta started noticing Fina, I mean sure I think once she got into that uniform she was forced to see her in a new light. But I’m still curious to what it was like before that. It’s clear they knew a lot about each other, but to what extent really?

As I’m watching beyond just the Mafin scenes I’m surprised to see how similar Luis and Marta are and the way their stories are structured. They’ve both got that kind of infectious drive only in different fields.  That strong sense of right and wrong too, with an insane work ethic and a desire to make the world a better place I think. It’s also super easy to imagine their siblings running around as kids, climbing a hill, kicking a ball and Luis and Marta being left behind with an antfarm, an abbacus and a lot of curious questions.

Petra put down the fucking shovel, the hole is big enough for the Titanic without you going and insulting Marta too on top of everything. This isn’t Journey to the Center of the Earth, you can stop digging now. Have I mentioned I hate her? Because I do, I really do.

Marta with a notepad or a folder in her hands is another one of those moments when I sort of feel like the Universe might be catering to me, but I don’t mind.

Marta is especially demanding in this episode, ordering Luz and Luis around - telling them to get their little butts into gear and work work. Watching the episodes back to back it now sort of stands out to me how she showed one emotion last episode and now she needs to be super competent at her work to make up for it. In her eyes at least. It actually makes me really curious about how much background the actors get on their characters and about future storylines. Because it does sort of come across as this is Marta throwing herself into her work to make up for that perceived failure of last episode, that whole business of her not being able to make her father proud through her unconventional marriage and the fact that she is childless. And knowing that she never will be able to as her marriage is mostly a cage and at best an inconvenience. Her behaviour in this episode gives a sense of - if she can’t make her father proud of who she is, then maybe she can make him proud of her achievements at least. Over-achieving daughter of an emotionally distant man, we've all been there, right?! Right?

As a rule there’s a lot of heartbreak and all kinds of personal problems being aired, but there’s always something about seeing Fina, Carmen and Claudia together in their room that makes me happy. Their room feels like a home, it’s soft and comforting despite at its core being a very spartan dormitory.

Fina telling them she’s going out with Petra and at least Carmen has the decency to not say anything, Claudia on the other hand runs straight for the idea that the two of them will be so pretty together they’ll immediately attract boyfriends. Oh Claudia. I love a good running joke so I sort of hope they never tell Claudia about lesbianism. Let her live her life without knowing that is a thing that exists so that we as an audience can keep mocking her forever and ever.

[notmybitch]

I've only seen the 'Mafin cut' of both friday and today's episodes because I've finally convince my gf to watch the show with me (yay!) and I'm waiting for her so we can watch the full episodes together (less enthusiastic yay). Really short scenes, but here's what I got:

Friday ep:

It breaks my heart that Marta keeps sacrificing herself to keep the situation with Jaime contained. I know she has a long way to go before truly being able to put her happiness first, but men watching her talk about being a 'model wife'? Fucking painful. I hope someone (not Fina probably) makes her see that her staying with Jaime is not the only way to keep safe.

It also hurts to see how Fina had a small hope that they could get back together only for her to get her heart broken again with that conversation. We know (hope?) that the 'definite distance' things is not going to last too long but Fina doesn't, and hearing Marta being so resolute about them was clearly unbearable to her.

I think it's kind of dumb of her to leave now that Isidro might make it and recover, but I understand she should try to make it happen. It will make for good drama at least lol Marta will surely loose her shit when she finds out and I'm beting for them to get back together after she convinces Fina not to go (I've read some of you saying Fina might actually go away and that's where Marta goes in those days we know she's missing, but it would be criminal for them to do that and not show us! I'm freaking out by that choice, enough with robbing us of amazing scenes like the first morning after).

Anyway, as always Carmen is still the best friend a lesbian in the fifties can have. I hope she is the one who tells Marta if Fina leaves, as the good captain she is.

Monday ep:

GO MARTA GO! The anger, the proud stance, everything was *chef kiss* THE WAY SHE SAID 'AMANTE' !!! I'm on my knees.

Fuck Jaime (even though he's mostly right) and lots of love for Luz (babe, I hope you heard it all!).

As for tomorrow: I loved that Jaime seems to say he didn't ask Marta to cut all ties with Marta, but where are they going with that? When is the tumor situation even gonna come up? What's up with the pregnancy??? (I'm afraid to ask at this point) Is Isidro finally going to find out about them????? I'm confused so far.

[somnia-risus]

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER

Summary: Marta panics as Blanc grows closer to finding out the truth; Ransom decides he's going to have to calm her down if they're ever going to pull this off.

Author's Notes: This fanfic takes place in an AU where Ransom ISN'T the one behind the murder plot (he's still a bit of an ass, though) and can be considered a very loose sequel to my first Knives Out fic.

Requested by the lovely @otomiyaa! I hope you enjoy what I've come up with!

The diner was mostly empty now, save for a few tired patrons nursing the last of their cups of coffee. The sound of the overhead lights buzzing was almost deafening, their warm yellow glow hardly comforting. Marta's fingers trembled around the edges of her half-eaten toast, any semblance of hunger long gone. She hadn’t realized just how much she was shaking until she saw the crumbs falling from her hands, tiny flecks that seemed to echo the panic building in her chest. Across from her, Ransom fidgeted absentmindedly with a straw wrapper, eyes flicking up to meet hers every so often.

All things considered, their confrontation had went fairly well, with Ransom even agreeing to help her throw the cops off her scent (in exchange for his portion of the inheritance; of course RANSOM would be at least a little motivated by selfishness). Still, the reality of the situation continued to sing in the longer they sat there, and the pure difficulty of the task at hand weighed on Marta like an anvil.

Ransom leaned back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He was staring at her with a calculating gaze now, like a predator that had caught the scent of something delicious.

"You’re falling apart, sweetheart." He said, his voice low, but there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in it. "And I think you know it, too."

Marta swallowed hard, trying to gather her thoughts. Her mind was a mess of tangled threads, but the one thing that stood out above all else was the tightening noose around her neck. Detective Benoit Blanc had been closer than ever to piecing everything together. The way his eyes flicked to her whenever a new tidbit of information came to light, the quiet, almost imperceptible suspicion that had started to line his words; it was all coming to a head. And she had no idea how to stop it. How could she?

"I didn’t..." Marta began, but her voice faltered as she caught the look in Ransom's eyes. He was studying her now, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something darker, something more serious. He wasn’t making fun of her anymore. There was a sense of...concern in his piercing blue eyes, an emotion she had never expected to see from the man.

Ransom leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, fingers tapping against the worn surface. "Look..." He began, softer now, almost a little too gently. "We can’t afford for you to fall apart right now. Blanc is THIS close to putting two and two together." He held up his thumb and index finger, nearly touching. "You get me? We need to stay calm, stay cool. If you lose it now, we’re screwed."

Marta’s eyes flickered between his, the tension in her shoulders growing tighter. "I-I don’t know what to do." She admitted, her voice cracking. She could feel bile rising up in the back of her throat, the pure anxiety of the situation on the verge of making her sick. "What if he figures it out? What if he-"

"Hey." Ransom’s tone shifted, sharp but not unkind. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers, stilling the frantic motion of her fingers. The warmth of his touch should have been comforting, but all Marta could feel was a rising tide of dread, and the faintest flicker of disbelief at how someone like Ransom Drysdale could possibly be of any comfort.

"You listen to me." He said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. "You did what you had to do. You covered your tracks. Blanc’s smart, sure, but so are you. You didn’t mean to switch up the meds, and you don’t deserve to go down for this. You’re NOT going down for this. Not if I can help it. We're going to bury anything that could lead back to you, got it? Leave no stone unturned."

Martha watched as Ransom stood up, moving to slip into the seat next to her. His suddenly proximity caught the woman off-guard; Ransom had never been the touchy-feely type, and yet here he was, moving closer as if to comfort her. Should she feel comforted? Or like a rabbit caught in a snare?

She met his gaze, searching for something, anything, in his eyes to hold onto. But all she saw was that same determined spark. Ransom was used to running things, used to being in control, and she realized with a sickening jolt that he might be the only person who could keep her from falling apart entirely.

"But...how?" She whispered, too afraid to speak the thought in her head aloud. What if they couldn’t keep up the charade? What if Blanc just...figured it out, no matter what?

"How?" Ransom repeated, his smirk making a reappearance, though it was tinged with something more dangerous now. "Well, it starts with you. you, Marta, you’re going to keep it together. Because if you don’t, this whole thing falls apart." He leaned closer, his voice lowering. "Do you want that? Do you want to see everything you’ve worked for crumble?"

Her breath hitched, and she realized he wasn’t just talking about the inheritance, or her future. He was talking about her life, her future as a free woman. She couldn’t lose that. Not now. Not when she’d already come so far.

"No." She said, her voice small, but steadying.

Ransom’s hand gave hers a light squeeze, his eyes softening for a brief moment, before the familiar smugness returned. "Good. But just 'trying' isn’t enough. You’ve got to DO it. You’ve got to look Blanc in the eye and make him think you’ve got nothing to hide. You’ve got to play it smart. And, sweetheart, you ARE smart. Just stay calm. Breathe. We’ve got this."

Marta exhaled shakily, feeling her pulse still hammering in her chest, but there was something in Ransom’s words that made her feel just a little bit more grounded. For all his flaws, for all his cynicism, Ransom had a way of making her believe that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off.

Ransom's smile widened as he registered the minute relaxation of her facial muscles. "See, there you go. Still, you kinda look like somebody has a gun pressed against your forehead. Let me help with that."

Before she could react, Ransom's hands found their way to her sides. For a moment, she thought he was trying to feel her up, and the woman had half a mind to punch him. But then, his fingers curled inwards, beginning to wiggle gently into the tender flesh. Marta's eyes widened in shock, a squeak escaping her lips before she had a prayer of stopping it.

Ransom chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. "Ticklish, Cabrera?" He asked.

Marta glanced around the diner nervously, a grin already wobbling onto her lips as she tried to hold back nervous giggles. "Rahansom, cut it out! What if somebody sees?" She hissed, ears turning a lovely shade of red.

"Then they'll think we're just a happy couple goofing off while we wait on our check." The other replied, a bit too smugly. His fingers began to wiggle a little quicker, exerting more pressure as they danced down towards her waist. "You know, I seem to recall SOMEBODY teasing me about my own...sensitivities. About a year ago, if my memory is correct. Ring any bells?"

Of course the bastard was teasing her. She should have known her little stunt would come back to bite her in the ass, though this was hardly how she would have imagined it happening.

"Shuhuhuhut up! Gehehehet off of mehehehehehe!" A flood of giggles started pouring past Marta's lips when Ransom took to squeezing at her hips, a few fingers slipping up to scribble over her stomach. "Rahahahahansom!"

By now, a few patrons were glancing their way, though the bemused looks on their faces only proved Ransom's earlier point. From the outside looking in, they were just a young couple goofing around, nothing more. It was almost comforting, in a way, albeit extremely embarrasing.

Marta squealed when Ransom leaned in closer, crooning into her ear. "Feeling more relaxed now, doll face? Or do I need to make you snort in front of all these lovely folks just trying to enjoy their meal?"

A flash of movement outside the diner caught her eye, and Marta froze. Through the foggy window, she saw Benoit Blanc walking toward the entrance.

Her heart dropped to her stomach, and panic surged once more. She opened her mouth, ready to desperately hiss at Ransom to stop, but the other had already taken notice of their impending visitor. He stopped his movements, Marta still shaking with residual giggles.

"Now or never, Marta." Ransom murmured, his hand still on hers, his voice low but firm. After a moment, he stood up, slipping back into the seat across from her. "If he asks, we met to share some stories about gramps. Share our grief, got that?"

Martha's mouth went dry as she nodded.

The door swung open, and Blanc stepped inside, his piercing gaze immediately seeking them out. Marta’s breath hitched in her throat, but she straightened, forcing her shoulders back, trying to find her center again. She could do this. She had to.

"Detective Blanc." Ransom greeted with his usual insufferable charm, standing up and offering the man a wide grin. "Fancy running into you here."

Blanc’s gaze flickered over the two of them, a silent question in his eyes. He said nothing at first, simply observing, before his lips twitched with an almost imperceptible smile.

"Mr. Drysdale. Miss Cabrera." He said, his southern drawl thick with curiosity. "I trust you’re both doing well?"

Marta smiled stiffly, forcing the words out as calmly as she could. "Yes, thank you, Detective."

