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snackara · 4 months ago

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Chapter Five: You’re A Star!

Asha blinks and shakes her head. “What- of course not! That- That’s impossible! You’re supposed to be up there, not down here.” She says, pointing to the sky.

“Well, usually yes,” Earendel says, floating around Asha. “But you called me down with your wish. So now I’m here too help you make that wish come true.”

“Make my wish come true?” Asha looks up at the stars. “So those stories my father told me about the stars granting people’s wishes were true?”

“Yep, they were!” Earendel smiles and nods. “Although, it’s been a really long time since a star has even come down to Earth.”

“Because people tried to steal your magic,” Asha replies with slight worry.

Earendel nods before straightening up and landing in front of Asha. “But don’t worry, I’ll help make your wish come true.” He clears his throat and bows to Asha. “Fair maiden, you have given so much happiness to others, you deserve to have your wish come true. It shall be my honor to- woah whAT IS THAT?”

Asha looks to where Earendel is looking. Valentino stands there stiffly, narrowing his eyes at Earendel. “That is my genet, Valentino. Valentino, meet Earendel, the star.”

“Woah ho ho! A real genet? I’ve never seen one up close before!” Earendel leans down close to Valentino, making him jump back and hiss. “Hey, it’s okay buddy, I’m not gonna-“ he’s interrupted by Valentino swiping a paw at his face, which simply phases through his nose, “-hurt you.”

Asha clears her throat and picks Valentino up. “Okay, this has been fun and all, but I really need to go home now. I have a lot to do tomorrow, and the last thing I need is getting someone else caught in the middle of it. Especially a child.” She turns around and starts to walk away.

“Wait!” Earendel flies after Asha, stopping her in her tracks. “Don’t you want my help? That’s kind of the whole reason I’m here.”

Asha scoffs. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I am Alondra of Rosas! Trust me, I can handle myself.”

“But-but wouldn’t it be easier if I helped you? I can do magic, watch.” Earendel sprinkles a little stardust onto the ground. In that spot, a flower blooms and glows with starlight.

“Look, I appreciate the thought, really. But I don’t need you you tagging along and slowing me down,” Asha says, walking around Earendel.

“Your wish is a pretty big one though. I mean, saving a whole kingdom? Without your own magic? That sounds almost impossible without a little help.” Earendel says as he trails behind Asha. At this point several animals poke their heads out of the bushes and start to gather around Earendel, following him.

Asha sighs and rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Oh, how hard can it be? All I need is my sword. Now if you don’t mind I need to go get ready. Go home back to the sky or wherever.”

Earendel stops in his tracks and looks away. His glow dims. “Well, about that…”

Asha stops and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before she turns around. “Don’t tell me…”

“I don’t know how to go home.” Earendel floats up to a tree and sits down between two branches. “You see, I didn’t travel here by myself when you made your wish. My magic isn’t strong enough. Our queen sent me down here to help you. So I can’t go back until she uses her magic to portal me back.”

Asha sighs and runs her hand down her face. “And of course that idiota had to send down the most annoying star to try and ‘help’ me.”

“HEY!” Earendel flies down close to Asha’s face, making her and Valentino jump back in surprise. He glows more red now and his anger makes several of the animals scuttle back. “Don’t you dare speak of Queen Chiara that way! She’s the kindest and wisest star in the whole galaxy, and I will not tolerate you calling her an idiota. Look, I don’t know why she sent me specifically down here either, but she did not do it arbitrarily.”

“Okay okay, I’m sorry.” Asha says. Earendel floats back, his hair going back to yellow. Asha stays silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “So, I’m stuck with you until my wish comes true?”

Earendel shrugs. “Pretty much.”

Asha sets Valentino down and sighs, sitting on a log. “Great. And here I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.” She puts her face in her hands. Valentino whines and tilts his head.

Earendel frowns as he senses Asha’s grief and floats over to the log, sitting down next to her. “Hey, don’t worry, everything’s gonna be okay. I have no doubt you can make your wish come true. You know why?”

“Why?” Asha asks, looking up from her hands.

“Because you’re a star!” Earendel says, jumping up and holding his arms out.

“…huh?” Is all Asha says with a perplexed look. “I thought you were the star.”

“Well yes, but not like that. I mean, y’know,” Earendel huffs and puts his hands on his hips. “How do I explain this? Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers and whistles for the animals. “Hey, could you guys come help me out?”

The animals gather around Earendel and he sprinkled stardust onto them. They look around and start to speak.

“Woah, it worked!” “Who knew I would sound like this?” “This is amazing!”

Earendel smiles and throws stardust at several trees, making them come to life. They yawn and stretch their branches. Asha looks around, still very confused. “What’s going on here?” Realization slowly dawns on her face. “oh wait no doN’T START-!”

(TOO LATE NOW!)

🎵You’re a Star🎵

youtube

Earendel

Forest Critters

Asha

Have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers? Or why flowers in the wind are effortless and elegant dancers? Or how the tides in the sea move along to the beat?

(Earendel spins around and starts singing as Asha facepalms. He points to the sky. The stars form a flower constellation, then reshape and move like waves.)

What's passed down generationally, to him, to her, to you? And to me? And why our eyes all look like microscopic galaxies? Have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?

(Earendel points to a large tree, who points to another with its branch, who points to another, who points to a sapling that sings the last bit. An owl hops onto a branch in front of Asha, and we see a close up shot of its eyes. Earendel smiles at Asha and flies up after the last line, splaying his limbs out wide and sending stardust everywhere.)

Well, you don't have to look too hard Just find that spark inside your heart If you're try'na figure out just who you are Don't look far Don’t be ashamed of all your scars It’s all okay, let down your guard If you really wanna know just who you are You're a star!

(The animals begin to sing along with Earendel and dance around him and Asha. Asha still looks confused, but smiles a little. Valentino meanwhile looks terrified. Earendel dances around them, beaming.)

Boom! Now I know this must be a lot Well, I- Don’t speak, just free your thoughts! In the game of life, we're all shareholders

(Butterflies fly out from behind Asha. Earendel holds up his hands as he sings the second line. Asha glances away and begins to speak before Earendel puts a finger to her lips and gestures to the animals.)

We glow up! Like we’re about to go…solar! See everything’s looking up for us, every one of us Supernova to the brink of something wondrous The world aglow in shades of color all over So get up! Show the world you’re no poser!

(The animals take over for the next part as several rabbits dance around Asha. One pops up in front of the camera on “solar”. Earendel floats in a hammock-style position as he follows a turtle down a stream, nodding to the beat. He floats by Asha and jokingly punches her in the shoulder. Asha stumbles a little, but stays smiling.)

We eat the leaves and they eat the sun It’s no mystery where all our soul comes from Hey, you still look like you're hanging on by a strand Just open your mind up and you’ll understand

(Two mice sing on a leaf, and the camera pans up to the rest of the flower blooming against the moon. Earendel circles Asha and grabs a couple sticks, bearing them against some mushrooms like drums.)

So do you get it now? …I guess so? Good enough for me!

(Earendel tosses the sticks aside and looks at Asha hopefully. Asha does not in fact understand any of this, but hesitantly smiles and tilts her head. What else can she say? Earendel shrugs.)

Well, you don't have to look too hard You’re more then the sun of all your parts If you're try'na figure out just who you are You're a star! Don’t worry if your world goes dark ‘Cause you’ll find home, it’s not too far If you really wanna know just who you are You’re a star!

(A herd of deer run b, and two lift Earendel and Asha onto their backs. Stardust swirls around them like wind. They leap off a short cliff and Earendel flies off. Asha falls and lands

Here's a little tree allegory That gets me inspiratory You’ve got so much to explore We all have got to write our own story Don’t look down if skies are stormy ‘Cause your sun will rise in the morning Hope you get this metaphor-y You have got to write your own story

(Earendel runs through a clearing, making the plants around him light up. Two raccoons dangle from another branch and sing to Asha, nodding to the music. Several quail run around Asha, lighting up the ground in a similar shot as the film. More animals gather around on the final line.)

You don't have to look too hard/Here’s a little tree allegory It's been within you from the start/That should be inspiratory If you're try'na figure out just who you are/You’ve got so much to explore We all have got to write our own story No matter if you’re small or large/Don’t look down when skies are stormy Just get out there and raise the bar/You’re sun will rise in the morning If you really wanna know just who you are I'm a star!

(Everyone dances joyously, with Asha at the center. She takes Earendel’s hands and dances with him, smiling. Even Valentino looks happy. Earendel spins away on his final line and points to Asha, along with the animals and plants. Asha punts her hands on her heart and the song concludes with everyone except Asha laughing and cheering.)

Earendel waves to the animals as they start to leave, his hair glowing brightly. “Bye guys! Thanks for all your help!”

“Bye-bye Earendel!”

“That was so fun!”

“I wonder when this will wear off?”

Earendel turns around to Asha, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “So can I help make your wish come true?”

Asha still looks hesitant. Her and Valentino exchange a glance and look back at Earendel. She has a bad feeling about this. But oh, those eyes. That face. How could she say no?

“Fine, fine, you can come and help me,” Asha says with a sigh.

Earendel grins and hugs Asha tightly. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much Alondra!”

Asha reaches up and pats Earendel’s head. “Please, call me Asha.” There’s a hiss from below and the two look down to see Valentino trying to claw at Earendel’s leg. “And, well, you’ve met Valentino already.”

“Oh yeah!” Earendel reaches down and scratch’s Valentino behind the ear. Valentino stiffens at first, but relaxes and chitters happily. Earendel stands back up and floats off of the ground. “Now, that’s enough talking. Let’s go save a kingdom!” And he flies off into the forest.

“Wait! I need to get my gear first!” Asha calls. There’s a few seconds of silence before Earendel comes back, looking embarrassed.

“Yeah, and I have no idea what we even need to do,” Earendel mumbles, scratching his head.

Asha jerks her head in the direction of the Hamlet. “Come with me and I’ll explain I everything to you.” Earendel nods and floats beside her as they go back to the Hamlet. Asha takes out her sketchbook and flips to a page showing the wish bubbles. “So, King Manuel and Queen Amaya make everyone give up their wishes when they come to Rosas or turn eighteen. But not just any wish, their deepest desire that drives their heart. Almost like a part of their soul. And about once a month Manuel will grant someone’s wish. But the rest he keeps locked away in his tower.”

Earendel shrugs. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Well, when someone is without their wish long enough, it starts to affect them,” Asha continues. “They become depressed and have no drive to follow their passions. And those are the lucky ones. The unlucky ones get sicker and weaker as time passes. I’ve seen it quite a few times in Rosas. And some…” she hesitates. “some die if they get too weak.”

Earendel’s brows furrow and he looks at Asha. “Then why do they take them away from people?”

“My father said that Manuel uses them to fuel his own magic,” Asha replies. “He never told me how he found out, but knowing Manuel it seems plausible.” The hamlet comes into view.

Earendel nods. “So we need to free the wishes and return them to their rightful owners.”

Asha nods. “Exactly. We’ll sneak into the castle and free the wishes. The details are a little fuzzy but I’ll figure them out on our way.” She looks around as she walks over to her house to make sure nobody sees them. “Okay, wait here while I get ready.” Earendel nods and stands to the side as Asha shuts the door. He looks around and sits down, poking a flower and making it glow. He smiles.

•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•

We cut back to the castle. Flazino is rubbing his eyes tiredly. “So let me get this straight: a star fell out of the sky all of a sudden, landed in the middle of the Uncharted Forest, and now you want me to go and find it in the middle of the night?”

There’s a wider shot, showing he’s in the throne room of the castle. Manuel is standing in front of his throne. “Yes, exactly.”

Flazino sighs. “Can’t this wait until the morning? It’s too dark out to go on a wild goose chase.”

“No, this cannot wait a moment,” Manuel insists, tapping his staff on the ground for emphasis. “We need to find that star before someone else does. Grimm only knows what some stupid peasant might try to do with it.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t go and fetch your little star?” Flazino asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.

Manuel chuckles and walks towards Flazino. “You know…it was very kind of me to let you keep your wish. Especially since everyone else in the kingdom your age has to give theirs up.” He stops in front of Flazino and pushes the tip of his staff against his chest. “But if you dare to defy me, I won’t hesitate to take it away. I could even crush it. Would you like that, boy?”

Flazino looks troubled by his father’s threats and looks away, schooling his expression. “I thought so,” Manuel says, pulling his staff away. “Now go get dressed, your horse should be ready for you.” Flazino nods and quickly walks out of the throne room.

We cut to a shot of Flazino, who’s now wearing a dark blue cloak, taking the reins of his horse from a guard outside the castle and riding off into the night. He gallops through the entrance of Rosas, and we see a brief montage of him riding through the countryside before he reaches the woods. He stops just outside, scanning the tree line. His horse softly nickers and takes a step back with worry.

“Hey, it’s okay, shhh,” Flazino says, petting his horse’s neck. “Come on. The sooner we find the star, the sooner we can leave.” He pulls the hood tighter over his head and walks into the woods.

Author Notes

I see why you all were saying rewriting this song was hell. Again I used a cover by Jonah Who Two, but that did not help in describing the visuals. There’s just so much going on so quickly. It works fine for a movie, but is hell on earth to write down. And I’m still a little hesitant when it comes to the lyrics. Earendel already gave a description of how he works for Asha and the audience, so I wanted the song to focus more on cheering up Asha and giving her a confidence boost. But I wonder if it would have been better to explain stars through the song instead Oh well, too late now. I just want to get to the villain song as soon as possible.

And we get a good introduction to Earendel! I wanted to draw a lot of his personality from the movie. He is very sweet and naive, but ready to throw hands for the ones he cares about (I’m sure that won’t be a problem later…).

He’s also very insistent on being helpful, because, well, he wants to prove himself to the queen. Like he says, he doesn’t know why she chose him to help Asha, but he’s willing to do the best he can. After all, who wouldn’t love some help from a star? So when Asha tells him no, it knocks the wind out of his sails. But he’s very persistent. It’s in his nature to be kind and caring towards others.

And we see the first glimpse of Asha being vulnerable around a stranger. It’s very small and brief, but it leads to Earendel cheering her up through “You’re a Star”. And seeing him be so genuine towards her, Asha lets him tag along. But make no mistake, at this point she’s still very reluctant about the idea.

And there’s the final scene with Flazino and Manuel. I meant to extend it to Flazino meeting Asha and Earendel and ending it there, but at that point I was just so tired of writing this chapter, so I ended it a little early. So the focus of the scene is more so the first time we see Manuel be directly abusive to Flazino. Which is especially harsh after we see what happened to Sabino.

And with that we finally conclude this chapter. Next chapter the trio will finally come together, so a lot of fun stuff there. Now if you’ll excuse me. *collapses*

Thanks for reading!

