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hawkinshighdropout · 2 years ago

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Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: Your mental health has been getting bad again, worse than usual at least, and Eddie comes home at the end of the day to try and take some of the weight off of your shoulders.

Warnings: Mental health is mentioned in this briefly, not in any graphic detail and not really any specifics, but I wanted to warn y'all in case even the mere mention of depression and anxiety was triggering. There's a few sad tears but then it's full of supportive and comforting boyfriend Eddie, I didn't want to intentionally make anything to glorify or commodify mental health, this is meant to be sweet.

Note/Request: Requested by anonymous. “Hi! i love how you write for Eddie and I have never requested anything from anyone before so... here goes nothing I guess 😅 i've really been struggling with my mental health lately. everything has been setting off severe panic attacks, I've barely been sleeping or eating... it's been a rough couple months. i was wondering if you could write something about Eddie and the reader going through something similar? if you're comfortable, of course. if not, I understand!”

Word Count: 2.5k

Send me prompts to write about!

It’s been getting bad again… It comes and goes in waves, your mental health. Your social battery had been gradually decreasing for the last couple of weeks. Finding yourself to be far more irritable, sensitive, anxious. Smaller tasks begun to overwhelm you again and you found yourself residing most of your time in your room. Bed mocking you each and every night as you were laying restless and grew more sleep deprived. Things were supposed to be looking up, this was supposed to be your year. Not that you had any control over that realistically, you knew it would always ebb and flow, recovery wasn’t linear. You’d had so many good days that you almost forgot you could even have bad ones… Boy did you consider this a reality check.

You recognised the symptoms, the signs snowballing one after another as you slipped away. Dissociating more often, eating less, sleeping a /lot/ less despite the fact you practically lived in your bed when you could, even your general hygiene had gone down. Truth be told, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d showered or brushed your hair, it wasn’t something you had the energy to do as of late, it was a chore.

It was currently about nine pm for you, you were bundled up with blankets on the couch of Eddie’s living room. Eddie was your boyfriend, one you didn’t consider yourself deserving of. He was the light of your life, and you just felt like a burden. He never thought of you that way, not even for a second. He never even made you feel like that, those are just the harrowing and intrusive thoughts you felt on nights like these. The pair of you were happily in love, but nights like these tested your thoughts and put doubt in your head, constantly thinking he could do better.

He was none the wiser, he looked at you like you’d personally hung the stars in the sky, like you hand crafted the moon just for him. He thought you were God’s greatest gift, even though he wasn’t religious, he just truly thought so highly of you and loved you with all his heart, the way you truly deserved to be loved.

The front door closing in the distance is what took you out of your trance like state, blinking slowly before looking up at the bundle of joy walking through the door. You felt like you could breathe again for the first time since he left this morning. Having been out with his group of friends doing another campaign all day, this was the first time you’d seen him, the first time you felt at home. He had offered to stay home when he could see the look in your eyes, he made it abundantly clear that he would happily postpone to comfort you and be here with you, he didn’t postpone for anybody, that’s how you knew it was bad.

You’d insisted he go, you wanted him to have fun. He put so much love and effort into every aspect of his life, including his clubs, you wanted him to get the best out of his time and experience things freely. You didn’t want to keep him locked up in the trailer and suffer just because you weren’t doing great. He reluctantly left this morning with the promise of undivided attention when he got home, not parting ways with you until he had smothered you in kisses and reminded you that you were loved and cared for.

The corners of your lips threatened to tweak up into a smile as you saw him wandering towards you, his lips instantly pressing against your forehead as he crouched down to be eye level with you. His hands taking your own so he could glide his thumbs affectionately across your knuckles. He was so tender, so gentle with you, so scared that you might snap and break, like you’d crumble if he touched too hard.

“Hi, sweetheart…” he said, voice soft, “how’s my favourite girl, hm?” eyes scanning your expression to gauge how you were doing, a nervous smile on his lips.

“I’m… okay, I guess?” you didn’t sound convincing, not even to yourself. The sight alone of him kneeling down and being attentive made your voice wobble a little, feeling your eyes burning as they threatened to spill over with tears.

“You don’t have to lie to me, my love. It’s okay to tell me you’re not okay.” he reassured you, instantly causing you to hiccup as the first couple of tears spilled down your cheeks.

In a flash, he was up on the couch with you, arms around your midsection as you slumped against his chest. He adjusted the blanket so you were both bundled up, hands stroking your back and lips pressed to your forehead whilst he let you cry. He was good at this routine by now, which is a little sad to think about. He knew when to give you time to cry, and when to comfort you, and when to intervene and problem solve for you. You appreciated that.

After what felt like forever but was probably about ten to fifteen minutes, you’d resorted to just being a little sniffly and slumping against his chest. Seemingly all cried out. Or just too exhausted to continue, who knows? Once you were at a more relaxed state, Eddie pressed one further kiss to the top of your head and whispered fondly to you.

“Sweetheart… Look at me?”

Tilting your head up, his thumbs springing into action to delicately wipe the tears from your cheeks. Pressing the most loving kiss to the tip of your nose before brushing your bangs out of your eyes.

“Do you think you could stomach some food? Hm? Nothing crazy, just so something is in your system?” he would never pressure you or guilt you, he just wanted to provide options and comfort you in baby steps. Going at your pace so he didn’t make anything worse for you. You nod a little, you hadn’t eaten anything proper all day and the sheer mention of food made your stomach growl in response.

“Atta girl. How about you stay here and I’ll go make you some ramen, yeah? Sound good?”

Another silent nod came from you, gently shifting you so you’re comfortable and bundled in the blankets once more. Kissing your forehead as he wandered the few small steps away to the kitchen, he started to prepare one of your comfort meal, packed ramen. It only took a couple minutes of getting some hot water, cooking the noodles and adding in the flavours, but you watched fondly as he would dance about the kitchen softly singing to himself as he worked.

Placing the bowl of ramen on the mini dining table he’s got in the trailer, giving you the options of both a fork or chopsticks, accompanying the meal with a bottle of water fresh from the fridge. For himself? He just grabbed a Dr. Pepper and a handful of pretzels, mumbling that he had pizza with the guys earlier so he didn’t need anything real to eat. Sitting opposite you at the table, a fond look on his face as you slowly started to eat your noodles and sip at your water. You opted for the fork today, not having the energy to stumble your way through chopsticks.

“How is it, honey?” His voice still laced with love and affection for you, looking up from your noodles to smile across at him.

“It’s good… thank you.” the first words you’d really said since he got back, he was letting you be in your own head, giving you the space to just exist and be taken care of.

“Once you’re done, I was gonna hop in the shower. Did you want to join me?” He offered.

Nodding once again, you felt like you could shower if he was there to assist you. Something about him being about was just comforting to you, you didn’t catch the proud smile on his face that he gave you as you slowly chowed down. The moment you were done, he was happily scooping up the bowl and placing it in the sink to attend to tomorrow, taking your now-empty water bottle and placing it in the recycling.

“Let’s go, princess.” he said sweetly, kissing your temple before guiding you into the small bathroom. Flicking the shower on, making sure the temperature was warm, Eddie then started the process of undressing the pair of you. Stripping you both down to your underwear, making sure all laundry went into the basket, helping you take your hair out of its bun and making sure all jewellery was on the sink. Once all clothes had been slumped off of your bodies, you looked up at him for direction.

He hopped in first, acting like a Guinea pig, wanting to make sure it was warm enough for you both. Once it was to his satisfaction, he took your hand and helped you into the shower, closing the curtain behind you both so you didn’t flood the house. The first couple minutes of the shower were in silence, Eddie would take the wash cloth and put shower gel all over it, gently scrubbing you one limb at a time. You giggled as he ran the cloth across your stomach and sides as you were ticklish, resulting in a fond grin from the older man at the sound.

Your body was fully clean, and he wasted no time in grabbing your facial cleanser, applying some to his hands before giving your face a sweet little massage to clean you. Using the much smaller wash cloth to clean your face of any chemical residue. Repeating the same process with himself, cleaning both his face and body until the pair of you were squeaky clean besides your hair. Lathering his hands in shampoo, he gets you to spin on the spot, close your eyes and tilt your head back.

Taking his time with massaging the suds into your hair to scrub away any dirt or grime that had built up since the last time you washed it. Taking the shower head and cupping your forehead to make sure nothing got in your eyes, Eddie would rinse the shampoo out of your hair and let it wash down your back. He would repeat the same process with the conditioner, but of course he focused that on the ends of your hair instead. Making sure that all was rinsed out before you were allowed to turn back to him.

“All better, love.” He smiled, to which you smiled back. The first whole hearted smile he had seen from you in days.

He reached the shampoo bottle with the intention of repeating the process on himself, but you caught his wrist gently and stopped him from continuing.

“Allow me?” You mumble sheepishly, taking the bottle from his hands and pouring out enough to lather up. Eddie wasted no time in sinking down to his knees to give you plenty of room and access to his hair, his arms around your thighs whilst he pressed loving little kisses to your soft stomach.

Massaging the shampoo into his scalp, lathering up the curly locks with a soft giggle before you would cover his eyes for protection and rinse them from his hair. Repeating the same process with the conditioner as he has done to you, washing away any chemicals from his soft frame. Placing one last kiss against your stomach, he slowly stands and cups your cheeks in his hand.

“Thank you, princess.” He whispers, leaning down to press a few delicate kisses to your lips which you happily reciprocate.

“Not a problem, handsome.” You smile.

You both spend a little longer in the shower, mostly just letting your bodies relax under the warmth of the water, sharing a kiss or two every now and again as he would tell you all about his day. You listened with genuine intrigue, giggling or snorting whenever an embarrassing moment or funny joke was recited from his hangouts. Eddie turned off the shower and made sure to wrap his waist in a towel before enveloping your whole body in one as well. Standing behind you in the mirror and using his comb to gently brush out your hair so it would dry less frizzy later on.

Kissing your shoulder, he then stands next to you whilst you both begin the process of brushing your teeth together. Spitting, using mouthwash and wiping your faces clean before sharing another kiss. Taking your hand, Eddie leads you into the bedroom with a soft hum coming from his lips.

“Ozzy or Hellfire?” He asks, going through his pile of clean shirts, looking for something to let you sleep in.

“Ozzy, please.” You whisper, trading off his watch in your hand for the shirt in his, making sure he had his accessories before you wander back to the bathroom to change. You double checked that you were fully dry before putting the towel in the laundry basket and slipping on the Black Sabbath shirt he had given you, smiling to yourself that even when it’s clean? It still smelled of him.

Coming back into the room a few minutes later, eyes a little wide as the sheets had changed and Eddie was slumped back on his bed in just his boxers, playing with a dice in his hand to keep him occupied.

“There you are, hi.” He said like a giddy little child at the sight of you, shutting the door behind you as you climb into bed with him. It took mere seconds for you to curl up in his arms, him placing the dice down on the bedside table in favour of holding you and playing with your hair.

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper.

Shaking his head, kissing your forehead and bringing you closer with a squeeze. Feeling his fingers brush up and down your forearm whilst he shushed you. Everything he did was out of love, not out of needing praise and approval.

“Don’t thank me, it’s what you do when you love someone who needs a gentle hand every now and again.” He mumbled into your temple, pecking the skin there several times as you smile up at him. “You’re gonna have your bad days, and I’m gonna help you through them. Im proud of you, you know? Even if you’re just waking up and achieving something as small as mustering up the energy to toast some pop tarts or crawl out of your safety blankets and use the bathroom. I know they’re all small things you struggle with on days like this. But… You’re badass. Every day that you wake up and you don’t feel like you can do things? You still do. You still keep on pushing, you do your thing and then you smash it outta the park every single time. It’s pretty fucking metal when you think about it.”

“I love you.” You say proudly.

“I love you right back, doll.” He grins.

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years ago

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All That Was Fair

Chapter 33: Existing in the Bit That’s Left

Summary: Life goes on, whether we will it or not

Read on AO3

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 33: Existing in the Bit That’s Left

***

When a hermit crab dies, its shell is left behind, sitting at the bottom of the ocean. Empty and lifeless, it remains motionless as the waves cover it with sand.

Jamie had once owned a hermit crab. After it had died, it rattled him that the beautiful shell that looked so much like his pet remained even though the crab was gone.

Now, Jamie himself was nothing more than a hollowed out shell.

He knew his heart was gone, every ounce of love within him ripped away, but what had surprised him was that it was as if she’d taken his very body with her as well as his soul. He didn’t have the energy for even the most basic tasks. Food was tasteless. His vision seemed foggy. As tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep. Life seemed to happen around him, but he hardly managed to bring himself along with it. He was being buried under the weight of the emptiness.

Nothingness shouldn’t have been so heavy.

He spent three weeks laying in his bed. Barely eating, barely moving.

Jamie was aware that he was wasting away, but he couldn’t seem to care. Claire wouldn’t want him to give up without her. Even more compelling, he wouldn’t want her to act like this without him. Even as he’d sent her back through the stones, he’d told her to live a good life without him. He wanted her to be able to move on. Except he couldn’t bring himself to do the same, and he never would. After knowing the joy of a full life, there seemed nothing left for him in this hollow existence.

If he could have reached out and grasped onto some sort of hope in his new life without her— not that any seemed to exist— he still would have chosen not to. All the right decisions, the healthy decisions, the ways to cope and move forward— they all seemed like a betrayal. He didn’t want to move on; he wanted Claire back.

The first time he’d uttered the horrible truth of Claire’s absence outloud was when Murtagh had forced it out of him. His godfather had come banging on his door after Jamie had ignored his texts for weeks, eventually barging in on Jamie’s state of depressed chaos. He had dragged him out of bed, forced food down his throat, and shoved him in the shower. After Jamie looked less like a corpse, Murtagh coaxed the story out of him— at least, the only story Jamie could give.

“She’s gone,” he forced out. Hearing the words aloud was like a knife to the gut. He’d known they were true— every beat of his heart without the answering one of hers next to him made that truth abundantly clear. But being forced to say it aloud brought a whole new level of pain.

Murtagh clearly didn’t know whether he meant she’d broken up with him or died. His godfather tried to probe him for details, but Jamie didn’t have it in him to explain anymore.

“There’s nothin’ left for me,” Jamie rasped, “she was it. Claire—” his voice broke on her name, but he forced it out, finding some amount of reverence in the shape of it on his lips, “ Claire was my heart and soul. I dinna ken what to do, a ghoistidh.”

“Ye do what ye have to, lad,” Murtagh said firmly, “ye keep going.”

“How?” he looked up at him with tears shining in his eyes. “How can I keep going without her?”

Murtagh brows drew together as he grew thoughtful. His expression reflected the gravity of the situation. His godfather knew that he was desperate for a reason to keep going, crying out for help. Words couldn’t heal him, but something had to be said. Murtagh took his time before saying them, very carefully.

“Ye’re no’ without her, though. No’ really. Ye’ll carry her memory wi’ ye. Ye keep going, and ye bring her wi’ ye, even if it’s no’ in the way ye would have liked.”

Jamie swallowed the bile rising in his throat. All he could hear was buzzing, the cotton in his ears growing somehow thicker.

“I don’t want to,” he forced out, shaking his head, “I don’t—”

The meager contents of Jamie’s stomach rose, and he rushed to the trash can before collapsing to his knees and heaving into it. The grief in his heart tried to force its way out of his body, and he wished it could just end this and tear him from inside out. Murtagh hovered behind him, offering him a wet towel, and Jamie sat back heavily against the cool wall.

“I ken she wouldna want me tae give up,” Jamie said quietly, barely above a whisper, “but I just dinna want tae keep going.”

Murtagh’s eyes swam with emotion and his face crumpled underneath his beard as his brain came to a conclusion. Clearly his godfather thought the love of Jamie’s life had truly died. And she may as well have been to Jamie, or maybe she had actually di—

The fear that Jamie had been fighting for weeks rose inside him again. It was possible that Claire really was dead. More than just possible. She’d said coming through the stones had been torture, and she’d been so weak afterwards when Jamie had found her the first time she’d gone through. He could only imagine what the trip had done to his barely conscious lass, hanging on by a thread. Or maybe he had waited too long and it had been too late. Maybe she’d gotten back and was too weak to even draw energy anymore. Maybe she’d died on that hill, all alone, grieving his loss as much as he grieved hers.

This fear haunted him, both waking and sleeping, tearing him into pieces. Seeing Murtagh’s face as the man thought Jamie was mourning her death, Jamie wasn’t so sure he wasn’t . He wished he could know what became of her— anything to stop this horrible speculating that churned his mind. But he was left in the dark. Left to hold on to the tiny comfort that he had done what had to be done.

For his wife.

Jamie let his head fall onto his knees, hugging his arms around them so they were pressed tightly to his chest.

“Jamie. I willna allow ye to waste yerself away,” Murtagh said firmly. “I ken ye’re hurting, and I would never suggest ye ignore it. I only ask that you take care of yerself, even when ye dinna want to. If not for the memory of her, then do it for me, aye?”

He raised his red-ringed eyes enough to see his godfather, and he realized there was real fear lingering on Murtagh’s face.

As much as he wanted to let himself fade away, he could never do that to the man sitting in front of him who he loved so dearly.

“Alright,” Jamie agreed, “alright.”

***

When Jamie was young, his parents had a yearly tradition where they would send him to his grandfather’s house to stay for a couple of nights. His grandfather was loving enough, but every time Jamie went, he was overcome with intense homesickness. He would cry himself to sleep each night of the visit, feeling like the guest room was freezing to the bone as he imagined the warmth of Lallybroch.

Every day now felt like that homesickness magnified a hundredfold.

Claire had been the true home of his heart. Jamie longed and ached for her in ways he hadn’t known possible.

Only that home had been lost. And he was left lying awake at night dreaming of her warmth and missing her with every fiber of his being.

***

While driving on the highway during a long road trip, inevitably one will see a plastic bag being blown down the road. Aimless, empty, and completely at the mercy of the wind. Jamie would watch them sometimes, tracing their progress before they drifted away. But he never asked himself where it would end up because it didn’t matter. The bag would simply continue on, moving forward without a destination.

Jamie was no more than a bit of plastic pushed by the breeze. He stayed rooted to his life only by his promise to Murtagh. He began to go about his days with empty precision. He would wake up at 8, brush his teeth, eat one cup of parritch, and head into work. Every night he would come straight home, take a 30 minute walk around his property, cook himself dinner, and fall asleep to the murmurs of the tv.

On the rare nights when he allowed himself out of his robot-like trance, he would venture into the closet of the guest bedroom where Claire’s dresses still hung, and he would bury his nose in it, hugging it close to his chest, searching desperately for a whiff of her earthy-rose scent.

