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otptings · 4 years ago

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Moonlight

♤Idol; Johnny Suh ♤Genre; Mafia!Johnny, Angst

♤Word Count; 2.6k+ ♤Warnings; assault, injury, panic attacks, implied sexual assault/rape ♤Synopsis; Doesn’t the moonlight look beautiful tonight?

Part 1 , Part 3

Upon waking you realize you were alone.

Glancing around you quickly realized that you weren’t home, or in a hospital. You were in a regular house, a regular room at that. Moving your arms around you realized that the ache had significantly subsided since the first time you woke. Slowly you sat up, lifting your arms up and seeing the scraps all along your arms, now blooming in purple and yellow. Healing bruises.

Footsteps could be heard walking along the hall, but none of them stopped at your door, just walked past and disappeared the further they got away.

Looking down you realized that you weren’t in your work clothes, you were in a grey shirt, way too big to be your own. Where were you? Why weren’t you at home?

What happened?

Tears started to well in your eyes, as you started to remember bits and pieces of the night. The moon light shining brightly over everything, the reflection in your phone mirror, being pressed against the brick wall.

Silver knife glinting in the star light, stained with blood after he cut you.

You thought that you had died.

Ignoring the pain you pulled your knees toward your chest, holding them tightly as your memories started to piece themselves back together. You were attacked. You were chosen to be attacked. Someone specifically had chased after you, and learned your schedule to find you.

Had they gotten anyone else? Had they gotten the rest of your family? Where was your family?

It seemed the harsher your breaths came, the footsteps started to realize something was wrong. Panic started to flood your body, causing you to whimper as the memories of the attack raced through your mind. You covered your ears as his voice seemed to flood your head, the words and curses he screamed at you.

The door opened but you were too far gone to realize it, so deep into your own head that you hadn’t realized someone had sat down beside you. Grabbing your arm, causing you to flinch away from them as the fat teardrops rolled down your cheeks.

“Baby.” You lifted your head up, being met with the concerned eyes of Johnny. Relief started to inch in beside the panic at the sight of your boyfriend sitting before you.

Thank god you sent your location to him.

“Love, relax for me. You’re going to be sick if you keep panicking.” Johnny pulled you towards him, and you willingly went along it, climbing onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Love, can you follow my breaths?” You slowly nodded your head before placing your head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat thudding beside your ear. Your shaking started to reside, as your sobs quieted, Johnny rubbing your back soothingly and whispering sweet nothings to you. As your sobs turned to weak whimpers Johnny tilted your head up, cupping both of your cheeks while he wiped away your tears.

“You gotta do a check up? Are you up for it? It’s only Doyoung, but if you aren’t feeling good he can do it later.” If you pushed it back, who knows what other facts about your injuries you could be missing.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Johnny sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead before turning his head and gesturing for someone to come further into the room. Looking up you realized that Doyoung was standing in the doorway, witnessing the moment between you and Johnny if his awkward facial expression was anything to go by.

However, upon seeing another one of your Neos safe and out of harm's way tears pricked at your eyes again.

“Doyoung.” You reached your arms out to him, and for once he willingly gave you a hug, placing a kiss on your cheek. Doyoung would rather lose an arm and leg than do skinship, but I guess this occasion calls for an exception.

“Grateful you're okay short stack.” Doyoung murmured into your hair, before doing his brief check up.

“Most of her cuts were superficial, besides the one on her stomach. Keep cleaning them, and changing the dressing twice every day. She’ll also have a wicked headache because of her concussion, and her bruises might be a little tender. But she’s healthy, and everything will heal properly within 2-3 weeks.”

Doyoung turned to you, a smile on his face for the first time since he entered the room. “You’ll be fine short stack, but you need to be careful because you’re still injured pretty badly.”

“I’ll tell the boys to give you a few hours, they missed you a lot short stack. Especially the Dreamies. Take it easy, short stack and we’re all really glad you’re back.” Doyoung nodded his head before turning on his heels, and closing the door quietly behind him to mark his exit.

Turning towards Johnny you placed your hands on your lap, ignoring the slight pulsating in the back of your head. “Where am I? I know this isn’t your apartment.”

“This is a spare room at base. I couldn’t take you back to my house. We had to find out if the guy was affiliated or not.” Johnny loosely gestured to the room, and didn’t specify exactly who but you knew.

He wanted to know if the guy who attacked you was gang affiliated.

“I know he was gang affiliated.” Johnny turned to you, slightly surprised to hear. “He mentioned you a few times, not by name. He also had a tattoo on his bicep that I saw when his shirt sleeve flew up.” Johnny sighed before grabbing both of your hands, placing a kiss on your knuckles that would’ve been seen as sweet if you were anywhere else.

“Smart girl,” You knew that wasn’t the end of his sentence, you could tell that he was holding himself back.

“Johnny, what aren’t you telling me? I can take it.”

“I have to send you away. You’ll be going back to Chicago with the Dreamies.” You shook your head viciously, pulling your hands away from Johnny and clasping them together across your chest.

He was going to send you away? Would you be safe in Chicago? Why were you being sent away?

“You can’t send me away. Why would you do that?” For the umpteenth time in the 30 minutes since you’ve been awake tears are prickling at your eyes.

“I am more useful to the team here than I am in Chicago. Who would you turn to when the rest of the boys can’t figure out the codes? Hell, I even helped Doyoung stitch you guys up after missions. There is no reason for you to send me away.” Johnny reached out for you but you kept your hand away as it’d burn you to make contact with him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been attacked. It won’t be the last time either. I can help you so much better when I’m actually here with you.”

“This isn’t who we usually deal with. It’s Seventeen.” You froze after hearing the name.

Seventeen was a ruthless gang. They always hung around your middle and high school growing up, most of them being older than you and always having the excuse of the youngest members to stay around. Every last one of them were dicks, bullying everyone who they deemed to be less than them.

Except for Chan. Chan was actually sweet to you, being in the same grade as you due to his own awful attendance. Despite all of his callous members he seemed to actually have a soul, and always cared about the people around him. He was only a few years older than you, but made sure to always protect you from the rest of the members. He was like your older brother, and you were thankful for him being there.

That is until you turned 17, and he allowed the boys to take you.

He tried to convince you to join him, offering to have you be his right hand. After you refused he stopped protecting you, giving the boys active permission to do whatever they wanted with you. You were kept there to be Seventeen’s play thing, for them to ‘toy’ with until another group raided the warehouse they were hiding you in.

That’s how you met the Neos. They saved your life. No one knows how long Chan would’ve kept you hidden there if Seventeen wouldn’t have pissed off the Neos.

They’re back.

It’s been years since then. After the Neos raided them Seventeen went off of the grid, supposedly leaving the city to relocate.

You never healed from it. How could you heal from your bestfriend kidnapping you, allowing you to be played with and injured at the hands of his other group mates. You spent years constantly looking over your shoulder, waking up from the nightmares that steadily plagued you night after night. Johnny stood by your side through it all, keeping a Neo by your side at all times so that you weren’t truly alone. All that progress was gone.

Was Dino after you exclusively? Had he never recovered from you escaping? Was he going to go after the rest of the Neos?

Would he attack the rest of your family?

“Breath princess. Breath.” Your thoughts continued to swirl around in your mind, panic intermingling with the questions you had.

If Dino was willing to have someone attack you in public, what would happen if you weren’t protected again? You got lucky this first attack, but what happened if luck wasn’t on your side next time? What if he kidnapped you again?

He’d kill you.

“Baby, look at me. Follow my breathing.” Johnny pulled you back onto his lap, holding you tightly against his chest. You tried to listen to his sweet words of reassurance, but the overwhelming sense of dread just continued to hover. If they were back what would happen to the rest of the Neos? To Johnny?

They must think of you as a liability, forcing them to risk their lives uselessly. They saved you twice, would they be willinging to save me again? You’re a loose end to Seventeen, and they won’t stop until you’re dead.

“Who?” You struggled to get your words out, but you needed to know. Needed to know who had attacked you, and led the rest of the boys to Seventeen.

“Mingyu, he’s dead. The Neos dealt with him already.” Now they were working with one less person. That’s why Johnny was willing to lose the Dreamies just to protect you.

The fact that Seventeen sent Mingyu, one of their most feared assassins after you, definitely meant that they wanted you dead.

“You’re not sending all of the Dreamies. Right? You can’t lose all seven of them.” Johnny shook his head.

“Donghyuck and Mark will stay here. With 127. I’m not that reckless, I know what I’m doing.” You sighed out of relief hearing Johnny had planned his attack through. He wasn’t being cocky, actually being logical about the situation.

You could relax a little, but you knew now that you and the Dreamies really had to leave the city. You had to be safe, and Johnny wouldn’t fight you on this matter.

“When do I have to leave?”

“Next Friday. Until then you’re going to stay here. Your clothes are already here, along with your new phone. We had to make sure you’re not being tracked.“ You sighed, before nodding your head solemnly looking down at your hands. There was no use fighting Johnny on a matter like this, he would do anything to keep you safe.

“Can I see the Dreamies? Please?” Muttering a quiet yeah, Johnny left the room. You rubbed your eyes while everything seemed to be catching up to you. You didn’t even know how long you were out, and you were now getting sent away. To protect you. To keep you safe.

Despite the anxious feeling that seemed to be growing again you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips when you heard the stampede of footsteps coming down the hall. As the door burst open the first person you saw was Jisung, a blush spreading over his cheeks as his dark purple hair flew every which way.

“SHORT STACK!” You may have seen Jisung first, but Chenle was always going to let his presence known with the loud screech that he let out. All of the boys started to pile into the room, fixing themselves on the edges of your bed, except for Mark and Jeno. They stood beside your bed, not wanting to accidentally hurt you or injure you. Jaemin was on the opposite end of the spectrum, placing his head on your lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could help it, content to be back with your Dreamies.

“Chenle why are you so loud?” Jisung flinched, holding his ears as Chenle excitedly tried to tell you something that happened while you were out.

“Haechan I swear to god if you push me off the bed I will drown you in the sink.” Renjun muttered angrily while holding on tightly to Haechan’s arm in a last ditch effort to not fall off.

“Jaemin, why are you the only one cuddling her?” Jeno asked, laughing under his breath at Jaemin who just pouted and snuggled further against you.

“I missed you. I’m not letting her go.” Mark smacked Renjun and Haechan to stop them from fighting, causing Renjun to give a dirty look as Haechan stuck his tongue out at him.

“Stop it.” The room went silent at Mark, got serious for once, shocking everyone including you.

“She just woke up guys, give her a little bit of a rest.” The rest of the Dreamies muttered apologies, before sitting on their respective corners on the bed.

“It’s okay Mark. I’m fine.” Mark looked at you hesitantly as you held your arms out to him, nervous to hurt you. “Please? I want a hug?” Mark reluctantly walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you gently as if you were fragile and were going to break at any moment. Pulling away Mark gave me a onceover before visibly tensing up again.

“Has he, like, already told you dude?” Now it's Jeno's turn to smack the back of Mark’s head while Haechan whispers quietly about Canada. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, the mood now sobered up as you mentioned his plans.

“We’re going to his old family home at least? That’d be fun to explore.” Renjun chimed in, trying to bring it back into a positive light.

“Yea it’s like a week long vacation. We get to leave the boring ass city at least.” Jisung agreed, eyes bright at the thought of leaving the city for the first time.

“As fun as that sounds, remember we have to stay in the house. No sight seeing, this is still a mission.” Jeno spoke up, Jisung looked down ashamed to have thought so eagerly about this trip that was only there to keep you safe. Chenle rubbed his back soothingly while Jaemin pulled you back into your chest, gingerly rubbing up and down your arms to not hit your bruises. Mark and Renjun shared a look over their heads, a silent agreement that you knew nothing about.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll still have each other, Mark and Haechan will be protecting all of us here.” You leaned further into Jaemin’s chest, praying that he was right.

Everything will be okay, as long as we have eachother.

#nct angst #nct 24th member #nct 127 #wayv #WayV imagines #nct dream #nct imagines #nct mafia au #nct mafia fic #nct mafia #kpop angst #Kpop mafia #Kpop mafia au

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stellocchia · 4 years ago

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Here’s an analysis of the “Tommy’s Plan To Kill Dream” stream (part 2)

Continuation of this here (though it really isn’t needed to read that one to read this as I will be recapping a bit as I go): https://stellocchia.tumblr.com/post/645995202162671616/heres-an-analysis-of-the-tommys-plan-to-kill

This is the less intense part of the stream. They already talked about their plans to kill Dream (well, Tommy’s plan that Tubbo is VERY reluctant about and Ranboo agrees with). We’re moving into the gathering resources for the surveilance post part now.

As always moving forward I’ll be soley talking about the characters and, for the dialogue, this are the respective colors: Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Ghostbur.

Analysis under the cut as always

So let’s start off with the obvious: I absolutely love how protective Tubbo and Ranboo are of Tommy, I’m glad he has people who actually care in his life right now. We have various examples of this throughout the stream, but the first one is Tommy seeing a creeper, backing off immediatly (because of his hightened fear of pain, aslo known as algophobia apparently) and them immediately destroying the threat. Of course this is also because they don’t want Snowchester blown up, but it’s still sweet nonetheless.

He also opens up about his algophobia right after to them and asks for some armour, which Tubbo actually provides.

“You’re wearing Dream’s armour, aren’t you Tubbo?” “Yeah” “Okay, I wouldn’t- I genuinely would advice not. Anything that that man’s fucking been too near you don’t wanna be using” Tommy’s fear of Dream by now is just all encompassing. It is also quite peculiar that he would say this while still using Dream’s trident (right? It’s still his right?), though that could simply be because he puts himself in the category of “things that have been too near Dream” by now and really can’t be affected more then he already has been, though this is just a theory.

Same thing as with the creeper happens with a skeleton a couple minutes later.

“What happened? Holy crap” “Tubbo he beat me to death, he punched me to death” Bee duo starting to realize how serious Tommy’s situation is right after the scheleton encounter because Tommy was just genuinely panicking.

“Pain it feels so much more real now, ‘cause I know what’s on the other side” “Surely doesn’t that give closure?” “No... no it gives quite the opposite Tubbo” And what a good choice that was narratively speaking! If death did give closure as us and the characters in the story themselves expected, with resurrection it would be meaningless. This way though, death has just as much narrative weight as if resurrection wasn’t there, which is what you want in a story.

“On a side note for you two: Sam Nook great guy! Really lovely guy! Awesamdude is a bastard and does not deserve to be running that prison. If he let me die he failed his job” We can see that Tommy’s perception of the warden’s duty is strickingly different from Sam’s. To Tommy the top priority should be protecting others from Dream (even if it means compromising the security of the prison), while to Sam the top priority is keeping Dream locked up.