"I thought you two didn't get along very well?" Blanc questioned, eyebrows raised as he slipped his hands into his coat pockets. "Yet here you are, sharing a nice meal together."

"Marta invited me to lunch; hoped we could talk about gramps for a bit."

"Is that so?" The older man asked, glancing at Marta for confirmation, who offered a strained smile and nod in return. She could feel her palms getting sweaty, that all too familiar urge to hurl churning in her stomach.

"You saw the shitshow that went down when my dear family heard the news about the will; poor gal just wanted someone to talk to that wasn't going to bribe or threaten her." Ransom continued, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes met hers once more, silently signaling for her to chime in.

"Yes, I felt it was best to leave the rest of the Thrombey family to handle their grief and...shock, but I needed someone to talk to...and...Ransom came through." Not a complete lie, she could do this.

Blanc’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, and her stomach twisted in knots. But he said nothing more, merely nodding and wishing them a good evening before turning instead to settle into the booth across the room.

As Blanc ordered his coffee and glanced down at his phone, Marta felt her heartrate slowly begin to return to normal. She looked to Ransom, who shot her a smile that looked almost proud. "What did I tell you? Just stay cool, and we'll get through this." He said, voice low but reassuring.

For once, Martha allowed herself to believe him.

[ayquemepierdolanovela]

Our worst fears are becoming true.

Or not. Everything is going as predicted, but I still think (or I’m hoping?) that they will eventually choose a different path. They obviously have to explore this storyline in depth so that this whole thing doesn’t feel like a cop-out and also because, honestly, they have to keep the story going somehow without rushing the eventual Mafin reconciliation. I wasn’t sure yesterday, but some people theorised that, although Marta might acquiesce to Jaime’s wish for children, he will be in no condition to have them and this all will be for naught in the end, and maybe you guys were right; it’d be a good way to tie things up without compromising the coherence of the characters.

On another note, the surprise Mafin scene took me out and destroyed my soul. How can it be that they take such good care of each other even when they’re broken up? Fina would be devastated if she knew she was inadvertently pushing Marta to have a child with her husband, even though I think in the end she’d be happy for Marta — that’s how much she loves her.

Anyway, I’m choosing to trust the writers, but they may well make me a clown in a couple of weeks. Until then, we’ll keep up the theories.

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 3

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: detailed description of (performed) oral sex, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, explicit language, TW: BDSM/safe wording, angst

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. list

Andy: Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling today?

You’ve been staring at the message on your phone for precisely seventeen minutes now. Andy gets up a bit earlier than you did. As usual. He sends the message when he’s not there when you wake up. As usual. And you’ve been hesitant to reply. Which is not usual.

You roll over on your bed, exiting and re-entering the text message page. You should text him. You know you should. Yet, you drop your phone on your stomach and cover your eyes with your hands.

You wish you rather go back to sleep.

You safe-word last night, and you’ve been… odd.

You came back home as if you have lost half of your soul and don’t even remember how you went to bed. Your mind was, and still is, playing the scene over and over again. How he didn’t make eye contact when he forced you to deepthroat him. How your stomach and your throat protested. How you wanted him a second ago and abominated him the next.

And you are also certain that you ruined his floor. Either that or his carpet. Or both.

Your fingers clench and unclench on your soft beddings, as if it would bring you some comfort. You want Andy, you know for sure, but how can you ever face him when you safeword during sex? And his words last night, “fucktoy”? Does he want you? Does he want you in a sexual way or a spiritual way? More importantly, does he love you? How can he love you if you are so different (at least from the age perspective) and you barely know each other apart from two months of dating? How can anyone fall in love after a dozen dates?

Your eyes are dry. A bit swollen too. Thanks to all the tears you poured onto your pillow, for reasons of God knows what – you kept crying, you felt bad, and the worst part is that you couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, you didn’t know why you were feeling bad.

Your stomach gurls in another protest. Quite a lot protests coming from your body recently, you can’t help but being sarcastic. But you manage to get up from your cozy bed and decide to make yourself some breakfast, secretly hoping breakfast can take your mind off him. Andy. Last night. Whatever.

The TV is playing another episode of Alicia, the leading character of The Good Wife, crying and breaking up with her lover, also her boss – again, you think. Somehow, you are gloating because Alicia has to see Will again at work while you could avoid Andy because you don’t have any of his classes, however, you are also frustrated because Will clearly loves her, and they deserve to be together, not like… Jesus fucking Christ, does Andrew Fucking Barber ever take a break from occupying your head!

Marta is taking up one of the stoves, frying bacon and eggs while sparing a glance at the TV every now and then.

“Hi!” She greets you cheerfully.

“Hi.” You greet back, clearly not in a chatty mood, not that you ever were.

The sizzling of the frying pan and the humming of the kitchen ventilator have you focused on your plate. Your empty plate, which needs to be filled. ASAP. Before you start thinking about the-man-who-must-not-be-named again.

Marta is focusing more on the plot playing rather than cooking. When the character Alicia went out of the room, crying, she can’t help but “awww” in frustration, and stomps her feet on the carpet, “nononono you both idiots! Why don’t you just talk!”

Yeah, talk. As if that’s an easy job.

You are reminded of Andy again. You are pretty sure you need to talk this through or this would be the last action that buries your relationship.

But do you? Want to talk?

Or you want to bury your head under your duvet and just ignore all that had happened?

“Maybe it’s better off this way.” You comment, while making yourself a sandwich, “I don’t think he - Will - wants to settle down.”

Marta shakes her head as fast as she could, “but he loves her!” She exclaims, making a face when Alicia is trying to act normal in front of her family, “the least they could do is to start an affair to get back at her cheating husband!”

“So it’s about payback?”

“It’s about Alicia being stupid!” She slides the fried bacon into her own plate, wiping her hand with kitchen cloth, clearly disagreeing with you, “she loves him, and they deserve being together!”

You munch on an apple, “she has her family… she’s still married.”

“Yeah, married to a cheating husband.” She snorts, chewing the bacon like it’s a crispy chip, “fuck her family. Her kids are ungrateful little brats. Her mother-in-law is awful. And the only kind guy is her brother, who supports her being with the love of her life!”

You grow silent for a small while.

Guilt and regret claw their way back into your body, tugging your heart along with the pain you feel down your throat.

At this point, you can’t tell the difference between your biological pain and your psychological ones any more.

You lost the appetite that’s barely there. The slight interest you had in your apple. Poof. Gone. Even if it’s a small one.

You are a bit annoyed because Marta thinks cheating is “right”, in soaps at least, and you believe the opposite. You are also embarrassed, because deep down, you think what she said has a tiny bit of correctness. Panic, too. Because you think you approve of what she said.

Plus the fact your throat is not getting any better.

Andy: Talk to me, sweetheart. Please. Call me when you feel better.

The ding in your phone nearly has you throwing it half way across the room.

That certainly didn’t help.

You are getting more annoyed by the minute. Clicking your phone back to lock mode, you put it screen down on the kitchen counter without much patience.

Call him. A tempting choice.

A daunting choice.

If only you have the courage to face him. To accuse him of what he did. To address the harm he inflicted on you. To be as brave as the characters in the stories, to face him.

…to be honest, you’d rather pour yourself into writing. Writing stories and fantasies. Writing those perfect men that only exists under your pen and keystrokes.

Maybe that’s the better option. Write of a story you will never post. About some man who loves being a dom in the relationship.

A voice inside your head reminds you. This method is also known as procrastination.

Your phone is on your bed when you are pouring your heart out into a new story. You have Bluetooth headsets playing loud music, aiding you in writing a dramatic scene. You are sitting by your desk, working on your iPad, when the beating drums in your headset turn into a ringtone for phone calls.

Must be the delivery guys. They could never find the correct entrance to your apartment building.

You press the “call” button on your headset, still typing frantically on your screen, “hello?”

No sound. No voice. No nothing.

In just a millisecond, you can tell something is wrong. It doesn’t feel like someone butt-dialed or called the wrong number. And scams would often be more eager to speak than you.

“Hello?” You begin to wonder if you pressed the “pause” button for your music instead of the “call” button. Lifting your headset a little, you can see the blue light is on – which means your phone should still be connected to your headset, which rules out another possibility. You clench your teeth in annoyance, stretching your arm to its utmost limit to reach your phone, “is anyone ther-”

Andy 00:15

And the call is still on.

Andy.

As if someone just pulled out a big vacuum machine and sucked your entire courage and your voice into a tiny box that is locked in outer space.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He sounds hoarse, unlike him.

Do you miss his voice? Hell yeah.

Do you want to talk? Hell no.

But you press your headset tighter to your ears, as if you can hear him more clearly this way.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t want to talk. Please, just … listen.” He croaks at the last word, and some more silence, probably to cover the fact that he, like you, is also on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice your call for help. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through. I know you hate me right now. I’m so sorry for that. I never meant for this to happen. I …” his hesitant voice becomes determined, “I love you, and I-I know it doesn’t mean anything but-”

You hold your breath, waiting for the next sentence that’s about to put an end to your relationship.

This is it. This is the end of your pathetic relationship and your futile attempt at giving a shot with your professor.

But this marks the period of your fun, your hate, everything that’s ever happened between you two.

Gone.

“- you didn’t do anything wrong when you safe word. If you want to put a stop to all of this, I, I…”

His phone vibrates as another call hits his number.

Some papers shuffling in the background, Andy looking for the draft he wrote before making this phone call, clearing his throat, “I… I just want another chance, if that’s okay with you. We’ll start it all over, like the way Ari got back with Ana in Love and War.”

Cheesy. And corny. And not Andy-like at all.

You’d never dream of him quoting from your stories as a make-up line. Not to mention that was your random one-shot story months ago.

You chew on your lower lip, a small chuckle leaving your lips even though tears are still swelling in your eyes.

Andy lets out a breath of relief. Hearing your chuckle has the big stone sets in his stomach, finally not worrying over you still being totally and utterly upset with him.

Though you are still upset, that he needs working on.

“Talk to me, please, sweetheart?”

The begging tone. He’s killing you with it. You couldn’t resist his soft voice, the pleading, and the hint of hope lacing behind his words.

“I dunno, Andy.” You gather all the courage you have left, sitting back on your chair, shifting your weight to one side of your body just as if you are leaning on his shoulder, murmuring to the speaker, “it feels weird, and difficult. And I don’t feel like myself. After I safe word. It’s just …” You feel vulnerable for saying it out loud. You wanted Andy, but not his presence, and the conflict is eating you up like a horrid monster.

Or you are the horrid monster for wanting a man, a man you have known for a mere couple of months, to dominate you. To control you. To break your neck just to place it together again.

You want him to own you. And yet a part of you screams for independence.

You were reckless when you dared to surrender your submission. Now you regret it. You are scared.

You don’t know whether you want this more. Or worse, if you want this less.

Being a sub seems like an inseparable part of being with Andy, and you are not sure if you are completely pliant enough.

But the feeling of giving up control. It’s intoxicating. It has you light-headed. The way he punishes you, brings you both pain and pleasure, calls out to you, like it was meant to be, like you belong to him.

Or you are into D/S relationship, just that Andy is not the right person?

And how are you even able to face him after all this? You were thinking about having him as your dissertation tutor 24 hours ago, and now you are positive that this is not a good idea at all.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Some rustling noises, and a dull thud, then his voices are smaller, sounds like he’s out in the open, “I miss you so much.”

“Miss you too.” You don’t know whether you are lying or not at this point, but you do miss his warm hug and his soft smile.

“Why don’t you look outside your window for me, sweetheart?” He replies, standing by his car, holding his phone in one hand, looking up at your bedroom.

“Oh you did not!” You gasp in shock, can’t believe he pulled another cheesy corny stunt, right in front of your face.

And damn it works.

Andy waves to you when he sees your face by the window, blowing you a kiss. You can hear the smugness in his voice when he says, without a single trace of regret, “sorry about turning your words – your stories, to be precise – against you.” Damn him when he borrows all the tricks from your stories, your plot, your design, your idea about how to make up.

It's not original but it sure as hell matches exactly how you want it to be.

He looks at you, and he sees you.

He understands you.

Does this mean you should equally understand him too?

You dash out of the room before you brain could react, the questions in your head only a mere glimpse, a spark of thought, which you quickly throw away when you run down the stairs of your apartment building, not even caring you are in your fuzzy slippers and thin pajamas or the fact that you could literally break your neck running like that.

Nothing matters.

You need to see him right this second. Touch him. Kiss him. As if he is the string that attaches you to the ground, preventing you from drifting into space.

“Sweetheart?” Andy takes his phone away from his ear to take a good look at the screen.

