#reminds me of the time we got a lot of snow (in england) and i made like a grecian snow statue

[jeffersonhairpie]

Pokemon teams for your local ghost

Exactly what it says on the tin. I’ve tried to build a Pokémon team for each of the Button House ghosts.

I’ve used personality, ghost powers and time period to come up with a full team that I think makes thematic sense for everyone. Where possible, I’ve tried to give everyone the fully evolved forms of all their teammates, but this doesn’t always work out. All Pokémon have been given a Nature, Ability and Item along with a full move-set that feels appropriate for the team they’re on.

My one hard rule for myself was that everyone needed to have at least one Ghost type Pokémon on their team. Less hard but a rule I still stuck to was that everyone gets a full team of six.

This post got super long, so see below for full teams and explanations.

Robin:

Robin’s team is made up of Pokémon that could have been around 40,000 years ago. Robin was part of a hunter-gatherer society, so he would have moved around a lot and had plenty of opportunities to train and catch Pokémon in different locales. Given the presence of a whole lot more animals (and Pokémon) that would have been dangerous to humans back when Robin was alive, it was essential for him to have a pretty tough team that could help protect him from day-to-day threats His fighting style is a combination of aggressive and troll-ish, and he’s not afraid to have one of his team faint in order to deliver a finishing blow. Watch out for paralysis, increased crit ratios and sound-based moves. Just don’t expect your Ground types to be any use here.

The items on all of Robin’s Pokémon are naturally occurring and he would have had to forage for them. None of his Pokémon know any TM moves as these were several thousand years away from being invented. None of his Pokémon know any tutor moves as he wasn’t able to travel far enough to meet any tutors. He would have hollowed out his own Apricorn balls to store these critters, which I would imagine were not particularly good at staying closed. Robin does not have any Steel types because he lived in the Stone Age

 ANNIHILAPE – Fighting/Ghost - Male

Adamant Nature

Ability: Defiant

 Held item: King’s Rock

Thrash

Rage Fist

Screech

Final Gambit

 EXPLOUD – Normal - Female

Naughty Nature

Ability: Scrappy

 Held item: Razor Claw

Thunder Fang

Supersonic

Screech

Boomburst

 GREAT TUSK – Ground/Fighting – Unknown

Impish Nature

Ability: Protosynthesis

Held item: Leftovers

Taunt

Close Combat

Headlong Rush

Substitute

 LUNATONE – Rock/Psychic - Unknown

Modest Nature

Ability: Levitate

 Held item: Hard Stone

Moonblast

Moonlight

Stone Edge

Explosion

 MAMOSWINE – Ice/Ground - Female

Naughty Nature

Ability: Snow Cloak

Held item: Never Melt Ice

Endure

Amnesia

Earthquake

Blizzard

 ROTOM – Electric/Ghost (Fire/Water/Ice/Flying/Grass) - Unknown

Rash Nature

Ability: Levitate

Held item: Quick Claw

Thunderwave

Hex

Thundershock/Overheat/Hydro Pump/Blizzard/Air Slash/Heat Storm

Uproar

Annihilape because there’s something a bit Robin-esque about its stance. Plus, Ghost/Fighting seemed like an appropriate type combo for him to have in his team

Exploud because Robin loves to be loud, and this is as noisy as Pokémon get

Great Tusk because Robin isn’t old enough to have a fossil Pokémon nor young enough to have lived when the technology to revive them had been invented. BUT he is old enough for a Paradox Pokémon and Great Tusk reminds me of a boar and a mammoth, both of which Robin mentions as animals that were alive when he was

Lunatone for the moon.

Mammoswine because it’s a mammoth

Rotom because he needs an Electric type and seeing as he’s always messing around with the Button House electrics, he should have one that can infect different devices. The third move slot depends on what forme his Rotom takes, with Rotom formes being something he’s been experimenting with for the past hundred years or so as electronic appliances have started to appear in the house.

  Humphrey:

Humphrey is a noble from Tudor England, a time when national borders were drawn and they mattered. As such, his team is built entirely from Pokémon found in the Galar region. Pokémon used for hunting and to show off status are a must, and everyone’s into breeding their Pokémon to ensure the best possible offspring, so you’ll see egg moves galore on this team. And would you look at that! Steel types now exist!

TM’s still don’t exist and while most items are still naturally occurring, technology has come far enough (and Humphrey is rich enough to afford) incense as a held item for one Pokémon. Humphrey would have been able to afford for an artisan to make his Apricorn balls from some of the breeds that were being specifically cultivated for catching Pokémon.  

 AEGISLASH – Steel/Ghost - Female

Brave Nature

Ability: Stance Change

Held item: King’s Rock

King’s Shield

Shadow Sneak

Sword’s Dance

Sacred Sword

   BOLTUND – Electric - Female

Hasty Nature

Ability: Strong Jaw

Held Item: Electric Gem

Nuzzle

Bite

Howl

Play Rough

   CORVIKNIGHT – Flying/Steel - Female

Bold Nature

Ability: Mirror Armor

Held Item: Power Herb

Leer

Taunt

Steel Wing

Sky Attack

   HYDREIGON – Dark/Dragon - Male

Mild Nature

Ability: Levitate

Held Item: Dragon Fang

Crunch

Scary Face

Outrage

Head Smash

   RAPIDASH (Galarian forme) – Psychic/Fairy - Male

Serious Nature

Ability: Pastel Veil

Held item: Odd Incense

Agility

Morning Sun

Psychic

Dazzling Gleam

   ROSERADE – Grass/Poison - Male

Modest Nature

Ability: Technician

Held item: Big Root

Grass Whistle

Leech Seed

Giga Drain

Extrasensory

  Aegislash - too soon?

Boltund because, as a noble, Humphrey would have considered hunting a fun pastime and he would have needed a pack of hounds to assist in this. He got the gem on Boltund from his wife as they’re available in Kalos but not Galar. Sadly, this Pokémon isn’t able to make full use of its ability due to TMs not being invented yet but the extra jaw strength does help on the hunt.

Corviknight because, during Tudor times, status was expressed through the birds of prey you flew. Also, for hunting purposes.

Hyderigon because it makes for a great coat of arms. Also, there are legends about how you can cut off one head of this Pokémon and another will appear, which I’m sure he just hates to be reminded of these days.

Rapidash because a horse would have been an essential form of transport and, being noble, Humprey would have wanted the most magnificent horse around. This stallion fits the bill.

Roserade because theatre was all the rage in Tudor England, so Humphrey would have needed in house entertainment to keep high status guests amused. This Roserade probably performer for Henry VIII

  Mary

Mary was a poor farmhand throughout her life and so her Pokémon are intended to serve a more practical purpose than battling. Which isn’t to say that she won’t try to kick your ass when the moment’s right. When she does fight, Mary plays defensive, making sure that all her attacking moves have 100% accuracy and won’t knock any health off her Pokémon with rebound. Come prepared for long, drawn out battles.

As a skilled farmer, and without much time to go foraging for other items, all of Mary’s Pokémon have a berry as a held item, which Mary probably grew herself. Because these Pokémon were caught for practicality above all else, they are all wild caught (save Morpeko, which was a gift) and so none of them have their Hidden Ability. Even if TM’s did exist yet, I doubt Mary could afford one. Like Robin, she would have needed to hollow out her own Apricorns for balls, but I would imagine she was able to do so with a cultivar better suited for catching than the ones that grow wild.

 APPLETUN – Grass/Dragon - Male

Hardy Nature

Ability: Ripen

Held Item: Iapapa Berry

Protect

Apple Acid

Iron Defence

Dragon Pulse

   LAMPENT – Ghost/Fire - Female

Bashful Nature

Ability: Flame Body

Held item: Petaya Berry

Will-O-Wisp

Hex

Inferno

Minimize

   LEAVANNY – Bug/Grass - Female

Docile Nature

Ability: Chlorophyll

Held item: Occa Berry

False Swipe

String Shot

Leaf Blade

Me First

   MILTANK – Normal - Female

Quirky Nature

Ability: Thick Fat

Held item: Ganlon Berry

Defence Curl

Milk Drink

Charm

Body Slam

   MORPEKO – Electric/Dark - Female

Naive Nature

Ability: Hunger Switch

Held item: Lansat Berry

Crunch

Tickle

Agility

Aura Wheel

   SKUNTANK – Poison/Dark - Male

Docile Nature

Ability: Stench

Held Item: Custap Berry

Flamethrower

Screech

Toxic

Nigh Slash

  Appletun because Mary worked the fields throughout her life and apples would have been a big harvest. Plus, in a time before sugar, I bet apple-based puddings were some of her very favourite sweets

Lampent because Mary would have needed to keep a lamp lit to see what she was up to after dark. Also, as a Ghost/Fire type it comes close to being a representation of how she died. Unevolved because Dusk Stones would have been rare and expensive.

Leavanny because it’s a Pokémon known for sewing and weaving, and as a poor woman of her time, Mary would have had to make all her own clothes (and her husband’s, and her children’s) so she could use some help. Also, it helps to have a Bug type to pollinate crops in Spring.

Milkank because having a family cow for milk is always useful. Also, baby wants its nilkies...

Morpeko because Mary is usually pretty unassuming but when she gets angry, she goes apeshit

Skuntank because Mary is the stinkiest ghost, so she needs a stinky pal

  Kitty

Kitty’s a simple woman. She likes pink and purple things, she likes soft things, she likes moves that look pretty and she likes having friends. She also, every now and then, likes to kick ass. Her Pokémon’s moves tend to be selected for aesthetic or emotional reasons, so you can never be quite sure what she’s going to pull on you, and a lot of her Pokémon have been with her since she was a child. Watch out for hard hitting moves out of nowhere, and remember not to judge a book by its cover/Pokémon by its appearance

Being from the landed gentry, Kitty didn’t have to catch many of her Pokémon herself. Her father lovingly arranged for most of these critters to come into her life. As such, breeding moves are more than fair game and you’ll see that we’re getting quite advanced with some of the items Kitty’s able to use. Because she wasn’t catching her own Pokémon, Kitty doesn’t really know much about the Apricorn balls they’re stored in, beyond that they look very pretty.

 BEWEAR – Normal/Fighting - Female

Adamant Nature

Ability: Fluffy

Held item: Metronome

Baby-doll Eyes

Double Edge

Superpower

Rollout

   GRUMPIG – Psychic - Female

Timid Nature

Ability: Own Tempo

Held item: Protective Pads

Teeter Dance

Power Gem

Zen Headbutt

Bounce

   POLTEAGEIST – Ghost - Unknown

Modest Nature

Ability: Cursed Body

Held Item: Big Root

Teatime

Sweet Scent

Giga Drain

Shadow Ball

   SAWSBUCK (Spring forme) – Normal/Grass - Male

Brave Nature

Ability: Serene Grace

Held item: King’s Rock

Horn Leech

Headbutt

Zen Headbutt

Energy Ball

   TINKATON – Fairy/Steel - Female

Careful Nature

Ability: Moldbreaker

Held Item: Clear Amulet

Sweet Kiss

Play Rough

Ice Hammer

Gigaton Hammer

   VIVILLON (Meadow forme) – Bug/Flying - Male

Timid Nature

Ability: Friend Guard

Held Item: Destiny Knot

Safeguard

Bug Buzz

Quiver Dance

Hurricane

  Bewear because it gives the best hugs! Kitty just wants to cuddle a giant teddy bear and really, who wouldn’t?

Grumpig because you know Kitty had to raise a Spoink out of morbid curiosity to see if it really would die if it stopped bouncing. She never could be sure because sometimes she had to sleep, and her sister refused to take turns and watch her Pokémon while she was napping. All the same, Kitty is very fond of her Grumpig and has had it wearing the Protective Pads since it was a Spoink to help it not die from reasons unrelated to bouncing.

Polteageist because you need tea to have a tea party with your friends. Once upon a time, Kitty’s father gave her and her sister each a Sinistea, not realising that one was an Antique and the other a Phony. Kitty got the Antique and her sister talked her into trading, thinking she was being oh so very clever, but it turns out Kitty didn’t care whether she had the genuine article or not, she just likes her teapot Pokémon.

Sawsbuck because it evolved from Kitty’s first ever Pokémon - a pretty pink Deerling that she BEGGED her father for. It has a classic kid’s set up of all damaging moves with a redundant second Grass type attack, all because Kitty thought she was being very clever by picking moves that worked well with her Pokémon’s ability.

Tinkaton because it is the most Kitty-core Pokémon to ever exist. She is going to crush you with her little pink pal. And oh look! It’s wearing pretty jewellery

Vivillon because scooping up caterpillars in the grounds can sometimes give you a pretty pink butterfly.

  Thomas

I tried to give everyone a good team but that simply wasn’t possible here because Thomas is not a good trainer. His Pokémon like him as much as can be expected but they’re not well set up for winning battles, much as Thomas will swear blind that he’s working on a killer strategy that never seems to involve changing anything about his line-up. Expect to defeat him easily, though if anything’s going to give you trouble it’s his Charizard.

Thomas’s ability to relate to his Pokémon, or to see something poetic in their nature, is far more important to him than selecting Pokémon which might actually improve his standing. He believes that tragedy makes people and Pokémon alike stronger, but so far, he hasn’t proven this on the battlefield or in his poetry. Still no TMs, still unable to access a lot of held items and poor Thomas doesn’t really understand how Abilities or Held Items work. His Apricorn balls are made by someone else and bought on the cheap. He’s always grumbling about how Byron could have afforded better balls.

 BANETTE – Ghost - Male

Adamant Nature

Ability: Insomnia

Held Item: Dark Gem

Spite

Will-O-Wisp

Hex

Role Play

   CHARIZARD – Fire/Flying - Male

Rash Nature

Ability: Blaze

Held Item: Charcoal

Smokescreen

Air Slash

Scary Face

Flare Blitz

   CUBONE – Ground - Male

Lonely Nature

Ability: Lightning Rod

Held Item: Thick Club

False Swipe

Stomping Tantrum

Focus Energy

Bonemerang

   SMEARGLE – Normal - Female

Lax Nature

Ability: Moody

Held Item: Full Incense

Fake Tears

Metronome

Present

Sketch

   UNFEASANT – Normal/Flying - Male

Hasty Nature

Ability: Rivalry

Held Item: Destiny Knot

Leer

Feather Dance

Roost

Sky Attack

   YAMASK – Ghost - Male

Quirky Nature

Ability: Mummy

Held Item: Stone Plate

Crafty Shield

Grudge

Shadow Ball

Destiny Bond

  Banette because it has been discarded and is looking for someone to love it and Thomas can relate so hard

Charizard because its whole line will die if the fire that powers them goes out and Thomas can relate so hard. This one’s holding the Charcoal Thomas used to doodle with between poems

Cubone because its whole deal is being sad and Thomas can relate so hard

Smeargle because if you’re an artist of any kind you need the Painter Pokemon on your team. As you can see, Thomas hasn’t been very successful in Sketching decent moves with his, and he has misunderstood the purpose of a Full Incense, but he’s certain that newly open Sketch slot is going to bring him glory

Unfeasant because Thomas needs somewhere to get feathers for his quills.

Yamask because it is always crying about the person it could have been and Thomas can relate so hard. Here he’s misunderstood the type of his Pokémon but he thinks an Arceus Plate adds prestige

  Fanny

Fanny has always preferred animals (Pokémon) to people. What’s more, as a very intelligent and wildly under stimulated woman in a loveless marriage, she became a very good Pokémon trainer. Her team is almost entirely made up of Pokémon based off real world animals and she is a lot closer to being competitively viable than the rest of the ghosts. Expect everything to be thrown at you. Absolutely everything.

Once she was married, Fanny’s finances would have allowed her access to all sorts of fascinating new items now available in the modern age. Breeding and trading from other regions were also no object to the woman trying to have it all with her Pokémon. This of course extended to the latest in Apricorn ball and Pokéball technology, as the first non-organic balls would have been in circulation towards the end of her life. And what’s this? Metagross has an extremely modern move on it. HMs have now been invented!