“My therapy update!” We all knew I had to include this one. It’s actually really great because:

1) Him actually reacheing out to Puffy to get therapy means that he actually recognises that he needs help and is willing to ask for it, which is the first step towards healing

2) Him acting so happy about it is actually such a good message for the younger viewers to see that therapy is nothing to be afraid of and it’s not taboo

One more thing we had him wanting to remove his own statues as they’re a grim reminder of his death in a scene that is very similar to Tubbo on the 16th asking to remove the decorations of the day of his execution.

“I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to... try and kill Dream. I don’t know how canon lives work for you anymore, but I only got one left” As I pointed out in the other post the 2 main reasons why Tubbo is reluctant about the plan are that he’s on his last life and that he managed to build a life for himself with Snowchester and Ranboo that he doesn’t wanna loose.

“Listen guys, I’ve experienced death now, it doesn’t matter how many lives I have left now, I’m NOT willing to go through that again” “Yeah that makes sense actually, that makes sense” This is an interesting question though of how many lives he re-acquired. We know Jack came back with 3 when he did it, but then again, normal rules don’t seem to apply to Jack Manifold. Also I wanted to include Ranboo’s quote there just because he’s literally been nothing but supportive and I love him for it.

Also all 3 teens decide at once that ignoring the Egg will most definitely make the problem go away, because that has always worked in the past of course! (Also, honestly, good for them. Let the adults take care of something for once!)

“I’m not very god at smal- that’s not true” “Mhmm” “So eh... you guys heard The News?” “The news about what?” “The news about...?” “You know... what-what’s been happening...” “What’s been happening?” “About- about umm... George” “About George? What happened with the Gogmeinster?” “Oh yeah, he got banned! Twice” “No no, he... he grew a third ear” “Really? Oh man!” “Oh yeah! I’ve seen a photo of that on instagram!” So, aside from this being so funny, the reason I’m highlighting it is because if there is one thing Tommy never struggled with in the past it was small talk. He could literally start blabbering with anyone about anything, no matter how dumb, with absolute confidence. Now he’s struggling with everything (both here and later in the Nether we have similar scenes for it). He is insecure about everything he says and socializing seems much harder for him. Regardless both Tubbo and Ranboo still go along with everything he says with absolute confidence, which seems to help him quite a bit. Considering that his biggest desire seems to be to be treated the same as he was before having them not pointing out his obvious insecurity (while still very obviously noticing it) is probably quite a big thing for him.

“Why are Punz’s eyes red?” “Why? Oh- Where is Punz?” “Oh, that might mean we have to kill him, he might kill us on sight” “Yeah, he might try to kill you. Where are you Tommy by any me- where are you?” “Yeah, stay away from him” “No I can fucking take him man!” “No because you get scared of damage...” “Tommy... yeah” “I don’t get scared of damage!” “That’s not true” “Tommy where are you?” I loved this scene so much! Tommy didn’t actually even see Punz here, he only saw his face on the players tab, but the other two were immediately on the defensive. Also this is what I mean when I say that it’s not that they don’t acknowledge Tommy’s situation, they’re just trying to give him some normalcy, because, as soon as he is in any actual or perceived danger they’re immediately in high alert.

“You’re like a living ghost” “I think that’s just called a human Tubbo” “You’re like a human” “That’s just called someone who is alive” “You’re treating me differently” So two things here:

1) Tubbo still has a lot of confusion towards the whole revival process an that’s what he was trying to express. Ranboo was not particularly happy with his choice of words though and kinda got the defensive tone again

2) Tommy shuts down very fast any time any kind of change is mentioned. In this case the change being Tubbo’s perception of him.

That said they manage to recover the situation really fast with Ranboo making a comparison between Tommy and Jesus (they’re teenagers, what can I say?)

“Tubbo I feel like we’ve grown less close while I’ve been in prison and dead” “That’s ‘cause you’ve been gone for such a long time...” “Do you like me less?” “Nope!” “Well it feels like you do” “Well, that’s all in your head then!” “No” “Maybe you superpower is immagination” “Maybe my superpower is anxiety” Well Tommy, do my job for me, will you? But yes, these kind of thoughts (fretting about what others, especially your friends or family think of you) is extremely common for individuals suffering from anxiety disorders. Also what Tubbo did here was really important, even if it is the bare minimum, he still provided the ressurance his friend needed and that’s good of him. Also, while Tommy’s dependence on Tubbo does shine through quite a bit during this stream Tubbo does continuosly set up healthy boundaries for them (introducing and keeping firm on his relationship with Ranboo and admitting that they did grow apart a bit and he is still confused about Tommy for example), which is extremely good. Ranboo is also presenting himself as a viable option for emotional support, which will actually be good for Tommy in the future as this would mean breaking out of the habit that was ingrained in him of relying on one single person every time.

“I’m not afraid of anything! The only thing I’m afraid of is, you know, waking up in the morning and...” “The- the thing your afraid of is waking up in the- are you alright? Are you- are you alright man? Are you good?” That’s concerning! But, again, very fitting with his newfound extreme anxiety he seems to be experiencing. Also ConcernedBoo, he just care about his friends and is worried. Pretty sure Tommy fits together with Michael and Tubbo in the circle of people he’s willing to protect.

Also, in case people were wondering, Ghostbur wasn’t handing out sugar because he was a fake Ghostbur, but just because Ranboo gave it to him and it was the only thing he had. Same goes for Tommy calling Ghostbur “Wilbur” and acting as if he was Alivebur and Ghostbur only correcting him after quite a while: it’s not because he’s fake, it’s because he gave permission to Tommy specifically to do so before. As I mentioned in the other post their relationship is complicated, but Ghostbur very much cares for Tommy a whole lot and he came back specifically because he heard Tommy needed help again, it’s not so weird he’d allow him to do stuff he doesn’t allow for others.

“Last time I spoke to you was like a few days ago...” Now, as some people pointed out this could simply be Ghostbur memory being sort of foggy and him not realizing how much time passed. But the OTHER theory is that he remembers talking to Phantommy (which we know happened thanks to Quackity’s lore, as they visited Glatt’s gym together). Honestly both are plausible (if the first one was true then meeting Phantommy may have simply made him upset and he could have forgotten about it, or perhaps he could have just forgotten that Tommy was dead).

“Ghostbur do you want him (Wilbur) to come back? Because I- I don’t. I don’t think that I do ever” “It’s... I... umm, hm. The-the world needs structure and order and he- he was good at that. He did that-” “No. The world needs less villains and he was a villain if I’ve ever seen one” “But a- a villain is just- is- sometimes the line’s a little blurry. You could say a little blurry, a tiny bit, it’s like a- a villain it’s just a hero you haven’t convinced yet” Now, as much as I love Ghostbur he’s half wrong here. Let me explain:

Simply put not all bad people can be redeemed for one thing (for example someone like Dream could never be redeemed because he hurt so many people in such horrible ways without ever regretting it), and secondly describing a villain as a “hero YOU HAVEN’T CONVINCED yet” puts the responsability of that persnon’s actions on their victims. As a matter of fact it’s most definitely NOT up to the ones who’ve been hurt to reabilitate the ones who hurt them (which is why Sam managing the prison now is considerable a conflict of interests). They shouldn’t even be forced to forgive that person if the person DOES change for the better. And here’s the crux of the issue: Wilbur hurt a LOT of people. He hurt Tubbo, he hurt Niki, he hurt Fundy, he hurt everyone who joined Pogtopia. And more then anything else he hurt Tommy. He was abusive and manipulative towards him and Tommy has every right to never forgive him. He has every right to be scared of him and regard him purely as a villain, because that’s what he was for him towards the end of his life.

Ghostbur bringing him back in the hopes that he’s changed at all just means that, once again, the responsability of his possible reabilitation will be left entirely on the shoulders of the teens of the server and the same goes for if there is NO reabilitation. The destruction will, once more, be left for them to deal with. Tommy specifically will have one more person who abused him to deal with. Wether Wilbur will or will not ally himself with Dream doesn’t matter, because he was still a destructive individual on his own (despite of course being that way because of his own mental spiral, but that just makes him more sympathetic, it doesn’t justify his actions nor make them any less hurtful for those around him).

Also Wilbur’s been dead for 10-12 years in Limbo time, I can’t imagine that doing wonders for his mental state...

There is a scene after that conversation where Tommy was talking about how being dead was, Tubbo asked a question about it and Tommy got upset. Of course the others got confused about his reactions since ha was already talking about, so, to clarify: the probable reason why anyone (aside from Ghostbur apparently) asking him questions about it upsets him is probably because of Dream. He mentioned multiple times now that Dream treating his death as a science experiment when he revived him was extremely traumatic for him. He hates the idea of being “just science” to the people around him. Ghostbur seem to be an exception to this, but that may be because Tommy seems predisposed to just trust Ghostbur more from an emotonal stand-point (perhaps because he reminds him of how Wilbur used to be before he spiraled).

“I love monster energy” “Monster energy is kind of scary...” “Mhm, it’s for monsters...” Man the very low-key constant self-deprecation sure it’s kinda worrying... I really do hope that someone will help him with his very obvious sef-esteem issues at some point.

“He (Wilbur) spent a lot of time around a bad guy. He spent around a decade, you said, around Schlatt and Schlatt- Schlatt’s the bed guy, Right?” “I don’t think Schlatt’s the only bad guy” “Him and Eret are the bad guys, right?” Once again Ghostbur’s view of things is very naive and still very much stuck in the past. It’s been so long now since Eret betrayal, and they tried to redeem themselves since. Meanwhile it’s also been months since Schlatt died, and, even back when he was alive, he was far from being the only arguably bad person, Wilbur being right there along with him if we consider what his actions caused. And now we have Dream and the Egg, we have Quackity indulging in torture, we have the syndacate having a gestapo arc, we have Jack back on his goal of killing a teen. We can be sympathetic toward many of this people, but this doesn’t change the fact that they hurt others a lot or that their objectives or actions are objectively morally wrong in some cases. By now it’s honestly pretty hard to draw the line of who IS and ISN’T a bad guy.

“Cobble is GOOD, people don’t like it when I use cobble though...” Again, the usual self confidence is completely lacking. This is worse then post exile: back then he still had the full confidence to build an ugly cbblestone tower on Techno’s front lawn, now even using a bit of cobblestone makes him self-concious.

Also apparently Sam instructed Sam Nook to keep Tommy specifically away from the prison for his own safety. Man’s still looking after him even if he probably won’t manage to do it directly for a while (at least until Tommy forgives him, if he does).

That’s pretty much it! It’s everything I’d consider important that I could find in the stream!

@mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #ranboo #ghostbur #tw abuse #tw manipulation #c!wilbur critical #I guess?#analysis #dream smp #/rp #my post #long post #though long ass post would fit better #I seriously just made a two parter on a block man roleplay huh?#god what is my life...

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terpia · 4 years ago

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Early Modern Drama Rec List (Non-Shakespeare)

So I just spend a year reading a lot of early modern drama and I thought I might as well put my degree to a good use and make a list of some of my favourite lesser known (i.e. not written by Shakespeare) early modern plays. All of these plays are in the public domain, so it should be very easy to find them online.

Comedies:

The Roaring Girl by Thomas Middleton and Thomas Dekker - a fictional story featuring a dramatized portrayal of a real person, Mary Firth, also known as Moll Cutpurse. Moll was a notorious pickpocket, wore a doublet and breeches, smoked a pipe, cursed, and was generally infamous for her 'mannish' behaviour. And she's a character in this play!

It is open to interpretation how positive the play's depiction of Moll really is, but she does play a very important role in getting the main pair of lovers together and ends the play happily continuing to live her life the way she wants, which is in itself pretty incredible. Overall, just a really fun read.

Galatea (or Gallathea) by John Lyly - a 16th century play that is both gay and trans??? Sign me up! In a village where the fairest virgin needs to be sacrificed to Neptune every 5 years (or he'll drown everyone), two fathers decide to disguise their beautiful daughters as boys and hide them in a nearby forest. While wandering around the forest the two girls meet and, falling for each other's disguises, fall in love. In the end (spoilers for the ending, but this is not exactly a play you read for the plot, lol), Diana stops Neptune, the two girls find out each other's true identities and decide they're still in love, and Venus turns one of them (we never find out which one) into a boy so that they can get married.

As must be clear from this summary, this comedy plays around with gender a lot. To add to the gender cocktail, remember that the two girls would have been originally played by boys. Although the ending was seen as heteronormative by early queer critics, the emergence of trans criticism within queer theory has led to a lot of interesting readings of the play. Well worth a read.

(also, if you have a device on which you can play DVDs and some money to spare, consider buying a DVD of the Edward's Boys production of the play. Edward's Boys is a group that replicates the format of early modern boys' companies, with all roles in their productions being played by boys. I will admit, when I bought a DVD of their 2014 production of Galatea, I expected to watch a glorified high school performance, but it turned out to be so good. All the boy actors were amazing, way better at performing Shakespeare than a lot of Hollywood actors. This just straight-up felt like a professional theatre production, I highly recommend it.)

The Knight of the Burning Pestle by Francis Beaumont - I don't even know how to describe this play other than 'fantastic and fun'. A meta-theatrical city comedy, which starts with a pair of audience members (who were actually two dressed-up boy actors from the boys' company performing the play) jumping onto a stage and demanding to see a different play than the the one being set up. Things get only wilder from there.

A genuinely really funny play. I don't know of anyone who has read it and hasn't immediately loved it.

The Sea Voyage by John Fletcher and Philip Massinger - one of the least well known plays out of this list, which is unfortunate because this play is really fun. Short and sweet, it's a story of a bunch of (surprisingly honorable) pirates, who get shipwrecked on an island inhabited by a tribe of Amazon-like women. Predictably, hijinks ensue. An interesting look into early modern gender relations (apparently the main reason why living without men would be difficult for women is because of how horny they would get? I think Fletcher and Massinger need to take a lesson or two from Lyly).

The Alchemist by Ben Jonson - want to see three assholes con a bunch of idiots in increasingly ridiculous ways? Then this is the play for you.

Jonson's city comedies, which satirize the people of early modern London, tend to be much meaner in tone than Shakespeare's comedies and the other comedies on this list, but in many ways, that's what makes them fun. Viciously clever and at times really funny, there's an edge to the writing that makes it very entertaining. I had a lot of fun reading this (Jonson's Epicoene is also great, if you want a comedy that's even meaner and also has some very questionable gay stuff in it).

