#also i like thinking about how he thinks in late troy years like imagine how fuckin bored he is

[rowanisawriter]

wip wednesday (finally)

i found a snippet i can share without forty pages of accompanying context because of how obscure the AUs that haunt me are lol here is achilles being sad in troy from an upcoming chapter of glass slipper

.

He isn’t entirely sure how long they’ve been here, fighting and waiting for fighting. Sometimes it feels like he was born here on the sand, listening to the familiar crash of wave after wave on the shore. Here, the sounds of the water mix with the always chattering, running, cleaning, clamoring, drinking, laughing, crying soldiers in the camp. He can’t pull apart the sound of the waves from the sounds of the soldiers. Dimly, he knows Phthia’s waters sound the same, but the way the camp’s ambient noise has woven in with the ocean’s makes him feel as though he’s on an alien planet, that this isn’t a real ocean, that these aren’t real people.

[transparentlyfallingasleep]

7. How do you choose which POV to write from? (Especially for starbucks)

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

aw wow! People never ask me questions on here.

let’s see number 7. Honestly I tried to come up with a better answer than this but it’s just the vibe of the thing. The first story was really just a response to “Clint Barton shows up 15 minutes late with Starbucks” insert Troy with the pizza meme that was out in the ether post his absence in Winter Soldier. I decided to try making myself write from Natasha’s perspective after the Clint heaviness in marketplace etc but in the Starbucks sequel I just wanted to imagine/ write down the Robert Downey jr voice in my head reacting to spy kid 3D. And then they all joined in. Clint’s voice is my most comfortable place to be Natasha, Cap, Maria, Jarvis the least but I think that’s because being that fucking competent seems heptapod level alien.

25: I wish people read unfinished business more… it was my first story in the marvel space and my second fanfic ever. And I still kinda like imagining it’s running in the background of the avengers… and it could have too if not for that pesky Joss Whedon. I also I’m proud of my Game of thrones fic. It was an attempt to self sooth and I think it turned out rather well all things considered.

26. I’m not sure I do wild rides I’m definitely not much of a plot writer. I tend to focus on small intimate character moments. Probably because I suck even more at the other stuff, possibly because being a speech pathologist I’m better at getting voices of characters ‘right’ than I am at making things happen. But I am proud at how I salvaged age of ultron for the rewriting in Market Place and how much I was able to reuse, reduce, recycle might be surprising to readers.

39. So my clinic shut down suddenly in September. If you are Australian I will just say this about it. The NDIS and in particular the Government have been making it harder and harder to work as a paediatric disability clinician and hell bent on telling our clients that it’s because we are rorting the system. I didn’t want my clients to loose their therapeutic alliance and a speechie that has known them most of their lives so I started my own sole trading. It’s long hours, crazy stress and I don’t even know if I will be able to afford the audit come 2025 but for now my kiddos are safe and getting therapy. All the govt has managed to do is privatise the old block grant system and lie about choice and control and that’s all I have to say about that. As a result I’ve got no real WIPs but I have this… you can see that I write dialogue first.

If you’ve come to tell me I’ve besmirched my honour, that the castle is in an uproar… I care not. 

Your grace. 

Ser Davos I am no princess. 

The laws of the realm say

So Tyrion Lannister crowns my brother and frees the north for my sister and now I am smothered by titles? I knew I should have killed that-

Id never really thought about it like that Milady. Allow an old man a small courtesy? I accepted my title for services to Stannis Baratheon. Plenty of times I thought better of it but I did it for those who came after me. Lord Gendry well he doesn’t say, quiet sort that he is -

Surly 

As you say, but i think I’m right in saying he had similar thoughts. I don’t think either of us thought that there might be others on the other side of it. Born to the titles and the power and wanting none of it, wanting to be rid of it. 

He is a good lad lady Arya. Give him longer. He can’t stay this angry for long. 

I can’t stay ser Davos

Forgive me but I’ve lived longer on decking than I have on dry land or had till your brother made me hand. The tides they come again. Like circles they are. Why not tarry even if he’s determined to make himself unpleasant. 

He doesn’t have to put effort into that. He’s had it mastered for years. You are married Ser, children? 

Aye My Lady

[caliburn-the-sword]

cress commentary (hehe i love alliteration)

i love how you can tell how far into a book i am by how dense?? my commentary is in terms of like how many comments i'm making over a given number of chapters. because when i'm first starting a book i'm good to interrupt my reading to taking a note down but once the stakes and tension start hitting i'll only note something down if it's significant enough

"She would have kept walking all day if he had asked it of her" jesus christ cress sounds like she's been glamoured LMAO

CRYING SHAKING THROWING UP CINDER DIDN'T MENTION CRESS TO ERLAND - but now that i know how common a name crescent is it's likely he wouldn't even think twice about it

cinder and erland's relationship honestly reminds me of the relationship between buffy and giles. a teenage "chosen one" so to speak, who has the weight of the world on their shoulders and copes being sassy, and her long suffering but equally sassy mentor figure. i think that's why i love it so much

SAHARA. THAT'S WHERE CRESS AND THORNE MAYBE ARE. THEY'RE GONNA FIND EACH OTHER

i really like the townspeople of farafrah

OMG AND NOW KAI THINKS SCARLET IS THE LUNAR PRINCESS. dramatic irony my beloved. i mean kai is right that cinder has found the lunar princess,,, just wrong about WHO it is LMAO

YES THORNE HAS REJECTED HER. god she's freaking out

cress' reaction to seeing the goat <3 she's got such a distinct character voice. also she's super delulu and i love her

i remember questioning on a previous post how everyone talked to everyone else. universal language explains it. praying it's not english

thank goodness cress and thorne found someone. hopefully no one recognised him

jail for a thousand years DO NOT hit me with the one bed trope with CRESS AND THORNE OF ALL PEOPLE (note: i've never been more glad to see a character kidnapped and to NOT see the one bed trope happen)

back to being grossed out by thorne again. i don't like him. idc if he can't see, it's about PRIVACY and BOUNDARIES. he should not be entering a bathroom where an underage girl is showering, with or without consent. it's gross

omg is thorne buying the escort droid for iko

jacin is kind of a dick ngl. sometimes his humour is funny and other times he's like a 12 year old boy that thinks dark humour is like making jokes about war. like bro people are DYING. you don't have to give a shit about cinder but at least don't make fun of her friend that's been kidnapped by the queen

losing my mind that erland and cress have met

help has cress just stumbled across wolf?? this is hilarious NAUR JACIN HAS JUST COME IN OMG. THIS IS LITERALLY THE WHY IS GAMORA SCENE IN INFINITY WAR. AND NOW ERLAND AND THORNE. THIS IS CHAOS INCARNATE OMG FSKDHFSKH

EW EW EW the sex bot androids are modelled after LATE TEENS??? YIKES.

(intervention voice) come on cinder, what have i told you?? friends don't control the bioelectricity of friends

holy shit. what's happening to scarlet is literally horrifying

scarlet referencing helen of troy~

OMG PRINCESS WINTER

HOLY SHIT SCARLET'S FINGER I HATE CLIFFHANGERS I NEED HER NEXT CHAPTER IMMEDIATELY. fingers can often be reattached (or a toe in place of a finger) so HOPEFULLY that's what happens for poor scarlet if she does lose her finger

IKO FSKHFSCKFNHS SHE HAS A BODY NOW

cress is literally so paparazzi by lady gaga. and also lovefool by the cardigans. also this is home by cavetown but specifically the bridge. ocean eyes by billie eilish (even tho i imagine thorne with brown eyes lol). a few penelope scott songs but you're not allowed to make fun of me for this. god this is probably gonna end up with me making a playlist. thankfully i'm too lazy to make playlists so my ears are safe from the onslaught of random mishmashed songs that remind me of cress (that said thinking of a song when i see a character or thinking of a character when i hear a song has gotta be the highest honour i can bestow to any character)

i remember reading meyer's pronounciation guide when i first started the series and jacin's was like "jay-sin - so the real pronounciation of jason" but i'm aussie and every jason i've known has been pronounced jay-sen, so i'm respectfully ignoring that. i doubt i'm pronouncing anyone's names right anyway LMAO like i have to mentally correct myself every time i read benoit as "beh-no-it" instead of "ben-wah" (if i'm STILL incorrect i apologise to french speakers). i've also been pronouncing wolf's actual name as "zay-ev" idk how right that is

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees @shellyseashell

[princessbatears]

Hello my lovely buddy! ✨💗 How are you doing lately?

Have you watched latest TLOU yet? It’s brutal, but as the game players, we knew it all along.🫣 Troy playing as James is perfect, though we all know what happened to him at the end.🥹 Only one episode left. Tell me what you think about it. Also can’t wait to watch Mando on Wednesday.😌

P.S. I wanna share great news in my life with you! I’ve changed my job position and its grading is a level higher than my current one. So I’m kinda like promoted! 😭🙌🏻

Hello! I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to your last message, life got busy, so I'm just transferring things here for the sake of ease.

MANDALORIAN S3E1 SPOILERS

I loved the premier! It was shorter than I was expecting, but it felt like kind of a set-up/clean-up episode so that we can barrel into the action next time. We got so much cuteness and hilarity that I desperately wanted in only half an hour, so I can't complain! I love that Grogu can cuddle with Dad in the ship, it makes me feel much better about his situation. 🥰😂 And I laughed very hard when he squeezed the little mechanics and Din is just like 🙈 I want to know how Din got into that little shop, as well. I'm so curious where the season is going with the Darksaber and Mandalore!! Tomorrow is a new episode and I can't wait!

THE LAST OF US EPISODE 7&8 SPOILERS

Episode 7 was so sweet and so sad. I loved Ellie and Riley together and the way the ended hurt. I can't imagine the guilt Ellie must have felt when Riley turned and died and she didn't. Poor thing. 😭

Oh my goodness, episode 8 was so dang intense! The way they made David even more evil and creepy put my hairs on end. But Ellie bested him in the best way possible. And Joel came at just the right moment to comfort her. It definitely did things to me the way he was finally able to call her "baby girl" after 20 years of not being able to say that. 😭❤️ I'm not prepared for the finale. I'm really going to miss the show and am thankful we've got Mando to help ease the pain.

AHHH congrats on your promotion, that's so exciting!!! You deserve it! I hope it comes with some great new challenges! Thank you for sharing that with me, I smiled so big when I read that!

Sending you soooo much love! I can't wait to hear what you think of our episodes this week 😍

[pianostarinwonderland]

You guys have no idea how much Azul’s new SSR means to me.

There are things I’m going to be losing from this. Obviously, I’m going to see my gem and key count dwindle because I have no idea if I’m going to be lucky tomorrow. I have exams next week, and this event is going to really affect my concentration horribly. I really can’t afford to not get low scores on these exams since my grades are horrible.

But this card… It’s everything that I’ve been dreaming of for the past two years.

I’ve gone through two whole years of eating crumbs, and maybe that sounds entitled since Azul got his story and SSR really early on. But it’s because his story was concluded really early on that afterwards, I don’t get to hear much from him. I really only look forward to February, I have to seek food about him from other characters (especially from Jade and Floyd), I have to feed myself every day with my own thoughts. Some days, I’ve considered on looking for new fandoms to join because I’ve gotten bored of even myself. But I still stay because of two things: (1) I have friends who still love this game very much, and (2) Azul means so much to me that it’s enough of a reason to stay.

And now, here we have him. A beautiful SSR in the most gorgeous outfit. There are so many things I want to say about this card because it is every single fantasy in my head coming to life.

Like, the setting? I once had a Honeymoon Un Deux Trois phase back in 2020-early 2021. There was something about dancing a waltz with Azul that really made me feel so giddy for months. I would always imagine us under the moonlight, on stone streets and bridges with lamps on, and dancing to that song. I never cared if it was graceful or not, because it was a dance with Azul.

Babes, besties, and bitches, the setting of that card art is exactly the setting of that imagination. Even the lights of those buildings are the same. It’s like Yana read my mind and put it on a digital canvas. The only thing different is the gate behind Azul, but otherwise, it’s everything that I’ve seen in my dreams.

Then Azul’s outfit! I’ve long entertained the idea of Azul in a masquerade outfit since last year. It was so appealing because he hides behind a mask all the time to seem more pleasing to others. It pushed me to plan out and write a (work in progress) fic where Azul is a masked pianist. He’d be decked in black and purple, mostly purple. He’d have a hat with a feather, and he’d be wearing a mask with that same shape you see on the card.

You know in fact, I always imagined since late last year that the next Abema stream was going to be me seeing Azul getting a masquerade SSR. And then I would be screaming.

And 😭 I got it. I got the masquerade card, and his outfit has similarities to what I envisioned for him. I now also know that his hat is called a tricone, and that is really awesome to know.

And to top it all off? His tailcoat. I always loved tailcoats even as a kid. There was something about how simple it is yet the way it billows in the breeze as it trails behind you creates a certain aura about you. It looks classy and almost authoritative. It catches your attention.

And guess what? Azul Ashengrotto comes in with at least 6 tail ends on his tailcoat.🧍This mcfucking octopus.

Anyway, I’m just… I am just so happy right now. 😭 Sundays have recently been my worst day of the week for certain reasons, but I had such a great day today because of Azul.

The gacha is coming tomorrow, which is really exciting but also anxiety inducing xD! I really want to stream for everyone, but I don’t think I can :( I think my stream would end up lagging horribly. But I’ll definitely share what happens here.

This post is really different from how I’d usually scream about Azul. I’ll admit, much of my energy is gone because I have melted down in a vc with friends xD but mainly, I just feel so tender about this card. It’s two years of my dreams put on a screen for the world to see. It’s two years of all the times I thought about him, talked about him, wrote about him, bringing me to a time when I can actually for the first time freak out about his event SSR when I could not do that for Beans Day. It’s two years of loving him, and now I’m here. 🥲 And I’m so thankful and happy right now.

[thenanbakacorner]

Okay, the parent headcanons for cell 13 was adorable, how about we get some for Honey and Trois, too? :D

Sure thing!! ôヮô

Also, side note announcement, I hope everyone has been having a good Holiday Season, whether you celebrate Hanukkah, Yule, Christmas, etc! Can't believe its already Christmas Eve and that 2021 is just a week away from ending ⊙.☉ This year felt so long but so fast at the same time

* * *

🎯 Honey 🎯

From the start, he was fond of the idea of having a family with you. At least two or three kids, any gender.

He's the one to bring up starting a family first. If you tell him that you aren't ready yet, he's willing to wait. But just be ready for him to be pestering you, asking if you're ready yet every other one to two months

He's already very protective of you, so just imagine how protective he is during your pregnancy!