 BASCULEGION – Water/Ghost - Male

Lonely Nature

Ability: Adaptability

Held Item: Life Orb

Last Respects

Scary Face

Head Smash

Wave Crash

   INCINEROAR – Fire/Dark - Female

Sassy Nature

Ability: Intimidate

Held Item: Heavy-Duty Boots

Knock Off

Parting Shot

Scary Face

Flare Blitz

   METAGROSS – Steel/Psychic - Unknown

Impish Nature

Ability: Clear Body

Held Item: Leftovers

Zen Headbutt

Strength

Meteor Mash

Rest

   MUDSDALE – Ground - Female

Relaxed Nature

Ability: Stamina

Held Item: Heal Bell

Iron Defence

Earthquake

Mega Kick

Super Power

   STOUTLAND – Normal - Female

Adamant Nature

Ability: Scrappy

Held Item: Silk Scarf

Work Up

Retaliate

Play Rough

Last Resort

   TALONFLAME – Fire/Flying - Female

Jolly Nature

Ability: Flame Body

Held Item: Focus Sash

Flare Blitz

Defog

Roost

Brave Bird

  Basculegion because a frail male Pokémon that can still do a huge wop of damage is something that probably resonates with Fanny. I bet she feeds it lots of bitter food and it absolutely hates her.

Incineroar for Apollo the tiger. Plus, it’s one of the most dominant Pokémon in competitive play and has been since its introduction. No way Fanny would be foolish enough to go without one.

Metagross because it’s wickedly smart and very good in competitive play. As a maths whizz, Fanny needs to make sure she’s got a biological super-computer on her side.

Mudsdale for Montague the horse! This isn’t a Pokémon that’s seen quite so much competitive play as her first two, but she loves it and understands the value of having a solid Ground type on the team.

Stoutland for Dante, and because anyone who isn’t scared of this tanky little dog has never had one pop up on the Battle Subway. There’s nothing flashy about Normal types, but they’re a pain to get off the field.

Talonflame for Jasper the Falcon. Another Pokémon that has seen good competitive use over the years. This one, of course, relies on its speed to sweep

  The Captain

When it comes to Pokémon, The Captain is not a particularly complex man. He likes soldiers, so he gravitates towards Fighting types, and he likes defenders, so he gravitates towards Steel types. Appearances are very important to him, so he leans towards Pokémon that give the appearance of being soldiers more than anything. Safe to say, his team isn’t particularly diverse, and you’ll only need a couple of counters to take him down. But if you don’t bring those counters? Expect a world of pain. The Captain’s Pokémon are well trained and always opt for moves that cause the most damage, even if they damage the user. Expect suicide strats and Hail Mary’s and a trainer who treats this as life or death.

The Captain’s Pokémon were probably trained on the Button House grounds, with some to all of them being military issue. A limited number of TM’s had been invented by the time he died, so you’ll see some moves out with standard learn-sets starting to crop up. He would have had access to standard issue British Army Pokéballs so that’s what all his Pokémon are kept in.

 BISHARP – Dark/Steel - Male

Brave Nature

Ability: Defiant

Held Item: Black Glasses

Iron Defence

Retaliate

Iron Head

Swords Dance

 CERULEDGE - Fire/Ghost - Male

Brave Nature

Ability: Flash Fire

Held Item: Power Herb

Shadow Sneak

Sword’s Dance

Solar Blade

Flare Blitz

Escavalier – Bug/Steel - Male

Brave Nature

Ability: Swarm

Held Item: Choice Band

Double Edge

X-Scissor

Iron Head

Giga Impact

   FALINKS – Fighting - Unknown

Brave Nature

Ability: Defiant

Held Item: Focus Sash

First Impression

No Retreat

Close Combat

Megahorn

   MIMIKYU - Ghost/Fairy - Male

Sassy Nature

Ability: Disguise

Held Item: Life Orb

Wood Hammer

Shadow Claw

Play Rough

Pain Split

 SIRFETCH’D – Fighting - Male

Brave Nature

Ability: Scrappy

Held Item: Leftovers

Knock-Off

Swords Dance

Brave Bird

Meteor Assault

  Bisharp because it’s got that straight backed, stiff upper lip temperament that The Captain loves so much. Of course, he hasn’t evolved it, he’s looking for soldiers, not commanders (also evolving Bisharp is hard)

Ceruledge because it’s got that knight in shining armour swag and literally has blades for hands so it can’t help winning fights

Falinks because it’s a little soldier Pokémon that gets in formation and stays in formation

Mimikyu because it has a secret which it hides beneath an exterior it thinks people can’t see through

Sirfetch’d because it’s a proper soldier that comes to battle with its weapon in hand

  Pat

Pat has picked most of his Pokémon for how much help they could be in teaching badge-worthy skills to a group of Scouts, or by how hungry they make him. Being ruled by your stomach doesn’t always pay off when it comes to picking Pokémon, as it turns out, and a few critters that Pat would have liked to have kept on for companionship reasons wound up becoming final evolutions that might actually have some battle utility simply so he could stop thinking about eating them. Who’d have guessed? Expect a mixed bag when battling Pat. You can never be quite sure why he added a particular Pokémon to his team so some are well set up to kick ass and some are...not.

We’ve hit the 70′s! More TMs are on the market and while not cheap, they’re widely available. Pretty much all held items are also now up for grabs, with some being more expensive than others. Pat is proud of his foraging skills though (he’s got the badge and everything) so when in doubt he loves sticking a good Berry or Ore on his Pokémon. Pat has his Apricorn carving badge, but I’m sure his troop would tell you that even using specialised Apricorns, the balls he makes don’t stay closed for long.

   ARCANINE – Fire - Female

Naughty Nature

Ability: Justified

Held Item: Choice Band

Flare Blitz

Crunch

Extreme Speed

Wild Charge

   CHARCADET – Fire - Male

Bold Nature

Ability: Flash Fire

Held Item: Charcoal

Leer

Clear Smog

Night Shade

Ember

   DRIFBLIM - Ghost/Flying - Drifblim

Mild Nature

Ability: Aftermath

Held Item: Flame Orb

Minimize

Gust

Tailwind

Explosion

   EXEGGUTOR – Grass/Psychic - Male

Quiet Nature

Ability: Harvest

Held Item: Sitrus Berry

Grass Knot

Psychic

Sunny Day

Rest

   MUNCHLAX – Normal - Male

Sassy Nature

Ability: Pickup

Held Item: Leftovers

Lick

Stockpile

Swallow

Amnesia

   TOGEKISS – Fairy/Flying - Female

Bold Nature

Ability: Serene Grace

Held Item: Babiri Berry

Air Slash

Aura Sphere

Wish

Thunder Wave

  Arcanine because Pat loves dogs, and he also has a bit of a punitive streak so giving him the signature Pokémon of cops everywhere seems appropriate

Charcadet because it was Pat’s best demonstration Pokémon for his scouts. It’s always raring to go and can show you how to build a fire in no time, plus it keeps the tent warm

Drifblim because Pat is convinced it’s a totally normal baloon. Nothing untoward here! It can held in all sorts of baloon and kite related activities and nothing bad will ever happen.

Exeggutor for eggs. Pat used to think he was never going to evolve his Exeggcute but he wanted to eat them too badly and had to switch them up for something a little less obviously edible. Exeggutor is useful for teaching young scouts how to tie grass knots, mind.  

Munchlax because it’s temperament is Pat-adjacent. Another favourite of his scouts, though mostly due to the problems it caused due to eating everything not nailed down.

Togekiss because it’s another egg that Pay has had to evolve in order to stave off his munchies. Also because it pays to have at least one properly strong Pokémon on your team if you ever need to demonstrate battling.

  Julian

Julian is a dirty old man (affectionate) first and a Tory politician (derogatory) second. His team reflects these key aspects of his personality perfectly. Everything is here either for reasons of sexual innuendo or because he’s trying to swindle you, it’s really not that complicated. But, if he could stand to commit to the bit just a shade less, he might be able to put together a functional team. Expect to win against Julian, not because his Pokémon are bad but because his movesets are trash. Just know you’re going to hate the self-satisfied smirk he shoots you telling his Pokemon to use Lick.

TM’s are now a fully functional part of team building, and while they’re still pretty expensive, Julian has no qualms about spending his constituents’ money on such things. It’s Luxury Balls only for this group of horny shitposts.

CLOYSTER – Water/Ice - Female

Impish Nature

Ability: Overcoat

Held Item: Zoom Lens

Leer

Liquidation

Helping Hand

Blizzard

   GRIMMSNARL – Dark/Fairy - Male

Naughty Nature

Ability: Prankster

Held Item: Leftovers

Flatter

Nasty Plot

Play Rough

Body Press

    FROSSLASS - Ice/Ghost - Female

Naughty Nature

Ability: Cursed Body

Held Item: Absorb Bulb

Double Team

Aurora Veil

Water Pulse

Ice Spinner

 HYPNO – Psychic - Male

Sassy Nature

Ability: Inner Focus

Held Item: Amulet Coin

Pound

Confuse Ray

Role Play

Future Sight

  LICKILICKY – Normal - Female

Bold Nature

Ability: Cloud Nine

Held Item: Binding Band

Lick

Wrap

Power Whip

Giga Impact

  LOPUNNY – Normal - Female

Naive Nature

Ability: Limber

Held Item: Blue Scarf

Baby-Doll Eyes

Bounce

Draining Kiss

Assurance

  Cloyster because we all know what this Pokémon sort of looks like and Julian finds this highly amusing

Grimmsnarl because it’s a ghoulish little goblin, just like Julian

Froslass because Julian 100% would follow a pretty lady into a snowstorm

Hypno because every politician needs a sidekick who can confuse and bamboozle the opposition.

Lickilicky because Julian is a whore

Lopunny for all the reasons that make it the most likely Pokémon for you to run into some unsavoury fanart of

Some closing thoughts:

I like to think that the King’s Rock used here by Robin, Humphrey and Kitty is the same one re-found several times

Let’s not think too hard about how these Pokeon would still be alive so many years after their trainers had died. They’re alive and they can see ghosts! Woohoo!

[believemetheodore]

Northern Attitude pt. 2

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Divorce is hard. it doesn't matter if you're the one who got left, or you're the one doing the leaving. When an unexpected blizzard puts a dangerous twist in Ted's hiking adventures he's rescued by an axe-wielding, lumber-chopping, blonde angel. Oh, and there's only one bed. Warnings: divorce mentions, mentions of Ted's dad, snow storms, depictions of childhood injuries, broken bones (past), Rupert (mentioned), let me know if you want me to add anything.

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Ted remembers falling out of a tree when he was a kid--probably only eight or nine years old. He hadn’t made it very far up the tree, but he broke his arm anyway. For a minute he’d just laid there in the grass looking up at the canopy of green leaves above him. The shock of the fall had knocked the air from his lungs and he couldn’t call out for help. 

His mom had found him, and got him to the hospital to have his arm looked at. With all the adrenaline out of his system, it hurt a whole heck of a lot, but still, he was quiet; like all the fear, and hurt was trapped in his chest.

In the waiting room, his Ma just kept telling him he'd be alright, over and over again, like a mantra.

His dad was home from work when they got back, and Ted was allowed to have an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert. “So, what did ya learn today?” His father asked. “Not to climb trees,” Ted replied. “Nah,” his dad shook his head, “You just learned one wrong way to climb a tree”. When Ted got his cast taken off a couple of weeks later, he climbed right back up the same tree he’d fallen out of. He climbed almost every tree in the neighbourhood that summer. Ted’s never been a quitter. 

He knows he was lucky to grow up with parents as fantastic as his folks were. For all the growing pains, and the tragedy, he can say he actually had a really good childhood. He knows guys his age carrying around the weight of the world on their shoulders. They fight their own pasts, and shadowbox their childhoods, trying not to hand down their aches and heartbreaks to their own sons. Ted hopes he manages to only pass down the good things to his.

Henry broke his arm at school a while back and it nearly sent Ted into a panic. Henry took it in stride, excited to get his cast signed when he saw his friends. He got that from Michelle, his carefree nature. Ted's always been a  worrier. 

“Were you scared?” Ted asked Henry that night, tucking him into bed.

“Nope! My teacher said you and mom were coming to get me. It hurt a lot though”.

“How ya feeling now?”

Henry shrugged, “I don't know if football is the sport for me. I don't think I'm very good at sports”.

Ted hummed, weighing his son's words, “ya know, I broke my arm when I was your age. Fell outta tree. Thought I'd never climb a tree again”.

Henry grinned at his father's story, “did you?”

“Lots of ‘em. Your grandpa--my dad, reminded me that we all make mistakes. But a lot of times mistakes are just lessons on how not to do something,” Ted pauses, “don't stop doing something you enjoy. Just figure out a different way to do it”. 

“A different way to play football?”

Ted wasn't shocked by the question. He's always had the habit of letting his tongue get ahead of his thoughts. Words flow without thought, and even he's left piecing together their meaning. 

How do you play football differently? 

“They call soccer, football in England,” Ted floated the idea. 

“A different kind of football,” Henry nodded in the affirmative. 

When Ted's eyes flutter open again, the first thing he's aware of is the cold. Snow has found its way down the collar of his coat. And then he sees her, Diane Sawyer. 

Only in his dreams.

Is he dead? The thought crosses his mind. 

“Hello?” She says, “can you hear me?” 

Not Diane Sawyer. 

He groans trying to sit up.

“Woah, take it easy. That was quite the tumble you took,” the angel lady says, gently pushing on his chest to get him to lie down again. He doesn't fight it. 

“How's your head? Are you in any pain?” She asks. Oh, that's not an accent he's used to hearing.  

“Noggin feels fine,” he confirms. 

She nods, letting him sit up slowly, it's easier to breathe now. 

“What's your name?” 

“Ted Lasso”.

“It's nice to meet you Ted. I'm Rebecca Welton”. 

He hums, “it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms Welton. I gotta ask though, is that an English accent I'm hearing”.

He's got a lot of questions, come to think of it. How long was he out for? It's hard to tell just by looking at the sky, equally as grey as it was when he set out in the morning. The wind has died down, the ice rain seems to have calmed back down to playful flurries.

How far did he fall? He can't quite make out the top of the hill, but he must've fallen a fair distance. He hit something on the way down, that much he can feel for sure. His shoulder throbs, but a cursory movement confirms that it's not broken or dislocated.

She smiles softly, almost as if it's in spite of herself, “Rebecca, please. Ms Welton is my father. But, to answer your question, I'm from London, yes”. 

“If that's a joke I love it. If not, I can't wait to unpack that with you,” Ted chuckled as she helps him to his feet. 

Goly, she's tall. It's hard to tell in the snow but she's nearly as tall as he is. She's not wearing a heavy winter coat, and yet here he is shivering in his. 

A pair of jeans, sturdy-looking boots, a cable knit sweater in the softest shade of pink, and a Sherpa-lined flannel. He looks around but can't see a backpack other than his own, a few feet away.

“Are you hiking here too?” He lets himself wonder aloud.

“No, I live here. I work here,” she tells him, “come along-- the snow has slowed down, but there's sure to be more of it, and I have absolutely no interest in catching a cold”. 

Rebecca's cabin is bigger than the one Ted stayed in last night, but it's nowhere near large. It's rustic by nature but decidedly comfortable-- lived in. It's clear she's made the place her own. 

The glow of a dimming fire casts a warm orange glow over the room, but blow glass wall sconces do most of the illumination work. There's a sitting area with a large leather sofa, softened by the chunky knit blanket draped over the back of it. A high-back armchair sits nearer to the fireplace. Across the room, is a small open kitchen, sage green cabinets, and a butcher block island. There's a baby pink kettle on the gas stove, and a quick sniff of the air smells like warm lemon. 

There's a bathroom at the end of a short corridor. Unlike the camper accommodations, this cabin has a staircase that Ted assumes leads up to the sleeping area. 

Ted accepts Rebecca's offer to take his coat from him, watching as she hangs it next to her own. He follows her lead toeing off his boots and setting them on the mat by the door. 

“Make yourself at home, get yourself warmed up,” she nods towards the fire. 

He does as he's told, lowering himself into the chair. He's beginning to feel the aftermath of his falls, tender spots all over his back and limbs he's sure will be black and blue tomorrow if they aren't already. His shoulder throbs but he pushes down the hiss of pain, finding a comfortable enough position to rest in.