On those nights, he would cry himself to sleep.

Jamie continued on, but he had no idea what he was moving toward.

***

When he was a lad of about 5, he and Willie had gone out to the barn to play. They had a bit of rope with them, and Willie thought it would be fun to try to walk a baby goat like they walked their dog, Rufus. They’d fashioned a leash for the poor thing, but when the time came to “walk” it, the animal had simply laid on its side as he and Willie had dragged it through the dirt, wailing its disapproval but not moving a muscle until Jamie’s parents had run out and grounded them for a week. For the goat, there hadn’t been so much active resistance as simply a complete shut down.

When Jenny showed up at Jamie’s door one night, ordering him to get in the car to come over to dinner, Jamie had simply obeyed. Getting dragged was easier than fighting.

She’d driven him straight to Lallybroch, where she, Ian, and the brood resided, and Jamie somehow managed to find a weak smile within himself for the sake of his nieces and nephew.

As soon as he came through the door, he was overcome by a stampede of little feet and grabbing hands. Chubby arms wrapped around his legs, his hands were grasped, and his body became a playground.

“Weans! Where are yer manners?! Say hi to Uncle Jamie!” Jenny admonished.

“Hi, Uncle,” came the obedient responses from wee Jamie and Maggie.

Before Jamie even had a chance to respond, he was obliterated by an innocent, well meaning question that cut him the core.

“Uncle Jamie, where is Ms. Claire? Can she come to dinner too?”

Jamie froze, every muscle coiled up on instinct from hearing that name. He’d tried to numb it out, tried to let himself get dragged on through life without the roadblock that was any mention of his lost love.

Jenny knew, of course. Murtagh had told her about Claire’s “death”. Her face shown with sympathy as she watched Jamie stumble back onto the bench seat behind him. He sat down hard, pressing his hands to face, and peered down at wee Jamie.

His voice was thick, nearly unrecognizable, when he managed to force out the following words:

“She’s gone to live forever with the faeries.”

His eyes flicked up toward Jenny, whose face showed raw grief. She may not have liked Claire much, but hearing about her death spoken in such terms, or at least seeing Jamie like this, seemed to wreck her.

Only somehow, speaking those words— the truth, disguised as a fairytale for children— actually freed a tiny knot in Jamie’s chest.

Wee Jamie looked both disappointed and intrigued at the news.

“Gone to live wi’ the faeries?” he echoed.

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. He glanced up at Jenny again, and then back at the weans. Every thought in his head seemed to vanish, and he hadn’t decided to do anything, but his body was moving. He leaned down closer and gestured them toward him. Lowering his voice, he said, “can I tell ye a secret? If ye promise ye willna tell?”

Both children nodded eagerly, waiting with baited breath.

“Claire is a faerie. I found her on the faerie hill one day, and I took her in. She wasna meant to be here, you see, it was an accident. But we fell in love, and she decided to stay.”

“But why did she go back then?” wee Jamie asked.

Jamie swallowed hard. “She… well, she ran out of faerie dust. She needed tae go back to live with the faeries so she could have all the faerie dust she needs.”

Tears gathered in his eyes, and he had to blink hard not to shed them.

“I”m sorry ye lost yer faerie, Uncle Jamie,” Maggie said, reaching out her hand to rest it gently on Jamie’s knee.

He took it in his, marveling at just how small it was. But brought him comfort, and for the first time in the past three weeks, he thought maybe he wasn’t entirely alone in the world.

“Me too, Maggie. Me too.”

***

a/n: One more chapter to go in arc II, and it's a big 'un. See you tomorrow and thank you so much for reading!!

#the chapter deluge continues!!#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire

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captain-emmajones · 4 years ago

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let the cat out of the bag

Set during the missing year and expands until somewhere during season 3 B.

Pirates don’t have pets. Hell, Captain Hook -- terror of the High Seas -- does not have pets. So what happens when a devilish black kitten jumps aboard the Jolly Roger once Hook has taken it back from Blackbeard?

I asked @carpedzem what she would like to read, and this is what she came up with. Hopefully it will make you, and others, happy! (Oh, and all mistakes are mine!)

Fluff - 2000 words - Ao3

Tagging some friends who might enjoy this: @itsfabianadocarmo @killiansprincss @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @snowbellewells @elizabeethan

Happy Sunday and happy reading!!

At first, he believes they’re rats. He isn’t pleased about it.

“Mr Smee, I seem to recall I asked you to make sure there weren't any living creatures aboard this ship.”

He isn’t quite sure why, but Smee flushes a bright pink and starts stammering.

“...And I did, Captain, I did b-but --”

Killian Jones is a man of many things, but one of patience he isn’t.

“-- but what, Mr Smee? I don’t think it is that arduous to take care of such matters.” His words come out like sharp, drawn blades and threaten to slash his first mate’s round cheeks. “But if it is, I’ll make sure to ease you of this task.”

And he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth for good measure.

“I -- I will do everything I can, Captain.”

A smirk. “Let’s just hope that is enough, Mr Smee.”

But the thing is, it doesn’t bloody stop. The vermin keeps pestering him.

Hook wakes up to open doors, cannot stroll down the deck of the Jolly Roger without seeing a shadow run along with him, until, until --

“Now, what are you doing here?”

The troublemaker stands on top of his bed, on all fours, green eyes sparkling in the orange light of this late afternoon and seems quite ready to roar at his very face.

A petulant meow answers him.

“MISTER SMEE.”

He is furious, of course. Smee, however, thinks -- maybe, all things considered -- the plank isn’t so bad.

“I can explain every-everything, Captain…”

“I want none of your explanations, Mr Smee. I want you to get rid of this .”

A very indignant meow echoes on the ship.

“It must have gotten on the ship when we took it back from Blackbeard, Captain, and I hadn’t noticed for a while but then I could hardly throw him in the waters…”

A deep, guttural groan.

“As soon as we reach port, this thing is out of my ship. Have I made myself clear, Mr Smee?”

“A-abundantly clear, Captain.”

When he goes back to his cabin that night, stomach full and mind lulled by rhum, he doesn’t exactly expect to see the small nuisance lying comfortably on his bed, very much at ease indeed.

The thing is staring at him with its big, green eyes, and Hook frowns.

“Those are my quarters. Get out.”

Another impish meow answers him. If it could, Hook is convinced it would raise an eyebrow at him.

Another sigh of discontent. “I said get out of my bed. Now.” And as he stretches his hand to push the kitten out-of-the-way, it simply raises his head and meets its palm in approval.

Hook’s eyes widen. “Do you think I’m that easily charmed?” And as if to assert that yes, most absolutely, he is that easily charmed, the small cat purrs against his hand and licks his skin.

And Hook suddenly wonders why the hell he is letting this happen.

Clearing his throat, his hand closes over the small, black body and drops it onto the floor.

“There, and do not come to bother me anymore.”

A meow echoes in the night.

He wakes up to something fluffy tingling against his cheek and that alone rings an alarm in his head and causes his eyes to shoot open.

“What the hell…” but the end of his sentence dies as the small vermin stares at him, and seems to s m i l e at him.

Hook groans. “Get out of here,” he mumbles, and pushes the kitten to the side.

And he does not want to ponder over how gently he actually urged the cat to disappear nor does he want to think about the little, warm bubble swelling comfortably inside his chest (next to the big bubble of annoyance, of course).

The cat has been on the ship with them for two weeks when they finally reach port and can get rid of him. In the meantime, he has settled his quarters in Hook’s room.

“I see the kitten is quite fond of you, Captain?”

“Do you want to find out if the bloody plank is fond of you, Mr Smee?”

“N-no, of course, Captain, no.”

To prevent him from sleeping in his bed, Hook settled an old bed cover in the farthest corner of his room -- since the bloody thing won’t be kept out of it anyway.

“There, and don’t you move, you devil.”

He starts to call it that , in his head, the kitten: devil. It suits him well. And it makes it sound more pirate-worthy than kitten anyway.

He doesn’t utter the words aloud. Would rather walk the bloody plank himself. Pirates don’t have pets.

“Since I can’t trust you to take care of vermines on this ship, I’ll get rid of the bloody thing myself.”

And as his crew pillages and plunders a nearby village, Hook ventures out of his ship, the little devil gesticulating down in his satchel.

He isn’t even jealous of the lost opportunity. He hasn’t felt like pillaging and plundering in a while, now. Not since he left Storybrooke, not since the red-headed mermaid visited him and he --

Hook sighs and sits down, near the port, on a bench. His legs feel heavy as stone. He takes out of his satchel his flask of rum, and the little devil, and puts both of them down next to him.

“Don’t move,” he hisses but the small thing instead decides to stretch at his leisure in front of his nose.

“You’re one for mutiny, aren’t you?”

A cheerful meow answers him. And Hook’s lips curve up, just the slightest bit, before he catches himself and frowns furiously.

“I’m going to leave you here, you understand that?”

But the bloody thing apparently cares little for his words, and proceeds instead to climb up his lap and settles himself comfortably against Hook’s stomach.

It is his stomach’s turn to do a weird leaping thing then, as he squares his jaws and bites the interior of his mouth.

There’s been so much loss, hasn’t it? Perhaps he is allowed a little company. Perhaps the journey doesn’t have to be this hard, perhaps he does not have to suffer until the ends of time.

“You don’t want to leave me, do you?”

Other, human, green eyes linger behind Killian’s eyelids, savagely tear his heart apart, because she left.

A meow echoes in the night, and Hook’s fingers reluctantly find the warm, black fur and sieve through it.

“You are one bloody hell of a devil, you know that?”

Pirates may not have pets, but lonely souls do need company, don’t they?

When Hook strides back to the ship that night, and frees the small thing on the lower deck, Smee, at least, has the decency of keeping his mouth shut.

“Make one comment, Mr Smee, and you walk the bloody plank.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

Sharing his quarters has a lot of cons, if you’d ask Hook.

Such as cleaning his clothes of the devil’s hair, or making sure the small thing has enough to eat and drink, or waking up to it stretched across his bloody face.

But mostly, Hook does think the company is enjoyable. His partner does not speak, purrs at best, and seems to have some supernatural inkling for knowing when his Captain is feeling a bit...aloof, to put it like that.

Hook’s convinced the bloody thing is actually magic, but that he won’t ever tell no living soul.

When he gives up the Jolly Roger, Hook finds two green eyes staring at him.

“I cannot take you with me to Emma, you understand? I don’t even know if animals survive portals.”

A meow answers him, and for the first time Hook thinks it is full of grief.

Something stings, in Hook’s chest, as he waves goodbye to his crew and drops the cat into Smee’s arms.

“I’ll take care of him, Captain.”

“I know you will.”

And when Hook turns back, walks away, he ignores as well as he can this strange, new kind of itching rattling his insides.

Back in Storybrooke, Hook figures just to what extent Mr Smee is not a man for subtlety.

He basically throws the damn demon into his arms, on the docks, where everyone can bloody see them.

“What the hell are you doing, Mr Smee?”

Hook does not acknowledge the joy that swirls around his legs as the small thing purrs against him.

“Giving you back what is yours. I can’t take it any longer, he is insufferable.”

And Hook is ready to attack right back, as the demon nibbles his fingers with a cheerful fervor, but then the worst happens.

Emma.

Emma is striding towards him, with Henry, and he has a bloody kitten in his arms.

“Didn’t know you were one to have pets…” she attacks right then, Smee long gone, and the small devil very much settled in the crook of his arm.

Hook gulps down, almost frozen. Later, he’ll wonder why he did not put him down. That would have saved him some embarrassment.

“It’s not what you think, Swan.”

“Isn’t it?” she smirks, and then -- because things can always get worse -- she bends down towards the little devil and scratches between his ears.

But then she is smiling that very rare smile and Hook starts to think perhaps the little devil isn’t such a nuisance anymore.

“What’s his name?” she asks, and the things purrs , goddamn purrs under her touch, and Hook feels utterly betrayed.

“It doesn’t have a name,” he echoes right back, mock-indignant.

She raises her eyes towards him, quirks one eyebrow. It has a terrible effect on Hook’s heart rate.

“Come on, don’t lie. All pets have names.”

“No. Not this one. Actually, it’s not a pet.”

“Oh yeah, then what is it?”

The devil purrs.

“It's merely an animal that got lost on my ship during the missing year, is all.”

Emma’s smirking, again. And Hook isn’t blushing.

“Let's call you Sparrow, then.”

Something revolts inside Hook. It isn’t his name.

“Sparrow? And why the bloody hell is that?”

“Because Captain Jack Sparrow” echoes Henry on reaching them, giving up his video game to devote his attention to the small cat.

Bloody hell.

As things turn out, Emma never lets him live it down and everyone in Storybrooke knows Captain Hook’s cat, Sparrow, lives with him at Granny’s.

“I have a no-pet-policy, Hook, but for your pretty eyes I’ll make an exception.”

Hook swallows down a list of elaborate insults and plasters a smile on his face. “Why, thank you, Granny.”

One night, however, the bloody thing isn’t to be found in his room and Captain Hook does not worry about cats but he does stare out his window impatiently, trying to get a glimpse of a black furry tail -- not that he’d admit it.

But then something quite unlikely happens. Someone knocks on the door while he’s showering.

A towel around his hips, Hook opens to find Emma Swan in her pajamas, Sparrow comfortable between her arms.

If Hook’s heart skips multiple beats, it does please him to see Emma’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she takes in his state of undress.

“I’m-- I’m…” she begins, has a very hard time coming up with words, it seems, and then exhales sharply: “I found your cat in my room. Under my bed. Which is why it took me so long to find him, actually.”

Hook smirks. “That’s a plausible excuse for visiting me at night, Swan, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

She turns even redder, if that is possible, and that sight alone is priceless.

“Right,” she begins, smiling, “There you go.” And she gently drops the little devil between his arms, her touch sending electric trails all over his skin.

Hook gulps down as he notices how close they’ve gotten and he is tempted to bend down but that would be too much, wouldn’t it?

Instead he smiles, swallows down, and watches as she gazes back and forth between his eyes and his lips.

“Thank you, Swan,” he finally exhales and he watches as she seems to come to her senses, bites her lips and backs away.

“No problem. ‘Night, Hook.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

When he closes the door behind him, Sparrow is standing on his bed, green eyes open.

“I’ll admit that was quite a good idea, thank you mate.”

A meow of contentment answers him, as if to say: but you are most welcome.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #captain swan #amy writes #my stuff #this is ridiculous but hopefully the good kind

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demisexualemmaswan · 4 years ago

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till the summer comes again

Summary: “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”- Lewis Carroll Emma has been dating Killian for two years, and since then their family unit has only gotten closer. But that could change with the arrival of Eloise Gardner, Killian’s ex. Oh, and has Emma mentioned she’s pregnant? Not exactly. A sequel to six impossible things before breakfast.

[Read on Ao3] A/N: It is 10:40pmEST on my posting date for @csjanuaryjoy and here I am getting this right under the wire. I did not intend to be posting this late, nor did I necessarily intend to write a sequel for a fic that I wrote two years ago and quite frankly had no intention of continuing. But here we are. At any rate: enjoy this CS January Joy fic! --

Pregnant.

Emma stared at it for what felt like a minute, and then looked at the other one just to be sure.

Pregnant.

And then she picked up the third one just to be safe.

Pregnant.

A veritable tempest of very conflicting emotions all swirled within her. Joy. Excitement. Nervousness. Dread. Fear.

She nearly grabbed her phone to text Killian to tell him right away, but a wave of nausea was stronger than all of it and she put her head in the toilet. “Seriously?” she complained, her hand curling protectively over her stomach. “Your brother Henry wasn’t like this, you know,” she admonished softly.

“Emma?” A hesitant knock sounded at the door, and the timid voice of Alice, Killian’s daughter, wafted in gently. “Emma, are you sure you’re okay? I’m sure Papa wouldn’t mind just bringing some Granny’s home if you wanted to stay in. I could make you some tea while we wait.”

Emma closed her eyes and considered her options as she kept her head pressed against the cool porcelain. On the one hand, staying at home sounded nice. On the other, Henry and Alice cherished family dinner night at Granny’s. They would certainly be flexible if Alice’s concern was anything to go by. But Emma knew that with the teen years on the horizon, they would only get so many more of these together.

“Emma?” Alice repeated.

“Mom?” Henry’s voice joined Alice’s.

“There is no need to get the Spanish inquisition together,” she told them, sitting up. “Something’s not sitting right with me, but I’ll get some soup at the diner and it’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t we go to the diner, make the order to go and then bring it back?” Henry suggested. “That way Mom doesn’t have to sit so long but we can still go!”

“I’ll text Papa!” Alice said excitedly, and Emma heard the thump of her footsteps as she sprinted away from the bathroom door.

Emma just smiled affectionately, even though neither of her kids could see her. She had to stop that thought for a moment, reflecting on how much had changed in the past two years. Ever since that fateful incident with the bullies, she and Killian had worked and built a relationship and a life together.

They’d bought a bigger apartment together, although with two almost teenagers and now a baby on the way she’d have to reconsider her whole living situation and maybe they’d have to buy a house.

She loved the life that she and Killian built so far. He was attentive, caring, and so good with Henry. And she’d come to love Alice’s tender heart, her creativity, and her sweet tooth. Though she hadn’t articulated this to Alice or Killian yet, admittedly too afraid to break the contentment she finally experienced for the first time in her life.

Emma knew, logically, that both Alice and Killian’s hearts were big enough that this would only strengthen things and not break them, but the little lost girl that lived in Emma’s brain loved to remind her of Neal at every opportune moment and stop her from feeling secure in her relationship.

She was working on this. With Archie every week. Sometimes Killian was there and sometimes she was alone. But she was working on it every day. And she wasn’t alone and her relationship baggage. Killian had told her about Milah, who was not Alice’s mom but had been sleeping with him while she was married and that ended poorly. She could see it in the way Killian’s jaw clenched whenever Alice’s mom came up in conversation.

Alice had stopped asking after a while, but the weight of her mother and the unanswered questions sometimes hung in her interactions with Emma.

“Emma?” Alice had returned to the door.

“Mom, are you dead?” Henry asked worriedly, jiggling the doorknob.

“I’m okay,” Emma called back. “I just…needed a minute.” She quickly cleaned up the mess up so the kids wouldn’t stumble upon the pregnancy tests by accident. She opened the door and soon had her arms full of two twelve-year olds, who she squeezed close to her. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll still have family dinner, just like always,” she hummed. She leaned over and kissed the top of their heads. “Now go get your shoes.”