If Honey doesn't trust someone enough with your and your bump, he won't let them get anywhere near you

"And who said you can touch her?! Back off!" *Flips them off*

He even gets iffy letting friends or family touch your belly

Honey, it's not like the bump's gonna burst at the tiniest touch--

Come the day the baby is born, they've got him wrapped around their tiny little finger right at first sight.

"Oh, look at how beautiful you are.. such a darling little one.."

One of his least favorite things about parenthood? Those late night feedings and sleepless nights.

You'll probably be the one taking care of the baby most of those nights cause he's so stubborn on getting up to do it himself

Bonds with the baby in the cutest playful ways. As soon as he knows what things make the baby laugh, he'll use them constantly till they finally get old.

He just loves making them laugh, he thinks that squeaky baby laugh is the cutest thing ever

Again, protective dad™️

When they're still a baby he's constantly watching them when nearby to make sure they don't hurt themself on accident, and like when you were still pregnant, is reluctant to let anyone other than you and him get close to, touch, or hold the baby

On that note he is strict with rules, mainly those that ensure the kid's safety

But when they get older and more independent he gets a LOT more protective.

For the longest time he doesn't let them go anywhere alone, even if they're old enough. Makes them carry some form of defense once he drops that rule.

If he finds out someone hurt or bullied his little angel, you'll need to hold him back before he smacks someone up the chin or worse

If you have a daughter, he ends up being that "No boyfriends until you're 20!!" sort of dad. VERY serious about keeping boys away from his little girl until he thinks she's at an "appropriate" age.

But, as much as he is overly protective, he's just as- if not more- loving and caring.

🎱 Trois 🎱

Similarly to Honey, the idea of having kids with you was on his mind not too long into the start of your relationship. He wants at least a son, and is happy with however many kids you have.

As much as he desired to start a family, he waits for you to bring it up first. He wanted to be sure you were ready and was hesitant to ask in care you weren't.

Is very excited and agrees right away when you finally do ask him what he thinks about having a baby

Absolutely spoils you during the pregnancy

Makes sure your cravings are met, gets you gifts when he has the extra money for it (Including baby stuff), constantly compliments how cute you look with your baby bump, and- while he mainly excells in machinery- he also looks into making things like a crib, rocking chair and other furniture for the nursery.

When you're at the store buying baby articles, he's almost always the one to pick up something and just sob over how tiny or cute it is. Probably more than one time.

*Tearing up* "Oh my god, Y/N, look at how tiny these socks are!!"

Often times whenever you wake up, you'll notice Trois isn't in his usual sleeping position, but now moved down to be sleeping with your belly as a pillow, and if he's awake doing it, his hand is gently rubbing it and he's whispering or babytalking to it.

He's obsessed with your baby bump, basically. I mean, his baby is in there, can you blame him?

There's definitely tears when he finally meets and holds the baby

"T-they're.. they're absolutely perfect in every way, Y/N.. just look at them!"

Is pretty good when it comes to getting the baby to calm down and/or sleep

Sometimes it makes you wonder if- like his "seductive aura"- he might have some sort of "calming aura" that he uses on your baby. It sure seems like it!

He spends lots of time with the baby, even if he's exhausted from those common up-all-nighters. Sometimes you might find him dozed off on the couch with the baby either sleeping in his arms or grabbing at his glasses

As the baby gets older, he does his best to help teach them what he knows, and always assists them with homework.

Rules aren't too strict, but just enough so. He's more on the laid back side.

When working on machinery, your kid will be the one to hand the tools to Trois if he can't grab them himself, and Trois likes to refer to the kid as "his assistant", or "rookie", during these exchanges.

Don’t be surprised if your dear husband and child come back from the garage- or wherever Trois does his work- covered in rust, dirt or other residue. Dirty and stained clothes are a common thing with these two.

Totally wants to get your kid into the same occupation of being a mechanic, and has thought about starting a business of the type with them when they’re old enough.

Basically an entheusiastic mechanic dad who loves his kiddo dearly

[psalm22-6]

The Charivari Awards of 1862

I started translating this because there’s one joke about Les Misérables but ended up translating the whole thing because, like my fav chapter 1817, this gives a little peak into 1862.  Source: Le Charivari, 26 August 1862

The distribution of prizes has been finished for many days in all the secondary schools, and the Charivari has not yet given out its annual awards to those who merit it the most. It is but a little slip that we are hurrying to fix. In fact we are distributing those prizes today; better late than never. 

No useless speeches and let's cut to the chase! French Language Prize First prize to Victor Hugo for his masterpiece Les Misérables. A bishop (whispering to his neighbor): Well, what do you think? 2nd bishop: It’s horrible. 3rd bishop: It’s vile! Anyone could write les Misérables, but no one is capable of writing petitions like those we issued on our return from Rome.

Architecture This year we are not awarding a prize for architecture, we are waiting for the great opera house to be finished. [The foundation of the Opera Garnier had been poured that January but the experienced problems due to lots of  groundwater as Phantom of the Opera buffs will know]  M. Davioud [collaborator of Haussmann during the second empire] (to the side): Good heavens! And here I imagined taking home first prize. I am horribly vexed. What upsets me the most is that I made all my friends and acquaintances come to applaud for me. Painting First prize goes to Mlle. X…, celebrity of the underworld [I am guessing this is a reference to Mademoiselle V...by Manet but could be wrong] All the dandies: Bravo Mlle. X…bravo! Mlle. X… is not present for the call, the prize is put to the side and will be sent by a delegate. Music Honorable prize to M. Felicien David for his opera of Lalla-Roukh. [It was the hit opera of 1862 apparently] Big Box/Bass Drum [I am so confused by this one. The title is Gross Caisse if that means anything to anyone]  First prize… Here the embarrassment of the examiners was very strong. Indeed, to whom should this first prize be awarded? because forty three general stores [magasins de nouveautés, a precursor to the department store] earned it.

This rivalry proves that our generation is quite a nice force on this noisy instrument. Therefore we have decided to share this award. 

First prize goes to a general store that gave a discount of 105 fr. due to change of owner.

Second prize to a tailor who for 13 francs gives out a frock coat and a ticket to see the sea by pleasure train.

Third place goes to to Mlle B****, an actress, who sold her furniture to get people talking about her. Arithmetic First prize to numerous restauranteurs for their talent at making large additions.

Second prize to M. Z…speculator, vert adept in subtraction.

Certificate of merit to the sultan, very strong in retaining things–when it comes to paying his troupes. [any guesses who this is referring to? Is it Napoleon III? Does this have to do with the colonization of Algeria? I am really lost]  Second certificate of merit to the Americans of the north and the south who have much disposition for division. Geometry Prize of honor to Mlle Theresa, a young doe who is iron clad in that science. She knows that for a young man the shortest route to get to Clichy is to pass by her. [?] Chemistry A unique prize goes to the political writer Three-Stars who, without any preparation, knows how to make a paper turn all colors from white to blue to red. [les Trois-Etoiles was a pseudonym of English journalist Eustace Clare Grenville Murray though I don’t quite no the sandal maybe the answer could be found in here]  An assistant: In chemistry terms that is called precipitating [also means rushing], isn’t it? The neighbor: Yes The assistant: Precipitating so much could end with his breaking his neck. The neighbor: That’s his problem. Why is he ambitious and desiring to win first prize? Perseverance Prize of honor to Russia. Never has a nation better persisted in refusing all the concessions that are asked of Poland.  Manners First prize to Austria that washes everything it has to pay its debts. Consolation prize As the custom is to give a consolation prize to those who didn’t win anything, we will follow the custom. First prize to Poland for continuing to be patient.

Second prize to M. Vulture, store owner, who decreased by 35 francs a rent of 6 thousand francs. We must encourage him. Ladies and gentlemen, the awards are over. We hope we’ve upset less people than the Conservatory.

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Tag list form

A/n: hello peoples!! I’m so excited to FINALLY post the first chapter of this fic!!! I’ve been working on it for a long time, and after a few unpleasant delays, it’s finally happening 😁. While this isn’t my first fic, this is my first NHL fic, and the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr, so I’m a little nervous. This first chapter is mostly the set up to the main story, this is reader’s side of things with a flashback story. Chapter two will be mostly from Elias’s point of view. The rest of the chapters will switch back and fourth between the two.

CREDIT: Finally, before we get started I have to shout out my proofreaders. Y’all put up with me and my insanity: @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @immmbabyyygraceee @💕💕And specifically @imagines-r-s ASH!!! Babes, you have been the best and most supportive friend I could’ve asked for during this. You boosted my confidence about this fic and I have no idea what I’d do without you 😁😁

Without further ado, let’s get started shall we!! (Sorry for the long A/N, it’ll only be for this first chapter)

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of cursing, friends with benefits but like...just cuddling???, references to iCarly, mentions of One Tree Hill.

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: (i suggest having these ready before you read)

Y/C/N/N= your cute nick name, only Markstrom calls you it (you’ll see why) this can be either a pet name you like, or a nick name you already have.

Y/N/N= your nick name, Brock, Quinn, and a few others call you this, it’s more of a playful name. Again, this can be a nickname you already have (if you don’t have one I suggest something stupid (sounds like something Stech or Brock would come up with)

Y/N= this is your first name, only Elias calls you this unless it’s a serious situation, or you’re in trouble, or Brock is being an ass. (If it wasn’t clear before...your last name is Boeser)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you have a hardcore crush on your brothers best friend, who also happens to barely speak to you...it’s a slight predicament.

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

(This is set in the 2021 season, however, because of my denial, Marky and Stech are still in Vancouver and were never traded... also no Covid. however the season was still delayed just to make it easier to follow.)

Present (Feb. 2021)

You’ve always been best friends with your older brother, you never had any real issues when you were younger and you were inseparable. So much so in fact, that once you graduated early a little less than two years ago (June 2019), he asked you to move to Vancouver and live with him. He was always so protective of you and you appreciated everything he has done in your life. One of the best parts about Brock being your older brother was the people he introduced to you. You aren’t very social and god knows how much of a people person your brother is. Once you had moved in, Brock quickly introduced you to the team. And with your double major in Statistics: Data Sciences and Sports Management, you were able to secure a job with the team. Quickly, you found yourself with a second family, one with many members.

Quinn Hughes is your best friend. when you met him about a year and a half ago, you hit it off immediately. With both of you being the same age and not very social, there was an obvious connection there. When Brock and The boys  go out, it is you and Quinn who stay in and watch shows on the couch (your favorite being New Girl). Huggy Bear is so sweet and you tell him EVERYTHING, even things you’d never tell your brother. You are still thanking the draft lottery every day that the Canucks received the 7th overall pick that gave you your bestie.

Thatcher Demko AKA Dems AKA Thatch AKA baby goalie is the sweetest and most hilarious guy you know. He is always looking after you just like Brock, but he is also one of the most annoying guys you know. When you’d first met you had the biggest crush on him. You told Quinn as much and he gave you so much shit for it. That crush was short-lived though, once you found out how obnoxious he could be. You still love him, just as a friend. Though Quinn never forgets to remind you of the crush that once was.

Bo Horvat is like another big brother to you. Sure you have Brock, but he’s your best friend. Bo, however, is the person you go to when you needed advice. Holly is one of the only WAGs you’ve become close with. She and you consistently have wine and gossip nights, of which Quinn is sometimes in attendance. Plus, you and Quinn are an amazing babysitting team for Gunnar if you have anything to say about it. 

Troy Stecher is the annoying older brother you never had. He always makes fun of you, calls you names, and bullies you in the loving way brothers do. And he never hesitates to come to you if he ever needs girl advice, which seems to happen a lot.

JT was just like Bo, except he is waaay more protective of you, maybe even a bit more than brock. He doesn’t have a sister and when you met, he made it his job to never see you get hurt. Seriously, one day a guy was bugging you at the bar, and both Brock and Bo were struggling to hold him back when he saw him slap you on the ass as you walked away. 

Jacob Markstrom, AKA Marky, AKA Giraffe (pronounced like it is in one of your favorite vines), AKA your cuddle buddy for the past few seasons. Both being single, you felt lonely sometimes and Quinn wasn’t much of a hugger (despite what the nickname might have you believe). Thatcher had offered but Marky, though just as social, is much more laid back. It also helps that he is 6’6 putting him over a foot taller than you. So during movie nights, or late nights at the bar, he is the side you lean on. Of course, you made it abundantly clear to most of the boys and yourselves that you were just friends. As sweet as he was and as great of a boyfriend as he would’ve been, he wasn’t quite your type and your personalities clashed.

Then there was Elias Pettersson, the tall, skinny, Swedish guy you knew as Petey. The guy who looked at you often and barely spoke a word directed towards you. He was Brock's best friend and he came over all the time, you didn’t have an issue with him, and you couldn’t deny he was funny, and from what you’ve heard he is a very kind person. So naturally, he was exactly your type. You’ve had a massive crush on him for a while now, somehow despite the lack of conversation. And the few times he has talked to you, he’s seemed so perfect, but there are only a few times you can remember. 

Right now, as you're on your way to the Canuck’s break room your brother texted you to meet him in, you try to recall those few times, specifically the one where your crush on him truly developed.

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

FLASHBACK (some time in January, 2020)

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

You, Quinn, and Jacob were laying on the L-shaped couch in ‘The Boeser apartment’, you were cuddled under the blanket with Jacob, laying on the section perpendicular to the TV, your heads at the corner. Quinn was on the other side of the couch, his head right next to yours. it was about 7 o’clock and the episode of One Tree Hill you were watching had just ended and you three had not eaten dinner yet. As the countdown for the next episode started, your stomach growled and you got a look from Quinn and a giggle from Jacob. 

“You hungry Y/C/N/N?” Jacob asked.

You looked up at him and giggled, “maybe just a little bit.”

“Y/N/N, you know what sounds amazing?” Quinn asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to each other and you both smirked knowing you were thinking the same thing.

“Spaghetti tacos!!” You both said. 

Ever since you were about 10 and you watched iCarly on TV, you had always wanted to try them. It had become an inside joke between you and Quinn for quite some time as he had the same desire as you to see how good they actually were.

“We should totally try them tonight!!” Quinn was quite excited.

“I’m so confused right now,” Jacob chimed in.

“They’re from a show! They take spaghetti and put it in taco shells,” you explained.

“Ahh, hence the name.” he nodded.

“Exactly,” Quinn said.

You jumped up from the couch excitedly and ran straight to your kitchen.

“Ok, we have spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, ground beef, taco shells, aaaand..... by chance do either of you know how to make good meatballs?”