#Youtube #wish #wish rewrite #disney wish #wish 2023 #wish au #wish star #king magnifico #wish asha #asha #earendel #wish king magnifico #wish flazino #upon a star

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tryan-a-bex · 5 months ago

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Hob hadn’t really thought about it before that weird episode with the aliens who considered him the only adult human. He’d always kind of assumed that his new experiences were overwriting the old ones in his brain (he couldn’t remember everything, now could he? That would be a totally different super power). But now he was wondering. Was his brain more wrinkly than average? Did he have more neutral connections? Were they stronger? Maybe more patterned or something like that? Too bad he was never going to put himself in the hands of a mad scientist (too tempting for them to keep him or cut him apart to study him, he knew what humans were like, he was one).

No, an MRI was out of the question. But perhaps there was someone around who could see into his head.

“Duck,” he began, the next time he was cuddling post-coitally with Dream, “can you see my brain?”

“What? No! Why would you ask that?” Dream exclaimed.

“Well, I was just thinking. If brains gain wrinkles as you get older and learn things, does that mean mine is extra wrinkly?” Hob snuggled in closer as Dream began to rub his fingers through his sex tousled hair.

“Let me tell you a story,” Dream began, in his story-telling voice. (Hob had been ecstatic the first time he heard this voice, the first time Dream told him a story rather than the other way around.) “Once there was a woman who was trained to weave the most glorious tapestries. Every year, she would lay the groundwork and begin to weave and embroider the story she wanted to tell. But every winter the worms would come out each night and make holes in her work. She tried to patch the holes, but by spring the tapestry would be so full of holes that she couldn’t keep up, and she would have to abandon it. Every spring she started anew.

Then one year, she started using a new cream from the apothecary to care for her hands. She loved the smell, but apparently the worms did not. They went elsewhere, and she was finally able to weave in peace. She worked the whole winter on her tapestry, and in the spring, she continued to expand and decorate it. Finally, her vision was beginning to take shape.

For ten years, she worked on the tapestry, and at the end of ten years, it was complete in its final glory. People came from all over to marvel at its beauty and enjoy the story it told.

One day, the Prince of Stories himself came to visit the tapestry. He had recently been in a difficult situation, and his sister had suggested that he might find rest and joy in the beauty of the tapestry’s story. He was sceptical, remembering only the weaver’s early attempts.

When the Prince approached the tapestry, he was struck by its beauty and sat down in wonderment to take in its story. It was the story of a man, a very ordinary man, who made very ordinary choices out of first self preservation and then later greed. But this man continued on his journey and figured out that the best way to improve his own life was to uplift his community, and indeed, eventually, all of humanity. And so in his selfishness and greed, he became the kindest and wisest of men.

And the Prince of Stories wept, for here was the answer to his own story as well. His relief need not come at the expense of others, but indeed, as he prioritized his own recovery in a wise manner, all of those under his protection would benefit as well.” Dream stopped, letting the story go, into the unconscious collective of humanity.

“Oh, love,” Hob responded, curling his arms more tightly around Dream and calling him back to himself. “Always.”

Hob Gadling must have the most wrinkly brain

#dreamling #tryana find it back #oops my finger slipped

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liquor-liquor-lips · 3 years ago

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Thinking about how after that tired sigh of resignation and frustrated eye roll, Greg probably just sat there with him and tried to help him write his best man's speech.

Thinking as well about how they would have definitely gone over John's blog, most likely already opened on Sherlock's computer; they would've talked about the cases Sherlock and John had worked together and the day they'd met at Bart's; they would've shared anecdotes and stories about John, trying to pick the best and most appropriate ones to include in the speech...

But eventually, Greg would have noticed Sherlock's discarded notes and unfinished drafts. His eyes would have undoubtedly landed over such excerpts like "flattered and surprised", "never expected to be anybody's best friend", "the man you have saved", and "many fine qualities of his own", "bravest, kindest, wisest, human being," "the warmth and constancy of your friendship", "I can't congratulate you", ... and Greg would have understood then.

He would have gently put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and look him dead in the eye before asking him what John really meant to him, what he wanted him to know, what he really wanted to say to him.

"That I love him most in the world, that I'd never let him down and I wish we had lifetime ahead to prove that,” Sherlock would have finally said, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to phrase it like that, but he could still try…

Thinking about this because then, Greg's reaction here would make sense.

It would make sense that it was at that point that John decided to do this...

And it would definitely make sense that the people closest to them would just...

#they are meant to be together #you can’t change my mind #john watson #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #johnlock #tsot #the sign of three

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sapphirelass · 4 years ago

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Deal? - Remus LupinxDaughter!Reader

Hi! :)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3)

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

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

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

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

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

I swear, my next story won’t be about Umbridge XD

Word count: ≈ 2300

Warnings: Umbridge, angst, slight swearing

Enjoy!

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

“I do not wish to criticise the ways of the school, however you have been exposed to some rather irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention” the toadlike professor threw a dark glance at a sandy haired student and smirked evilly, “extremely dangerous half breeds”.

The student in question raised her hand angrily, and glared at Professor Umbridge. “Yes?” the teacher smiled sweetly, “miss… Lupin, am I correct?”

“Yes, (Y/N)!” she began, “but that’s besides the point. Look, I know what you’re doing, but Professor Lupin was the best DADA teacher we’ve ever had, and I’d be more than happy to bet everything I own on that being quite a common opinion in this classroom!”

Most of her fellow classmates nodded furiously, and the young girl turned her head towards her professor, who immediately cleared her throat and declared: “Well, I’m afraid simply being a beloved teacher doesn’t really matter, dear. Werewolves are still extremely dangerous creatures. They are beasts that are undeserving of respect and that should not be allowed to be part of our fine wizard community. They are uncontrollable, and highly likely to injure or possibly kill young witches and wizards, including their own children.”

She flashed a cruel, yet pleased, smirk as (Y/N) furiously stood up, despite Hermione desperately trying to force her down.

“You have NO IDEA what you’re talking about!?” she whispered angrily, her nails digging into her palms as her fists clenched. “You have probably never even met one of these so called ‘half breeds’, have you? No, you were most likely just told some bizarre stories containing more lies and made up facts than truths, and decided to put that worthless ‘knowledge’ - if you can even call it that - to use by spreading rumors and destroying the lives of innocent people.”

Umbridge looked frantic, and was about to speak up, but (Y/N) got there first. “I despise people who look down on others. People who claim to be better than everyone else. People like you. You certainly don’t deserve respect!”

She took a deep breath, and was about to continue when Umbridge’s shrill voice forced her to stay quiet. “That’s quite enough! Detention, miss Lupin. The rest of the week, five fifteen, don’t be late”.

***

A few hours later, (Y/N) made her way back to Umbridge’s office. She knew her friends had wanted to talk to her, but she had done her absolute best to avoid them all afternoon. She simply didn’t feel like explaining to them why she had done what she did. She’d gladly do it again though. Her father was the kindest, wisest, most incredible person she had ever met. He had done everything in his power to give her a good childhood, and no one had the right to insult him. She’d defend him to her last breath if that’s what it would come down to.

She knocked on the door carefully, and pushed it open when she heard a shrill, terrifying voice sing a sweet “come in”.

“Oh, miss Lupin, almost late I see!” she said arrogantly. (Y/N) didn’t have time to answer before her teacher continued. “Sit down.”

***

The detentions went on for another four days before Umbridge told her she didn’t have to come back the following evening, but that she better hold her tongue unless she longed for more. (Y/N) tried to keep that in mind, but still lost her cool a few more times before the end of the semester. However, the Christmas holidays were approaching, and though her red, swollen hand caused her to worry slightly, the idea of seeing her dad and godfather caused her enough joy to tip her mood over to “mainly happy”.

She stepped off the train with her friends, and immediately spotted her father on the platform.

“Dad!!” she shouted, and threw her scratched arms around his constantly scarred torso. “Merlin, I’ve missed you so much”. She buried her head in his shoulder, simply enjoying the feeling of love and safety that he somehow instantly gave off.

“Hello, darling!” he said gently, returning the bone-crushing hug. “I missed you too, believe me…”

(Y/N) wanted to stay like that forever, but eventually let go as she intended to at least try to keep her… problems… hidden. She had never really been able to keep secrets from her dad, and therefore didn’t want to do anything he would consider “out of the ordinary”. If she did, he’d figure it out, or persuade her to tell him everything within minutes, and she knew he’d feel guilty if he realized what she had done for him. She understood perfectly well that the scars on her hand were deep enough to be visible for the rest of her life, and that nothing she would say could convince Remus Lupin that it was not his fault. She was left with one option: He could not, under any circumstances, know. Ever.

They carried her trunk together, and walked a few feet behind the rest of the gang.

“So?”, her father inquired, “How are things? You all doing okay?”

“I suppose”, she answered, “Our new DADA teacher is quite a daft prick though.”

“(Y/N/N)!”, he muttered sternly, casually trying to hide a smile, “Are you sure that’s the right word? Sounds rather rough, doesn’t it?”

The witch shrugged. “No, I think it fits rather nicely. It’s almost as if she’s trying her very best to prevent us from learning anything helpful…”

“That’s… well, that doesn’t sound very promising, does it?”

“No, hence the slightly offensive description… But enough about her, how are you? Had any company while I was gone?”

The older wizard smiled, easily noticing the tone of his daughter’s voice switch into a far more joyful, energetic one - One he knew and loved!

“Oh yes, I’ve spent quite a bit of time at headquarters, and Sirius essentially isn’t allowed anywhere else, so we’ve done a lot of catching up. There is, believe it or not, a lot to talk about after 12 years without seeing each other, so it’s been very nice.” He turned to her, smiled even broader and added a quick “But I’ve still missed you.”, before quickening his pace to catch up with the others.

***

Later that night, (Y/N), Remus, Harry and Sirius were sat in the living room of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry and Sirius were playing catch with an old snitch they had found in the house, lazily throwing it back and forth. (Y/N) lay on a sofa, a thick leather bound book tightly clutched in her hands and her head resting on her fathers lap. He was deeply invested in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, and father and daughter were simply enjoying a nice, calm evening.

All of a sudden, Sirius grabbed the snitch, sat up straight and reached out towards his godson.

“Harry, what’s that on your hand?”

The dark haired boy pulled the sleeves of his jumper further down and mumbled a quiet “nothing”.

“Sure, let me see then”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry abo…”

Harry didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Sirius had risen from his seat and forcefully grabbed his left hand. The slightly faded “I must not tell lies” was still readable, and Harry winced as the look on his godfather’s face went from composed to furious in a matter of seconds.

“Who?”

“Sirius, I…”

“WHO?!”

By this time, both Remus and (Y/N) had put their books down, and were carefully observing the “argument”.

“It’s our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge. She’s quite generous when it comes to giving detentions. But mine’s really not that bad now. It barely hurts anymore…”

“That’s totally barbaric!? Moony, we have to…”

“Harry”, Remus interrupted his old friend with a worried look on his face, “What do you mean by ‘quite generous’?”

His heart practically skipped a beat when he felt his daughter shift uncomfortably, however it was Harry who answered.

“‘m quite sure half the Gryffindors have been to her office at least once by now. Even when you’re not really doing anything wrong, she’ll make up a ‘reasonable’ excuse…”

As Harry spoke, (Y/N) had unconsciously been pulling the sleeves of her jumper closer to her fingertips. Remus obviously noticed and made eye contact with Harry, nodding discreetly towards his daughter as if to ask if she too had… well… yeah? Harry closed his eyes, knowing full well how his friend wanted to hide her scars from her dad. It had taken hours of convincing before she had even let him, Ron and Hermione see, and he understood why she didn’t want Lupin to know. He did, however, not like the idea of lying to his former professor, and nodded slightly.

Remus closed his eyes looking simultaneously sad and angered, sat up straight and muttered “(Y/N/N)?”

The young witch took a deep breath and was about to move away from her dad, but he was faster and quickly grabbed her hand. He was very gentle, but she flinched anyways, as her last detention had taken place only a week prior.

“(Y/N/N)”, he repeated, “show me”

“Dad”, she mumbled quietly, “‘tis fine, don’t worry”

“(Y/N)!” His voice sounded far sterner now, “I’m serious. C’mere”

“No, I don’t want…”

“It’s not a question of whether or not you want to, Love”, Sirius explained before his friend could think of a response. “Show your dad.”

“But…”

“(Y/N/N)”, Harry mumbled, “Just… just do it”

“No! I can handle it! Stop making it sound like I’m too weak to do so!”

She felt a tear escape her eye, and stood up to leave the room when Remus waved his wand and locked the door.

Taking yet another deep breath, his daughter turned around, made her way across the room, pulled her left sleeve up and slammed her scarred hand down on the table for the other three to see.

“There! You happy now?!”

A flood of tears were streaming down her face, as her dad, godfather and best friend leant closer and read seven deep-red, awful, heart wrenching words:

***

I must not defend filthy half breeds

***

Remus put his head in his hands and stood up, while Sirius moved closer to his goddaughter and pulled her into a tight hug. Harry joined the embrace and comfortingly rubbed her back.

“why? Why (Y/N/N)?”, her father whispered quietly, his voice barely audible.

“I… I couldn’t…She… sorry…”

The usually calm, collected girl was completely lost for words. Shaking. She had no clue what to say, all she knew was that she had to let her dad know that she was sorry. Sorry for making him feel guilty. Sorry for causing him so much pain. Sorry for not being strong enough.

She walked over to him and noticed heavy, wet tears on his face too. Carefully she wrapped her arms around him, and together they sank down onto the cold floor. They sat there for what felt like hours before Remus finally spoke up, repeating his previous question.

“Why, darling?”

She met his sad gaze and collected her thoughts before quietly whispering “She keeps saying horrible things - pure lies - and she’s enjoying it. She’s throwing insults my way every chance she gets. If I don’t stand up and fight, everyone will think she’s right, and she’s not. Nothing will ever change unless someone works for it, and as soon as that someone backs down, they’ve lost. I’m not having that.”

He looks back at her, his eyes full of pride. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You mean besides being the most phenomenal dad imaginable?”

He chuckled softly, ruffled her (Y/H/L) hair and held his hand out. (Y/N) slowly placed her hand on her father’s and shifted her gaze towards the floor as he examined the neatly written letters. With a worried expression on his face, he grabbed his wand and moved it back and forth over the scars while quietly muttering a few carefully chosen words. The pain immediately became more endurable, and after putting his wand away the older wizard grabbed his daughter’s shoulders gently, and looked at her in a sad, yet determined way.

“(Y/N/N), as honourable as your intentions are, please don’t do this for me. I’m not going to tell you to back down, but if you’re going to keep it up, don’t let it…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting injured because of me. I’m not wo…”

“Yes, you are! Stop saying that! I’ll be a bit more selective, if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare tell me not to fight for you. You are my dad, my only family, and there is not a single person on this planet less deserving of disrespect, insults and hate. Dad, you’re amazing, and I’m not letting her fool people into thinking you’re not.”

After a moment of silence, a quiet, “I still don’t like it…”, escaped his lips.

“I know.” She sighed, “That’s why I originally didn’t plan on telling you.”