“I really appreciate you takin’ me in like this,” Ted speaks for the first time since he entered her home, “I've read far too many online articles about people getting buried in avalanches-- most certainly how I'd like to go”.

“It's really not a problem,” she cuts his rambling short, putting the kettle on to boil again, “how do you take your tea?”

“I don't”.

She looks startled, borderline appalled for a moment before she speaks again, “sometimes I forget I'm the one with an accent here. Hot cocoa?” She tries again. 

“Ooh, yes please!” 

The drink warms him from the inside out. Conjuring images of winter's past. And it's easy to relax, breathing deeply and settling into the sound of the resumed inclement weather outside, and Rebecca shuffling around the kitchen. 

She checks over his injuries again. Still no sign of a concussion, and she clears him to sleep tonight. He can see the irony in the fact that this trip was one he was supposed to take alone, but he's never been one to turn away from making new friends. 

He sleeps on the couch, wrapped up in his sleeping bag, nice and cozy by the fire. 

The moonlight wakes him, trickling through the window. A quick glance outside shows him that the front porch and steps have been completely snowed over. The blanket of snow is a good foot deeper than yesterday, and he resigns himself to know he won't be getting back on the trail today. 

It's about a quarter after four when he checks his watch and he knows he's not getting back to sleep. He's been haunted by bouts of insomnia, and lack of sleep on and off his whole life; it's only gotten worse in the last year and a half. 

The first time he remembers it happening he was 16, about to turn 17. He'd gone from feeling like the whole world was his to explore, with a big exciting life ahead of him, to feeling like every room he walked into was collapsing around his ears. 

As a kid, he'd seen people lose people. Watched his parents and friends process loss. 

He'd been too young when his grandparents passed away to fully understand or process the grief, but he can remember his Ma crying in the kitchen, her face hidden in his father's chest. 

He'd had friends at school who had family pass away. When he was 13 or 14 the family dog Hank had to get out to sleep. Ted had cried himself to sleep that night. He'd lost one of his bestfriends. But none of that could've prepared him for the death of his own father. 

It had taken him months to accept that he needed help sleeping. The sound of a gun shoot ringing in his ears every time he closed his eyes. He ended up having to take medication for a couple of years to combat his insomnia. 

It hasn't been that bad in years, but stress still triggers him, leaving him waking at all hours, or staring at a ceiling waiting for a dreamland he knows isn't coming. 

Ted has learned to cope. He's found things that keep his hands and mind occupied. Today he bakes. He hopes that his socked footsteps on the floorboards are silent to a sleeping Rebecca upstairs, and he prays that his creations are enough to cancel out any potential intrusion or overstep as he makes himself at home in her tiny kitchen. 

He scrapes together enough flour, butter, and sugar to bake a batch of shortbread cookies, following the recipe he's had memorized since he was old enough to help out in the kitchen. 

The sun is just starting to peek through the curtain of the clouds when he pulls the cookies out the oven, letting them cool while he makes breakfast. He can hear her moving around upstairs now, and it only makes him smile, excited to present her with the delicious little biscuits, as she'd probably call them, he's crafted. 

The moment Ted had laid eyes on her, he trusted Rebecca. Kindred spirits almost. A meeting of fate. His father always told him, “there are a lot of people in this world. A lot of people you'll love, but for better or for worse there are some people you'll just know you were meant to meet”. 

Ted holds that philosophy close to his heart. He was always meant to be friends with Beard. Ted was meant to be a father, and he was certain he loved Henry king before he even existed.

In a lot of ways meeting Michelle felt like destiny. The only two people in the parking lot late at night. What were the odds? 

Separating from Michelle, and getting a divorce had felt like a stab straight to the heart. It challenged what he had always believed in. If he was meant to know her, then how could he lose her?

He chooses now to see it as a lesson. He sees now how he had a hunk himself down and held himself back to love her. They didn't fit together the way they should have. But loving her had taught him to see the good in the world again. Without Michelle, Ted wouldn't know Henry. And with that perspective he's learned to be grateful. 

This vacation, this hike, the snow, and his fall all lead him here. When he opened his eyes and saw Rebecca with her blonde hair and green eyes he'd labeled her an angel. She'd rescued him from more than just the snow. 

And now, as he scrambles eggs, and fries up some bacon, Ted knows he's more at ease than he has been in months. There's an instant familiarity, he wants to explore. He was meant to know Rebecca. 

“Did you make these?” Rebecca asks pointing at the perfect rectangular shortbread pieces on the counter. 

“Sure did!” Ted smiles, plating breakfast for the two of them, “I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to say thank you”.

She hesitated before lifting one to take a bite, and he watches eagerly. 

“Fuck me,” she mumbles, her fingers catching the escaping crumbs. Her eyes light up in a way he hasn't seen yet. Like a kid at Christmas, pure and genuine joy, and Ted can't help but wonder when she last felt this way. She shys away after her initial outbursts, as though she's embarrassed herself somehow. 

Ted's eyebrows shoot up and he allows himself to chuckle, “I've got some breakfast here for you as well”.

“You didn't have to, Ted. Thank you”.

“It was the least I could do,” he shrugs.

After breakfast, Ted showers, taking advantage of the hot water, and the superior water pressure. He layers up, putting a flannel over his thermal shirt, long johns under his jeans. 

Rebecca told him while they ate that she needed more firewood, and he was expected to help. It's been years since he chopped wood. The last time was probably one of his camping trips with his dad but he's beyond happy to be of use, especially if he's stranded here for at least another day. 

Rebecca is tall, strong, and powerful. Dressed in a navy blue snowsuit, her hair down in natural curls, contained only by her wool hat. She carries her ax on her shoulder, smirking at Ted's jokes about ax murders-- he's been watching too much true crime lately. 

There's a tree that's already been toppled and she quickly gets to work chopping away at the section that will be split into firewood. 

Definitely an angel.

 The forrest is beautiful. Even more stunning in the valley they stand in now, looking up at the hills, evergreen pines, dusted white. It’s silent, every sound muffled by the snow. Indescribably peaceful, and the company hes found himself in only adds to it. A part of him wishes he could stay here forever. 

When he takes over chopping the wood, his hand brushing hers as the ax changes hands, he distracts himself from the burn in unused muscles by asking Rebecca how a lovely English woman such as herself ended up in the American wilderness. 

“My friend from college, I call her Sassy, she’s an ecologist. And after I got divorced, I followed her out here with her daughter to help with some research she was doing,” Rebecca explains, stacking the firewood on the tiny sled she’d dragged out. 

He can tell by the way she hesitates to mention her divorce that it was probably pretty messy. Her shoulders drop, and he hates the way she makes herself smaller. “And you just stayed behind?” He asks, encouraging her to continue. He wants to know her.

“I fell in love with this place. I went home, but I kept coming back here. Hiked all the trails, saw all the sights. And then there was an opening for a summer guide and park coordinator. I took it”. “I bet you’re good at it,” Ted smiles, not missing the way she blushes. “I enjoy it. It’s a lot of kids, and families in the summer. And the coordination is mostly clerical,” she shrugs off the compliment. The ax back over her shoulder as they walk. 

She’s looking at him, watching him as they retrace their boot prints back to the cabin. He lets her have her moment, and ignores the way he’s cheeks feel warm under her gaze. 

Ted makes dinner. He takes his time cooking up stake and potatoes, getting Rebecca to help out cutting up carrots and root vegetables. Her laughter he’s learned is one of his favourite sounds, and he goes out of his way to do it. Rebecca is the most intoxicating mix of grace, and absolute silliness. She glows when she smiles, and it melts his heart. She dances through the kitchen as she twists the cork out of a bottle of wine, thrilled as she pours them each a glass. 

“This is by far the best dinner I’ve had in ages,” she sighs, starring down at her empty plate. “I appreciate you sayin’ that. It was the least I could do”. She shakes her head, at his refusal of her compliment, “I mean it”. “I know you do,” he smiles. 

The room is quiet, the crackle of the fireplace seems so loud when all he can hear is their breathing. “Rupert-- my ex. He was a real piece of shit,” Rebecca swallows before continuing, “And when I left him, I thought that all I really wanted was to be alone”. 

Ted nods. He can understand that mentality, though it saddens him to hear it. She’s so full of life, so vibrant, imagining her spending her days without anyone sharing in that joy breaks his heart. “It seems silly, saying it out loud, but even in this short amount of time, I feel like I’ve known you forever, Ted,” She confesses, “And at the risk of sounding cruel, or selfish, I’m glad you feel down that hill”. Ted can’t stop his laughter, “Rebecca, I have never been happier to have made a fool of myself”. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life If Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Nine: Life Carries On

Summary- 4.6k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. After Halloween proves to be a busy time for you, but you and Curtis manage to secure a Friday night date at Paulie's where you get your chance to talk to Edgar.

Warnings- Some mad and in Edgar's face Curtis. Curtis's death glare from across a bar? Yeah, that would be scary.

A/N- A nice calmer some healing from Edgar's disrespect. I would like to point out that our Reader is actually saying "I deserve better" and before that wouldn't have happened. Yay for growth! Thank you so much to everyone who reads and shares this personal series for me. @what-is-your-plan-today thank you for always giving it a once over. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Chapter Eight / Masterlist

Curtis arranged it so that you would pick him up after you were done at the school that day, meaning he could drive Edgar’s car to the train yard. After a perfect Sunday fixing some of the bullshit Edgar caused, Curtis was still wanting to wrangle the idiot's neck. 

Chubby Chaser, where the fuck did Edgar even get that bullshit? His mood darkened when he put the car in park and across the lot he saw others trot out of the office, pulling their jackets up to block the wind as the first day of November was not only raining, but it was mixing with sleet. The forecast was calling for snow by the end of the day. Before leaving that morning, he had checked your tires to make sure they would handle the snow and slush just fine. 

“Curtis, you do know I am from New England?” You huddled in your driver's seat while the car was warming up, watching as he checked the tread of your car before letting you leave. “My car is ready for winter.” Somewhere the chilly but still tolerable weather on Halloween night had taken a dramatic change and left you with almost winter temps on that November first morning.

He hummed in response as he pushed back up to a stand. “Sure, but have you ever had a Michigan winter? Wind coming off the lake drops down into the negatives almost immediately.” 

You narrow your eyes at him while pushing yourself back out of the car. Reaching up to straighten his jacket collar and smooth your hand against his chest. “Okay you got me, this is my first one, but I lived on Lake George. Granted it’s not one of the Great Lakes, but it is still pretty fierce in the winter. Also my father called me two weeks ago reminding me to get the tires put on. But I would have done it regardless, I swear. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

Curtis ran a knuckle under your chin and tilted your head up to meet him, placing a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I believe you Honey, sorry. I just want you to be safe, I know I might be over bearing but…” He drifted off, a grim smile was placed and you seemed to dawn in understanding; having lost his family in a car accident made him wary. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you nodded once more to assure him. 

“Feel free to check my tires everyday Curtis.” 

Curtis pressed his mouth to your forehead, hugging you in a silent thank you. “Come get me at the train yard afterwards? If it's not shitty out, I will take us out before you drop me off at home.” 

You broke into a smile. “Deal. Have a good day at work.” You gave a wave of your fingers as you slipped back in behind the driver's seat and pulled out of his driveway, turning towards the school across town. 

Curtis braced himself for Edgar as he made his way into the office. Tanya lifted her head from her computer while Curtis clocked in, she grabbed a clipboard and set it at the edge of her desk for Curtis to collect. While he flipped through the day's deliveries as well as the two freight cars that had seized wheels he needed to fix, he started muttering to himself about the scheduling mishaps. “Do they know we need more than fifteen minutes to unload those cars? Gilliam is out of his damn mind thinking we are gonna get it all off that quick in this weather.” 

Tanya waved her hand. “Forget that Curtis, is Y/N okay?” 

Curtis tucked the clipboard away, his face darkening. “She is perfectly fine, we spent a nice Sunday together.” 

Tanya was about to ask what the two of you did when Edgar slipped into the office, rubbing at his hands to warm them up. “Hey…” He said cautiously, Curtis dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them on the counter. 

“Cars in the lot.” 

“Listen man, I’m sorry for what I said. Can’t we put this behind us?” Edgar tried reasoning as he grabbed his car keys. Curtis rounded on his friend, making Edgar seem small as he backed up a step. Tanya watched wide eyed from behind the desk. Grey came in next, catching Curtis getting in Edgar’s face. 

“There is no putting it behind us Jackass. I had to convince Y/N that I was the lucky one to be with her. So no. You can fuck right off.” 

“Curtis I was drunk. Y/N has to know I’m basically an idiot.” Edgar protested as Curtis made a grab at his jacket, looking like he was ready to beat the shit out of him when Tanya clapped her hands to catch everyone's attention. 

“Hey! No fighting in my office.”

Grey moved in between them, separating the men. Curtis backed up, throwing his hands up to say he was done. “You wanna fix this Edgar? Apologize to Y/N and not some bullshit apology about how you were drunk. Fucking mean it. When she tells me she has forgiven you, maybe we can be good again. Till then, stay the fuck out of my way.” He pushed his way out of the office, leaving the three of them behind. 

“I’m so fucking screwed.” Edgar muttered and Tanya smacked at the back of his head, making him wince. 

“I can’t believe you did that shit Edgar, you are lucky I don't wring your neck.” She hissed while Grey nodded in agreement as he clocked himself in. 

“I was drunk!” 

“No fucking excuse.” 

Claude was waiting for you the moment you came in, holding out a tall cup of coffee. You took it gratefully while setting your bag down behind your desk. “You are a life saver.” 

“So I’ve been told.” She perched on the edge of your desk while you took care of your stuff before your students came in. “Did everything smooth out Sunday?” 

You paused, recalling Saturday night's disaster and how wonderful Sunday ended up being regardless. “Halloween was fantastic. Curtis and I handed out candy that night and we watched a scary movie.” 

Claude gave you a look, a look that called you out as a liar. “That's it huh?” 

You bit your lip and your face couldn't keep that innocent look anymore. “Of course not, he made it his personal mission yesterday to ruin me. I don’t know how I’m walking today.” 

That made Claude grin wickedly back. “I knew it, it's always those broody quiet types.” She wiggled her brows while sipping from her coffee. “Did he kill that little prick?” 

You sighed at the mention of Edgar. “No, and I feel kind of guilty. He is one of Curtis’s closest friends.” 

Claude rolled her eyes. “He was an ass.” 

“Absolutely agreed. I just feel bad about it.” 

“Well don’t, I’m glad the little prick got caught. That was disrespectful to you and Curtis.” 

You let that sink in a moment. All this time you thought about how it was affecting Curtis and not really what it meant to you, your mind seemed to block out that it was disrespectful to you as well. Not wanting to dwell on it much more, you turned the subject to her. “So, Grey… what do you think?” 

Her eyes lit up and she scrolled through her phone to show it to you. “Texted all day yesterday. I think we are gonna go on a date soon.” 

“Grey seems like a great guy every time I’ve ever met him. I’m sure you will have a great time.” 

“Yeah, I hope so. Umm, do you think it’s weird how close he seems to his baby mama?” She asked, genuinely curious and maybe wondering if that would be something to worry about. You came around the desk, holding your cup and sipping from it. 

“I mean, I just met Ella Saturday, but… no? Heck she was the one trying to introduce you two after she met you. I think genuinely they are just friends? But I really don’t know the situation there. I think that if you want to pursue this, you should ask Grey. He seems like a pretty straightforward kind of guy.” 

“I will see if I can casually bring it up in one of our conversations.” It was hard to miss the hopeful beam crossing Claude’s face. “I hope so, I really like him.” The bell rang and Claude checked the time. “Crap, I will catch up later.” She bounded off your desk, weaving through the students who were happily chatting about their weekends. Taking a few more moments to yourself, one last sip of your coffee and you grabbed the lesson plans of the day. 

The rest of the week and well into the next flew by for you. You and Curtis planned on meeting back up Friday night as you were in the middle of preparing for students for the first trimester switch over, grades needed to be finalized and notes written to parents. It meant long nights at the school with the rest of Mason Academy’s staffing team. 