“You’re asking the Swedish guy if he knows how to make meatballs?” Jacob replied.

“Not Swedish meatballs, Italian, stupid Giraffe,” you retorted. 

“Gross,” he said with a disgusted look.

“Ooo my mom made the best Italian meatballs, let me call her to see if she can send me the recipe!” Quinn said with a big smile.

Quinn exited the kitchen and ran to your room to call his mom. 

“You know, I’ve never seen him so excited about anything,” Marky said with a laugh. 

“Quinn loves his food,” you replied.

“Are Brock and Thatch having dinner with us ?”

“I’ll ask.”

You started boiling the water for the pasta, and you cooked part of the ground beef for the meat sauce. Then you texted Brock:

Y/N/N: hey, you want me to make you dinner

Brock: Yeah, who all is there?

Y/N/N: the usual

Brock: Huggy and Marky?

Y/N/N: yep, so do you want some?

Brock: Yeah, and make enough for another person too

Y/N/N: ok

You figured it was Dems since that’s who he went to hang out with when he left 5 hours ago. 

You continued to cook when Quinn came in and grabbed a bunch of stuff from the pantry and cabinets. “Did your mom tell you how to make them?” you questioned your frantic best friend.

“Yes she did and she sent me the recipe too.”

“Coolio,” you reply.

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

You were almost done cooking, the pasta was done, Quinn had put his meatballs in the oven and there were only 5 minutes left on the timer. And the sauce had about 2 minutes to simmer.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot what to do when they're almost done, she does this thing, I have to call her,” Quinn said with a panicked look on his face. He ran back to your room.

The front door to your apartment opened quickly, both boys laughing, “ahh, shit,  my brother’s calling me,” Brock said as he ran back to his room.

“Why does everyone feel the need to exit the room for phone calls?” you asked Jacob.

He shrugged with a giggle, “I don't know, maybe they don’t trust us,” he said in a sarcastically dramatic tone grasping his chest.

The door closed slowly and you glanced at the doorway where you thought you’d see the ever adorable goalie, Thatcher Demko, instead, you saw the adorable, slender, tall blonde you’d seen all the time, but never had a one on one interaction with... except the first time you met, when he told you that you looked pretty.

“Hi, Petey!” Jacob said as he slipped behind you to watch you mix the sauce, he stood over you looking at the sauce and put his hand on your waist.

“Hi,” he replied, his smile from before had faded.

“Looks so good Y/C/N/N,” Jacob said with a kiss on your cheek, a regular action. 

“Thanks, Giraffe, can you grab the taco shells?”

He grabbed them easily from the top shelf (tall ass bitch -_-), and moved behind you, placing his hands on your waist yet again, to move you to the side. “I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back”

“Ok, you have fun with that,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly, was only you and Elias in the room, and the silence was deafening.

“So what are we eating?” he said, pulling your attention to his bright blue eyes.

“Um, spaghetti tacos, they're from a tv sho-”

“Like from iCarly?” he interrupted.

“...Uh yeah? How'd you know?” you couldnt pull your attention away from his eyes, ‘they are just so beautiful,’ you thought somehow you hadnt noticed this within the on and a half years you’d known him.

“We also get Nickelodeon, you know,” he said while throwing you a smirk that made your stomach flip. 

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you replied, feeling just a little embarrassed. 

“iCarly was my favorite, actually.” 

“Yeah, it was mine too,” you said, smiling back, looking at the way he just lit up your kitchen with his presence.

You both stood there for a second just looking at the other, “So how long have-,” he started.

“OKAY,” Quinn unknowingly interrupted, “so she told me what to do, turns out I have to put sauce over them for the last 2 minutes, so Y/N/N can you just put a tablespoon of sauce on each ball then put them back in for two minutes?” 

“Yeah of course. Elias, you were saying?” you looked back at the Swede.

“Oh it's nothing,” he looked down at his shoes. 

“Ok, Y/N/N you need to call mom and tell her we’re fine and that she doesn't need to worry about us please, Paul says she’s stressing,” Brock said as he entered the room.

“When is she not stressing about us? I’ll call her after dinner, how's dad?”

“Doin’ good, nothing has changed or progressed or whatever since we were home last,” Brock moved and sat on the couch letting out a big sigh.

“That’s good,” you let out a sigh.

“Petey, come here, we’re watching Gossip Girl” Brock shouted at the Swede.

“Ooo what episode are you guys on?” you asked. Brock had mentioned how he was making him watch the show you two had watched about 5 times together. 

“Just after Chuck gets Dan kidnapped at Yale.” 

“Oh so you still hate Chuck?” you asked Elias.

“Ew, yeah...wait is that gonna change?” Petey said with a scoff.

“Uh....,” you stalled.

“Y/N shut up, don't spoil it,” Brock interrupted before you could make it worse.

“Ok well, dinner is ready so just start the show after and we can all watch it together.”

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

“Oh my god, these are actually amazing,” Quinn said with his mouth full.

“I know, I did not think this was gonna taste good,” Jacob added.

“Hey!” you said, offended.

“Y/C/N/N, you know I love your cooking, it was the idea of the meal that I doubted,” Jacob said leaning into your side and putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmmhmm, suuure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Hallå Marky, ni två är söta (hey Marky, you two are cute),” Petey said, confusing you, Quinn and Brock with the sudden change in language.

Jacob, being oblivious to what Petey was implying, just said, “tack broder (thanks, bro).”

Little did you know what was going on in Elias’s head.

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

PRESENT

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

Before that night, you never really thought of Elias in a romantic way. You'd been around him quite a lot, seeing as how, seemingly, is in your apartment more than his own. Sure, you knew he was cute and very sweet from what you'd seen, but up until that point, you'd never had a one-on-one interaction with him. That interaction, however small, was the beginning of an obsessive crush. Quinn was the first to point it out, you started listening closely any time he talked, attempting to converse with him, and thinking about him on a daily basis even when you didn't see him. And due to your stubbornness, no matter how unrequited your crush seemed, it never faltered. You had always thought he hated you, or maybe he just tolerated you because you were Brock’s sister, and you were always around. 

However, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

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

Tag list: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

all my focus on you

summary: all of your focus is on Jake, and yet you can’t see that he loves you.

warnings: mentions of injury

word count: 3.2k

note from the writer: this is the first thing I've posted in months and I really like how it turned out. let me know what you think! also I didn’t edit it so sorry ahead of time.

“Who’s Tuna?”

You had heard the nickname tossed around a lot. At least, you were pretty sure it was a nickname. You were new to the world of hockey, having only really paid attention to the sport in the past few months as a result of your roommate, Jess, dating professional player Brock Boeser. Through him, you had met Elias, Quinn, Thatcher, Troy, and a whole assortment of others. But, Tuna still remained a mystery to you. Apparently, he was going to be joining your group out to the bar that night.

“You’ll like him.” Brock declared, giving you the same response he always did whenever you asked, while Elias’ smile turned the special kind of mischievous that only he could ever pull off. You didn’t have the chance to question how he could have been so certain, because Jess called your name and insisted that you start getting ready to go.

You’d never, not once in a million years, admit it that Brock was right.

You did like ‘Tuna’. A lot more than you probably should have. He was fun and outgoing from the moment Brock introduced you to him at the bar. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized that Tuna was Jake Virtanen, your secret hockey crush. When Jess started seeing Brock, she showed you the entire Canucks roster. Jake’s piercing blue eyes struck out to you from the moment you saw his picture, but other than a ‘oh he’s cute’ and a mental note of his name and number, you kept quiet.

Now, he was standing before you, handing extended for you to shake with a dazzling smile that nearly made you forget your own name.

“I’m Jake.” He said brightly, and you offered your own smile in return as you slipped your hand into his meekly. Your face warmed at his touch, and if you possessed the ability to look away from Jake, you would have seen the shit-eating grin Brock wore. But you couldn’t, and instead you saw the way Jake’s gaze stayed on you, his own cheeks turning red. “What’re you drinking? I’m buying tonight.”

And thus, an amazing friendship grew. Which, for whatever reason, Brock seemed to loathe.

He was insistent that there was something more between you and Jake, which you vehemently denied, and each time your cheeks would burn brightly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want anything more with Jake, in the few months that you had gotten to know him, he had become one of your closest friends and the person you told everything too.

And your secret hockey crush turned into full blown feelings. Most of your time was spent with him, even if you felt nothing but butterflies in your stomach whenever he was near. Only a few short months after meeting him, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was a constant presence in your life, as sure as you were that the sun would rise, you knew that Jake would be there for you.

With a schedule as crazy as a professional athlete’s, you jumped on any opportunity to spend time with Jake and any of the guys on the team, who all quickly became good friends of yours, along with their partners. Currently, you were at a diner, getting a quick lunch with Jake, Petey, and Brock, the two blondes sharing a side of the booth opposite of you.

Jake was in the middle of animatedly telling a story, and you watched with your undivided attention. Well, nearly undivided, since he had swung an arm around your shoulders shortly after sitting down and the simple contact had your heart beating like crazy. Petey had sent you no less than three shit-eating grins, and Brock was openly chuckling at how flustered you were. You were just thankful Jake was as oblivious as he was.

“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Jake asked, jostling you with the arm that was around his shouler to get your attention as soon as he finished his story. You nodded, taking a sip of your drink to cover up the fact that you had been openly staring at him as he spoke. “Perfect. Alright, I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to meet with my nutritionist.”

There was a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ as he tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover both his bill and yours, since he always insisted on paying for you. Before he could slide out of the booth, though, he pressed a quick kiss to your temple, an innocent act that had your heart doing cartwheels. You avoided Petey and Brock’s gazes, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. It was only when the bell chimed on the door signalling that Jake had left, did someone speak up.

“Oh, come on!” Brock groaned, and you shot him a curious look. He ignored you, turning to face Elias, who was grinning in amusement. “I’m just going to tell her. It’s painful at this point.”

“Tell me what?” You question, nerves seeping into you, watching Elias shrug and grin wider. Instantly, your mind thought about the worst, like someone was getting traded or something similar, but nothing could have prepared you for what Brock said next.

“Jake is in love with you.”

“What? No, he’s not.” You spluttered, eyes wide and cheeks warm. Brock rolled his eyes at you, a scoff leaving his lips as if he thought his teammate’s apparent affection was obvious.

“He talks about you all the time.” Petey offered, and you fell silent. Elias wasn’t one to mess around with something like that. Sure, he made sly comments that had you laughing everytime, but this was different.

“He thinks you could never like him back, so we have to listen to him complain about it.” Brock’s tone was serious, but you could hear the subtle chirp. You pursed your lips, dropping your focus onto your plate to avoid meeting either of their gazes.

“You guys are ridiculous.” You settled on saying, though just because you dropped the conversation, it didn’t mean that you stopped thinking about it.

Even hours later as you were walking through the doors of the arena, you were still thinking about it. Though, you were quickly distracted as Jess led you through the crowd to find your seats and watch warm-ups.

Despite your inner turmoil, the Virtanen jersey felt right on your shoulders, now a regular part of your wardrobe. When Jake had found out that you had no idea about hockey, he had bought you the number eighteen Canucks sweater, along with tickets to just about every home game, claiming you were his good luck charm. When he gave you his jersey, he stated that it was to make your hockey experience complete—thought now you weren’t so sure.

Brock’s words from earlier in the day were still bouncing in your head. You had a hard time believing they were true, but then you thought over nearly every interaction you had with Jake. They all had a common theme—Jake was always looking at you with a softness to his eyes that you had, at the time, chaked up to his friendliness. Now, thinking back, you recognized the look. It was the same look you gave him.

A look of utter adoration and total love.

You settled into your seat to watch the game with a wide smile on your face, borderline giddy with the conclusion you had come to. You decided that after the game, when you would be going back to Jake’s for a movie night and a sleepover, a tradition that had been established after celebrating a win too hard one night and you spent the night at his place, and at the following brunch it was decided his guest room would be yours after any home games. Though, if you played your cards right, you wouldn’t be sleeping in the guest room.

Your happiness only lasted until halfway through the first period, and quickly dread formed in the pit of your stomach. The game was back and forth, neither team able to keep possession of the puck for very long. Petey scored first, and you cheered loudly, but clamped your mouth shut when a player on the opposite team—you couldn’t see a name on his jersey, and even so, you didn’t pay attention to any hockey team outside of Vancouver—started shoving Jake. Of course, Jake was running his mouth and shoving back, and it was only when a ref skated between the two players did you let out a breath of relief you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Apparently, Jake pissed off the other team a lot more than you originally thought.

You would have sworn he was being targeted. Everytime he was on the ice, it seemed, that an opposing player would check him into the boards. He wad getting hit hard from all angles, he got tripped twice but only drew a penalty on one—and if you screamed bullshit! at the ref, then who would have blamed you—and got into a fight late in the second after an opposing player shoved into Thatcher.

It was the third period when things really went awry.

It was the final minutes of the period, Vancouver up by one, thanks to Bo’s goal at the end of the second. The Canucks were fighting to hold on, maybe score an extra point to cement their victory, while the other team was getting desperate. And they were playing dirty, too.

You didn’t really register the gasp that fell from your lips as some unknown opponent slammed Jake into the boards, head on, with clear intent to injure him. You did remember jumping to your feet, as if that would make everything better.

Jess, who you hadn’t really acknowledged was sitting next to you in your stress, gripped your arm tightly. You watched in horror as Jake stayed down, hands holding his head as the athletic trainer jogged across the ice with the assistance of Troy Stetcher. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Jake, but if you could, you would have seen Brock looking worriedly from his injured teammate to where he knew you were in the stands.

It felt like years later when Jake finally stood, and while leaning heavily on his trainer and Troy, he went down the tunnel. You sat down stifly into your seat, leg bouncing in nerves and fingers tapping an unknown pattern as you anxiously waited for the game to be over so you could check on Jake.

Five minute major, game misconduct.

Good, you thought, but you kept your mouth clamped shut as nausea swirl in your stomach. Distantly, you heard Jess say that the opposing player was most likely going to get fined for his actions. You knew hockey was a hard hitting sport, but that was terrible. You had seen Jake hurt before, blocked shots, highsticks, and the sorts—but not once had it taken him that long to get back up.

You couldn’t focus on the rest of the game, you were pretty sure that at some point Quinn had scored, but eventually Jess was leading you down to the tunnel where had to meet the other players. Holly, Bo’s wife, had tried to assure you that Jake would be fine the moment she saw you.