(Y/N) was fiddling with her fingers, not quite meeting her fathers warm gaze, when she suddenly sat up and said, “Let’s make a deal? I promise to choose my fights more wisely, and in return, you won’t blame yourself for the consequences of said choices? Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

Her father sighed, but reluctantly answered, “Fine, as long as you promise me one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t hide scars or pain from me ever again, no matter whether it’s physical or mental, okay? You’ll let me know, and let me help, always!”

She held her right hand out, her dad shook it and they shared a smile. This time, a true, pure one that actually reached their identically green eyes.

“Deal!”

~ L

Part 2 Oh, darling...

Masterlist

#remus lupin x daughter reader #hp imagine #remus lupin x daughter #Harry Potter #remus lupin #sirius black #order of the phoenix #imagine #remus lupin imagine #story #hp one shot #HP #harry #harry potter x friend #sirius black x goddaughter #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #harry potter x reader

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linkedhearts · 3 years ago

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Some of my headcannons about the gods and Links. It’s really more of an AU at this point.

•I believe while Fierce Deity is a god of war he fights on the good side.

•I like to think he’s actually Hylias older brother who used to care for her deeply.

•When the Hylians started treating the other species of Hyrule unfairly he chose to step in (the ostracization of the Gerudo, the massacre of the Sheikah).

•Hylia didn’t like that he was fighting against her chosen people even though what they were doing was wrong so she ordered him not to interfere with her world and it’s people. He loved his sister so to avoid conflict he backed off.

•When Hylia split into three each sister gained a part of her personality.

•Farore is the kindest. She just wants people to live in peace. She’s conflicted towards Nayru’s hate towards their brother. (We’ll get to that)

•Din is hotheaded and she doesn’t really think before she acts or speaks, lead mostly by emotion. But she still cares and has kind heart. She respects Deity for his strength, battle strategy, and his dedication to protecting the people of Hyrule.

•Nayru is the worst part of Hylia. She is her stubbornness. Jealousy. She believes that she is the one true goddess and she should get her way. She believes all other beings are beneath her and her chosen people should be allowed to do as they please. She is the leader of the three sisters.

•That being said she knows, even as Hylia, she is not stronger than her brother. She becomes paranoid he will try to overthrow her. She is scared of his power and tries to convince him he should split into three like her that way he does not hold to much power.

•Deity refused.

•Thus begins a bit of a sibling feud. Mostly one-sided. Deity still loves his sister/sisters and chooses not to engage.

•The feelings in Nayru don’t subside but grow stronger and she convinces her sisters they must do something about him.

•Her sisters don’t quite like the idea she has in mind, but she is the wisest of them and therefore she must be making the right decision.

•They trick Deity into a false sense of security. He believed they were putting the past behind them and making amends. But instead, they use his trust against him and when he’s weakest trap him and his power in a mask.

•They seal him away in his temple in the moon and it isn’t until Time’s adventure that he is finally found.

•Deity helps Time through his adventure in Termina, this is how he learns Hylia has been sending children to do they’re dirty work and it infuriates him.

•But he is honest with Time: if you keep using my power, it may alter you. You are only mortal after all.

•But Time was a child at the time. He was scared of the monsters and the war, and chose to continue to use the Deity. It did change him.

•As Time got older he wore the mask less and less now understanding the weight of the power, but after wearing it for so long they still have a connection and can speak to each other.

#Hylia #The Three Goddess #Fierce Deity #Legend of Zelda #LOZ

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tolkien-feels · 3 years ago

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Since you love hobbits - favorite thing about each of the main hobbits?

I know perfectly well what you mean by main hobbits but I'm going to pretend I don't so I can scream about a few other precious hobbits who are really underrated.

Bilbo: Guaranteed to give me serotonin. Has two modes: inspiring and hilarious. Either way if I see his name I know I'm in for a good time. Also I love how generous he is? He saw Smaug and apparently went "Okay so now for the rest of my life I'll hoard nothing" and I respect that. Also only person to do his assigned part in the group work he didn't even wanna join, and that's inherently relatable.

Frodo: Literally the kindest person in Middle-Earth, and he's got some fierce competition. He's just... a profoundly good person doing his best? He's neither perfect nor useless (despite what popular diskhorse would have you believe) but god, he tries so hard to be fair and kind and wise, how can you not love him?

Sam: Has no business being as complex as he is. Does he want a flaming sword to become a war hero or does he want to fill the desolate places on earth with flowers? Who knows, either seems likely. Timid crybaby who'll casually think about making a pile of bodies. I adore the guy.

Merry: "It was a compliment, and so, of course, not true" stole my heart and I'd love him if he did nothing else for the rest of the story. But he turns out to be not just witty but extremely smart and competent in a way I didn't expect a hobbit would be. He's also super loyal and brave, so he's just the most trustworthy character ever written in my humble and correct opinion.

Pippin: I spend the entire book wanting to get him back to the Shire because he's too young to be doing the things he does, but I'm always so proud when he rises to the occasion. An absolute ray of sunshine with an amazing, nuanced character arc. (Plus he's A Took™️, and that's always fun.)

And some other precious Shirefolk, in no particular order

Rosie Cotton: She gets what? Three paragraphs? But she shines in every one of them. Wish she had more than three paragraphs tho. I could write essays on her.

Fatty Bolger: For the sheer character development. I get why people sleep on him but they really shouldn't!

The Gaffer: Wisest hobbit in the Shire. And he refuses to let a nazgul leave a message, which is never not funny.

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magicman111 · 3 years ago

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A Moth to a Flame - Chapter One

Marcy watched the sun slowly set on Newtopia as she’d done many an evening before. The sharp squawks of the gulls rang through the orange sky. She looked quite the forlorn figure standing by the hotel entrance, the gentle evening breeze that ruffled her cloak underscoring her solitude.

Her eyes remained fixated in the same direction her friend had taken off, maybe in some fleeting fool’s hope she’d change her mind and come sprinting back right into her arms.

Not a chance, Marbles.

Anne was long gone by now. Hopefully, she’d caught up with the Plantars’ fwagon before they reached the city gate. Judging by how quickly she booked it, the odds were in her favor. That girl didn’t make varsity back home for nothing.

Marcy only hoped those sweet, simple frogs knew just how lucky they were to have someone like Anne in their lives.

Sighing, her head lowered, she licked her wounds slowly.

Really? That easy, huh?

Could Anne have made it any more obvious that she wanted to get out of there faster than she did? After they’d been apart for so long, and for a family of farmer frogs whom she’d known for what? Months?

No, don’t do that, she pulled herself up. It wasn’t right for her to be mad at the Plantars. This wasn’t their fault. Sprig and Polly were a barrel of fun at the slumber party, providing you disregarded their life-threatening encounter with the jelly-fish ghosts. Hop Pop, meanwhile, reminded her so much of her own grandpa it was uncanny. They were sweet, decent folk who’d taken Anne in and kept her safe all this time. It was just...

Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. How else was she supposed to feel but a little rejected?

However, was she really allowed to complain when holding her tongue was so normalised for her by this point? Marcy was a people pleaser, she understood that much about herself. Anytime Anne and Sasha got into an argument, she was there to keep the peace and everyone happy. So if Anna-Banana wanted to spend more time with her bumpkin frog family than her literal best friend since preschool, who was she to say no?

The story with her folks wasn’t all that different either. When they pressured her to keep up her studies, up to and including PSAT prep despite it being years away, she did as she was told like a good girl to make them proud, and they were. She hoped they were.

Goodness knows what they must be thinking right now—

Nope nope nope! Don’t go there, don’t go there.

She’d already lost too much sleep at night ruminating over the unspeakable pain she’d most surely put them through, it was the last thing she needed right now. She tried to do the logical thing and focus on the positives instead. That usually worked.

Anne wouldn’t be away for too long. They’d be together again as soon as Hop Pop’s contacts returned the Box to Wartwood and then it was off to the first of the three temples to get those gems recharged. Once that side quest was done and dusted, it was a simple matter of finding Sasha and making their way home.

Looking down, she caught herself wringing her hands.

Home.

That sure was the plan.

I mean... what else are we supposed to do?

“Always sad to see someone go, isn’t it?”

Marcy quickly wiped her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to greet the towering form of King Andrias.

Almost instantly, her mood perked up a notch. He was the one person whom she trusted, more than anyone else in all of Amphibia. Ever since she first landed outside the city walls, he took her under his wings and ensured her smooth transition into this brave new world.

Andrias was without doubt one of the kindest and wisest people Marcy could have ever hoped to meet. He was a true listener, and there were very few you could say that about, her parents included. How often had he been there to lend both an understanding ear and sage advice over games of flipwart?

Games she won more often than not, she wasn’t humble enough not to brag.

It was also he who sent Marcy on the daring missions that would eventually make her the hero of Newtopian society she was today. All because he recognised the value of her talents beyond passing an exam or helping her friends with their homework. No other 13-year-old had their own solid gold statue adorning a city bridge.

She owed this king a debt she couldn’t possibly repay, but one he was far too altruistic in nature to demand.

Then, why did he look so... solemn?

“Come along, Marcy. We need to talk.”

Maybe it was his serious tone of voice or those specific choice of words, but they made the hair on the back of Marcy’s neck stand on end. In an almost pavlovian manner, she corrected her posture and she held her chin erect.

Shoving whatever remaining conflicted thoughts aside, she silently followed Andrias back to the castle like a pilot fish tailing its great white. She was so puny next to this tremendous salamander, he could crush her with a single blow of his fist if he so chose. Not that a gentle, goofy giant like Andrias would even dream of doing such a thing.

So when he was dead serious, Marcy knew better to zip it, listen, and do as instructed.

Their quiet journey took them all the way back to the castle and into the royal throne room, a place she was all too familiar with by now. To enter this hallowed hall was a privilege bestowed only to a select few. For Marcy, it was where she had her morning debriefs over bugachinos.

Instead of going straight up to the throne for their pow wow as she anticipated, Andrias guided her down a small passageway to their left.

When they made their way up to the statue of what Marcy recognised as one of his ancestors, one of the great rulers of Amphibia, they came to a stop. Andrias then gazed down at her with the most serious look she’d seen him give anyone.

“Marcy, before we go any further,” he spoke sternly, “I need to be absolutely crystal clear about something. Okay?”

“Y-Yes, Andrias?” Marcy asked, shivering a little. She did not like being pulled out of her comfort zone, not like this.

“You’re about to enter the most secret place in all of Newtopia,” he continued, now down on one knee and his hand hovering over her shoulder, as close as they could be to eye level. “What I’m going to show you... I need you to swear you won’t share with another living soul. Not to Anne, not to Lady Olivia, no one. Do you understand? I can’t emphasise this enough, Marcy.”

“Of course,” she answered earnestly, trying to sound more confident. “You know you can always trust me, Andrias.”

A ghost of that warm, fatherly smile returned to his big blue countenance.

“Trust is a hard thing to come by, kid, and you’ve gone above and beyond to earn mine. It’s just that I’m not exaggerating here when I say this is a big one.”

Marcy simply placed one hand over his huge index, the other over her heart.

She smiled back at him sweetly, genuinely, “I promise.”

“Very well.”

Nodding in approval, Adrias rose. He reached out, pushing a luminous coral torch upwards.

It didn’t take an encyclopedic knowledge of ‘Creatures & Caverns’ for Marcy to predict that the statue was going to shift to the left next, revealing the spiralling staircase leading to Frog knows where. She probably should’ve been more surprised, but come on, it wasn’t exactly the first secret passage she’d come across in this castle lately.

“Follow me,” was all Andrias said, before he pulled off the same coral torch, then proceeded down the stairs without another word. Marcy followed obediently, unable to ignore the unnerving chill that was now travelling up her spine.

Was it... always this cold around here?

Something about all this just felt so unsettling compared to last time. She couldn’t really explain why; she knew she was safe with Andrias and that he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally put her in harm’s way. It was a gut feeling and that sort of thing bugged a rational person like her to no end.

She tried to take her mind off it by hazarding her best guess as to precisely what he was going to show her. Either she did that or started getting all worked up dwelling on Anne again, which she’d rather not at the moment.

Another secret library, perhaps? Probably not, though she wouldn’t be at all disappointed if it was. Maybe there were forbidden texts about the dark arts hidden away down there. Magic users were incredibly rare in Amphibia these days—Marcy had already searched far and wide—so might this be her chance?

Oh, how the very idea of being able to cast actual magic excited her. Being Chief Ranger of the Knight Guard was a great honor and nothing to sneeze at, but to be a powerful sorceress, one who could communicate with spirits, raise the dead, shuffle the orifices on her enemy’s faces—

Okay, rein those snails in, Mar-Mar.

Her musings were interrupted by a strange noise emanating from below. At first she figured it was just her imagination, but the further they continued their descent, the clearer it became.

It sounded an awful lot like beeping. Yes, that was it. A progressively growing cacophony of bleeps, bloops and chirps, the kind she’d expect to hear from a high-tech supercomputer. Something absolutely alien in a world like Amphibia, she and her friends excluded.

Before Marcy could ask Andrias if he heard it too, she was distracted by the emergence of an orange glow chasing away the darkness below. It was a warm, almost heavenly light that conjured the mental image of a crackling fireplace on Christmas morning, protecting you from the snowstorm outside.

The chill in her spine had by now spread to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. Her throat tightened up. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead.

What the... Marcy could not say a word, only think.

There was something down there. Something greater than any library, however inconceivable that sounded. Whether it was good or bad was irrelevant to her at that moment.

It called her.

The duo finally reached the foot of the staircase and entered the sacred sanctum.

Marcy’s jaw dropped.

“Woah.”

There were no shelves of books. No ancient Amphibian artifacts. There weren’t even any walls that she could make out from where she stood. Just an apparently endless sea of darkness encompassing a large round platform from which both the enticing glow and the lowkey din of beeps originated.

Marcy resumed taking Andrias’ lead as they stepped out onto the platform, the clink-clank of their boots confirming her assumption it was made of metal. The whole thing appeared more at home on an alien spaceship than in the dungeons of a castle.

Upon arriving at its centre, Andrias knelt down on both knees and, much to Marcy’s curiosity, removed his crown and set it down on the floor. She took the hint by following suit.

Any lingering fears melted away the more she basked herself in the radiance. It was as if the beams were steadily pouring into her body, clearing up her headspace, reducing any tension in her body. She recalled a favored memory from when she was five-years-old, when she and Anne spent a whole summer afternoon by the beach. How the tides would come in and out without fail, washing away the ruins of their sandcastles, the seaweed, one of Anne’s sandles and the teeny tiny baby seahorse they rescued.

Like a nice blank canvas.

Was this a private place of worship? Not according to her expansive studies of Amphibian anthropology. Or maybe it was a place for Andrias to meditate away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle. Seemed a skosh excessive if that was the case.

“Truly captivating, I know.”

Andrais’ baritone brought Marcy back down to earth. She straightened up and tried to refocus herself. They were down here for an important reason, at least she believed they were.