You just hung up on him.

He thought he had you. You were so close to forgiving him and what he had done, but…

Is it too much? Showing up, in person, on your doorstep?

Were you scared?

He is going to dial your number again when you run into his arms. Catching him completely off guard.

“Hey.” He kisses your cheek, his arms circle your waist, gently stroking your back.

“Hey.” You inhale deeply. His woody cologne wraps you around, having you bury your face in his collar. Soft. Warm. Comforting. The skin contact you have been wanting ever since last night is finally relieved from your mind.

“I’m sorry about being rough last night. Really am.” Andy dips down to capture your lips in a brief peck, his blue eyes sparkling with a hint of giddiness as he notices you are welcoming his close proximity instead of rejecting it.

“I’m sorry too. Safe word and all that … I must have you worried.” You hug him tighter, blinking to prevent the tears from falling again.

“Hey hey hey.” He cups your face with his palm, “don’t EVER apologize because of safewording. I’m glad you are able to use it. Or I could…” hurt you more, but he chooses not to say that, “that’s the purpose of safe word, telling me to stop. And you make me so proud of using it instead of not. I know it’s a lot to take in, but you did nothing wrong.”

You hide your face on his shoulder again, having him sigh and hug you back, “you sound like kindergarten teachers.” You mumble, “and I feel like a crybaby.”

“Well, I am a teacher. So there’s nothing wrong with that.” Soft kisses land on your hair and your temple, “but improper use of adjectives, I’d say.”

“Yeah, you’re a university professor-”

“Not that,” he grins from ear to ear, wrapping your body in his jacket, which makes you slightly puzzled, raising your chin to look at him, waiting for his answer, “you’re not a crybaby. You’re my baby.”

Taglist: @geminiflanagansblog@wintasssoldier

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

The Girls' Trip Fairy Tale Ending--Chapter 3 of 5

Summary:  This is my combined birthday gift for Joni (  @jrob64​  ), Marta ( @snowbellewells ) and Krystal ( @kmomof4 ).  Happy birthday ladies! Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry.  He gives them an each a gift–an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it.  Large focus on CS, although other characters and relationships will be explored.  A big shoutout to @hollyethecurious​ and @winterbaby89 for betaing!

Word Count: 2897

Other chapters:  (1) (2) (4)

Can also be found on: (ao3) (ff.net)

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Note: Happiest of birthdays to Marta, @snowbellewells! I hope you enjoy your trip into the book! (You might want to sit down when you read this; there is a decent chance you'll swoon, hehe.)

Chapter 3

The book deposited Marta somewhere in the middle of the Storybrooke cemetery as dusk settled over the town. She grinned, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be–and because against all odds and logic, she was about to actually meet and interact with Graham. Best. Girls’. Trip. Ever.

She wasn’t going to fulfill her purpose by standing here and thinking about the surrealism of her situation, though. She needed to find Regina’s vault, and she needed to find Emma and Graham before Regina did.

She scanned the cemetery past rows and rows of completely ordinary tombstones, some with loving epitaphs and others rather nondescript.  She even saw one on which was etched three bears standing side by side. The epitaph for this stone read “Jesus saves.”

Finally, in the distance she saw the large mausoleum with its twin pillars and its circular crest, emblazoned with antlers or curved vines. Marta wasn’t entirely clear what they were supposed to represent.

Even more significantly, she saw the three figures of Emma, Graham, and Regina standing before it. They spoke for a few moments, and then Regina threw a punch, which Emma quickly returned, before slamming Regina up against the vault.

Marta’s heart sank; she hoped she wasn’t too late. 

As Emma began walking purposefully toward her cruiser, Graham not far behind, Marta knew she had to make her move.

“Graham was right,” Marta said quickly, catching up to Emma. “Regina is keeping his heart in the vault!”

Emma stopped and stared at her for a long moment. “Is there something in the water today? Have I dropped into some bizzaro world where I’m the only person who hasn’t lost my mind? Do you realize how you crazy you sound, Marta?”

“Yeah, I’m sure I sound insane,” Marta said, “and normally I’d give you the opportunity to figure all of this out on your own, but right now… it’s literally a matter of life and death. We can’t let Regina get to that heart!”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment, growling in frustration. “Okay, say I believed you,” she finally said, encompassing both Marta and Graham in her glance, “we searched the vault. There’s nothing there but a coffin.”

Marta didn't know how much she should or could intervene. It was probably best to be a little cryptic and circumspect.

"It seemed like you were interrupted in your searching," she said. "I'm sure there's more to be discovered there than you realize."

"She's right, Emma,"  Graham insisted. " I can still feel it. It’s there somewhere."

"Look, Graham,"  Emma said gently, taking his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. "It’s been a difficult and emotional day for you. Please just take a breath and trust me. Everything is going to be alright."

Marta saw the moment Graham conceded, and she began to panic. “You have to listen to me!” she tried again. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true!”

Emma shook her head. “Look, we already tried searching for it, and that led to an encounter with Regina that I don’t think either of us is ready to repeat anytime soon. If there’s something there, we can always come back and look for it another time, but until then, there’s a first aid kit in the sheriff’s station that’s calling my name.”

“But–” Marta tried one last time, but they were already gone.

Now what?

She considered heading back to the vault and confronting Regina herself, but she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to go up against the Evil Queen–even in the Land Without Magic. What she needed was an ally.

And then it clicked. Henry. Who better than the truest believer, who had been working so hard on Operation Cobra, to help her stop his mom from doing something irreversible?

She needed to get to Henry now … wherever he was.

She’d no sooner had the thought than she was at the front door of the mayor’s mansion. She could really get used to traveling at the speed of thought like this! Knowing she didn’t have a moment to lose, she rang the doorbell and then waited impatiently until Henry opened the door.

“Marta?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s an Operation Cobra emergency!” she said. “We have to get to your mom’s vault A.S.A.P.”

Without a word, Henry grabbed his coat and followed her out the door. As they rushed back to the cemetery, Marta filled Henry in on what was happening–being careful to heavily edit the situation, not entirely sure it was suitable for ten-year-old ears.

“And so,” Marta finished, just as the vault came into view, “I thought you could distract your mom, and then I’ll grab the heart and take it back to Sheriff Humbert.”

To Marta’s profound relief, the plan went off without a hitch. When they got to the mausoleum, Marta hid behind a nearby tree while Henry called out for Regina. She came rushing out, and Marta slipped in behind her just as Henry started in on a tale of how he didn’t know where Regina was and he’d been worried.

Thankfully, Regina hadn’t had time to push her father’s coffin back into place before rushing out to her son, and Marta ran down the cold, stone stairs, heart pounding, fearing to find a pile of dust instead of a heart, but to her relief, she saw it right away, bright red and glowing from inside the small box in which Regina had kept it. Marta took a moment to peer into the box to make sure she truly had her prize before closing the lid and making her way back outside. 

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

The next thing Marta knew, she was standing in the doorway of the sheriff’s station just as Graham leaned in and kissed Emma. No sooner had his lips touched hers than he pulled back with a gasp, his eyes blown wide.

“Emma,” he said in wonder, “I remember!”

“You remember … what?” Emma asked carefully.

“Everything,” Graham answered. 

Marta stepped forward. “Then I’m sure you’ll be pleased to see this again.” She extended the box toward him.

Graham gasped. “You got it? You really found it? How?”

“Let’s just say…” Marta said, “I knew where to look.”

For a moment, Emma merely looked back and forth between the two of them, her confusion and unease plain to see all over her face, and then she threw up her hands and headed for the door.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know what the hell is going on around here tonight, but it’s just … too much. I forwarded the station phones to my cell; I’m going home. Graham just … take care of yourself, okay?”

He smiled at her gently. “See you tomorrow? Maybe we can talk.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Promise you’ll get some rest?”

“You have my word.”

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

When Marta blinked again, she found herself just inside the door of Granny’s diner.  She glanced around, confused.  She didn’t remember this scene from the show.  Maybe it was something new created because of her changes?

Marta noted that it was dark outside, so it must be evening.  Was it the same evening as her previous scenes had taken place?  What was she meant to do here?  Just as she considered stepping out the door, she spotted Graham sitting alone at a booth near the back of the diner.  He slowly brought a porcelain cup to his lips and took a sip as he looked pensively down at the wooden box in which Regina had kept his heart.

With no idea what she was intended to do, Marta decided she might as well join Graham.  He looked up as she approached the table, and a smile lit up his face at the sight of her.  He gestured to the opposite seat of his bench, and she took the offered seat.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Marta,” Graham said.  “If you hadn’t been there, hadn’t believed my wild tale, I shudder to think what might have happened.”

Marta felt a shiver go up her spine, remembering what really HAD happened in the original storyline.  “It was no trouble,” she assured.  “I knew you were right, and I didn’t want anything worse to happen to you.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand with another gentle smile.  “Thank you, nonetheless.  I know the things I’ve said and done over the past day have been–difficult to believe–but you’ve had faith in me even so, and I appreciate it more than you know.”

“Well,” Marta said, “I … know more than you think.  I believe you.  On all of it.”

“Do you?” he asked, surprised.

Marta nodded.  “And I know that you’ve been controlled entirely too long.  You need to get your heart back in your chest.”

Graham sighed, and glanced sightlessly out the window.  “Then you know I need a magic wielder to make that happen.  The only ones currently in this town are Regina and Mr. Gold, neither of which I trust to help me.”

Marta thought for a moment and a specific scene came to mind: Mulan returning Aurora’s heart in Rumplestiltskin’s cell.

“I’m not entirely sure that’s true,” Marta said.  “I’ve, well, I’ve seen a non-magical person return a heart.”

He glanced at her quizzically.  “Just who are you, Marta?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked with a small, secret smile.

His returning smile could light up an entire room.  “Perhaps I would.”

For several moments, Marta couldn’t speak, could barely remember her own name or why she was here.  That smile was lethal.

“Anyway, that’s … not important,” she answered, still more than a little flustered.  “The point is, I think it can be done.  I could try, if you’d be willing to let me.”

He was silent for a moment, considering it, and then he nodded.  “It’s worth a try.”

Graham got to his feet, and Marta gave him a questioning look.  “I’d assume you shoving a red glowing object into my chest might attract… attention.  I thought it would be best to go somewhere a bit more secluded.”

Nodding at the wisdom of that, Marta got to her feet and followed Graham to the back hallway of Granny’s, where he gave her his heart. (Marta was sure for the rest of her days she would never forget the warm fuzzy feeling that gave her.)  Holding it carefully, she hesitated for a moment, before quickly plunging her hand into his chest.

Graham gasped, closing his eyes and grimacing in pain for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Marta asked quickly.

After a moment, he opened his eyes, and the smile that came over his face would put the sun to shame.  “I’ve never in my life been better,” he said, “and I have you to thank for it.”

Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips, placing a quick, grateful kiss on its back.

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

Marta was fairly certain she’d swooned after Graham kissed her hand, and this time when she came to, she found herself in Mary Margaret’s flat. Emma sat at the kitchen table, pushing around the cereal in her bowl rather listlessly.

Breakfast time, then–must be the next morning.

“Emma?” Marta asked, taking a seat on the other side of the table, “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. Last night was kind of a lot.”

Emma snorted.  “Yeah, you could say that.  I have a knock-down, drag-out fight with the mayor, who also happens to be my son’s mom. My boss kisses me and then has some sort of … break with reality.  All in a day’s work in Storybrooke, right?  I’ve only been in this town a few weeks, but already I realize things are just … weird … here.”

“Well that is one way to put it,” Marta replied. “But … maybe try to keep a bit of an open mind about Graham.  Obviously he was going through … something … yesterday.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Not you too!”

Marta’s brows furrowed.  “Not me … what?””

“Mary Margaret’s already been all over me this morning about closing my heart to love and not giving Graham a chance, and being afraid, and, well, whatever other crap she mentioned.”

“So I take it you told her about your kiss,” Marta prodded.

“Yeah, and she jumped all over it,” Emma said with a frustrated huff.  “Got all excited, talking like I’d just started dating my true love or something.  It was just …way too much for this early in the morning”

Marta chuckled.  “Knowing her, I can imagine.  She means well; just wants you to be happy.”

“I know she does,” Emma sighed.  “I just wish she’d back off a little sometimes.  I’ve been a loner for a long time.  I’m not used to… friends.”

“Well you have them now,” Marta said, “and that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma said slowly, “except when they're jumping to too many conclusions about my love life.”