“He’s got a thick skull.” She tried to lighten the mood, but all you could muster was a weak smile and a laugh that sounded forced and foriegn to even your own ears. You listened to the other wives and girlfriends of players chatter about who knows what—certainly not you, you were staring at the door you knew the boys emerged from—for minutes. The girls knew you, how you were always around Jake, acting like a couple but not once taking that extra step, so they knew how stressed you were, waiting for the verdict.

Elias was the first one to exit the room, heading straight to you with a tiny, reassuring, smile on his face. Your arms were crossed tightly across your body, an indicator of just how uncomfortable you were in the moment.

“He’s fine. He’ll be out in a few minutes.” He told you quietly. Though it helped calmed you slightly, you couldn’t get the imagine of him laying on the ice out of your head. You nodded your head in thanks, before he patted your shoulder comfortingly and departed. Quinn was next out, shooting you a pitiful smile. Tanev, Toffoli, and Edler all came out before finally, the brunette you had been waiting for emerged with Brock at his side.

He looked terrible, his tie was loose around his neck, hair a mess from the quick post-game shower he had just taken. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked so tired that your heart clenched in your chest.

“How are you?” You asked quietly once he stopped before you. Jess and Brock left to give you some privacy, but you didn’t notice in the slightest. Your focus was on Jake—like it always was.

“A little beat up, nothing I can’t handle.” He waved off his injured like it was nothing. You pouted for a moment, knowing he was playing down the severity of it. He seemed to sense your disbelief, because he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You sank into the embrace, reciprocating the hug with a deep sigh.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” You threatened into the fabric of his suit, wrapping your arms tiger around his middle. He chuckled lowly, holding you just as tight in return. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your stomach a lightning storm of nerves.

“I’ll try not to.” He assured you quietly, dropping a kiss to top of your head. You thought back to your decision before the game, how you were going to confront both his feelings and yours, and decided that it could wait just a little bit longer.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You mumbled, pulling away sightly. He nodded and you, and you were pleasantly surprised as he slipped his hand into yours, threading your fingers together, as you headed in the direction of his car.

You insisted on driving, and Jake only protested slightly. The ride was quiet, and you could tell something was bothering him, but chose to stay quiet and let him come to you when he was ready. Or at least until you got back to his home. Instead, you listened to his music play softly from the car as you weaved through the streets of Vancouver, taking the familiar path to Jake’s place.

When you finally arrived, he slipped into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable, and you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he returned, he was in a Canucks hoodie and pair of grey sweats, and instead of sitting next to you on the couch, he laid across it so his head was in your lap. Instantly, your hand threaded though his hair and you scratched at his scalp, something you knew he loved. His eyes fluttered shut at the action, and he hummed contentedly.

“You scared me tonight.” You said softly after a moment. You tried to will away the tears that welled up in your eyes, remembering how it felt to see him laying on the ice, injured. It tore you in two, you had never felt more sick to your stomach at a sight than you did when he was down.

“I know.” He sighed queitly in response. Not trusting yourself to keep your voice steady, you chose not to respond right away. He reached a hand up, grabbing yours out of his hair and pressing a kiss to your palm, before threading your fingers through his and resting it on his chest.

And then, you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past your lips—

“I love you too much to see you get hurt like that.” You hated how your voice cracked, and most of all you hated how you confessed your feelings. You wanted to do so during a happy moment, one shared with smiles and he’d tell you he felt the same, but no, you were holding back tears on his couch as he tensed, your words registering.

“What?” He questioned, sitting up abruptly. You would have thought that you had screwed everything up, if it weren’t for the near-death grip he had on your hand. Still, you couldn’t meet his gaze, and instead focused on the coffee table. Gently, with his free hand, he cupped your jaw, turning so you were facing him. It was then that you realized that you were crying, silent tear tracks running down your cheeks that he brushed away carefully as he studied your face intently. “What did you just say?”

“I love you.” You choked out, voice tight. “And I’m new to the hockey thing, so I’m not used to seeing hits like that and I—”

Your ramblings were cut short as Jake surged forward, connecting your lips to his. It took you a moment to react, but your free hand eventually moved to the back of his neck, your other still gripped in yours. The kiss wasn’t heated, but loaded with so much passion and emotion it made your head swirl. Months of casual flirting and innocent touches built to this moment, and you would be lying if you said you were aware of how long you actually were pressed against him.

Eventually, he did pull back, a wide and dopey grin on his face. You smiled just as brightly, the hand on the back of his neck toying slightly with the strands of hair there. Chasing your lips for a few quick pecks that your readily complied with.

“I love you, too.” He hummed, seemingly unable to tear his focus from you. You didn’t mind, not one bit, considering he had you attention from the moment you had met.

“I know.” You grinned, watching as his brows pull together in confusion, a silent question and urge for you to elaborate. With a giggle, you explained. “Brock told me.”

“Of course he did.” Jake groaned, tipping his head back. You chuckled at his dramatics, looking at him with the same fond look you always did. Only this time, you didn’t have to worry about him finding out. Your hand moved from behind his head to his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. You smiled as he brought his attenton back to you, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “You know, he’s been trying to set me up with you this entire time.”

“Yeah, he told me that I’d like you the night we met. He and Petey were planning this.” You explained, watching as he lifted your joined hands and kissed the back of yours, a barking laugh leaving him as you finished your sentence.

“Was he right?” He asked cheekily, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest so he could cuddle you. You admired him with a soft smile, watching as he grabbed the remote on the couch beside him to put on a movie. Never in a millions years would you admit that Brock was right, but you with the way Jake was smiling, you decided to make an acception.

“Definitely.”

[srose-foxfire]

“Under an Autumn Moonlight” Part: 3 (Damirae fic)

Part #1

Part #2

Part #3 

Raven let out a deep sigh as she exited her history lecture hall. Her mind should had been in class, but her mind she kept going back to the very uncomfortable lecture they received from their landlord outside their apartment building. Raven and Donna had returned to find their apartment building evacuated because their friend and roommate, Jinx, had started a small fire in their kitchen. Their landlord was furious with them all, this wasn’t the first time Jinx had endangered lives before. It was her third, and their landlord was running out of patience to let them continue renting the three-bedroom apartment. The only thing saving them from being evicted was that they were college students trying to get by and focusing on their degrees. Though Raven was certain with another ‘Jinx incident’ they be kicked out to the streets, for sure.

Their friend seemed to be a magnet that attracted misfortune wherever there was any electronic device. Nevertheless, they all cared for Jinx very much. Raven wouldn’t be true to herself if she didn’t feel a bit least upset for leaving Robin. She was starting to feel at ease with him and wanted to continue talking with him. It also seemed he wanted to talk about something more personal before she got the phone call from Jinx.

“I hope to see you again.”

Was the last thing Robin had said to her and in truth Raven wanted to see him too. She didn’t know how to though, it would look strange if she just showed up at the warehouse, besides she didn’t know when the band was there. Maybe if she could contact him directly? Robin was friends with Jon, maybe Raven could ask Jon for Robin’s number, but knowing Jon he would question her and then go gossip to Donna who would interrogate Raven on the matter. Raven didn’t even know what all this was, the only thing she was certain was she wanted to see him again and just talk.Right? That’s all she wanted nothing more.

Raven continue walking down the main walkway of the university going to her next class. Introduction to Astronomy. One of the class assignments she was looking forward to was going to an overnight camping trip to stargaze and map out constellations. Their professor also added that they could distinguish the planet Saturn from the stars because it was closer to Earth during the fall semester.

Raven could hardly wait and just stargaze to ger heart’s content. Since a child, Raven always liked looking up into the starry night sky and letting her worries be swept from her.

Raven didn’t have the best childhood; she lost her mother at very young age where her memories were blur glimpses. What always made her think of her mother was the smell of lavender. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could had sworn seeing her mother standing next to her crib and light a lavender scented candle, singing her a gentle lullaby. When her mother passed, she was left with a drunken father who wasn’t home at all doing who knows what. She was confided in that small apartment for eighteen years, the only times she was allowed outside was to go to school. During the day she was the good student, getting the highest remarks in every class, but when night came, she let herself cry out. One night she looked up to a full moon and imagined it was her mother’s way of lighting her dark world. Since then Raven found solace in the night sky.

When Raven graduated from high school, she left that small apartment and moved away with her only friend Donna Troy to Gotham City, for a new start. There they met Jinx, this made Raven feel she had someplace she could really call home and have a family. She entered the new school year without declaring a major, but knew she wanted to be surrounded by books. During her second year in the university, Raven was passing by a small vintage store and through the window saw a mother and her very young daughter look through a worn-out book. In that moment Raven imagined herself in the girl’s place and transformed the woman to what vague memory Raven had of Arella, her mother. That’s when Raven decided she would open her own bookstore, in memory of her mother, and help others find sanctuary.

Raven finally arrived at her astronomy classroom. She sat down in her usual lab table and took out her notebook and textbook. There were ten tables in total, separated in pairs to force students to work together. Though the seat next to Raven’s was always empty, which was weird there were exactly twenty seats and twenty students were enrolled. One student was never called for, yet the seat was taken since no one had dropped out. To act like she could rely one someone, Raven always placed her backpack on the empty seat, the bag was a trusted ally who always carried her things. The classroom was starting to fill as each student too their seat before the professor arrived.

Raven was looking over her notes from last class when she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye standing next to her table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Raven looked up and her gaze widen in shock. Standing before her dressed in designer clothes was none other than Damian Wayne. Like theson to Bruce Wayne and heir to run Wayne Enterprises. What was he doing here?

Raven managed to squeak out a no, and quickly as she could remove her backpack from the chair. Damian sat down, and took out a notebook, flipped through it till he found a clean page. He scribbled something on a corner and then very gracefully pulled out his textbook. This made no sense, Raven thought. Was he the one student that was enrolled and never show up? And why show up now of all times. They were halfway through the semester and come to think he wasn’t around for the midterm they had taken a few weeks ago.

She could feel the atmosphere change in the classroom as everyone stared at the young man next to her. Damian Wayne was someone who didn’t allow anyone get near him other than his family, in interviews and documentaries on his family’s company he was always seen to be at a distance from everyone. Raven wasn’t much for gossip, but all these were just rumors and online news articles she had heard from.

From the corner of her eye she saw Damian read over some notes, he looked so calm. Like he had no care in the world. Which was surprising given to the fact she caught some of her classmates taking pictures of him. Probably posting on their social media pages that the infamous Damian Wayne had graced their presence. Raven would lie to herself if she didn’t admit he was handsome. His olive skin looked almost that of a god of sun, his emerald eyes containing vivid green forests in them. Raven wasn’t staring she had seen countless pictures of him to study his features. The room went silent when Professor Charles, entered the classroom.

Professor Charles was in his late sixties, with a small rounded belly and fine gray hairs still trying to cover his baldness. He went straight to his desk, plugged in his flash drive into the classroom’s computer and turn on the projector. Someone who sat behind Raven, cleared their throat rather loudly making Professor Charles look up from the computer screen. He was about to address the student when his eyes caught something unusual. He removes his small round glasses, gave them a quick wipe, and placed them back on the brim of his nose.

“Ah. Mr. Wayne. Glad you could finally join us. I assume you will be with us till the remainder of the semester?”

“Yes. Professor.”

Raven tried so hard to pay attention she hadn’t been focused in her previous class but now this was ridiculous. Her mind kept screaming:

Ahh it THE Damian Wayne! Is he going to be OUR lab partner?

When did she revert back to a lovestruck teenager? He was just another classmate nothing more. Raven continue to try and focus on the lecture and take notes as the studious student she was. Her mind wondered again but thankfully this time it made her start doodling on the corner of notebook page. She was going to pay for it later, but Raven manage to write down some words she heard her professor say. Raven will have to go over one of her classmates notes after deciphering whatever her brain allowed her to retain. She allowed her hand to move to whatever direction it wanted, she wasn’t paying it no mind.  

Raven stopped when she heard countless chairs screech, she looked up to find her classmates collecting their belongings and heading out the door. Raven shot a quick glance towards Professor Charles and he was erasing something he wrote on the white board. Panicked kicked in and Raven quickly wrote whatever was left of the assignment. Maybe she could ask someone for clarity on the homework through the class’ online portal? Feeling very disgruntle with herself, Raven started slamming her things into her backpack.

“A robin.”

Raven looked up to find Damian standing from his seat staring at her notebook. She then looked down and saw she had doodled a bird, though she wasn’t sure with herself if it was a robin. “I guess.”

“Your favorite bird?” he continued.

Damian was trying to make small talk. Why with her? “Not really, but birds are cool.” Brain stop talking. Raven was making a fool of herself; she flipped her notebook closed and slammed it into her backpack. Out the corner of her eye, Raven could still notice Damian just standing there. Was he waiting for a longer explanation? “I was thinking of some… thing that happened over this weekend. Made me draw a bird.” Truth was she had met someone but he didn’t need to know that little detail.

“Sounds interesting. I’m Damian Wayne by the way.” I know. “I have been away due to personal matters and would like to ask if you could assist me? I fear I may be a little behind and could use a study partner for this class.”

“Well according to the seating arrangement, we’re supposed to be lab partners for the whole semester. I’m Raven.” She extended her hand out and Damian shook her hand.  

Damian smiled at her, “pleasure to meet you.”  

Raven could had sworn she seen that smile once before, but couldn’t place it in her mind where she had seen it.

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

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this update, I wanted so much to happen but had to pace myself for the sake of this story. I am not sure when I will update this one next, trying to figure out a route that I like best. HOWEVER be on the look out this Friday for the first two chapters on my Dark Robin Au! I am excited to share with you all this fic, also because I want to multitask I will be sharing a chapter  for another longer Damirae fic sometime this weekend. 

Till next time!

~ S.Rose

[imaginedmelody]

Thanksgiving “Community” Fic Rec Post!

It’s been a hot second since I posted fic recs on this blog! When I went to put this list together, the “Community” fics vastly outnumbered everything else I was planning to include. So I’m dividing this into 2 posts: you’ll get the “Community” ones now, so I can take time to track down some of my faves from other fandoms.

Not to sound saccharine, but Thanksgiving is about gratitude, and the Community fandom is the one I’m most grateful for this year. Both the show and the people I’ve met because of it made 2020 go from a hell year to...well, a slightly more bearable hell year, if we’re honest. And the fandom produces some damn good fics. So here they are, in no particular order, for your quarantine reading pleasure! And be sure to let me know your favorites that I might have missed!