But that didn’t mean Curtis didn’t still pop into your day to day life. You two would send texts through the day, he had taken to sending you snippets of whatever book he was reading, and midweek you came home to having a door dash appear with an order from a local chinese place that you two had gone to the week before, already paid in full. Opening it up, you found your order from that date and then some extra so you would have at least a few meals out of it. Plucking out a spring roll, you snapped a picture of you taking a bite of the crispy roll and sent it to Curtis. 

Thank you for dinner. It was such a hectic day. 😮‍💨

I figured Honey, enjoy your meal. 

You were thoroughly looking forward to going out Friday night, having suggested hitting up Paulie’s that night. Curtis would be able to make a few extra bucks helping bartend, Claude had messaged you that she was planning on meeting up with Grey there, and you were more than willing to throw darts as a stress reliever- picturing a few choice parents' faces as the bullseye. Curtis was happy to go along with whatever you wanted to do. You offered to meet him there, and when you arrived, you found him already behind the bar. Claiming a spot at the end, you settled in to watch him work and openly check him out as it had been a few weeks since the last bartending flirting session, the memory of it making a spiral of arousal settle in your belly. 

A too tight in the shoulders white henley shirt stretched across his chest, your eyes roving down to strong forearms flexing as he worked the line of taps. You saw the flash of a laugh in his usual serious features, it looked like he had given himself a fresh cut, your palms twitched, knowing how soft it would be right now to run your hands over. Handing over a beer with a coaster, he wiped his hands on a towel that he had hooked in the back pocket of his jeans when he came to where you were seated. Curtis was able to easily reach over the bar counter to hook a hand against the back of your neck and lean in to give you a kiss. “Go claim us a table and I will be right over? You want anything from the kitchen?” 

“Mmhh, whatever you are in the mood for. Claude messaged me earlier, her and Grey are going to stop in later.” 

Curtis prepared a pitcher for the two of you as well as some glasses. “Yes, he mentioned it to me earlier they would be stopping in. Seems Ella ended up playing matchmaker Halloween weekend.” 

“Yup, and I couldn’t be more pleased about it. Claude hasn’t stopped talking about Grey since that night” You grinned as you collected the stuff Curtis handed to you. “See you in a minute, Handsome.” Leaving the bar, you were able to find a table over by the darts, which you poured the beer in the frosty mugs, collected darts and suddenly a pair of arms circled around your waist and scruff scratched at your neck while a pair of lips smoothed against a sweet little spot behind your ear. Curtis’ hard body pressed in behind you, enveloping you with his warm scent. “Mmhh I missed you.” 

You tilted your head back enough to share a kiss. “It was a crazy week, I wouldn’t have been much fun.” Curtis ran his hands along your hips, giving a squeeze and pulling you back into him a moment while nipping another kiss before letting you go so you both could sit at the little table. He had brought a small appetizer tray to go with the pitcher you had brought with you. Grabbing a chip to dunk it in some salsa, you bit into it while he took a drag off the beer. “Next couple isn’t going to be any better.” 

“What’s gonna be going on?”

 “Got some parent teacher conference days coming up. But I don’t want to discuss school anymore. How was your week? You listened to me bitch all week about mine.” 

His eyes crinkled at you in amusement and gave a wink. “Typical, bullshit at the yard with scheduling. Tanya fishing for details about what we're up to, spent a few nights working on the Camaro.” 

“You have to break Tanya’s heart?” You chuckled a bit while wiping your fingers clean, Curtis reached for some of the saucy wings, giving a shrug while grinning. 

“I might have let her think something was going on, all her own conclusion. I just neither denied nor confirmed it.” 

You snorted in laughter at him. “You didn’t!” 

“I sure as hell did, she wants to be nosy, she can think what she wants.” He licked his lips clean while setting the bone aside, grabbing at your napkin that you used earlier and wiped at his mouth and fingers. 

“How have things been at work with Edgar?” You asked after a few moments, studying the small appetizer tray, but sneaking a look at Curtis to try and gauge his response while taking the complimentary celery stick and nibbling on it. 

Curtis shook his head. “Fuck him, told him to leave me alone.” Your heart sank a bit, but you remembered what Claude had said earlier about remembering how utterly disrespectful it had been to you and Curtis. You reached across the table and gave a light squeeze before pulling yourself up to a stand and going around the small table to hug around his neck, his arm instinctively went around your waist and pulled you in close. “Don’t let that dumbass take up any more of our night, Honey. You gonna try beating me at darts?” 

“What do I get if I do?” You bit at your lip and distracted him momentarily, his pupils widening at the sight. Large hands clasped your ass and gave a firm squeeze that made you arch a bit. “Also ‘try’? Listen, I already know I’m gonna kick your ass Everett.”  

“Whatever you want Honey, but I’m winning. When I win, you are coming home with me.” 

You smirked feeling him grab at you, sure as shit that he was going to get what he wanted. You wrapped your hand in the chain hanging around his neck and pulled him in closer till you were inches away. “Well fuck Curtis, that was what I was going to pick. Guess if I win, my prize is your cock.” You took great pleasure at the way his eyes widened in surprise and you pulled him in rest of the way to give him a tongue teasing kiss, drawing out a groan from deep in his chest and his hands digging harshly into your ass to hold you close to him, it was when you pulled away, you felt his eyes following you hungrily while you went to the throw line and take aim with your darts. As you took your shot, you heard him muttering to himself. 

“Fucking Christ woman, you just spring that on me and then go shoot knowing now you are gonna win.” 

You grinned to yourself as you took aim once more, sure to give a slight shake of your waist just to hear him groan behind you once more like he was in pain while you let the dart go. You did pretty good for someone still learning you thought to yourself as Curtis came up next to you, sputtering under his breath while taking aim himself. 

His bicep bulged as his arm lifted and his fingers fit around the dart while taking his aim. Sure you might have been distracting to him, but you had to really work at it. Curtis, it just came natural. You stood behind him while drinking in the wide legged stance he was comfortable with, long legs led up to the best looking ass in a pair of black jeans you have ever seen, that had to be cinched tight with a belt. The plain white tee he wore stretched across a broad back that hid nothing in the way he flexed, his shoulders shifting with the lift of an arm. It was enough to make you suck on your bottom lip to stifle the moan of appreciation, his head tilting slightly to look back at you. 

You must have made a noise of some kind, because the rest of your body was getting hot and bothered. Crystalline blues sparked with amusement and you could see the way the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. Turning back to take the next shots, you escaped back to your table to find refuge in your mug of beer, wondering if the rush of alcohol could possibly save you now. 

You were tipping your head back to drain the last few swallows when Curtis squeezed his hand against your hip while going to take his own, that one brow of his quirking up. “Now you know what you make me feel every damn time Honey. Fucking hell makes me want to bend you right over this table.” 

You snorted in surprise, covering your mouth to keep your composure as you glared at Curtis who busted into an easy laugh. The push and pull between you two was so easy going that time passed without a notice, a couple empty pitchers littering your table as well as the remains of used napkins and half full glasses. You two were taking a break from playing darts, Curtis sitting in one of the tall chairs made for the table, you were standing between his spread thighs, whispering to him how you couldn’t wait to get him home, running your hands up his covered chest and flirting with him till his jaw was clenching while keeping himself in check, his own hands sliding over your ass and giving very firm squeezes. 

Suddenly he stilled though, his gaze falling over your shoulder and hardening. You pulled back in worry. “Curtis, what's wrong?” You glanced around and saw what had him closing up on you. Edgar leaned against the bar, chatting with Paulie. Turning back to him, you grasped his chin and tilted him to look towards you. “I’m not upset about it anymore. He was being a dumbass like you said.” 

Curtis grunted slightly, an arm tightening slightly around you almost possessively. “That he is.” 

“So, you gotta let this anger go Curtis, can’t let him ruin our night.” You nudged at him slightly and his eyes narrowed. 

“I already told him that when he made it up to you, then I wouldn't think about wringing his neck.” 

You pulled back slightly while considering what he said. Untangling yourself from around him, Curtis made to grasp back at you, but you dodged his hands while gathering the emptied pitchers and cups. 

“Be right back.” 

“Y/N…” He tried getting you to stop, but you shook your head at him and told him that you would only be a minute and to stay right there. With a look of resignation he did stay, but you could see him simmering about it. Pulling up beside Edgar, you unloaded the dirty dishes. 

“Can we get another round Paulie?” The man broke from his conversation with Edgar and went to refill a pitcher. 

Edgar turned towards you, eyes darting to where Curtis was across the room and back to you. “Y/N, I was hoping to bump into you tonight.” 

You made yourself comfortable next to him, nodding. “I figured as much, we have to talk. Edgar. I have some things I need to tell you as well.” 

“First let me apologize for Halloween Y/N.” Edgar started. “I was so out of line and I honestly don’t even know where it came from. I swear I don’t believe that at all and it was such an asshole thing of me to say.” 

You nodded in agreement. “It was out of line Edgar, I didn’t deserve that and Curtis didn’t either. You are his friend and should be happy for him.” You turned to face the younger man, ready to lay into him. “What Curtis and I like and don’t like is nobody's business but our own, my weight is most certainly nothing you should ever be concerning yourself about and it really hurts that you would imply that the only reason your friend would be interested in me is because of that. You don’t even know me Edgar and right now all I know about you is that you are a judgemental bastard and not a very good friend to Curtis.” He went to start again and you cut him off. “I also know Curtis isn’t ready to forgive you until I do, so I really want to know if you are sorry Edgar, actually sorry. I want to know where that came from.” You paused when Paulie came over and left the pitcher. When he left, picking up the hint that you and Edgar were having a private discussion, you turned back to Edgar, waiting on an answer. 

You could tell that he was uncomfortable, which is what you wanted. This conversation wasn’t supposed to be easy for him. You deserved an honest answer and you weren’t planning on giving him the usual brush off you always did in the past when it came to these kinds of situations, you were done with being treated less because you weren’t what was considered average. “I was drunk, but that’s not why I said it.” Edgar’s gaze dropped to the bar in shame. “I saw how happy Curtis was, like genuinely happy for the first time in a long time and I was jealous.” 

You frowned while listening to him. “You were jealous of Curtis?” 

“Yup, pathetic right? He is one of my closest friends and it stung like a son of a bitch that he got to have that with you and I wanted it. You just dropped into his life and suddenly things just seemed better for him.” 

“Well you are not going to meet someone by being a shallow dick like that.” You pointed out and Edgar lifted his gaze to meet yours. 

“I deserved that.” 

“You did, none of us are going to be perfect. Picking apart someone's flaws is going to do nothing but leave you lonely and miserable.” 

“I know, I felt like shit afterwards and I regret even thinking about it, let alone saying it. In fact, I got you something to hopefully make up for ruining your party. You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to, I understand if you tell me to eat shit and fuck off. But I really do want you and Curtis to have this.” He handed you over a slip of paper. You unfolded it and read the business header on the top. 

“Lakeside Cabins?” You questioned while looking over the rest of the paper. 

“Yes, any weekend you want, it’s all paid for. You just have to call them to reserve the date. I know its not alot, but I thought a weekend away can replace the one I fucked up.” He said seriously and you were shocked for a moment at what he was giving you. 

“Wow Edgar… this is… thank you.” You refolded the paper. “I’m sure Curtis will appreciate this as well.” 

The man gave a small smile at your reaction, brushing his hand at the back of his neck and shrugged a bit, but looked relieved at that moment. “Well like you said, I was being a judgemental bastard and that's not who I want to be. I’m really happy for Curtis and want to be friends with you as well.” 

You let all he said sink in and felt that it was genuine. Holding out your hand for him, you gave a smile. “I would like that to Edgar, let’s start over?” Edgar gave a nod and shook your hand. Grabbing the pitcher of beer, you tilted your head over to your table where you knew Curtis was studying the two of you closely. “You should come over sometime and play a game with us.” You glanced at Curtis and bit at your lip to hide a smile at the absolutely stone cold way he glared over at the two of you. “If you want to risk it.” 

Edgar gave a small wave over to Curtis, who gave a sharp small nod in acknowledgment. “Maybe…we will see. I probably better let you go first, keep me safe.” He joked, which made you laugh and gently clasp your hand against his shoulder before moving to a stand. 

“Don’t be a chicken shit, Edgar.” 

“You’re not the one who's being threatened to get his head ripped off by both the Everett’s. Ella has already threatened to make my body disappear.” Edgar groaned out as you left him behind, going to join Curtis once more. Sitting in the seat next to him, you slid the piece of paper over to him. 

“You can stop giving him the death glare, I think he is really sorry.” You informed him while he curiously opened up the paper to look at it. You scooted your chair closer while he read the information to himself, leaning your head against his arm. 

“He gave you this?” Curtis flipped the paper to see if there was anything on the back and then looked at it again. “These are about an hour drive from here, nice little places from what I can tell.” 

“Yup, any weekend we would like to go. A way of trying to fix the weekend he ruined he said.” Curtis handed over the paper and you folded it back up to tuck it away for safekeeping. “Paid in full.” 

“I guess that was nice of him.” Curtis grumbled out, grabbing at the pitcher and pouring two glasses for the both of you. 

“I thought it was and I also told him I forgave him.” You lifted your head from his arm and took the beer glass for him, tilting up to press a kiss against his bristled cheek. “But that doesn't mean you should until you are ready, Curtis. As Claude pointed out to me, it wasn't just disrespectful to me, but to you as well.” Grabbing at your darts, you left him sitting there, pondering over what you said while you went to finish off the last game of the night.

[blouisparadise]

We realized it’s been a while since our first canon rec list came out, so we decided to create a second part to it! We hope you enjoy these fics. If you enjoy BLP making rec lists, please be sure to reblog this post to spread the word. Happy reading!

1) That Summer Feeling | Explicit | 2093 words

"It was still a lazy summer evening, the sun was still floating in the sky and the balcony window was letting in a warm breeze. Harry thumbed at Louis’ hipbone, easing his lips off Louis’ skin just to mumble “Turn over, darling.” Louis cracked a small smile, turning over slowly and revealing the back half of his naked body. Harry’s tongue felt too big for his mouth. He swallowed as he took in the sight. He’d never get tired of this."

2) The Sucking Method | Explicit | 2668 words | Sequel #1 | Sequel #2 | Sequel #3

Louis tries to quit smoking, but none of his methods work. Harry comes up with a new idea that involves lots of sucking.

3) Spirit Meets The Bones | Explicit | 3220 words

The action shouldn’t fill his eyes with tears but it does. These small gestures mean the world to him. A steady reminder that Harry does notice all the tiny, seemingly insignificant details that make Louis him.

4) Blue Eyes, Black Jeans, Lighters, Candy | Explicit | 3629 words | Sequel

Harry is in Madrid and Louis had a hard week.

5) This Is Where I Sleep | Explicit | 3678 words

Harry and Louis go camping while on break and make some memories.

6) A Touch of Your Love | Explicit | 3856 words

Harry needs to work out. Louis wants him to pay attention to him. They find a compromise.

7) We’ve Got A Vicious Streak | Explicit | 4073 words

In the aftermath of 1DDay, Harry finds a way to help Louis relax.

8) The Sound Of Silence | Explicit | 4272 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Early the next morning, Louis had been scrolling through Twitter when he first saw the wild conspiracy.

“What if the person in the VIP box is actually Xander?”

Louis had almost choked on his coffee. Xander? Of all the people Harry had been connected to over the last few years, this person was speculating Harry was secretly in love with Xander Ritz?

9) Cherries In The Snow | Mature | 5151 words

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Harry is not in the mood. So naturally, Louis lets Harry paint his body with kiss marks to make him feel better.

10) At The End Of My Rope | Mature | 5608 words

The one where they go to Crete and Harry is definitely hiding something.

11) Just Stop Your Crying (It's a Sign of the Times) | Explicit | 5864 words

My own imagining of the inspiration for Sign of the Times.  Featuring boys in love, even after all this time.

12) Maybe My Heart’s Numb | Mature | 6007 words

"Lou."

He breathes in sharply and turns to his right, the source of the voice just having sat down. "Yeah?" he asks softly, trying to get his voice to come out as evenly as possible.