“Okay, I could see that,” Marta conceded. “So what are your thoughts about Graham and what happened last night.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said, looking down at her bowl of cereal and continuing to drag her spoon through it.  “I do have, I don’t know, feelings of some sort toward him.  I do care about him, but … well, for one thing, he’s clearly going through something right now.  I don’t know if he’s sick and delirious, or something else, but all that crap he was saying back at the office–”

“Yeah, I know it strains credibility,” Marta said carefully.  This was harder to navigate than she’d anticipated.  If she said too much would she change the future?  Was Emma even ready to hear it?  “Maybe he just needs a little time.  You probably do too.”

Emma barked out a laugh.  “That’s for sure.”

For a few moments, the two were silent, thinking about the conversation and the events of the past day.  Finally, Emma spoke up again.

“It’s not just Graham’s … issues, though, to be honest.”

“What else is bothering you?” Marta asked.

“It’s just … those feelings I feel toward Graham? I don’t think it’s love.  I just don’t think I feel for him what I should feel for the man I’m in love with.  I don’t want to start something and hurt him later.  I know I’m the last person who should have this, I don’t know, romanticized view of love, but I just feel like there should be more to it than this.”

Marta smiled gently, thinking about a certain leather clad pirate Emma was only weeks from meeting for the first time.  She thought about their epic love story that even death itself couldn’t stop.  “Emma,” she said, “I have no doubt that epic, passionate, all-consuming true love is out there for you, and I have a sense that it’ll find you sooner than you think.  Until then, there’s nothing wrong with keeping things with Graham at the friendship level.”

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

Emma thanked Marta for the talk and then headed for the station.  Left alone in the loft, Marta wondered what else she was meant to do.

Then she noticed the storybook–the storybook Lucy had at the start of season 7, the one that contained all of the events of canon along with the past fairy tales.

Maybe she was supposed to flip through and see what changed thanks to her ministrations?

She paged through until she found the events of the past day, and then she moved forward.  Regina, angry with being thwarted and concerned with how much of the truth Graham might know, came up with a creative–and particularly cruel–way to solve her problem.  After convincing the town that Graham had suffered a mental break and was no longer fit for duties as sheriff, she had him committed to the Storybrooke mental asylum in the hospital basement.

It appeared the rest of season one continued largely the same as canon.  Curious what would happen following the breaking of the curse, Marta kept reading.

After the curse, Graham was freed from the mental hospital and went on to team up with Ruby to head up the task force to reunite people with their missing loved ones.  Working together brought the two of them closer, and it wasn’t long before they began dating.

Through the seasons, Graham continued to help the heroes as various villains showed up and were subsequently defeated.  Eventually, he and Ruby decided to pull back from the craziness and enjoy their life together, even as the world continued to crash around them.

It was all Marta could have hoped for her favorite first Storybrooke sheriff.

She’d no sooner closed the cover of the book than she felt a tug in her midsection, and the room around her began spinning.  She closed her eyes against the sudden dizziness.  When she opened them again, she was back in the living room of her cabin, looking at the eager faces of her friends.

“I can’t wait to tell you what just happened!” she said excitedly.

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Isaac said irritably.  “Come on; I don’t have all night.  Who’s next?”“I think it’s my turn,” Krystal said, a blood-thirsty gleam in her eyes, “and I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

Notes:

--I hope you enjoyed your birthday gift, Marta! Your affinity for a certain handsome Storybrooke sheriff who deserved so much better is well known to all of us. Since we got so little of him in canon, I thought I'd give you more one on one interaction with him!

--Up next: A bit of a longer hiatus. The next chapter will be posted on October 15, Krystal (@kmomof4's) birthday. We'll be moving on to the missing year between 3a and 3b, and Krystal will get a chance to give Neal the ending he deserves. (Cue evil laughter)

NEXT CHAPTER-->

[reddogf13]

Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 3

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH 2: Purgatory

Next chap: CH 4: Eucharist

___________________

~Ch:3 Atonement~

When he heard Val had survived the massacre in the mines. His stomach dropped, filled by a phantom lead, then readied to vomit. Heart stilled by the memory's of facing her that now could repeat in the future. She can't be alive. Refusing to believe it, Blake furrowed his brows. “How do you know?”

“He came hours after Knoth's death to mock us all. Laughing beyond Templegates edge.” Marta sneered while repeating Val's words. “ “Our God didn't fuck the earth, but your Father fucked you all!”.”

Blake considered what to ask after Marta turned angrier around the topic. He choked down his ill stomach for the next question. “Why hasn't she tried to take over?”

“Knoth's gone, but I'm still here. He knows not to test me.”

“Ah... Yeah.” Relieved at hearing Val wouldn't be coming to visit. Yet, how long would that last? Marta kept her back for now, but was it because Val didn't know of her injury yet? “... So, how'd they escape? Broke themselves free?”

“No, someone let them free when the fires broke. I don't know who, but I do know it must be someone around here. I didn't see anyone who wasn't suppose’ to be in Temple Gate that night. Only those free after the deed was done and I was too occupied by the fires to hunt them.”

“Great.” He breathed. So Val might know of Marta's injuries by now. Maybe she's injured too and only biding her time to take a crack at Temple Gate. He looked around at the ramshackle town. Already brought down so low when Knoth was around. Would it stand a chance if Val swarmed over it with a group of heretics? I guess it's not my problem. Tossing the thought aside. If only it didn't return shortly to nag him. Silenced fully when his stomach painfully growled. Remembering what he even came down for. Walking onward toward the great hall he first challenged Knoth at. Hoping that some scrap of food was inside when he arrived. Following behind him was Marta with a group lagging slightly behind to give her space.

Passing by the burnt church along the way. The group stopped to look down at the rotten body of Knoth. Shooting glares while one boldly spat on the corpse before they caught up to Blake. Regretting their choice when faced by Marta's ire. “What ungrateful-”

“Marta!” Blake's voice warned her back. She shot him an agitated look with clenching fists. Untensing on a few bible verses spoken. Others gave her a wide birth the entire time she chained out verses. Blake entered the grand hall through the front doors this time. Tall windows off to the left with an open ceiling showing large rafters. Passing by the long rows of dining tables with the higher stage at the back. A pair of double doors off to the right side grabbed Blake's attention. Walking around a large L shaped bar top he Opened them and found the large community kitchen. Noticing its age based on some appliances he was sure of being from the 70s or 80s. The fridges being more “modern” than the black iron stoves. Made to hold wood for cooking with similar black metal vents going into the ceiling. Whole place having not been used for a while based on the dust over everything. He assumed people didn't eat together, but in the privacy of their homes. Would be weird eating together with people who tried to kill you earlier. Turning back to the people still following. “Stay here. Sit down.” Lightly gesturing to the room. He didn't want them all trying to crowd in after him. The kitchen cramped enough with only a small walkway around the place.

He opened a few cabinets that only contained dishes. Moving to others full of various kitchen supplies like dish soap. Checking a small door he found what he was looking for, a pantry filled with canned foods. Grabbing a can of spam he winced a little at its best by date 15 years past. Reading similar expiration dates on every other can in there. Guess I'll be able to tell when I open it? Concerned that it would be rotten and tainted by a metallic flavor. Using a butter knife he popped open the lid. Inspecting the meat that had stayed fresh from what he could see. No strange smell or slime, although the flavor was lost to time. Tasting of nothing as he ate it plainly gripped in hand like a bread loaf. Working his way through the meal he took in the room to pass the time. Locking onto one of Knoth's paintings of himself with a golden disk mimicking other holy prophet paintings. Losing his appetite in the room, Blake removed himself to head outside. Not wanting to even be in a building with one of Knoth's depictions, he rather stand out by Marta. She stood outside staring off toward the burnt church with growing annoyance. Murmuring more bible verses or strips of Knoth's gospel. He looked and saw a group gathered by the building causing his curiosity to grow. Heading over there he finished the bland spam to investigate the commotion.

The freed gathered around Knoth's corpse to prod at it. Confirming to themselves personally that Knoth was indeed dead. Blake grimaced at the corpse laying out in the open. Hating to see his face even more now than when he was alive. Couldn't this town be rid of him already? Even In death he still lingers to torment people with his presence. Blake decided to do something about him. Shooing away some to clear the body he took the pick in his hands. Slamming it under the body to lean back in hooking it on. Wincing at the smell releasing from the bloated corpse. Others stepped back with a cover of their noses. A disgusting thick old blood mixed slime stretched from it to the dirt. Leaving a slick trail behind as Blake dragged him away from everything toward a ditch in the distance. Tossing him in finishing the first step he had lined up. Walking back to the grand hall he searched the cabinets for a small box full of matches. With that in hand he grabbed the painting of Knoth. Gathering similar depictions off the hall walls or framed on desks. Gospel papers crumpled in his grip to join the collected kindling. A pile forming over Knoth of all his monuments across Temple Gate. Many joined in, not only slaves, to toss their saved gospels. Paintings, photos, personal letters to written down commands. It grew further as everyone hunted down the false idols to add. Marta showed her clear displeasure for what Blake was doing. Her mumbling of verses turned louder toward a normal speaking tone. Words traveling down the halls out the grand buildings doors she had hid inside. Blake, having heard her, followed the trailing verses back to her praying under a large chandelier in the middle of an empty meeting room.

He approached her side with still many items held under an arm. “You okay?” His voice calm when asking.

She stopped her uttering of verses to coldly look down upon him. “You took him from our holy town and now you wish to kill his memory. How much more will you take, Angel? When our faith is dead will you be satisfied? Or when our souls are reaped like his? They know not what they're doing. Betraying our Lord by turning away our prophets teachings. His gospel should be treasured for what it gave us. Are you happy about the ruin you bring us?”

“You're one to talk.” He huffed. “How many did Knoth have you kill? You blame me, but I didn't kill Knoth either really. What's going to make you happy? If Knoth returned right now and demanded you to kill, other than me, would you be happy then? Could you look down on those families who just reunited and say they deserve to die?” Marta's piercing stare faltered against his words. “You want to save Knoth's teachings so bad? Then take it.” Holding out the dreaded pick to her. “Kill for him again.”

She flinched away from its form held toward her. Face losing what little color it had. Side eyeing the weapon she once wield as a righteous deliverer of justice. Now treated as a cursed object to be rejected at all cost. Shrinking back under its damning shadow falling over her.

“Knoth's last command was to kill me. Will you? He knows you didn't like killing. Why couldn't he have done it himself? Because of his religious restrictions that he forced you to break? For everyone to break all these years. What did his gospel do for you, Marta? … Will you save it?” Arm tiring from the pick he set its end on the ground. Its weighted thud into the floor boards echoed around them. Sounding close to a gavel sending its judgment down on the guilty.

She hesitated to face him and the blade, her breath stolen in the moment. When it was regained she answered a shaken. “No.” Stepping back to leave deeper into the darkened half of the building. Acting as if being offered such a chance had directly struck down her soul. Requiring urgent healing care as far as possible from the black picks toxic presence.

He sighed at her retreat into the dark. I'll check on her later. Returning to the ditch now completely filled by all sorts of junk that merely mentioned Knoth's name. Tossing in his arm full, he waited for any more stragglers to toss the last. Head facing one side down to the other of those gathered behind him. “Got all that we could?” The crowd agreed along with head nodding. “Alright.” Blake spoke with the strike of a match. Urged to say something while scowling down at all the imagery burying the one they depicted. “For what you've done. … An eternity in hell isn't enough.”

A burning match tossed down into the papers. It spread a fire from the inside out of the pile. When Blake walked off right after, so did everyone else. No one wanted to mourn that monster burning deep down in a pit. Along the way he saw so many other dead rotting out under the baking sun. Their smell caused Blake's eyes to water after almost gagging on it. “Fuck.” Lightly cursing his tugging heart to do something. He thought to burn them, it was the quickest way. Yet he didn't want to get rid of them the same way he did to Knoth. With how many there were, he would need a lot of help. Turning to the people he asked them to. “Fetch some shovels. We're making graves.” Thankful that they did what was asked. Many hours later a long mass grave had been made. Far too many body's to space out for proper single graves. Buried and covered by various stones that many scratched names into. Blake placed three of his own. One for Lynn and the other two for Ethan and his daughter. A depressing number of people killed over many years by Knoth now put to rest. Trees free of strung up bodies. Suicide victims taken out of homes. Freed of cages they weren't freed from in life. Untangled from barbed wire stringing them up on poles for scarecrows. The streets were far more empty, now that so much death was cleared.