1. “Advanced Companion Reconciliation” by adorations; Troy/Abed, not rated, complete (but part of a series marked in-progress)

This is one of the first fics that really stood out to me when I started getting into Community fic in the late spring/early summer of this year. The fandom is filled with post-series reunion fics where Troy goes to find Abed in LA, and this one is particularly exquisite. The whole story is wonderful, but I’ll go ahead and publicly state that Chapter 4 of this fic is one of the best single pieces of writing I read on AO3 this year. The level of intimacy and understanding and protectiveness between the characters, even in a non-romantic context, is mind-blowing. Their relationship just builds and builds beautifully.

2. “Lessons in Adjustment” and “Remedial Recovery” by biggod ( @nadir-barnes ); Troy/Abed, mature (LiA) / explicit (RR), complete (but part of a series marked in-progress)

A tender, angsty, but absolutely beautiful pair of fics- the first about chronic illness, the second about mental health. It can be a real gamble to take characters from a piece of comedic media and write about them undergoing scary and sad things, but Cherie does it perfectly here. This series will break your heart and make it soar at the same time, because even as Abed struggles to face a painful (and painfully realistic) diagnosis, the love between the characters and their humanity just shines right through. By the end of “Remedial Recovery,” I could feel that moment of learning to wake up to life again just like the characters were. Can’t recommend it highly enough.

3. “Studies in Evolution of Affection” by onemechanicalalligator ( @1mechanicalalligator ); Jeff/Abed, explicit, complete

There are some writers where the main barrier to including them in rec posts like this is that you want to rec everything they’ve written. Maya is absolutely one of those writers. Her fics may not have been the first I read when I joined the fandom, but they were one of the first where I began to make friends, to have conversations and feel like an active participant in the fandom. Like Cherie (above), Maya has also written fics about the characters going through dark situations, especially Abed dealing with mental illness and Jeff recovering from alcoholism (both of which, while dealt with more seriously in her fics than in the show, are canon-compliant aspects of the characters). And there is a special place in my heart for those, but if I had to choose one fic to recommend out of all of her dozens of works, it would be this one. Jeff/Abed is a rarer, more niche pairing, but one with incredible potential, since both Jeff and Abed are damaged in their own ways (and often understand each other better than the others, especially in the later seasons- even when they’re at odds). Each of the chapters is a little glimpse into a different scenario as Jeff and Abed’s relationship develops. Some of them are connected, and some are more stand-alone, but they’re all filled with lovely fluff and hurt/comfort.

4. “Seminar on the Legality of RomCom Tropes” by ama ( @greenandhazy ); Troy/Abed, teen, complete

No joke, this fic may actually have made me cry a little from all the emotions it gave me. It definitely made me gasp and burrow into the pillows smiling and say “awww” out loud. It starts with a pretty solid romantic comedy fake-dating premise: instead of Pierce requiring Troy to sail around the world to earn his $14 million inheritance, the conditions in this fic are that he must get married in one month and remain married for at least a year. After trying and failing to find a partner, Abed agrees to marry him to fulfill the terms of the agreement. And this begins an epic slow-burn for the ages, that rivals any romance movie I’ve watched in recent memory. The way they have to act like a happily married couple while, at the same time, not acknowledging their growing feelings for each other- it’s so beautiful and the longing is exquisite. By the time it ended, the joy I felt was incredible. This is the only single-chapter non-series fic on this list, so if you’re looking to read just one standalone, this is a perfect heartwarming choice.

5. “Basic Heartbreak Repair” by lgbtrobed ( @lgbtrobed ); Troy/Abed, explicit, complete as of TODAY!

While we’re on the topic of slow-burn... This fic is another perfect example of that. It sets up a scenario where the study group reunites in Colorado at Troy’s house, which they are using for Jeff and Britta’s wedding, years after the finale. They’ve kept in touch, but Troy and Abed have only seen each other once since Troy got back from his time at sea- and they’ve never discussed their feelings. The romantic buildup between them is just amazing; they’ve had all this distance, so things feel new, but at the same time it’s palpable how well they know each other. So every little step they take towards one another is absolutely note-perfect.

I can easily think of a dozen amazing fics that I didn’t even have room to include on this list. This fandom is full of some of the most ridiculously talented writers you can imagine. And now that the show is on Netflix streaming and enjoying a revival of popularity, there’s more fandom activity than it’s seen in years. I can’t wait to see what amazing works are waiting for us in 2021!

[chanelpirate]

19, 20, 25 please!!

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

Aged/immortal/ageless/eldritch/etc aristocrat schemes/fails at scheming while struggling between duty/objectives and Their Feelings/Ignoring Said Feelings while slinking about their domain/palace/etc in sad/horny/yet always stylish dishevelment. From this conflict a story (or ‘story’) arises. Never gets old. Much like said protagonist. (=which, I will remind, doesn’t mean ‘goodie’!)

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

—insert obscure image from Ancient Greek plays! —insert obscure reference to Shakespeare! —insert obscure reference to obscure historical event! —have I yelled about German Expressionism lately? —insert obscure reference to modernist poetry! —Insert obscure reference to 16th century Holy Roman Empire realpolitik that I read in a primary source once and thought, damn that was shady, wonder if that was in reference to—my entire fic Renaissance is this. Literally the whole thing. I’d thought about updating it with another chapter just deconstructing all the early 17th century shit-talking, because I really didn’t give the reader much. (it being an ‘outsider glimpse’ sort of situation) It might be good to do, early 17th shit-talking was marvellous, it was a ridiculous time politically. Not that I was ever there! Haha. Imagine!

Anyway, I’m not super in touch with what I have/haven’t written/actually published as fic, but a couple of mainstays do come to mind: every time I make some wry insinuation at how Alexander got all that shit funded, I am absolutely insinuating that Frederick the Great was Alexander’s sugardaddy. That absolutely would have happened were Alexander a real person, oh my god. But Chanel! I hear you declaim! He’s a real ancestor of real people who are really alive today! Oh babes, look up who they’ve supported historically and what parties current members of that family have hitched their horses to. (The 'friendliest' 20th century name I can comfortably put here is Franco. Yeah.) I don’t give a good goddamn if insinuating an 18th century member of that dynasty (who incidentally, was probably the most progressive of that lot since, and he lived 250 years ago) shagged a fictional disaster eldritch monstrosity in a way that was maybe a bit transactional is ‘disrespectful’. You know what’s really disrespectful? Supporting the fash and far-right n*tionalist movements xoxo

I would say I have a fic for this but it’s been stuck at 80% done for about 18 months and my fic to-do list is the real eldritch horror

Also, I can’t even think about the alchemist ménage à trois (Alexander/Agrippa/Weyer) without my brain screaming ‘John the Baptist! Salomé! Strauss! Siri play Dance of the Seven Veils! Alexander snog a decapitated head!'

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

The attention hahaha fml

That moment when the coin drops and the tiny thing that makes a story make internal sense clicks into place. This can take longer than one might expect. After that, everything becomes a gleeful race to the finish where I constantly go ahaha! but you know what would be REALLY fucked up!! ohohoho, but you know what would be even FUNNIER!

I don't know, I just like that whatever I write that doesn't have to have commercial considerations can come from a place of unhinged joy, even (especially?) when the subject matter is dark.

[tchallasbabymama]

Isn’t She Lovely

Hey beautiful people, here’s chapter 11 of Playlist. Check out my masterlist here to catch up and to read my other stories.

Also, In a couple weeks I’ll be starting up “Ménage `a Trois”, a T’Challa x  OC x M’Baku throuple fic. Check out the preview here! Word count: 6800

CW: pregnancy complications, a lil smut

“What about T’Kiri?”

“What is it with you all and these apostrophe names? No. How about Adana?”

T’Challa shook his head and scrunched up his nose.

“I hooked up with an Adana once, pass.”

Ashanti rolled her eyes, “Well maybe if you weren’t such a whore back in the day this would be easier.”

Shuri caught the tail end of their conversation and cackled loudly as she entered the kitchen.

“Still trying to come up with names?” She asked as she sat next to Ashanti, now towards the end of her second trimester. The princess grabbed a mango and started slicing away, handing some to Ashanti without her even needing to ask. 

“Yes, and half of the girl names I suggest remind your brother here of his sordid past.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes as he continued to fix her a plate of fish and plantains, her latest craving combination. “My past is not sordid, in fact it was quite fun-”

Ashanti stared at him with vibranium daggers in her eyes and he changed his tune, clearing his throat.

“What I mean is, um-”

“Mmmhm. Anyways, this baby will be here before we even know what to call them,” Ashanti put her head in her hands and Shuri rubbed her back.

“Are you open to suggestions?”

“Sure, why not?” Ashanti gave in.

“I’ve always liked Jendayi for a girl.”

“Jendayi…”

“Jendayi…”

The parents both rolled the name around their mouths and looked to each other for confirmation.

“Ok I like it, it’s going on the list.”

“How many names do you have so far?” “We have Nailah, and Jendayi for a princess. A prince would either be Dakarai, Hasani, Kendi, Shaka, or Omari.” Ashanti pulled the prince names out of thin air since they knew they were having a girl, but wanted to throw her off their trail.

“Oooh, good choices.”

“Thank you,” she playfully stuck her tongue out at T’Challa and he gave her the “you’re gonna get it later” look. Her face got hot and she looked away, knowing she had been working his nerves all day long. Ashanti dug into her food and smiled at how even when she was being difficult he would pull out all the stops for her. He scooped some fish and plantains onto his plate and stood with his back against the counter, devouring his food.

“So I see you two are still on that weird ‘baba pregnancy’ thing.”

“Thank Bast for the heart shaped herb or I wouldn't be able to fit into my suit,” T’Challa mused before he and Shuri heard a small sniffle.

“Lucky for you. I feel like an elephant.”

“Oh, my love, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, I just. Ugh, hormones,” she laughed through her tears and he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing her baby bump as he rested his head on top of hers, wishing his baby girl would kick for him.

The princess watched the adorable interaction and sighed. The more she saw of Ashanti’s pregnancy, the more she realized she would never put herself through that ever in her life. Shuri felt she was destined to be the Cool Aunt, not someone’s mother.

“Well I just came for a snack, I’ll see myself out before the two of you start practicing for baby number two.”

They chuckled, but understood. Lately they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other and oftentimes forgot to tone it down when there were other people in the room.

“We can behave, we promise.”

“Speak for yourself,” T’Challa grumbled into her ear, causing her to giggle.

Shuri wretched loudly as she left the room.

“She’s so easy,” T’Challa laughed at his sister’s habit of disappearing whenever they got too close.

“She’ll be a great auntie though. Imagine her teaching our little girl, she’ll be a genius!”

“Who do you think taught Shuri?” he asked, slightly taken aback. 

“I just sort of assumed she came out the box fully assembled.”

He laughed at her and reached for her plate.

“No, I’ll get it baby, you do so much for me,” she turned around on her stool and gave him a kiss before hopping off and grabbing her plate. Before she made it around the counter T’Challa got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach and she faltered, dropping the dish with a loud crash and fainting into his arms.

When she woke up she was in Shuri’s lab with her midwife, Binta, T’Challa, and Shuri all surrounding her. 

“What happened?”

“You fainted, love,” T’Challa’s voice was shaky.

“Am I...is the-”

“They’re ok, but dear...you have preeclampsia. Your blood pressure is through the roof, it’s amazing this didn’t happen sooner,” the midwife, Ramla, pointed out. “And you’re lucky the king was there or it could have been much worse.”

T’Challa intertwined their fingers and squeezed her hand. She could tell he was shaken up.

“Ok so what now?” the queen asked. Binta grabbed her other hand and looked to both the soon-to-be parents.

“You’re on bedrest, sweetie.”

“What does that mean?”

They all locked eyes with each other in a silent conversation.

“It means we need to keep your stress levels down so you and your baby can stay healthy.”

“You mean, keep me from getting worse…” her voice softened from the emotions welling up inside her.

T’Challa looked to the midwife and she nodded before leading everyone else out of the room. Once they were alone her tears flowed freely and he wiped them away, letting a couple of his own fall right along with hers. 

“You scared me, Kitten,” his hand found its way to his daughter, like always. “I thought I lost you...both of you.” 

“We’re here, baby,” her hand cupped his face and brought his lips down to hers. She kissed him lightly and wiped away his tears now. She knew that although anybody would have been scared in that situation, T’Challa was especially worried about the same thing happening to Ashanti that happened to his mother, and now his worst fears were coming true. She kissed him again and he leaned against the table to get closer. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You better not, I’ll go drag you back myself.”

Ashanti chuckled, but she knew he meant every word.

--------

T’Challa pulled up to the small home on the outskirts of town and parked his hoverbike around back before heading up to the door and knocking. When the door opened he was met with the sight of a short and stout woman with long gray hair braided down her back. Her face lit up when she saw him and her warm eyes crinkled as she smiled. Her smile was short-lived though as she quickly reverted to fussing at him.

“It’s been too long, T’Challa.”

“Yes ma’am, I know. My apologies.”

“Mhm, get in here.” she opened her arms and he came in for one of her famous hugs that made all your problems disappear.

“You should stop by and say hi to your old nanny more often,” Ada chastised him. “But I’m glad to see you. Come in, make yourself at home. Are you hungry? I just finished dinner, I’ll get you a plate.”

He wasn’t, but he knew better than to turn down food from Ada. 

“So what brings the king to my doorstep?”

“Ada, you changed my diapers, I’m not ‘the king’ to you.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong, you were always a king. Plus it’s just so funny to say ‘I used to wash the king’s ass’,” she set down a plate just as he took a seat, both laughing. “So, what’s bothering you?”

“Why does something have to-” 

“Boy please, get to talking.”

He had hoped he could work his way up to the conversation, but Ada could always read him like a book. He let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his seat.

“It’s Ashanti…”

“Hormones driving you crazy already? It’s just going to get worse from here, so strap in.”

“No, well yes, but I can handle her mood swings...mostly. It’s about her health...she was diagnosed with preeclampsia just the other day and I…,” he sighed again and ran his hand down his face.

“I understand,” she said, taking his hand in her much smaller ones. “T’Challa she’s not your mother.” 

“I know that on some level, but it’s the same ailment and I just can’t get those thoughts out of my head.”

“Of course.”

“And she still hasn’t kicked-”

“She? Awwww, you’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“That is what Ashanti and mama say. You all act as though I have no self-control.”

“You won’t once she stares up at you with those big brown eyes and goes ‘pleeease baba’. I’d bet money on it.”

“You three have no faith in me,” he chuckled as he shook his head.

“Oh I have all the faith in the world, dear. You’ll be a great baba, just as I’m sure you are a great husband.”

“I am trying. She’s supposed to be on bedrest relaxing until the baby comes, but you know her.”