Tragedies:

Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe - probably the most famous non-Shakespeare early modern play, and for a good reason. It has everything; pacts with the devil, a melodramatic anti-hero protagonist, homoeroticism (I mean of course, it's Marlowe), and a suitably gory and tragic ending. What more can you ask for?

The Tragedy of Mariam by Elizabeth Cary - this play is more interesting than fun, but I think it's still well worth a read. It's the first original play written in English by a woman. The play takes place in ancient Palestine. It looks at the way Mariam, a Jewish queen, reacts to the news of the death of her husband, the tyrannous Herod (yes, the baby-killing guy from the Bible). Most people seem to be relieved. Except oops, Herod is not actually dead.

A fascinating look at gender ideology in the early modern period, with the play centering around the conflict of a woman who tries to live up to the ideals of a perfect wife and woman, while stuck in a marriage to a tyrant. This play would also be a great read for anyone interested in how gender and sexuality intersected with race in early modern England, because this play uses a lot of racialized language to describe women.

The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster - a classic revenge tragedy. A recently widowed Duchess wants to marry her steward, but her asshole brothers throw a fit. Intrigue and death ensue. At one point a fake wax hand and some fake wax corpses appear on stage.

This play basically reads like a good thriller. Fucked up in a way that only an early modern revenge tragedy can be, this is a fun and thrilling read.

The Changeling by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley - speaking of fucked up. If you're planning to read it, be mindful that this play contains sexual assault. It's a story of a young noblewoman called Beatrice, who wants to get rid of her fiancé after falling in love with a visiting nobleman. To do it, she enlists the help of her villainous servant De Flores. Things end up going extremely badly.

This play can get very uncomfortable at times, but just like The Duchess, it's as gripping as any good modern thriller. Very engaging. The ending is as engrossing as it is stomach-churning, although probably not for the reasons it was originally meant to (reading criticism about The Changeling, it is genuinely shocking and disheartening to see how long it took for critics to start addressing the clear issues of consent in the play). The story also includes a bizarre virginity test that uses a potion which makes you drowsy or which makes you sneeze and laugh depending on whether you had sex or not, so hey, at least that's fun?

Antonio's Revenge by John Marston - ok, so this is definitely the least... good of the plays I've recommended so far, but listen. Do you like trainwrecks? Do you like violence so over-the-top that people to this day wonder whether it's actually supposed to be a parody of the revenge tragedy genre? Are you looking for a reading experience that will make you go 'what the fuck' throughout? If so, this is the play for you!

Very much in the so bad it's good category. Ridiculously gory. The only thing that makes it better is knowing that it was originally played by children (on a related note, I haven't seen this production, but I know that this play has also been played by Edward's Boys). If you like horrible, gory horror movies, you'll probably enjoy this play.

That's it for now! Hopefully at least a few of these plays catch your interest.

Btw, LibriVox, which is an organisation that makes public domain recordings of public domain texts, has most of these plays available as free audiobooks, if you're interested!

#early modern drama #early modern england #book rec #i don't know how else to tag this #i keep spending way too much time on these extremely niche posts #but hey i had fun writing this and maybe it'll end up being useful to someone who knows #alex's boring history corner #kind of???#shakespeare

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 16: Sit Rep

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, various other original supporting/secondary characters (This includes Sy’s Army Buddies of varying rank as follows: Kevin Kaufmann, Nate Banning, Chad Randall, Matt Styles, Jake Ryburn, and Travis Hodges. I apologize if I’ve mixed up their names anywhere. I just gave them last names and sometimes rank so they could be called something other than their first names for sake of variety! lol!)

Summary: Sy meets up with his Army buddies and they are eager to help.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, firearms, implication of abuse and violence

Author’s Note: Guys, we are getting closer! Our couple will be back together soon! I can’t wait and I know most of you feel the same! I hope the strike team members aren’t too muddled and confusing. If they are, I’m very open to your feedback and suggestions on how to clarify and improve! Thank you to everyone, long time readers, and new fans picked up along the way! I cherish you all, and would never have gotten this far in the story if it wasn’t for each and every one of you! I hope you enjoy the 16th chapter (18th installment…remember when I thought this would just be a few chapters of fluff with a smutty conclusion? Lol!) of The treatment of Captain Syverson.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy sat in his truck in the parking lot of Cade's. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was here. The altercations with Elliott, both inside the bar and outside, the friendships he'd started to build with the other fellas in Shane's work group, the simple way Shane pulled off the elegance of minimalism with her wardrobe and makeup, the ride home…and the night of lovemaking that followed. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have agreed to come tonight. He was gonna leave. His right hand reached for the keys in the ignition, a firm grip ready to set the engine roaring again, when he was startled by a rap at his window.

Tap-tappa-tap-tap his friend Kevin had just rhythmically knocked with one knuckle on the window. He was smiling and waving exuberantly, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

Sy's scowl softened into a sheepish grin and he knocked back tap-tap.

Kevin waited near Sy's front fender while he got out of his truck.

"How ya doin' Kevin?" he greeted his old friend warmly.

"Alright, I s'pose! You?"

"Oh…I'm makin' it, I guess. What are you up to these days? Still workin' at the plant?" Kevin had worked for the 3M factory over in Lebanon, Missouri since his last tour. Sy knew if he just got him talking about his life, Sy wouldn't have to give him details about his own, which he was going to avoid like the plague, if he could tonight.

"Yup, I actually just got a promotion. I'm a line manager now." And Sy could barely congratulate him before he started delving into the details as the two men walked into Cade's.

It was already busy, even for a Friday night. But the rest of the guys had already claimed a table between the dart boards and the pool tables, and were working on a couple of pitchers of beer. The two were welcomed warmly and only slightly teased about walking in together.

With the group finally assembled, they began taking turns giving report on their lives. It began with Kevin, who, having already begun with Sy, continued with a brief recap for the others. Sy exhaled with relief when Matt, who was seated on the other side of Kevin piped up to speak next, having recently proposed to his long time girlfriend. They were going to get to him last, if at all. He listened as well as he could as he battled the troubled thoughts in his head by bombarding them with beer. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Nate, who'd organized the gathering, had been observing his behavior with curiosity, and a measure of concern. He didn't let Jake finish talking about his latest dalliance into what they were all sure was a pyramid scheme disguised as direct sales. Even though Jake insisted it was not.

"Well, I'm curious as to why Sy's been so tight-lipped all evening. What's on your mind, Captain?"

"Nothin' Nate. Just enjoying a few beers with old friends." Sy lied, not convincing anyone at the table, least of all Nate, who had been one of his closest friends while they were stationed together.

"If I wanted to hear bullshit, I'd have let Jake keep talking about the Duraplex scam."

"It's not a scam, guys, it's real supplements for busy people!" Jake defended.

"Can it, Hodges. We aren't buying it, and we aren't signing up to sell it, either." Nate focused again on Sy. "Come on, man. You told me on the phone you had a lot going on. What is it? Female troubles?" He snickered, as did the other guys.

Sy looked into his glass, through the foam and into the honey liquid below it with a rueful grin. "In a sense."

He took a huge drink of the beer, five gulps, nearly emptying it, fortifying himself to speak.

"My girlfriend is missing." Everyone froze in position as they processed this.

Half a dozen questions hit his ears at once. Which he could have handled if he hadn't had almost a full pitcher by himself.

He shut them down, and began to tell them the story of how he met Shane and their sort of whirlwind romance. He paused for a moment to pour himself another beer.

"Never heard you talk about a woman like that, Sy." His friend Chad piped up.

"Never felt this way before, man. She's…she's the one."

"You said she was missing, though?" Nate asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sy continued, talking about their argument, reconciliation, and then his leaving for training, ending his briefing with the phone call he got from Shane's boss.

"That's fucked up, man." Matt said. "What are you gonna do about it?" His worry seemed genuine, as well, as if he was putting himself in Sy's shoes. Sy assumed because he had been in love with Tonya, his now fiancé since they were in high school, even though she didn't come around on him until he came home on leave one holiday weekend.

"I've already gone to the police with my statement and an idea for a prime suspect."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Brad Randall, who was a Sergeant for the Rolla Police Department, inquired.

"I personally have no doubts that she was kidnapped, and I am a hun'ert percent certain it was her shithead ex."

"And you don't think she's just…ghosted you?" Brad prompted. The thought put a painful tightness in Sy's chest, but it passed quickly. He knew she wouldn't do that. And not just to him.

"No way, man. She left her phone. She didn't tell work. She didn't even tell her parents. Shane takes her phone with her from room to room. She's glued to it. She'd never do that to her coworkers, who are practically family, and she'd certainly tell her parents if she was going to leave town for any amount of time. It's just…not her. I know her."

"And who's this ex? What's his deal? Why is he on the short list of suspects?"

"He IS the list, Brad. He was abusive when they were together. And a cheater. And a liar. And he tried to jump me right outside just a few weeks back. Ask Candace. She was behind the bar when he started getting in Shane's face up there. And I'd bet she saw what happened out in the parking lot, too." He gestured to the sporty blonde bartender with a high ponytail and a Cardinal's jersey when he mentioned her, and then pointed toward the windows looking out onto the dozen or more vehicles parked outside.

"Can we do anything?" Kevin asked, clamping a hand on Sy's shoulder.

"Nothin'. But I appreciate the offer, brother." And he returned the contact with a clap to the other man's shoulder.

Nate and Brad exchanged pointed looks, and Nate countered Sy's rejection.

"I wouldn't say THAT, Sy."

"What do you mean?" Sy looked at Nate as if he was pedaling snake oil…or Jake's supplements.

"I think…that we CAN do something. To help you find Shane."

"We all have military experience, and some of us have connections that could be very useful." Added Brad. "I'm on the Force. I can handle getting intel on the guy."

"I'm in to help with transpo." Matt Styles raised his hand to offer up the vehicles in his transportation service, Rydes with Styles. Sy hated when words were misspelled for the sake of gimmicks…but he had to give Matt credit for that one.

"And Travis and I still work at the base. We can arrange gear." Jake added as Travis nodded.

"And whatever else you need, I'm in too." Kevin concluded.

"No way, guys. You can't stick your necks out for me like that. I won't have it."

"Sy…You know I talked to Lopez after that last mission the two of you were on?" Travis met Sy's eye as he spoke. "He said you had your team carry out Kominski's body. And that you took on most of, and then all of his bodyweight, just so Freeman could cover everyone. Said you were hurt, yourself, but helped him, carried him, to your extraction point. Up several flights of stairs."

Sy had no response other than a blank stare. It seemed to say all it needed to, because Travis continued.

"Lopez is alive and the Kominski girls got to say a proper goodbye to David. Plus, that mission WAS a success because you got the target. I know it's still classified, but…I think we all know the significance of what you did by leading that mission. You didn't leave a man, living or dead, behind."

"And we aren't gonna let your girl get left behind, either. We're gonna take that sonofabitch out. Because what do we do?" Nate declared, ending with the call Sy had always used at the end of his mission briefs.

The whole table, including a reluctant Sy, recited “We embrace the darkness and the suffering.”

“And why do we do it?” Nate continued.

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace." Sy looked around the table at all of these men he had served with, fought with, watched comrades fall with, and fought against tyranny with. He thought most of them could have come up with their own story about his role in their military time, but the mission Travis was talking about outlined what he figured was the most significant sacrifice he had ever made for a teammate.

"Well…I guess we need to come up with a plan, then." Sy smiled and finished off the beer in his glass before laying it out for the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy had given them all missions tailored to their own strengths and connections. Brad would gather all the info he could on Elliott. Matt would reserve vehicles. Jake and Travis would procure tactical gear for the team, and Nate…Nate would provide weapons. Pistols and blades. Ammo. Holsters. Even flash grenades and smoke bombs.

Cade's was too public to talk about their plans, so Sy told everyone to rendezvous at his house the very next afternoon. They sat around the patio table on his back deck while they waited for everyone to arrive. Jake was late.

"Well, I guess 'direct sales' waits for no man, and we can't wait for Ryburn anymore. Styles, report?" Sy commenced the meeting.

"I have three Suburbans that are only a couple years old. They're black, discreet, and all glass is tinted within an inch of it's life. Even the license plate covers. I'll make sure they're fueled and ready." Matt stated.

"Aces. Richardson?" Travis spoke up next.

"Yeah, Jake had to go in for a late shift last night after we met, but I talked to him. He's gonna get vests for everyone, eyewear, comms, the whole works. All rated for Black Ops. He told me a bit ago he was following up on a lead and was hoping it would pan out. Said he had a hunch." Travis shrugged, not certain what his friend was up to, but not that concerned.

"Sounds good. Randall?"

"I made up some dossiers for everyone that includes everything I could find on Thomas. He doesn't have a ton of priors. Mostly drunk and disorderly's that were thrown out, because he got the right representation and the wrong judge. He must have someone backing him, because I have no job on file for him. No employer has run a background on him in ten years. Last known address is from six years ago, when he filed a change of address from an apartment in the Cottage Hills complex to…407 Oak Street."

"That's Shane's address." Sy interjected. "He must not have changed it since she kicked him out."

"It seems so. But it's so weird. I don't see any credit cards, online orders, not even a Netflix account on the guy. He's totally fallen off the grid since Shane. I did get into some social media accounts, but he hasn't posted to anything in the last 18 months."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was posting hot and heavy about this girl, Kara Hutch. 37. Lives over in Waynesville. But his last Facebook status just says, 'What a waste.' and 'feeling betrayed' and that was in February of last year."

"Hmm, do you think--" Sy was interrupted by the unexpectedly loud and abrupt sound of his front door flying open and Aika, with them on the deck, barking like they were about to be murdered. She was ready to kill whatever came through next. The men, all of them battle hardened veterans sporting conceal and carry permits, were out of their seats and in defensive stances in a fraction of a second. Aiming at an unseen enemy. A figure approached in the shadow of Sy's kitchen, arms raised and slowing as it saw several barrels aimed for its head and chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, guys it's me! It's Jake! Stand down!"

"Are you FUCKING INSANE, Corporal!?" Sy asked, reverting to Captain mode. "You just snuck up on and burst in on a group of soldiers. Do you comprehend how close you came to looking more like Swiss Cheese than a man, Ryburn?!" Sy scolded, fire in him rising, but more out of an angry concern for the friend they nearly shot.

"Sorry, sir, err, Sy. I was focused on getting here for my report." Jake said, out of breath.

"Travis already told us about the gear, Ryburn. You didn't need to bust in like that." Nate berated.

"Oh, guys. What I've got is way better than night vision devices. I might have an address for our guy."

"How in seven hells did YOU get an address?" Brad exclaimed, pride wounded as intel was his task.