Blake feared the next, and most deserving, to be put to rest. Entering the building whose floor was made up of burnt children. He quietly apologized to the small room. Knowing he walked across them to reach Lynn. This would require ginger care to move them all. Their body's burned together were carefully separated to be wrapped in white cloth. Bodies of others were already in wooden boxes lined up inside. Ready to be buried, but never were until now. Walked to a grave set under a large lone oak tree in an open field. Placed with them were flowers or toys the townspeople gathered. When it was done and filled in, it too was covered by various rocks with carved names. This funeral lasted longer than the others. Blake stood by respectfully until the last person left at sundown.

Passing by the people in town he saw in their eyes a presence of awe toward him, but also fear. After his interaction with Marta he studied the pick axe in his hands. He wasn't superstitious and was sure it wasn't cursed. He did see however, that it had a burden tied to it. Weighing down on Marta with each new kill under its blade. Its burden now tying itself to him in intimidating those around him. Same as all those gospel papers, he knew, this too had to go. Could he really say anyone was free while they were terrified of being killed? Either by him or if by chance Marta took it back. It would put him at risk to not have a weapon, but then what was the point? He keeps it and people stay obedient because they're scared of him, exactly as Knoth kept things. Sickened by that he almost abandoned it right then and there. Holding off on that, it needed a grander send off then being dropped in the dirt. If it were only so easy for everyone else. Take their burdens and toss it far away to make themselves free. Marinating on the thought he figured out a way they could. Returning to the patio of the grand hall he took a deep breath.

Shouting toward the first stars appearing, hoping all would hear him. “Tomorrow, grab an object. One that has meaning to you, but one you will not miss. Meet me here tomorrow.” Stepping inside to pass the few freed without homes.

He was stopped by one. “What if we have nothing?”

“A rock will do.” Picking something common that anyone could take. He headed through the back doors dead tired and beyond sore from digging those deep graves. Opening doors one by one to check their insides. Some offices, a cleaning closet then he found a storage space in the middle. Having a line up of basic cots, surrounded by storage shelving, he was thrilled to see the bedding unused by anyone. Judging off them being covered in a thick layer of dust that poofed off in a choking cloud. Before laying in bed he went to the door to lock it shut. Fearful at the thought someone would sneak in to strangle him to death. Soon as he laid down he was out until the following afternoon.

Slow to wake, but knowing he had something important planned he stretched. Popping multiple places along his spine when he hissed after his shoulder locked up. Still feeling that bruise marking his first day here, at least it was lighter than before. Sliding from the bed he looked down at the pick left on the floor. Tired again at the mere thought of picking it up again. I'll be glad when I'm rid of you. Hoisting it up into his hands. Unlocking the door he passed down the hall steps echoing along the whole way. Worrying that nobody heard him last night. That he'd need to go awkwardly knock on doors. Hope Temple Gates full of morning people. I don't want to get a knife to the head. When he passed through the end door a smile twitched onto his face. The huge room full of people sitting at the tables talking to one another. Quieting down soon as they saw him enter. Blake stepped over to the small podium set at mid stage.

“Thank you for coming.” Gazing across the crowd of faces he saw one in particular was absent. “Stay here, I'll be right back. When I do, we'll head out.” He left the podium to search around the grand hall first. Unable to find her he went around the empty town. How do I lose someone who's seven fucking feet tall? Running into a few stragglers along the way. “Have you seen Marta?”

“In her chapel?” They pointed off toward a certain direction.

“Thank you.” Rushing off toward the tall building he was certain was the one. Arriving he came to a stop at the large front door. Knocking on it to announce his presence he received no answer. Opening the door it creaked loudly to announce his presence all the more. Right away he saw the tall woman sitting in a chair. The sunlight pooling in from behind him providing the only bit of light inside. She was sitting completely in the dark, slumped forward, exhausted, wearing a long face after crying not too long ago. “Marta?” He spoke softly. “I need you to come to the lake. Just for a little while, please.”

She glanced over to him, wincing at the sight of the pick in his hands. “I can't let the sun touch me. The Lord would not like it to shine on me.”

His head tilted down, knowing he wasn't always the best at cheering others. “I think he would.” Giving it a try at least. “Especially today, it's very important you're there. I can help clear you of your sins.” He stood between the doorway, waiting. Unable to do this without her he'd stand there all day if he had to. Maybe the ceremony will happen at night then. Joking, but hoping that wouldn't be the case.

“Can you do that?”

“If I'm an angel, I can.” doing his best to give a reassuring smile. Judging from Marta's poker face he wasn't sure if it worked at first. Without a word, she stood to do what he asked of her. He saw the pain inside written all over her face and in how she acted. Keeping away from the object in his hands if it was motioned toward her. Lagging behind as he led the way back to the hall. Gathering the others onward to the lake in a large assembly.

“Gather along.” Gesturing down along the rocky shore. Questioning himself on if this was the best place or maybe a cliff. Least a cliff wouldn't smell like rotten fish, but too late now. Patiently he waited for the others to shuffle into place. Many fidgeted with small objects in their hands. Most appearing out of the chosen objects he saw were crosses. Golden sun beamed down on them from the clear blue sky. Lake looking far nicer than it was the last time he saw it. Not a dead fish in sight despite the lingering smell of them. Birds tweeting from far off tree lines on the other shore. “Marta.” He called forward from the crowd. Tapping a spot in front of him for her to stand. She didn't have an object, but she also didn't need one since Blake brought one for her. He stretched out the weapon in front of him, laid across his opened palms. “Take it.” Set out in offering it to Marta, who again flinched away from it. By the looks on peoples faces he could tell his request scared the crowd. Speaking softly to break their moment of nerves he repeated. “Take it. When you do, toss it as far as you can into the lake. When you toss it, it will take all your sins with it.”

Marta looked between him and the pick. Bringing her hands under it she twitched away at first like tapping hot iron. As he lowered it fully into her grasp she wasn't prepared for its weight, shifting herself to keep it hoisted up. He smiled at her then stood back to give her room. She looked down sorrowfully at it, then closed her eyes for a deep breath. Opening them again she leaned the offending weapon back till it tapped the shore to launch it swirling over the water. Appearance like a black disk before it slammed into the surface creating a huge splash. Sinking deeply into the lake's darkness never to be found again.

“Nice throw.” Complimenting her with a wave of the next person to come forward. Repeating the line he said before to them. “Throw it and let your sins go with it.” A line of people forming to toss all their selected items. People weighed down by their guilt uplifted when they committed their toss. Smiling between one another on the enlarging side throughout the ceremony. Watching the event go on, Blake dipped back into his thoughts. What will you do now? Nagging him that he had to keep this whole thing rolling. Everything's clean. People are happy for the most part. Stomach growling to nag him next about neglecting to eat since yesterday morning. Open another spam when I get back. Mm, can't live on that forever around here. First the spam then the rest will go. Does this place have any farms? There were corn fields, but I don't remember much on them. The livestock rotting won't be any good by now. Fuck, what do we have to work with? Maybe farming shouldn't be first. Turning his head toward the forest surrounding them. Some deer have to be out there or berry bushes. Make some traps for rabbits. Could we fish? Scanning the water. No chance. I don't know what happened to the water before with all the dead fish. Metal poisoning or a toxic algae bloom could be happening. Thinking back on the time him and Lynn reported a case of that on an ocean coast line. Warning people not to eat anything they caught for the next few weeks. Dead things from birds to big seals were washing up dead. He didn't know if it'd wash away in a lake like it would in open ocean. If I start to see fish that would be the first sign it's getting better at least. Still I wont take a sip until it's tested for metal… Were people drinking from this? Were they using the water for farms? Crap, didn't think about that. Cant farm without a major water source for it all. Okay, let's keep all this simple. Hunting and gathering. Figure out the rest later… Wait, does this make me the mayor now? Can I run a town? Can I run this town? Thoughts running off on their own throughout the ceremony.

Sun lowering from its tall noon stature by the time the ceremony was complete. People smiling while they talked to one another. Marta kept a blank face while she leaned against a leafless tree under the sun. Her changes a lot more subtle than everyone else's. Breathing easier under the sun she hid from earlier. Blake didn't want to interrupt the truly happy moment these people had, but he needed to find out more. Specifically if there were any farmers left to work.

Approaching the group he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “Any of you farmers?” The townspeople looked between all of them. Shaking their heads when he looked to a few. His heart sank the longer there was no positive answer. Giving up he turned to teaching how to farm himself as the go to. Saved from that when one older man stepped forward through the parting crowd.

“I am.” He was mid 60s, partly balding with darker hair. A big scar crossed diagonally over his face to split a part of his lip and one eyebrow. “Most of us who worked the fields ain't around no more. It's just me now.”

“Can you teach others how?”

“Sure.”

“Good, what's your name?”

“James, sir.”

“Do you know the fields around here?”

“Yeah, but ain't much. About all our fields are dirt. Knoth told us not to bother replanting since… Well.” Shifting his shoulders. “Only corn stalks that have been picked clean by now. The bad ones were left behind.”

“Can you start planting again?”

“Naw, not a speck of seeds or grain in our barn. I can grab what's left of those inedible cobs for corn seeds. But that next harvest can't be planted 'till April at the soonest.”

Damn, that's months away. Octobers only halfway now. “Okay, start collecting as much as you can along with whatever else you can find. Take as many people as you need to help you out.” Worried about the water supply he added. “Don't plant anything yet though.” Sending the farmer off who took along five people with him. Blake faced back to the crowd. “Any of you hunters?” Happy to get a faster response.

A slightly younger man around 40s with dark hair. Face covered in many small scars that parted what short dark stubble was on his face. “My names John, sir. I used to go out on regular hunting trips.”

“Perfect. I think we're going to need you a lot right now. Any more work with you? Can you train others?”

“A few of us. My son and a couple men. I can train more starting on basic traps.”

“Great, know how to forage too?”

“Yes sir, now's the best time for berry's before they go away.”

“Okay, same as I told James. Collect as much as you can and take as many people as you need. I want to save canned food as much as possible. Come back with what you've gotten at the end of the day.” Announcing to the crowd. “Only eat canned if there's not enough fresh food to go around.”

“Umm.” John nervously said before quieting.

“Yes?” He asked carefully to not scare John quiet. Knoth I'm guessing didn't like to hear any “but's.” Have to make sure nothing slips by because of that.

“I don't have any equipment to hunt bigger things. I can set traps for rabbits and forage, but that's 'bout it.”

“That's fine. Catch or gather whatever you can. We're all starting from the bottom.”

“Yes sir.” John dipped his head before heading off collecting his mentioned three and twelve others.

Blake took in a deep breath of air. Foods being worked on. Time to start rebuilding.

[futbol16]

As your Captain ・ Barcelona Femení

This one is for these two requests although I have slightly changed it, I might have forgotten what the original request was, but I hope you enjoy!

Requests: "Can we have some angst/hurt with Barcelona girls or lionesses?"

"Hopping in on the request because you are the best 🤩🤩🤩🤩 Would you write one where the girls wrongfully got the message that Y/N would move to Lyon or worse Real Madrid and the team gives her the cold shoulder and very angry training sessions, Y/N notices after a few days and every attempt of dialogue fails. Having enough Y/N lets all her frustration out when no one expected it, lots of tears and anger and most importantly disappointment. She disappears for hours and it's freezing cold and the girls in the meantime found it was a lie to jeopardize the time. They’re all frantically searching for her and trying to call, she comes to training the next morning, none of the girls sleeps, soaked in rain and not able to talk to her cold temperature and shivering.  She catches a intense flu and the team has absolutely never felt worse"

Word count: 1,9k

The final whistle of the match is blown and you excitedly run towards Mapi before jumping on her back and the two of you join the rest of the team celebrating.

Your team had won 5-0 to Real Madrid with you assisting a goal and scoring one of your own as well.

As you glance over to the other side of the field you take in the way Misa lazily picks up her goalie gloves she had previously thrown to the ground. A frown takes over your features when you see her try to wipe her tears away, tears that obviously weren’t anywhere near stopping.

You were always one to respect your opponents especially if they were on the same national team as you, you had seen the way Misa desperately tried to get her team together in the match. She was captain and truthfully she was the only one actually playing for Real Madrid today.

You don’t wait long as you make your way towards her and gently pull the taller girl into your arms, whispering praises into her ear as you try to comfort her.

Misa was your friend on the Spanish team and you knew she’d be more disappointed in her own performance than anyone else’s.

She holds onto you as well, burying her face into your shoulder, occasionally nodding at your words and she thanks you when you tell her you need to get back to your team.