Henry dashed away to go get his shoes, but Alice stayed curled in close to Emma for a moment longer.

“You okay, star?” Emma asked softly. Alice smiled a little bit against Emma’s side. The one time Emma had called her “starfish”, Alice had made it abundantly clear that she was only her father’s starfish. So Emma had compromised and asked how she felt about star. So Emma’s star she became.

“Mhmm. Just glad you are too,” Alice said softly, gently squeezing her.

Emma’s nausea greatly protested at the action, but she wouldn’t dare let it show on her face. Alice clearly needed reassurance, which Emma was more than happy to give. “C’mon, let’s go get see your Dad, hmm?”

Alice beamed up at her and raced off into the other room. Emma couldn’t help but smile, knowing that in her heart of hearts that Henry and Alice would be incredible older siblings.

But first she had to tell them.

As per their usual tradition, Alice and Henry went scampering off to the jukebox to play some songs, but Killian said that since they were only picking up food to go that they needed to compromise on the song choice rather than switching the two.

Over her shoulder, she could see the two kids having like a good natured argument as they flipped through the song choices. Warmed in thought, she swiveled on the counter stool to look at Killian.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, love?” Killian asked worriedly, his hand gently cupping her face.

Two years ago, she certainly would have no idea how integral Killian would become to her well-being. And it wasn’t bad before when she lived alone. She could take care of herself fairly easily and her son.

But to have a true and equal partner, who she could depend on and support, fall back on and push up when they needed meant more than she could say. For the first time in a long time, with Killian, nothing ever truly felt like that much of a struggle. Sure there were arguments and tension sometimes, but with Killian…she didn’t feel like she was white knuckling her grip through life.

Except for the fact that she was white knuckling a napkin in her hand right now, but that was more from nerves because she wanted to keep things the way they were. They’d never talked about kids, though they were both fairly young parents.

Another child wouldn’t be completely unreasonable.

“Love?” Killian’s voice brought her back out of her head. “Is everything okay?”

Looking into his eyes, Emma was warmed by the love and support she saw there. “Yeah, uh…” she started shyly. Her heart began to pick up faster and faster in her chest. “There’s just…something I need to tell you?”

“You know you can tell me anything,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. She smiled and dropped her head, smiling at her lap.

“Yeah, I know,” Emma laughed softly. “It’s just…” She picked her head back up, only for her smile to fade. Killian’s jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes blazed as he looked beyond her. “Killian?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Killian snarled, jumping off his stool and striding toward a woman who was now standing near Henry and Alice.

“Hello, Killian.” The woman’s voice seemed pleasant enough, but it struck a chord with Emma in a way she did not enjoy. She leaped off her chair and ushered the children in close to her. The woman narrowed her eyes at Emma. “Who is this? And why is she near my daughter?”

“Your daughter?” Emma repeated, dumbfounded.

“You lost every right to call her that over a decade ago, Eloise,” Killian growled, effectively putting himself between Eloise and Emma. “She’s my daughter. How did you even find us?”

“I was interested in getting to know my daughter a little bit better,” Eloise replied, that too pleasant voice still grating on Emma’s last nerve. “I’ll certainly be seeing you all very soon.”

Emma felt Alice’s quivering against her side, and she held the girl a little bit closer. “It’s okay,” she whispered, watching Eloise’s retreating form. “You’re okay…”

“Papa?” Alice asked gently, gingerly peeking her head around Emma. “Papa, is she really my mother?”

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly taking in the confused and devastated look from his daughter. His gaze met Emma’s, looking for a courage or absolution, she wasn’t sure quite which. But she was more than happy to grant it to him.

She certainly was no stranger to shitty exes.

So she nodded and gave him a small smile, doing her best to communicate with him that it was okay, that they would work through this new trial together.

Killian exhaled calmly, and a little smile crossed his face as well.

When they got home, Alice and Killian went to Alice’s room to talk privately.

“Shouldn’t this be a family conversation?” Henry asked worriedly. “What if she comes back when Alice and I are at school or something?”

“It is not our place to demand to be a part of that conversation,” Emma said patiently. “If Neal came back, do you think you’d want Alice to know right away or would you rather talk to me first?”

“I’d definitely want to talk just us first,” Henry admitted. “But I’d still want to tell Alice.”

“I think she will,” Emma laughed softly, kissing his head. “Just give her some time. It’s…it’s hard for her.”

“So what can I do, Mom?” Henry asked, his gaze flickering to Alice’s closed door. “Alice is my best friend, she’s practically my sister. I don’t want her to feel like she has to do this by yourself.”

She proudly smiled at her son, her heart near fit to burst. Henry’s acceptance of Killian only reaffirmed that he would make a fantastic older brother to his new brother or sister when the time came. “They really are our family, aren’t they?” she asked softly.

Henry nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice of you to catch up,” he teased, his hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. The joy faded for a moment when he added, “But seriously, Mom? How am I supposed to help her?”

Emma reached across the table to hold her son’s hand. “I think you just ask her how you can best support her and follow her lead. She’ll tell you whatever she’s ready to tell. And if she doesn’t want to talk about it and not want to think about it, then you can distract her and make her feel better.”

Henry thought over this advice before hugging her again. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, kid,” Emma said softly, kissing his head as she cupped the back of it. “You know you’ll always be number one in my life?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Henry said. “But I can make room for some other people if need be.”

“Good,” Killian replied softly. “The Jones are quite so lucky to be loved by the Swans.”

She was so focused in giving Henry advice that she didn’t even see Killian enter the room until Henry got up to hug him tightly. Killian squeezed him before adding roughly, “Alice is playing Smash Brothers if you want to go play with her.”

Henry dashed off, leaving the two adults in the room alone.

Killian was quiet for a moment before he gently pulled Emma into his arms. “I don’t think I tell you what a good job you’ve done with him on your own,” he told her softly against her hair. “He’s an incredible young lad and his heart is so big…he’s really become such an incredible man without the presence of Neal…”

“He’s so lucky to have men like David and you in his life,” Emma murmured, wrapping her arms around him to give him all the comfort he could want. She held him for a moment longer before asking, “So, how can I best support you, Killian?” He took in a shuddering breath and she squeezed him.

“Whatever your history with that woman is, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Emma promised softly against his skin. “You know I’m always going to see the best in you.”

“And I you,” Killian promised, kissing the top of her hair. “Can we…can we go to the couch?” he asked and she nodded, gently pulling him along to the living room. She sat, and looked back at Killian and tilted her head as he watched her appraisingly. “Are you feeling better? The kids were saying you were poorly.”

“If we’re gonna do some sharing, I can share after,” Emma said, her heartbeat picking up again as she thought about telling him about her pregnancy.

Killian sat across the couch from her and gently took his hand in hers. “I…I was young. Just broken up with Milah and just…not wanting to deal with the pain of losing her. So I was a bit…promiscuous, thinking it would just make it stop hurting.”

“I’m sure you never ran in short supply,” Emma teased lightly, just wanting to see the smile back in his eyes.

He huffed a laugh and gave her a small but cheeky smile. “Aye, my partners certainly never complained except if they were telling me not to stop.” She smiled and gently squeezed his hand again. “And one night I met Eloise at the bar.”

He stopped, looking down again. Her thumb gently dragged across his knuckles and she waited for him to speak again. She didn’t say anything, just kept the drag of her thumb across his knuckles consistent.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Killian sighed. “I thought I’d made it clear that I didn’t want anything beyond a one night stand. But she kept coming to the bar. Or my coffee shop and…and she was a distraction. We didn’t do much talking. And it felt good…”

“But she kept pushing your boundaries and you were so hurt, and she made you forget that you hurt that it didn’t seem important to reinforce them,” Emma blurted out, guessing the story. His eyebrow raised a little and he pulled her into his lap with a strained laugh. “Trust me, babe,” she replied. “How do you think I ended up with Neal?”

Killian nuzzled her shoulder for a moment, as if to soothe the sting of the past. “It gets worse,” he admitted quietly. “She…she kept seeking me out to get pregnant on purpose. So she could trap me with her.”

“Oh my god,” Emma breathed in deeply, looking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Alice didn’t hear that part. “How did you get out with Alice?”

“A few weeks after Alice was born, I came home and she was just…gone. She left a note saying she wouldn’t be bound any longer and good luck,” Killian said wryly. “Little did she know that she gave me the greatest blessing of my life and it led me to the second greatest blessing of my life.”

“Granny’s?” Emma teased weakly, resting her head against his.

“Aye,” he laughed, kissing her shoulder. “Granny’s.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and her entire body seemed to relax in his hold. Even her nausea seemed to settle, knowing that he was here and holding her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me, love?”

Suddenly Emma’s whole world crashed down her ears, and her old wounds came kicking and screaming to the surface. She couldn’t possibly tell him right on the heels of that. What if he really wouldn’t be happy about having another baby? What if he thought she was trapping him just like Eloise did with him?

“Just that, um, I might take a personal day tomorrow so if you wanted to take Alice out of school, she and I can have a girl’s day,” Emma said softly, curling into him, hating how her nausea had returned full force.

Killian stilled, eying her again. After a moment, he seemed satisfied with what she’s said and relaxed as he held her close to his chest. “I love you, Emma,” he murmured softly. “So much.”

“Yeah,” Emma replied hollowly. “I love you too.”

Emma made sure to make Alice’s favorite breakfast—sunny side up eggs with a side of scrambled toast and orange marmalade—before the girl woke. She even made a plate for herself, delighted that her future child would give her something to eat.

When Alice walked into the room, her eyes lit up at the breakfast. “Is this for me?” she asked excitedly.

Emma laughed. “Of course. I figured you’d like your favorite breakfast on your day off,” she said, pushing the plate toward Alice.

“Your stomach seems to enjoy the marmalade,” Alice giggled. “I told you marmalade is great!”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Emma said fondly. “Well, today is your day and we can do whatever you want?”

“Whatever?” Alice asked hopefully, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. “Anything I want?”

“Yeah, it’s a self-care day!” Emma laughed. “So you tell me what you want to do today and we’ll do it!”

“Can we go to the library?” Alice seemed to get more excited by the minute. “And then the bakery?”

“You got it, star,” Emma said softly, grinning fondly. “And if you wanna talk, that’s okay. And if you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to do that either.”

The use of her nickname made Alice pause, picking nervously at her crust. “Emma?” she asked softly. “If…if Eloise becomes part of my life…am I still your star?”

“Of course,” Emma replied without any hesitation. “You’re my star, and yo—I mean Eloise can’t take that away from us. And just because she gave birth to you doesn’t mean she has to be part of your life if you don’t want her to be.”

“Will you get jealous if I do?” Alice asked quietly, still picking at the crust of her toast.

“I mean, I’ll miss you if you choose to spend more time with her,” Emma said honestly. “I like hanging out with you. Video game nights with you and Henry are my favorite. But also…if this is what’s going to make you happy, then of course I’m going to support you.” She leaned over and tapped Alice’s nose. “Besides…you have your father’s heart. I know you have plenty of love in your heart.”

Alice looked at her, the same way Killian had the night before. And then she gently leaned over to hug Emma tightly. “I love you, Emma,” the girl promised.

Emma would definitely blame the pregnancy hormones for the way she teared up and held Alice even closer to her. “I love you too,” she whispered. “And I can’t wait to spend the day with you, star. Should we go to the library first?”

“Yeah!” Alice said excitedly and bounded out of the room with unbridled enthusiasm.

Emma worked on getting dressed, pausing only once to run her hand over her bump, before heading out with Alice. She was relieved to see Alice’s viviacious spirit returned as Alice talked about all the books she wanted to read, what books she’d been waiting for, and what books the girls in her class were reading.

They were only a few blocks away when Emma had the strangest feeling something was wrong. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eloise following them, but Emma made sure that she kept Alice close.

She wasn’t entirely sure why Eloise was so close, and she hoped it was a coincidence. The lack of formal channels or communications made her nervous and Emma was worried about making a wrong move.

“Emma, can we go to the second floor first?” Alice asked, gently tugging on her hand. “That’s where are the old books are!”

“Lead the way,” Emma chuckled warmly. She made sure to duck around some shelves when they entered to see if Eloise was still following them. When Emma didn’t see her on the second floor, she let out quick sigh of relief, and watched Alice scamper down the aisle.

And then something collided with the back of her head and everything went black.

Emma had the faintest memory of weakly calling for Alice, for her daughter, faces swimming around her while her hand stayed firmly around Alice’s and then everything went dark again.

But she knew she was in a hospital bed now, she recognized the beep of the machines anywhere.

“Of course I want to bloody press charges!” Killian’s voice was a little too loud, but she was thankful that he was there. If he was with her, it meant Alice and Henry were safe. “She hurt Emma! She was going to kidnap Alice!”

He sighed, deflating a little bit at whatever response David gave him. “Yes, I can bring her down tomorrow to be interviewed. Emma is gonna need some rest…your detectives will have to come here, as Emma’s under observation for another day or too…”

Emma forced her eyes open and gently squeezed his hand. Killian’s head snapped toward her and his eyes filled with tears. “She’s waking up. Tell Alice and Henry that we love them so much and it’s all going to be just fine. Yeah. I’ll speak to your later Dave.” Emma couldn’t even get a breath in edgewise before Killian frantically pressed his lips to hers. “Hey,” she rasped softly. “I’m okay.”

“Aye, I know,” Killian choked out. “Eloise is my…but I still…and then the doctor told me that you…” His eyes searched hers and he realized. “That’s what you wanted to tell me yesterday, wasn’t it? That’s why you were ill…”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly. “I was so scared that after seeing Eloise you’d think I was trying to trap you in a life with me.”

“Emma,” Killian whispered softly, crushing his forehead against hers. “How could you possibly think that I’d be trapped in any kind of life with you? I love you more than anything besides our children.”

“Old wounds,” she replied softly. “Between the first time I did this alone and Eloise making an untimely reappearance I just…my fear got the best of me. I figured I could wait until things settled down before telling you…I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

He laughed wetly, gently pebbling her face with kisses. “Emma…you are such an extraordinary woman. My ex attacks you, and you’re still apologizing to me.”

“You do deserve an apology,” Emma said tiredly. “I hurt you but in a different way…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Killian promised. “You were trying to protect yourself from being hurt, and I’ll be honest…if you told me last night, I would’ve had a meltdown.” He nudged his nose gently to hers before kissing her cheek. “But if it means that much…you’re forgiven, love. I’m just so happy you and the babe are safe.”

“How are the kids?” Emma asked weakly. “How did Alice get away?”

“She started screaming bloody murder when she saw it happen,” he explained, his fingers dancing gently across Emma’s skin with the utmost love and reverence, and maybe to reassure himself she was still there. “And the librarian knew you were her mother, rather than Eloise who tried to tell the police that her daughter was having a psychotic break.”

Emma sat up abruptly, torn between the desire to find her daughter and comfort her and find Eloise and just start swinging. Killian seemed to read her mind and gently placed his hand on her shoulder so she’d rest again.

“So just to make sure…you’re okay with having a baby with me?” Emma asked.

“As if flowers mind the summer sun,” Killian replied tenderly.

“Well, technically too much sun tries up the flowers and—” He silenced her with a kiss that had her smiling against his lips. “Point taken.”

“Should we start thinking of names?”

But it was Alice and Henry who had named their little sister when she came into the world seven months later. They named her after the thing that they always got from being with one another: Hope.

#csjj #csjj2021 #blaire's writing

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transradar · 4 years ago

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hehe shitty fanfic time :3 heres one of my trans radar fics that i said id post. i cant write so please be gentle!!

It was the day Radar had been dreading since he set foot in Korea: the yearly check-up. He was surprised he has been able to squeeze through the draft examinations, let alone living in a medical unit for months. But now he was really in for it. The doctors here, unlike those at the draft board, were actually good. Well, maybe not Dr. Burns, but even he knew the difference between a Figure A and a Figure B!

And Colonel Blake. Radar didn’t even want to think about what would happen if (or should he say when) Colonel Blake found out. He could handle rejection from the others, but not the Colonel…

All this to say, Radar was very, very nervous. He couldn’t even sleep the night before camp exams. He spent the whole night tossing and turning, wondering what the army would do to him if they found out. He’d be kicked out, for sure, but what else would they do? A blue slip home? A trip to the funny farm? Each idea was worse than the last.

The next morning, he dragged himself into the mess tent for a cup of coffee. If he was going to face his inevitable doom, he might as well do it caffeinated. He’d have to force it down, though, because suddenly all food and drink had lost its appeal.

To Radar’s dismay, his uncharacteristic appetite loss was noticed by the rest of the camp. Hawkeye and Trapper were especially worried, it seemed. They plopped their trays down across from him, Hawkeye quipping, “Hey, where’s the horse you usually have for breakfast?”

Radar didn’t look up from his coffee mug, grumbling “very funny” under his breath. Usually a little joking snapped Radar out of any foul moods, so now the captains knew something was really wrong.

“Radar, what’s a matter?” Trapper asked.

Radar shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

The captains rolled their eyes at each other lightly. “C’mon, Radar, it’s gotta be something,” Trapper continued, “you lost your teddy bear? Pinin’ over a nurse? Nervous ‘bout gettin’ checked up?” The corporal flinched a little at that. Bingo.

“The exam?” Hawkeye questioned. “Aw, Radar it’s nothing to be embarrassed about! Us doctors see naked folks all the time!”

“Yeah,” Trapper continued, “you don’t have anything we haven’t seen.”

‘That’s what you think,’ Radar thought bitterly to himself. He said nothing though.

“Look, it if will make you feel better, me and Trap will do your examination, ok?”

Radar mulled it over. He guessed it was better than Dr. Burns or Colonel Blake… “Yeah alright,” he replied sullenly. He still wasn’t too happy, but it was either this or deserting, and he didn’t know how to get back to Ottumwa from Uijeongbu.

Before he knew it, Radar was sitting in his t-shirt and boxers on the cold examination table, his heart trying to leap out of his chest. Trapper and Hawkeye were in the other room getting his (slightly forged) medical charts. Radar was contemplating bolting, but his thoughts were interrupted by Hawkeye swinging the door open.

“Alright Radar!” Trapper said closing the door behind them, “it’s just us now, so take your shirt and pants off and we’ll get this over with.”

Radar gulped hard. For all his worrying about what would happen after the examination, he hadn’t actually thought about how he’d get through it. Should he say something? Or should he just do what they say and hope they don’t notice? Like they wouldn’t notice…

Hawkeye snapped his fingers in front of the corporal’s face. “Hey, yoohoo, Radar, come on!” Both of the doctors furrowed their brows. “Radar, seriously, what’s wrong?”