"I know, dude, that was on you, but…I overheard a conversation when I was doing some work on equipment in the Air Traffic Control tower."

"What could you have possibly overheard in ATC?" Sy was incredulous.

"Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to keep screaming at me?"

Sy called Aika off and let Jake onto the deck, but the German Shepherd was still eyeing the corporal with marked skepticism.

"So I kept hearing this controller talking to the other girl at her station. She kept talking about her boyfriend…whose name was Elliott." Eyebrows went up all around the table. "Yeah, and he fit the description in every way. Physical appearance, textbook narcissism, the works. I went to the personnel office when I got done with the service call and told the attendant that the girl had helped me with my gear and I wanted to send her an email to thank her. She gave me a contact sheet on Sasha King. I looked her up on my lunchbreak, and found some photos of her with a guy I think might be Elliott." Jake showed Sy an image he'd saved to his phone. "Is this him?"

"Yup, that's the guy." Sy's blood was boiling again at the smiles on the couple's faces. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve a pretty girlfriend. He should die alone, starving for the love he deprived others. "You say you got an address?"

"Yeah, the gal in personnel printed me a full demo sheet. The only thing we don't have is a social." Sy noted the redacted 9-digit code in one corner of the document Jake had handed him. He read out loud. 3502 Highway D. St. Robert, MO.

"You boys feel up to a little recon tonight?" They all nodded, excitedly, patting Jake on the back, and high fiving him in congratulations on the invaluable find. Even Brad commended him on his detective skills and told him he'd have a job on the Force with him if he ever wanted a change. The corporal almost blushed.

The men went back into the house and through the front door to the driveway where they were all parked.

"Jake, you brought all the gear, too?"

"Sure did, Sy. There's vests, belts, NVDs and helmets to mount. There's plenty for everyone." Jake opened the back of his Jeep as if it were a buffet of delicious tactical equipment. Sy found among the gear a large case and opened it out of curiosity. A sound amplifier with headphones. That was going with him, as it appeared there was only one.

"I'll outfit everyone with guns and ammo later. But here are some tac knives, and three of each diversionary devices for each member of the team." Nate passed out packs with the blades, smoke grenades, and flash bombs.

"Okay, rendezvous at Matt's shop at 1800. We'll go over some procedures for the evening and get set up with the rest of our weaponry then. Okay?" General nods of ascent and "mmhmms" in confirmation of the plan came from the men. Sy continued, "Maybe get some rest between now and then. I don't know how long this is going to take."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy got to Matt's a little early. 1730. Nate showed up about ten minutes later and pulled in next to Sy, leaving the rear doors accessible to arm the team. The men got out of their vehicles and began double checking Nate's inventory.

"Nervous?" Nate said after exchanging the usual pleasantries.

"I didn't think I was. But just now, I got to thinking about what that…monster is doing to the love of my life. What he's putting her through, if he's even let her live. What are we going to come across when we get to this place?"

"You can't think like that. She's not Schrödinger's cat. You have to be positive here. This mission depends on your strength as a leader. You're gonna do great. And Shane is gonna be fine. We all will. Have a little faith, man." Nate patted Sy on the back in encouragement. Sy appreciated it. But he thought he might have to compartmentalize, instead. Think of this as just another mission. Forget that Shane was involved. Even if it wasn't healthy, it might at least be helpful.

Matt arrived soon after and waved at the two men as he pulled in on the other side of Nate. He got out and greeted his friends, all of them shooting the breeze and enfolding the others into the conversation as they got there. Kevin was the last to arrive, just before 1800, when the briefing commenced.

"So," Sy began, more timidly than was his usual way. "First, guys, I wanna say, I appreciate y'all so much for doing this. For putting in the time and the resources to help me and Shane. I owe y'all more than I can repay, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Within reason." He grinned and his friends chuckled.

"Now, we've got the comms set up. We'll be in each other's ears, so we can report in real time. I've looked up an aerial view of the farm on Google Earth, and there should be good cover for surveillance with the sound equipment and NVDs. I'll take point, Nate, you and Matt are with me. Kevin, you and Brad will flank the property on the left, Travis and Jake are going right. I'm hoping this will just be recon, but if I get wind of something I don't like, I may call for the strike. You guys will report anything you think looks fishy, and I will make that call with the intel I'm given. Now. When and if I make that call, we're gonna aim for disorientation and soft incapacitation. If you don't have to kill, don't. I don't know how much help this bastard has, but I know it would have taken several to take down Shane. It's not that I think any of them deserve to be spared, but…I don't want us to break up any families. We don't need the weight on our already heavy souls." War had changed them all, and Sy didn't want to make any more widows. "We good?"

Nods of approval from the men made Sy think he was looking at a military bobble head collection. He stifled a smile.

"Alright, lets get armed and ready, then Matt can take us to our chariots."

They were all mostly suited up, black or dark colors were the general uniform. They were ready for whatever might happen. As Nate handed out guns and ammo, the men examined their clips, loaded their guns, and put them in their holsters until needed…they hoped they wouldn't be.

When they were all set, they followed Matt to the huge garage he kept his fleet in.

Although, "garage" didn't quite do the building justice. It was actually an airplane hangar that Matt got for a good price when the local airline went under. He'd made a loft in it with a ramp so there was extra room for smaller vehicles like his town cars. The limos, SUVs, and the stretch Hummer were on the lower level. He had a separate space outside for the two party busses and the RV, protected from the elements by large carports.

Matt went to grab keys from the lock box as the men gathered near the Suburbans. Sy was getting angsty. Moment of truth was here.

"Okay," Matt jingled two sets of keys in his hands. "Who's driving?"

Kevin deferred to Brad without contest, but Jake and Travis were bickering over the question between them.

"Grow up or get married already." Sy chided. "Jake, you got the good intel for us yesterday. You drive."

Travis was mildly crestfallen, but Jake was stoked and he caught the keyring Matt tossed him.

"You wanna drive, Captain?" Matt offered Sy the last set of keys.

"No, Matt. You're driving our group. I'll take shotgun though."

And the seven men got into the vehicles as if they were mounting horses, headed into the sunset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the comms on the way, Sy addressed the team. "Okay, there's a large outbuilding near the road, guys. Pull off the driveway and park behind that structure. Hopefully they'll hide the vehicles from the main house. Bravo and Charlie teams, you let Alpha team get in place before you take your positions."

"Roger that, Captain." Kevin said in the headset.

"We copy." Travis answered for himself and Jake.

The first phase of the mission went perfectly. Sy, Nate, and Matt were in position, and Sy had set up the sound amplifier, aiming it at the house, headphones on. When the other teams were in position, Matt reported to Sy, since he was getting feedback using the earpiece and the headphones for the amp at the same time.

"Bravo and Charlie teams are in place, Captain."

"Great. Sit Rep?"

"All's quiet so far. Wait. Headlights coming up the drive." Each team tried to make themselves as small and low as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence. Sy had been getting nothing but crime show drivel from the TV in the house since he got here.

A petite but curvy brunette got out of the white Honda Civic and stomped into the house.

"Hey babe." Elliott's unmistakable voice rang in Sy's ear. And he was filled to bursting with rage all over again.

"What the fuck, Elliott? I've been trying to call you for hours! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, I was charging my phone in the bedroom. What's going on?"

"That Captain Syverson your little pet was banging? I found out today that he's back in town. Has been for a few days."

"Shit. Shit!!! SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, so…if he isn't already, it won't be long before he starts trying to find her."

"But…how could he? Even if he thought it was me, I have no official ties to this place, or even you!"

"Flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, but I'd get rid of her ASAP. This guy is NOT someone you wanna piss off, Elliott."

"I'll bring the guys in. We'll take care of it. Tonight."

Sy cussed in a loud whisper. He wanted to rip Elliott apart with his bare hands. Nate asked him what was wrong, but Sy held up a hand for him to remain quiet because he heard the scumbag inside on the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, change of plans, we need to do this tonight. Get everyone out here. Yes, immediately. There's a…potential complication. We need to take care of her before it becomes more. Yeah, she's weak, but I'm still gonna wait until you guys get here. She's still got some fight in her. She about took Jackson's eye out yesterday when he was down there. He's got some wicked scratches on his face. I think he made her regret it, though." Elliott laughed with evil mirth. Sy was furious. He reckoned God Himself might have a time pulling him off that degenerate before he made him unrecognizable as a human man. Once he started punching him, he might not be able to stop.

When Elliott signed off, Sy pulled the earphones down onto his neck. He looked at Matt and Nate.

"He's planning something with Shane and has called in reinforcements. It sounds like he means to take her somewhere else, and it didn't sound like it was gonna be pretty. I think we need to go in now."

"Shit. Okay." Matt responded. Sy put his earpiece in and called on the rest of the team.

"Bravo and Charlie, do you copy?"

"Bravo copies." Kevin reported back.

"Charlie copies. Go ahead, Alpha." Travis cleared.

"Listen, boys. We need to go in, and we need to make it quick. Here’s the situation. We have one male and one female assailant inside the domicile, and an undetermined number of additional combatants en route to reinforce the enemy's line. We have one target. A female prisoner, presumably in the basement, given verbiage used in the communication I intercepted. Alpha team will make our priority extraction. Bravo, you will subdue the male assailant and then maintain sentry position on the lookout for more unfriendlies. Charlie team, you will clear the second level of the house and subdue the female combatant. She is a soldier, so proceed with extreme caution. Once the area is secure, drivers, go and retrieve the vehicles. We are gonna need to get out of here quick, or else things might go tits up. I'm concerned we'll lose the advantage of numbers if we wait too long. Are we clear?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader."

"Roger. On your count, cap."

Sy took a deep breath. Thought to himself "Shane. I'm on my way, baby!" He saw red, then. And called for the charge, out of the darkness, and into the farmhouse. To an uncertain outcome.

Up Next: Chapter 17-Gait Training

#Sand Castle #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill x ofc

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avengersassemble-fics · 5 years ago

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Stark’s Girl

Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader

Summary: Tony Stark is a good man. He has lost his entire family yet lives his life devoting himself to helping others. Steve Rogers never knew the secret that Tony has kept since his parents death long ago, but it finally comes out, and everything makes a little more sense. Things change for the billionaire, playboy, philanthropist when someone he thought long gone, has been alive this entire time. And Steve has to learn how to keep his secret from everyone around him, without hurting those he cares the most about.

word count 3.4k

an: wow hey lol yes another steve fic, but different then i’ve done before. did the reader go through trauma? yes. but i still want her to appear strong. in control. for now aha. hope you enjoy!

part 01/015 “two peas in a pod”

next part

If you knew Tony Stark then you knew there was one thing that you could not talk to him about. And that was anything having to do with his family. If you even tried to mention anything about that fateful day in 1991, Tony would leave and ban them from ever interviewing him again.

Especially if they tried to mention his younger sister. God forbid anyone tried that.

“No, we’re done here,” he’d say before walking off the set, his team (Pepper at the time and Happy) would follow behind him, and that reporter would never step near Tony Stark ever again.

Tony never spoke of his family, to anyone, besides maybe Pepper as their relationship developed. But it was December now, and Tony’s demeanor seemed to change the more the month passed. He grew more quiet, not being as snappy as he normally was, and secluded himself from group activities. This time around, he was focused heavily on work, and the other Avengers only saw him when there was a mission on hand. Recently, with the news that Hydra was embedded deep within SHIELD, that’s what they were being sent out to do: take out Hydra bases.

Steve Rogers was concerned for his friend. He had only seen Tony this way once before, but what he couldn’t figure out was why he would get like this. One day, he tried to ask Natasha about it. She shook her head, and told him not to ask, especially don’t ask Tony. He understood, but the information finally let itself out one night.

The Avengers tower was home to a few people on the team when they were in New York. One night, in the early morning of December 16th, there were loud crashes coming from the common area. When Steve came down the stairs, a glass cup flew into the wall between the two elevators on the floor. It shattered, rippling in the air as Tony was going on a tangent.

“How could, how could that even happen! The car losing control my ass,” he slurred. Pepper was there as well, trying to calm him down, but Tony paced back and forth in front of her. Pepper’s eyes met Steve and she extended a hand out for him to stop where he was. Steve stopped his movements, staying on the stairs, Natasha had ended up behind him, watching in silence.

“My parents they didn’t,” he hiccuped, “they didn’t have to take her with them! I said I could, I could take care of her.” Tony paused for a moment, looking into Pepper’s face. Pepper could see the tears in his eyes, but Steve would never admit that he could as well.

“If my father had just listened to me, she’d be here with me. She’d be alive, Pepper.” the last part kind of came out as a whisper. She said something quietly to him, and Tony let himself fold into her arms, and soft cries filled the room. Natasha placed her hand on Steve’s shoulder, motioning for him to follow her back upstairs, away from the scene unfolding before them.

That was when Steve learned that Howard and Maria had also had a little girl, who was with them when the crash happened. She was only fairly young when the crash happened. Natasha told him that Tony and his sister were really close when Tony was home from his schools, two peas in a pod, at least that’s what she read in the past, not that Tony would ever speak of it. Natasha also told him that if he were ever to mention it, the outcome would not be good.

Steve looked into it a bit more, and with each piece of information his heart dropped further into his stomach. Howard and Maria welcomed you into the world as a healthy baby girl, and Tony was seen carrying you into the family home a few days later. Over the next few years as Tony grew older and went to several ivy league schools, he would come home most of the press that was released was of him spending time with his little sister, whose face was blurred in every photo. They were extremely close. Steve had to close his computer, and try and move on with his day with that information running rampant in his head. He could never tell Tony about that day in 1991. For Tony’s sake.

It was spring now, Tony returned back to his normal self but now knowing what he knows, Steve looked at him a little differently. From what he read, he had never seen Tony as intimate with anyone before (with no offense to Pepper), and that changed some of the things he said to his friend.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Tony said, snapping Steve out of his thoughts.

“I’m not looking at you in any way,” he replied earning a grin from the man close to him.

“You look like you’re falling in love with me, but you’re too scared to admit it because I’m your boss. Have you ever seen Two Weeks Notice?”

Steve shook his head a slight smile crossing his lips. They were headed on a quick mission, get in, get out, and kick some Hydra ass, they as in Steve, Tony, Natasha, and Sam. This was their third base this month alone, but with the rate they were going there weren’t going to be many left in the Hydra channel.

“Alright boys, we’re reaching the drop point in a few minutes,” Natasha said from the front of the quinjet. Tony was quick to release his buckle from his body, and stood to move near his suit.