Your actions didn’t go unnoticed by the Barca girls, or the cameras and fans at that and they all watched, confused. 

No one thinks about it for too long though as you and the girls get back to the locker room and celebrate the wonderful win.

A few days after the match you notice the sudden change in air from your teammates.

You feel their eyes on you, watching your every step, yet when you’d turn around they would already be busy with something.

They also haven’t said much, at least not to you which was very unusual as usually you and most of the younger girls would be joking around, loudly laughing at each other whenever you got the chance.

Not now though.

Training has been a bit different, your training partner, Patri had switched with someone else and now you had Marta.

It’s not that you didn’t like the girl, you really did, but you were used to training with Patri and her switching up without a word left you hurt and confused.

You knew the defenders on your team could be aggressive, but what you were experiencing right now was far from how teammates would challenge each other.

Their main target seemed to be you and you only. Tackles were sent your way left and right at every drill and you were sure that someone also tripped you up on purpose when you were walking to the back of the line.

It hurt. You didn’t know why they had been avoiding you and why so suddenly. You had thought over everything you had done in the past week that could have made 22 people have it out for you, but nothing came to mind.

Team chemistry was off. It was obvious to you, to your teammates and most importantly to the coach and staff members.

Jonatan had also taken notice of how you seemed to always end up on the ground in drills that on any other day you could have done in your sleep.

It isn’t until you’re clutching your ankle, laying on the turf as you try to breathe through the pain, that he actually intervenes.

As a medic makes his way over to you, Jonatan calls your name from not too far at the sidelines.

“Y/L/N, I want you in my office after practice!”

Your ankle had been fine after checking it out but you did have a small limp as you walked into the coach’s office, ready to talk with him.

As you take a seat in front of Jonatan, he doesn’t waste time as he gets right into it.

“Y/N I’ve noticed how the team isn’t connecting and I know you have too. As captain, and especially now since Alexia isn’t here, I need you to figure out what happened.

Whatever it is, you need to fix it, talk to them. We can’t go into a match like this.” you nod at his words and as you get excused, you immediately walk to the changing room where you knew the rest of the girls would be.

For the first time in a week they acknowledge your presence as you walk in and instantly take notice of the hard look on your face.

You looked mad, something that scared them since you rarely showed this side of you to them. The girls in the room freeze in their movements as they look up at you, silence overtaking the room and they watch as you slightly limp towards your bag.

Shoving your shin guards into it you also turn towards them. Your voice is cold and eerily emotionless as you start to speak.

“I have no idea what happened or if I’ve done something but it’s clearly affecting our performance as a team and I won’t have that. I’m telling you this as your captain, if you don’t get yourselves together and communicate what you’re feeling then I’ll gladly sit you out on our next game.

As captain it is my job to take care of the players but I can not do that if you guys ignore my existence. This is unacceptable and I don’t think I deserve this!”

The last part is spoken harshly and some of the girls visibly shiver at your tone.

Looking around the changing room most of your teammates’ heads are lowered, a guilty look on their faces, but Mapi, Patri and Mariona glare at you, a look you can only give back to them.

You leave the room at the silence you receive and make your way to one of the other offices.

Back in the changing-room Irene takes the team's silence as her chance to speak up, she had been one of the few who hadn’t totally ignored your presence after the ElClásico.

The barca team finds themselves in Jonatan’s office less than fifteen minutes after you’ve left and Jonatan looks at them panicked as he’s bombarded with questions.

“What? Repeat that question?” he asks as utter confusion and surprise is written all over his face.

“Has Y/N already signed with Real Madrid?” Aitana questions again, this time saying it slower, but the coach only stares at the group of football players standing in front of him.

They shuffle uncomfortably under the man’s gaze before he talks.

“Now where the hell did you hear that from?” it’s now the team’s turn to stare at him now as they take in what he’s saying.

“So wait, Y/N isn’t transferring to Real?” Patri is the one who voices her thoughts first.

“No, no of course not!” Jonatan laughs at the idea of you ever wearing the Real Madrid badge over your heart, you had made your distaste towards the club clear to him.

“But everyone keeps talking about it!” 

“Who’s everyone? Girls, don’t tell me you got this information from the internet, you didn’t believe another rumor now, did you?” the coach looks at them expectantly before sighing at their guilty faces and he rubs at his face for a second.

“It was only because of the whole Lyon thing from last time, people kept saying she’d transfer to them and well, yeah, we believed another rumor.” Pina admits, her voice growing quieter by the end.

“But we also discussed last time that it was only because she signed the contract extension with Barca late, right?” they nod at his words.

“Look, I understand that you misunderstood the situation and I now also know why you guys haven’t been doing too well in training, but this is very immature of you all.

No one is transferring anywhere unless your captain or I say so. And the way you’ve handled this is disappointing, Y/N is your teammate, she’s family and family shouldn't be treated like this.”

As he lectures the girls, they all nod along, admitting they’ve been wrong and that they’d like to fix it.

“Y/N is in another meeting right now, but I suggest you talk with her first thing tomorrow at training.”

When the team walks into the training center the next day they take notice of your bag already sitting in your cubby, or rather still sitting there.

Training soon starts and as they try to get a look at you they see the dark circles under your eyes and your somewhat puffy cheeks. You looked exhausted and you were barely halfway through training. 

A sloppy move from Lucy results in you sitting on the turf as you try to catch your breath and she is instantly standing in front of you, helping you up and apologizing.

You dismiss her and start towards the beginning of the drill when you stumble slightly. The brunette is there to catch you when your body decides to give up and you pass out.

The team runs over worriedly as the medics make space to get you off the field. They watch as you’re carried into the medical room before having to resume practice.

Thirty minutes later they’re all crowded in the unusually spacious medical room and Claudia takes a hold of your hand when she sees the state you’re in.

You have cooling rags placed all over your body and you look exhausted as you breathe slowly. The medic fills them in on the diagnosis, telling them that you’ve got a fever and have also overworked your body.

When some of the girls look at her weird she goes into detail.

“Y/N stays the night at the facility sometimes to get in extra training or work on something. Security has gotten used to her being here at this point and let her have the pitch to herself for the night.

Unfortunately Y/N over here has forgotten that temperatures have dropped during the night and she’s caught a cold now.” she tells them with an amused chuckle and the team looks at you sadly.

Mapi walks over, gently running her finger through your hair and she smiles when you lean into her touch slightly.

A sneeze breaks the team out of their trance and you reach for a tissue as you blow out your nose.

The room is immediately in chaos as everyone tries to apologize for their behavior and you smile up at them gently when both Pina and Mapi explain the situation.

As they calm down a bit they make a show of apologizing to you one by one before promising that they wouldn’t believe another rumor unless you’d tell them yourself.

You’re taken care of by your teammates for the next week until you get better and they shower you in love and small acts of kindness, still feeling incredibly bad for how they’ve treated you.

You soak up the love you’ve missed out on, but you still couldn’t have asked to be part of a better family.

Barcelona was your home and you wouldn’t trade it for any other team.

[shiftingparadise]

Hello, may i please request a Captain Levi x Wife!Reader who's actually a noble - she's outspoken, intelligent and sly and somewhat flirtatious, loyal, kind-hearted and caring.

Their marriage has been a love match, cause it started in a liasion meeting which cause the reader to be pregnant with their child; and so they were wed.

You can do what you want to do for this plot hehe ^^

Thank you

Aaaa I loved this request. I'm not sure if you wanted some ✨ smut ✨ or not, so I made a tiny part that's only suggestive. I hope you're okay with this. Otherwise, you can skip the part after the first '---'.

Thank you for your request, I really hope you like it 🤍✨

Warnings: as I mentioned above, a small part is suggestive, but you can easily skip this (it's after the first '---').

Word count: 2333

‘Careful’, a steady hand grabbed your arm. ‘H-huh?’, a stunned expression on your face. ‘You’ll ruin your dress’, a dark-haired man nodded towards a puddle. 

Handsome. You’ve never seen anyone more handsome than the stranger who just prevented you from ruining your new dress. 

‘Thank you’, you straightened your back, a hand on your purse, ‘It seems you saved me the trouble of buying a new dress. Drinks are on me’. 

‘Not necessary’, the man coldly replied, an annoyed expression on his face. ‘Oh, I insist’, you politely bowed your head, ‘If your wife doesn’t mind, of course’. 

He wasn’t wearing a ring. You already noticed. A man his age was supposed to wear a ring if he was taken. 

‘Tsk’, he clicked his tongue, ‘I said no’. 

‘H-hey! Wait’, you grabbed his arm, preventing him from walking away. 

He wasn’t getting away from you this easily. 

‘What?’, his brows drew together at your unexpected touch, ‘I don’t have time for this’.

Finally, someone who didn’t beg for your attention. A challenge you loved and hated at the same time. 

‘I’m sorry sir’, you put on your most innocent expression, ‘But could you walk me home? You see, I have the feeling someone’s following me and-‘. 

‘Aren’t you here with someone? A woman like you shouldn’t be out this late by herself’. 

Right, a woman shouldn’t, but you weren’t an ordinary woman. Any man, or woman for that matter, knew what the consequences were if anyone was ever caught hurting you. You couldn’t help but feel some kind of relief that the handsome stranger didn’t know who you were. 

‘I’m sorry’, you lowered your head to the ground, hands fiddling with each other, ‘I hope it isn’t too much trouble-‘. 

‘Fine’, a cold and short reply, but he held out his arm, nonetheless. Like a gentleman should. 

You gently wrapped your arm around his, walking as close as possible to him. His scent greeted your nose like a warm fire on a cold winter day. Everything about him was perfect. His manners, his stoic appearance, his tired eyes… And well, the fact that he didn’t seem interested in you made him all the more interesting. 

‘Oh’, you smiled, ‘I didn’t know we’d walk past here… What do you say, just one drink? It’s my favorite bar-‘

‘Bar? You go to bars?’, he paused, holding you back from pulling him inside. 

Right. A girl in an expensive dress like you wasn’t supposed to go to bars or feel safe in them anyway. 

‘Fine, you got me’, you smirked, ‘I don’t need your protection, but I do need to thank you, so… Just one drink’, you giggled as you pulled him inside. 

He wasn’t used to this. You could see it in the way his eyes darted toward your hand as you pulled him inside. 

‘Hm, nice and cozy’, you smiled contently as you sat down, slowly removing your gloves. ‘You tricked me?’, a confused and arrogant look in his crescent-shaped eyes. ‘If you agreed to have a few drinks with me, I shouldn’t have’. 

‘Tsk’, he finally sat down, ‘I don’t drink’. ‘Well, you do tonight’, you smirked as you raised your hand, ‘I’ll have two scotches, Marta’. ‘On its way, miss’, the girl behind the bar smiled back. 

'Scotch?’, the man once again frowned. ‘What? Never seen a woman drink whiskey?’. ‘You just didn’t seem the type to-‘. 

You smirked as he stopped his sentence. He finally figured it out. You could see it in his confused look. He knew you weren’t like the other girls. The girls who’d only drank champagne and wine, if they drank at all. 

‘So’, you took a sip, enjoying the familiar, dry burn in your throat, ‘I never caught your name’. 

‘And I never caught yours’, he leaned back, his arm resting on the back of the chair. 

Finally, a challenge.

‘Y/N L/N’, you placed your elbows on the table, chin resting on your hands. 

‘Levi Ackerman’, he nonchalantly took a sip from his glass. 

‘So, Mr. Ackerman, are you in a hurry?’. 

‘No’, a painfully short answer. 

You were right. He certainly wasn’t used to this. 

‘Good, let’s order-‘, you paused as you could hear Marta’s sweet voice from across the room. 

‘P-please sir, i-it was an accident. I-I swear’, she sobbed, her eyes fixed on the ground. ‘I don’t care. You ruined my clothes’, the man - whom she obviously spilled a drink on - grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. ‘I guess you can’t pay for this, right?’. 

‘N-no’, she hastily shook her head. ‘So, how are you going to make it up to me? I bet a girl behind a bar like this has at least some experience’, a sadistic smirk on the man’s face. 

You couldn’t see past your rage. You couldn’t see that Levi was already standing up. You couldn’t hear him calling your name. You were fuming. 

‘Take your dirty hands off her’, you placed your hand on the man’s wrist, ‘If I see you in here, or even hear you’ve been in here again, I’ll make sure your execution takes place on the very day you finally find your balls and dare to come in here again’. 

Unlike Levi, the man did recognize you. 