Well, might as well tell them then. “I, um,” he stuttered, looking down at his lap, “so uh the thing is sirs I uh-“

“Just spit it out Radar,” Trapper interrupted.

Radar gulped. “The thing is I uh, I don’t have a,” he pointed down at his boxers, “I don’t have that!”

Trapper raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t have a crotch?”

Radar shook his head. “No! I mean yes! I mean… I don’t have,” he gestured vaguely at nothing in particular. The doctors were still confused. Radar sighed and started over. “Ok, so you know how there’s, uh… Figure A and Figure B?” he asked. They nodded. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Well, uh…” he continued, “I’m uh, sorta, technically… a Figure A.”

It took them both a second to register, and then they both let out a sympathetic “ohhhhhh.”

“Well, uh,” Hawkeye started, “we’ll need to bend the truth a little on your records, but we can still give you a full examination. Right Trap?”

Trapper nodded. “Yeah. It’s not exactly ethical, but neither are we.”

For a few moments Radar stared at the doctors, slack jawed. “You guys would do that for me?” Despite himself, he felt a couple of tears gather at the corners of his eyes.

Both the doctors smiled warmly. “’Course we would,” Trapper answered, “what are aunts and uncles for?”

After the examination was done, Hawkeye gestured to Trapper to talk to him in the other room. This made Radar a little nervous, but they had already made it abundantly clear that they weren’t planning on reporting him, so he tried to quell his anxiety. When they came back, they both had wide smiles on their faces.

“Well, Radar,” Hawkeye started, a little more loudly than he needed to, “it looks like your testosterone levels are a little low.”

‘Duh,’ Radar thought, but he said nothing.

Hawkeye continued, “Dr. McIntyre and I both think it would be best to prescribe you some testosterone injections to level you out.” He made a point of winking after he said this.

Oh. Oh! Now Radar got it. Boy, did he get it. He wanted to jump for joy! But this wasn’t the time or place for that. Instead, he matched Hawkeye’s volume and said, “Oh, yes sir, thank you.” He grinned widely and winked back.

“Well uh, that’ll be all Radar,” Trapper said, handing him the prescription, “you just go ahead and get that filled and we’ll see how it’s treating ya in a few months. Sound good?”

Radar nodded profusely, taking the little piece of paper that was suddenly the most precious thing he owned (next to his teddy bear of course). “Yes sir, thank you sir!” he said. Then he leaned near the doctors and quietly added, “really, sirs, thank you.”

They both smiled affectionately, and Trapper gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “No problem, Radar.”

All in all, Radar supposed that, as check-ups go, this one was pretty great.

#mash #radar o'reilly #hawkeye pierce #trapper mcintyre #hawkeye and trapper are trans allies #trans radar #bad fanfics

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senlinyu · 5 years ago

Note

"I still think about you when I can't sleep" -dramione

“I still think about you when I can’t sleep,” Draco said, staring wistfully at the slender back of the witch who was pointedly ignoring him and digging further into a drawer of files in the dusty records room where he’d risked approaching her.

She froze for several seconds before turning her head enough to glare over her shoulder at him. Her face was screwed up with disgust. “Ew.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment before choking.

“No! Not like that. I mean—“ he felt heat staining his cheeks, “maybe sometimes like that—“

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the filing cabinet.

“I mean—I think about you. About the things we used to talk about. When you took me to the Muggle museums, going ice skating, visiting the aquarium, that cramped bookshop in Paris…”

She turned sharply, her arms full of files and her expression cold. “Yes. It was fun, our secret relationship that you were so careful to restrict to Muggle world where no one would see us. I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it so much.”

She marched past him. Her sensible oxford heels clicking sharply with each step.

His stomach clenched despairingly as he turned and trailed after her. “It wasn’t like that, Hermione.”

“It was exactly like that,” she said, her voice acidic.

“It wasn’t.”

She stopped and stared at him, her eyes burning and dangerous. “Do you think I’m stupid, Draco?” She raised an eyebrow. “We’ve known each other for what, sixteen years? At any point during that time have I given you reason to believe my judgement is impaired and my sense of reason questionable?”

She stepped towards him, and Draco’s heart rate shot up until the blood was roaring in his ears. She was right there, close enough to touch for the first time in weeks.

“Please tell me,” she flashed an insincere smile, “I really want to know.”

Draco swallowed thickly and decided it was a good day to die. “Well, there was one time.”

Hermione’s expression grew murderous.

He raised his eyebrows. “You dated an ex-felon for several months and didn’t seem to think it was going to have any repercussions on your Ministry career if people knew.”

She stared at him, her face turning white.

“Don’t. You. Dare!” Her voice was a forceful and enraged. “Don’t you dare try to pretend you were doing it for me. I didn’t ask you to protect me. I don’t need anyone to protect me. I didn’t want to hide it! Don’t you dare try to twist it and pretend you were doing it as a favour to me.” Her chest jerked as though she were fighting back tears.

“I swear to god, that’s why.” He reached towards her, and she recoiled, evading his touch.

Her eyes were swimming but her expression was venomous. “Right, now you’re here to lure me back into this relationship that was so harmful for me because, what? You care so much about my reputation but can’t help yourself?” Her face twisted into an eerily familiar sneer. “Go find yourself a stupider witch, Malfoy. I’m too busy with my incredibly important reputation and Ministry career to have time to listen you try to spin your way out of this and make it my fault.”

She pivoted and started walking rapidly away.

Draco stood staring after her, his heart dropping. He should have just stayed away. All he’d managed to do was make it worse.

He should just go. Go away and leave her alone the way she’d made it abundantly clear that she wanted him to.

“Hermione…” He was following her again as though she were a siren.

Her footsteps sped up.

He clenched his jaw and walked faster. He caught up with her as she turned the corner, catching her by the shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” She looked to be a split-second from kicking him in the shins.

He gripped her more tightly, leaning towards her longingly, his mouth dry. “Wait. Just let me explain once and I’ll never bother you again, you have my word, I’ll even make a vow if you want.”

She stared at him, her expression glacial. Several people in the hall glanced towards them and Draco instantly withdrew his hand and straightened.

Hermione’s eyes flashed with hurt. Draco swallowed and averted his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to ask you out,” he said, staring over her shoulder at a potted plant. “I never intended to. I assumed I’d get over it. But when you asked me, well,” he gave a pained smile, “I’m a spoiled only-child who’s always been selfish, of course I said yes. I assumed we wouldn’t last long and it’d be fine to let it run its course. I thought as long as I didn’t do anything to fuck up your life, I wouldn’t be doing any harm. I didn’t realise you’d think I was trying to keep you hidden as though you were some kind of indiscretion on my part. I am sorry. I should have said no from the beginning.” He swallowed and almost reached out at touched her.

He curled his hand into a fist. “I’m not here to try to get you back, I just wanted you to know it wasn’t you. It was never you. You were perfect. I’m sorry you thought it was. I’m sorry I’d already fucked over my future before I fell for you.” He inhaled and stepped back. “I wish you all the best, Granger. You deserve it.”

He nodded shortly and moved past her, feeling like he was going to be sick.

He never wanted to be honest with anyone ever again. He’d rather be crucio’d. Or by shot by one of those wooden and metal Muggle things. Muskets, he thought they were called.

He needed a drink. Fuck. He’d prefer a coma.

Now he had to walk all the way of goddamned Ministry pretending he hadn’t just ripped his heart out and left it with a witch who didn’t even want it.

The pounding rush in his ears was beginning to transform into a migraine.

“Draco Malfoy, stop right where you are!” Hermione’s voice cut through the suffocating fog in his head like the crack of a whip.

He froze and turned reluctantly to face her.

Her files no longer in her arms. They were laying in a pile in the middle of the floor. She was walking towards him, her face pale.

There were a number of people staring openly now. Draco swallowed.

She inhaled jerkily as she got close. “You—“ she started, her voice unsteady. “You are the biggest idiot I have ever met, and that’s really saying something considering how many idiots I know.”

Oh joy. He was going to be verbally masticated by her in a public hallway. Top off their breakup. This day could not get worse.

She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, her eyes burning with indignation. “I have never cared about what wagging tongues had to say about me, and I don’t have any intention of starting to care now.”

Before Draco could finish processing the statement, she took hold of his robes, jerked him forcefully forward, and kissed him right in the middle of the Ministry.

#dramione #draco x hermione #draco malfoy #dramione fanfiction #dramione fanfic #dhr #hermione granger #hermione x draco #senlinyuwrites #prompts #asks #anthology collection

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highqueenofelfhame · 5 years ago

Text

if i had a soul to steal/4.21/fourteen.

WARNING: IIHASTS Contains descriptions of graphic violence and explicit sexual content. Some parts may not be suitable for readers under 18. Reader discretion is advised.

“You’re fussing,” Aelin said, one brow quirked at Rowan while he checked the wound that was mostly healed and had been for a few days. On the table, a fresh pot of tea was steeping next to a teacup, ready for her to sip as soon as he was content. He had also gone into town again for supplies. Rowan had spent the last forty-five minutes in the kitchen working on toasting a baguette and making her a delicious soup that she’d already finished a bowl of.

“I’m not fussing.”

“You’re fussing,” Fenrys agreed from across the room, not taking his eyes off the TV.

It had been a long two weeks. Fenrys had been in and out, bringing them as much information he was able to gather, but it wasn’t much. There was no new information on the case, no new information on Aelin. Nobody seemed to know where they had disappeared to, and nobody seemed to suspect Fenrys. If they did, they weren’t saying anything.

“You were shot -”

“And now I’m fine! It’s been weeks since it happened. The wound is closed, it doesn’t look or feel infected. You’re going berserk for no reason.” Rowan sighed and sat down next to her, pulling her feet into his lap. Absently, he began to rub the soles of her feet and it felt so good that she couldn’t help the moan that fell from her lips. A moan that had Rowan tensing. He hadn’t heard her make that sort of sound since the night weeks ago when he’d awoken from a nightmare and sprinted across town to feel her body against his.

Aelin sat up and crawled onto his lap, ran her fingers through his hair. Her eyes followed the silver strands as they shifted and twined through her fingers, the color like moonlight spilling over onto her skin. Rowan tilted his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing as she leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m okay,” she said softly, kissing the other corner, alternating sides until she was pressing a soft but firm kiss to the center of his lips.

“I can show you just how fine I am,” she whispered, the tension between them a string pulled taut.

“Well I’m fucking starving,” Fenrys said, eliciting a laugh from both Aelin and Rowan. Aelin’s hands fell to rest on either side of Rowan’s neck. “And as much as I’d love a threesome, one with you two isn’t on my list.” And then he was leaving, mumbling about how gross they were under his breath as he closed the door.

Rowan’s hands ran up and down her sides and he leaned forward to kiss her again. It was a teasing kiss, one where he pulled away just as she tried to melt against his hard chest.

“Rowan,” she whispered, a frown tugging her lips down. Her finger traced the shape of his mouth, ran along the sharp shape of his jaw. “You were the only thing keeping me going when I thought I was lost to the world.” Her words were barely a whisper, her lips tracing poems over his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Against her thighs, his hands tightened to grip the pajama shorts she wore.

Rowan didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t have to say anything because she was going to show him that she was fine, he was going to show her how much he loved her, missed her with his hands and his mouth all over her body.

He lifted her with ease, carrying her to the bedroom and kicking the door shut behind him. He laid her down on the bed with heartbreaking tenderness and immediately caught her mouth with his own, letting the hard press of his body against hers surround her, protect her, keep her safe.

He spent hours worshiping her. Hours with his lips and teeth and tongue tracing the shapes of every single scar that she bore. He kissed up and down those on her back, the ones around her wrists. He kissed scars from childhood trips and from her time when she was captured and tortured all the same. He spent extra time kissing around the gunshot wound he had sewed together, soft kisses all around before laying one directly on the raised skin. Everywhere that she hurt, he hurt, and he wanted to make it abundantly clear that she was never alone. Not now, not ever again.

When he finally rolled his hips against hers and pushed inside her, both of them had wet cheeks full of words neither of them needed to say. It was slow, both of them wanting to take their time together. Last time it had been rushed and quick, but this time they had all the time in the world to explore each others bodies like it was the very first time. In a lot of ways it was.

It was the first time Rowan ran his fingers down her back and felt warped, tarnished and rough skin. The first time she hadn’t felt smooth as marble while he pressed his fingers into her between gasps of pleasure. It was the first time he had half a mind to worry about hurting her, had half a mind to worry if she was more delicate than she let on. He knew her, though. Knew her body, knew her mind. Knew that every single touch was breaking and healing all at once.

With her head dropped back while she rode atop him, his rough and calloused hands leaving tiny mountains and hills over her body. Everywhere he touched, little bumps raised and followed. The sight drove him insane - that he did this to the woman in his arms. That only he drew these sounds out, that only he made her moan.

He flipped them, pushing into her harder and faster but the intimacy was not lost. Her hands held his face carefully, brushing away the tears that slipped free while he kissed her and gave her everything he had.

When they came to a final climax together, he was ruined. Every part of him belonged to her, every part of him would always be hers. There was no one else who could compare. If everyone had a great love story, she was his. If everyone had an Achilles heel, she was his. And he would spend the rest of his life showing it to her, proving it to her. That she was loved above all else, and that he would never let her go.

~*~

“Don’t go to work today,” she had murmured against his lips, doing everything in her power to seduce him back to bed like a siren luring a sailor into murky waters. He hummed against her lips, leaning over her perfect body. Rowan braced one hand on the bed beside her head, his other running down her side. Aelin’s fingers started to unbutton his shirt, and it was at that moment that he had to groan and pull away, leaving his wife with a pout on her foul, beautiful mouth.

“I wish I could stay home with you,” he sighed, dropping another kiss to her lips that was so quick she didn’t have time to suck him back down into her clutches. Aelin had been graced with an empty Saturday while Rowan had paperwork to wrap up from a case they’d closed two days ago.

“Will you at least come home early? Have dinner with me before Willow gets back from Gavriel and Aerin’s. I’ll…order takeout,” she laughed then, the sound bright and full of pure joy. It made Rowan’s heart swell and soar so much that he leaned down to kiss her again.

“I’ll be out of the office at four and back in your arms before five.” Aelin bit her lip and held up her pinky finger, the emerald on her left hand glistening in the early morning sunlight. He hooked his pinky around hers and pressed a final kiss to her lips. “I’m so godsdamn in love with you.”

“I love you the same,” she had replied, grinning widely at him as she lay her head back down on her pillows, settling to go back to sleep.

“I love you the same,” he could hear her saying it as clear as day.

When he woke up, the gasp crawling out of his throat, he felt like he was outside of his body. His limbs were heavy like someone had filled his bones with lead. There was a part of his neck that hurt, but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling. With his head so fuzzy it was hard for him to focus on anything but the struggle to sit up.

One hand reached across an empty bed that was plagued with cold sheets and, despite knowing she was likely in the kitchen, his heart began to hammer in his chest at a rate that almost hurt. It shot enough adrenaline through him that he sat up and called her name.

She didn’t answer.

“Aelin!” His entire body was screaming as he thrust to his feet and stumbled through the bedroom. He knocked into the dresser so hard he let out a grunt of pain but everything so groggy and foggy, the edges of his vision still black.

In the main room, on the floor, Fenrys was laying with blood leaking from his nose. The skin over his knuckles was split like he’d been in some sort of a fight but it didn’t stop Rowan from surging at him and throwing a hit of his own straight to his unconscious face.

“What the fuck did you do with her?” He growled as soon as Fenrys’ eyes cracked open. Rowan’s teeth bared as he hovered inches from his face.

“You stupid asshole,” Fenrys hissed, trying and failing to shove Rowan off. It seemed like his limbs were made of sand, too. “I tried to stop him but someone else came up behind me and stuck a needle in my godsdamn neck. I barely got a hit in before I hit the floor.”

Rowan’s blood was boiling in his body, his body that was so heavy, so full of lead and stones that he struggling to reach the kitchen.

It was like coming home all those years ago all over again.

~*~

“Oh, come on, Laena! I was only kidding!” Archer was a few years older than she was and one of the oldest in the orphanage. He was constantly teasing her, constantly pulling at her braids. Constantly telling her that she didn’t have family anymore so she should stop hoping. It didn’t stop the stupid crush she had on him, though.

Her eyes opened, then rolled shut.

“Laena?” A soft knock at her bedroom door, a boy with brown hair and brown eyes lingering in the space and waiting for her to say he could come in.

“What do you want?” Her tone wasn’t pleasant but why would it be? He and Archer had always been so awful — teasing her until she hit them most of the time. They were the reason she ended up in trouble usually, scrubbing pans on double kitchen duty until her fingers were raw and red.

Again, her eyes rolled open but they it felt like someone was tugging them closed with strings. Taking deep breaths and trying not to let panic take over, she gripped at the coarse bed sheets that she knew were not her own as she was dragged back down into a dark abyss.

A veil was dropped over her face, Nehemia next to her straightening her dress. It was all ivory and gold with heavy beading. She never did anything half way.

Nehemia, beaming at her as she shed tears of joy for her friend. Nehemia, who had been shot on the job and not survived. This was not real.

Eyes roll shut.

A blood curdling scream while a knife carved up her back, while her skin was peeled from her body. Pain so white hot and terrible that she passed out, blood running down her sides and over her shoulders. Blood dripping onto the concrete floor.

This was not real.

This time when her eyes opened, she forced them to stay that way, will the invisible threads to hold them open versus keeping them closed. The first words that climbed out of her throat was Rowan’s name, hoarse and barely even a whisper. She tried again to no avail, no sound coming out loud enough for anyone but her to hear.

When the black, foggy veil lifted from her vision she was able to truly focus on where she was, the familiarity of it cleaving her heart in two. She had spent one year, four months, and twenty one days here before the Ashryvers tracked her down. A year where the government had so hopelessly failed her, a year where she had been beaten and abused.

She was laying on a rusty bed with a too-hard mattress that didn’t provide any comfort. It was dark out, but she could make out the vague details of the simply decorated room.

The floor was falling in some places, the ceiling caved in others. The door hung halfway off its hinges and the knob dangled from its hole. It was eerie. But she supposed it wasn’t as bad as the cabin, where she’d been tortured. Again, she tried to say his name, only for —

“Your beloved Rowan isn’t here. There’s no use in trying to to yell for him.” That voice — so familiar yet not because of how much he had grown. Archer Finn stepped out of the shadows, half of his form bathed in moonlight. Aelin's Heart was running at full throttle, working overtime to pump whatever drug out of her system but it wasn’t fast enough. She knew if she tried to fight him right now, she would lose.