“Mmmhm, stubborn as a rhino,” Ada said, head shaking from side to side. “I bet getting her to stay in bed takes an act of Bast.”

“It’s been two weeks and she’s already going stir-crazy. I just wish I could do something, I feel so helpless.”

“All you can do is keep that woman off her feet and away from stressors.”

“Ugh, she lives for stressors. I can’t get her to stop working. You know, she almost went down to Taj’s yesterday.”

Ada let out a belly laugh. She had known Ashanti almost her whole life, too. When her parents opened Zana Cafe, Ashanti would be across the street in her art supply store all the time browsing the aisles and coming up with all kinds of creative ideas. She knew the girl was head-strong, but her downright stubbornness tickled Ada. Ashanti was hard headed just like her umakhulu, and just like her husband.

“You’re not much better. Ramonda told me they basically had to drag you from the throne kicking and screaming when you caught that bug a few years ago. The image in my head is quite hilarious.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic, and I’ve since learned to take days off. If I hadn’t I never would have met Ashanti.”

“Yes, well thank Bast for-”

“Small miracles,” he smiled at her, completing her sentence. She would always say that to him when he was younger, and it stuck with him into adulthood.

“So you did listen to me,” she said with a smirk.

“Of course, more than my own baba at times,” he said sheepishly. “How have you been, Ada?”

“Getting old, but I can’t complain too much.”

“Ada you’re barely 70, you’ve got another 30 years in you.”

“Tell that to my bones,” he waved him off and he chuckled. “I can barely take a step without something aching or rattling.”

“You know, Shuri can help with that. Not the aging, but the pains.”

“I might have to take you up on that. How old is she now, nineteen?”

“Just turned twenty last month.”

“Bast, you kids are getting old. I can’t even call you kids anymore.”

T’Challa smiled warmly at his former nanny, reminiscing on his childhood before taking a bite of his meal.

“Mmm, Ada you’ve outdone yourself.”

“I know,” she winked at him and took a sip of her tea. “So, while you’re here can I get you to change a lightbulb for me?”

“Of course, you don’t have to bribe me with food,” he said and she shrugged, reaching for his plate as he moved it away from her hand. “I’ll take it though.”

T’Challa spent the afternoon with Ada, just catching up and doing odd jobs around her house before he got a call from his wife.

“You’ve been hiding out here all day, you better take that,” Ada warned as he took a deep breath and pressed his communication bead.

“Hello, my love.”

“Hi baby, what are you up to?”

“Visiting someone special,” he turned his beads towards Ada and she sent the queen a wave. Ashanti’s face lit up at seeing the older woman.

“Miss Ada, hi!”

“Well hello miss thing, what’s this I hear about you not listening to the midwife?”

Ashanti glared at T’Challa but he looked off to the side, pretending to care about the wallpaper.

“I’m listening...kind of.”

“Well, ‘kind of’ isn't good enough dear. Our princess there-”

“Challa! You told her?!”

“It slipped out!”

“Can you blame him for being excited?”

“No, I guess not. Oh! The reason I called,” she panned her beads down to her belly, “I think I felt a flutter.”

“Awwww.”

“She kicked?!”

“Not a full kick, just a little movement. Maybe she needs her baba to come sing to her after he picks up some sugared dates from that booth we really like.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled. He knew she had a sweet tooth and had planned to bring her some anyway. They said their goodbyes and T’Challa finished up dusting the fan blades before saying goodbye to Ada, too.

“Don’t let another year go by, T’Challa,” she fussed as he kissed her cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it! Come by the palace for dinner sometime, you know you’re always welcome. I’ll make your favorite,” he sang.

“Well if you’re cooking I’ll be there, just say when.”

“Tomorrow? N’Jadaka’s in town.”

“Oooh I’ll definitely be there. You know, if I were forty years younger I’d be your cousin-in-law.”

“Goodbye, Ada,” he chuckled as he took off on his hoverbike towards the bazaar.

--------

The King and Queen of Wakanda laid in their bed, silently watching trashy reality shows as they spoiled their dinner with sugared dates when T’Challa’s laugh made Ashanti sit up suddenly.

“What’s wrong?!” T’Challa panicked, his hand immediately going to her bump.

“Nothing, I thought I felt something.”

The two of them stayed still waiting to see if their baby girl was finally ready to make herself known. They must have sat there for five minutes before T’Challa gave up hope.

“Maybe next-”

“I felt it again!”

“Where?” 

She moved his hand over to her left side and they locked eyes.

“Say something again…”

“Uh, what do I say?”

“Did you feel that?”

“No, nothing,” his voice was soft as he visibly deflated.

“Hey,” she brought his face back to hers and kissed him softly, “she’ll kick soon, I can feel it...no pun intended.”

He chuckled and kissed her back.

“Maybe try talking to her some more, she seems to like your voice,” she stroked his curls as he laid his head right below her breasts, his large hand rubbing slow circles around her belly.

“Molo isipho sam, it’s your baba. Will you kick for me? Please?”

“Keep going, I feel that flutter again in the same spot.”

He brought his lips down to kiss over it before placing his hand there.

“Come on, baby girl…”

They spent the rest of the night like that, ordering their dinner to be brought to them so T’Challa could continue coaxing his daughter out of hiding. He spent the whole night periodically checking in with her to see if anything had changed, but she just wasn’t ready to kick yet. He was a little hurt, but was happy to know she responded to his voice. Even as Ashanti drifted off to sleep he continued to talk to his little girl about nothing and everything before wrapping his arms around his wife and following her to dreamland.

--------

T’Challa sat up from the dirt and looked around, confused by his surroundings. His heart beat out of his chest when he saw the far-off acacia tree filled with panthers.

“Relax, son, you’re not dead.”

His head jerked to the side and he locked eyes with N’Yami.

“Wh...how am I here?”

“Bast’s will. And I wanted to talk to you, unyana,” she reached out her hand to him and he took it, rising from the ground and dusting himself off. 

“Is something wrong? Is it Ashanti? The baby?!”

N’Yami chuckled, “No, it is you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’re going to worry yourself to death about this pregnancy.”

“I’m just concerned about-“

“History repeating itself...I know, that’s why I brought you here,” she said with a smile before grabbing his hand, “walk with me, son.”

The two of them strolled along the plane in relative silence until they came upon the same lake Taj brought Ashanti to when she was in her coma. N’Yami waved her hand across the water and as the ripples travelled across the surface they carried an image with them. T’Challa could see himself asleep with his wife, chest rising and falling in rhythm.

“See? Not dead. Now look at this.”

She waved her hand across it in the other direction and another image came to view of T’Challa and Ashanti walking with a little girl teetering between them, holding their hands while she looked up at her baba. Much like his dreams of Ashanti before they met, he couldn’t make out his daughter’s face, but the sight of the three of them together warmed his heart. He felt his entire body relax, releasing tension he didn’t even realize he was holding on to. A big, lopsided smile took over his whole face and N’Yami looked on with pride as they both watched him with his family.

“I can’t see her face, but she’s beautiful,” he said in awe of his daughter. “Can you tell me her name?”

N’Yami chuckled, “It is not Bast’s will for me to do so...but you should know, the two of you chose well.” She winked and he smirked at her cryptic answer before turning his attention back to his daughter. 

He could have sat there all night watching her, but he knew he’d have to get back to the plane of the living soon enough so he tried to commit every detail he could to his memory. 

“Thank you for this, mama,” he hugged her and kissed her temple. They stayed like that for a few moments until N’Yami pulled away and looked at her son with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“You should also know, she is a very special child...as is your wife.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” she said with a snap of her fingers. T’Challa opened his eyes to see he was back in his bed with Ashanti, very much alive and sated with knowing his girls would be fine.

Just as he was about to get his day started, Ashanti rolled over and threw her leg across him before nuzzling into his side. He placed his arm around her and his other hand rested on her bump. Ashanti’s light snores filled the air as he rubbed her belly in circles with a smile on his face, thinking back to his dream. It was a little fuzzy, but he remembered seeing his birth mother and deep down he was no longer worried about Ashanti and their princess. As Ashanti slept he let his mind wander to thoughts of their future. Would they have more children? When would they step down? When would he let her take over being the Black Panther?

“So many questions, little one,” he mused aloud as he sighed, but his eyes quickly lit up at feeling the smallest little tremor right under his hand. 

“So you do like my voice, eh?” he felt it again and Ashanti shifted next to him, undoubtedly feeling the movement as well.

“Wake up, Kitten,” he whispered in her ear and a smile spread across her face before her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Watch this.”

He lowered himself to her belly and his eyes flitted back up to Ashanti.

“How was your sleep?”

“It- Bast! Did you feel that? You had to have felt that one.”

He nodded with a goofy smile on his face, “Just a little bit.”

Tears came to Ashanti’s eyes as she sat up in bed. More came and T’Challa grew concerned, pulling her into his arms.

“What is it, uthando? Talk to me,” he tilted her chin towards his face and wiped her tears before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I was worried something was wrong since she hadn’t moved yet,” the queen sniffled.

“She’s ok, just a late bloomer,” the smile returned to his face as he felt movement beneath his palm.

“She really loves her baba.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Uh-uh,” she leaned in to kiss him, slipping her tongue past his lips.

“Kitten…” he warned, “The midwife said-”

“Ugh I know what she said, but I’m horny as fuck. That’s gotta be another stressor or something, right?”

He laughed at her insistence. “Only if you choose to stress about it, my love. Don’t make me call Binta...or Bisa.”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Wouldn’t I? You won’t listen to me, so-,” he pretended to reach for his beads.

“Ok fine!” Ashanti pouted and T’Challa chuckled at her bratty behavior.  

“You act like I don’t miss it, too. Trust me, the second you’re all healed up, you’re in for it.”

With that he got out of bed and padded his way to the shower, turning it on to their desired temperature and catching a glimpse of her out the corner of his eye as she walked into the bathroom, yawning. When she turned towards the shower his jaw could have dropped.

“You get more beautiful every day,” he pulled her in and his fingers trailed down the dark line down the middle of her stomach as she rolled her eyes. “What? I’m serious, look at you.”

He pulled her in front of the full-length mirror in the shower and stood behind her with his head on top of hers and his arms in their usual place on the underside of her belly. He studied her round face as she squirmed in his arms.

“Challaaaa,” she whined and poked out her lip, “I don’t feel like it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to explain it...I just don’t feel like it’s my body anymore. I don’t feel like myself, I don’t feel beautiful or sexy or any of that stuff you tell me. I just feel...sick that this body that’s supposed to keep my baby safe and do all these wonderful things could harm her instead,” she didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt T’Challa’s thumbs on her cheeks. She buried her head in his chest and sobbed as he stroked her back. “This was supposed to be a beautiful experience and it just sucks. Plus I’m constantly horny but I can’t even have sex with my hot ass husband. I fucking hate preeclampsia.”

“Me too, Kitten,” he sighed and she pulled back to look at him. She hadn’t really considered how he felt in all this, understandably wrapped up in her own web of emotions. “She will be fine though, I just know it. You both will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He grabbed the loofah and squirted some of her black soap bodywash into the middle before lathering her up.

“Last night, I had a dream but it’s sort of fuzzy. N’Yami was there and...I think she gave me a glimpse into our future. I don’t remember what I saw, but I woke up happy.”

A slight smile appeared on her face.

“And as for the sex, well the midwife said if we can get your blood pressure down it’s a maybe...so let’s focus on keeping you relaxed, ok?”

Ashanti nodded before he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on his. “Because I miss my pussy,” he kissed her passionately before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “You walking around here looking like this while I can’t touch you is gonna come back to haunt you later, trust me. I know you don’t see it right now, but you look like Bast herself.”

T’Challa knelt down to wash her legs and feet and she moaned at the feeling of being pampered by him. He chuckled and rose to his full height before she began washing his body in return. He stopped her when she began to kneel, but she got down anyway.

He had missed how she looked from that angle and she tried her best to ignore his thickening member right in front of her face. He had just taken care of her, what harm could it do to return the favor?

She looked up at him with a playful look in her eye and just as he registered what she was going to do, his dick was already halfway down her throat.

Her head bobbed up and down his length as he leaned back against the shower wall, sloppy sucking noises filling the air. His hand palmed the back of her head, but didn’t push. It just stayed there, riding out the waves of pleasure shooting through him.

Her tongue explored the head of his dick as her left hand fondled his balls while her right hand stroked his shaft. He let out a loud moan when she took him all the way in and swallowed around him, deepening the suction as she did her damndest to suck the cum right out of him.

“K-kitten, mmm. Let me cum on that pretty face of yours,” he growled out. She removed her lips from him with a pop, but a trail of spit still connected her to him.

“Ewe Kumkani,” she said as she stroked his dick with both hands. “I hear you at night, in here stroking your dick because you can’t fuck me. Let me do it for you, baby.”

“Mmmhm,” was all he could say as her grip tightened around his length and her other hand cupped his balls, making his cum shoot out and paint her face.

“Stay just like that,” he grabbed his beads from outside the shower and pointed them towards her. She smiled as he snapped a picture of her covered in his essence. He helped her up from the floor and kissed her before they finished their shower and went their separate ways for the day: T’Challa to the throne room and Ashanti to the couch to catch another trashy tv marathon.

--------

“Are you sure you feel up to this? We can cancel if we need to,” T’Challa fretted as he put on her shoes for her since she couldn’t reach her feet anymore. She was eight months pregnant with their active little girl and was finally getting to have some fun for the first time since she was placed on bedrest. 

“Challa, we’re not cancelling my party. We’ll be fine, remember?” She alluded to his dream from several weeks ago as she took his head in her hand and brought it to her face for a kiss.

“I know, I just want you to be comfortable.”

“What’s more comfortable than being showered with gifts and praise?”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead then her nose then her lips.  He reached for his beads and she stopped him.

“If you call for that transport chair, I swear to Bast-”

“It’s too far for you to walk, my love.”

“It’s just downstairs, I’ll be fine if we walk slowly.”

T’Challa agreed before holding out his arm for her and the two of them leisurely walked downstairs to join their friends and family that awaited them for a small party in Ashanti and baby’s honor.

When they walked in they were met with the smiling faces of their loved ones all around the beautifully decorated living area. Ashanti’s eyes watered at the sight and everyone smiled empathetically at her tears. Bisa approached her daughter and led her to the throne she never gets to sit in anymore, what with being bedridden and all. They had it brought upstairs for the night just so she could sit on it like the proper queen she is.

“Look familiar?” Chidi joked as she sat down gingerly.

“Barely, I forgot what it looked like!” 