“One can spend hours down here,” Andrias boomed ominously. “Adrift in their own thoughts and... dreams.” The light cast his face in a rather unnerving shadow as he stared ahead into the void. “But I’m sure you know I haven’t brought you here to show off my retreat from the world.” He took a long, deep breath, like he was mentally steeling himself for what he said next, “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Marcy.”

He produced from his sleeve what appeared at first glance to be two giant pieces of parchment and unfolded them neatly on the metal surface. A closer inspection told Marcy they were in fact pages torn from an exceptionally large book. Judging not only by the size, but the font and format as well, she easily pieced together its origin.

“Are these...?”

“From the book we “found” in the wing?” Andrias chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes. Still kinda surprised you didn’t pick up there were pages missing, but that's not important right now. Please, read.”

The platform provided ideal reading light. Marcy’s ability to read at a 12th Grade level meant she cruised through the text and finished within minutes.

She read it once, then twice. A third and fourth time just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Her bottom began to tremble.

No... Nononono, this... this can’t be right. I-It’s impossible! How in the world can it...?!

No amount of curative rays could unfreeze the blood in her veins. The metaphorical pistons in her brain were firing on full cylinders in a vain attempt to digest this earth-shattering information. For a split second, she thought she was going to pass out.

Desperate, she turned to the stone-faced Andrias to plead for some kind of answer, but she found no words with which to speak. All the personal growth and development that made her Newtopia’s champion had been stripped of her and she was reduced to nothing more than a helpless lost toddler.

A comforting set of giant digits placed themselves under her chin, the same way a father would do for his daughter.

“All this time, I’ve been testing you,” Andrias told her, his voice full of pride. “The games of flipwart, the missions, the “secret library”, even the barbari-ant colony I had lured to the city. I was watching you, studying your every action. With each challenge I issued, you excelled my expectations. You’re an exceptionally talented human being, Marcy, truly worthy of the name ‘Wu’.”

Even if these words were meant to serve as comfort or encouragement, they had only the opposite effect for Marcy. Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes.

She mustered only a pitiful whimper, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he promised, “you will soon enough. He’s so excited to meet you.”

“... He?”

Lifting his mighty hand in the air, he thrusted it into the nothingness facing them. Marcy instinctively followed its direction.

“Marcy Wu,” Andrias’ thundering voice resonated throughout the sanctuary, “allow me to introduce you... to my master.”

No sooner had he finished, the whole world started to tremble at Marcy’s knees, throwing her off her balance. A rumbling, mechanical ROAR struck her ears so loud she had to cover them to protect the drums from rupture. Yet despite this sensory assault, she somehow forced her eyes to stay wide open. She needed to face whatever was coming.

Marcy gazed into the abyss.

And the abyss gazed back with all thirteen of its eyes.

Terror. Pure mounting terror overwhelmed every cell of her being. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. If her mouth stretched any wider, her jaw risked snapping clean off its hinges.

Everything around her faded into black. Andrias, the platform and its glow, the beeping, all vanished into the ether. All now that existed were herself and those colossal demonic eyes plucked from the deepest recesses of her nightmares, their leer burrowing into her very soul.

Marcy wanted to scream until she coughed up her lungs. Moreso, she just wanted to wake up. This was all a dream, it had to be. A lucid dream that had gone on for far too long. She and her friends weren’t in another dimension inhabited by talking frogs, such a notion was a scientific absurdity. She sure as heck wasn’t a ranger in some anthropomorphic newt army.

Any moment now, her wizard kitty alarm would ring and she’d wake up in her soft, cozy bed. Dad would have left for work by now, planting a goodbye kiss on her sleeping forehead as he did every morning since she was little. Mom would be already making her her favorite congee rice and youtiao for breakfast. Then she would begin the process of packing up her room for the big move to Oregon like a good girl.

Yes, she would even happily do that. Anything to bring an end to this ordeal!

Shhhh

Her train of thought screeched to a sudden halt.

Marcy

It’s gonna be okay

And just like that, as if those were the five magic words required, everything was fine again. No more panic, no more existential terror. Her heart rate lowered to a steady, non-life threatening level.

The tide had risen up and washed Marcy’s mind clean.

Like a nice blank canvas.

What quickly followed was an epiphany of sorts.

There was nothing for her to fear. Once she accepted that fact, the warm sensation from before returned greater than ever, engulfing her in what could only be described as a spiritual hug. She could feel the pair of hands, tender as her own mother’s, caressing her face and flicking away her tears. They even ruffled her raven hair in the same playful manner.

Come to me, daughter of Wu

Let me get a good look at you

Marcy obeyed. Getting down on all fours, she crawled across the nonexistent ground—the laws of physics evidently had no place here—until her face and the eyes’ chief pupil were within inches of each other.

Fresh tears, now ones of ecstasy, trickled down her cheeks and evaporated in the pulsating heat.

“You’re beautiful.”

I know

We’ve gotta lot to talk about, Marcy

And I have a feeling...

You and I are gonna become the best of friends

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captainpikeachu · 4 years ago

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Not enough is talked about how often the team take Deke’s smiling facade at face value and simply think that he isn’t taking things seriously or that he doesn’t get the danger or consequences. There is no consideration that Deke keeps smiling and thriving and living because that’s what he had to do to keep himself sane and carry himself through all the trauma that he went through on the Lighthouse, so that’s why he still keeps doing it, because if he stopped, if he’d given up, his own trauma would likely overwhelm him and win.

I feel like the team never truly comprehended the level of trauma that Deke went through growing up. When they were on the Lighthouse, they were busy trying to get themselves home, they never really fully understood the world they landed in and what life was like, and even if they did, they were busy changing things and starting revolutions. We saw how the team couldn’t understood why the people on the Lighthouse lived the way they did, how the team bucked the rules not realizing the lives of the people they placed in danger. Deke tried to warn them multiple times, but our team, once they had an idea, we all know they don’t let it go like a dog with a bone. It was always their way or the highway, nevermind how it affected the people living on the Lighthouse, and they never listened to Deke when he was trying to explain to them. But Deke lived in that world, he grew up in that world, he lost his mother AND his father to that world. Once the team got home, they moved onto the next crisis but no one ever really considered until Daisy mentions it in the first episode of Season 7, just how Deke must have felt being torn away from his home and his timeline and thrust into a completely new place that he had no idea of what it’s like. What is home to them is alien to him. But the team just brushed it aside, or sometimes worse, they purposefully teased him about things he had no idea about.

I know that everyone in the team has their trauma, but at the end of the day, they all grew up in a relatively normal and free world. They didn’t grow up ruled by alien overlords, or enslaved. Deke grew up A SLAVE. That fact keeps getting lost, and is in fact rarely ever acknowledged. Slavers killed his mother, then took away his father. He had no power or ability to stop it, no heroes coming in to save the day or gain powers to stop them. He simply had to accept it and continue on surviving on his own. He didn’t have anyone but himself. So he kept smiling, kept thriving, kept living, because that’s how he got through each day, each week, each year. Yes he enjoys things, yes he smiles, yes he goofs around, because HE WAS NEVER ALLOWED ANY OF THAT BEFORE. Deke grew up in a life where any happiness is temporary and can easily be taken away, so he’s going to cherish things, he’s going to enjoy things to their fullest.

If anything, Deke, more than anyone on the team, understands trauma and the damage it does to people, because he’s the living example of a damaged person from a damaged world, as he once said to Daisy. He smiles and laughs not because he doesn’t take it seriously or that he doesn’t understand the danger. He knows it’s serious, he knows the danger, and that’s why he still smiles and laughs because he knows it can all be taken away in an instant, so he tries to hold onto all the good and joy that he can.

There was this quote I heard a long time ago:

The loneliest people are the kindest The saddest people smile the brightest The most damaged people are the wisest All because they don't want to see others suffer the way they do

And after Episode 7, I think this describes Deke perfectly.

Deke grew up alone, with no one looking after him. So he spreads that kindness to make sure that Mack and little Mack aren’t ever alone, that they always have someone.

Deke carries sadness within him, sadness that often he hides until it boils over, but he smiles the brightest because he doesn’t want that sadness for others, so he hopes his smiles can lift them up too.

Deke admitted that he was a damaged person, yet he wisely gave advice to Daisy back at the end of season 5 about what to do with the team, and he tries in this recent episode again to wisely help Mack find his way.

He knows what it’s like to be lonely, sad, and damaged, and he is trying his damnedest to make sure that others don’t have to suffer the darkness that he’s had to deal with.

#agents of shield #deke shaw

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talesofstyles · 6 years ago

Text

Half A Heart II

Here it is, folks! Thank you for all the love for the first part. Hope you like this one as well!

“What the fuck are you on about, exactly?” Harry snarled. You could tell that he was raging by the vein that popped out in his neck. Harry had come a long way of controlling his temper so it was rare for you to witness him in that state. A little part of you was scared but you didn’t let it show.

“Not once I ever said a word whenever you’re being a dick to me because I know that you’re just overwhelmed with work. You’re stretched too thin. I know that you’re stressed but you just crossed the line by coming after my children.” You went on.

Harry’s voice kept rising in volume. “Yes, I yelled at them but I’ve got my reasons why. I’m not a nutter who goes around yelling for nothing.”

“Then why?” You challenged him.

“Your daughter was being a brat. You’ve failed to teach her to listen to others. She’s got absolutely no patience at all. She always has to have her own way and-”

You cut him off mid-sentence. You just simply couldn’t bear to listen to more. “Oh God is that how you talk about your own child? Listen to yourself Harry, she’s bloody three for fuck’s sake!”

“It doesn’t mean that she can act like a spoiled brat. I know a lot of three year olds who’s got better manners than your dau-”

“Stop saying your daughter as if she wasn’t yours!” You yelled in frustration.

His face crimsoned. “You literally just referred to them as your children,” He let out a huff before he continued. “Besides, you do it all the time!”

“Yeah, but I always say that in a playful manner. It’s usually when I’m joking or I’m teasing you about the kids taking after your habits or something like that but this,” You let out a harsh breath. “This doesn’t sound anything like that.”

“Argh!” Harry groaned in frustration. His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated. You were certain that that was the most cross he had ever been at you, but frankly, you weren’t much better. Your jaw clenched and if look could kill he would’ve been dead for fifteen minutes by then. “I’m never right with you. Being with you is so hard sometimes, it’s not worth it!”

As soon as his lips snapped shut, you left the room without saying another word. You were too cross to even form a sentence. You were boiling with rage that you swore that if you spent another minute in the same room as your husband you were going to poke his eyeballs out. Or whack him in the dick. Whichever more convenient. You didn’t realise your eyes swam with tears until you felt something cold rolling down your cheeks. You wanted nothing more than just to take a shower and cry your eyes out in there or curl up under the blanket and cry on your pillow. But you promised your littles for a little outing to the park and surely you could use the fresh air. You needed to step away from that cactus of a husband of yours for a second to breathe. You needed to calm yourself down because even though those words still hurt nonetheless, you knew for sure that deep down he didn’t mean anything he said.

You knew George and Eleanor had been listening to the whole exchange when they ran to you to give you a hug as soon as they spotted you walking into the kitchen. You looked down and smiled at your children, your fingers running through their hair.

“Don’t cry, mummy. S’alright, you’re alright.” George mumbled on your hip. You let out a wet chuckle realising that that was the exact same thing you usually tell your littles when they cry. It hit you that the way you talk to your children becomes their inner voice, and the fact that Harry just yelled at them made you feel worse because you didn’t want your children to think that was acceptable. But in that moment, knowing how much empathy they’ve got at such a young age made you realise that you did a good job raising your little ones, and if Harry couldn’t see that then it was his sodding loss.

And you were smarter then than when you first got together with Harry, or even than in the beginning of your marriage. You knew it was best to just let things go unsettled for a time sometimes, and you realised that space without resolution wasn’t a bad thing. In that moment, space was taking all three of your littles to Kensington Garden so they could get their wiggles out and enjoy the fresh air before stopping by your favourite Italian restaurant for dinner. You relied on your littles to distract you because they are the sweetest distraction until things at home settle back down, which you know they always do. You knew taking three children aged five and under on your own to a restaurant was going to be tricky but you weren’t ready to come home yet. Besides, after all the tears and shoutings and harsh words that had been said, your children (and you) deserve a nice stone baked pizza.

The deafening silence at the empty house finally knocked some much-needed sense into Harry’s head. He had been craving the silence so that he could work, but when he finally got what he wanted, he didn’t even last more than five minutes on his chair let alone to actually work. He paced around the house like a bloody nutter, it was as if he was lost and he just didn’t know where to go. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. He couldn’t stay still for longer than a minute because he felt like someone just punched him in the gut if he did so. After nearly half an hour of that walking around nonsense, he finally chose the kitchen as his safe place and sat down on the floor, before he broke down and cry.

He recalled everything he said and felt even sicker as the words went around his head. How could he yelled at his little girl just because he couldn’t be arsed to just get up and walk to the kitchen to make her some tea and give her some bloody biscuits? Who was that twat back there in the kitchen who acknowledged the mess in front of him, yet failed to see his children who were trembling with fears? Who was that scunner who talked about his own daughter like she was the most terrible human being on earth? Didn’t he promise her when she was born, to always lift her up? Didn’t he promise her to always speak to her as if she’s the wisest, kindest, most beautiful and magical human on earth, because he knows that what she believes is what she will become? And who was that prick who told his own wife that she wasn’t worth it? Honestly, he was surprised that she just left the room instead of whacked him one.

He knew that crying on the floor wouldn’t help anything, so he got up and began to prepare dinner so you wouldn’t have to. He thought that was the least that he could do. Whilst he was waiting for the lasagna to bake in the oven, he cleaned the entire kitchen and didn’t stop until it was spotless. He was doing his best to make it up to his wife and children the way he knew how.

But it was already half seven and he began to worry. He immediately ran upstairs to check on yours and the kids’ clothes just to make sure and sighed in relief when he found everything was still there. He fished his pocket to grab his phone and just when he was about to call you, he heard the front door being opened and a fit of giggles came from downstairs.

“Hey!” He greeted you and the kids as he walked down the stairs. “Did you guys have fun at the park?”

You couldn’t believe that he was acting like nothing happened. You gave him a dirty look and began unbuttoning the kids’ coats and hung them. On any other day, the kids would run to him and tell him every little detail of their outings because they knew how much he loved to hear it. The little details made him felt like he was there and that he didn’t miss out much, but in that moment none of them seemed to care.

Harry walked towards you and the kids but the kids hid themselves behind your legs instantly. He frowned at the sight of the kids hiding away from him, hurt clouded his features. He crouched down in front of them so he could be on the same level as the kids.

“Daddy’s sorry, yeah?” He spoke softly. “T’was really mean of ’im t’yell like tha’.”

Eleanor hid further behind you, tightening her grip on the hem of your jumper as she whimpered “mummy” and George was fidgeting, playing with his fingers impatiently and didn’t even spare his dad a glance. None of your kids paid any attention to Harry. You knew that must break his heart, but you also knew that you couldn’t blame your children either for reacting that way. Not once had they ever heard their parents raised their voice at them before that day so it was shocking for them.