Harry stares at him with an unreadable look on his face, then looks down. Louis' gaze follows.

 Oh.

Harry's holding his right hand, a completely burnt out cigarette lying underneath it.

13) Singing Your Praises | Explicit | 6226 words

Prompt 86: Louis rides Harry while wearing his packer’s jersey/sweater and gets his ass ate.

14) The Window To The Soul | Explicit | 6925 words

Harry comes off stage at iHeart 2017 and really needs a bit of physical affection.

15) PDA: Public Displays of Arousal | Mature | 7281 words

"He soon ventured out on a relaxing stroll along the damp shore, pouting down at the very dainty size of the footprints he made in the wet sand. He could already picture Harry making a large footprint right next to it just to coo at their very distinct size difference, and Louis didn’t know whether to grin or grimace. He looked up from the ground to observe the colorful assortment of tents and umbrellas from the people scattered along the sand, and the people themselves were-

Well, they were all naked."

16) Cease The Day | Explicit | 8195 words

In which 1D Day takes on a whole new meaning.

Instead of a seven hour livestream, the One Direction team deem it more profitable to offer an entire day spent with any one member of the band for the highest bidder. What happens when the same buyer wins both Louis and Harry for a day?

17) Little White Lies | Explicit | 10450 words

Louis makes an off hand comment in an interview then comes home to find Harry has laid his old braces out on their bed.

18) Tomorrow You Won’t Be Mine | Explicit | 13592 words

Louis and Harry were larry, until they broke up and weren’t. Years into the hiatus Louis finds himself in Philadelphia for a music festival, completely unaware that Harry has a show that night there too until fans start to freak out online. Louis has things to get off of his chest about their break up all those years ago and turns up to Harry’s concert without notice, leaving Harry in complete shock. Feelings overwhelm them both, leading to a night where they realise just how much they missed eachother...

19) With the Certainty Of Tides | Mature | 13980 words

“Love you,” Louis whispered in the dark. He didn’t know what time it was or where the light had gone, he knew that he was in Harry’s arms, basking in the afterglow of all their love and he’d be a fool to not tell Harry that. As if Harry didn’t know.

“Love you,” was whispered back, as if Louis didn’t know. They confessed to each other as if it was their first time saying it, raw and painful, and listened to it the very same way, but they knew those words to be the only ones true.

With all the certainty of the tides, with all the light from the sun, with all the steady beats of their hearts, they were deftly in love, in secret and so loudly. They were brave and fearless and strong and hopelessly devoted in every sense of their breaths.

“We made it, baby,” Harry mumbled, bringing their lips into a final kiss, sweet and soft and the color of pink. They already knew that, didn’t fight tooth and nail and argued through every petty year and bleed their hearts into the words they sang and on their skin for them to have not made it home.

They were home.

20) Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) | Not Rated | 16683 words

The one where Harry wants a little more in the bedroom and has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

21) Oblivious | Explicit | 19096 words

Where Louis gets a little crush on Luke and for some reason Harry starts acting weird.

22) Late Night Devil (Put Your Hands On Me) | Explicit | 20086 words

Harry Styles has always put up with him. With every snip of attitude, every idiotic act of stubbornness, every harsh and sour word. Each time Louis thinks he's stepped too far, clung too tight, bitten too hard, Harry is there to forgive him, to protect him, to hold him. Maybe he was naive to think that, no matter how hard he pushed, Harry would never move.

Maybe he should have seen it coming.

23) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

24) Pink In The Night | Explicit | 32324 words

His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before Harry could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis. I miss you. Do you miss me?

Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response.

It pained him to admit that this was their new normal.

25) What’s Mine Is Yours To Make Your Own | Mature | 39919 words

Sometimes, the closest Harry ever feels to home is Louis. It’s their shared hotel rooms on tour, their shoes toed off in the doorway next to each other, jackets hung on the same post. It’s everything he doesn’t notice until it’s been taken away from him.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[ultimatetornshipper]

To bee or not to bee - a Jasonette fic

@moonlitceleste I almost let this die, I honestly really wanted it dead but alas it was clearly meant to bee 

(WARNING: contains puns, angst, crack and fluff. You have been warned)

If you don’t want to read my sarcastic/funny/fangirl commentary, skip the brackets

I have another bee movie au, i didn't plan it ("I don't claim to be proud. But my head won't be hung in shame. I didn't plan it. But the light turned red, and I ran it. And I'm still standing. It's not what I wanted, but now that it's right here. I understand it. A story written by my own hand" as quoted from Waitress), it just happened and i just couldn't resist. I'm not sorry

So what if instead of dying Joker turned Jason into a bee. Because Harley convinced him and told him that people were talking shit about him because he's named the Joker and they don't think he's funny. It surprisingly works. (Obviously Harley was the one who made the plan and did the magic I mean really what do u expect of Joker?)

Ok so now Jason’s a bee right? And he’s like 15 because .~:°*plot*°:~.

They look for him and Jason’s like flying around like, “Guys! Guys I’m right here!” Poor kid. (I mean I would make it funny but like angst)

Obviously they don’t understand him because he’s a fucking bee and Joker cackles madly and Harley laughs too but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and it's kinda that laugh u do when ur supes overwhelmed and sound maniacal but like soft (I’m a simp for Harley being portrayed as the complex and beautiful character she id leave me be)

Jason is very sad. And also quite pissed

Not knowing what else to do he follows Batman home, he listens to them trying to find him, watches Dick freak out and Alfred wipe a tear the rest of the family doesn’t see.

Jason tries to approach Alfred, hoping he somehow recognizes what happened

He doesn’t, Alfred closes him in a glass and paper and takes him outside.

He sneaks back into the manor and sleeps in one of the flowers (it's a red tulip because aesthetic) next to his bed. He cries himself to sleep. (Can bees cry? Is this possible? Is this like a thing??? I don't need sleep i need answers)

The thing is even tho he's now a bee, he still has the durability of a human, so even stepping on him won’t crush him and he still has a human lifespan

Because Harley isn’t a monster and what Puddin didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. (Simping for Harley Quinn strike 2)

After a while at the manor and following them he decides he can’t stand it anymore. Alfred has thrown him out three times and Dick freaks out each time he sees him as he’s a tad allergic (read: he would die if stung)

Which is how Jason found out that getting hit with a newspaper wouldn’t kill him.

He leaves.

He’s a bee and it’s not like he knows about a way to reverse it.

But there was someone who might.

He goes to Arkham.

Luckily, Harley was still there. (YAY we get to see mah gurl)

He flies into her cell and she just watches him, then she seems to click. She gives him a small smile, “Hi birdie,” (she puns, honestly would make for a better clown of Gotham and I saw an idea for that once where she steals Joker’s title once and I’ve been yearning for it ever since)

She holds out a finger and he lands on it, she laughs but tears come to her eyes,” Hey at least you’re not dead. That was his original plan you know? To kill you with a crowbar. I convinced him this would be a cruller fate. I guess maybe it is, but at least this way... Ugh how the hell did I get here,” (Harley angst, honestly it’s all just self service at this point)

He simply stared at her as she cried, and he felt his heart clench. From here she looked so sad... not crazy, just broken.

She took a deep breath and looked at him seriously, “Look kid, there’s a way to get you back to normal, you just need to find someone, they’re called the Guardian of the Miraculous. They can help, I don’t know who or where they are, just follow your instincts. And come say hi when you get back, yeah? I could do with the... healthier company. And remember, I bee-lieve in you,” (Gasp what a shock, you mean to tell me Miraculous magic is gonna be involved in this Maribat au. Well I never what a shock. Also puns. Oh and she’s so nice to him. We love Harley in this house)

He sat there and studied her for a while more, there was more to her than it seemed. Than what he’d assumed.

But for now, he had his own problems to deal with.

She gave him a small wave as he left. (Adorable)

He left and started considering his options, as a bee, it would probably be safest to stay inside, away from birds and things that would view him as a snack.

Staying in Arkham seemed like his best option, as bad an option as it was.

Most of the prisoners wouldn’t have a second thought about trying to crush him.

A strong scent of flowers and plants suddenly came to his attention.

Of course! Poison Ivy. (Round 2 of me simping for beautiful, complex, badass women. Too bad Catwoman ain’t here.)

He followed the smell to her cell and saw her staring out of her small window. He was still taking a chance, but she loved plants and flowers and bees were important to those, weren’t they?

He flew to the window bars and sat on one. The moment she spotted him she smiled widely, in a soft way he hadn’t seen on her before. (Ahhhhh my darling plant redhead. I love writing the Sirens as soft badasses. Also has anyone noticed how rare brunettes are in superhero worlds? Like both in Marvel and DC but like irl brown is like a pretty damn common)

She held out her finger, “Hey there, little guy. A little far from home, aren’t we?”

She had no idea.

He landed on her fingertip and watched in awe as a flower and a few leaves formed on her hand. She let the flower grow itself around one of her window bars and held her finger next to one of the petals.

“There you go, it’s all I can manage with my power dampers. I haven’t had company in a while,” she said softly as he crawled into the flower. He made himself comfortable.

She laughed to herself and he saw her shaking her head, “Talking to a bee, well, I guess stranger things have happened,” (yeah ur crush is dating a green haired murderous psychopath and you get beat up by a billionaire in a batsuit on like a biweekly basis)

The flower was soft and warm and felt safer than he expected it to. He found that he could move between the petals but decided to curl up in the middle. (It's a pink rose this time because fuck yeah flowers)

He slept better than he had in days.

The next morning he took his leave, stopping only at the manor to say a mental goodbye.

Then he headed off.

Jason flew a lot the first few months, our boy was smart at least, travelling with a cruise ship on its way to Europe.

It was Spring in the Northern Hemisphere so he had until Autumn until it was in his best interest to head south to avoid the snow. He decided to head towards Africa when summer started coming to an end. (I have no reasoning for this, just that I want to)

His first spot would be the United Kingdom. Then he'd go through the rest of Europe following his instincts.

At least it was Spring.

Jason diligently searched through England, Scotland and Ireland but found nothing.

By the time he was done he realized it was time to start heading South. He’d decided to take another cruise to South-Africa, where it would be summer, he searched through the country until April. He would admit that he didn’t feel drawn to anything in any of their 9 provinces so his search wasn’t as diligent as in England. He didn’t feel anymore drawn to the neighbouring countries like Namibia or Botswana either.

(Once again no reasoning for why I picked these countries, I mean the French Hugonotes went there when they were fleeing from the French Catholics who wanted them dead so I guess I could make up some bullshit about Mari having an ancestor in common with someone there or maybe it was just the ship he could easiest get access I don’t know, you make something up)

Which was why he decided to go back to Europe as soon as April hit.

He hitched another ride on a cruise headed for France.

It’s been a year since he got turned into a damn bee.

He was sixteen now and while he’d seen some amazing things all through South-Africa (a place that proves that humans really do have a weirdly obvious way of naming things I mean the Amazon river and Chad Lake are just more examples really) as well as the United Kingdom, all he really wanted was to go back home, to be human again.

When he gets there he diligently makes his way through France, eventually arriving in Paris.

He lands on the tip top of the Eiffel Tower. As in the point of the antenna because why not.

During his year he realized that birds and other animals tended to avoid him, sensing his strangeness so that was at least one positive.

He stared out over the city. Well, the one good thing about this was definitely the views he’s been allowed to see.

That was until a massive explosion hit.

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, searching for the source. No one understood him, human or bee, but talking to himself reminded him of his humanity.

He found the source of the explosion but just as he started flying to its general direction, a blinding white light shone followed by a horde of ladybugs that were fixing everything that was wrong. (Imagine how scary this would lowkey be irl tho? Just a shit ton of Ladybugs descending on Paris my dude)

He decided that he needed a night’s sleep before he could even begin an attempt at deciphering what had just happened. He flew lower, finding a nice little balcony right above a bakery. And it had flowers. (I’ll give u five seconds to guess who this balcony belongs to)

He flew down, exploring.

He turned around when he heard a loud thump from behind him. What appeared to be a super heroine in red spandex with black spots had landed on the balcony.

She detransformed and started to talking to a floating bug- fairy thing. Strange. Though it wasn’t like he could judge, as an ex superhero sidekick who was thought to be dead but was actually a bee.

She disappeared down her trapdoor and he made himself comfortable in one of her flowers.

He slept soundly until somewhere during a night another thump woke him. He looked out of his sleeping spot to see a cat superhero stand on her balcony. He leaned down and knocked on her small trapdoor.

Ah, a teammate of hers, they were probably meeting about something, he thought as he heard her open up.

It didn’t take him long to realize that even though they were teammates, the cat, Chat Noir he later learned, was not aware of this fact.

Oh this was rich.

He couldn’t bee-lieve his eyes. (ok so Jason used self-referential puns but can you really blame him? It’s really just me and my pun problem so don’t blame the kid)

He was going on and on about his feelings for Ladybug, the girl’s hero form, that were clashing with his feelings for another girl he fenced with, while she listened, clearly fed up with it.

He also claimed that he thought that maybe they were one and the same. Which, to Jason, was hilarious as he was literally saying this to the actual Ladybug’s face.

Marinette- he learned from the Cat’s ongoing blabbering, he was a real blab-bee mouth, - was clearly tired, nodding half asleep, probably having heard it all before.

When he finally left Jason went to sleep again, incredibly amused and even more thankful that he was fluent in French. ( u think this is plot convenience? Just u wait mah dude iz about to get worse)

The next morning he decided to follow her to school. Which was how he learned of her huge crush on a boy named Adrien Agreste.

After learning the boy could fence thanks to Marinette’s obsession interest in him, he got suspicious.

Could it really bee? (not a typo)

After seeing the boy transform a month or two later for patrol he laughed like he hadn’t for over a year. It very much was. He'd spent the time staying on Marinette's balcony and decided to stay another week before moving on and continuing his search, after all, he couldn't stop now that he finally felt like he was getting close.

The next day she got home crying, claiming that Adrien had started dating someone else.

Kagami, she called the girl. Probably the fencer if he had to place a bet.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Tikki told the girl.

“That boy's an idiot,” he said, speaking his mind, another thing he’d gotten use to being allowed to do without consequence.

Marinette nearly jumped out of her skin, she looked around and he realized that she could hear him. He hadn’t really spoken too much before, at least not when she was around. He was usually content with watching her do whatever she was doing that day.

“Tikki, did you hear that?” she asked, Tikki nodded, her eyes landing on him.

“Oh,” the kwami said softly, flying over to him, “Oh, you poor thing, who did this to you?” (Tikki is the first ever mom friend and u can fight me on this)

He stared up at her, flying so that they were eye level.

Marinette gaped at them, heartbreak seemingly forgotten, “Tik- Tikki, are- who are you talking- are you talking to a – Tikki is that a bee?!” she finally spluttered out.

“No,” Tikki said, studying him, he felt his heart twist in hope and his stomach roll in surprise. Did she know?

“I mean yes, but no. He’s a boy whose been turned into a bee,” Tikki explained, turning back to Marinette.

“Oh,” Marinette said softly, turning to him. She held her hand out and after some hesitation he landed on her finger. She looked at him then back to Tikki.

How did they know? Would he really be that lucky? Was this real?

“Uhm, how?” she said, staring at him in disbelief. He tried shrugging but realized he couldn’t anymore- beecause of his- well if you haven’t caught on to the fact that he’s a bee by now you should really start from the beginning of this story.

“I don’t know, but Joker and Harley Quinn were involved,” he said.

Marinette stared at him in disbelief, blinking a few times. She sat in shock a few moments longer. (Our darling is an awkward lil bean, and while in media awkward is portrayed as cute, irl it isn’t, it’s just well… awkward. And we’re writing a serious and realistic fic about this sidekick of guy who wears a batsuit/billionaire's ward getting turned into a bee and falling in love with a magical girl fighting a butterfly man- none of this unrealistic nonsense)

Tikki flew over and sat on Marinette’s shoulder while her holder processed the information, the kwami stared at him sweetly, “What’s your name?”