Everyone laughed and she looked around, confused.

“Where’s yours?” she asked her husband.

“Today is not about me, it’s about the queen.”

“Nah we got some stuff for you too, you just don’t get a throne,” N’Jadaka shouted from the kitchen, looking over the snack table before his auntie pulled him away.

T’Challa chuckled and made himself comfortable in a normal chair next to her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of how she looked sitting on that throne. Ashanti looked more regal than ever and he fell in love all over again. She caught him staring and he sent her a wink, so she sent him one right back.

Zina giggled at their interaction and Ashanti turned to ask her about the shop when T’Challa stopped her, “No work today, uthando.”

“How did you-”

“I know you,” he turned to their loved ones, “So, what now?”

“Now I get gifts,” Ashanti said with a devilish smirk on her face, making the room erupt in laughter.

“That you do dear, and I think your parents wanted to go first,” Ramonda stated, moving out the way so they could get to their daughter.

They were both already fighting tears as they hugged their baby girl tight. When they pulled back, Chidi handed her a gift wrapped box that she quickly tore into. When she removed the lid, she paused.

“Was this-”

“Yours, mhm. It’s your baby blanket,”  Bisa sniffled as Ashanti pulled the woven blanket from the box, tracing her fingers over the symbols and fighting tears of her own. She handed it to T’Challa and he looked over it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Ada was next, pulling a stuffed panther from behind her back. 

“I made it myself,” she bragged as both of the soon-to-be-parents’ faces lit up. 

“Miss Ada, it’s beautiful!”

“Nothing but the best for our future prince or princess,” she said with a wink. So far she was the only person who knew the gender besides the two of them and they wanted to keep it that way for now.

One by one, their loved ones presented them with gifts for the baby and parents. N’Jadaka got the baby a tiny pair of limited edition Jordans, Zina and Jafari made the baby a little Taj’s apron and an IOU to paint a family portrait once the baby arrives, and Shuri made a bassinet that could track the baby’s vital signs and growth. M’Baku and Shani gifted them with furs to keep the baby warm when they visited their aunt and uncle in the mountains. Nakia got the future monarch hand-sewn vibranium cloth diapers, sure to keep in whatever messes they made. Naturally, Okoye gave them a small practice spear, and Steve and Bucky sent a box of Cuban cigars for T’Challa to crack open after the birth. However, Kwame and Binta’s gift was apparently not to be opened in public since it was “for when that pussy heals.” 

Ramonda purposefully went last, handing them a storybook of Wakandan folktales.

“Open it,” she said to T’Challa with a gleam in her eye.

He cracked it open and the kimoyo bead lodged in the spine of the book activated. A voice rang out that hadn’t been heard in years.

“One day, Ari the panther was out walking by the river when she looked up and saw a monkey swinging from the tree above…”

“H-how?” T’Challa choked out as Ashanti reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“He had the idea a long time ago and figured he should go ahead and do it ‘just in case’.”

Everyone, aside from N’Jadaka, who would truly never forgive his uncle in life or death, was misty-eyed. 

“Now they can know their umakhulu, even if it is just his voice.” 

“Thank you, mama. Thank you all, this has been…” his voice trailed off as his eyes found their way back to the storybook.

“You don’t have to thank us, we do it because we love you. All three of you.”

The little party continued through the night, with Ashanti on her throne looking to her loved ones with a smile on her face. Her right hand almost never left her bump as she thought about all the love their little girl would be surrounded by her whole life. She was lost in her thoughts for a moment before yawning and bringing herself back to the present. 

Bisa caught the tail end of it and shook her head, “Someone’s tired.”

“This is the most excitement I’ve had in months,” Ashanti chuckled “I guess I just can’t hang anymore.”

“You’ll get back to it once baby…” Chidi trailed off, hoping a name would slip out one of the parents’ mouths. “Oh, come on!”

“We haven’t even picked a name yet, baba. Actually,” she looked to T’Challa for confirmation and he gave a slight nod, “we were wondering if you all could each give us one suggestion.”

“No playing favorites, though!” Kwame pointed out, making everyone else nod along in agreement.

“Yes, you should not pick my suggestion just because it is mine, but because it is obviously the best,” M’Baku grinned from his corner of the room and Shani rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics.

“Everyone, text me your suggestions and I’ll send them over. I already gave them a name the other day,” Shuri offered the group and her beads already started buzzing before she could finish her sentence. About a minute later, all the names were in and Shuri sent them off to Ashanti’s and T’Challa’s beads. “There you go. Have fun picking my name anyway.”

As the group argued amongst themselves about whose name would win, Ashanti leaned into her husband and whispered in his ear, “I love this, but I can’t keep my eyes open and Baby Girl is cranky and won’t stop kicking. Can we go?”

T’Challa leaned down and kissed her belly, “Princess, be nice to your mama.”

The kicking stopped and Ashanti glared at T’Challa.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to do?”

“Apparently,” he shrugged and kissed her temple before standing up. “Let’s go, love.”

He reached out his hand and she grabbed onto it, rising from her throne.

“Thank you everybody. I love you all, but I can’t stay awake any longer or I might just pass out.”

“Go get some rest, dear,” Ramonda kissed her cheek before turning and kissing her son’s. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

The couple said their goodbyes and went back to their quarters. They quickly got undressed and slid into bed, immediately getting into their usual position as of late with Ashanti curled into his side with her leg thrown over him and his hand resting softly on her bump. However, the princess wasn’t ready to go to sleep after today’s excitement.

“Challa, tell your daughter to go to sleep, mama’s tired,” she whined as her child turned cartwheels in her womb.

He scooted down to her belly and placed a kiss on it, rubbing the sides and softly singing a lullaby his baba used to sing to him. He remembered that it always knocked him out, and apparently it worked for his wife and child, too. They were both out within minutes and he smiled at a job well done.

--------

Around 1am, Ashanti got up to go to the bathroom, as usual, but when she got back in bed she just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. T’Challa’s light snores filled the room as Ashanti sat up in bed, rubbing her belly and thinking about what their future would be like when she felt a wetness between her legs.

“The fuck?” She stood up and saw a wet spot on the bed that reminded her of the fun times she and T’Challa had in the past. However, while she was still the culprit, this time it was a little different.

She waddled her way to the bathroom and wiped herself up, but it kept slowly leaking out of her.

“This is it, she’s coming,” she said aloud to no one in particular with a smile on her face before waddling back to the bed and shaking the sleepy king awake.

“Mmm, ice cream or peanuts tonight?”

“Neither.”

His eyes opened slowly and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Ok, do you want me to cook something?”

Ashanti giggled, “No...I think the baby’s coming-”

“What?! She’s early-”

“- but don’t panic, Binta said we have plenty of time from when my water breaks to when I actually start active labor.” She grabbed his hand, “Yes she’s early, but so were we. Calm down baby.”

T’Challa nodded, trying to remember anything Binta or Ramla had said over the last few months, but drawing blanks every time. “Ok, so what now?”

“First, I’m going to take a shower-”

“But-”

She held up her finger, silencing his protest.

“I’m going to shower before the serious contractions kick in, then we can talk about names. Binta said it’s all about staying comfortable until it’s go-time.”

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win the argument. “I’m coming with you.”

The two of them showered together and T’Challa kept a watchful eye on her as her face twisted in discomfort at the cramps coming from her womb.

“Are you sure this is ok?” 

Ashanti pulled him down and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m sure.”

They finished up their shower and he covered her in cocoa butter before doing the same thing to himself. T’Challa then stripped the sheets from the bed and the two of them laid down, pulling up the list of names on their beads. They argued over a few of them and one was already on their list, but one of the names stood out to both of them and they finally came to an agreement just as Ashanti’s contractions intensified.

“Ok we should start timing them,” she said through gritted teeth.

T’Challa nodded and set the stopwatch on his beads before texting Binta and updating her on Ashanti’s progress. Ashanti climbed out of bed and started walking around, one hand supporting her lower back and the other on the underside of her belly. T’Challa felt helpless as he watched her face contort in pain again, and looked down at his beads.

“Twenty minutes.”

Ashanti labored in their room for another hour or so before the contractions reached ten minutes apart and they transported her to the royal birthing chamber.

The birth was a blur. All Ashanti remembered was the feel of the warm water and her husband’s solid body behind her. She knew there had to have been pain, but seeing her daughter’s face when they laid her on her chest made it all disappear. Her parents wept when they first saw her and her first cries were music to their ears.

“Does she have a name?” Ramla asked as Binta wiped the new mother’s forehead with tears streaming down her face, too.

T’Challa spoke without tearing his eyes away from his daughter, “Siyanda. Her name is Siyanda.”

After Ashanti delivered the placenta, Ramla and Binta helped the new family out of the tub and into the bed. Ashanti’s eyes could barely stay open, so she fell asleep and T’Challa took his daughter into his arms.

“Hello, my princess,” she opened her eyes and stared up at her baba for the first time, causing his breath to catch in his throat. She had his mother’s eyes.

A little yawn escaped her tiny mouth and he was amazed as though he had never seen a yawn before. Every little thing she did blew his mind and as she yawned again he realized she was waiting on him.

He chuckled before shaking his head, “Oh I know what you want.”

He quietly cleared his throat and began singing to her softly, watching as she drifted off to sleep just like her mother.

“Isn't she lovely?

Isn't she wonderful?

Isn't she precious?

Less than one minute old

I never thought through love we'd be

Making one as lovely as she

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Isn't she pretty?

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy

We have been heaven blessed

I can't believe what Bast has done

Through us She's given life to one

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Isn't she lovely?

Life and love are the same

Life is Siyanda

The meaning of her name

Ashanti, it could have not been done

Without you who conceived the one

That's so very lovely made from love”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall, @dersha89

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 27

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mention of weapons 

A/N:  more musical references ... who would’ve thought? but now i’m also adding disney references bc referencing is my passion (unless it’s for essays, then screw referencing). also i’m very sorry for being late with this chapter something happened last night and i couldn’t finish it. i hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six ...  - a choir of two voices echoed through the reading room in the Forrest household with one being significantly deeper while the other much higher and almost baby like. However if asked, Y/N would solely deny that being.5 made her a baby and she would constantly put five fingers up in pride of her young age. Accompanying the two voices, there was the soft sound of the very old piano which had been with the Forrest family for more than a century - sept, huit, neuf.

   - Fantastic. Play the last three notes for me by yourself this time. - Daniel smiled at the much younger Y/N dressed in a hand-me down white ruffled dress with her hair pushed out of the way by a velvet white string. Y/N giggled, her babyish laughter echoing through the room before she could concentrate on the keys of the piano, her fingers pressing the same combination as just before. 

   - Sept, huit, neuf ... Sept, huit, neuf. - her fingers played through the keys as her still very badly spoken French came through but that was the life of a lady who was to grow up to stand next to an heiress; educated in the arts and languages, polite and classic, a picture and reflection of true perfection. Fake it until you make it, it’s what her governess told her constantly. - Sept, huit, neuf. 

  - One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. - Daniel joined in with a lower key, quickly playing through the keys and ending at the nine making Y/N smile in relief. Whenever he changed to English it normally meant the lesson was over and while Y/N loved music, she didn’t enjoy it for three hours straight in the early morning. - You know birdie, whenever you don’t wanna be somewhere try to pretend you do.

  - It’s too early. - she whined, head leaned against the keys of the very expensive shiny black instrument. 

  - Alright, birdie, go on a do whatever it is you do in your free time.

Before he could even shut down the piano’s hood, Y/N was already on her feet, the small sounds of new tiny shoes becoming further and further as she exited the reading room and bolted towards the attic. At 5 years old, the young handmaid had mastered a way to get the high door open by using two tennis rackets tied together with one of her hair strings. After doing this, the stairs came collapsing down allowing her to climb them into the attic. 

Looking around like a squirrel afraid of being caught, she returned to the pile of boxes she had found when she was rummaging through whatever had been left there. She wasn’t entirely sure who it belonged to or what it was but she was convinced that it was filled with something that looked pretty enough to belong to a princess. Opening the first box she came face to face with a gold coloured head piece. Curiously, she grabbed it from the box rushing over to a pretty old mirror with already dark spots and a bit of browning. Curiously, she lifted up the headpiece, placing it on her head. Her eyes seemed to wander around her reflection before the headpiece started to slide down, a bit too big of her. Before it could reach the floor, however, Y/N grabbed it, noticing a few letters on the in the piece. 

 - Y/N, the French tutor is here. 

 - I’m going. 

Y/N watched as Sebastian in awe as he cooked her cheese toastie. Sure, a cheese toastie wasn’t a culinary masterpiece and it was the furthest thing from being a hard task, still she was just entranced by the sight imagining what things could be. Dreaming is a dangerous two edged swords allowing you to envision everything your heart desires yet having the power to keep it as further yet close enough to reach but never have. She could almost see it, she could almost see and hear the future that would never be. With eyes wandering to the piano in the living room, she could see and hear being sat at the piano teaching her child how to play while Sebastian made his cheese toasties in the kitchen. Yet again dreams aren’t reality, reality is much more bitter and unforgiven. 

    - Look at that, unburned. - Sebastian slide a perfectly white porcelain plate towards her containing the delicious snack. 

    - I’m rather scared that burning is your only evaluating tool for cooking. - she tried to hold in a little child-like smile but her muscles had more strength. - Thank you.

    - Well, angel, unless you can cook better than me I believe you have no right in criticising. - he took a seat very close to her, choosing to instead stare at her rather than eat along with her. At that comment Y/N scoffed, giving him a look that made him question his statement and wonder if she was some sort of hidden stellar cook. 

   - I would say I can, at least, cook better than you. 

   - What can’t you do? You’re like this untouchable Edwardian woman. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is so effortlessly ready to be in high society.

   - I don’t belong in high society. - she seemed to stare blankly at the wall of the kitchen and how perfectly straight the back splash had been placed. Every single square perfectly placed yet not noticeable by its own, unless bringing perfection to the whole piece itself. - You just have to pretend you do. No one in this business is gonna give their daughter up to be standing next to someone who’s bound to inherit an empire ... you said yourself, if they shoot at an heiress they’ll shoot at you too. It’s more like picking someone off the street and dressing them up just good enough that you believe they’re untouchable. 

   - You don’t give yourself enough credit. 

   - I think you just see me through rose coloured glasses. - she took a bite off the sandwich. - You know what? That’s pretty good. 

   - Thanks, angel. - he kissed the top of her head. - Hey, how about we do something you really like tonight? 

   - No. - she held his hand. - Let’s do something you like to do. We never do something you like to do, why don’t you pick?