You looked down at your husband before you cleared your throat to get his attention. “S’almost past their bedtime,” you reminded him. Your tone was flat, not showing any hint of emotion. You were just exhausted and you wanted to bathe your kids and put them to bed as soon as possible so you could go to your own bed too. “C’mon my loves, let’s get you in the bath.”

“I can help with the baby,” he offered, knowing that his nine months old was the only one who wouldn’t scream bloody murder if he tried to come close.

But you shook your head. “No need. You were busy, right? Need t’get things done?” You were just being petty but you couldn’t care less.

So you went upstairs to Eleanor and George’s shared nursery. You put the baby down to wiggle around on the rug for a bit whilst you got the water running in the ensuite for your kids and took out their pyjamas and put them on the bed. You disappeared for a second to the baby’s nursery next door to get her things before you came back to put all three of your children in the tub. You don’t usually bathe them together because good lord your bathroom looks more like a water park when they’re done, but that night was an exception. The day sucked and you just wanted to get into your bed as quickly as possible.

You sat on the wooden little red chair next to the tub, keeping an eye on the kids as they played a bit in the water. The sound of giggles filled the room as the kids made a beard on their faces with the bubbles, even your littlest let out a proper belly laugh at her silly big sister and brother.

Suddenly you heard a footstep coming closer before Harry appeared on the door frame. You glanced at him for a second before turning your head away and looked at your children instead, taking one of the coloured cups that were floating in the tub and pour the water on your baby.

“Hey,” he greeted and the kids looked up to him for a second. “Daddy just put your PJs and blankets in the dryer so they’ll be warm for you.”

George turned his head to his littlest sister, completely ignoring Harry as he raised his hand and ask for a high five, something that the baby had just learned to do a couple weeks prior so it was still exciting for everyone.

Meanwhile, Eleanor tensed. She immediately looked at you and you could see fear crossed her face. She whimpered for you again. She raised her hands, asking for you to pick her up.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.” You rubbed her cheek and tried to calm her down without picking her up because she wasn’t done yet.

But her little body trembled in fear and she yelled “no!” repeatedly as Harry walked closer to the tub. Her yell got louder with each step that Harry took towards her. You could see her breath getting heavier before you fully noticed that she was hyperventilating.

“Harry, get out!” You yelled at your husband when you realised that your three year old wasn’t just throwing a tantrum, she was having a panic attack. Harry ran out of the room like a bat out of hell and you quickly took her out of the tub before wrapping her in the towel and brought her close to your chest. You kept whispering “mummy’s here,” in her ear to help her to calm down, which thankfully she did within minutes, but that was without a doubt still the scariest three minutes of your life.

After Eleanor had calmed down, you drained the water in the tub and quickly rinsed off your other children before herding them back to the nursery. When you were back, you found their PJs and blankets piled on George’s bed. The warm PJs reminded you how much Harry truly loved your babies and that’s the kind of father he is. He’s the kind of father who pays attention to the littlest detail that doesn’t even cross your mind sometimes, like warming up their pyjamas and blanket and triple checking their shoes to make sure that they’re wide enough not to crush their pinky toes. He never forgets to make sure that there are no monsters under the kids’ bed every night after he kisses them goodnight. He always makes sure that the baby’s nighttime soother, the one that glows in the dark, is clean before bedtime. You swore that the amount of dummy your baby has cost you could pay a small country’s debt, so it never really matters to you which one she uses but Harry thought the one that glows in the dark would be easier for her to find it in the middle of the night.

After you put their lotion and put their PJs on, you read them stories on George’s bed and tucked the big kids into their own bed. You cuddled Eleanor extra tight before you kissed her goodnight.

When you exit the nursery, you found Harry sat on the floor outside of their door. His back leaning against the wall, his head hung low. He jumped up when he saw you, you could see clear as day the sadness that clouded his features and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

“How is she?” he asked. You had known the man in front of you for a little over eight years and you could count with your fingers how many times you had seen him cry. He was never the one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so you were quite surprised when you saw that his eyes were glistening with tears.

“She’s alright now.” You mumbled as you walked towards the baby’s nursery with your littlest on your hip.

“Can I put her down?” He murmured before he went on. “Please?”

As much as you wanted to whack him one in that moment, you also knew that you couldn’t say no to that. After what happened he just needed his baby. “Sure, but she needs to nurse first.”

“I’ll wait for you to finish.”

***

Harry furrowed his brows when he entered your bedroom and found it empty, but then sighed in relief when he heard the sound of hairdryer from the ensuite. On any other day he would just waltz in without even thinking twice, but this time he knew he better wait for you to finish.

His heart thumped loudly when the ensuite door was opened and you appeared from behind it. When you walked into the bedroom, it was the first time both of you being in the same room after your fight earlier. The tension was so thick it was suffocating.

Harry hated the silence because he knew it wasn’t the good kind of silence. Both of you quickly learnt early in your relationship that silence isn’t always a bad thing, so you quit trying to always fill the quiet gap and embrace the silence. You loved knowing that you were comfortable enough with each other to just sat together without the pressure of having to entertain one another.

But this silence was nowhere like that. Harry felt like he could cut the tension with a knife. You could feel his eyes glued on your every move, staring at you intensely as you took a clean white nightdress from the wardrobe and slip into it. Your creams were left untouched on your dressing table, you simply couldn’t be arsed to put them on, knowing you would just mess it up anyway with Harry staring at you like that. You knew that he was desperately trying to come up with something to say. You caught him from the corner of your eyes opening his mouth like he was about to say something but he quickly sealed his lips tight again. It was when you took your pillow and began walking towards the door that he finally said something.

“Where are you going?” He rushed to stop you from going towards the door. You were certain that he knew exactly where you were going but you answered him anyway.

“Spare room.” You replied coldly.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re sleeping here tonight, with me. Not once in nearly nine years we’ve ever slept apart under the same roof.”

“I can’t stand you right now.” You could feel your expression hardened and you began to get frustrated at your husband who just wouldn’t let you go. To be honest, you were doing him a favour there, because if you slept with him on the same bed you were almost certain that you would kick him off the bed at some point in the middle of the night.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. Just… please, don’t leave this room. I’m sorry for everything I said.” He pleaded.

You looked down, twisting the wedding band on your finger instead of looking at him because you knew the second you looked into his eyes, you wouldn’t be able to stand your ground. “I can’t do this anymore, Harry.”

Harry felt as if someone just knocked the air out of his lungs. That was the five words that he never thought would hear from you. “W- what?” He choked a response.

You went on. “It really pains me to say this but I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t think I’m worth it.”

“Love, don’t say that.” He begged you to stop. He couldn’t hear more of that coming from you.

“No, don’t love me and I will say whatever the fuck I want to say.” It’s rare for you to curse so when you do, he knows that you’re really upset.

“You know it isn’t true.” He spoke lowly. “I didn’t mean anything I said.”

You seethed. “No, I don’t know. I hope it isn’t but I can’t shake the thought that it might be true. The way you said it, it was just very conv-”

Harry cut you off. “It isn’t true. Please don’t let that idea get into your head. I was a complete twat, I didn’t even know what I said. M’sorry.”

You still refused to look up into his eyes, not only you knew it would melt your heart in a second, but you also did it out of pettiness because you knew how much he hated it when someone didn’t look at him in the eyes when they were talking to him.

“Love, say something.” He pleaded again. The silence was killing him and he couldn’t bear it anymore.

“What d’you want me t’say?” Your tone was flat and it sounded cold but he was glad you still at least spoke to him.

“You’re not leaving me, are you?” You were still upset at him, but you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest at the vulnerability of his tone.

You sighed. “No, but I’m fuming at you right now.”

“I know, I was horrible. M’surprised you haven’t put me in the bin yet.”

Your brows snapped together. “That’s not funny, I’m really pissed.”

“M’sorry.” He apologised again. “Got panicked for a second when you hadn’t come home around seven. I thought you left.”

Knowing that he wouldn’t let you sleep in the guest room, you turned around and walked towards your side of the bed, placing the pillow that you’d been holding back to where it belonged. “Went for dinner.”

“Where did you go?” He asked. You knew that he was trying to make a small conversation, hoping it would distract you and made you forgot that you were pissed at him because most of the time it worked. “I made lasagna. Even put extra cheese because I know the kids love it.”

“Tha’ pizza place in High Street.”

He mused. “Oh, tha’s really nice. They’ve got the best pizza.”

You didn’t reply. You turned your back and closed your eyes whilst he took a pillow and placing it on the hardwood floor. “Night, love.” He mumbled before he closed his eyes. He was dying to give you a proper goodnight kiss but he knew you wouldn’t like that. Not in that moment at least.

***

“Ow, ow ow ow. Ow…. ow ow,”

The sound of your husband groaning in pain woke you up from your deep slumber. You tried to close your eyes again to go back to sleep but it didn’t work, so you sat up and looked down at him. “What’s wrong with you?” You sounded a little annoyed.

“I can’t get up. M’back hurts.”

You tried not to laugh at the sight of him wiggling around the hardwood floor and moaning in pain with his every move. “Come up here and get tha’,” you tilted your head towards his bedside table, referring to the bottle of almond oil in the drawer that you usually use for massage.

The thought of getting a back rub was enough to motivate him to hold onto the bed and finally pulled himself up. He opened the drawer and blindly looked for the bottle and took it out and put it on the bed when he found it.

“No, not the lube you prat!” You scolded him. “The oil!”

“Sorry sorry! Didn’t see it. It hurts.” He moaned again as he looked for the right bottle.

You mumbled, trying to bit your lips to keep yourself from laughing. “Such a baby.”

When he finally found the right bottle, he got up and sat on his side of the bed before laying down on his stomach. “If this doesn’t prove my love for you I don’t know what will.”

“Shut up, m’still ticked at you.” You deadpanned.

He let out a moan, a good moan this time, but not that kind of moan when you began rubbing his back. “I was going mad when you left with the kids yesterday.” He started.

You furrowed your brows. “We left for three hours.”

“Felt like there was half an arrow in my chest.” He went on.

You tried to stifle your chuckle. “Did you just quote your own song?”

“Oh shoot, you still remember. But s’true.” He replied.

“Course I remember,”

“Tha’ was your jam, wasn’t it? 15 year old you must be so cute singing around to tha’.” He was bashful and you loved the shift in the mood.

“Ha. You wish.” He was right but there was no way you would admit that. Absolutely not.

“Oh no, I know your favourite. T’was the other one, hold on-” he hissed as he took a second to think. “Ah, Through The Dark! Oh I will carry you over, fire and water for your love.” He began singing.

“Yeah, go on, keep taking the piss. Tha’ really helps me to dissolve my anger towards you.”

He ignored your comment and kept on singing. “And I will hold you closer hope your heart is strong enough.”

You tried to control the 15 year old girl inside of you who wanted nothing more than just to scream because who would’ve known that even after three babies later with one of the singers, the song still had that effect on you.

He reached for your arm and pulled it down. You squealed as you fell on your stomach next to him.

“I love you,” he blinked. “M’completely besotted. Absolutely enamoured. Hopelessly in love wi’ you. Best thing tha’ ever ‘appened t’me, yeh are. T’is Harry talking, your husband, so y’av to believe me. The pillock yesterday wasn’t Harry.”

“Oh, was tha’ Henry?” You joked.

“Thought Henry was m’cock’s name?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re right. The bloke yesterday was a cock.” You cackled and he continued. “M’sorry for what I said about Eleanor too. I’m disgusted at myself. Can’t believe I said those words about m’own baby girl. I don’t deserve her, I’m a shit father.”

“You were a shit father yesterday, but you’re a great father any other day, H. Always have been.” You affirmed him.

“You’re just saying that cause y’av to.”

You shook your head. “No I don’t. If you’re a shit father rest assured I’ll tell you that on your face. But you’re not, I’m telling you the truth. Just please don’t ever take it out on the kids and I again if you’re stressed or frustrated with work.”

“I promise. I’m sorry.” He apologised again.

“You need to apologise to them.” You reminded him and he nodded.

“I will. Absolutely. I’ll try to make it up to them today.”

***

George and Eleanor ignored Harry all morning. Thankfully Eleanor was better, she didn’t want to talk to Harry but at least she didn’t freak out whenever he was close. Harry tried to get on their good side by offering toast and nutella for breakfast, which rarely happens in your house because you don’t normally allow chocolate for breakfast. They munched on their toast happily but they didn’t say a word to Harry except a simple “thank you” when he handed them their plates. You chuckled because they might be pissed but they were still polite.

After breakfast, you put on some Sunday morning cartoon in the living room for the kids. You were sat on the sofa, sandwiched between your two babies whilst Harry sat on the armchair with your littlest on his lap playing with his wedding band because George and Eleanor didn’t let him sit on the sofa.

“My loves, do you wanna make some choquettes for snack later?” Harry asked the kids when Fireman Sam finished on the telly. George shook his head but Eleanor completely ignored him.

“Daddy’s asking you a question, poppet.” You turned to your little girl. “S’not very nice to ignore someone when they’re talking to you, is it?”

She mumbled. “No, thank you.”

“Alright.” Harry sighed. “I’ll make them for you, I know how much you like it.”

Harry stood up and placed the baby on your lap before he went to the kitchen to make the kids’ favourite pastry. Cooking had never been his forte but you knew your husband could bake even though he only worked as a cashier in a bakery years ago.

The kids still pretty much ignored him during lunch and you could tell that Harry was getting a little frustrated. He tried everything but the kids hadn’t warmed up to him just yet. They’d been glued to you nearly all day so you knew you had to leave for at least an hour so they could warm up to Harry. You took the opportunity to leave when they were napping so they, especially Eleanor, wouldn’t throw a fit when you left. You needed to go shopping anyway because now that it was getting warmer, you needed to get some new spring clothes for the kids and your littlest baby had outgrown most of her onesies and bodysuits.

Again, Eleanor was the first to wake up from her nap and she immediately went looking for you but when she went down, she only saw Harry in the living room with his laptop on his lap. Harry smiled at her as soon as he saw her.

“Ello, poppet. Did yeh av a nice nap?” He greeted her. The little girl hesitated a bit before she walked into the living room, which took Harry by surprise because he was almost sure that she would just run back upstairs.

The three year old nodded before climbing up onto the sofa and plopped herself down next to her daddy. Harry wrapped his arm around her instantly and brought her to his lap after he put his laptop away. “Daddy’s really sorry, poppet. I didn’t mean to scare you yesterday. I was very mean, wasn’t I?”

She nodded again. “You weren’t nice, daddy. You need a time out.”

“A time out?” Harry chuckled.

“Uh uh.” She insisted. “Y’need to sit on the stairs.”

The last step on the stairs had always been the designated spot for a time out for the kids whenever they’re being cheeky in your home. If they don’t listen to you or Harry or if they fight too much they’d have to sit there for three minutes. Harry never knew that would come to bit him in the arse.