He swallowed, he hadn’t said his name in ages, it stirred up something (emotion, it’s called emotion, Jason, you know? The thing Batman can’t process??) in him, “Jason Todd,”

Marinette seemed to finally snap out of her daze, “That sounds American. Are you American? Wait if Joker and Harley are involved then you’re probably from Gotham. Are you? Wait I’ve seen the name Jason Todd somewhere. Weren’t you some rich guy’s ward? It was all over the news last year, Alya wouldn’t stop talking about it for a month, she had a million theories. He was – you were announced dead two months after Robin was taken captive by Joker, everyone thought he was – you were killed. Joker made outrageous claims as they arrested him... saying that they’d never find Robin... that he’d all but disappeared in thin air... that he wouldn’t be the only one wearing stripes... I remember because he put a really weird emphasis on the words be and stripes and...,” her eyes widened and she gasped as she looked at him in what could only be described as pure shock. (Yes this happens, people can talk for this long and since I personally know headcannon that Marinette is ADHD this long ass paragraph is just another Tuesday bud)

He sat there, surprised that she figured it all out so quickly. (yeah bub it’s called plot convenience and it’s because of me, the writer, I don’t wanna focus on secret ID shenanigans, I got other plans for yall, also Mari is smart, don’t underestimate her)

“You’re Robin,” she breathed, “they turned you into a bee. Wait- How the hell did they turn you into a bee?!”

He chuckled, “Bee-lieve me I’ve been asking myself that question for more than a year,”

She bit her lip, seemingly contemplating his words and ignoring his pun, “Tikki do you know anything that could help? Do you think Miraculous magic-,”

He felt his heart stop, he flew up to her face, flying at eye level, “Wait, did you just say Miraculous? Harley said if I could find the Guardian of the miraculous, they could help me, do you know where they are? I’ve been looking for so long,” (‘°;~*.plot convenience.*~;°’)

Marinette blinked at him and Tikki's face dawned with realization.

“I’m the guardian of the miraculous,” Marinette said softly, “Tikki, that means I can help him, right?”

Tikki nodded and he had to dial down the hope in his heart because the look on her face told him there was a Kim Kardashian sized butt on the way.

“We can help him, but we’re gonna have to wait. (don��t look at me like that, do u want them to have time to bond or not?) You’re not trained enough to pull it off yet. If you were to do it now, all three of us would be out of commission for far too long, especially with Hawkmoth on the prowl,” Tikki said.

They must’ve been able to sense his sadness because they were staring at him with an incredible amount of pity. The amount was quite unsettling actually and he suddenly felt a primal like urge to pun. (An extract from my book: “My unhealthy coping mechanisms and how to use them,” specifically Chapter 8: “Humor hides the pain”)

Suddenly Tikki’s face lit up, the whiplash of her expression change throwing any notion of punning out the window.

“Well, there’s one thing we could do,” she said, excitedly, zipping buzzing around “If he wears a miraculous, he'll return back to human form while transformed,”

Marinette perked up at the idea, but confusion soon overtook her features, “But Tikki, most of the miraculous are bigger than he is,”

Tikki waved her away,” It’s fine it’ll work,”

“Ok,” Marinette said after a bit of thought. She stood and he followed while she started climbing down her skylight,” I’m thinking you can try each of them out for different patrols and then we’ll see which one matches you best. This could be fun, having some fun sized company while figuring out how to defeat Hawkmoth,”

He laughed, flying near her ear, “Fun sized, huh? I’ll have you know I’m considered tall in human form, unlike some of us,”

She laughed and rolled her still tear stained eyes, and so, the beginning of a bee-autiful friendship bloomed.

Marinette walked to her closet and Jason took in her room. It was very pink, but in a well-balanced way - it wasn’t completely overbearing. His eye caught on a few pictures of Adrien Agreste on her wall but figured now wouldn’t be a great time to bring it up. (Look he’s already more emotionally aware, #foreshadowing of character development)

She removed a big box from her closet. She opened it and it was filled with what appeared to be a bunch of scrap materials. At the bottom she removed a bigger bundle of black and red fabric and he flew closer.

She put it in her lap and Jason had to do a double take when he realized that her hands were glowing and what the actual fuck- it was a box now -fuck fuck fuck- why was it a box? How? What- Jason was pretty sure he did not sign up for this.

She put the box down in front of her and to his relief she opened her mouth to speak as she lifted the lid, so he’d understand everyth- and its jewellery.

The box contained jewellery. Animal themed jewellery by the looks of things.

He then realized that these were probably the other miraculous.

She looked over each artefact before handing him the yellow and black hairclip.

Out of all of them, she picked the bee miraculous.

“Hilarious,” he replied dryly, giving her a look, he realized too late she wouldn’t be able to register- on account of, well you know… (if u don’t know by now, you don’t get to find out anymore)

She gave him a grin and replied, “I certainly think it is,”

Her teasing expression turned into one of worry, “I mean we could switch it out if it makes you uncomfortable-,” (being a sassy people pleaser with no filters really do be like this tho)

He laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing. What do I do?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer before obviously realizing that she didn’t have an answer. She turned to Tikki and the kwami had a fond smile on her face before turning to Jason. (Just Tikki casually mentor- moming Mari because Fu is useless)

“Just step on the miraculous, it’ll sense that you’re human,” the creature replied.

When he stepped onto the bee miraculous, its kwami appeared.

Pollen stared at him for a few seconds before she realized what was happening.

After an explanation about her power set and what exactly he could do in suit, he transformed.

He felt his human body appearing. He was taller and more built than he remembered being. His flying clearly had physical consequences then, not that he was complaining.

His suit included a pair of bee wings. His hair was longer than he remembered it being too.

He had a black leather jacket and combat boots. With it was a pair of practical black leggings and a yellow t-shirt with three thick black stripes. (The three stripes represent each one of his families, the Todds, the Waynes and The Dupain-Chengs, because I can) He also had a pair of black gloves. His boots had yellow laces. On his face was a black and yellow striped domino mask. The top sat on his hip. The bee miraculous sat on the middle of his chest in the form of a broach.

He all but sprinted to the mirror. He stared at his face, his blue eyes and his nose that never healed quite right after breaking it that one time. His black hair was messy and stuck up every which way, his cheekbones were as high as always, and he had a little bit of stubble and it was so familiar and so new all at once.

He touched his face, barely registering the tears flowing down his cheeks and laughed in relief. He was human again. This was real! He could- he was closer to normal than he ever thought he’d get to be.

He turned to Marinette who was staring up at him in shock. He picked her up and spun her around, laughing in joy. And after a moment she joined in. He put her down and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling widely, “Thank you. Thank you so much,”

She smiled up at him, a slightly sad look on her face, “I’m sorry, it’s not permanent,”

“Don’t be sorry. For the first time I have hope. It will be permanent eventually, and till then, I have you with me, right?” he squeezed her shoulder, still high on the feeling of hope and warmth and familiarity.

When he was overcome with the sudden urge to pull her into a hug, he didn’t resist.

He held her close, resting his chin on her head, “Damn, I missed this. Hugging, I mean. I haven’t... it’s been so long,” (not that he got all that many hugs from Bruce “emotionally constipated” Wayne)

She wrapped her arms around him, “I can imagine,”

They stood there a while before the time for patrol came along. She transformed and they made their way to the Eiffel tower, where they met Chat.

The cat themed hero rose his brow questioningly, “I thought we didn’t recruit new heroes unless it was an emergency?”

Ladybug smiled nonchalantly, “It’s Guardian business, he’s gonna be a permanent fixture in our team for at least a few months so we might as well get used to working as a team,”

Chat Noir eyed him wearily and he stepped forward, sticking his hand out, “Hi, I’m Blackback, nice to meet you,”

Chat Noir shook his hand and gave Ladybug a sceptical look, “An American? Really?”

“Please Chat, he's not American, it’s just the glamour hiding his actual accent,” she replied simply, shooting Jason a worried look.

He couldn’t give away his identity, but he was also technically a bee, he didn’t really have an identity to give away. So, her behaviour was strange. Unless she wanted to give him an identity somehow?

He couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of patrol.

When they got home Marinette revealed that she wanted to give him the fox miraculous. If they asked Trixx she would be able to design the costume in a way that allowed him to look like a normal civilian, without the mask.

Trixx's glamour was also stronger than the rest so his true identity as Jason Todd would be protected.

And she could help him fake an accent.

Since Marinette was a year younger than him he could just pick up where he left off school wise.

She convinced her parents that he was an exchange student in desperate need of a place to stay because the person he would’ve stayed with backed out last minute.

They agreed easily and Jason decided to not question it.

It was his third family. His second if you only counted non abusive ones. First if you wanted one with a healthy family dynamic.

They got him a fake birth certificate and name. He went with the alias Thomas Grayson. He thought it was kind of funny, and it paid homage to both Bruce and Dick. It gave him something from home to hold on to. (Jason isn’t really salty about not being avenged in this au, he didn’t die and Talia and the pit madness wasn’t there to egg on his anger. But maybe if I ever get back to this au we could do a thing with it… guess we’ll have to wait and see ;-) no promises tho)

He built himself another home with Marinette and her family. And before he knew it, he was happy again. He felt secure.

Through the weeks, he ingrained himself into Marinette's life. In a blink of an eye, they were best friends, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.

He loved living with her family as she trained to be strong enough to turn him back to normal.

He grew close to Marinette’s friends and was her shoulder to cry on about Adrien. He and Adrien got along pretty well, and he and Marc and Rose traded Literature jokes. Max would join in when it involved Shakespeare.

Then Lila happened. (She’s a staple in Maribat fiction. U can’t have Maribat without Lila. Or well u can but that’s usually a very specific au)

Her lies started out simple enough. Then she started manipulating everyone and he, Marinette, Chloe and Adrien were one scheme away from being ostracized. They sat in the back row.

They ignored her sneers and let her lie to her heart’s content. Then one day she said something that made both Marinette and Jason freeze.

“You know, I was childhood friends with Jason Todd (I know she usually gets the names wrong but like her knowing the name just makes this next bit better) You know, Bruce Wayne’s ward who died a while ago? It was just so sad. He grew up in a nice family but his parents both died in a car accident and Brucie took pity on him. He even let us keep in contact afterwards, since our parents were such good friends. We all miss them dearly of course. We were neighbours the year we lived in Gotham, you know? We'd play every day-,” she started fake crying, “Oh it just gets too much sometimes,”

But to Jason’s shock Alya didn’t move to console Lila, in fact, she was staring at the brunette in shock.

He turned his gaze to Marinette to see the girl wearing the biggest, coldest, most satisfied smirk. She rested her chin on her hands and grinned at Lila in a way that made shivers go down his spine.

He turned back, this ought to be good.

And it was.

Alya absolutely lost it.

She ripped Lila a new one and frankly? Jason was impressed. (Alya has a temper and she’s a fangirl, and we all know how we get when someone gets something wrong about one of our hyperfixations, even if it’s an old one so like yall can imagine how bad Lila had fucked up)

When an akuma flew in towards Lila, Alya grabbed it, staring the girl down with a fury he didn’t know she could possess, “Don’t you dare! Do you think I’m blind? I’ve seen how easily you get akumatized and this time I’m not letting it happen!”

Of course, Alya then got akumatized but hey it beat another version of Lila.

Everyone made up but they weren’t quite as close as before. Their group tended to consist mostly out of him, Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka.

Other than that incident and akuma attacks, life was pretty good.

In fact, it was great.

He and Marinette would spend nights on her balcony, laughing and slow dancing. They star gazed and went on patrols. He helped her when she got nightmares and she returned the favour. They went on long walks and spent the holidays together. They crammed for tests and he played model for her designs. They worked in the bakery and hung out with their friends both in and out of suit. They’d joke about his technical bee-ness and he and Chat drove her mad with puns. In retaliation she’d introduce him as her bee friend to people or only give him honey and bee themed things. (ok this sentence sounds weird but I mean like when she brings them sweets from the bakery to snack on while working and stuff.)

And one laugh, memory and fight at a time, he started to fall. (I just want good things for Jason, and really can you blame me?)

Through the months, he kept up to date on the news about Bruce Wayne and Marinette held his hand each time a new kid joined his brood. She reminded him that no child could be replaced and reassured him that of course Bruce would want him back when they figured everything out.

And if he didn’t, she’d kick his ass into space, and he’d stay with her family in Paris- a family she made sure he knew he was a part of.

He helped Sabine in the kitchen and was the only one who came closest to beating Marinette’s Ultimate Mega Strike 3 record. Tom taught him to shave and bake. He was integrated into their family and they treated him as part of the family.

But even if they were giving him everything they were, he missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. And Barbara. And Gotham. He missed them all so much. He missed home.

So, 14 months later, when Marinette told him they had a meeting with the Justice League about the Hawkmoth situation, Jason felt his heart skip a beat.

“What?” he asked softly, his eyes brimming with tears (Marinette taught him how to emotion, you see. So Jason is emotionally stable-ish enough to cry without feeling embarrassed about it), “I get to see him again?”

Marinette nodded and hugged him from behind, “I’m planning on telling him what happened. Is there anything you can tell him to verify who you are?”

Memories from a million years ago entered his mind, “Yes,”

She took his hand and took a step back, “And I think I can fix you before we go, I’m strong enough. But I’d still like your help in the final battle, I mean I know you’re going home but...,”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled, “Of course, Pixie. I’ll always be there for you when you need me,”

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, a movement so familiar it was practically a part of him. He pulled her close and cried into her hair.

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” he asked softly, after a while, resting his chin on top of her head.

“He will,” she replied, tightening her grip around his waist.

They both knew she had no guarantee of that. That she had no way of knowing for sure. Neither of them did.  And it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

The next day they do the magic turning back thing. It freaks him out quite a bit but not as much as her revealing the miraculous freaked him out the first time, you get kinda used to the magic shenaniganary. They’re both passed out for an hour afterwards and when they wake up, he holds her, crying, because he was finally, finally back to normal and this was real and permanent, and it was over.

She cried with him and held him, and they then went out and he wore a shirt she made for him, and they got ice cream the next day. They celebrated some more and went to the park with the squad and they had a picnic.

It was better than he ever could've imagined.

While the sun was setting, they stood back on her balcony, where they first spoke all those months ago, slow dancing. He pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her as the orange light of the sunset shone on them. (So aesthetic)

“Thank you, Marinette, for everything,” he says as he rubs his thumb across her cheek. His hand holding her face. She puts her hand over his and closes her eyes, savouring the moment.

She opened her eyes again and smiled, “I’d do it again and more, if it meant I’d get to be with you,”

He started leaning down, “If I lost you, I’d fly all over the world just to find you again,”

She raised to her tip toes, faces millimetres from one another, blue bells meeting ice, “So it was all worth it in the end?”

He moves closer, eyes searching hers. “Definitely,” he breathes.

She closes the distance, and he picks her up and spins her around. They break apart and their laughter fills the air.

(now that’s enough fluff, allow me to drown you in angst)

The next day they stood on the Eiffel tower. She took his hand, “Let’s recap. I go in, we have our Hawkmoth meeting, then I ask if I can speak to Batman and Nightwing alone. Then I tell them I found you, then I give them – are you sure it’s necessary for me to give them your blood, hair and a cheek swab? Isn’t that overkill?” (Batman is serious about his no kill rule, but he’s also serious about his there’s no such thing as overkill rule)

He shook his head and she sighed, “Okay. Then I give him means to contact me and I come back. Now remember they might take a while to process and they won’t necessarily call immediately-,”

“What if they never call?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly.

She ran her finger softly through his hair, “Then you have us to help you get through it,”

He nodded, she kissed his cheek and stepped through the portal with Queen Bee, Chat Noir and Viperion. He and Ryuuko stayed behind as backup, he wielded the Fox miraculous these days, but kept the name Blackback, always wearing a black leather jacket no matter the transformation.

He and Ryuko discussed fighting styles, she was kindly trying to distract him, and if it had been anything else he needed distracting from, it would’ve worked.

So passed the slowest forty-five minutes of his life. Chat Noir and Queen Bee exit a portal and so the wait for Marinette and Luka began.

She and Bruce were talking now. Bruce would know he was alive. This was make or break for him. Luka was nearby to act as back up worst-case scenario.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by someone taking and rubbing circles on his back. He looked down to see Ryuuko on his one side and saw Chat Noir on his other.