   - Angel, I don’t think you’d enjoy it. 

  - It can’t be that bad. - she put what was left from the sandwich in the plate, wiping her hands clean from the grease. -  You do what I want all the time. 

  - I like making you happy, angel. - he leaned towards her, placing a soft and quick kiss on top of her nose. - Besides, you haven’t made me do anything particularly torturous. 

  - No. - she crossed her arms at him, jumping from her high seat. - We are doing something you like doing tonight. 

  - Okay, angel. Let’s go then. 

There was no denying her, or at least he hadn’t built a backbone to deny her yet. Nevertheless, he took her back to the garage yet instead of walking into the unit they had just been in, both of them kept walking and walking passing various units with various numbers, probably belonging to other tenants. He finally stopped in front of an abnormally large unit which had a pin code pad. Quickly and almost mechanically he put the code in which made the door unlock allowing him the open it up. Stepping inside, this unit was way more organised than the last one with what looked like a small version of a shooting range. A mob boss liking to shoot ... original. 

  - Do the neighbours not complain about the noise? - she wondered out loud. 

  - Soundproof walls. - he gave her his regular pearly white smile, taking a pair of noise cancelling headphones and googles from the wall. - Besides, it’s my building. 

  - I’m sure someone probably has complained. - she teased as he put a pair of googles on her face. - Have you ever shot a gun, angel?

  - I did archery in school. - she shrugged. Gwen and Dan usually went for the shooting range back when they were younger but Y/N was always one to take that time to herself and stay home either practicing for her lessons or reading. Besides, she was entirely sure she didn’t even know how a gun worked. - Didn’t have a good aim.

 - Well, this it’s not entirely like archery. - he opened a black panel, grabbing a matte black revolver before handing it to her. Y/N, however, stared at it untrusting of the object. - You’ve grown up with the mob, don’t tell you’ve never touched a gun. 

 - They told me not to and I enjoy following rules. - Y/N crossed her arms, defensive of her statement which made Sebastian smirk. - Besides, what if I touched it and it accidentally shot me? 

 - It’s locked, angel. - he placed the revolver in front of the circle target so he could put the noise cancelled headphones on her, leaving it just spaced enough so he could still talk to her. - Besides, maybe you should know how to defend yourself.

 - Okay. - still a bit guarded, she picked up the weapon, placing herself in line with the target while Sebastian was by her side. 

 - It’s a quick-lock system. - he helped her unlock the gun. - Now, regularly most of the ones in the mob have a quick-lock system so if you’re eve ...

 - I don’t wanna think about it. - the memory of the gunshot from earlier had her not in the mood to think about danger. Maybe there was imminent danger to avoiding the probability of her being hurt but half her mind wanted to believe that people wouldn’t shot at her. Sebastian tightened his lips, changing his narrative. - What if it shoot you by accident?

 - Angel, that is pointing nowhere near me. - he tapped her elbow. - Eyes on the target and pull the trigger. 

Y/N swallowed in dry, looking up from the gun to the bullseye before pulling the trigger. The sound didn’t hit her as hard due to the headphones but she still took a step back out of surprised followed by an upset moan due to the fact the bullet had hit the furthest place from the target. 

  - Right... - Sebastian placed himself behind her, arms coming up to her, almost mirroring her position so he could move her arms and overall aim in the right position. - Take a deep breathe, pick your target, concentrate and shoot. 

  - Okay. - she took a deep breath, feeling his skin too close to her in a way which almost made her too weak on the knees to concentrate on the target. Nevertheless, she focused on the bullseye, pressing the trigger which caused a back/forward motion and the bullet when straight into the target making her eyes and smile widen as her ego swelled up with pride. She turned around, pulling Sebastian into a hug. - I did it!

Sebastian locked the revolver, placing it back on the table before returning to a very enthusiastic Y/N yet not very excited to do it again. Nevertheless, Sebastian was happy she at least knew how to use a weapon, just in case. As he opened his mouth to say something, his phone started to ring. God, just fantastic. Sighing in defeat, he put his phone on to his hear, a fairly familiar yet annoying voice coming through. Y/N watched in confusion, not entirely sure who was at the phone but from what she could manage from his words it seemed like he was getting an invite which he was very against. After what felt like a good 5 or 10 minutes of speaking on the phone, begrudgingly he turned his phone off, looking at Y/N with a look which was very indescribable.  

  - Are you okay? - she took a few steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, one of her hands coming to brush his hair soothingly. - Who was it?

  - Gwen. She’s spending New Years at the Ritz and she wants you to go. 

  - The Ritz? I thought she was going to Monaco. 

 - Seems like she decided to stay in New York and wants you and me there for good measure. 

 - I know for a fact she does not enjoy your company? Why the sudden change of heart?

 - We are getting married in two weeks, angel. I would call it PR but then again, what hasn’t been PR with the two of us?

 - Oh ... right ... the wedding. - sometimes Y/N forgot that she was very much involved with a man stuck in his engagement. It wasn’t like he could break it, that was a death sentence and probably the biggest mistake he could make. However, she still didn’t know how she was gonna handle it. Maybe Mr. Forrest was right, maybe she should go to Paris after all of this was over, maybe she should just start to distance herself but how could she distance herself from someone who is just so magnetic without even trying? How do you ignore a magnetic pull? - Well, I guess we should pack ... again. 

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[littlesparklight]

How do you imagine Helen and Paris' relationship was during the war? Did they sleep together and all that? Did she and Andromache develop a friendship?

Hope I haven't already asked you that before

No one has, so no worries!

The longer it went on I imagine it might have become longer and longer between sleeping together, whether or not they kept on sharing a bed. They still did sleep together even late - I honestly don't get the feeling That Episode in the Iliad is out of the norm even late in the war, the difference is that Aphrodite has put her sticky little hands all over it and this is happening in the middle of day with the armies outside and what turns into literal fighting while they're banging. (Getting to turn your brain off at night from all the pressure and worries with sex was probably something both of them liked, to be honest.)

In general... like, I think this ties in a lot with that Paris' focus is entirely different than most other men in the sort of society the Iliad is taking place in, and his gifts come from Aphrodite. This doesn't just mean he is terribly attractive (like a number of select Trojan princes have been) and charming as well as good at fucking (and probably pretty adventurous and willing to try things), he's good at talking, too. He's personable (I read this in an article recently and it struck right with me; Paris needs to be personable enough to be able to tempt Helen); he's very good at being diverting. They both are (check out how Helen talks in general, what little we see of it), they've probably spent a lot of time talking about all and nothing, and the thing is, aside from her servants/slaves, the longer the war goes on, the less other people does Helen have to turn to for actual interaction.

Even when she was at her most displeased with Paris she probably ended up talking with him, quite a lot, and had a moment of peace from that (which, undoubtedly, just made her angrier at herself when Paris left to do whatever).

For the bit about Andromache - this is another reason why I think there should be more years than just the ten, even for as how much more tragic that makes everything late in the war. It gives Helen a chance to start out making herself at home at Troy, everyone (maybe a little cautiously for some) welcoming her - she's charming and witty and, well, personable, as well as very socially savvy and aware of how to use social signs and respectability to her advantage, so why wouldn't they? Andromache would probably be a very great possibility, for someone who's also very recently arrived and new at Troy, so they'd probably gravitate together. And considering how practical/frank Andromache is, thinking about more than just "acceptable" womanly tasks, yeah, I think they would have become friends.

(And this has nothing to do with anything but I like the idea of Kassandra bonding to/with Helen as an older sister of sorts, because I think Kassandra would be pretty young when Paris brings Helen to Troy. And considering everything, and Helen being as aware as she is, she's probably one of the few who are still trying very hard to be accepting and make Kassandra feel normal (even if she, too, can't believe whenever Kassandra says something prophetic).)

[jerryb2]

In my ongoing quest to create the ultimate Expanded Universe® Grand Master® Luke Skywalker® Lightsaber® (shut up, that’s totally my latest quest 👀), here we have some side-by-side pics of the ROTJ Luke V2 & V3 sabers, as well as the MK1 for scale and reference.

I’ve just recently added the blade plug to the V3, as well as replacing the original D-Ring on the pommel with one that has a more rounded shape, which I personally think looks better. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. 😎

Breaking character for a moment though; ever since I learned about the different versions of Luke’s Lightsaber I’ve been sort of mulling over a metanarrative that I’d like to share (this’ll take a while, so strap in):

For those that might not know, Luke’s lightsaber from Return of the Jedi has a complicated history, to say the least; there are actually multiple screen-used lightsaber props for Luke in ROTJ. If nothing else, this simple fact serves as a testament to the sheer disorganization of the early Star Wars films. In general, movie scenes are rarely shot in sequential order - in fact, they’re shot in an order that’s the most cost-effective. Pressed for time, and shooting the climactic throne room duel with Darth Vader early in the production, the prop department was forced to re-purpose several "stunt sabers" and turn them into on-camera props. These were originally FX/stunt sabers for Ben Kenobi (the MK1) in ANH, and that had since been repurposed so that the actors could practice with them. There’s some really neat footage out there of Mark Hamill and Bob Anderson (Vader’s stunt double) practicing the fight from ESB where Mark is actually using the V2. This led to the V2, V3, Yuma and later, the Hero versions of the same (technically) lightsaber. This also goes a long way to explain why Luke & Ben’s sabers have such a similar profile. How did no one notice this for literally decades? Well, when you take into account that there was no such thing as a high-definition picture, as well as the fact that most kids watched the OT on VHS tapes in the late 80′s and early 90′s, you can start to see why the filmmakers weren’t too worried about smaller details like that. 

It was a different time - and in that way - worse. 

If we look at the V2 (that is, the one with the gaffer tape around the neck and the overall aesthetic of ‘let’s just get this over with’) we see something that fits the part it played in ROTJ; a weapon made by a burgeoning Jedi Knight, who was probably just glad that it didn’t blow up in his face when he hit the activation plate. For my money though, I’d say that this is Luke’s saber for only a few days to a week, at most. 

For anyone who hasn’t read Shadows of the Empire, here’s a brief aside; Luke built his lightsaber using plans he found in Ben Kenobi’s Hut on Tatooine, hence an in-universe reason why the sabers look so similar. After losing to Vader on Cloud City, Luke and his allies spent the next several months recuperating and making plans to rescue Han from Jabba the Hutt. During this time, Luke was able to scrounge the parts necessary to build his new lightsaber; a high-energy reflector cup, diatium power cell and a focusing lens, etc. The only thing he needed to complete his blade was the main crystal. Due to a lack of resources (thanks to Old Palpy himself), Luke was forced to use a synthetic crystal. After a solid month of work, he finally completed his saber and it’s here where we more-or-less meet the narrative of the film. There are dozens of pictures that depict Luke fighting on the sail barge, on Endor and on the Second Death Star - and in the vast majority of them, he’s holding the V2.

So where does the V3 come in, within the context of this story? 

Well, after the conclusion of ROTJ and the events of the next several days as depicted in The Truce at Bakura, I would imagine that Luke took some time to reevaluate his saber. Maybe it had begun to malfunction? Maybe the insulation wasn’t properly protecting the power source from the superconductor after all? Or maybe he was just slightly embarrassed that his (not-so) shiny new Jedi weapon had a strip of tape holding it together? The point is, I would imagine that he probably made a trip or two down to the ol’ hangar bay and had a chat with one of the chief mechanics, who was then able to procure some slightly higher-quality components.

The gaff tape is outta there; it doesn’t provide proper insulation and it just doesn’t befit the only Jedi Knight left in the whole galaxy. After the insulator was properly (re)installed, it’s conceivable that Luke took the neck to a milling machine and polished it to expose the metal underneath, revealing its copper-brass color. For that matter, Luke probably gave the whole thing a good once over with some steel wool. Now at least it doesn’t look like a Bantha shat it out after an evening meal. And as it turns out, with proper dimetris circuitry, he doesn’t need the nipple on top of the emitter to stabilize the blade, so he just removed it.

That’s the way it probably stayed for several years; it looked more polished and was properly functional. It would still have the long clamp lever and the unique circuit card over the activation plate, as well as the cone knob and mystery chunk, but we’re already starting to look more like the V3. Then we get to the Thrawn Campaign and shortly after, Operation Shadow Hand with the reborn Emperor. After these threats had passed, we do know (via The Jedi Academy Trilogy) that Luke spent some time contemplating his place/role in the galaxy - it was shortly after this that he decided to establish the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin IV, after all. 

By now the clamp lever is getting a bit sad; probably more trouble that it’s worth to replace just the clamp lever, so why not replace the whole thing? And that clamp card is pretty grotty, so it’s time to fix that. And I would imagine that he would be a bit tired of having the cone knob & mystery chunk cutting into his hand (I can relate, fam) so let’s just rework that booster. What we come away with is something that looks almost bang-on like the stock Rudy Pando V3; no emitter nipple, copper wind vane, new activation card and clamp, and no extra greeblies. 

From then on his saber stays pretty much the same for a couple of decades....until he recovers it from UnuThul/Lomi Plo after The Dark Nest crisis. 

Now, because we know that Luke did build a replacement after UnuThul confiscated his first saber (one which apparently looked almost identical to his OG saber - sure, okay, Troy Denning), I think this is where the Hero saber enters the narrative. Most likely only a short time after he claimed the title of Grand Master of the Order (around the time when the Jedi were preparing to launch an all-out attack on the Dark Nest and thus the newly minted GM would need a functioning saber), I’d like to think that Luke let his natural mechanical ability and technical knowhow run a bit wild - he builds a very close facsimile of his saber, but this time with a proper control box and indicator lights, better basic construction, etc. Once he recovered his original saber, I don’t think it would be out of the question for him to carry over a few design tweaks he had just made with the Hero. Notably, he added back the nipple on the emitter - in the long run, it’s just better to have it since it prevents power bleed-off (or something - lads, I’m literally pulling all of this out of me arse) and more than anything, because it improves the overall profile. And on top of that, it looks like he added some mesh coverings to some of the heat venting ports(?), probably to prevent grime or dirt from building up over time. Smart man, that Luke Skywalker.

And at last, we have arrived at the construction we see in the pictures above; this is (for me) Luke’s saber as he carries it in his duels with both Darth Cadeus & Lumiya, when he goes into (more-or-less) self-imposed exile and through to when he confronts Abeloth and eventually becomes one with the Force.

This has been my TED Talk. Thank you for coming. 😅

Oh, and because I suspect that some of the more eagle-eyed readers out there will be wondering - where does the Yuma fit into all this? Well hey, this is my metanarrative. Go make your own. 😉