And then there was the matter of her arms tied so tightly with a thick, scratchy rope that she hadn’t even registered until now. Archer opened his mouth to speak, but there was a crashing downstairs and Aelin’s eyes flew wide open.

Rowan. It had to be.

In an instant, Archer was behind Aelin, yanking her to her feet with a knife at her throat, the blade pricking her skin uncomfortably. Feet stormed through the orphanage until a body burst into the room, knocking the door from the hinges entirely.

Not Rowan, but Detective Sam Cortland.

“EVERYBODY FREEZE!”

@starseternalnighttriumphant @musicmaam @city-of-fae @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @tangledraysofsunshine @nalgenewhore @lorcansalvaterree @valarian-trash @aniniop @booksstorm @shyvioletcat @standbislytherin @rowaelinforeverworld @tangledrayofsunshine @lights-of-stars @http-itsrebecca @princess-galathynius @wifeofchrishemsworth @charincharge @amren-rhyssecond @gigglinggummybears @mskaterinablack @because-i-am-lost @hey-its-grey @sleeping-and-books @thephilosophyofblank @breezyfreezey @westofmoon @tonystarksbish @mariamuses @thereaderandfangirl @silvermindedwarrior @rosesandglass @xxhopelesspeachesxx @maraadyyer @flowerspringsea @the-bookloving-girl @vartinehd @mis-lil-red @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @dreamcatchersimss

#iihasts #iihasts14 #if i had a soul to steal #421 #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass au #rowaelin au

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albertfinch · 3 years ago

Text

NURTURING THE CHRIST SEED WITHIN

Mark 4:26-29, "This is what the Kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how.

All by itself the soil produces grain--first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come." Some have Divine seeds within their hearts they have nurtured for years, not knowing when their yield will come to fruition. What farmer would plant, without fully intending to see a mature crop as the fruit of his labor? The planter and the waterer can rejoice and anticipate the gathering, as in Psalms 126:6, "He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him." Our great expectation is securely founded upon the promises of God. After all, the Scriptures proclaim God DOES make things grow, not God might make things grow.

Taking action ends dormancy, stirring up the life process hidden beneath their protective covering. Seeds can remain in a granary for years, preserved in their dormancy, but they're useless there. We know a seed must fall to the ground and die. Then, with proper care, and soaking/watering, dormancy ends and the anticipated crop will spring forth. In other words, a seed becomes fruitful by the giving up of self, like Christ.

SOAKING THE SEEDS

Do we allow God's presence to work in us for His will and His good purposes, creating in us the fruit of the spirit?

Do we nurture Christ, the seed within us, realizing that as we are transformed into His image, and as the seed reaches maturity, we are the will of God "on earth as it is in Heaven?"

Or, does our flesh yet willfully contend for our own harvest?

Seeds soaked in hot water germinate very quickly. After soaking in hot water, the sprouting and growth phase will accelerate. There can be a "suddenly" resulting from our yielding to the ways of the Harvester. The more we yield--the more we will yield (produce). And may we remember that purification often takes place in the desert where it seems dry and desolate. But, in truth, God is always "reigning" even in the desert where the Spirit may have led us. Rejoice, for "the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will burst into bloom." Isaiah 35:1 But as we go on our way, seeds can be choked by life's worries, riches, and pleasures, and they will not mature without soaking in the Living Water (Luke 8:14). Jesus is our Master Gardener and, as we see in Isaiah 52:15, "...He purposes to sprinkle many nations...." which is often compared to rain or water.

WE NEED TO BE ASKING OURSELVES:

Do I really want growth?

Have I become dormant in the process of seeking my own comfort?

Do I remain inert, safe within my shell, because I know that growth most often creates tension?

Remember, the enemy's purpose is to steal, kill, and destroy. Some seeds may be sluggish, complacent, or inactive, indicative of a slow death. The devil is coy and won't just kill the seeds instantly. Rather, he takes years deviously trying to mutate seeds of the righteous. However, the Good News promises Jesus has come to give life abundantly!

THE FIELDS ARE RIPE

The Heavenlies are seeded with revelation on advancing God’s Kingdom NOW. The fields are ripe and harvest time is near. Are you parched? Do you feel dormant? The rain is coming--soak the seeds!

Turn away from anything that would take preeminence over God’s purpose for your life. Allow Him to uproot anything in your garden that hinders the growth of your calling in Christ. Jesus provides water from His pierced side and again, as He promised, "You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."

Living Water, "reign" down on us!

Our Father promises in Revelation 21:6, "I will give to the thirsty the springs of the Water of Life--as a gift!" He says only to those who are thirsty will He give that gift. God never forces His Living Water on anyone. But, He does promise to fill those who are thirsty (Matthew 5:6).

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

http://afministry.ning.com/

📷

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jenniferhawke · 5 years ago

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Anything for you

Summary: Fenris has never celebrated Satinalia. Hawke shows him the true meaning of the holiday.

Words: 2683

This is a short stand alone I wrote last year for the holidays. Thought I would share this piece here. Just a short, fluffy, FenHawke drabble that occurs early on in act 2.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It starts with a bottle of wine, as most of their admissions do. Hawke's cheeks warm with drink, pinking further as the elf across from her smiles, green eyes lifting at the corners. The only time she sees him like this - genuinely happy - is during her visits. Part of her is flattered that he reserves this side for her. But the more sensible side of Hawke wishes he could find such joy outside of these walls, without her presence and a bottle of wine to ignite them.

Their conversation turns to the upcoming celebration of Satinalia, when Fenris admits he has nothing planned for the day.

“Nothing at all?” Hawke’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Did we not partake in the celebration at The Hanged Man?”

A few days prior, Varric had thrown a feast in his suite. Hawke and all her companions had joined then, drinking and eating until the wee hours of the morning. It was a wonderful night, that was certain. But they had celebrated the holiday then because they all had previous engagements for Satinalia day itself.

“Well, Varric hosted that night because everyone was already committed to something on the actual date. Sebastian has his sermons. Isabela made it abundantly clear that she’d be spreading cheer by gracing the Blooming Rose with their favorite customer. Merrill somehow roped Varric into telling stories to the young elves in the alienage, because, according to her, she can never get the voices right. Although, I suppose Varric won’t mind terribly, he loves a receptive audience, and he’ll have those children hanging off of his every word,” Hawke laughs. “And Anders and Lirene from the clinic are going to be handing out food rations to the poor.” Hawke had been more than glad to donate coin to help her friend pay for the food needed. “Aveline is going to be stuck on guard duty, but I made her promise to stop by for a drink afterwards. Mother almost considers her another daughter now, with everything we went through together to get here,” she says with a smile. Her eyes meet Fenris’. “And that just leaves you.”

“It is just a day like any other,” he says, taking a long sip from his bottle.

“Are there little things you do to celebrate? Any traditions?”

“I’ve … never really partaken in the holiday. Not truly. Traditionally, slaves are permitted to feast during Satinalia, to eat just as well as their Master's. But Danarius did not wish to spoil his slaves. He thought it a waste of good food. One year, however, he gifted me a blanket. It might not sound like much, but it is very rare for a slave to own personal effects. Even bedding. He did seem to be in kinder spirits than usual, so it was a small thing to look forward to.”

Hawke scolds herself then, angry that her ignorance blinded her from seeing how insensitive the question was. But before she can apologize, Fenris changes the direction of the conversation.

“I’m not sure if it is a Free Marcher custom, but in the last few weeks, many of the bakery’s have been selling these sweets. I admit, I’ve found myself at the stalls time and again. It seems I cannot get enough of them,” he smiles.

“Do you know what they’re called?”

“They are a cookie of sorts. Simple, perhaps made with only flour and sugar. I forget the name.”

“Oh, you aren’t talking about shortbread cookies, are you?”

“Ah, yes. That’s what they’re called.”

Hawke scrunches up her face, and Fenris grins. “Not a fan I take it?”

“Heavens, no!” she laughs. “Mother used to make them every year, and insisted that since she spent time making them, we all had to eat them. Father loved them. So did Carver. But Bethany and I detested the things.”

“You truly do not know what you are missing.”

“Oh, I certainly do. You are free to all the shortbread you want. I can promise you that I will never be tempted to ask you to share.”

Fenris laughs then, and it is a joy to her ears. His eyes soften, and she returns his smile. “And what of you - what traditions do you partake in?”

“My family and I always celebrated together. Waking up at dawn, exchanging gifts, sitting in front of the fire with a glass of wine. We were allowed just one glass, even as children,” she says, fond memories dancing before her eyes. It occurs to her then, that every memory Fenris has that should be precious is tainted with misery. That, even a memory of receiving a gift is twisted from its origin. She looks upon him then, their eyes meeting and holding each other's gaze.

“I’m sorry … it was unkind of me to share such things,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because you … you’ve never …”

“I do not want your pity,” he says coldly, and Hawke sighs.

“I do not pity you Fenris. It just hurts me to think of all you’ve endured. You’re a good man.”

“How can you be so sure?” he averts his eyes then, staring blankly at the contents of wine in the bottle. “There is much you do not know of my past. Of all that I’ve done.”

“Those things were beyond your control. You’ve told me before - a slave has no choice, that he only thinks of his Master’s wishes. That wasn’t you, Fenris. That was someone else in another life.”

Slowly, he lifts his gaze, and Hawke nearly drowns in the depth of emotion swimming behind his eyes. “I wish I could believe you. You make me want to.”

“Perhaps one day you will.”

It’s in that moment that Hawke promises herself that she will give Fenris a reason to cherish this holiday, to give him new memories to alleviate the sting of ones that are a source of pain. She doesn’t know what exactly she is to Fenris, but she would do just about anything to erase his self doubts, and to show him how much he means to her.

It is far too early when Fenris is awakened by a loud pounding on his front door. He grumbles, rolling over, hoping the pest will leave if he wills it. But the banging at the door continues, dragging him away from his sleep.

“Fasta Vass,” he grunts, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He quickly throws on a pair of trousers and a grey cotton shirt, and pads down the stairs. Whoever it was had better have a good excuse for disrupting his slumber. Pulling open the door, he is shocked to see Hawke, a huge grin plastered on her face.

“Merry Satinalia!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck. Fenris stands stiffly, startled by the sign of affection.

“Hawke?” he asks, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“No one should spend this day alone,” she says, her eyes twinkling as she pulls away. Immediately, Fenris misses her warmth. “Grab your coat, it’s chilly out.”

“Where are we going?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Fenris sighs. He hates surprises - one could never properly prepare themselves without knowing what they were getting themselves into. He throws on a light wool jacket, but as he reaches his sword, Hawke chuckles.

“You won’t need that where we’re going. And I doubt any criminals are lingering the streets. Even thieves take this day off.”

“If you are certain,” he says, and steps past the threshold, closing the door behind him.

“Come on!” she exclaims, taking his hand in hers, lacing her slender fingers around his own. His eyebrows raise, his heart suddenly coming to a halt within his chest. It startles him, truly, to feel her supple flesh in his palm, her skin somehow warm amidst the chill around them. He realises he’s frozen in place when she begins to tug him along. He follows her without another word, cherishing this tender moment between two … friends? Almost lovers? Fenris does not know what they are - a slave never dreams of such a cherished relationship. But he’s not a slave. Not anymore. Perhaps he could dare to dream of something more.

Thick, fluffy snowflakes fall from the sky, still dark with dusk. But despite the unholy early hour, a choir sings in the distance, voices so harmonic they sound unworldly. Fenris shivers, a chill running through his body at the frigid temperature.

“I’ll never understand why you don’t invest in a warmer jacket. This isn’t Tevinter, you know,” she teases, running her thumb in circles against his hand, perhaps in a feeble attempt to keep him warm.

“You do have a point.”

“It’s not far, you’ll be warm in no time, I promise.”

As they walk through the streets, she speaks of things he does not know - plum pudding and honeyed cakes. But all Fenris can fixate on is the decadently smooth skin grazing the palm of his hand. A few minutes later, they round the corner, and Fenris realises that they are heading towards her estate. When they reach her door, she reluctantly let's go of his hand, and he nearly takes her hand back in his own. Nearly. She beams at him then, her wondrous eyes gleaming, even under the dusky sky.

“Here,” she says, and runs her fingers through his hair for a few moments. “Your hair is all mussed up.” As her fingers brush against his scalp, a delightful chill prickles at the back of his neck. He’d not known such a small touch could feel so … enoyable.

“Perhaps I would look more presentable had I known I would be joining you.”

“You look fine,” she says with a grin, removing her fingers from his hair, and it surprises him that he wishes for her touch to linger a few moments longer.

As they step into the warmth of her home, the aroma of spiced bread reaches his nose. He follows Hawke to the living room, where Leandra greets him with a smile.

“Fenris dear, how nice of you to join us. Come in,” the elder Hawke woman says, and Fenris nods.

“I appreciate the invite.”

He follows them into a side room he’s never been in before. The estate is decked out in brightly coloured ribbons. A pine centerpiece sits in the middle of a large dining table.

“Take a seat,” Hawke gestures, and they sit together. Leandra returns, a tray full of cookies.

“My daughter tells me you enjoy shortbread,” she says, holding out the tray to him. Reluctantly, he accepts a cookie.

“I do. You have my thanks,” he says, and he can’t help but wonder what else Hawke has told her mother of him. Did she know he was an escaped slave? Despite being of nobility, Leandra never looked upon him with disgust when Fenris came to collect Hawke. She was always kind and soft spoken, something Fenris never really appreciated until now.

“Such manners,” Leandra says, taking a seat at the table.

Fenris takes a bite into the cookie, and hums his approval. It’s even better than the cookies he purchases from the Hightown stall.

“See, darling, someone approves of your mother’s baking,” Leandra beams and Hawke sighs.

“Your baking is just fine, Mother.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Moments later, Gamlen walks in, with Carver tagging behind him.

“Carver!” Leandra exclaims, pushing past Gamlen to embrace her son.

“Am I nothing to you now?” Gamlen sounds annoyed, but strolls over the the table, pouring himself a glass of wine. Hawke joins her mother, giving her brother a brief hug.

“The Templars gave you a day off? I’m shocked,” she says, her voice teasing.

“I only have an hour or so to spare, but I am here until then.”

“Only an hour?” Leandra gasps. “But it’s Satinalia.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mother. But I have duties.”

“Well, you best open your presents now then.”

Fenris is content to sit and watch the Hawke family exchange their gifts. He drinks spiced wine, and munches on various treats displayed on the table. Hawke’s staff busies themselves in the kitchen, and despite his belly full of sugary sweets, his stomach anticipates the savory smells that waft through the air.

They share a hearty breakfast, filled with tender meats, sweet bread, and fresh fruit. By the time they are finished, Fenris is fit to burst. He comfortably sips his drink when Carver bids his family farewell.

As Leandra and Gamlen converse in the kitchen, Hawke adds another log to the fire. It crackles loudly, tiny embers of fire floating above the wood. She reaches up on her mantle, grabbing two remaining gifts.

“I have something for you,” she says.

Fenris is reluctant to accept them; he’d brought nothing in return. But he knows Hawke, and knows it would wound her should he refuse. He slowly unwraps the first one, and when it is revealed, his heart jumps in his throat.

“It’s a book,” he says slowly, his tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth.

“It’s a subject you’re familiar with. The book is by Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You know about him, right?”

“A little,” he admits. He’s hidden this from her for so long, and Fenris suddenly feels insecure. “It’s just … slaves are not permitted to read. I’ve never learned.”

“It’s not too late to learn, Fenris.”

“Isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, I do appreciate the thought. I’ve always wanted to learn more of Shartan. Perhaps this is my chance.”

“I’d be more than willing to help you learn.”

“Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it,” she says warmly, placing a hand over his.

“Thank you, Hawke.” She can’t possibly know what this means to him. He’s always wanted to learn, for as far back as he can remember. It’d be one last thing erased from his life of a slave - his illiteracy.

“Open your other gift,” she grins.

“You spoil me,” he chuckles. As his fingers unwrap the gift, a deep plum scarf is revealed.

“Here, allow me,” she says. Hawke stands before him, leaning forward as she delicately wraps the scarf around his neck. “You seldom dress appropriately for the winter. Maybe this will help keep you warm.” Her hands graze the back of his neck as she winds the scarf around him, and once again, a delicious shiver ghosts over his skin at her touch. Fenris looks up at her, and notices just how close their faces are, so close he can smell the sweet wine from her lips. She gazes deeply into his eyes. Fenris longs to close the distance, to press his lips against hers, to finally know how her mouth tastes against his own. But he stalls for too long, and Hawke lowers her gaze, a nervous chuckle ghosting past her lips as a light blush dances across her cheeks.

“Thank you, Hawke,” he finally says. He’s surprised by the tenderness of his own voice - a voice he scarcely recognises as his own.

“Anything for you, Fenris.”

The admission sends his heart dancing beneath his chest. For so long, he’s wondered if her feelings run as deep as his own - if all her flirting was just a habit, or if her words came from the heart. But being here with her, being invited into her home with her family during Satinalia - it’s shown him that she does care. He’s wanted her for years, desperately so. Perhaps, one day soon, he will gather the courage to tell her how he feels. But for now, he’s content to enjoy her company. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

End notes: I took some liberty with Satinalia. Based on what I’ve read about “Saturnalia”, the Romans would allow their slaves to dine with them at a grand feast, and sometimes would play role reversal. I certainly couldn’t see Danarius doing that, so that’s where the idea for that conversation came from. Anywho, whatever you celebrate, I hope you enjoy the holidays!

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age 2 #DA2 #FenHawke #Fenris #Hawke #Christmas fic #Dragon Age fanfiction #Satinalia #Saturnalia #jenniferhawke

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ariainstars · 5 years ago

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The Rise of Skywalker or Well, It Seems Santa Won’t Come to Us This Year

Warning... this is a long entry.

A satisfying ending to such a universally beloved story after 42 years and 9 episodes, in the hands of one of the most renowned and expert film studios in the world ought to look different. As the final chapter and with the way laid out by Rian Johnson, it could and should have been epic. But for some obscure reason, the Disney studios decided to let JJ Abrams f*** it up royally. As if they did it on purpose.

Honestly, what did we expect? Abrams is a copycat, we saw that with Star Trek, too. He can tell old stories again in a rather fresh way, but he can’t think up anything really good of his own.