“We’ve got you,” Chloe said standing in front of him, hand on his unoccupied shoulder.

He swallowed and nodded. She squeezed his upper arm and met his gaze, “Breathe, you’re safe, honey,”

So, 30 more minutes pass. They sit down and somewhere along the line Chat goes and grabs a dozen croissants from the bakery.

In another situation he might’ve laughed. He’d baked this morning’s batch and now he got to eat some of it for free, of course, technically he could get others for free too but-

The portal opened behind them and Ladybug and Viperion stepped out. He noted that she didn’t have the bag of his DNA with her anymore.

She smiled softly at him, “Now we wait,”

And wait they did.

They waited two weeks.

And then the burner phone that's number they'd given Bruce rang.

Jason froze, Marinette jumped up and ran to get it.

He couldn't move as she walked over and put the phone on speaker, she grabbed his hand and he held onto her for dear life.

"We can both hear you now, Nightwing," she said.

There was a beat of silence on the other side of the line, "Can he- If you're- can I speak to him? In- um- private?"

Marinette looked at him, and he nodded. She took the phone off speaker and handed it to him.

He held it up to his ear and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the circles Marinette were drawing on his hand with her thumb.

"He- hey Dick," he said. He heard his brother's breathing hitch, followed by a few seconds of silence.

"When did Batman find you?"

"25th May 2017,"

"Who's your favourite author?"

"Mary Shelley tied with Jane Austin,” he replied.

Dick stayed silent for too long and before he could stop himself the words fell from his mouth, desperation clinging to each syllable,” My favourite- my favourite playwright is Shakespeare, and my favourite school subject is English. If I could pick any day job it would be being a writer. My favourite colour is blue. Alfred has a secret fear of dolphins. You have had a ridiculously huge crush on Barbara for years and she had no idea, and I found a picture you drew under your old room's bedside table of you two getting married. I folded the picture up and hid it in a small box of memories I kept in the farthest corner of my closet under clothes I never wore. I have a round scar on the lower left side of my back where Willis Todd burned me with a cigarette when I was 5 that you don’t know I know you know about. My first Christmas at the manor you found me in the rose garden cutting a few off to take to my mother's grave and I was terrified that you would yell at me but instead you drove me to the graveyard and that was the day I decided to give you a real chance. I despise carrots but I eat them when Alfred makes them because I don't want to be a burden. And I-," he choked on a sob- when had he started crying?

He took a shuddering breath, and swallowed some of his tears, trying to make sure the words got out right, "I've missed you guys for every single second that I've been gone,"

His stomach tied itself up in a million knots as the silence stretched on. He could hear Dick moving the phone.

"Can I speak to Ladybug again please?" A female voice he didn't recognize said.

He handed the phone to Marinette and pressed his hand over his mouth to try to contain the sobs. He felt like a knife was twisting his stomach. He couldn't even hear what Marinette was saying. (I’m going through something irl and as a result u guys get to read angst by the bucketloads and I regret nothing)

Dick didn't want to talk to him. He should've just answered the question, he shouldn't have given all the extra information. Now they were never going to believe that it's really him and he would never see them again. Maybe they knew it was him and they just didn't want him-

"Jason, breathe with me," he heard Marinette's voice. His eyes latched onto hers like a lifeline, he became aware of her hands holding his.

She took his face in her hands and rested her forehead against his, in a motion so familiar that it came as easy as breathing. Well as easy as it usually was to breathe, right now excluded.

After he calmed down, she explained to him what they discussed. They would go to Gotham and meet and discuss things from there.

They wanted to meet him, but they still didn’t completely believe that it was him. He knew this for a fact because they had organized for M’gann to be there to confirm what he was saying. (Yassss M'gann my darling girl, I adore out lil Martian)

Marinette had suggested that they meet in the Batcave in an hour. Everyone had agreed. He assumed she had a plan as to why she wanted to wait. And he trusted her, so he waited for her to explain.

“I want to take the team, as backup. If you’re not comfortable with it, I want to at least take Luka. I would suggest just letting one of us wield is miraculous, but his Second Chance Timer limit is an hour so it would be most beneficial,” she said, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding his.

He nodded, sitting up straighter, but not releasing his grip on her hand, “We can bring the team, it’s smart to have backup. Besides if things go haywire, we have Luka to stop us.”

“Then let’s go get our team, love,”

(oh, I should probably mention that only he and LB knows everyone’s Identities. Or well rather no one knows like officially. Like everyone lowkey knows everyone's and a few of them have officially revealed themselves to each other, but not everyone is officially revealed to everyone and Mari and Jason are the only ones who aren’t officially revealed to anyone else, it’s kinda like the vibes of knowing your best friend is queer but not saying anything because they haven’t officially come out yet but like you know because they ain’t nearly as subtle as they think. Like that aesthetic.)

Anyway, 50 minutes later, they’re all gathered on the Eiffel Tower. Jason saw Marinette give Luka a nod to reset his timer. Suddenly he was enveloped in a light with a scratch that wasn’t there a few seconds before on his cheek, his expression quite annoyed.

Marinette immediately furrowed her brows, “How many times?”

Viperion shook his head, “Don’t worry, only one so far, but they try to restrain us. We’re gonna have to try plan b this time,” Everyone nodded, they waited two minutes before the agreed upon time and Mari opened a portal, but instead of appearing out in the opened, they hid in the shadowy parts of the cave.

Jason used his illusion to hide them from any observant eyes and they spread out a bit. He and Mari stayed together, Cloe flew to get a higher perspective and hide Viperion on one of the cave’s many ledges while Chat just moved a few feet away to have a slightly different hiding spot. Kagami dropped into her wind form and was flying above them to eavesdrop, she’d go to Luka if she heard anything of importance so he could go restart again.

They’d be one step ahead of the Bats no matter what they pulled, after all, they had all the time in the world.

They watched them all get into position as time neared. Jason didn’t know all the kids but recognized them from the news.

Dick, Bruce and M’gann stood near the bat computer with Barbara – who was in a wheelchair but that was a realization to deal with later- and Alfred.

The minute they were supposed to appear Jason cast another illusion to make it appear as though they had arrived. As expected, weapons and restraints immediately swarmed on them, each kid going for a different miraculous member. Too bad the images turned into orange dust as soon as they touched them.

The tiny one in the Robin uniform was red in the face and immediately started throwing a tantrum, “Father! They’ve tricked us-,”

Before he could get another word out, Chloe mass-venomed the horde of kids that we’re sent to attack them. He counted Black bat, Red Robin, Batgirl, Signal and Robin. They were all frozen in the middle of the room and before the others near the computer could move, Kagami trapped them in a (rather large) ring of fire. They had enough space to move around comfortably but if they tried approaching the edge the flames would grow larger.

Batman growled and his eyes searched through the cave, but he wouldn’t see them, no matter how hard he searched.

Jason stared at them. Dick was also searching the cave, but he seemed to look more hopeful than angry. Alfred seemed his usual calm self and Barbara was glancing around the cave more subtly. He didn’t bother looking at the rest of the batkids because M’gann was staring right at him, staying right where she was despite her ability to fly.

“Hi, Jason,” she softly spoke into his mind, he felt emotion overwhelm him, she’d known him before everything, and she knew it was him and it was a lot.

He knew she wasn’t probing around his brain for information like he was sure Bruce had asked her to, she didn’t have to, she knew it was him.

“Can you please tell me why we’re surrounded by fire?” she asked.

“We have a time traveller,” he replied.

“Ah, not a fan of Bruce’s restrain and question method, then? Can’t say I blame you, though I do think you’ve proven your point,”

“You really think it’s a good idea to release all of them?” he asked sceptically.

“… Good point. Maybe leave the brood in the middle in whatever frozen state they’re in and just let us in the fire out. They really just think it’s too good to be true… Jason, I won’t let them hurt you,”

“Okay,” he agreed softly. He turned to Marinette and gave her a slight nod. She returned with one of her own.

They walked over to Kagami’s ring of fire and he held their illusion until they were right in front of it. He held on to it for a bit to make sure everyone else would be able to stay in position. Chloe would keep the cavalry venomized and Chat and Viperion would stick to the shadows, unless necessary.

Jason dropped the illusion and watched four heads snap to him. M'gann simply gave him a soft smile and a nod of encouragement.

Kagami moved herself to stand next to Marinette and turned back into her human form, glaring at them with a silent warning.

Their attention was elsewhere, though. For a long time they just stood there and stared at one another in silence. They studied every part of one another they could see.

His eyes caught on Barbara’s wheelchair and he felt ready to destroy whatever put her there. She met his eyes and he held her gaze. She must’ve seen something there because she gave a small smile as she allowed a few tears to escape her eyes.

“Miss Martian?” Batman broke the silence like a cheap dinner plate, shattering it in a matter of seconds.

“It’s him,” M’gann answered without a hint of hesitation.

It was Alfred that moved first. He took a few hesitant steps towards him and before Jason knew it the man was in front of him. Alfred reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, desperately studying him for a moment before pulling him into a hug only Alfred could give.

It took Jason a moment to respond but when he did he returned it wholeheartedly.

After a few minutes they pulled apart and it took him a moment to realize that they’d both started crying. When he looked up Dick was only a few feet away. The moment Alfred stepped away Dick pulled him close.

“I thought you were dead, kid. I thought I’d never see you again, I thought I lost even more family. You were too young, too innocent. Fuck Jason,” Dick whispered, tightening his grip, “I’m so glad you’re alive,”

Jason held on to his brother and that night they cried about terrible endings and broken beginnings. They cried about lost time and found family.

It wasn’t the end yet, Hawkmoth was still terrorizing Paris and he had no idea what Bruce thought yet. There were all his other kids, his brothers and sisters. There were his teammates and the incredible story of how he’d been turned into a bee of all things.

They had a lot of catching up to do.

But just for a moment, a strand of a singular moment, he had his brother in his arms again and he was back home. His first real home.

Things weren’t perfect, as things rarely are but it didn’t matter. Because part of the beauty of life is how it builds and breaks us in a cycle of love and loss.

And that night they laughed with a lightness and joy none of them had fully been able to hold onto in years.

 I hope you guys enjoyed!

This is lowkey totally gonna be the au I go to when I don’t know what to write lol, maybe write a bit of what happens afterwards or a part of everything during the year he lived with Mari them or just y’know shenanigans

[sailtoafarawayland]

Living a Life (1/2)

Summary: Sometimes the things we see ourselves in most clearly aren’t made from glass, and sometimes death is not the ending we think it is, but a pause of breath that gives life to a new beginning.   

Rating: T for now

AO3 - FF

Chapter 1

Emma didn't really know why she did it, why she stopped at all.

The sidewalks were an icy mess, like the city didn't even care that they were staring a lawsuit in the face, and the clean, shoveled pathway through the cemetery  was just too tempting to pass up. She was exhausted after a day spent at the precinct with her latest collar – some sort of mix up with the payment, or the filing, or whatever nonsense it was this time – and she just wanted to get home.

She didn't like the thought of using the cemetery as a shortcut, but the thought of being out of work for two weeks while she recovered from a sprained ankle was even worse.

Maybe it was because she walked past so many other gravestones that had been recently dusted of snow, the past few days of New England weather not accumulating on top of them, brushed away by the hands of loved ones. Maybe it was because she saw the wreaths leftover from Christmas dotting the quiet cemetery, bright orbs of red peeking through snow sprinkled like icing sugar across them.

But she stopped in front of a gravestone that seemed lonelier than the rest, slightly removed from the path and resting beneath one of the many bare trees, days of hardened snow and ice frozen to its surface.

Looking at it – neglected, ignored – she wondered if that's what her grave would look like when she died.

She should probably get cremated.

She should probably just leave. She had no business here, staring at some stranger's grave like the person lying below it cared about anything – cared that no one had stopped to sweep off the snow, but she didn't.

Instead, she stepped off the clean, salted path and crunched through layers of icy snow, deeper than she had thought. She could feel it crumbling over the tops of her low boots, icy pebbles melting and trickling down her heel. Well, she was stuck for it now.

She crouched down in front of the gravestone, and raising one gloved hand, she began brushing the frozen chunks of snow from its shoulders. Removing the dusting of windblown ice from the engraved front proved to be more work than she had anticipated, but after a few minutes she had most of it cleared, the rest would just have to melt on its own. Her hard work rewarded, she finally took the time to read the face of the stone.

She hadn't been to any funerals in her life, but she knew enough that the brevity of what she saw surprised her.

Liam Jones, 1977 – 2011

Her breath left her body, a chill wind stirring her hair and leaving her feeling somehow exposed, like she was doing something she shouldn't be - peering through the window of someone’s life only to find it was an empty house, abandoned. She had expected an old gravestone, someone with no family left to come sit by them and wipe away the snow.

She hadn't been expecting this.

He was young, not much older than her, and since it was only February, it hadn't even been that long since he'd passed. She glanced at the frozen ground she was squatting above and moved hastily to the side, wondering if there was some kind of graveyard etiquette. There must be. Don't stand in front of the graves where people are...resting, she guessed. She wasn't really sure. She'd never had a family, a grave to visit.

She probably should be thankful for that, less heartache.

Snow removed, job done, she stuck her hand back in her pocket and headed down the path. She wouldn't be back again. He wasn't her family, whoever she was, and she wanted to leave the nagging fear that one day that might be her in the cemetery where it belonged.

Weeks passed and she told herself when she headed down the cemetery path again that it was because another big storm had just blown through Boston, and for some reason known only to the city, they never cleared or salted the sidewalks in this neighborhood.    

But she didn't try to stop herself when she reached his grave again, this time the name Liam Jones clearly visible, a thick blanket of fresh snow cushioning the top. She walked between the first row of graves and to the side of his, taking care not to step where she assumes he's buried. It seemed like the right way to go about it, even if there aren't any rules. She probably should've googled it, but she hadn't planned on coming back.

She really hadn't.

Instead of questioning it too much, she brushed the snow away with her sleeve and tossed a few stray, fallen twigs back to the ground. It wasn't until after she'd thrown them that she thought to make sure she hadn't dropped them onto another resting place – littering on dead people was most definitely poor graveyard etiquette.

When she stopped in spring, she told herself it was just to enjoy the blossoms on the cherry trees that blanket that portion of the cemetery, knowing it was a lie. She knew because she'd bothered to look up cemetery etiquette online, and yes, it was a thing. She was also mildly curious to see if anyone had been to visit him now that the weather was nicer, if she would even be able to tell.  

There were a few graves she'd passed that had small flowers gracing their shoulders, and others with ornate vases built into the stone, colorful blooms filling them. She brushed a scattering of cherry blossoms from the top of Liam's grave and wondered again at the emptiness of it. He must not have had anyone, because if he had, surely they would have written something other than just the year of his birth and death.

Was he a father, a brother? Was he a son? Was he alone, as she was?

“Who were you?” she asked, but no one answered.

The next time she passed through, the cherry trees had long since lost their blooms, and she swept the sickly sweet smelling remains of them from his grave, bending down to tug out the stray clumps of tall grass where the granite sat, immovable. It seemed pretty obvious no one else was visiting, and that not even the groundskeeper had enough hours in the day to really keep everything neat.

They'd had enough dry days that she didn't have to crouch to visit, and found herself sitting back onto the grass between his gravestone and the next.

“Is this...weird?” she asked, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to her talk to a dead person she didn't even know. “I'm sorry no one comes here but me.”

Suddenly she felt self-conscious, the whole situation settling heavily around her, the overpowering perfume of dying flowers clinging to her skin. What the hell was wrong with her that the only connection she'd allow herself was with some stranger's gravestone? Angry with herself, she jumped up and hurried back down the path towards home. She was out of the cemetery and an entire block away when she finally remembered the daisies in her bag. Reaching in, she brushed the crumpled edges of the petals and sighed.

There was another visitor a few graves down when she returned, but they clearly knew enough to not eyeball her or say anything when she walked back over to Liam's grave – mildly flustered – and gently placed the rumpled cluster of flowers on the ledge in front of his name. She brushed her hands roughly on her leather sleeves and left as quickly as she came.