“Well that’s my cue,” Tony commented walking backwards into his suit, “try not to miss me too much Steve,” his words turned more automatic as he stepped back into his suit and it closed around him. Steve rolled his eyes, and Tony shockingly put his hands over his heart as if he was shocked. But then he wiggled his fingers at him, and Natasha opened the back of the plane and Tony dropped out of it flawlessly.

“He’s in a good mood today”, Sam commented, as he was strapping his Falcon wings on.

“He sure is,” Steve replied, and nodded at his new friend who followed Tony’s lead, disappearing into the air.

“I’m bringing her down,” Nat called over the wind. Steve released himself from his constraints and slid his helmet over his eyes. He took the time to tighten his gloves as Natasha lowered the plane to the ground. There was gunfire nearby, some ricocheting off the metal exterior.

“Always making a mess, you boys,” she said in a joking manner, walking past Steve ready to fight.

It was supposed to be an easy job. Get in, get out, take out the bad guys. That was always Tony’s tag line for these kinds of missions. This time though, there were more Hydra agents than anticipated, which could only mean one thing.

They were hiding something.

“These guys are really starting to piss me off,” Tony commented over their com links, and without hesitating, “Jarvis claims there to be possible hostage inside.”

“Romanoff and I will storm the building,” Steve managed between throws of his shield, ricocheting off an enemy and back to him, “watch our backs until we give you word to join us.”

“Sure thing, Cap,” Sam replied in his ear. Natasha nodded her readiness to Steve, and he kicked the door in, using his shield to cover them. He moved first, each foot softly moving in front of the other. They were like lions looking for their prey.

The first man that tried to come around the corner, Nat was on him like a predator. Her moves were swift and like fluid, knocking them out and leaving them on the ground. But they pressed on, glancing around corners before making their moves. They needed to find the hostages and get out of there. Carefully, Steve moved into the door frame of a room.

The lights flickered, and there were shuffling noises deeper inside. Steve narrowed his eyes as he tried to focus on the shadows, Natasha behind him felt the wall for any sign of a light switch.

“Bingo,” her sweet voice said, pressing it on and the lights coming to light. As their vision adjusted, Steve lowered his shield a bit. His gaze was on three individuals. Each cowering around one another, they had their arms wrapped around their legs and into their chests. He looked back at Natasha, and nodded for her to proceed. She seemed to be good in these cases. Nat put her gun back into her holster and moved around Steve and edged to them slowly.

“Target acquired, you can join us,” Steve radioed to everyone else.

“I’m thinking we should do Chinese after this, anyone else?” Tony asked in everyone’s ear. Steve shook his head, replacing his shield onto his back.

“We can talk about it later, Stark.”

Natasha was busy trying to get close to the three people on the floor, who had all but pressed themselves into the wall they were against. She could only focus her attention on one at a time, but Steve kept an eye on them as well from a distance.

Tony and Sam joined them shortly after. Tony’s suit opened automatically as he rubbed his wrists cooly.

“SHIELD eta is three minutes, hope you’re making progress over there Romanoff,” Tony expressed, earning a glare from the red head.

“Shut up, Tony.” she replied.

She had wrapped a blanket around one, who had finally averted their eyes from the ground and met hers. She promised each one a life of peace now. They were there to help. The last one she edged towards, was pressed against the wall, knees scooped to their body. Hair laid all around their face, covering their face from her view. What Natasha didn’t know was they could see everything.

Natasha tried to peer into the curtain of hair, hearing faint words leaving their mouth. But with Tony’s incessant talking, she couldn’t make it out.

“Guys-” he called over her shoulder, not earning a response. She glared and spun around on the floor.

“Guys!” she exclaimed, making the three men jump. They looked her way and saw her scowl, and mumbled apologies. She turned her attention back to the third hostage.

She could see the outline of a face now, they had lifted their head slightly. Eyes peered ahead past her, focused on something or an object behind her back. She could make out lips moving, and she tried intently to listen.

Bubba. Bubba. Bubba.

Was Natasha hearing that right?

“Bubba,” she repeated, and the voice she once heard fell silent. But someone behind her stirred.

“What did you say?”

Tony had stepped forward, earning a look from Steve and Nat turned around to look over her shoulder.

“They’re saying bubba, it’s a term mainly used in the south which means-”

“Brother,” Natasha and Tony said at the same time. Steve had never seen Tony so pale in the face. Natasha’s eyebrows were furrowed in a brow before her head snapped back to the source of the voice. Her bottom lip trembled a bit as she looked back to Tony. He had taken a number of steps towards the cowering person, and Natasha backed away.

“Oh my God,” Steve mumbled to himself, watching it all unfold.

Tony kneeled before them, careful of his next movements. His forehead felt hot and his hands were trembling. But he couldn’t deny the tiny word that filled air between them.

Bubba.

Tony was careful with his trembling hand he reached forward, his hand gently moving the person's hair. He was holding his breath as he did, pushing the hair back as he tried to get a look at their face. Their face would tell him everything he needed to know. His hand was nearly cupping their cheek now, and the person let him lift their face up.

Tony gasped. He stared at a face he hadn’t seen in years. He was starting to worry that he would have forgotten what they had looked like. Their eyes had locked with his, the same beautiful color he could remember from his teenage years, but filled with fear and tears. He quickly placed his other hand on their cheek, rubbing his thumbs along their skin.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out. A tear fell down your face, and he pulled you into his arms. He crumpled to the ground and let you sit in his lap, cradling your head on his shoulder. Behind him the rest of the team looked on, Natasha had her hand over her mouth and Sam looked on in bewilderment. Steve on the other hand was quick to take one of the blankets they were using to wrap the hostages and made his way over to Tony. He also was watching your movements. Most of your face was hidden by Tony’s shoulder, but he could see your eyes staring straight ahead and brimmed with tears. As he approached your eyes shot to him, and Steve nearly faltered. Your (e/c) struck him heavily, filled with something other than sadness and the only word he could describe it was deadly.

You detached yourself from Tony as Steve came near, hunkering back to press against the wall. One knee was pressed to your chest while the other kneeled to the ground, watching Steve’s movements. Tony quickly grabbed the blanket from Steve’s hands, and the sound of SHIELD arriving behind them filled the empty halls.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tony whispered, and placed the blanket around your shoulders.

Tensions had never been that high. Not since SHIELD fell.

Because of the victims they found, they had to be brought to a safe SHIELD facility to begin reconditioning. That’s what they called the process of beginning to heal these people from the torment they had to endure. When they would get onto the large quinjet (a bus they said), the victims were carefully given a sedative, and would sleep for the next day. That gave the agents time to put them into their own rooms and check every vital sign that they could run. Assess their health and try to find out who they are.

When they would wake up someone (a psychologist or similar) would go in and start talking to them, and analyze their reactions. From there, they hoped to learn anything about what had happened to them, and try and rehabilitate them.

But in this case, Tony wanted to be apart of every step. The doctors on the other hand thought it would be best to have someone else go in when you first woke up. Tony would then call them an idiot and Steve or Natasha (most of the time both) would have to step in and calm him down.

“Tony you have to listen to them,” Nat would say.

“How is someone else going to evaluate my sister? I know her better than anyone else,” he replied.

“But Tony.. She’s gone through an extremely traumatic event, she isn’t going to be the exact same.” Steve would remind him.

Tony would then get frustrated and storm away. Several hours into the ordeal and Pepper was arriving on the scene. Tony and her were alone for a few hours, well into the night and weren’t seen again until the morning. The next time Steve saw him was before you were expected to awaken, and Tony looked tired. But in all honesty so was Steve. Neither had slept all night.

“I’ll only agree to this on one condition,” Tony said. The doctor looked annoyed but allowed him to continue, “I want Steve to be the one to talk to her.”

Steve stood a little straighter at that. He wasn’t 100% surprised but he was still taken aback. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

“Of course Tony,” he replied and Tony smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Rogers.”

Inside the room you slowly awoke, eyes fluttering open as you fought your way out of the sleepiness. The room was bright, making you quint for a moment as you regain your composure. You sat up fully, almost robotically as someone on the other side of the mirror would note, and the blanket that was covering you fell. You looked down at the clothing you were in, a long sleeved shirt and some soft pants, and you threw the blanket off the rest of your body. You didn’t like unfamiliar places. You carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed and pushed yourself to stand.

The last 48 hours were still a bit hazy. You had returned from an intel mission, being ushered inside to the dark and dank building and into interrogation. They believed that you had blown your cover and contacted someone from your past. They knew who you were, and you knew as well. But you wouldn’t dare try that. You weren’t stupid. You were always watched when they sent you out. No matter what you collected from them, or who you killed for them - there was never to be trust in your case.

But who would blame them. If you were alone, you would have tried to flee back to America in all honesty. They had tortured you for hours before throwing you in with the others. Each cowering against that wall as you were all watched. And that’s when the attack happened. But you truly never expected to see Tony.

You turned around the room, wondering where he was. Your thoughts were cut short when the door opened suddenly, startling you. You were quick to hunker back onto the bed, in that crouched position and protecting your back by pushing against the pillow on the bed. Your eyes locked with the man who walked in.

Tall, broad, and handsome. But a stranger in ways. You didn’t know him personally, but could remember the stories your father would tell Tony and you when you were younger. He walked in and it felt like he could command a room, and he did. His eyes didn’t break your gaze either as he made his way to a chair on the other side of the room. He sat down, hunching forward to rest his elbows on his legs.

“How are you feeling,” he asked first. You had never been asked that. Your eyes scanned him up and down, he noticed easily, not that you tried to hide that. You were assessing him. He knew that. You chose not to answer. He didn’t let that affect him though.

“My name is-”

“Steve Rogers,” you finished. He nodded, hearing your voice fully for the first time. It was distinct, strong in a way he didn’t know how yet, but laced with something sweet. He nodded at you though.

“Do you know who you are?” he asked.

Your eye twitched a bit, a reaction you couldn’t control. You broke your eye contact with him to glance at the two-way mirror and then to your hands. One laid on your leg that was close to your chest, and the other on your thigh. You didn’t answer but nodded in response.

“What’s your name,” Steve pushed. You shook your head ironically.

“(Y/N) Stark,” you said, and looked back up to meet his eyes, “I could never forget.”

Steve nodded, sitting back in the chair and motioned a hand to you, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not particularly, but I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You asked. Steve didn’t reply to this, instead he threw a glance at the two way mirror as if searching his reflection for an answer. You moved to criss cross your legs to sit more comfortably, and grabbed the pillow to place in your lap. Steve’s eyes met yours again but this time they looked different.

They looked vulnerable. You inhaled and sighed deeply and cast your eyes down to the ground, and Steve leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs. He wanted to show he was listening and that you could trust him, but a part of him knew that you may not feel that right now, but he wanted someone else to know that. Someone on the other side of the glass. The two people in this quiet room had the same objective. They wanted to show Tony that they could be strong for him.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #tony stark #tony stark x reader #stark!reader #avengers #avengers fic

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #katriona cassiopeia #charles cromwell #jacob cromwell #my art #my writing #GAAAAHHHH BILLLL #I LOVE YOU SO FRIGGIN' MUCH MY PRECIOUS BOY ;~;#you go be a good big brother and best friend for carewyn you wonderful thing #also ooh hoo hoo~ orion you can claim you're not crushing but you aren't fooling anybody hahahaha #you'll figure out what you're feeling soon enough >D #we're learn more about how magic works in this universe as time goes on of course #but yeah rest assured there's still a lot to unravel in regards to what happened to jacob... >>#and of course this part is another reminder that charles cromwell is a no-good son of a b****

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yyuangss-main · 4 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS | w.ushijima

Anon said: please please please do a part 2 to career !!

First, happy birthday to my number one husband in Haikyuu, Wakatoshi ❤️ It’ll be mine soon as well on the 16th. We stan getting old. Second, let it be known this is technically kind of Ushijima x Reader x Iwaizumi. Heavy on the Iwaizumi. Third, The Talk Shit Five is something I made up with Haikyuu friends and I will probably make a SMAU with them. And fourth, have fun reading!

Word Count: 2k+ Words First part can be read here

It has been two years since Wakatoshi found out you’re Iwaizumi’s girlfriend. According to the male, your relationship’s been great. Iwaizumi wishes that Ushijima could meet you since their friendship had been rising in recent times. But due to Ushijima now being a part of the Scwedien Alders, it almost seemed impossible.

“Thanks again for helping me.” Iwaizumi rolled his neck after placing the plastic bags on the table. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot the most important thing.”

“No need to stress yourself about it.” Ushijima started sorting things out. “People will not get here until later.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Iwaizumi decided to have a cookout, feeling it was too long since all his friends were reunited. “Did we get the coal?” Ushijima furrowed his brows.

“We had to buy coal?” Iwaizumi face palmed.

“Damn it. I don’t want to run out there again. I’m gonna call Yahaba and see if he can bring it.” The black haired male stepped out from his kitchen, typing away on his phone. Ushijima preoccupied himself with the task in front of him. Iwaizumi took a few minutes to come back.

“Yahaba’s getting the coal and (Y/N) is almost here.” Iwaizumi crouched down, rustling in the white plastic bags below him. Ushijima stopped moving, feet frozen in place. You were almost here? This is not good. And he can’t bail out now. Iwaizumi had trusted him to be of assistance.

“Ah. Guess I’ll finally get to see her again.” Ushijima mumbled.

“Yup. You guys’ll get along.” Iwaizumi’s hand placed the box of spoons on his countertop. “Since you two are Shiratorizawa grads.” Ushijima said, ‘mhm’ so he could go back to his internal panic.

What will it be like to see you? Would you walk out and not come back? Had you told Iwaizumi the truth yet? Or did he already know?

They had all the essentials, heads snapping up to a loud knock.

“That’s gotta be (Y/N). Stay right here.” Iwaizumi jogged out the kitchen. There was no avoiding this now.

Maybe he could run out the back door and say he had an urgent call from Tendou that he was hospitalized. There was the sound of a squeal after the door opened and a kiss accompanied it.

“How was it?”

“Hajime! Kentaro is so adorable I wish you would’ve come!” Wakatoshi bit the inside of his cheek, marveled at hearing your voice. Too long since he last heard “Good luck then”. They are distant now, your voice barely distinguishable. “I know he’s coming later for the party but still!”

You were now rambling on while Iwaizumi repeated the word, “Baby,” doing his best to get your attention. Wakatoshi’s love for how passionate you get never left. He had his fair share of you rambling on and yearned for more.

“Baby. I want you to meet someone.” You were finally quiet, done talking about Kyoutani. “You might know him ‘cause he went to Shiratorizawa as well. Come with me.” There were footsteps heading to the kitchen. Damn, Ushijima can’t stand here and look awkward once you come in. Quickly, Ushiwaka pulled out his phone and spun to face the counter.