“Alrigh’,” Harry agreed. “But will yeh forgive me when I’m done?”

She nodded vigorously. “Of course! But three minutes, daddy.” She held up three of her fingers.

So Harry sat there on the last step of the stairs whilst Eleanor stood in front of him, holding his phone as she waited for the timer to went off. Before Harry finished his time out, George appeared from the top of the stairs.

“George! M’puttin’ daddy on time out!” Eleanor squealed excitedly, making Harry chuckled. “No, don’t laugh, daddy! S’not funny. Y’need to think about what you did.”

Harry bit on his lips trying not to laugh at his little girl’s stern face. She might be a carbon copy of himself but goodness she did sound like you. “M’sorry, m’sorry.”

“We don’t yell, daddy. S’not nice.” George chimed in.

“I know. M’really sorry.” Harry apologised again and the timer went off.

“Time’s up!” Eleanor shrieked. “Y’can get up now, daddy!”

“Can I get a hug?” Harry opened his arms wide for his babies.

“That depends, daddy. Can I get some choquettes?” George gave him a cheeky smile and Harry nodded.

“Wha’ a cheeky lad!” Harry squeezed him tight before pulling Eleanor closer to his chest to wrap her into a hug as well.

***

Eleanor and George were glued to Harry for the rest of the day, even after you and the baby got home. They were his sous-chef when he prepared dinner and insisted for Harry to bathe them. After you put your littlest to bed, you peeked inside Eleanor and George’s nursery and saw Harry sandwiched between his babies on George’s big boy bed. You could see the pile of books on the floor and you were certain he read them not less than ten books. You could feel your eyes welled up as you listened to the things Harry was telling your babies.

“Daddy loves you so much, both of you. I’m so grateful that you are my son and that you are my daughter. You both make me and mummy SO happy. You’re a good boy and you’re a good girl and you’re the best big siblings for your baby sister. You two are smart and funny and kind and I wouldn’t want anyone else to replace you. You make mummy and I very proud every day.”

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P.S. Tumblr didn’t let me tag a lot of blogs, I’ve got no idea why so sorry if I didn’t tag you!

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

Text

Trust -- part thirty-eight

It’s Best Man Speech time! Also, I’m a liar. This chapter is not the last. The next one is. Oopsies! ;)

“Pray silence for the best man.”

You squeeze Sherlock’s hand as he stands to his feet, buttoning his jacket and smoothing it down. He really is nervous.

But to be fair, you’re a little nervous, too. He wouldn’t let you hear the speech—He wouldn’t let anyone hear it, actually. This is brand new to everyone. And while that should be exciting, since it’s Sherlock, it’s a little nerve-wracking.

John is beaming, though, grinning from ear to ear – possibly a little buzzed. But he does really love Sherlock, and you know that, even when he doesn’t want to admit it. You know those two have a bond like no other. The Baker Street boys, as Mary calls them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. And, um…others.”

Sherlock’s stuttering continues, prompting you reach up and thread your fingers through his. He glances down, smiling a little.

“Telegrams,” you hear your brother mutter, and then Sherlock is back.

“Right, um…” Sherlock picks up the cards. “First things first, telegrams. Well, they’re not actually telegrams, we just call them telegrams, I don’t know why. Wedding tradition. Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

“Sherlock,” you whisper warningly.

He settles again, nodding. “To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck, and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

Ah, Mike. You chuckle.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big…big squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted.” Sherlock sighs. “Mary, lots of love—Oh.”

John looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“…poppet.”

Mary snickers, leaning forward to catch you stifling your own laughter.

“Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could’ve seen this.”

You lean forward at that, giving Mary a look of sympathy as John takes her hand in his, comfortingly.

Sherlock carries on, not missing a beat. “Special day…Very special day…Love…Love…Love…Love…Love. Bit of a theme, you get the general gist. People are basically fond.”

Here we go, you think, wanting to smack Sherlock in the arm, but you decide against it.

“John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first, I didn’t realize he was asking me. When finally, I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I had never expected this request, and that I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very closed to being moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.”

The room erupts with laughter, especially coming from John. You laughed loudly, too, because that definitely wasn’t the story you remembered John telling you.

Sherlock begins rummaging in his coat for some cards. “So…done that. Done that. Done that bit. Done that bit.”

He takes a deep breath. And continues.

“I’m afraid John that I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Odd start. Maybe you should’ve forced him to practice the speech in front of you.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species.”

The room stills. You stare down at your hands, a little bit worried for the rest of this, and still regretting the fact that you never took a peek at his speech before today.

“But anyway, let’s talk about John.”

“Please,” you hear John clear his throat, shifting around in his seat.

“If I burden myself with a little helpmate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes in truth from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides.”

You tilt your head. That was an insult, wasn’t it?

“It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Is he…serious? He absolutely has to be kidding.

“And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity to the family idiot.”

The room rustles again, and you clasp your hands together, willing yourself to keep listening.

“The point I’m trying to make it that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous,” Sherlock pauses to look down at you, nudging your arm so you’ll look at him. “I am unaware of the beautiful.” He smiles only softly, then turning to Mary and John. “And uncomprehending in the face of the happy.”

You smile sadly.

“So, if I didn’t understand that I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. And certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.

“John, I am a ridiculous man. Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship and the love from the woman sat to my left.”

Your breath hitches. You weren’t expecting him to mention you at all.

“But as I am, apparently, your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.” Sherlock pauses, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss. So sorry again about that last one.”

You chuckle softly. He’ll forever be apologizing for the time he was ‘dead.’

“So know this. Today, you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man and woman you have no doubt saved. In short, the three people who love you move in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary and Y/N as well when I say we will never let you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You reach up and wipe a stray tear away from your cheek, chuckling a little when Sherlock doesn’t seem to notice he’s gotten the rest of the reception hall crying as well.

“Ah, yes. Now on to some funny stories about John…” Sherlock frowns. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John? Y/N?”

“Love…” You shake your head, smiling despite your own watery eyes.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” John mutters, pushing his chair back. “Come here.”

The room applauds while the two of them hug, Sherlock still not understanding anything at all as he tries to continue over the noise. John pats his shoulder and says something to make him stop, but you don’t hear.

After John is settled back in his chair, Sherlock continues.

“So, onto some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would…be better.” Everyone laughs. “On we go. So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog. The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a big, but then, you know, he’s a romantic.

“We’ve tackled some strange cases. The Hollow Client. The Poisoned Giant. We’ve had some frustrating cases. Touching cases,” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “And of course, I have to mention, The Elephant in the Room. But we want something very particular for this special day. The Bloody Guardsman.”

Ah, you remember. The unsolved one. From wedding planning weeks ago.

“Private Steven Bainbridge had written to us with a concern about someone possibly stalking him. A bloke, no less. Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach but there was no weapon. Where did it go?

“Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: A murderer who can walk through walls. A weapon that can vanish. But in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

Good lord. You definitely should’ve looked at his speech.

“Come on, come on. There is actually an element of Q&A to all of this.” Sherlock clears his throat. “Scotland Yard, have you got a theory?”

“Don’t pick on Greg,” you mutter.

“Yeah, you. You’re a detective, broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

Lestrade crosses his arms over his chest, deciding to entertain Sherlock. “Er, um…If the uh, if the blade was propelled through the um…grating in the air vent… Maybe a ballista or a catapult, uh, somebody tiny could crawl in there. So yeah, we’re looking for a dwarf.”

“Brilliant.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You shake your head.

“Hello, who was that? Tom.”

Sure enough, Tom stands from his chair, Molly sending a frightened look your way. This is going to end badly, it always does when Sherlock gets in one of these moods.

“Got a theory?”

“He attempted suicide with a blade made of compacted blood and bone. Broke after piercing his abdomen, like a meat…dagger.”

“A meat dagger?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Tom sits back down, and Sherlock continues, clearly annoyed. “There was one feature and only one feature of interest in the whole of this baffling case and quite frankly, it was the usual. John Watson. Who while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.

“There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he actually knows how to do that. Except wedding planning and serviettes, he’s rubbish at that.”

Everyone chuckles at the slight joke.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder or attempted murder I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter. The most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware.

“However, I’m not just here to praise John, I’m also here to embarrass him so let’s move onto some—”

“No, wait. So how was it done?” Greg interrupts.

“How was what done?”

“The stabbing.”

“He never solved it,” you chime.

“Yes,” Sherlock nods. “I never solved that one. It can happen sometimes. It’s very…very disappointing. Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

Oh, dear Lord.

This night was the night you, Mary, and Molly got together and had dinner before having essentially a big sleepover at John and Mary’s. Because John was out with Sherlock all night, apparently doing something along the lines of having a beer at every place they’ve solved a murder.

It’s okay, you found the idea weird, too. But Molly said she calculated everything correctly, so they should be fine. Even if it was odd that Sherlock asked her to calculate anything in the first place.

But anyway, while the three of you were drinking wine and sharing idiot stories of your significant others, John and Sherlock were getting absolutely pissed.

“‘Course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

Apparently, they were only out for two hours before returning to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson said she nearly had a heart attack when she walked out with her trash to find them snoozing on the stairs, drunkenly mumbling to each other.

And then they had a client. Of all things, they had a client that night.

“The Mayfly Man.”

They also got arrested, which Lestrade wasted no time calling you about and starting off with saying, “You’re not gonna believe this shit.” You thought it was going to be much worse than what it was, but at least Lestrade was able to get them bailed out with no problem. And thankfully, it never turned up in the papers.

You still remember after that when Sherlock continued investigating. You were sat in his chair when he had probably six or seven laptops open, talking to all of these women who had encountered the Mayfly Man. John was here as well, helping with the case on his day off.

Apparently, Sherlock had asked a question to the women and immediately every single one of them signed off. You had warned him to let you help, but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to come off as too knowing.

“Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?” Sherlock slams the laptop closed, straightening up and buttoning his blazer.

John snorts. “You’re missing the obvious, mate.”

“Am I?”

“You are,” you nod. “He’s a man.”

Sherlock still doesn’t get it. “So? I’m a man.”

“You’re a different breed,” you chuckle.

“But why would he change his identity?” Sherlock asks the rhetorical question to the wedding guests, not noticing their lack of interest. “He was married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in watching telly or going to barbeques with the awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn’t stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field. He was—” Sherlock stops, suddenly surveying the room and seeing their tired faces. He turns to you and you shake your head, motioning for him to stop the story.

He nods. “On second thoughts, maybe I probably should’ve told you about The Elephant in the Room.

“However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that’s what made me special. Quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: Should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it will take John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that, I should know. He’s saved mine so many times and in so many ways.

“This blog,” Sherlock gestures with his phone, “is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures. Of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there’s a new story. A bigger adventure.”

You watch with a smile as Sherlock glances to the happy couple, and then you watch in surprise as he looks to you.

“Ladies and gentlemen pray charge your glasses and be upstanding.” You stand with your glass in hand. “Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is—”

Sherlock freezes.

His glass falls from his hands, but no matter about that. You know that look in his eyes. He’s gone. Albeit for a split second, but he’s gone.

It’s almost like he’s gone to his mind palace.

The glass shatters as it hits the floor, the noise startling Sherlock back into the real world. He blinks, looking down at the mess he made and tries to brush past it.

“Oh, sorry, I—” He shakes his head, clearing his throat.

“Another glass, sir?”

“Thank you, yes. Thank you. Now, where were we?”

“Sherlock…” You whisper.

He looks to you briefly before continuing on. “Ah, yes, raising glasses and standing up. Very good, thank you… And down again.”

You sit down quickly, casting a worried glance in John and Mary’s direction. The rest of the guests follow, confusion coating their faces.

“Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech. Get off early, leave them laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind, but for now…”

“Sherlock!” You hiss as he jumps over the table.

“Part two!” He walks down the middle. “Part two is more action based, I’m gonna walk around, shake things up a bit.

“Who’d go to a wedding? That’s the question? Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding…? Well, everyone!” Sherlock turns around, clapping his hands. “Weddings are great. Love a wedding.”

Mary leans forward to look at you. “What’s he doing?”

“Something’s wrong,” you whisper back. “I don’t know what.”

“And John’s great, too,” Sherlock points back to the front. “I haven’t said that enough, barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his jumpers. And he can cook, does a thing – A thing with peas, once. Might not be peas, might not be him, but he’s got a great singing voice – Or somebody does…

“Too many, too many, too many, too many!” Sherlock screams. He stops himself, turning back around. “Sorry, too many jokes about John. Now, uh… Where was I? Ah, yes. Speech! Speech. Let’s talk about…murder.”

“Christ, Sherlock,” you smack your forehead.

“Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they’re…quite similar procedures when you think about it, the participants tend to know each other and it’s over when one of them’s dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though.”

You watch as Sherlock pulls out his phone and begins texting behind his back – something you hate when he does, but now it’s only worrying you further.

“Jeff, the gents.” Sherlock looks at Lestrade.

“It’s Greg!”

“The loos, please.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s your turn?” Sherlock nods toward the door as Lestrade’s phone beeps. So, Sherlock was texting him. You wish he’d text you to let you know what the hell is going on right now.

Lestrade looks at his phone and his eyes widen. “Yeah, actually, now that you mention it.” And he disappears through the doors.

“Sherlock,” John calls out. “Any chance of an end date to this speech? We’ve gotta cut the cake.”

“Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once – Vatican Cameos.”

Your eyes widen. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“What did he just say?”

You scoot over to Sherlock’s seat next to John’ careful of the broken glass. “Vatican Cameos,” you murmur. “It means someone’s going to die.”

“Not you, not you, you,” Sherlock points to John. “It’s always you. John Watson, you keep me right.”

John stands to meet Sherlock. “What do I do?”

“You’ve already done it,” Sherlock whispers, glancing to you. “Don’t solve the murder. Save the life.

“Sorry,” Sherlock inhales sharply, turning back around. “Off-piste a bit, back now, phew! Let’s play a game. Let’s play murder. Imagine someone’s going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?”

“I think you’re a popular choice at the moment, dear,” you hear Mrs. Hudson say, bringing a small smile to your face.

“If someone could move Mrs. Hudson’s glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?”

Your eyes widen. They lock with Sherlock’s. There’s a brief moment where you wonder if it’s you. After all, this morning was the only time you traveled without Sherlock in a long time. But it doesn’t make sense, you don’t fit. He’s here with you now, and no one was close to you when he wasn’t.

Sherlock shakes his head slightly. You’re safe.

“Most people you can kill just any old place,” he continues. “As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now, John, I’d poison. Sloppy eater, dead easy. Y/N is a different story. To poison her would ultimately insure my own death sentence. Lestrade’s so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation. I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house, I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him…if the whim arose.

“So, once again, who could you only kill here?”

Sherlock’s eyes lock with yours again and you mouth, “Isolated.”

“Clearly, it’s a rare opportunity, so it’s someone who doesn’t get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public difficult, killing them in private isn’t an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat.”