‘My clothes-‘, the man tried to regain his dignity, but you quickly cut him off. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t make myself clear. You’re going to leave, now’. 

‘Of course, Miss L/N’, the man reluctantly lowered his head before grabbing his jacket and leaving as quickly as possible. 

‘Are you okay?’, you hastily pulled Marta’s sleeves up, eyes searching for bruises on her soft skin. 

‘T-thank you Miss-‘, ‘Y/N, it’s Y/N. How many times do I have to remind you?’, you kindly smiled as you wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

You didn’t have friends. Your status wouldn’t allow it. Everyone who was ever close to you was only in it for the perks. Being a member of one of the mightiest and most influential families sounded nicer than it was. 

‘Come here’, you pulled her in for a hug, ‘Now chin up, and back to work. Show those men around here how strong you are. Show them they can’t take advantage of you’, you whispered before pulling away. ‘Thank you, Miss, I mean Y/N’, her eyes twinkling with courage now. 

‘Asshole’, you sighed as you wanted to walk to your table. 

Gone? Did he leave? 

‘This one’s on me’, two hands placed another round of scotch on the table. Levi was impressed with you, even intrigued. Someone of your status normally wouldn’t care if something like this happened. They usually lived with their heads in the clouds, painfully unaware of how cruel life truly was to those who weren’t as privileged. 

--- 

How did he get here? He never did this. He wasn’t the kind of man to sleep with someone whom he just met, yet here he was. His naked body was welcoming yours, his hands intertwined with yours, his lips eager for the salty taste on your skin… 

‘You’re beautiful’, he unwillingly frowned, ‘I’m sorry if my hands are rough’. 

He could slap himself. Why did he say such a thing? At this moment? 

‘You never do this, do you?’, you kindly smiled, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to-‘. 

‘N-no, I want to’, he hastily responded, ‘I-I really do’. 

‘So strange’, you tightened your grip around his hands, ‘I didn’t expect you to be so sweet and caring’.  

God, he felt so insecure, so unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to be sweet, he wanted to take you until you couldn’t walk anymore, to hear you scream out his name, but he couldn’t do that. Your eyes seemed so fragile, so soft and so broken. 

‘I just want to make sure you enjoy this’, he gently bit  your shoulder, ‘Because I’m going to’. 

--- 

‘Levi?’, Hange nonchalantly knocked on his door, ‘Someone’s here to see you. A girl from the city. What was your name again? Oh right, Y/N’, a guilty smile on her face.

Y/N? What were you doing here? At headquarters? He hadn’t seen you in months. After that night, you parted ways and that was it. 

‘Come in’, he laid down his pen, ‘Not you, Hange’, he coldly looked at his friend. 

‘Fine’, she raised her hands, ‘I’ll try my best to keep the cadets away from this door, but I can’t promise anything. They almost jumped on her when she asked them where your office was’. 

‘Right’, he sighed as he pinched the space between his eyebrows, ‘She asked the cadets, that’s great’. ‘Sorry’, you nervously smiled. 

‘Doesn’t matter. Sit down, please’, he nodded towards the chair. ‘You’re still here, Hange’, Levi nodded toward the door. 

‘Ugh, fine!’, a discontent sigh as she left the room. 

‘What are you doing here?’. 

‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’, you smirked in response. 

‘I’m sorry’, his cold eyes piercing through yours, ‘I just didn’t expect to see you again’. ‘Me neither’, your smile slowly disappeared.

Something was wrong. He could see it in the way you carried yourself. You seemed tired, nervous even. 

‘Look’, you sighed, voice shaking, ‘I don’t expect you to care about what I’m going to tell you, nor do I expect you to do anything, but I thought you should know’. 

‘What?’, his heart racing. 

‘I’m pregnant’, a glossy shimmer in your eyes, ‘And I know what you’re going to say, but yes, it’s yours. You were the first person I slept with in a year. I just thought you should know’, you stood back up again. 

Where were you going? Were you just going to leave like this? You told him he was going to be a father, and you expected him to pretend this conversation never took place? 

‘Are you going to keep it?’. 

It came out cold and uninterested, but he cared. He really did. 

‘Yes’, you looked over your shoulder, ‘But as I said, I don’t expect you to help out or anything. I won’t tell anyone you’re the father’. 

‘But aren’t people going to shun you out if they find out someone of your status is pregnant without being married?’. ‘So?’, you shrugged your shoulders, ‘I don’t care about any of that. Besides, if my father finds out, he’ll probably make me marry someone before I give birth. I’m sure my status won’t be harmed’. 

‘So, you expect me to stay put and watch how a stranger raises our child?’, he pushed his chair back. 

‘What? Are you going to marry me?’, you turned around, tears streaming down your cheek. 

‘Yes’.

‘What?’, your shoulders dropped, your eyes wide open. 

‘I’ll marry you. Even if it’s just for show, even if you don’t want anything to do with me. I want to be there for-‘. 

Wait. He was going to be a father. It suddenly flooded over him like a cold shower. He was going to be a father. How? He never had one. He never grew up in a warm mansion like you did. 

‘It’s fine’, you shook your head, ‘As I said, I won’t tell anyone’. 

‘N-no, that’s not what I-‘, 

Why was the room spinning? Why did he feel a pressure on his chest? 

‘L-levi?’, you hastily grabbed his arm, ‘A-are you fine? You don’t have to worry about it really I-‘. 

He didn’t care that he only met you once. That he only spent one night exploring your body, your thoughts, your past. He didn’t mind it at all because he knew what he felt. Even if it seemed impossible. He cared for you. He didn’t hesitate, not this time. 

You froze as two hands cupped your cheeks, his lips crashing against yours. ‘I’ll marry you’, his eyes locked with yours as he pulled away, ‘And not just to save your status. I’ll marry you because ever since we slept together, I wake up every morning only to find out that I ache for your touch, for your voice, for your honey-like scent. I don’t care if this sounds strange since we only met once, but I this is how I feel. You made me addicted to your taste and honestly, I don’t care. I know you don’t feel the same, but give me a chance to show you what kind of man I am and –‘. 

‘I feel the same’, you softly replied before letting your head rest on his shoulder, ‘I really do’. 

--- 

‘No’, Levi sternly replied. ‘Yes’, you looked at your husband. ‘I said no’, he crossed his arms as to strengthen his answer. 

‘Here’, you happily smiled at Connie, ‘You can hold her’. 

‘No’, Levi hastily held his arm in front of you. 

‘I-I promise I’ll be careful, Captain. I’ve got siblings so…’, Connie saluted your husband, ‘I promise I’ll dedicate my heart to this cause and make sure I won’t drop her’. 

‘Jezus Connie’, you laughed, ‘You don’t need to take it this so serious’. 

Levi couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hide his smile when he looked at his cadet. 

‘Fine’, he quickly shifted back to his cold expression, ‘Sit down on that chair’. 

‘Loosen up, Levi’, Hange laughed, ‘They’re trained for war. They can hold a baby’.

‘Tsk’, Levi kept his cold gaze fixed on Connie as you carefully placed his whole world in the arms of a kid. 

‘Whaaa’, Connie’s eyes widened as he smiled from ear to ear, ‘She’s so tiny’. 

‘Good, now hand her back over’, Levi immediately took her back away from him. 

‘Give him some time’, you brushed through Connie’s hair, ‘He’s a bit overprotective’.

‘My turn!’ ‘O-oh, I want to go next!’, ‘And then me!’. 

‘What?’, Levi widened his eyes as he turned around, only to find his cadets neatly lined up, patiently waiting their turn. 

‘Give them a chance’, you softly placed a kiss on his cheek, ‘They’re going to be her family after all’. 

‘Right’, Levi smiled, ‘Our family’. 

[thesoftboiledegg]

Man, don't tell me this episode just threw away Morty's character development.

I mean, I realize these are probably throwaway lines, and I don't think Morty and Rick are going to literally never have a conflict ever again. Plus, other beings hated Rick--like the president--and they (presumably) still ended up back in Morty's consciousness. Morty also still has all his memories of Rick, and plenty of those are terrible. I don't think he's going to start seeing Rick as a saint now.

But still, Morty needs to continue his character development from season five. I don't want the show to reset everything and make him even more passive than he was in season one.

Although this ending is intriguing because I think Rick actually thought he did the right thing. And, I mean--Marta DID want to stay behind. Rick didn't just lock her up to make Morty more subservient to him. He's even letting the program stay running so she can live out her life instead of killing that part of Morty.

The way he studies the game at the end implies that he's conflicted about whether he made the right decision or not. No "Yeah, whatever Morty, you're doing whatever I want forever now."

I don't think Morty needs Marta that badly--she was just a tiny fraction of billions of pieces, and surely, she wasn't his only rebellious side--but I hope the show doesn't use this as an excuse to go back to the "old" dynamic because it's easier.

[omgkatinka]

Breaking and Entering

Summary: Your cat gets you into trouble with your grumpy new neighbour

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

>>> chapter 2

Masterlist

Warnings:  Mentions of death, mentions of abuse; anxiety, angst, grumpy neighbour / Also: English is not my native language and this is my first and probably last attempt at writing. I do not even know why I tried. This is eventually a result of procrastinating from learning for my exam next week. I mixed up tenses.

Also not betad.

Words: 2.127

Here you were. New Job. New city. New apartment. Again. The past years have been a hassle of starting over. 

When did your life take that turn? When your mother died? When you had to leave your grandfather to live with your father because you were underage? When instead going to study English literature like you always dreamed of your father made sure you’d get some fancy business master’s degree? Or when your ex-fiancé abused you and no one believed you because he was not just abusive but manipulative. Your life possibly finally took that turn when you ran. Head over heels. Leaving everything behind but your cat. You stopped counting the places you lived. Well rather visited for you never stayed long. Sometimes your ex would show up and you’d flee. Or you thought you had seen him in a crowd and flee. Or you were getting restless. High Functioning Flight Mode. All the damn time.

Moving days were a constant companion and those days smelled like freedom. It was just you, your SUV and your cat. The little fella would proudly ride shotgun while you sang along your old school rock playlist. Your whole life fit into a car.  

This time it is Minneapolis. Large city. Anonymous, easy to vanish. You scored a job at a major financial player. Major as in Fortune 500 major. Thankfully, you worked project based for a while now, so no one ever really questioned your constant moving all over the nation. If they ever read that far in your resume that is. Summa cum laude in combination with a Harvard degree opened most doors for you.

The furnished apartment you found was in a half decent neighbourhood for a change. It was not the smallest you’d lived in and it faced the back of the building onto a yard hosting a huge oak tree.

Settling into Minneapolis was easier than it should have been. Your new co-workers were friendly. Too friendly. Not one lunch break you would get to spend on your own. Especially Marta from accounting was keen to talk to you. She was lovely. It was not her fault you never made friends. Because you never stayed. But still, that insistent woman and a couple of more people gave you a sense of familiarity you would never have expected from a huge company like that.

Most of the new neighbours greeted friendly too. Most, apart from one. When you were unloading your car, he stood right in your way, a bear of a man, shooting you a death glare. Mumbling something about not being allowed to park here and stomping off. You did not pay attention to his word, being intimidated by his sheer size. A broad beast, grumpy at that. You made a mental note to avoid him. Great plan.

Here ‘s the thing with your plans: they tend to simply not work. Three weeks after starting over, you come home to for once not being greeted by Jack. Your cat Jack. Named after an infamous pirate because of his funny face and weird way to walk. Not being greeted by Jack stirred panic. He was old but almost never failed to wait at the door for you. He did not today. Searching the whole place for him you came up empty. When you realised, you had left the bedroom window open in the morning you started to hyperventilate. He liked to sit outside on the fire escape while you got ready in the mornings. Looking outside he is not there either. By now you were freaking out, running downstairs, calling for Jack. Climbing up the roof. Nothing. By now you were crying. Starting to search the apartment one more time. And then once more. At some point you cried yourself to sleep until you are woken up by frantic knocking at your door. While still trying to figure out where you’re at, you glimpse the clock. It says 2 a.m.. Great. And what is this noise? Right. Knocking. On the door. Furious by now.

Opening your door, you find your grumpy neighbour. Even more grumpy. Scowling. „Is this thing yours? “ he asks, lifting Jack into your line of vision.