Now, he stared at the black screen that reflected his face.

“Hey—” Ushijima heard the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice and lifted his head over his shoulder. In half a second, your smile was wiped clean off your face. “Ushiwaka, this is (Y/N). It’s about time you two meet.”

Someone had to speak. Would it be him? Would it be you?

“Wakatoshi. Haven’t seen a glimpse of you since graduation.” You said, hanging your purse on the chair nearest to you. “How’ve been? Job doing you well?”

“I’m fine. I had a few problems but Iwaizumi helped me through it.” Ushijima returned his cellular device in his back pocket. “And you (Y/N)?” At least you were still on the first name basis.

“Ah, here and there with the photography. I’m booked with ten weddings.” You exhaled.

Iwaizumi seemed thrilled that you finally met Ushijima after the long time he spent trying to make it a reality. He didn’t stop from asking questions about how you two knew each other. It was awkward since it was only the three of you. Iwaizumi and Ushijima set up the tables in the backyard. They also brought out two coolers and the grill.

You were sorting the spoons and forks into cups to place on tables, ignoring Ushijima who’s eyes lingered instead of helping.

Matsukawa and Yahaba had to get there earlier since they brought the coal. The duo, currently completely angry about it now stood surprised with Ushijima’s precense. The two Seijoh grads gave a knowing look and gave it to you as well. Eventually came the rest of the guests.

They were the boys who played with Iwaizumi his third year. Kageyama, Tsukishima, Tanaka, and Kiyoko who graduated from Karasuno. Kuroo from Nekoma. Someone by the name Rintaro Suna. And a few people who you worked with.

Obviously Oikawa came “fashionably” late with nearly melted ice cream. His beige turtle neck made you forgave him. It was chaos once he reunited with you. Now Ushijima saw why you wanted to stay in Argentina with him.

Ushijima talked with Tsukishima, Kageyama, and Kyoutani most of the time. He felt much of an outsider seeing the connections Iwaizumi and you had with the others.

Tanaka, Tsukishima, Kuroo, Suna, and Iwaizumi were apparently what they called “The Talk Shit Five” after meeting at training camp. The Aoba Johsai graduates kept their relationship with Iwaizumi and you. Since Kageyama went to Kitagawa, you still kept in touch even after different high schools. Where did Ushiwaka fit in all this?

Your ex from Shiratorizawa that half of these volleyball players envied? That was his category.

Everyone began eating, sitting at the tables with their respected people. Your table consisted of you, Iwaizumi, Kyoutani, Kageyama, Ushijima, and Oikawa. All in that order at the round table.

“Excuse me!” Oikawa clapped his hands for everyone to listen to him. “Although I don’t have a drink, I’d like to propose a toast!” A water bottle hit his shin after he said that. Oikawa sent a glare in Iwaizumi’s direction. He bent over to snatch it up and picked stray grass off it.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. My drink goes to us! For our success, that we may all find our dreams and press on into the future!” Oikawa opened the water bottle with ease and took a drink from it. “And that Iwa—chan may be nicer to me.”

“Let me go!” Hanamaki grinned, nearly falling back from his chair. Everyone’s head followed Hanamaki as he stepped to replace Oikawa. The setter who spoke first went to sit down at his chair he got up from. “This goes to my dearest Matsukawa. Let’s finally get a job.”

“No thank you!” Matsukawa cupped his mouth.

Kuroo thought it’d be a good idea to go next, instituating a chain where almost everyone went. You’d just finished, dedicating your speech to Tooru and Hajime, your Kitagawa boys that were there in hard times. Ushijima knew hard times translated to your break up.

What did you tell them?

“Oh, calling me by the first name! Are you trying to kill me woman?” Oikawa’s flirty tone made you laugh. “Anywho. Iwa—chan’s heart is broken after losing the Shiratorizawa match, blech.”

“He’s not the only one heart broken by Shiratorizawa.” You replied, voice low now.

“Great! Since both of you are moody. Let me lighten you two up! Meet us at the front of the mall! Love you!” The line on the other side beeped before you could reply.

“Ushiwaka, why don’t you go?” Oikawa blinked at him. The wing spiker now awoke from his day dream, hearing everyone urge him on. They also cheering for him. Ushijima dragged his water along, clearing his throat. By now, the chairs were turned to face the so called stage.

“I don’t… Have something to make a toast about. So, I’ll do it for someone I was once friends with.” Ushijima said, adverting eye contact with you. “This person told me to never give up. They supported me in every step I took to be where I am today. They were with me through thick and thin. I made a mistake and lost them. But I haven’t lost their advice. I hope they’re doing fine today.” Ushijima let his eyes land on you. Your face was neutral. Yes, he’d stubly made a speech about you.

“To Ushi’s friend!” Tanaka, seated near the back, raised his soda can. Others replied in choruses of “To Ushi’s friend!”, drowning their drink in for the mysterious person.

“If I may go.” Iwaizumi left his soda on the table, right hand in his pocket. “This one, goes for someone I love so much—”

“Iwa-chan! You shouldn’t have!” Oikawa placed the back of his hand on his forehead, faking a faint. “I knew you loved me back. I’m wearing the dress.” Chuckling and snorting went around with Iwaizumi rolling his eyes. Ushijima was burning holes in the back of your head, guts telling him the speech was about you.

“Like I was saying. This toast is for (Y/N). The only thing I’ll ever thank Oikawa for, is getting you to hang with us again.” You couldn’t help but smile brightly, ignoring Matsukawa and Hanamaki recording from the sidelines. “I’ll get cheesy just this one time. You saying yes to be my girlfriend made me feel the luckiest. Having you by my side is what I needed to continue. You give me motivation. Every day, I wake up excited to see you again.”

Ushijima leaned his elbows on the table.

“I love you, Wakatoshi.” Your eyes were staring into his olive ones. “You mean so much to me.” Wakatoshi placed a kiss to your forehead.

“You mean a lot to me too. I’m thankful for you.”

“(Y/N), you’re the one who told me to never give up.” With each word, Iwaizumi took one step closer to you. “These past two, near to be three, years have been the best. And I wonder what it’ll be like with you for the ones to come.”

“Can you believe it’s about to be one year?” You were settled on his lap while he laid down on the bed.

“I can. And I am glad to have spent it with you.” Ushijima sat up half way, arms bringing you into an embrace.

“Who said you weren’t romantic?”

“You own my heart. I don’t want it any other way.” Iwaizumi now stood in front of you. “So, (Y/N).” Your happy expression went into shock. Matsukawa and Hanamaki, now closer with their phones recording. Oikawa, letting out a loud gasp beside you. Ushijima, feeling his heart sink further down. And Iwaizumi, kneeling down before you and bringing a black box from his pocket.

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” You played with Ushijima’s hair, back pressed against the itchy oak. Ushijima’s head was on your lap, eyes closed.

“I have. I’ve thought about it many times.” He said. “If a year like this was with you, I’d like to know what the rest of my life will be like.”

“Will you marry me?” The box was now opened, the ring inside showing itself to you. Iwaizumi giving you the rare, loving smile he showed to you.

‘Say no.’ Thought Ushijima. ‘Say no. Say no—’

“Yes! Yes!” Your arms through themselves around Iwaizumi’s neck. Kuroo and Tanaka wailed in the distance, clinging onto each other. Iwaizumi muttered, ‘I love you’ in your ear, giving you a kiss anywhere he could land it. There were claps spreading about as you and Iwaizumi stood up. Iwaizumi grabbed your hand, slipping the diamond cut ring on.

Ushijima leaned back, observing as the two of you shared a passionate kiss. Some of the people you worked with were taking pictures of it.

“Good luck then.”

He should have known that pain meant he regretted it. He should have chased after you like his legs wanted to. Then, that’d be him instead of Iwaizumi. Wakatoshi brought his hands together, clapping too. Congratulations, you’re getting married.

#difficulty level — hard #haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima imagine #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #hq ushiwaka #hq ushijima #hq reader insert #hq iwaizumi

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evienyx · 4 years ago

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I, for one, am glad that someone actually noticed that Tommy's character in the SMP is quite absurd in the way he views himself. Actually, if you look Nov 16th video, after Tubbo became the president, Tommy confronted Dream and said to him (in paraphrase), "How does it feel to always be the villain?" Anyways, my actual question is how do you feel and view L'manburg's independence? Why is it shaky? I have my own opinions but I am very eager to get yours. Thank you.

L’Manburg makes me so upset, because I have so much emotional attachment to it and it is one of the worst active systems of government I’ve ever seen.

That’s not what you asked me, though, so I’ll answer your actual question instead of just ranting about how awful the system of government is (seriously, I’m surprised it hasn’t collapsed, yet).

Anyway, yeah, L’Manburg’s independence is incredibly shaky. I would say that this stems from tension from both internal issues and external threats.

Let’s go back to the beginning of the country. I would say that the L’Manburg Revolution and the time from then up until around the announcement of the election would be when L’Manburg was the most stable. Of course, this isn’t saying much, considering the fact that this is right after the country is established, but, despite everything, everyone in the nation was working together.

Everyone stood behind Wilbur, and respected his authority. He was listened to, and he still listened to other people while still maintaining that authority. While people were still partially riding on the thrill of victory and independence, everyone was also focused on improving L’Manburg and helping it grow. Wilbur, at the time, was diplomatic, and he was a leader that everyone believed in. Part of this was likely because he had been the one to lead them to independence in the first place, but when the Revolution was won, Wilbur was officially declared president without any argument from any of the remaining members of the nation.

People stood together, and they listened to and respected the leader. Despite the fact that this shook a bit when the election was declared and other political parties began to emerge, up until the election, Wilbur’s authority was still strong and respectable.

When the election happened and Schlatt won, internal problems in the government itself arose in a way that they never had before, and yet L’Manburg’s independence still wasn’t shaky. Why is this?

Because both sides in this conflict (Manburg and Pogtopia) wanted for the country to stay standing at the end of it. Taking Wilbur out of the equation after his mental break, both Manburg and Pogtopia wanted L’Manburg at the end of it, and both of them had Dream sided with them at one point or another in the conflict. Even more, though, L’Manburg’s independence wasn’t shaky because, through all of it, up until the end, Schlatt kept a firm grip on his power over the people. He may not have been necessarily respected, but he was feared, and that was enough. At the end of the day, people listened to him, and he knew it.

When Schlatt said that when he goes down, the country goes down with him, he’s right.

On paper, Tubbo being president seems like a great idea.

Theoretically, it should have been.

Tubbo has always worked to make the country the best it can be. He follows the rules first and puts his own desires second. People tend to like him, and he has good ideas, and he has only the country’s best interests at heart.

After L’Manburg is retaken and blown up, in the aftermath, Tubbo speaks of dreams of a city sitting above the rubble, a country raised from the ashes, better than before. He calls on those who have been disrespected and torn down by previous administrations and raises them to stand with him. He wants their ideas, and opinions, and he makes himself as equal to them in power as soon as he possibly can.

This is when those little shakes in L’Manburg’s independence begin to become tremors.

Tubbo should have been the best president the country had to date, but he can’t be, because he can’t even be president.

No one respects his authority. People go against what he says when they don’t align with their own interests. One of Tubbo’s main goals, even if it doesn’t seem that way, is to separate himself as much as possible from Schlatt. We see this right from the beginning with how he says everyone gets equal say in what happens. However, because of this, any time Tubbo tries to exercise the presidential power he has, people don’t respect it, and it doesn’t work, because they simply call him ‘the new Schlatt’ and ignore his pleas to just think.

These internal issues become even more pressing when one considers the external issues. In particular, conflicts with other nations. While L’Manburg is not in conflict with any other nations as a whole, necessarily, they have been at odds with Dream (who, at this point, is a faction all on his own).

L’Manburg’s independence is shaky because they do not respect their leader in any situation, not even ones of conflict, with great consequences. Ones where it is the president’s job to make a choice.

We see this the most clearly at play would be on the day of December fourth, the Exile of TommyInnit.

Before the Meeting with Dream, Tubbo, Tommy, Quackity, and Fundy all talk about what the plan is. Tommy declares that exiling him gives Dream exactly what he wants (and Tommy’s right, but that’s a whole other thing), and that instead they need to make a stand and fight. Basically, Tommy is saying that they should go to war. Quackity and Fundy agree. Tubbo, though, who is the president, says that he doesn’t like this plan. Dream always has the upperhand. They can’t just fight their way out of this one.

As we’ve seen for the two weeks up until this point, no one listens to Tubbo. He attempts to be the voice of reason in the conversation where he should be the one leading. He is the president, after all. The lack of respect that everyone present has for Tubbo’s authority is even more apparent if you consider the fact that just two days before the only reason they got into this situation in the first place was because nobody listened to Tubbo.

If we take all relationships, all emotions and connections, out of the equation and look at the choice that Tubbo needs to make logically, the answer of what to do becomes incredibly clear.

Logically, the right choice to make is to exile Tommy.

This is a choice that the leader of a country is being asked to make that either hurts one person or hurts the country as a whole. I have a whole other thing on the motivations and justifications on Tommy’s character that I’m not going to get into at the moment, but, logically, Tubbo made the right choice.

Tubbo had to make a choice between saving his friend who, despite being justified and having his reasons and the like, still did burn the home of the leader of the enemy nation, and saving his country, full of innocent people who have already lost lives, who are just looking to live in peace and safety, from a war that they would not win. As a friend, the choice he made was not the right one, but as a president, it most certainly was. He cannot sacrifice the good of the entire nation, he cannot pull his country into war, all for the sake of one person who did, technically, make a mistake.

Still, though, when Tubbo ultimately makes the choice (which is, in the end, his choice to make, regardless of what anyone else says), Tommy, Quackity, and Fundy argue against it. As Tommy is led away by Dream, Quackity and Fundy scream at Tubbo, tell him he’s acting like Schlatt, and, despite everything they’ve been saying before, do not respect Tubbo’s authority or the fact that this is his choice to make. They only say that, in the end, it is his choice when Tubbo seems to be on their side.

Tubbo, Fundy, and Quackity are, at the moment, the top authorities in L’Manburg. Quackity, though, is also running his own nation, and engaging in possible wars and acts of terrorism, while Fundy is preoccupied with things like visiting Tommy and working through his own issues. Tubbo is trying to lead the nation, but he isn’t able to because nobody respects his power or authority anyway, so he is unable to do anything because he isn’t able to be president.