When Sherlock looks to Major James Sholto, you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed. You should’ve known from the minute your brain told you it had to be someone who is truly isolated. Major Sholto is the only one true fit to that statement.

“Or, a recluse,” Sherlock speaks, now obviously filling the time as he writes something on a card. “Small, house hold staff. High turnover for additional security. Probably have all signed confidentiality agreements.

“There is another question that remains, however, a rather big one. How would you do it? How do you kill someone in public? There has to be a way. This has been planned.”

Your eyes widen. “The Bloody Guardsman,” you blurt. “The killer that can walk through walls. The weapon that vanishes.”

Sherlock stares off when he hears you, Major Sholto standing and leaving in the meantime. Sherlock nods to you. “Not just planned, planned and rehearsed.”

He slides back up to the front, grabbing a random glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude. To the bride and groom!”

Everyone stands for the toast, but Sherlock whirls around, leaning down to the table. “Major Sholto’s going to be murdered. I don’t know how or by whom but it’s going to happen.” Sherlock abruptly kisses you on the forehead before turning and moving his way through the crowd. “Excuse me, coming through, consulting.”

John gives Mary a kiss before standing, looking to the both of you and saying, “Stay here.”

As soon as he gets around the table, though, you and Mary look at each other and nod. You stand, linking arms and pushing your way through the crowd, careful not to trip on your dresses as you search for where Sherlock and John went.

You round the corner just as your brother is laying into Sherlock for not remembering Major Sholto’s room number.

You roll your eyes and say, “207,” as you and Mary push between them.

The four of you bound up the stairs and to the left, Major Sholto’s door right at the end of the hall. Sherlock immediately begins banging on the door, trying the handle.

“Major Sholto!” Sherlock yells, hitting the door with an open hand.

The Major speaks from behind the door. “If someone’s about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready.”

“Major,” John steps forward. “Let us in. Or I’ll kick this bloody door down.”

“I really wouldn’t,” he calls out. “I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.”

“You’re not safe in there. Whoever’s after you, we know that a locked room doesn’t stop him.”

“Yes, I know. The invisible man with the invisible knife.”

“I don’t know how he does it, so I can’t stop him and that means he’ll do it again.”

“Solve it, then.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case, on you go. Tell me how he did it, and I’ll open the door.”

Sherlock shakes his head, stepping away.

“Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in, you’re in danger!” John’s voice cracks on a matter of urgency, and the knot is your stomach is twisting dangerously tight.

“So are you, so long as you’re here,” the Major counters. “Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I really do not approve of collateral damage.”

“Solve it,” Mary blurts.

“Sorry?”

“Solve it and he’ll open the door, like he said.”

“I couldn’t solve it before, how can I solve it now?”

“Because it matters now!” Mary cries.

“What are you talking about? What’s she talking about? Get your wife under control.”

“She’s right,” John replies, deadly serious.

“Oh, you’ve changed!”

You smack Sherlock’s arm harshly, finally succumbing to the urge you’ve had all evening. “Shut up!” Sherlock looks back at you, dejected and holding his shoulder where you hit it. “She’s right. You are not a puzzle solver, you idiot, you never were. You’re a goddamned drama queen. Now, there is a man in there about to die, the game is fucking on, solve it.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen, though you can’t tell if it’s in shock or realization, but then he turns to the door, and you hear he’s solved it. “Major Sholto, no one’s coming to kill you. I’m afraid you’ve already been killed several hours ago.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t take off your belt.”

“The belt,” you mutter. “Of course.”

“Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him. But it was through his belt – tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn’t even feel it.”

“The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tight. And when you took it off…” John trails away.

“Exactly. Delayed action stabbing.”

“Neat,” you mutter, then realizing what you’ve said, you grimace. “Sorry.”

“You’re supposed to open the door, Major, he solved the case.”

Silence.

“Whatever you’re doing in there James, stop it, right now, I will kick this door down!” John yells.

“You and I are very similar Mr. Holmes,” the Major continues. “There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?”

“There is.”

“And one should embrace it when it comes. Like a soldier.”

“Of course, but not at John’s wedding!” Sherlock screams. “We wouldn’t do that, would we, you and me? We would never do that to John Watson.”

Sherlock steps away from the door, and right as John is getting ready to ram his foot through the door, it opens.

John and Mary disappear into the room, leaving you and Sherlock in the hallway. He suddenly picks you up by your waist and spins you around, setting you down to press a firm kiss to your lips.

“You’re a drama queen, too,” he pouts.

“Shut up,” you shake your head, pulling him back into you for another kiss.

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock fanfic #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #the sign of three #best man speech #female!reader #watson!reader #half-sibling!reader #soft #john watson #mary watson #wedding day

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joysmercer · 5 years ago

Text

Hogwarts Houses: Brooklyn Nine-Nine Edition

Or, what would happen if someone decided to put me in charge of the Sorting of our favorite detective squad.

JAKE PERALTA: GRYFFINDOR

While Jake’s greatest strength is his problem-solving skills, he yearns for a chance to prove himself a hero. He’s never afraid to stand up for what is right but has a tendency to be a little reckless when he’s trying to help others. Although he’s not very ambitious in the traditional sense – he hasn’t shown any wish to rise up the ranks of the NYPD, for example – he does feel the need to prove himself the best detective with every case, and this sometimes puts him at odds with the others. At the same time, he’s always quick to apologize when he realizes he’s done something wrong, and it’s clear that he only acts with the best of intentions.

CHARLES BOYLE: HUFFLEPUFF

Possibly the most loyal member of the squad, Charles will do anything to help others, even if it means sacrificing some of his dignity. He’s not the most gifted detective, but he makes up for it with sheer hard work. He always thinks the best of people, even when all signs point otherwise, and is genuinely one of the kindest detectives in the precinct.

TERRY JEFFORDS: HUFFLEPUFF

As a lieutenant, Terry is in a higher position of power than most of the other members of the squad, but leadership is not something that comes easily to him – no, he has worked incredibly hard to get to where he is today, and is always grateful for having the support of his friends and family as he made that journey. He’s incredibly thorough and always tries to see both sides of any issue before passing any judgment. Despite being a cop, Terry has a clear tendency to protect instead of fight. While he may not exude confidence, he conducts a huge amount of respect from his detectives because he always treats them with the respect they deserve.

RAYMOND HOLT: SLYTHERIN

Captain Holt has also worked incredibly hard to get to where he is, from which he has gained a lot of (well-earned) pride for his accomplishments as a highly-decorated black and openly-gay police officer. Holt’s greatest asset in the field is his intuition and intellect, and he knows it. He’s also incredibly ambitious, having aims as high as Police Commissioner from childhood. Because of what he went through in his early days as a cop, Holt has a tendency to overreact (and rightfully so) when his or any of his detective’s reputation is being questioned, and this loyalty makes him an incredibly strong ally to have.

GINA LINETTI: SLYTHERIN

Gina is very confident, self-assured, and has proven herself unafraid of, well, almost anything. In the few instances where she has been scared, she still refuses to show it, leaving it up to her friends to deduce what she is really feeling. Sometimes, her overconfidence gets in the way of her relationships with others, although she does her best to make it up to the other person when she’s made aware of the fact. Working as a secretary in a precinct full of cops, Gina’s characteristic sarcasm and wit ensure that she’s considered equal to the others, despite her lack of a badge or gun. When the time came for her to move on to other things in her career, she needed a push from others in order to take that step, but it wasn’t out of fear – no, it was out of the loyalty she felt to her friends and coworkers, who believed in her enough to encourage her unique talents in the first place.

ROSA DIAZ: RAVENCLAW

One of Rosa’s major character traits (and the reason people are terrified of her) is that she doesn’t tolerate (what she considers to be) stupidity very well; in fact, she’s only ever shown to lose her temper with someone else if they made a careless mistake. Along those same lines, she tends to get irritated whenever she can’t complete a task on her own or if something doesn’t work the way she wants it to, and she often comes up with elaborate workarounds to problems at hand. In addition, the fact that she’s gone to school for a variety of professions (business, medicine, etc) out of sheer interest in learning something new suggests that although she’s a natural cop with respect to the physical prowess/courage/bravery required for the job, she’s actually drawn to police work because of the problem-solving skills and intelligence necessary to do it well; it is this trait that makes her one of the best detectives in the precinct.

AMY SANTIAGO: GRYFFINDOR

Amy is extremely difficult to place, but that’s not for lack of trying.

We could talk about her bravery, confidence, and excellent leadership skills, and how her glaring similarities to Hermione and Lily Evans make Gryffindor a good choice. Or perhaps how she has traits that would place her neatly in Hufflepuff – she’s incredibly thorough, methodical, organized, and efficient with everything, and what she lacks in natural talent she more than makes up with the amount of work she puts into and the dedication that she has for her job. She dislikes making mistakes; however, it’s not because she hates being wrong, but because she doesn’t want to disappoint those counting on her.

We could also go the obvious route and place Amy in Ravenclaw – her high academic achievement, intelligence, and quick-thinking are some of her best assets. She enjoys crosswords and math problems and relishes any chance to exercise her brain. Another easy choice would be to place her in Slytherin – Amy is extremely confident in herself and her abilities, and her ambition is one of the major driving forces behind why she works as hard as she does: she’s very clear in what she wants to achieve and how she wants to get there.

But we also cannot ignore the fact that she simply isn’t daring or impulsive, that her ambition and intense competitive streak sometimes make her come across as unkind or unempathetic, that she enjoys the mundaneness of paperwork and finds as much beauty in bureaucracy as she does in brain-teasers, that for all her hopes and dreams, she rarely does anything with the sole intent of maintaining her reputation.

So it all boils down to what she values, not what she is. After all, if we simply went by character traits, Hermione could be a Ravenclaw, Harry a Slytherin, and Ron a Hufflepuff; there would be a good case for Jake to be in Hufflepuff and Rosa in Slytherin. It’s not about that, though – it’s about what drives people to do what they do, how they react in times of crisis, and the things that they look for in people they trust.

And the fact is this: yes, she hates making mistakes, she wants a stellar resume, and she sucks-up to her superiors so she’ll get good recommendations when she needs them, but when she has to make a split-second decision between risking her career to help someone else and trying to solve the problem methodically and without getting into trouble, she’ll almost always choose the former, regardless of whether or not it’s the wisest choice. And for that reason, she would be a Gryffindor.

HITCHCOCK AND SCULLY: SLYTHERIN

Despite their reputation as being lazy and unambitious, Hitchcock and Scully are always willing to do anything they are asked to, whether it’s choosing the softest chairs for a wedding or reverse-engineering incomprehensible texts, if it means that they or the squad as a whole will benefit from it. When they were in their prime, they were the best detectives in the precinct, which indicates both natural intelligence and leadership skills. They are very competitive and proud of the things that they are good at, so much so that they never back down when their talents are challenged.

#happy september 1!#hogwarts express #brooklyn nine nine #b99 squad #c: jake peralta #c: amy santiago #c: rosa diaz #c: raymond holt #c: norm scully #c: michael hitchcock #c: gina linetti #c: terry jeffords #c: charles boyle #potterverse #b99 hp crossover #myposts #mywords

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myrcella · 5 years ago

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🌾💐🌺🥀 for theodosia & carmen!

theodosia

🌾 What would your OC be like if they were evil. Or if they’re already evil what would they be like as the good guy?

theodosia would be incredibly arrogant, considering herself civilised and superior to those who weren’t vault-born, and she would be ruthless and be able to justify harsh actions in a façade of fancy words. she definitely wouldn’t accept the fo1 ending (jacoren expelling her from the vault) and would cook up some spicy revenge... she wouldn’t take that betrayal lying down at all... and she would instead have no sympathy for the master, brutally destroying him and anything else in her path.

💐 How would your OC react to somebody telling them that they love them? (+ bonus give another characters/OC name!)

as we know theodosia ends up in a sole survivor situation, stumbling into cryogenic sleep in another vault based in california instead; when she awakes all those centuries later, it’s because of @ladycomstock’s boi, jasper! he’s the younger brother of angel, eden’s best friend (all connected 👀) anyway, the two have an immediate attraction and rapport and “go steady” soon enough.

jasper is quite a confident person and has courage early on to tell theodosia he loves her: she’s so bright, fun, witty and heroic. theodosia just feels full of joy and butterflies to know her feelings are reciprocated, and it’s a very sweet, teenage, puppy love relationship.

🌺 In what situation would your OC be pushed to commit an act of violence? Would they go as far to kill someone if they had to? How would this affect them and their relationships with others?

unfortunately due to the nature of the surface, theodosia has had to commit acts of violence often. she always feels guilty about it. how can you not? firstly she’s sixteen, secondly she’s the kindest and wisest soul, and knows all murder is wrong. however when she’s in the face of a raider’s barrel, there’s no other choice but the hard choice of killing in defence.

her relationships are mainly with people she meets who were born and raised in the wasteland, like killian, so there is barely a reaction; just a warning to not go too far off the deep end, or enjoy any of it.

🥀 What is something your OC blames themself for and is it really their fault? Does it keep them up at night and is there any lingering trauma?

theodosia has some trauma associated with being yanked out of her time after stumbling in the aforementioned cryogenic vault. it’s not her fault, but she feels like she abandoned where she came from. obviously vault 13 is long abandoned, populated by deathclaws, then abandoned and withered again by the time of new vegas. theodosia is all that remains of a people now spread out into a new legacy. it can be lonely and frightful.

carmen

🌾 was answered!

💐 carmen always played the flattered and charmed role when someone admitted a crush or love for her—she never really felt anything solid or genuine in return, until courting nathan, when he told her he loved her. of course the years wore on and he showed his true, abusive colours, so after nate she’s very emotionally scarred and hearing someone say they love her would make her react with disbelief, stubbornness, aloofness, etc.

🌺 again, in the wasteland there’s rarely a choice to talk things out in conflict. carmen does always tries her best however to sway a raider or frightened wastelander into a discussion, over shooting and killing. she very much wants the people she herds in sanctuary and her accrued companions to think of her as a good and kind person, so them witnessing anything violent would make her feel distraught.

🥀 oh lord, shaun is the beginning and end of all her angst. on her journey to her baby, she has to cut ties with people she began to love in the railroad, and children in the bos that deserved better. she just wanted everything to be peachy, but it couldn’t be because of how complex human nature is, and how fragile politics is. she has a LOT of guilt and trauma because of who she saved, and who she let go.

#roberthouses #tysm naomi 🥺❤️#theodosia #carmen

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sapphirelass · 4 years ago

Text

Deal? - Remus LupinxDaughter

Hi! :)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3)

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

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

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

I swear, my next story won’t be about Umbridge XD

Word count: ≈ 2300

Warnings: Umbridge, angst, slight swearing

Enjoy!

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

The student in question raised her hand angrily, and glared at Professor Umbridge. “Yes?” the teacher smiled sweetly, “miss… Lupin, am I correct?”