I admit that at first, I didn’t like the sequels much. They seemed adamant to tear down the past, no wonder so many fans got upset. Besides, I was devastated by Han Solo’s death at the hand of his own son.

But then I warmed up to the other characters, and I said to myself that it’s not wrong to start afresh and give a new generation a chance. The old doesn’t become bad because new things come up. And our heroes Han, Leia and Luke had their happy ending; it wasn’t cancelled. It was interesting to think, “What happens after a happy ending?” (For the record, it seems war heroes do not exactly make good parents / uncles. I guess you need other qualities for that.)

Honestly, I did have a vaguely bad feeling a few weeks before TRoS came out; I couldn’t say why. Anyway, looking back there were a few giveaways that the story would end the way it did.

1. The title: “Rise of Skywalker”. Though the last of the Skywalker blood, Ben technically was a Solo (Organa-Solo to be exact). He did redeem himself, but he did not rise above it all.

2. Kylo’s light sabre is the only one which looks like a cross. Anakin was a child without a father. Both suffered terrible pains and then died - due to other people’s sins.

3. The saga’s themes are many and a lot was set up in Episodes VII and VIII. It was to be expected that one film wouldn’t be enough to wrap everything up. TLJ had a new and fresh approach; but apart from the fact that so many fans hated it, it packed the film so full of new themes and subjects that it took us as fans months to inspect it all. We should have guessed that there wouldn’t be enough time in TRoS to finish the old story, start the next one and wrap that up, too.

4. Circumstances be as they may, Kylo / Ben is still a patricide. He did evil things before, but killing Han definitively damned him. And very many people unfortunately take these films at face value and do not go into depth. If TLJ stirred up a wasp’s nest, I don’t want to know what would have happened if in TRoS he would have been redeemed and had survived, and maybe also found his happy ending. Much as I love him, from a moral standpoint it sounds somewhat ambiguous.

The Rise of Skywalker assuredly is Star Wars-y. But is that really more important than making good and uplifting films?

Rogue One was so Star Wars-y that fans almost went nuts about it; I still remember my shock when I actually watched it and found it a deeply sad, melancholy story, thematically the exact opposite of A New Hope’s joy and optimism.

Rose was detested by many fans because she was a quirky personality and so unlike Leia: no wonder she almost disappeared. And her relationship with Finn, which was set up as perfectly fitting, vanished as well: no, no, no, we always have a trio in the middle of the story. More than three heroes, that’s not Star Wars-y. Rey’s spunky, sassy personality reminds of Leia, so she is seen as Star Wars-y. And fans couldn’t accept that she comes from nowhere because in Star Wars it has to turn out that you’re related to someone: so she had to be Palpatine’s granddaughter (ugh) and Saint Rey at the same time.

Fans were hurt by Han Solo’s death in TFA, but at least got to see him being cool and swashbuckling. Luke died in TLJ, but as far as I know fans didn’t send a petition to Disney asking to take TFA from canon: they only did so after TLJ. Reason? Because as it seems, they could forgive anything that was done to Han, but not Luke’s green milk.

Ben Solo, the last of the Skywalker blood, was judged an unworthy heir to Darth Vader due to his emotionality, that’s why everybody left him to rot in a pit. Who hated him for being a “whiny sissy” at least will be content now.

As for us, who have looked more in depth at the saga as a whole and its themes, we can go home with hollow hearts and feeling numb.

My compliments, JJ. You managed to destroy both the probably most famous and beloved film franchises in less than ten years. And you have spoilt our Christmas.

Worse, you have ruined the franchise for the many, many children who grew up loving Kylo Ren and Rey and rooting for their happy ending together. I have heard that a lot of parents had to bring their kids home weeping. Do you believe they will love the saga now still? They will probably only remember it as a terribly sad story and not want to have anything to do with it ever again. And this from the Disney studios, experts for children’s stories, fairy tales and happy endings. A few days before Christmas. I never would have guessed that making older fanbros happy would be so much more important. At least their heroes had their happy ending, their successes, their friendship. Ben Solo had nothing. And this was the very last episode, so we can’t even hope for the future.

I myself right now don’t know whether I can ever watch anything about Star Wars again. I was so elated, so sure of a happy ending after 9 episodes and 42 years. Now every time I will think about watching something related to SW, I will be reminded of how sadly it all ended. And with no warning, mind you. At least watching the prequels we all knew how it would end.

Rian Johnson had set everything up beautifully. I can’t believe that Disney studios and JJ can have been so blind as to not see it, they’re supposed to be experts and to be paid for storytelling. To me it was abundantly clear that

- Ben Solo’s redemption were the children (an inversion to the Jedi Temple carnage, and a parallel to Leia’s meeting with the Ewoks where she immediately became motherly)

- Rey would fall to the Dark Side something ugly and then understand that she had no right to judge Ben

- Ben and Rey would be together and have their happy ever after

- They would take care of the children together, learning from their own upbringing to be protective and understanding parents

- Ben would be the Good Father opposite to Darth Vader the Evil Father and this would “finish what he started” (excuse me, why choose an actor for the role who has Vader’s stature but whose features are the exact opposite? Who has repeatedly proven that he deals well with children in films? Why not use his potential??)

- They would start a new Jedi training or academy, where children would no longer be taught to suppress their emotions

- Rey would in this way finally find the family she craved

- Balance would mean a rainbow or a prism, not Black against White, or Grey

What I still can’t believe

I guess most of you have read some of my meta’s. They were written after thorough researc of the saga’s themes. And I still can’t believe that I got it that wrong.

Yes, as I already wrote above there still is the fact that Kylo / Ben is a patricide and that having him survive after he damned himself like that might have been a bad message. But I still believed that he was in for redemption and survival, and that he was meant to be a father figure.

What about all the messages in TLJ, which all seemed to point to the future?

- The hand-touching scene with the set-up which was exactly opposite to Anakin’s and Padmés wedding? Why did both couples have to end tragically?

- Why were enslaved children introduced in a sympathetic way, the film even ending showing one of them being a Force User and dreaming of being a Jedi? What about Anakin’s promise that he would come back and free the slaves on his planet? That promise was never kept.

- What will become of new Force Users? The last person who was taught both the Jedi and the Sith knowledge is dead.

- Why did Maz Kanata announce to Rey that “the belonging she sought was ahead of her”? She is on the planet that both Anakin and Luke ardently wished to leave. How is that belonging? She knows who she is now, but she is just as lonely and overburdened as when she started. She has not found the family she sought, and she hasn’t founded one of her own. And where’s the ocean she used to dream of?

- Rey had told Ben that “she saw his future”. What future was that? “You will be a hero for ten minutes, have almost all your bones crushed, get a kiss and then die”…?

- Why did Leia ask Han to bring their son home? He saved his soul, but as for finding home, not a chance.

- Luke had promised his nephew that they would see each other again. Nope. And both he and Leia took Rey’s side, abandoning their nephew and son in favor of the offspring of their worst enemy. This is destroying their legacy, not the green milk. Luke panicking and contemplating to kill Ben in his sleep lasted a few seconds. It is not understandable why Luke and Leia should believe in Rey while they were afraid of their own flesh and blood. Because she’s cooler, I guess.

- TRoS destroyed the Jedi’s legacy as well, respectively proved once more what terrible people they were, ready to sacrifice everything for their victory. All of them spoke to Rey, not one to Ben. As if he didn’t even exist. He wasn’t useful to them, that was all.

- After the victory of the Light Side and the Dark Side, logically Balance should have come. Where and how did we ever see this balance? Oh, the bad guy is dead again, that’s good. If at least his granddaughter was dead, then maybe the galaxy would finally have some peace! But that besotted idiot had to resurrect her. Out of love.

- In the end, who won? The Skywalker Curse. The last of their blood is dead. Their name lives on, together with the flesh and blood of Palpatine. As if all had been for nothing.

- Rey is not the winner in this story. She did not inherit the Skywalker name, tokens, emotional support, memories, lessons: she is a usurper just like her grandfather. Except that she didn’t do it on purpose.

- What is the future of the galaxy now? Rey lives, thank to Palpatine’s and the Jedi’s power and Ben Solo’s love. But what is the political future? What became of the First Order? What will become of the future Jedi, or will there be any at all? This whole mess doesn’t seem at all a reason to rejoice.

- What did Anthony Daniels mean when he twittered that the ending of the saga would contain a message for all of us? Almost everybody dies, that’s great, Merry Christmas? ☹

The Last Jedi was packed full of wonderful messages: you can be a nobody and still carve your way in life, failure is the greatest teacher, war makes unscrupulous people rich, good and bad are made-up words (you blow them up today, they blow you up tomorrow), you have to save what you love not destroy what you hate… and so on. Luke’s lesson explaining that the Force is not some kind of superpower was tremendous and necessary for all fans to hear. His confession of the Jedi’s sins and his decision that they had to end was the right conclusion after all that we learned about Anakin. But alas, the older fanbros hated each and every one of these messages and lessons. Star Wars may be for twelve-year-old, as Lucas once said. But twelve-year-olds are supposed to grow up, some day or other.

The Force Awakens had not promised anything. If you believed that the old trio would be back to kick ass, watch it again. It’s clear from the start that this time it’s up to the next generation. Our heroes had not only grown older, they were visibly tired and disillusioned. And there obviously was a whole baggage of secrets and problems to be unpacked. Did anyone honestly believe Luke would jump right back into the fray, like he was not an exile by own choice but some kind of Robinson Crusoe who simply hadn’t found home again?

The Last Jedi, by comparison, had opened a whole treasure chest of promises for love, hope, future and homecoming. And The Rise of Skywalker spat them almost all into our faces. It almost seems like the petty work of an envious man - like children who mob and publicly humiliate one particular child because it’s more intelligent and has achieved more than them.

So, what’s the moral for Ben Solo at the end - see to it that you’re not in the wrong place at the wrong time? Don’t trust anyone, not even your own family members, not even the greatest hero of your time?

Anakin won the pod race, he destroyed the star base over Naboo, he became a valiant Jedi, he married the love of his life. He once said, “This is the happiest day of my life.” But apart from a childhood that was probably more or less positive, as far as we know Ben Solo had nothing but pain and sorrow from life. He wasn’t torn from limb to limb and burned alive and then had to live on for decades, but he lost his home, his integrity and his life, merely due to… fate. Twenty years of struggle, frustration, loneliness, anger, death, sorrow and destruction. The only glimpse of hope he saw was in Rey’s eyes as they connected in TLJ, and his only moment of happiness when he sacrificed his life to save her (I will never forget that smile). Reylo was canon for a few seconds… and the SW couple with the strongest chemistry did not even get a love theme. ☹

I admit I was doubtful whether it would have been a good idea to let Ben survive and be happy after all the bad things he had done. But the message we got now is infinitely worse; and being an abuse victim myself it is a personal hurt to me. So, if you become the victim of abuse because nobody was there to help you, you are doomed and can only escape through death. And we saw nobody grieving for him, no Force Ghost among the others, no grave, no body to burn as in Vader’s case. As if he never existed. Another unsung, unhappy hero without an epitaph like the ones from Rogue One - it seems that viewers liked that, so let’s give them some more of it. Even if we’re called Disney.

The prequels look positive in this light. At least we always knew they would end as a tragedy, and there was hope in the end. Rey is left with nothing but sad memories. The prequels had a story arc; they told the story they wanted (the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker) in their own way; they were a massive, ambitious project in the style of colossal movies like The Last Day of Pompeji or The Fall of the Roman Empire. In this light they’re pretty good, the OT fans simply didn’t like them because they weren’t Star-Wars-y enough. The sequels tried to patch that up and ironically, the best sequel is the middle one, which was hated by the OT fans for trying to open the way to something new. And maybe the sequels never were meant to make a real wrap-up, to give us a satisfying happy ending; because the more fans protest, the more it will give the studios the chance to explore the possibilities for new stories. It’s in their right, I guess. But nevertheless, it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

And sorry, this whole story proves to me once more that the Jedi were nothing but petty little f***s who cared only for letting Their Side Win no matter the cost and didn’t care in the least about the human lives and happiness involved. Anakin, Luke and Ben all wanted to be pilots, not Jedi! Anakin’s tragedy was that he had to become a Jedi instead of being himself. His grandson’s tragedy was the same. He was targeted from birth not only by Snoke but also by his uncle and his own mother who saw nothing but his potential for the Force - not a young man like any other who wanted to be happy, to love and belong like everybody else. Only exception, Han. To him, his son was always simply his son, whether he was powerful in the Force or not. No wonder Ben loved Rey to death: after his father she was the only one who ever saw and loved him simply for being himself. The Jedi all spoke to Rey encouraging her to stand up against Palpatine; the last son and heir of the Skywalker was ignored by his own flesh and blood, because to them he was officially “Dark Side” and thus not interesting for the final fight. They did not even care whether Rey died after the victory; the supposed “bad guy” had to come and rescue her. Out of love, not because of her power. And the Jedi are supposed to be some kind of heroes and glowing examples. What a terrible sarcasm.

Ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?

No?

Try the tragedy of Ben Solo the Fucked-Up Loser Who Just Wanted to Be Himself.

What I hope for…

I want to spend my time in other ways from now on. I will read meta’s and fanfics about Star Wars still, but not so assiduously.

Maybe this entire f***up was a well-planned strategy in order to make us wish and ask for another sequel, so that the Star Wars story can go on like an endless soap opera. And the studios make money while we wait for every single scrap of news.

And yet, I can’t accept that this was supposed to be all. The saga is at its end, but is Ben Solo really finished?

Rian Johnson confirmed that he is working on a new trilogy. I can only hope that he will pick up the themes which he started in TLJ and finally give us the happy ending we craved. The next film starts in 2022 if rumors are right.

In a way, it is understandable that Ben Solo’s arc had to finish here and without a happy ending: after all he is not a Skywalker but a Solo. In the end, it was not his story. Who knows what the Force has in store for us. 😊

I would love for Johnson to come back and give our hearts what we wanted after Abrams satisfied (it seems) the fanbros of the original trilogy who hated TLJ so much. Everybody would get what he wanted; fans of OT could simply not watch / ignore the continuation and we could root for Kylo / Ben to our heart’s content. I figure that would be a fair compromise. And if it is indeed a trilogy, there would be plenty of time to explore the family / father / mother themes, and create a new life and identity for Ben. (Who, I am saying it again, assuredly deserved better.)

However, that is all in the future. I haven’t a clue what Johnson is planning, I only think that it would make sense if he explored TLJ’s themes more in depth and with more time.

I really want to pester Rian Johnson right now to give us Ben Solo’s story and to make it happy at last. (Pretty please with cherries on top. 😉)

If you are interested, there is already a petition: https://www.change.org/p/lucasfilm-continue-ben-solo-s-story

What has actually improved for me

1. In my youth I had to spend a large portion of my life under very disagreeable circumstances and I learned to zone out mentally to this or other “dream worlds” as a meaning to cope. (“Dreams Are My Reality” was my song, growing up. 😊) My life is much better now, but the tendency to zone out is still there. Now I remind myself every day that dreaming is good but that no one ought to spend so much time dreaming that his actual life passes him by. I don’t need to escape into dreams any more, I can just enjoy them. So, I feel more grateful.

2. I have learned a lot about myself these two years. I question my intelligence less and I overestimate other people less. I am less timid. I notice that I am calmer and speak slower and do more small talk. The reason: I have realized that many, many people value “coolness” most of all in fictional as well as real people and that one of my main problems is that I am oversensitive and doubtful, similarly to Kylo / Ben. No wonder he’s hated: not so much because “he did so many evil things” but because he is seen as a whiny sissy. (Vader did much worse things, but his “untouchable” attitude made up for it.) I found out that many people mistake a haughty or nonchalant attitude with strength. I don’t need to feel ashamed because I am willing to learn and develop my mind. Anyone who takes me for a fool because of this, it’s his loss. Vader was over-the-top cool, but lonely and miserable. For happiness, we need other humans. Not superhumans.

3. I have spent two very agreeable years exchanging points of view with other fans in this community and I have learned a lot about narratives. I have gone in depth in the Star Wars saga and now I appreciate it much more than before. (I actually consider watching the prequels again to get over TRoS. I never would have believed it if anyone had told me, a few years ago. 😊)

4. I feel closer to my husband. We’ve spent so many evenings apart the last two years because I was elbows-deep in Star Wars! Now we talk more, go out more and watch more films or TV shows together. (BTW, I read many fanfics were Ben and Rey had a playful, teasing relationship. Now I tease my husband more and our marriage is improved. 😊)

5. I used to laugh at who detested TLJ and / or the prequels and to think that who didn’t get the messages was just too lazy to think about them. I do not think that the original characters were ruined in these films at all, but fans who expected them to kick ass until retirement and beyond of course were disappointed. I figured that to make a credible sequel you had to lend more depth to characters and themes and couldn’t just start off again like nothing happened. Most reboots are like this and that’s why they fail: a film is not the same as a TV show. I found Star Wars’ approach more intelligent. But I disrespected other people’s hurt and irritation… and now I find myself in the same situation. I count myself lucky because I waited only 2 years and not 30 years like other hardcore fans.

We are depressed now and feel that Christmas is ruined. Hardcore OT fans must have felt the same two years ago - I remember quite a lot of meta’s and videos where people vented their rage and frustration, some going so far that they declared they wanted to abandon the franchise for good. They felt betrayed. As do we now: we feel that TLJ set up the stage for a brilliant redemption arc and love / family story, and now here we are, looking like fools.

Maybe next time we ought to be more specific with our wishes. Reylo is canon - what did that mean to you? I never hoped for Ben to be redeemed through Rey’s love, that would have been mushy. But I did of course hope for them to have a Happy Ever After. What did Bendemption mean to you? I of course hoped he would redeem himself and survive. The meanest thing about this film is that it gave us what we hoped for only to take it away again... And differently from the OT fans, we can’t say to ourselves, “Well, there’s still one film to be done, let’s hope it will make up.” Nostalgia has won. Not compassion, or the willingness to look beyond one’s nose.

Lessons learned

1. Try not to get so worked up about a film. After all, it’s just a story. It’s not our fault if studios, directors and story writers are little sh**s who like to have us build our hopes up and then deflate us.

2. Appreciate the world around you. It’s more complicated and frightening because contrarily to your dreams you can’t keep it in control. But it’s real. It makes you a more real person, and also the ones you interact with.

3. Make your own happy ending. a) That a hero you identified with didn’t get his happy ending doesn’t mean you won’t get yours. If you are already in a satisfying life situation, be grateful for what you have. If you’re not, roll up your sleeves more and do your best to escape reality less. b) Write stories that go the way you would have wanted them to.