There is a reason why L’Manburg’s independence is so shaky, and why whenever he felt like it, Dream could take down the nation and reclaim the land for himself, and that is because Tubbo, as president, does not have the respect of the people, no matter how much they may insist that he does. If a war was to happen, the country would collapse very quickly the way it is, because unlike before with the Revolution and the Pogtopia Rebellion, they would not have a leader who everyone respected and listened to. Instead, they’d have Tubbo, a boy who started off his presidency by watching his home be blown sky-high, who has not gained the respect of the people, who people do not listen to or respect the authority of, and, no matter how much it hurts to admit it, L’Manburg, in this case, would fall.

I have so many problems with just the system of government that L’Manburg is founded upon, but that’s not what you asked, so I won’t go into that right now, lmao.

I hope this answered your question without feeling too much like aimless rambling.

...I’m too invested in these block people.

#mcyt #ask #ask away #dream smp #l'manburg #that is how i spell it #ive decided #tubbo #tommyinnit #dream #quackity #fundy #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #technoblade #jschlatt #a lot of ppl agree w techno #and this does nOT MAKE IT ANY BETTER #JUST MAKE A WORKING SYSTEM OF GOVERNMENT PLZ

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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 4 years ago

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Christmas Cookies

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings - uh none?

summary - Reader tries to convince Spencer that christmas isn’t all that bad

Spencer was all about Halloween. The costumes, the decorations. He loved every single part of the holiday. He was having the most fun on Halloween enjoying his traditions. However, like most Halloween people he didn't exactly love Christmas. And his girlfriend is more than happy to help change his mind about the holiday.

"Isn't this all a bit much?" Spencer asks as you balance yourself on one of the dining room chairs to try and hang the stockings. "I mean it's just gonna be us."

"That doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves," You tell him. She smiles lightly as she steps off the chair to look over your work. "Alright, do you like it?" He smiles lightly.

"Yeah- you do know there are no written records of the origin of the Christmas Stocking?" He tells you. A dorky smile across his face. "people have tried to write the legend or match stories up to explain the lore- the most accepted one is about St. Nicholas wanting to help a poor family but because the father was so stubborn he couldn't just hand over anything to help. So he dropped gold into stockings that were hung by the fireplace to dry." You nod along to the words. Enjoying the fun fact.

"And now they are normalized for most countries," You add, "well- do you like these? The embroidery kinda got a little sloppy." Spencer gives you a soft comforting smile.

"I love them," He assures you. You nod lightly. Moving back to the tub of decorations. It was mostly leftovers of things that just didn't fit with everything else. "It's very winter wonderland in here."

"I love it," You smile, "alright I'm gonna start making cookies- which do you prefer chocolate chip or sugar cookies?"

"Sugar Cookies are more seasonal," Spencer starts, "am I supposed to be helping you?"

"Yes spencer," You tell him. He chuckles. You move to take his hand. Pulling him along to the kitchen. He groans slightly. Once in the kitchen, the two of you start pulling the ingredients out of the pantry. These were clearly your addition to the household. Spencer maybe cooked a handful of times and year and he baked even less than that. So when you moved in you filled the shelves with things to make it almost seem like the people in the house take care of themselves. You both set everything on the counter. "Alright let's do chocolate chip first- they are easier to make anyways."

"Who decided that?"

"Me- why Spence are you gonna argue it?"

"No no just wondering," He says as he pulls down the mixing bowl, "this thing hasn't been touched since my birthday."

"Is that your way of saying you want me to bake more?"

"I mean I wouldn't be opposed," He says chuckling lightly, "it's always a good time for cookies made from scratch." You nod as you grab the measuring cups. "I mean if it isn't too hard."

"Maybe I'll make more but only because you're cute," You say as you pull his hands into yours, "and I love seeing that smile." He chuckles lightly. You move to pull him into a quick kiss. After you break the kiss you move to start measuring out the flour. "Do you have something else you want? Maybe something to take to work with you?"

"We work together-"

"I know that but you travel- I just sit with Garcia," You tell him, "if you don't want any that's fine I just figured I'd offer-"

"No no- I want some," He assures you, "maybe those pumpkin cookies? I know you only really make them around Halloween." You nod lightly. "But they are my favorite."

"Pumpkin cookies it is," You tell him pouring the sugar in, "but I'm sending you with Peppermint candies. You'll have something festive." He chuckles. "I'll make you like this holiday damn it."

"By buttering me up with sweets?"

"If that's what it takes," You say at once, "can you hand me the chocolate chips?" He moves to hand them over. You add them into the bowl then hand it over to Spencer to stir. He takes it and moves.

"I don't know why you always give this to me it's not like I'm any stronger than you," Spencer says as he starts to stir the dough, "it's counterproductive."

"It's busywork," You tell him, "when you do stuff like this I get to hear you talk and I love listening to you talk." He smiles lightly. "So pretty boy tell me some more facts?"

"Alright- Modern Christmas cookies can trace their history to recipes from Medieval Europe biscuits that's when many modern ingredients such as cinnamon, ginger, black pepper, almonds, and dried fruit were introduced into the west," Spencer starts, "the 16th century they were popular around Europe. Each country tended to have one traditional biscuit. For Germany, it was called that Lebkuchen. It's mainly made from honey-"

"Oh speak more Germany to me, love," You say with a bright smile.

"Oh you're testing my knowledge," He says running through his thoughts to remember the translation. "Ich denke, du bist so schön." You smile. Not knowing what the words mean but just knowing that you love watching Spencer like this. Watching him show off how smart he is. Other people thought he was a show-off when he did this. You always loved watching him use that big brain of his. "Wanna know what it means?"

"Hmm depends."

"On?"

"If I'll think it was more romantic when I couldn't tell what you were saying," You tell him.

"I said that I think you are so beautiful," He tells you. You smile at the words.

"Thank you, Spencer- but that sounds like you're trying to score," You chuckle. A cocky grin covers his expression. You move to pull him closer to you. Tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Is that what you want? To get in my pants, pretty boy?"

"Well, I'm never opposed-"

You chuckle loudly. Turning back to start placing the cookies on the baking trap.

"Think you can take over this part?" You ask him. He nods. Lining the trap along with the balls of cookie dough while you start on his pumpkin cookies. "can you hand me the flour Spence?" He moves handing over the bag. You give him a quick mischievous smirk as you grab a pinch full of flour and toss it at him.

"Really?!" He asks at once, "and you call me a child."

"You look so pretty- even covered in flour," You chuckle.

"Hmm let's see if that works both ways," Spencer says. He moves to grab a whole fistful of flour and tosses it over at you. You chuckle in a slight offense as you attempt to wipe off the flour from your clothes. "Beautiful even covered in flour." You roll your eyes lightly as you move to dump the cup of flour into the second mixing bowl. "You wanted my help love."

"Oh, I'm enjoying this," You tell him, "you having holiday fun. Absolutely amazing." He chuckles lightly. "wanna get those in the oven?"

"Sure," He says. He places the tray into the oven. Moving to set the timer. He turns back to see you working on getting his pumpkin cookies together. "I'll wash the bowl so we can work on the sugar cookies next."

"Doing the dishes- wow Spencer that is seriously hot."

"I do the dishes!"

"I never said you didn't- but by the way, I do them way more than you do," You say as you stir the dough, "you think the waters gross so you whine-"

"I wasn't whining-"

You nod lightly. Moving to cute the cookies into the shape of sweaters. Hoping to add some festive flair to them. Spencer moves placing the now clean mixing bowl onto the counter. He starts on the sugar cookie batter.

"Sweaters huh?" He asks.

"Like little Christmas sweaters- or your little sweaters," You tease. He nods. A light smile across his face. "I assume you remember the recipe?"

"Even if I didn't have an eidetic memory with how many of these we had to make last year I don't know how I could forget," He says as he moves through the recipe. You chuckle lightly.

"Hey all of our coworkers loved it," You point out. He nods lightly.

Last year the two of you made about 10 batches to hand out around work. It made your coworkers day. Plenty of smiles and laughs with the baked goods.

"Besides stuff like this means I get to spend more time with you," You smile.

"Always a good thing," He says moving to start stirring the batter, "why haven't we got a mixer yet?"

"Because I asked you for a mixer for Christmas," You chuckle lightly, "besides we always forget how much we want one until we bake anything which is only on birthdays and holidays."

"Okay well- I'm going to make sure that you get your stand mixer," He chuckles, "mostly because I hate all of the mixing." You laugh loudly. "But also because I love you." You roll your eyes playfully as he sets down the ball of dough. He moves to roll it out to cut out the shapes as you set the second batch of cookies in the oven. "Do you want more facts about Christmas cookies?"

"How dare you even ask- of course, I want more Christmas cookie facts," You say as you turn to Spencer. He laughs lightly. Always excited to share is knowledge. Especially when someone wants to know. Even more so when someone as beautiful as you asked.

"Gingerbread originated in the Crusades and was originally made using breadcrumbs, boiled with honey and seasoned heavily with spices," He starts, "It was pressed onto cookie boards which then was nothing more than carved slabs of wood with religious designs and dried. People were said to only be allowed to make the cookies themselves around the holidays because the rest of the year laws restricted its baking to guildsman."

"Guildsman?" You ask, "hmm well I guess that's one way to protect jobs. And cookie boards- kinda like cookie cutters."

"Yeah, that's how it evolved," Spencer tells you, "cool right?"

"Very," You tell him, "God I love that big brain of yours. Seriously Spencer." He gives you a big smile. You move cupping his cheeks.

"You love my brain?"

"I love all of you," You tell him, "but I adore your brain. I love listening to you talk."

"I knew you were perfect," He teases. You laugh lightly as you move into his arms. He wraps them around you tightly. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Spence," You tell him. He moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Du bist die Liebe meines Lebens," He says softly.

"Mm, what does that mean?"

"You are the love of my life," He says quietly. You smile moving to pull him into a soft kiss. His hands fall to your waist. Placing them carefully. Making sure not to move them without permission. Your hands tangle in his hair. Pulling him into an eager kiss. He moves backing you up against the counter. Careful not to be too forceful that he hurts you. Still, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss.

You move back at once as the timer blares. You move to grab the cookies from the oven at once then shoves the other tray inside. Spencer helps set them on the cooling racks. Y/n chuckles as he yanks his hand back.

"Spencer, you okay?"

"Yeah the cookies are hot- you think I would have known that." You both chuckle lightly. He smiles. "I've got another cookie fact-"

"Oh well, please share my love," You tell him.

"Another place in history where we see the cookie shapes being significant for the holidays is in colonial areas where the Church of England was influential. They call it mumming Christmas stories were acted out and food was used to help depict the stories," He explains, "am i boring you?"

"Not at all," You reply as you watch him carefully.

"Alright well in the 1800s, Pennsylvania Dutch children created large cutout cookies as window decorations now they were made with tin cutters and shaped like people, elaborately decorated with icing the closest to gingerbread men since they weren't religious," Spencer explains.

"We should make gingerbread men then," You tell him, "go traditional... Spencer, we could make gingerbread cookies of ourselves!" He chuckles lightly.

"That's dorky-"

"You're calling me dorky?" You ask him, "really? Are you kidding me?"

"It's dorky!"

"You break my heart," You tell him, "we could make gingerbread people for all of our friends. Tell me that wouldn't be adorable."

"Yes it would be cute but I don't even think we have the supplies for gingerbread cookies-"

You look to him pouting lightly. He sighs.

"I'll run to the store," Spencer gives in.

"Thank you, baby," You say brightly.

He's quick about getting to the store. Working through the aisles quickly to gather everything his girlfriend needs.

"No Penelope he's at the store," You tell the blonde on the other line, "gathering cookie ingredients."

"Oh baker Reid," She starts, "awe I love when you two bake. You always get such cute pictures."

"And it's so nice to spend time with him," You tell her, "normally we get days like this every couple of months at best... I'm waiting for JJ or Hotch to call me and ruin my fun."

"Don't speak it into existence," Penelope says, "Kevin is on his way over with a bottle of wine and a good time- and if I lose that I might go berserk." You laugh lightly as you place the sugar cookies on the cooling rack. Before turning back to the homemade icing. "I need a night in my prince's arms."

"Tell me about it," You chuckle, "Between the cases and Spencer almost dying every other week I really need this time with him. Even if it's just us making cookies." Penelope chuckles.

"Don't you dare tell me there won't be more," She teases.

"I don't know for sure," You say honestly, "depends on if Hotch lets me have my boyfriend for the night." She laughs lightly. You could hear the door open. Spencer calls to let you know he's home. "That's him Pen."

"Oh please give me all the juicy details on our Doctor Reid later!"

"Bye Pen-"

"Bye Y/n!"

You hang the phone up and move to toss it onto the counter. Spencer hands over the bags.

"Who was that?"

"Garcia," You tell him, "she was asking me to share some juicy details about our sex lives."

"People actually talk about that stuff?" He asks clearly a little embarrassed.

"I mean yeah," You chuckle, "I don't tell her everything if you are worried about that."

"No, I'm not worried about it-" He's starting to get flustered. You take his hand gently. He sighs. "Did you tell all the girls at work?"

"Just Penelope," You tell him, "and it's only small things. Like romantic gestures. I try not to say anything that I know you wouldn't want me to." He nods lightly. "Now wanna start making the cookies while I get your pumpkin cookies iced."

"Of course Malady," He says brightly. You move carefully icing the cookies as he starts on the cookies.

"You never told me what you want for Christmas," You point out.

"I want a whole day just the two of us," Spencer tells you.

"That is out of my hands," You tell him, "but I'll try my best to make it work." He nods lightly. "Anything else you want?"

"Uh- books," He tells you.

"Books? Any book?"

"No - I'll make a list," He says at once. You nod turning back to the cookies. "Anything you want that isn't the mixer?"

"Your love."

"You already have that," He chuckles. You turn to finish icing the cookies before starting on the sugar cookies. Spencer watches you carefully as he works on the gingerbread cookies. "Come on you have to want something else."

"I want you to take me to go look at Christmas lights," You tell him. He smiles lightly.

"I can do that," Spencer tells you.

"I knew I picked you for a reason," You say brightly. He moves setting the dough on the counter so you both can cut out the shapes. After you get them cut out he tosses them in the oven. You look over to him eagerly.

"What?"

"You're so handsome," You say brightly, "and I love you." He chuckles lightly. You take his hand carefully. "Christmas movies?"

"Depends... Which one?"

"Hmm, Polar Express?"

"Perfect," He says softly. You move to pull him along to the living room. He gets the movie set up as you climb onto the couch excitedly. Wrapping your arms around him the second he lays back down. You move resting your head on his chest. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest. As you keep your eyes on the movie Spencer gently plays with your hair. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you, love," You say softly. He moves pulling you closer to him.