“Yes, Breanna!” she began, “but that’s besides the point. Look, I know what you’re doing, but Professor Lupin was the best DADA teacher we’ve ever had, and I’d be more than happy to bet everything I own on that being quite a common opinion in this classroom!”

She flashed a cruel, yet pleased, smirk as Breanna furiously stood up, despite Hermione desperately trying to force her down.

Umbridge looked frantic, and was about to speak up, but Breanna got there first. “I despise people who look down on others. People who claim to be better than everyone else. People like you. You certainly don’t deserve respect!”

***

A few hours later, Breanna made her way back to Umbridge’s office. She knew her friends had wanted to talk to her, but she had done her absolute best to avoid them all afternoon. She simply didn’t feel like explaining to them why she had done what she did. She’d gladly do it again though. Her father was the kindest, wisest, most incredible person she had ever met. He had done everything in his power to give her a good childhood, and no one had the right to insult him. She’d defend him to her last breath if that’s what it would come down to.

She knocked on the door carefully, and pushed it open when she heard a shrill, terrifying voice sing a sweet “come in”.

“Oh, miss Lupin, almost late I see!” she said arrogantly. Breanna didn’t have time to answer before her teacher continued. “Sit down.”

***

The detentions went on for another four days before Umbridge told her she didn’t have to come back the following evening, but that she better hold her tongue unless she longed for more. Breanna tried to keep that in mind, but still lost her cool a few more times before the end of the semester. However, the Christmas holidays were approaching, and though her red, swollen hand caused her to worry slightly, the idea of seeing her dad and godfather caused her enough joy to tip her mood over to “mainly happy”.

She stepped off the train with her friends, and immediately spotted her father on the platform.

“Hello, darling!” he said gently, returning the bone-crushing hug. “I missed you too, believe me…”

Breanna wanted to stay like that forever, but eventually let go as she intended to at least try to keep her… problems… hidden. She had never really been able to keep secrets from her dad, and therefore didn’t want to do anything he would consider “out of the ordinary”. If she did, he’d figure it out, or persuade her to tell him everything within minutes, and she knew he’d feel guilty if he realized what she had done for him. She understood perfectly well that the scars on her hand were deep enough to be visible for the rest of her life, and that nothing she would say could convince Remus Lupin that it was not his fault. She was left with one option: He could not, under any circumstances, know. Ever.

They carried her trunk together, and walked a few feet behind the rest of the gang.

“So?”, her father inquired, “How are things? You all doing okay?”

“I suppose”, she answered, “Our new DADA teacher is quite a daft prick though.”

“Bree!”, he muttered sternly, casually trying to hide a smile, “Are you sure that’s the right word? Sounds rather rough, doesn’t it?”

The witch shrugged. “No, I think it fits rather nicely. It’s almost as if she’s trying her very best to prevent us from learning anything helpful…”

“That’s… well, that doesn’t sound very promising, does it?”

“No, hence the slightly offensive description… But enough about her, how are you? Had any company while I was gone?”

The older wizard smiled, easily noticing the tone of his daughter’s voice switch into a far more joyful, energetic one - One he knew and loved!

***

Later that night, Breanna, Remus, Harry and Sirius were sat in the living room of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry and Sirius were playing catch with an old snitch they had found in the house, lazily throwing it back and forth. Breanna lay on a sofa, a thick leather bound book tightly clutched in her hands and her head resting on her fathers lap. He was deeply invested in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, and father and daughter were simply enjoying a nice, calm evening.

All of a sudden, Sirius grabbed the snitch, sat up straight and reached out towards his godson.

“Harry, what’s that on your hand?”

The dark haired boy pulled the sleeves of his jumper further down and mumbled a quiet “nothing”.

“Sure, let me see then”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry abo…”

“Who?”

“Sirius, I…”

“WHO?!”

By this time, both Remus and Breanna had put their books down, and were carefully observing the “argument”.

“It’s our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge. She’s quite generous when it comes to giving detentions. But mine’s really not that bad now. It barely hurts anymore...”

“That’s totally barbaric!? Moony, we have to…”

“Harry”, Remus interrupted his old friend with a worried look on his face, “What do you mean by ‘quite generous’?”

His heart practically skipped a beat when he felt his daughter shift uncomfortably, however it was Harry who answered.

“‘m quite sure half the Gryffindors have been to her office at least once by now. Even when you’re not really doing anything wrong, she’ll make up a ‘reasonable’ excuse…”

As Harry spoke, Breanna had unconsciously been pulling the sleeves of her jumper closer to her fingertips. Remus obviously noticed and made eye contact with Harry, nodding discreetly towards his daughter as if to ask if she too had… well… yeah? Harry closed his eyes, knowing full well how his friend wanted to hide her scars from her dad. It had taken hours of convincing before she had even let him, Ron and Hermione see, and he understood why she didn’t want Lupin to know. He did, however, not like the idea of lying to his former professor, and nodded slightly.

Remus closed his eyes looking simultaneously sad and angered, sat up straight and muttered “Bree?”

“Bree”, he repeated, “show me”

“Dad”, she mumbled quietly, “‘tis fine, don’t worry”

“Brianna!” His voice sounded far sterner now, “I’m serious. C’mere”

“No, I don’t want…”

“It’s not a question of whether or not you want to, Love”, Sirius explained before his friend could think of a response. “Show your dad.”

“But…”

“Bree”, Harry mumbled, “Just… just do it”

“No! I can handle it! Stop making it sound like I’m too weak to do so!”

She felt a tear escape her eye, and stood up to leave the room when Remus waved his wand and locked the door.

Taking yet another deep breath, his daughter turned around, made her way across the room, pulled her left sleeve up and slammed her scarred hand down on the table for the other three to see.

“There! You happy now?!”

A flood of tears were streaming down her face, as her dad, godfather and best friend leant closer and read seven deep-red, awful, heart wrenching words:

***

I must not defend filthy half breeds

***

Remus put his head in his hands and stood up, while Sirius moved closer to his goddaughter and pulled her into a tight hug. Harry joined the embrace and comfortingly rubbed her back.

“why? Why Bree?”, her father whispered quietly, his voice barely audible.

“I… I couldn’t...She… sorry…”

“Why, darling?”

He looks back at her, his eyes full of pride. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You mean besides being the most phenomenal dad imaginable?”

He chuckled softly, ruffled her long hair and held his hand out. Breanna slowly placed her hand on her father’s and shifted her gaze towards the floor as he examined the neatly written letters. With a worried expression on his face, he grabbed his wand and moved it back and forth over the scars while quietly muttering a few carefully chosen words. The pain immediately became more endurable, and after putting his wand away the older wizard grabbed his daughter’s shoulders gently, and looked at her in a sad, yet determined way.

“Bree, as honourable as your intentions are, please don’t do this for me. I’m not going to tell you to back down, but if you’re going to keep it up, don’t let it…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting injured because of me. I’m not wo…”

After a moment of silence, a quiet, “I still don’t like it…”, escaped his lips.

“I know.” She sighed, “That’s why I originally didn’t plan on telling you.”

Bree was fiddling with her fingers, not quite meeting her fathers warm gaze, when she suddenly sat up and said, “Let’s make a deal? I promise to choose my fights more wisely, and in return, you won’t blame yourself for the consequences of said choices? Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

Her father sighed, but reluctantly answered, “Fine, as long as you promise me one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t hide scars or pain from me ever again, no matter whether it’s physical or mental, okay? You’ll let me know, and let me help, always!”

She held her right hand out, her dad shook it and they shared a smile. This time, a true, pure one that actually reached their identically green eyes.

“Deal!”

~ L

Part 2 Oh, darling...

Masterlist

#Harry Potter #remus lupin #remus lupin x daughter #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #HP #hp imagine #imagine #sirius black #OC #lupin #lupin reader #remus lupin x oc #order of the phoenix #harry #xdaughter

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nix-needs-coffee · 5 years ago

Text

Torrid Affairs - Ch. 3

Anne goes too far.

Ch. 1 Ch. 2

AO3 Link

Katherine had grown accustomed to finding her phone in Anne’s possession over the next several days. It had occurred so many times that her outrage at the indignation had melted away into something more akin to mild irritation at the inconvenience.

For a time, she refused to let her device out of her sight. She kept it tucked tightly in a pocket, under a pillow, or in her hand, but needs must when performing in barely there costumes. When Anne began picking the locks to gain access to it, Katherine had to let it go. She no longer cared about where she put her phone down. She knew where she needed to go to find it. Anne’s inability to keep her volume at a reasonable level always led her straight to it.

Interventions led by Jane and Parr had been to no avail. Mediation between the parties had only amplified the behavior they had tried to quash. Both women, irritated by Katherine’s repeated claims that her phone had been stolen yet again, had bowed out of the fight, leaving Katherine to fend for herself.

Katherine had also given up on changing her passcode. After Anne had cracked it the first three times, she knew she had lost that battle. She wasn’t necessarily hiding anything on her phone; however, the invasion of her privacy set her nerves on edge. Her skin crawled with the idea that someone was trawling through her conversations, pictures, and files. Her stomach clenched at the thought that Anne had full access to all of her social media accounts. She tried not to dwell on it for too long to keep her anxiety at bay.

Eventually, she became desensitized to the intrusion on her personal affairs.

That was until several weeks after Anne had first stolen her phone. All of her pent up feelings, dissociated to keep her numb, had surfaced in one moment, at one sight.

What had turned her into sweating, tense mess was seeing Catherine of Aragon in on Anne’s scheme as well. She had walked into their dressing room to retrieve her phone and found Catherine peering over Anne’s shoulder as she typed something. Both girls had been giggling uncontrollably.

“Give me that,” she demanded, reaching to snatch the phone out of Anne’s hand, but Catherine beat her to it.

Guarding the phone from Katherine’s view, she swiped several times.

“It’s alright. It’s already done,” Anne piped in.

Catherine hesitated a moment before holding out the phone with a smug, “Here,” for Katherine to take.

“I expected better of you, Catherine. Her I understand, but you?” She didn’t even attempt to hide the wounded look on her face conveying how deeply she was hurt by Catherine’s betrayal. She had come to expect underhanded dealings by Anne, but the lofty pinnacle of morality that Catherine claimed to be a part of was directly opposed to such a breach of trust.

Katherine felt violated. Alarmed, she grumbled, “What were you doing?” She knew any answer they could provide would not mollify her.

“Don’t look so glum, Kitty! You’ll find out soon enough!” Anne appeared downright euphoric.

Holding her phone in her hand, she watched the display darken before going black, her reflection in the glass marred by frustrated tears.

***

Katherine walked home alone that night, giving the other girls a wide breadth of space and time. She fell further and further behind until they were long out of sight. Walking past the pub just at the top of their street, she heard Anne’s elated cheers and felt herself being tugged inside the dimly lit bar.

“You might not have noticed, but we’ve had something of a small project in the works.” Anne, delighted with herself, dragged Katherine deeper into the pub.

“If your project was anything other than finding yourself on the sorry end of a swordsman’s swing again, I would call it unsuccessful,” Katherine only half-joked, feeling an unfamiliar and entirely out-of-character desire to take up a more murderous path in life.

Anne wasn’t listening. “-and now he’s that one there. Right under that horrid lamp!”

Katherine gawked at her. “Who is where now?”

“Your date!”

“My what?”

“I never took you for an idiot. I mean, not really. But now I might have to,” Anne rubbed at her temples and began to speak slowly, as if Katherine were incapable of understanding her words. “Your. Date.”

“Why do I have a date?”

“Because me and Catherine set you up! Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Do I ever?”

Anne leaned her head against the wooden back of a booth, not caring that it was sticky with an unidentifiable substance, and bounced her head against it. “Look. He’s right there!”

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do.” Katherine had no clue how to proceed with this scenario, nor did she have any interest in the man below the gaudy lamp in a cheap pub.

“I don’t know. Maybe start with ‘Hi. I’m Katherine.’”

She looked around to find Catherine smiling broadly at her from a booth in the far corner and gesturing in the man’s direction with her drink. Katherine presumed she was trying to communicate that she wanted her to buy the man a drink. Making her way past the tables, Katherine set off in the direction of the man before making a brisk escape through the fire exit at the side of the pub. Never more glad to be wearing her flats, she made a break for it through the narrow alley knowing Anne would try to cut her off from the front doors, picking her way over glass shards and leaping over puddles shining in the moonlight.

Anne nearly had her in reach when she emerged from the alley, but fortune, it seemed, had been on her side. Nothing but the wind from Anne’s hand grasping for her touched her as she gave everything she had into getting home.

***

A warm shower did her wonders. Katherine was able to calm her frazzled nerves and her simmering desire for homicide cooled. With her hair wrapped in a towel and I’m a warm set of pajamas on, Katherine re-emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and able to find the humor in the scenario she had escaped from.

She was turning the handle to enter her bedroom when she was once again yanked off her equilibrium by Anne.

“I didn’t want you to be unprepared?”

“Unprepared? God, Anne, what now?”

Anne didn’t elaborate, choosing instead to pull her into an awkward hug and tucking a small wrapper into her waistband. Katherine pushed her off just as quickly as she had latched onto her, and Anne disappeared into her own bedroom.

Pulling the small package out of her waistband, Katherine’s nose scrunched in disgust at the realization that she was holding a condom. Alleviating some of her feelings, she chucked it at Anne’s door before returning to the solace of her bedroom.

Throwing her door open, she was ready to collapse into her bed and forget about how the day had unfolded, but was held to the spot by the sight in front of her.

Her bed was occupied.

By the man from the pub.

Katherine stood, wide-eyed, staring at the sight, unable to react.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted her, lifting the duvet up as if the sight of him unclothed beneath it would entice her to join him.

The action was all she needed to remind her limbs how to function. She spun on her heel, storming out of her room. Anne’s door rustled a bit as the occupants of the room shoved each other to get a look through the inch opening, Katherine threw the full force of her weight into it, enjoying the cracking sound it made as it bounced off both of the women’s heads.

“He took off his pants. I’m leaving. He’s your problem.” Katherine deadpanned, unable to enjoy the sight of both girls clutching their heads in pain before she went to seek shelter in Anna’s room.

***

Catherine had to admit, setting Katherine up on a date had not been one of her wisest or kindest ideas that she had made in recent memory. She hadn’t expected the events to unfold in the manner in which they had, and the resulting anger and humiliation that Katherine felt was undeserving. Guilt had certainly settled in, though that was well after the annoyance of trying to dismiss Katherine’s spurned stud.

They had yet to find where he had left his pants.

Anne was already babbling about the next phase of her plan, and Catherine couldn’t help but feel the irritation creeping back up her spine. “Haven’t you given up yet? Please, stop embarrassing yourself,” she begged, holding her head in her hands. The lump just above her hairline a painful reminder of what happens when she lets Anne get too carried away.

“If rather be dead," Anne stated matter of fact.

“Then I have some good news for you,” Catherine mumbled, not sure if it would be herself of Katherine that dealt the killing blow.

#six fanfiction #sorry for being late #this took longer than expected

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