4. Start something new to clear your head. A new project you didn’t have “time” for or perhaps not enough courage. Pour your energies into that.

5. Question yourself. Why did this story, these characters intrigue you so? You do not live in the galaxy far, far away after all. If you identify with Kylo / Ben, why? If you would like a partner like him, why? What can you do to implement your wishes into your life?

If you feel with lonely, misunderstood people, reach out in real life. The prequels were a cautionary tale about a good boy becoming a monster because he was overburdened from early age and left alone with his fears and doubts. Society had created its own monster. Don’t let us contribute to that kind of society.

I was adamant that Ben Solo was supposed to become a caring father figure in TRoS. Ironically, I have no children of myself and I don’t deal well with other people’s: I don’t dislike children, I just don’t have practice with them. If Ben didn’t get the chance to be a loving and caring figure for abandoned children, I think I ought to do something for children myself.

In the meantime, merry Christmas. We will always have each other. 😊

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beewishing · 5 years ago

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i live in an apartment filled with bright, warm light. it has big windows and sheer curtains and i draw them aside often to let the light in. i have a view of plants and greenery and a beautiful sky. the window in my kitchen faces the sunrise and the window in my bedroom faces the sunset. i watch both frequently, letting the joy and awe of life and love and nature and beauty fill and complete me. my apartment is open and spacious, free of any heavy energy. it is decorated beautifully, showing signs of life and love throughout. it is filled with positive and loving energy. i feel good the second i walk in, knowing i’m home, in a space entirely my own. my room is bright and yellow, filled with softness and creature comforts. there are fairie lights everywhere, giving the room a soft and inviting nature. i am comfortable and uplifted in this space. i have a big, comfortable bed. it’s the most comfortable bed i’ve ever had, and i feel all the weight of the day lift from my shoulders as i sink into the mound of soft blankets. i have good, luxurious pillows that support my head and neck, letting me sleep in any position and waking up feeling amazing, no soreness anywhere in my body. i frequently have friends stay over, and we are comfortable together in my room, sharing space and energy, uplifting each other and basking in each other’s warm and loving presence. my love is with my most nights, we curl up in my bed talking about everything that comes to mind, completely open and honest, trusting and vulnerable. we enjoy each other’s presence completely, feeling safe and wanted, needed and cared for, in each other’s arms. we have our whole lives ahead of us, and we map them out in my bed, talking about our dreams and hopes, our deepest and truest desires, for ourselves and for each other and for us, together. we hold each other close, feeling love and affection swim between us, filling our whole bodies, all our senses. we are so comfortable and at ease in each other’s presence. we appreciate the time we get to spend together, every single second cherished and filled with gratitude for each other’s presence in our lives. my apartment has a balcony filled with thriving plants, giving off an air of budding life, constant growth. i go out on this balcony frequently, letting the fresh air wash over me, losing myself in the pure joy of being alive. i look at the world around me and am filled with so much love and inner peace. i have boundless excitement and happiness about my life, myself, my potential, my future, and each present moment. i decorate this balcony with comfortable chairs and soft lights and candles. i am able to completely relax and let go of worries. i often have friends and new people over, and we sit on the balcony together, talking deep into the night. it is a place of easy and effortless connection, a place of deep and fulfilling honesty, a place to bare secrets and share joy and talk about everything that comes to mind. it is a place of deep, true, fulfilling connection. i have a cute kitchen filled with perfectly working appliances. being in my kitchen gives me energy and strong desire to cook for myself and others. i cook full, delicious, healthy meals. i eat regularly and healthily, choosing the best foods for my body, my health, and my mood. i pay attention to how the food i eat makes me feel, and keep only what makes me feel good in my house. i am able to effortlessly afford fresh ingredients and foods. i shop frequently at local shops and farmer’s market, eating healthy local foods, filling my body with sustaining nourishment that i enjoy and is good for me. i have a little table to sit at and cute dishes. i have sturdy cookware that is easy for me to maintain. my kitchen is a place of creation and joy, effortless energy goes into cooking and eating, as well as cleaning afterwards. my fridge is big enough to fit all the food i eat in it, and it’s decorated with cute magnets and stickers, pictures and notes. i have knick knacks around my windowsill and counters that fill me with happiness each and every time i look at them. light shines in on me through the window as i prepare, cook, eat, and clean. i feel amazing and at ease in my kitchen, inspired to make good food and bake sweet treats and breads. each morning i wake up with ease, feeling well rested and ready for the day ahead, filled with inner peace, happiness, and excitement. i leave my bed easily, not tempted to stay in bed all day, despite it’s comfort. i make delicious and energizing coffee using fresh ground beans and clean water. i have a morning ritual that i stick to diligently, letting it fill me with energy and balance. i wash my face as the coffee brews, feeling clean and fresh. i journal or write as i drink my coffee, often waking early enough to watch the sunrise through my kitchen window as i do so. i am mindful and grateful for each moment, each small pleasure, each day i receive so beautifully. my bathroom is big, with a full counter, big enough to stretch out on, and a huge mirror. i decorate my bathroom with fairy lights and ivy, soft bath rugs and cute decorations. my bath has a full tub, big enough to comfortably lay in for hours. i take baths often, delighting in the simple warmth and pleasure, using the space to think back on the pleasures of the day, to check in with myself, and to treat myself with care and kindness. my shower head is big and pressurized, with different settings that all feel amazing. i have a hot water tank big enough to take long, luxurious showers, as long as i want without the water running cold. i shower mindfully, never hesitating to get clean and feeling better each time i do. i have huge fluffy towels that feel amazing after i’ve showered, and i always remember to moisturize after the hot water on my skin. i have lotion that makes me soft and smooth and smelling amazing, and i use it frequently. the common areas of my apartment have hard wood or soft, plush, pleasant looking carpet. i love spending time out of room, out in the open, appreciating each room in my apartment. i have comfortable chairs and beautiful paintings and decorations in each of the rooms. i often have incense lit and my apartment smells amazing and feels entirely welcoming to everyone who enters, including myself. no one ever feels out of place or unwanted when they’re with me in my home, they know my life has space intended just for them, as does my heart and my mind. i appreciate everyone in my life so much, and make sure they know it through my words and actions. i make myself available to those in my life, as much as is healthy for both of us. my relationships are fulfilling and abundant, filled with love, care, kindness, and connection. i am close with the people in my life, able to talk and express myself easily with them, spending quality time with them doing things we both enjoy. we go new places, go on small adventures, go out to eat and drink and have fun, and stay in so i can cook for them or them for me, so we can talk privately and openly, honest and appreciative of the conversation and each other. i learn new things from and about the people in my life. we help each other to grow and mature, to learn and develop and experience so many wonderful moments together. we share good food and good drinks and do fun things. we go out to stores and shows, festivals and restaurants, movies and music, art galleries and museums, and just walking around aimlessly. we go wherever our indulgences take us, exploring the world around us, finding new delights in places we’d never have thought to go before. we go on bike rides and swing in parks, we go to the beach and walk through nature trails, we go to the library and read together, we go to picnics together in the park with fresh fruit and bread and healthy snacks that are as delicious as the moments themselves. love is abundantly present in every relationship, every day, every moment, every single aspect of my life. i never feel unloved or unwanted because i know there are so many people who love and want and care for me, including and most importantly myself. i am secure in my place as a person in this world, secure in each one of my relationships, secure in my image and refusing to rely on projections, allowing myself to be seen always as i truly am. and knowing that who i truly am is amazing and wanted and loved, and always enough. i prioritize and take mindful care of my physical and mental health, my overall well being. i do not engage in things that aren’t good for me, i do not engage with people who are not good for me, i let go of any and all self destructive tendencies and behaviors. i act only in my own best interest, while keeping in mind the best interest of those around me. i surround myself with people who match my true desires, my life path, and my vibrational frequencies. i surround myself with people devoted to healing, moving forward, doing good in the world and in themselves. i surround myself with people full of love and good intentions, towards me and towards themselves and towards the world and the people around them. i surround myself with people who are good for me, who will help me to grow and heal and become better with each day. i do the same for them. i engage only in mutually beneficial relationships, i do not engage in relationships that are one-sided or unhealthy. i accept and acknowledge that no one is perfect, no relationship is perfect, and mistakes will always be made. i deal with these mistakes, imperfections, and upsets in a healthy and productive manner, having a conversation about how i feel and what will happen going forward. i do not let any issues fester or remain unresolved. i resolve issues with intentional care and conversation, communicating about any and all hurts and disappointments, and coming to a healthy resolution. i am loving, intimate, open, vulnerable, trusting, and constantly connecting with those i care about. my outward appearance reflects my inner self. i am easily able to present the way i want, allowing my presentation to shift day to day, minute to minute, whenever necessary in order to reflect my truest and deepest self. my gender presentation is as free and unlimited as my gender itself. i am easily able to afford and buy clothes that reaffirm my self image and my gender. i am pleased with my appearance when i look in the mirror, always. i truly love myself, the person i am both internally and externally. i love all aspects and facets of myself. i am unashamed of myself and my body, my mind and my intensity. i am free to be myself in every way, every place, every situation. i never hold myself back, and i refuse to allow anyone else to hold me back. i move forward with intention and ease, clarity and insight, a true and obvious path. i go on short trips frequently, whether driving aimlessly, going to a new city, a new state, a new country. i embrace adventure into my life, trying new things constantly, never turning down an opportunity for exploration or new experiences. my comfort zone is ever expanding, and i am always willing to try new things. i let go of anxiety and worry, allowing myself to enjoy each moment by being in it fully. i do not worry about what others think of me, i let them express it if they will, otherwise focusing on myself. focusing on how much i love myself, how happy i am to be me. focusing on the experience, being in the moment and basking in how lucky and blessed i am to live out such experiences. i meet new people and make intense connections. i don’t worry if these connections will last or fade, allowing them to be whatever they are, and enjoying them fully in doing so. i let go of expectations, allowing myself to be pleasantly surprised by every outcome. in driving aimlessly, i enjoy the feel of the wind on my face as we roll the windows down, admiring the scenery around us, talking about everything and nothing, listening to random radio stations as we shift from what comes in, enjoying the music and each other’s company and the road ahead of us. we stop someplace that looks interesting to eat, and we chat with the staff and other customers, enjoying conversation and new people and their new perspectives. we connect easily with those around us, enjoying the food and the company and the experience itself. we aren’t reluctant to leave, having enjoyed each moment without the expectation that it will last. sometimes we make new friends, staying in contact with those we meet through chance encounter. we always have good stories and fond memories to look back on. in going to new cities, we wander aimlessly, checking out shops and activities and finding beauty in it all. we don’t have any goal, we’re not looking for anything specific, just a meaningful and exciting experience. and we always find it. we see art and hear music and meet people we otherwise never would have. we see how different each place is, even when they look the same from the outside. we find something beautiful in each city we visit, something memorable to take home with us. sometimes we stay overnight, sleeping in the back of the car or in a hotel. we stay up late talking about the day, how fun and exciting it is to be somewhere we’ve never been before, somewhere no one knows us except each other. sometimes we make up stories about who we are, having fun crafting new realities, new selves. never with the pretense of lying, just having fun with our imaginations and the way perceptions shift. we’re endlessly creative in our adventures, finding hidden spots and beautiful things, beautiful and interesting people. we are endlessly comfortable with each other, basking in the presence of someone so familiar and loved. we’re never uncomfortable and we part before we could possibly get tired of each other’s presence. we learn new things about each other and ourselves, have meaningful and silly conversations, and everything in between. we sit outside and make art, paint and write and sing and dance. we experience life fully, embracing it and cultivating it. we are affectionate and intimate with each other, growing closer and closer, strengthening our bond and connection. we touch frequently and casually, meaningfully and with care. we touch each other’s faces and hold hands and have such casual and loving intimacy with each other. we don’t worry about what other’s think of us, certain in our own understanding. we take pictures, of ourselves and each other and everything around us. we make memories and make sure they’re documented and we don’t let this documentation overpower the experience, only enhance it. i get new piercings and new tattoos, and have fun with my appearance. i allow my visual identity to be fluid, changing as often as i’d like. i always have money and opportunity to change my appearance. money flows easily and constantly to me, it is a constant present in my life, and i never have to worry about having enough because i know i am abundant, prosperous, wealthy, and taken care of. my needs are always met. my desires are always fulfilled. i am able to indulge without guilt in what is good for me. i support creatives and am supported in return. my career flourishes, both writing and spiritual. i am published frequently and i am proud of myself. i know i and my writing are deserving and full of talent. i write and create constantly, i don’t let anything take my creativity or passion from me. i finish all the projects i start, finding joy and pride in the completion, the fruition of my efforts. i create things i am proud of, and i do not dismiss their worth. i tend to my writing with care, allowing it to grow and experiment, allowing it to be playful and joyful just as often as it is serious and intense. i don’t limit myself or my abilities for creation. i allow myself to be as expressive and creative as possible.

#1010 #1031 #124 #1051 #33 #1055 #72 #277 #1110 #1111 #1118 #1131 #1141 #1144 #wishes #manifestations #full moon manifestations #1154 #🧿🧿🧿🧿

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wheredimensionscollide · 5 years ago

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Here is an understanding of all my hatred and anger and loss and lust and fire and fuel that patronises my youth

Unbashed exercises of attitude wanderings,

Fucking plaigarising the coolness of other peoples offerings

I am so annoyed with how i cant see holistically and how, this love does not flow so easily (it will and it does)

I do like my eyes

and i feel like my life is not a performance

i feel like im energised

and to choose love is what we become

to consciously let go

and to let this anger fuel into love than anything else

because wandering helps

because wondering helps

i dont like how i have to be, but its an exploration nonethetless,

of loving and infinity

i have been inside for far too long so open up the wings and begin to fly again with my supporting love within myself,

i am that i am

the world can sustain me

i am enough

i am worthy

i deserve love

i am love

i am loved

i am so loved

i am happily loved

i am so happy and loved

i desreve wealth and an ocean of wealth

i deserve abundance

i attract and enjoy all the love and light in my life

i am soothing

i am peaceful

i am bliss

i let go of the resentment

i release all the hatred

i devote my life to love’s light

i deserve love and joy

and peace and light

i deserve the very best in life

this is the truth

my heart is beautiful

my heart is bountiful

i am happy

i am rested and soundly healed

i am beautiful

i am beauty

i am radiating joy

i am safety

i am safe

i am kind

i am loved

i am love

i deserve love

i deserve joy

i deserve wealth and peace and harmony

i am so relaxed

i am relaxed

my body is loving every moment of life

my truth unfolds naturally

i am happy

my dancing body loves life

i am so happy

i am loved and lovely

i am so happy

my mind is clear

my mind is filled with uplifting thoughts

my mind loves every person and every being

love clears my space

love is all around me and love enfolds me

i am happy and loved

i am so happy and loved,

my body is healthy

my body is well rested

there is no sense of urgency

i can relax and let go

love is here and now

thank you for helping me grow,

thank you for teaching me how to relax and to sow the seeds of love and light

that i deserve my love and i am worthy of my love

that i trust myself

i trust myself

i believe in myself

i believe in myself lovingly

i forgive myself

i forgive myself for all the hurt and for all the uncomfortable situations i have gone through, i let them go and i cleanse them with unconditional light and unconditional love,

i let this go

love is lovely,

i am true to myself

i love and honour myself

i cherish myself

i am happy

my body is healthy

i am filled with love and life

my body is healthy

love flows to me abundantly and prosperously,

my heart is happy

my heart is strong and so is my body

i am a sanctuary of light and of love

my body is healthy

i am forgiven

i forgive you and i am forgiven,

i am frogiven,

i am healthy

i am strong

my body rests peacefully

i am strong and healthy

my mind and body is filled with peace and sounds of love,

there is harmony

there is deep relaxation,

i am happy

i feel soothing love and soothing joy fill my space in eevery direction as it heals me,

i am so happy and grateful for this energy,

thank you for filling my space iwth so much grace and for pouring this divine light and love all around me,

and thank you for healing my back and lighting up my life wherever i go,

thank you so much grace and divine light,

thank you so much for all the love,

thank you to myself for breathing out,

and thank you for restfully sleeping, relaxing, and being true to yourself no matter what,

i love you beyond everything,

i love you regardless of anyhting,

i love you unconditionally anushka sachdev,

i love you so very much,

i am so loving towards the world,

i love you so much anushka and the entire world,

i love you,

i forgive you,

i am beginning to trust you,

i believe in you,

i believe in your healing powers,

thank you for filling this space up with divine light and divine grace,

thank you thank you thank you,

in full faith,

so be it

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william-blackwell · 6 years ago

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The Hat Man: Guardian Angel or Devil?

Who is the Hat Man? A guardian angel or the devil in disguise?

According to numerous reports, he’s a mysterious spirit entity who often visits people in their bedrooms at night. Sometimes he terrifies them. Other times he leaves them with a sense of peace and calm.

What does he look like? He’s a black, shadowy apparition, darkly cloaked, wearing a wide-rimmed black hat resembling a fedora.

What does the Hat Man want? To some he’s the devil in disguise, a grim reaper of sorts, and a harvester of souls.

Some believe he preys on fear, striking you when your defenses are low and you’re down and out.

Many people report seeing him in their waking lives. Some even claim he’s trashed their houses and tried to strangle them to death in the middle of the night.

According to Heidi Hollis, author of The Hat Man, The True Story of Evil Encounters, he’s not only real, but he is the devil. She writes, “Victims worldwide have reported seeing this man peering into their homes, their bedrooms, their baby cribs, their cars and even—their souls.”

Some have been able to defeat him by calling out the name of Jesus, or having their homes blessed, while others, according to reports, just beat the crap out of him. Some simply order him out of their homes.

But others claim the Hat Man is a guardian angel, whose purpose is to protect them from harm.

The Hat Man is often seen with his band of followers, the Shadow People.

Where did the Hat Man come from? Where did the Shadow People come from?

According to Wikipedia, shadowy entities are “the perception of a patch of shadow as a living, humanoid figure, particularly as interpreted by believers in the paranormal or supernatural as the presence of a spirit of other entity.”

Some researchers claim shadowy entities date as far back as 300 AD. Wikipedia says, “A number of religions, legends, and belief systems describe shadowy spiritual beings or supernatural entities such as shades of the underworld, and various shadowy creatures have long been a staple of folklore and ghost stories.”

There are other theories about the origins of the Hat Man and the Shadow People.