"You know if we get to be like this then maybe I'll start to like Christmas," Spencer starts.

"Oh we can be like this all the time for Christmas," You tell him, "even better- we can have matching pajamas."

"Matching pajamas?"

You stand moving to the bedroom. Digging through the bags until you pull out matching pajama sets.

"I was going to wait until Christmas eve to get these out but I think we can manage getting them now," You say as you toss a set over to him, "you like them?"

"I love them," He says.

"Perfect because I told JJ we'd wear them to her Christmas party," You chuckle.

"Pajamas?"

"Her and Will are wearing their own matching PJs," You tell him, "it's just a cute thing... We don't have to."

"No no I like it," Spencer tells you. You aren't convinced he's telling the truth but you don't mind. This stuff is more your speed anyway.

"Well then let's get them on," You tell him. He nods. moving to pull off his sweater and replace it with the red Christmas top. You smirk slightly as you look over him. "You're so pretty."

"You always call me pretty," Spencer says as you toss away your top.

"Because you're pretty," You shrug, "sorry love." You move pulling on the pants. Spencer adjusts his slightly. You were a little worried it wouldn't fit right considering how tall and lanky the bastard is. "Please tell me that fits. They didn't have anything that was longer the wasn't also bigger and I didn't want it falling off of you."

"It fits fine," Spencer assures you. You move to take his hand carefully. He smiles widely.

"Come on we have to get the cookies," You tell him. He nods as you lead him out to the kitchen. Spending the rest of your night baking and watching holiday movies.

Spencer was sure that as long as you were by his side he'd give the holiday a chance.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal mind oneshots #christmas with spencer reid

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ms-rampage · 4 years ago

Text

Eden’s Gate: Aftermath Chapter 7 - Now That The World Is Ending

Warnings: Cuteness, Gabriel holding baby/toddler Daenerys

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: In the final chapter of Aftermath, as the bombs drop down to Earth above their heads. The Winchesters have a surprise guest living with them.

Guest OCs: Just the usuals.

Guest Characters: Archangel Gabriel [Supernatural], John Seed [mentioned]

Note: Next is NEW DAWN: NEW HORIZONS. Taking place 15-17 years later in the year 2035. THANK YOU FOR READING MY CRAP!!!!

Far Cry New Dawn x Supernatural [crossover with OCs]

********

“Gabriel?!?” Kate mutters in confusion, and also in surprise. He looks up at the two sisters, with a soft smile on his face and weakly mutters “Surprise to see me?”. That question was directed towards Kate, and she smiles back in return.

Surprised and also happy to see her Archangel.

“How did you g-” Paige asks, before stopping herself when she realizes it was a stupid question, “That was a stupid question”.

They help him up, and take him to the main room. Sitting him down on the living room couch.

“Gabriel?!?” Mandy mutters as she walks into the room. In shock and surprised to see the wounded celestial, bleeding a little through his shirt.

Paige leaves her mom, sister and the Archangel by themselves to go get Kenny and the others. Mandy then stands up, and goes to grab a first aid kit, or something that can heal an Archangel. Leaving Kate and Gabriel alone. She takes a seat in front of him. They look at each other for a few seconds.

“What happened?!” she asks, opening his shirt, and cleaning his wound on his stomach.

He shrugs, and softly groans in pain “I’ve sorta lost my powers”.

She furrows her eyebrows at him, “Sorta?!?”.

He sighs, “I’ve lost some of my powers when I was cast out”.

She looks at him, confused, “Cast out?. What do you mean cast out?”

He looks at her, “I’m sure you saw the giant mushroom cloud in the sky”. She nods, “Yeah, we all saw it”.

He shifts in his spot on the couch, “Did you see what else appeared in the sky shortly after?".

Shaking her head, “No, we all ran down here. What else happened?”.

He looks her in the eyes, and says in the most dramatic way possible, “All Angels were cast out of Heaven”.

Her eyes widened, “What?!?. All of them? Everyone?". He nods his head slowly, she stands up from her spot, and paces. Worried about her boyfriend, her friends and everyone she got to know in Hope County. Playing with the bracelet Wheaty gave her. Her thoughts are interrupted by the wounded Archangel on the couch in front of her.

“A boyfriend huh?” he asks, chuckling and looking up at her.

She looks at him confused, “What?!?”.

“You got a boyfriend?" he asks, "Or had one".

She tries to hold back her tears, biting her lip “Not helpful Gabe” she mutters softly. Standing there in front of him, her hands resting on her cheeks, looking at the floor. Her anxiety builds up, and her hands become shaky.

Gabriel stares at her stomach, just something about it looks different to him. It looks slightly bigger, like she put on some weight. He can’t seem to put his finger on it, but whatever it is he can feel some strange essence, or some sort of energy coming from it, coming from her body. She has a slight glow on her face, but it could be sweat.

Kate notices him staring at her stomach. “Why are you staring at my stomach?!?” she asks, glaring over at him. Breaking his focus on her slightly bigger stomach.

He looks up at her, anticipating for her to slap him for asking the question, “Don't hit me for asking this but, did you gain weight??”.

She scoffs at him, rolling her eyes, and crosses her arms. Taking a few steps away from him, “You never ask those types of questions to a human Gabe”.

He tilts his head, curiosity getting the best of him, and motions her to come towards him, “Come towards me”. She heeds, and walks towards him, standing in arms reach. He places his hand on her 7 and a half week baby bump, and feels why his curiosity is concerned about her belly.

His eyes widened, he looks up at her with his eyebrows raised “You’re pregnant?!”.

Feeling somewhat hurt that his special human is pregnant with another man's child.

For a moment she forgets that she’s carrying another tiny human being inside her, she nods her head, “Yeah. I am”.

"And it's not mine?!" he jokes, totally not hurt that his human is pregnant. Moving his hand away.

She scoffs again, "We both know the outcome for that". Taking a seat next to him.

"You were there, you knew I'm pregnant" she tells him. He looks at her confused.

"I was where??" he asks, very confused. She looks at him in disbelief, thinking this Trickster is messing with her. "In my hallucination trip. A few months ago" she tells him.

He looks at her like he has no idea what she's talking about. Shrugging, "What are you talking about??".

She shakes her head, "It's nothing. Forget it". She drops the hold thing, she knows what she saw in her bliss hallucination a few months ago.

A few moments later, Paige walks back into the living room with Kenneth, Cody, Martin, Mark, Nate and Adrian.

"Gabriel?!?" the 6 men say in unison.

The Archangel chuckles, "Did you all rehearse that?!".

He catches them all up on what was happening in the world. Angels, all of them were all cast out of Heaven, God tried to wipe out all of humanity with a nuclear explosion. The Collapse. The Reckoning. The Apocalypse. The End. The whole world is up in flames. Literally. Heaven is shut down with no one but God up in cloud city.

*****

May 2019. 7 months later

It’s been 7 months since the bombs were dropped. After several hours the bombs stopped falling, and you'd think everything would be safe to go back out. Nope, knowing that you're gonna have to live underground in a bunker with 20 other people for the next 6 and a half years. After 2 and a half months the world has now ended but it's only just begun.

No other bombs, or explosions have been dropped by The Man upstairs. The World was going through the route of regrowing, and being reborned. Starting over again.

On May 2nd, Kate gave birth to a healthy baby girl. A few weeks earlier on April 16th, Paige had a C-section giving birth to triplets, 2 boys and 1 girl with the help of Cody, his wife and Adrian’s wife Amanda delivered all 4 of them. Having all the right equipment in the bunker infirmary, stored away.

Jeffrey Dean Winchester-Smith named after her cousin, Dean. Weighing 7 pounds, and 5 ounces.

Thomas Sam Winchester-Smith also named after her cousin, Sam. Weighing 7 pounds, and 5 ounces.

Bianca Rhea Winchester-Smith because she's always liked the name Bianca. Weighing 7 pounds, and 4 ounces.

Daenerys Arya Brienne Winchester named after Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark and Brienne of Tarth all female characters from Game of Thrones. Being the smallest of the 4 infants, weighing 6 pounds, and 5 ounces.

Cristina is over a year old. 1 year, and 6 months old. She is now walking, she has almost all of her teeth, and can say 7 to 10 words. She is able to comprehend language, and know from right from wrong. From good from bad.

The triplets are a little over a month old now, Daenerys is 2 in a half weeks old.

During her pregnancy, Gabriel was very protective of Kate, even though they were all living underground in a huge bunker, and couldn't leave for another 6 in a half years.

Cradling her 20 day old daughter in her arms, Kate feeds her a bottle of formula. Gabriel was very cautious around her, afraid that he'll somehow hurt the tiny infant. Even though he has very little to no powers left in him.

He tried to keep a safe distance from her, Kate constantly reminded him that he didn’t need to worry about hurting the infant. That he and Daenerys will be fine. He is very fond of humans, of course, unlike most celestial beings. That was his one fear, hurting her.

"You wanna hold her?!" she asks him. He looks up at her, stammering. "Uhh, do-do you want me to?".

She smiles at him, "It's fine with me" she responds. She hands him the tiny infant. He holds her, cradling her and she starts to fuss in his arms. Making her typical baby sounds.

He groans uncomfortably, holding her away from him, stammering “Uhhh w-what is happening?!?”.

“She’s fine” she reassures him, fixing her baby blanket, “It’s a normal infant reaction”.

She starts to calm down, yawning and falling asleep in Gabriel’s arms with her finger in her mouth.

“What’s happening?!?” he nervously asks, “Is she dead?!?”.

She looks at him, chuckling, “She’s not dead. She’s asleep”. She takes the infant from his arms and puts her in her old bassinet.

Paige comes in holding one of her triplets. “Hey” she says, looking down at the one month old infant in her arms.

“Hey” Kate responds, “Which triplet is that?”.

She groans unsurely, and checks the diaper, “Thomas, and/or Jeffrey”.

“It’s Thomas!” Kenneth calls out from the next room over, “You’re holding Thomas!”.

She points in the direction where her husband's voice came from “The 2nd one. Thomas Sam”.

“How’s the scar?” she asks, referring to her C-section scar.

She groans uncomfortably, “It’s healing. Slowly, but it’s healing”.

*****

Later that night, Everyone is in their own bunker rooms. Kate is in hers, changing Daenerys into her night onesie.

Talking to the infant in a soft voice. Gabriel, who is a few rooms over, can hear Kate and the tiny human with the very little powers he has. Leaning against the headboard of his bed, listening to her conversation.

He knows he’s Kate’s Guardian Angel, he saved her several times, he gripped her tight, and raised her from perdition when she was a somewhat innocent teenager. He’s her soulmate as well. He has had these feelings for her since forever. He knows she would be better off with her boyfriend before God dropped the bombs on humanity, but he’s most likely dead. John? He’s dead as well, and he knows damn well that Daenerys is his kid. He knows Kate is ashamed that she’s his kid, regardless she loves her.

He couldn't possibly imagine how Daenerys would've turned out if John Seed had lived. How he would've treated Kate, how that demented, psycho family would've treated a pregnant Kate. A premarital baby. How that sadist psychopath would somehow ruin Kate and their baby.

He gets up, and goes to her room. Walks down the hall and knocks on the door.

“Yeah?” she responds her voice muffled from behind the closed door. He opens the door and steps inside her bedroom.

“Hey” he sighs, “How she doin’?”.

“She’s doing great” she answers, taking a seat on her bed. Gabriel takes the leap of faith, not holding back.

“I just wanted to get us over with” he tells her. Kate looks at him confused, “What are you talking about?!?”.

He lays down on her bed, laying on his side with his hand prompt up against his cheek. Looking up at her.

He lifts up his free hand from behind him, and holds a diamond ring between his index and middle fingers. Her eyes light up, and gasps softly.

“You already know where I’m going with this” he chuckles, “Will you marry me? Blah, blah, blah. I love you. Blah, blah, blah. You could do so much more better than that idiot Yes man John Seed”.

She laughs softly at his comments, “So. In all seriousness” he continues, “Will you marry me?”.

She looks at him, “You already know the answer” she whispers to him before passionately kissing him on the lips.

Katella Evyanna Winchester is set to marry an Archangel. Archangel Gabriel. She always thought of herself as the human he had to protect. That’s all she thought she was to him. His human.

*****

A few years later, November 2022, the children are all 3 years old, Cristina turned 5 years old that same month.

Daenerys, the youngest of all the children, wakes up at 6:00am, which is unusual for a child at her age to get up at, and feel energetic.

Her and the other 4 Winchester children share the same bedroom, across the hall from their parents rooms. She stumbles to Kate and Gabriel’s room, pushes the door open and climbs onto their bed.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she says loudly, waking them up.

Kate groans, as her daughter steps on her with her tiny feet. She sits on Gabriel’s chest and playfully slaps his cheeks. Waking him up.

“What?” he asks, half asleep. She giggles softly, “Wakey wakey”. He chuckles softly, slowly sitting up.

He looks over at the clock, “It’s 6 in the morning, how are you so energetic?!” he asks the 3 year old child.

She lets out a playful giggle, and jumps up and down on their bed.

She looks up at the child bouncing on the bed, having the same exact eyes as John. Those baby blue eyes that she got from him, a reminder that this little bundle of joy and happiness is also John Seed's daughter.

He gets up out of bed and carries the 3 year old child down the bunker hallway towards the kitchen.

Despite him being an Archangel with very little of his powers. He manages to get 3-6 hours of sleep, and eat solid foods. Not wanting to use his very little powers in fear that he’ll hurt any of the children living in the bunker, he manages to get by without using them, he knows the world above them is going through some change, a huge massive change that'll change everyone's lives.

But finally being able to marry the human he fell in love with, and fathering her child, he was more than happy to be a part of their lives.

Paige and Kenneth walk into the kitchen shortly after, her holding Jeffrey and Thomas in each of her arms. Kenneth holding Bianca, and Cristina following behind him.

"Here you go" Paige mutters, sitting the two toddlers in their seats at the kitchdn table. Everyone else wakes up half an hour later. Adrian, and his wife Amanda. Mark, his wife Dana and 2 kids. Nate, his wife Ellen and 3 kids, Martin and his fiancée Megan, Cody and his wife Brandy. Mandy, Barbara, Kenneth, Gabriel, Paige, Kate and their kids.

One bunker with 20+ people, and 1 Archangel living in it. 16 adults, and 10 kids. Having to spend another 2-4 years underground while the Earth regrows, and the radiation goes away. Its only a matter of time, and they can go back to their normal lives, or at least they think its their normal lives.

Hopefully, a new hope. A New Dawn. New Horizons will come their way.

19 notes · View notes