 As relieved as you were to have your cat back. That was when things got out of hand. Thanks to that scare you frantically double checked every window every day before leaving for work. All is good for five days. When you get home on the sixth though – Jack is gone. Again. And the window you double checked the very same morning is open. You panic. Torn between hoping Jack broke into your grumpy neighbours’ place again hence being safe and him sitting on the roof calling out pigeons. You check the yard, the roof. No Jack. Hesitantly you knock at Mr. Grumpy’s door. No answer. Going onto midnight you hear the elevator and spy onto the floor. There he is. You brace yourself and head out. Looking apologetic. „um Hi, I am so sorry, but my cat escaped again. Would you mind checking if he did break into your place again? “. He does not answer. Unless grunts count as answers. He just raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head in direction of his door. You avoid breathing and follow him into his apartment. Where you find your cat sits lounging on the couch like he owns the place. You cannot help but snort. That is what you get naming the little fella after a pirate. Breaking and entering seems to be his thing. It takes you a moment to realise Mr. Grumpy is staring at you, so you take a deep breath, apologize again and introduce yourself. „You really need to close your windows, you know? Not just from keeping that thing in your place but also to keep others out.“. Telling him, you double checked your windows just earns you a headshake. And there is that critical eyebrow again. Great. Then it dawns on you „if your so adamant on checking windows, how do you think Jack got in here? “. Now he looks puzzled. „Who is Jack? “ he asks and you fight hard to not snort again. “The cat, obviously” you answer. That earns you another grunt. ‘Great at communication that specimen’ you think and grab your cat. “Uhm, I am so sorry he, uhm…, we invaded your place again. So so sorry. Thanks for your patience. Good night, Mister?” “Marshall”. And that is the last thing he says. “Well good night Mister Marshall”. At that you hold on to your furry, purring companion and head back into your apartment. From now it will be triple checking the windows it seems.

Three times within the next you need to get your cat from his new favourite hideaway during the next week. The only new thing is Mr Grumpy telling you “it’s just Marshall”. Everything else is the same. Like being trapped in a fucking time lapse. Him scowling, telling you to “fucking check your windows” and giving you that critical eyebrow of doom. Each time though, you start to notice things. About his place. About him. He seems to live out of boxes. His shelves are empty. The only cosy thing seems to be the fluffy blanket Jack made his favourite place on the black leather couch. Also, he wears a gun. And a batch. You despise guns but guess this one comes with the job. And his accent is foreign. No, not foreign, it is English. A bit like a lost, grumpy Mr. Darcy. WHAT? Mr. Darcy? You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you finally going insane? Now take your cat and get out of here!

How do you reason with a cat? You surely tried but the next time you have not even noticed Jack vanishing. It’s a Saturday and you were just filling your coffee cup when there is knocking on your door again. You open the door to a sleepy looking Marshall, holding Jack. Shrugging. Something is different. Taking your cat out of his huge hands you are about to apologize again, when he beats you to speaking “did you just make coffee?”. You nod and he steps into your apartment. “Well, come in, why don’t you?” you mutter and find him standing in front of your kitchen island, scratching his head, looking kind of lost. With huge eyes and a suddenly small voice he says “sorry for barging in like that, your little fella here woke me up. Pretty sassy for such a small guy. Would you mind sharing a cup of coffee? I forgot to go grocery shopping and seem to run out of everything.”. For a moment you stare at him, stunned from the number of words he just threw at you and the lack of grunts.  When you remember how to use your words, you tell him to take a seat, grab a cup and ask him how he prefers his coffee. Fixing both your cups and setting them on the table you finally get to apologize again for your little intruder, constantly breaking into his place. Marshall just shrugs at that and admits, that he has no idea how Jack opens the windows. He himself started to double and triple check his windows and it should not even be possible to open them from the outside. It is that moment you realise what is different. He looks sleepy but barely as tired as before and more important. He’s not grumpy. That’s new. And you do not know how to handle that. After silently drinking his coffee, he thanks you for the coffee and crouches down to pet Jack and tells him something that sounds like ‘see you mate’, then tells you goodbye and takes his leave.

It is the next Friday that you come home to a post-it on your door with “Jack is visiting” scribbled on it. Somehow you remember your cat not being overly fond with men, but he seems to have a soft spot for this one. Or his couch. Taking a deep breath, you turn and move over to knock at the next door. Heavy relaxed footsteps near and Marshall opens the door widely, motioning for you to come in. “We were just about to choose a movie and call for pizza. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and join us?”. You look at the man as if he did just grow two more heads. Raising his eyebrow at you he adds “maybe choose pizza before you head over, so I can order already”. Shaking off the initial shock, you apologize. Before you can actually try to take a leave, he sternly asks “did you have dinner?”. When you shake your head, he repeats “come on, it’s just pizza and a movie. And maybe we should use the opportunity to discuss a shared custody arrangement for Jack.”. At that your stomach rumbles and when you see the glint in Marshalls eyes, you know this is a battle not worth fighting. And you are hungry. You tell him your pizza order and head over to shower and get changed. You wonder how you are not nervous about this. Since things went south with your ex you could hardly stand to be alone with one man. Let alone spend the evening at his place for dinner and movie.

Back at Marshalls place he offers you a bottle of water and his cosy looking armchair. While himself settling beside Jack on the couch. He suggests watching pirates of the Caribbean and you accept, telling him that you actually named the cat after Jack Sparrow to which he counters “It’s captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.”. The evening proceeds with you watching the movie, laughing and having pizza. You are taken aback to realise he actually ordered some extra tuna for Jack. From time to time, you catch yourself watching Marshall instead of the movie. He seems so much younger when relaxed. And handsome. How did you not realise what a beautiful face hides behind those curls and that beard?

After the movie you grab your snoring cat and thank Marshall for the evening when he pushes something cold into your free hand. You need a moment to realise, that he just handed you a key and give him a puzzled look. “I told you we’ll need a shared custody agreement, considering this little one keeps breaking and entering and claiming this apartment. I often work long hours and when shit hits the fan even spend the nights at the office. You might need it to retrieve the lodger.”. With that he winks - well tries to and fails – and opens the door for you, telling you goodnight.

[gallpall]

canaan bubble redux as a womb for story/character arcs

I’m sure most of this has been posted about before but: ever since my initial read I’ve been obsessed with the gross bodily/gorey stuff in the Canaan redux and I wanted to organize some of my constant+chaotic thoughts!!

TM has said that a lot of the motifs/events in the bubbles are actually “Silent Hill stand-ins” for story elements and she hopes we pick up on stuff, so here’s my Attempt!

At the same time that Harrow’s mind is being made a tomb for Gideon Nav Wake’s subconscious is pulled in to act as a womb for certain plot elements right alongside it. The chronology/time period of HtN mimics a full nine-month gestation. There’s a lot of very literal imagery here (which is below the cut), but I also think we’re meant to see it as metaphorical: we’re able to glean some things about character arcs based on how everything in the bubble goes down.

I’m particularly interested right now in those ‘side’ characters in the bubble who aren’t actually dead, who barely appear in the bubble at all except to get summarily offed, all in very distinctive ways. Judith, Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth.

(cw below cut for some pregnancy/insemination imagery, canonical body horror and gruesome bubble deaths rehashed)

First of all just some quotes showing some of the imagery that I’ve attributed to being Wake manifesting pregnancy trauma stuff (there’s possibly some of Harrow’s conception trauma here, too) seeping through, for the purposes of this line of speculation. 

This isn’t nearly all of it, but some things that stood out to me as possibly comparing Canaan House 2.0 to a functioning reproductive system:

(ch. 21) a “collection of large, rusted pipette needles” -- turkey basters?

(ch. 35) “great, slithering, pulsing tubes” which contain “whitish-pearl bubbled globules”-- this perhaps recalls ovaries/fallopian tubes, with the ‘globules’ being follicles produced by superovulation for insemination, or corpus luteum that supply progesterone to maintain a pregnancy.

(ch. 45) “stretched webs of organ [...] like nets of sticky venous spiderweb” --uterine walls, maybe; it’s all over the windows, totally encasing them in Canaan’s rooms, and arguably even contracting like a uterus would: “every so often they would tremble uncertainly and erupt in floods of bloody, foamy water.”

in the next pgh we get some more of the tools Wake would have used to conceive/upkeep the pregnancy: “pipettes, broken glass-fronted containers filled with dark fluid,” skeletons sitting atop piles of “capsules or pills” perhaps hormones/supplements. (also holding Drearburh tools, the way Wake’s skelly would have been doomed to do)

(ch. 43) “from that hole emerged a clattering pile of plex scope slides, the type you would preserve a cell sample between“ -- Wake would’ve had to carry out the IVF process for implantation, this also seems like apparatus for that

(ch. 47) there’s the “libation” Abigail uses to summon Wake which is... well. It’s a “thin, milky, whitish liquid pooled at the base, sluggish in the cold,” and the summoning involves a bunch of ‘come’ commands, which I think might be Muir making a very elaborate jizz-adjacent “silly buggers with the emissions” joke. 

Just a note, cause I’m hopeless about Pyrrwake: the Seconds’ quarters are almost completely preserved from the leaky body horror (though it’s still cold in there)--as if they represented a sanctuary in Wake’s subconscious. There are also letters in the nonagonal coffin room which spell out an anagram of “PYRRHA” (ch. 47).

So with all that in mind, I’d posit that the fake-ghost deaths are all metaphorical “rebirths” of various characters arcs for ATN. I haven’t delved into what this imagery might mean for Harrow or Gideon specifically because I know there’s a LOT and it’s probably above my theoretical paygrade (I would love for someone to tack on with that though!!) but I can talk about ‘side’ chars on a very big-picture level.

Judith’s simulacrum gets knocked off first (ch. 18); shot through the heart (both atria) while she and Marta’s ghost are trying to complete the winnowing trial. The Sleeper shoots her 7 more times after that, I guess partly just ‘cause she can, but Ortus notes that it seems like there was an element of "Anger” to it. It’s possible Wake wasn’t pleased to have someone messing around with Pyrrha’s lyctoral trial, infuriated that anyone would be attempting to replicate G1d/Pyr’s original downfall. She then ignores Marta entirely and climbs back in the coffin (now with the sword) once Judith’s out of the way.

[Marta’s] scarlet necktie looked redder too—by the time they’d gotten hold of Judith Deuteros the blood had dried hers nearly black.

Cohort red-and-whites being stained black with blood, like a certain high-collared BOE uniform... could be another little clue to Judith’s "heart” for the Emperor (and for Marta, and pretty much everything else she knew) being lost and her realigning--though not willingly, at least at first--with the other side.

Cam and Pal’s simulacrums are plainly executed (ch. 21), they have their “faces obliterated” each by a single gunshot, and it’s as if they just stood there and let it happen. In the bubble, “Harrow had never seen Sextus or Hect except from afar.” These simulacrums totally avoid having their features revealed to Harrow. I’m willing to bet their faces being obscured and then exploded is one of the clues we get to their eyes being swapped around the next time we see them in the epilogue and in ATN.

Regarding the twins: They are essentially non-extant in the bubble. Ianthe never appears because she’s still kicking and, in her own words, “doesn’t live alternate histories” (GtN ch. 15).

Coronabeth’s simulacrum scene (ch. 37) is SO vivid and cryptic. It fascinates me because it definitely is, in part, trying to tell us something poignant about the initiation of Corona’s “worse twin” arc in ATN.

[Corona] was turned away from Harrow, and her riot of hair—half-caught in a fillet, half-escaping—was soaking wet, a dark and crinkling amber in the rain. She was not fighting or arguing. She was still as a statue, and ready and waiting as a dog.

Sounds like the fake ghost preparing for that major shift in allegiance. Silas is the one to ‘dismiss’ her, with his “may the blood of your blood suffer,” which perhaps is a really Templar-y way of saying ‘now go wreck ianthe’s SHIT.’ When Harrow accuses him of sending Corona to her death, Silas asks “Death?”--as if he sees that what’s really just happened, at least metaphorically, is (re)Birth.

[Harrow] thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

Sounds a bit like amniotic fluid/water breaking? Coronabeth doesn’t ever seem to hit the ocean (bodies of water=necromancy and that’s not her deal), she instead just kinda poofs, and Silas says she would have ended up “on her feet.” Coronabeth is ditching her family ties and is out for blood, and I think her charisma, willpower, and sheer desire for revenge will move her a long way in the ranks of Eden--probably even to the point of echoing Commander Wake’s ambitions and actions. I could delve into that damn portrait mirroring Ianthe’s obsession w/ Cyrus’ paintings on the Mithraeum... but that is a whole other post!

So all of these are fairly baseline observations and I think there’s a LOT more to be expounded on, if y’all wanna reply/reblog/DM with additions I would freaking love that, every time I open a page of this book I find something I missed before and it’s such a delight. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!