A neurological theory: Shadow People and Hat Man images occur during sleep paralysis, a mysterious sleeping disorder occurring in that transitional stage between waking and falling asleep during which a person becomes completely immobilized and often sees frightening images. According to the neurological theory, these shadowy entities are merely the manifestation of a sleeping disorder and by extension nothing more than a product of the subconscious mind.

A religious theory: Shadow People are the evil minions of the devil, sent to snatch our souls and drag us down into the bowels of hell.

Another religious theory: Shadow People are guardian angels, sent from heaven to protect our souls and shield us from evil.

The scientific theory: Some physicists believe that unexplained forces are causing other dimensions to merge with ours. This merging of different dimensions would explain why we can only see the Shadow People and the Hat Man as shadowy figures who have the ability to transcend our laws of gravity, float through walls, fly, and change shapes at random.

According to this theory, the Hat Man and the Shadow People are the extra-dimensional inhabitants of another universe or another dimension. That’s why they can disappear and reappear in the drop of a hat. Or maybe in the drop of the Hat Man.

Regardless of what theory you subscribe to, one thing is certain. The Hat Man and the Shadow people drive terror and fear into the hearts of some, and peace and joy into the hearts of others.

Doing research recently on my soon-to-be-released supernatural thriller, The Dark Menace, I posted a blog asking people to tell me their experiences with the Hat Man and the Shadow People.

Needless to say, I received a lot of responses—some terrifying, others heartwarming. Here are some excerpts:

1.) Rather frightening:

When I was around four, I think at the time my parents were going through a divorce. I was sleeping on my mom’s bed one night and had to go to the bathroom, so I got up and went to use the bathroom and she was still sleeping. I came back and fell back to sleep. I woke up to a pitch black shadow of a man staring at me at the edge of the bed. It felt like an eternity, he was staring. My whole body was frozen with fear. He started growing in height, almost reaching the ceiling. At this point I turned my body and fell back to sleep. The next night I woke up and felt the urge to walk to the living room. I walked to the living room to see a shadow man at my front door. My dad was sleeping on the couch. I tried waking him up. I tried pushing at him, and to no avail. He wasn’t waking up. I walked back to my mom’s room to sleep, hoping it would go away. I looked back to see the shadow person staring at my dad.

2.) On a more positive note:

The Hat Man visits me nearly every week in lucid dreaming. And I have only good experiences with him. We just talk normally and I often ask him questions. For example, I ask how he comes to my dreams, who he is, and so on. Once he showed me his tarot cards. That was funny. I always try to look in his face, and he looks like an Arabian type of man. But I want to mention, that he’s not the only Hat Man. He has a brother, too. They are very different.

3.) Somewhere in that mysterious twilight zone between black and white:

Hey, I have seen the Hat Man. He was on the left side of my bed but when I awoke and saw him. I did feel an intense sense of fear. I began to think that fear was created by myself over time. I was sleeping next to my partner and we were going through a troubling time, when I saw the Hat Man I saw it wasn’t me he had interest in but my partner. It’s very strange because I couldn’t see his eyes but I knew he was looking at him. He was there until I managed to panic and turned on the light. I have never seen him again but on occasion I think about him and wonder if he will reappear and why he did. I was scared at first but now I feel he is of some good. I am unsure. This was in maybe 2011. I was sexually attacked by a man that year. I put him behind bars for seven years but I felt strong, like I knew I could do it, but then suffered a year with anxiety and depression. Did he cause this? Or was it a warning? I am unsure. I am mentioning this due to other related aftermaths.

4.) Now that’s downright chilling:

He’s from the Void/VALE of DARKNESS. I saw the hooded man/grim reaper. I saw two of them when I was 6 years old and I was shaking and heard whispers and voices and I had a severe high fever. I was hallucinating with nightmares and night terrors. This happened back in 2004 and after that the next day I was blacking out in the morning. I had to go to the doctor. I almost died in that experience.

5.) And on the flipside:

I’ve seen the Hat Man four times in my life. The first time I was about 6 years old, and the sighting snapped me awake from a dead sleep. The next two visits followed that night closely (maybe within 4-7 days apart from the first visit). Seeing him the first time, the tall, dark shadow figure, wearing a fancy top hat, absolutely petrified me. The next two times he woke me from a dead sleep, dressed the same (trench coat, top hat, beard, kind features) and wasn’t in shadow form. I wasn’t afraid of him at all, and actually rather drawn to him. I felt like he was an old friend in this form. I won’t go into much detail but these two accounts are drilled into my memory as something spiritual and friendly. Now, the fourth time I saw him was a few days ago (some 30 years later), back in shadow form, just watching me sleep. I wasn’t afraid and felt oddly comforted. My research the past few days has been really surprising because I’m not finding any other stories of people with good experiences with the Hat Man. Surely, I can’t be the only one?

No, you’re not. Researching the strange Hat Man phenomenon for The Dark Menace, two things became abundantly clear. Some view him as evil, others as good.

I certainly don’t have all the answers, but have you ever thought about this: Maybe it depends on your perspective. Are you glass half full? Or glass half empty?

In The Dark Menace, I take a deep dive into these questions and many more. The culmination of over six months of research, this supernatural thriller endeavors to find answers to a strange and mysterious real-life phenomenon that has haunted and terrorized thousands of people around the world for centuries.

The Dark Menace short synopsis:

Mysterious and terrifying attacks by the Shadow People and the Hat Man lead a nightmare-plagued man to suspect an enigmatic doctor has accidentally opened a portal to Hell.

#hatman

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venusrosepetal · 7 years ago

Text

Our Girl (Welcome to Hell)

Summary: (Modern!AU) Army medic, Private L/N, gets deployed on her first tour of Afghanistan. Struggling to fit in with her new comrades and adapt to the world of war, Pte L/N finds herself befriending a local, and pushing the boundaries of army regulations.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes - Reader x OC

Warnings: war, angst, blood, gore, death, PTSD, terrorism, stereotypes, sexual indications, swearing, cockney, slow-burn, a little offensive maybe? (throughout series)

Key: Pte - Private. Cpl - Corporal. Sgt - Sergeant. Skrimmed - Tassels. PT - Physical Training. TAB - Run in full kit with weight and weapons. Doris - Woman/Girl

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: I hope this is good and easy to read. Please also remember this is my first time writing. Tags are at the bottom and I’m sorry there isn’t too much of Sgt Barnes in this, but he’ll be around more and more as time goes on! & Isn’t Wanda awesome!! Sorry if you find the soldiers nicknames weird, they are the actual names from the TV show.

Camp Bastion, Afghanistan. 4:30am

The journey to Afghanistan was drab.

Soldiers lined the cold aircraft walls; kit cluttered around their feet. Most were now either asleep or conversing with their comrades. Faces wrinkled in pure joy, despite the knowledge of what’s waiting on the other side.

Sleep seemed to evade you as your eyes wandered over the many faces littered within the shuttle. Not everyone here will make it home. Your chest tightened at the thought of losing a peer, especially one in your section. The five guys whose lives you’re responsible for saving.

Fingers, Mansfield, Dangleberries, Baz-vegas and Smurf. Your brothers in green.

To your left, Captain Rogers absently fiddled with his radio. His perfectly styled blonde hair no longer hidden under his navy beret. Was this guy immune to hat hair?

You let your focus wander down from his hair, taking in his strong jaw, crystal blue eyes, and inhuman physique. Seriously, did they all look like this in America? “Right. We’re thirty minutes outside Bastion, put on all protective clothing including helmets.” The Captain ordered. Forcing yourself out of your trance, you began to attach your armor. A bullet-proof vest covered your torso while pads protected your knees and elbows. Hard-knuckled gloves shielded your hands as you strap your skrimmed-helmet under your chin and swung your duffel bag onto your back. Nervous butterflies spew in your stomach when the plane begins to drop. Your fingers gripped tightly onto metal ridges of the bench as your eyes squeeze closed; trying desperately to free yourself from this new-found anxiety.

Until now you had been undoubtedly excited to get to Afghan. Excited to do your job and help the Afghan people dismantle the Taliban and regain their home.

However, at this moment, you’re terrified.

Sand bags and shipping containers made up the four-mile walls surrounding Camp Bastion, with the inside absolutely brimming with flat-pack tin buildings, tents, vehicles and large weaponry.

Marching with your section, you made your way over to a large, green tent. Perfectly lined up US soldiers stood straight just outside.

“Section halt! Right turn!” Captain Rogers commanded. You stomp your right foot closely to your left with your back straight. Sharply turning right and stomping again, your sections stood to attention alongside the US soldiers.

“Under five’s, Welcome to Afghanistan. This ugly bunch here,” He signaled towards the US soldiers. “like to call themselves The Avengers. ” You snorted at the name.

Modest much?

The Captain ignored your little disruption and began introducing his team. There was Sam - a gorgeous, dark-skinned, well-built man, with a gap tooth and killer smirk. Clint – A slim, dirty blonde with a face that said ‘I seriously couldn’t give a fuck’ and Tony – A cocksure engineer with ridiculously trimmed facial hair.

Within minutes, tears were streaming freely down your face. Sam was attempting to impersonate your South-Eastern accent causing you to double over laughing. You covered your face with both hands and attempt to hide the ugly-laugh-face you pulled when something really set you off.

Your laughter started to slow as you straightened up, only to notice the whole platoon was now braced and facing towards the front. Copying your comrades, you quickly stood-to-attention, facing forward.

Next to the Captain stood an equally beefy brunette. His dark hair was definitely longer than army regulation usually allowed; falling just below his ears. A few strands fell around his face as he ran his finger through the tousled locks. Dark stubble surrounded his pink lips and a long, straight nose stood proudly between two captivating blue eyes, that just so happened to be scowling at you through the bodies of your peers.

You were definitely sporting some serious heart eyes right now. How come the US got all the male models and the UK got a smurf and a knock-off Prince Harry?

Standing up straighter, you mumble a quick apology to the sour-faced brunette and averted your gaze to Captain Rogers.

“ This is Sergeant Barnes.” The Captain motioned Mr blue-eyes. “He will be leading you through your two-day simulation here in Bastion, as well as joining you on your first mission. Barnes here is on his fourth tour of Afghanistan, there’s no one I trust more than him.” He placed a firm hand on the Sergeants shoulder, smiling fondly in the process.

The sight of the smiling sergeant was enough to make you go weak in the knees. The way his eyes almost completely closed and his nose scrunched up above his wide toothy smile.

If you weren’t drooling before, you definitely are now.

After leaving the boys their tent to get situated, you found yourself wandering the sandy base trying to find the female quarters. Sergeant Barnes had made it abundantly clear you would not be bunking alongside your male associates. Instead, sending you out alone with a side-eye and a snide remark along the lines of ’ did you even pass geography in school?‘

Now both the Captain and the Sergeant seem to dislike you. All you did was giggle a little bit and try to lighten the heavy mood. Maybe these guys were just all work and no play, if so, you sure as hell weren’t going to get along. You were well known in training for being disobedient and a joker.

Footsteps were gaining behind you causing you to snap your head in their direction. Your dust-filled eyes found those of the only prick who could make your mood fifty percent better or one-hundred percent worse: Smurf.

“Barnes sent me to help you find your way. He thought our little Doris would get lost on her own.” He shook his head towards the floor, walking along side you. “Why’d he send you? Sam said this is his second tour, surely he’d know exactly where they are.” you quipped. “Because he loves me, everyone loves me. I’m the life and soul pal.” “Oh fuck off Smurf.I don’t know if I can put up with six months of your bullshit..”

“Are you really that pissed off that Barnes likes me?”

”Well. maybe I don’t want that rude prick to like me!” You defended. “ You know what Y/N, find your own way. Sergeant Barnes is a better person than you’ll ever be.” With that he stormed off in the direction he’d come from, once again leaving you to find your own way. “Are you looking for the female quarters?” Voiced the petite brunette just a few steps ahead. You nodded at her question causing her to reach over and take one of your bags. “ I’ll show you. Don’t worry about Smurf,” she assured as she led you into another large tent. “Dump your kit, the bed next to mine is free. I’m Wanda.” she outstretched her hand after dropping your bag on the empty bed. You shook her small hand briefly stating your name and a thank you. “You know Smurf.” You asked as you put your kit under the bed. “Not really, but I knew his twin brother, he was killed in Area Fifteen.”

“You’re joking?”

“Barnes was his Sergeant too, that's why Smurf won’t hear a bad word about him.”

“I just called him a rude prick.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Geraint was shot in the neck on patrol. Sergeant Barnes crawled about two hundred meters on his stomach to retrieve his body. He wasn’t leaving him as a trophy for the Taliban.” She smiled sympathetically. “He’d do the same for you.” She continued.

You widen your eyes as the words spill from Wanda’s mouth. Not for a second did you expect that to be the reason behind Smurfs sudden outburst.

”Let’s hope he doesn’t have too.” You mumbled. “He’s just come across so snotty and rude like I’m not good enough for his platoon.”

“It’s ok. He can come across that way sometimes, but he’s a good guy and an even better soldier.” She smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t we get dinner later, they have a pizza hut here?” “That would be great, thanks, Wanda. Can I ask you one question?” She smiled and nodded to you, urging you to continue. “ Does it always feel like you’re walking through treacle here?” At this Wanda let out a full belly laugh, throwing her head back nodding in the process.

“You did what!?” Wanda gasped, Staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“I gave a recruit a lap dance in basic.” You laughed, taking a bite of your greasy pizza, while she stared at you in bewilderment.

“Where? Why? H-how?” Holding your hands up in surrender, she paused with her questions and picked up her slice again; raising her eyebrows for you to explain.

“Well first off, it was a dare. We were going home for a long weekend the next day so we had a couple of games. I had let slip a few weeks before that I had taken a six-week lap dancing class, as part of a bridal party, so they just picked a guy and I gave him a lap-dance. It was either that or streak round the quarters.” you huffed a laugh as you recited the vivid memory. Basic training truly was the best time of your life.

Brushing your fingers over your trouser legs, you interlock your fingers and use them to rest your chin as you continued.

“ We went into the storage locker where they kept the rations and I gave him a lap dance. It was mortifying really. I couldn’t look him in the eye again.” Wanda was staring as if you had grown two heads.

She opened her mouth to speak when a loud alarm rang through the air. To you, it sounded like a nuke warning, but one look at Wanda and you knew that wasn’t the case.

She scrambled off the bench, quickly tossing the pizza in the bin a few feet away. Another woman ran up to her, rambling something you couldn’t make out.

“ Six injured, they’re bringing them in now. All medical personal report to the hospital.” She shouts to you as she begins to run backward.

“Me!?”

“ You’re medical aren’t you?” you run towards the hospital, rounding onto the main dirt road within the camp. Your legs are burning as you run up behind the ambulance. Wanda jumps on the nearest stretcher, ready to wheel it into the hospital.

Your panicking eyes ghost over the quivering body that occupied the stretcher. A man, no older than twenty-five. The skin around his eyes was clean from tears when the rest of his body was covered in soot, dirt, and blood.

“Y/N! GET ON THE STRETCHER!” Wanda’s voice snapped through your trance, and look at her. You force your shaking hands to grasp the end of the stretcher and push it forward through the hospital doors.

Looking back over the crying male, you finally notice his injuries. Legs completely blown below the knees. Blood was oozing from around the shattered bones as bits of flesh hung on to the red wound by threads.

He’s not going to make it.

Pulling up to the bed, a team of surgeons moves in, sticking the soldier full of needles and IVs, preparing for theater. You take a step back as the room begins to spin. Adrenaline was pumping through you by the bucket load as more soldiers with similar injuries begin coming into the room.

You’re still stumbling backward as you hit the shoulder of another medic.

“Pull yourself together medic.”

“Private L/N?”

“Private L/N!”

You knotted your running shoes and straightened out your shorts and t-shirt. Sergeant Barnes had requested yesterday that your section do a PT session this morning to help your bodies acclimatize to the warmer conditions. By this morning he meant four-thirty am, and by PT he meant a tab which became apparent when you stepped outside the tent to find all nine men dressed in their full uniform.

“I suppose I should be glad you’re not wearing your stilettos,” Barnes mocked as the guys wolf-whistled. “It’s full kit L/N.”

“Yes, boss.” You replied as you ducked back into the tent to get changed.

Thirty minutes into the tab and you were breathing out of your arse. The images from the hospital kept you from sleep last night, every time you shut your eyes all you saw was blood, bones, and flesh. So not only did it feel as though you were inhaling golden syrup with every breath, you were a majorly sleep deprived.

You ran in the back. Sergeant Barnes ran ahead of the section, leading the way around his makeshift course. He doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat, let alone about to keel over like you.

“Is everyone acclimatizing to the conditions?” He yelled. His voice completely gasp free. A chorus of ‘yes’ or 'boss’ was answered back, all coming out slightly breathy. “Alright, sprint the last fifty meters. GO!” They all took off running. Totally distancing themselves from you.

“Smurf! Drop to the floor!” following commands, Smurf hurriedly fell to the sand, laying flat on his back. Everyone stopped by him.

“ Medic! Man down! Left arm blown off above the elbow! What are you going to do?” The boss shouted at you, walking to you as you try to jog to Smurf without passing out. Slowing down, even more, you suppress the urge to vomit as you slowly squat before the 'injured’ soldier. Panting furiously, your shaking fingers fumbled with the tourniquet.

“ Come on medic! You gonna let him bleed out while you gasp for air like a puffer fish?!” You give the Sgt the angriest look you could muster while still gasping for air. Your fingers would not separate the Velcro tourniquet no matter how hard you tried.

“L/N! Come! On! This isn’t Call of Duty. If someone stands on an IUD, there’s a life to save!” Smurf was staring at you with a pitiful look, while the others looked terrified at the fact the person in charge of saving them, can’t open a bloody tourniquet.

“Smurf get up! Get yourselves showered!” Smurf jumped up and the section took off running again. You slowly stand, jogging after them with Barnes at your side. You were right. He hadn’t broken a sweat.

“He could’ve died just then L/N.” He was speaking quieter now, but you could still her the enmity in his tone. “Now please don’t tell me we’ve got the only medic who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

You didn’t answer. You just gave him a look that said 'please can you fuck yourself’ and carried on running. Barnes stayed running beside you for a few seconds more before sighing and running off to the showers.

What a fucking asshole.

TAGS: @jacks-on-crack @sebstanwassup @kozmicrock @just-call-me-mrs-captain @beccaanne814-blog @charlesgrey1875 @kimistry27 @marvelrevival @viollettes @letmebecomeataboo @phvckingphandoms @langinator @emolordisme @magsimovna @fairchild21 @shelvesandwhelves @viollettes

#mynameispaigex #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky au #ourgirl

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