The next time it was a lot easier to talk to him, even if she knew he wasn't listening, and he certainly couldn't talk back. The daisies hadn't lasted very long, so she tossed them and said she'd bring more next time, although she realized she may need to leave something other than flowers. Work had been slow lately, and she wasn't stopping at the precinct all that often to drop off skips – and she couldn't just make a special trip once a week to refresh his flowers.

That would be crazy.

She didn't even know him.

So when her fingers ran across the smooth ridges of the seashell on her windowsill at home, she put it in her pocket.

Spring faded into the suffocating heat of summer, the grass parched and brittle beneath her feet as she crouched next to Liam's grave, brushing away the small ant hills that had formed in the sandy soil with a vengeance she didn't know she had in her for the tiny creatures.

“You know,” she said, and the words hurt before they even left her mouth, “you might be the only person I've got to talk to. How pathetic is that?”

She worked around the back of the grave, tugging up stray weeds she'd missed the last time.

“I brought you something other than flowers. Maybe you weren't even a flower guy, when you were around. I'm not much of a flower girl, I don't think. I've never really had anyone to buy them for me though. There was Neal...but he...well, let's just say he didn't leave me with any good memories, let alone flowers. Is there anyone who has good memories of you? I wish I knew some. It would be nice to know who you were, not just sit here guessing.”

The cemetery was empty, and that's when Emma felt most at ease, most like she could just say what was on her mind without having to worry about anyone listening, or whether they think she's crazy.

She laid the scraggly bunch of weeds at the side of the grave, reminding herself to take it out to the trash can when she leaves.

“Here,” she shrugged, pulling the seashell from her pocket and placing it on the ledge where she last left flowers.

It was a spiral shell, small, but perfect and white with a soft, amber colored center.

“I don't know if you really like seashells either, but...I picked that up a few years ago down at the beach. In the summer, it's always full of families and couples, so I don't go much, but sometimes when it's a little grey and stormy...it's just the most peaceful place to sit and think.”

She didn't say the rest of what she was thinking aloud – that seeing the happy couples and the parents with their kids just made her stomach clench, that all she could think of was how that was never something her mom wanted to go with her.

– was never something she got the chance to do.

That feels like too much to unload, even on a dead guy.

“It's pretty peaceful here too,” she sighed.

Summer relented and fall crept into the city, the once green leaves crisping and drifting to the ground. Despite getting a payday, she was leaving the precinct in a pretty shitty mood. Her skip had almost given her the slip, and she was going to be nursing a bruised shoulder from where she tumbled in an alley trying to keep up with him. By the time she stepped through the archway of the cemetery, the sun had already set, the streetlamps casting cold halos across the damp ground. She heard them before she saw them, and it took her a few seconds to realize they'd gathered just off the path next to Liam's grave.

“Hey!” she snapped, immediately angered by what she was seeing. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Christ, relax, lady,” one of the kids drawled, taking a swig from his beer and clinking it against the gravestone next to Liam's.

Emma didn't know who it belonged to, but it was always well cared for, and she was furious. There were four kids, teenagers, and they'd stomped all over the damp ground in front of the graves, clearly not caring that they were drinking and walking all over someone's remains.

“Look, kid, you and your buddies have about ten seconds to take your crap and get the hell out of here. I just left the precinct, and I've got Chief Humbert on speed dial – ” They didn't need to know how untrue that was, that, in fact, the guy gave her the creeps “ – so I suggest you take your party somewhere else.”

A few eye rolls and snarky comments later and they'd cleared out, leaving Emma feeling both pleased and worried for herself. She plopped down next to Liam's grave, wincing as her palm hit a piece of broken glass.

“Little shits,” she hissed, pulling the chunk of glass from her hand and setting it aside. It was too dark to find all the pieces. “What the hell am I doing?”

She leaned forward and straightened the seashell that was still resting on the stone, glad it had survived Boston's vagrant youths for this long. Wet leaves stuck to the front and sides of the grave, and she pulled off a few that hid his name.

“That's going to be me one day,” she muttered, eyeing the paltry engraving once more. “Emma Swan, time stamp. I'll be lucky if anyone comes to chase delinquents away from my grave.”

Everything was wet and cold, the smell of decomposing leaves rich in the air, and while fall made most people think of pumpkins and Thanksgiving, warm cups of coffee on cold walks – right now she could only think about how dark and cold and oppressively heavy it must be six feet under.

The next time she visited, she left a little fist-sized pumpkin she'd picked up at the bodega. She'd thought about carving it, what with Halloween around the corner, but that was never something she'd done before, and if she messed it up, she'd have nothing.

It didn't take long for the pumpkin to turn into a Thanksgiving feast for the city's squirrels, barely more than a rind left behind like something someone had tossed into the garbage, and she felt bad. She should have come back sooner.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, removing the half-frozen leftovers and pulling the few stray weeds with enough gumption to grow in later November. “Looks like you had quite a bit of furry company while I was gone. If I were a normal person, I'd be home sharing a Thanksgiving meal with my family, or friends – but I don't have either of those, so here I am, talking to you. Happy Thanksgiving, Liam.”

It wasn't long after the first snow hit Boston, and Emma was reminded of that first time she visited the cemetery and wondered who Liam Jones had been, why no one stopped to visit his grave. She could have googled him, but if she was being honest with herself – which she was really trying to be better about these days – she didn't really want to know if he had family that couldn't be bothered to visit. If she didn't know, she couldn't be angry with them for no reason, since she had no right to be.

She didn't know Liam Jones.

She had no right to bear a grudge for him.

As Christmas approached, Emma saw more people visiting, sometimes with family, and other times alone, leaving little battery powered tea lights and wreaths to warm the cold stone. When she saw the bouquet of poinsettias at the bodega, she didn't feel the least bit strange as she placed it on the counter. There aren't any Christmas decorations in her apartment, but she felt like Liam should have something to show that at least one person was thinking about him on the first Christmas he was missing.  

The air was bitter and cold as she made the trek though from her neighborhood to the cemetery, but she didn't mind. When she reached Liam's grave, there was a soft blanket of fresh snow atop it, and she brushed it gently to the ground.

“You know, I really should thank you,” she said quietly, glad for the peace and solitude that hung around her. It made it easier to say the words. “I felt like maybe I was doing something nice for you, remembering you in the way I would want someone to think about me, just so that I wasn't completely forgotten, but I feel like coming here...shit, it'll be a year in a couple months. I think I figured something out. I don't want to be alone, Liam. I know I can't guarantee that I won't be alone one day in the ground, with no one left to care, but...I don't want to feel that way now. I've always kept people at a distance, too afraid to get hurt again, but I'm tired of being alone. I want a life, I want to live it...”

There was no answer, but she hadn't been expecting one.

Instead she leaned down and brushed the snow off the little ledge that still held her seashell, frozen to the stone, and gently placed the poinsettias beside it. She reached out and traced her finger along the carved edge of his name before turning to leave, glancing up at the blue sky between the bare branches of the cherry tree.

“If you're, uh, listening anywhere, well, thanks for everything, Liam. Merry Christmas.”

~ * ~ * ~

When Killian woke, it felt like he was being dragged from the bottom of the sea, every force on earth weighing him down still not enough to keep his blissful, dark peace from being disturbed.

Once the light hit him, it wasn't like in the movies. He didn't wake up groggy, or wondering where he was, confused about the machines beeping around him and the tubes connected to his body.

No, he knew exactly where he was and what led him here, and he wanted nothing more than to sink back down to that darkness that was so complete and starving it devoured every thought before he could think it. He wanted to close his eyes and fall back into that oblivion that had been his only respite from the flashes of memory, the pull of voices.

He didn't want to have to remember the sound that steel makes when it cracks and groans, the way the dock shook beneath their feet as the freighter slid into the crane, the sheer force of it toppling the massive tower of heavy steel as easily as if it were nothing more than a house of cards. He wanted to forget running for his brother, watching the mass of cables and metal come down over them – screaming, screaming his name and trying to reach him, unable to move, unable to breathe...

“Can you hear me? My name is Dr. Whale.”

The voice was leaning over him, his mouth moving, more words floating around him. Killian didn't understand why they wouldn't just leave him alone – he tried to roll onto his side, ignoring the the objections from the doctor, and that's when he felt it – a pain that burned up his arm and into his brain, as if his hand had been crushed by his movement. He jerked his arm, trying to understand what he'd done, why it hurt so badly – and then he saw it.

The bandages, the stump, the strangely shortened arm that most definitely used to have a hand at the end of it – except now there was nothing, and it couldn't possibly be his arm he was looking at, his hand that was missing, because he could feel it. The agony was so real it eclipsed everything else – the pain in his ribs and elsewhere vanishing as he thrashed and tore out lines and catheters.

There were hands on him, holding him – voices shouting, someone screaming. He was screaming, but it was so far away, a sea of darkness rising between him and the place where his hand wasn't, cradling and dragging him back down to that deep oblivion where there was nothing.

Nothing at all.  

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo

[forabeatofadrum]

e pare stella che tramuti loco - chapter eight

Notes: Technically speaking, this is the last regular chapter, since the next one is an epilogue. I’m fine. Really. This is fine. The epilogue feels like another regual chapter anyway. I’m really fine.

AO3

–

2034

BAZ

My family dresses up nicely, if I may say so. And I may. We’re at our Easter’s best, which is needed since it’s actually Easter. Simon, Rosemary and I are all wearing flowered suits. Usually, that’s my forte, but Simon got a flowered suit from Daphne years ago in another attempt to not look homophobic. He hates it, so he only wears it when Daphne’s around. Rosemary’s is custom made for her and I know my father hates the fact that she’s not in a dress, but he’s decent enough to not comment on it.

We don’t always go home to England for Easter, but Ms. Snow planned a visit so we decided to join her and do Easter with the family in England. Some countries have two Easter days, so we do that as well. It’s now Easter Sunday and I’m with my family in Hampshire. Martin Bunce and his team of researchers created a spell that would close a dead spot (I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it), so my parents and siblings moved back for my parents’ early retirement. I have to begrudgingly admit that I love this estate. Now that I am no longer an angsty teen, I can appreciate it more.

It’s a family affair. The three of us are here. Mordelia just broke up with her girlfriend, so she’s on her own. Mordelia being a lesbian is one of the greatest gifts that the universe could gift me and my father couldn’t do anything about it because he was already a declared changed man! (One queer kid is something he can handle, but two?) But the twins did bring their partners. They’re only twenty-two but they want everything at once. They remind me of Penelope in that sense. Petra’s already pregnant! Swithin didn’t come home for Easter since he’s swamped with exams and honestly, he probably made the right choice. That’s what I realise when Fiona, Nicodemus and Luigi walk in. Fiona and Luigi clean up nicely, since they make some effort, but Nicodemus looks as dreadful as usual.

“Be nice,” Simon whispers.

“Yes, babbo, be nice,” Rosemary says in the exact same serious tone and it cracks me up. She’s starting to act so much like Simon. Yes, nature is an important part of a child’s development, but don’t underestimate the power of nurture.

It calms Simon’s nerves, though. They’re still there, I know that they are. Sometimes in the darkest days, he confides them with me, as if I don’t know. And then I tell him that sometimes, sometimes, I still am afraid of turning into my father.

But Rosemary adores us.

That’s why she insisted on this custom suit. She knows that I wear a lot of roses and when she found Simon’s suit in the back of our dresser, she proudly exclaimed that she needed one too.

“Oh Rosemary, you look adorable!” Daphne crouches down to pinch her cheeks.

“Thanks, grandma,” Rosemary says and she’s hiding her discomfort. Daphne is having a harder time accepting that Rosemary’s growing up than us.

“She does, doesn’t she?” Fiona yells from afar. Fiona likes Rosemary, which makes me feel a bit guilty about the fact that I cannot stand Luigi.

“Grand aunt Fiona!” Rosemary almost pushes Daphne off her feet and she runs towards Fiona. Daphne’s face falls for a millisecond, but she knows how to school her expression. She can handle being less than Ms. Snow, but Fiona’s special treatment stings.

“Come on, mum,” I put my arm on her to guide her back to the dining room. She’s gone all out. She hires staff, but she also likes cooking so she helps out.

“Why doesn’t she like me, Basil?” Daphne asks. I have to hide my surprise. Daphne’s disappointment is a well-known secret. This is the first time she actually confides with me. “Ms. Snow is more present in her life, so I get why Rosemary favours her, but she only sees Fiona’s at parties and events.”

“I don’t know, mum, I really don’t,” I say with a sigh, “If I had the answer, I would tell you. But rest assured, she still largely prefers you over father.”

Daphne harrumphs. She also doesn’t like it that my father and I never got a strong bond again. Don’t get me wrong, it got way, way better over the past decade and I appreciate him greatly for his effort, but I am still a petty piece of shit. But honestly, my father and I are as fine as we can be.

Luckily, he adores Rosemary as much as any other person. Becoming a father has made me grow somewhat closer to my own. Mostly because I want to learn from him so that I don’t become him, but it works!

“Mum, she does like you, truly,” I say. I take two glasses from a tray and hand one to her. She gives me a thankful smile. “Rosemary’s very vocal when she doesn’t like someone, like Nicodemus.”

This means that I have no guilt about hating Nicodemus. It’s wonderful.

“I don’t know how to make it better,” Daphne says, almost tearfully. I look around to make sure that we’re still talking in private, but everyone’s minding their own business, so it’s fine. “I give her so many gifts!”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Gifts are nice, but they aren’t everything. Remember how it started between you and Simon?”

Daphne adores Simon. It took a while, but they got there. That’s the main reason why Simon started joining me on the family trips.

“You were so desperately trying to not look homophobic, so you send us gift after gift after gift, and we appreciate it. I mean.” I nod towards the general direction of the others to remind her that Simon’s wearing her suit. Really, Daphne doesn’t have to know that Simon only wears it for show. I suppose it’s his way of acknowledging that Daphne, in her way, cares for him. “For a long time, you were more concerned about how you would look than about our feelings. And then you realised that and took action. The actions were more important, like when you stopped solely referring to Simon as ‘my friend’, or when you kept telling me to wish him the best after our calls, or when you helped me plan his twenty-seventh birthday party, or when you insisted on being my maid of honour when I told you we were getting married-”

“You still picked Agatha Wellbelove.”

“Of course I picked Agatha Wellbelove. We made a pact at Watford. That’s why I was her Best Man at her wedding, but your excitement meant so much to me I almost broke that pact.”

Daphne looks up in shock. Her eyes are shining with tears and happy surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, mum. It’s just that Agatha is my everything, even now, together with Simon and Rosemary, so I ended up picking her. But it was so nice. And then you gave this touching speech, which was way better than father’s awkward blubbering mess, because yours had so much heart and you welcomed Simon to the family. Those things matter, not another bloody Bimby.”

Daphne’s staring at her glass as if it has all the answers of the universe. She’s contemplating her entire life, probably.

“Besides, you have time,” I say. That’s what Simon and I keep telling each other when it comes to Rosemary. “She’s four years old and it’s true it’s difficult now, since you’re so far away, but that will most likely change when she gets her own mobile.”

I’m not like my parents. I know it’s 2034, for Merlin’s sake, but I am old-school and I refuse to give Rosemary a damn mobile at that age.

“You think so?” Daphne asks, hopeful.

“Yes.” I don’t even have to lie.

--

SIMON

Rosemary likes my family more than Baz’s, but so does every sane person. Easter Sunday was a proper affair, but Easter Monday is party time. We’re all at my uncle and Beth’s house, which is actually my grandma’s house, since he inherited it after her death.

My uncle and Beth took my grandma’s master bedroom, Anna took my uncle’s old room, and my mum’s room has been turned into a second guest room, but she always stays there when she visits. Rosemary and I drop our stuff in our usual guestroom. Baz’s downstairs with my uncle, talking about classic cars. This isn’t the first time that Rosemary’s staying here, but she’s always so ecstatic to be around here.

A townhouse in London is so different from a house in the mountains of San Felice del Benaco or a remote mansion in Hampshire. And it’s bloody Mayfair from all areas in London. We keep saying that Baz’s the rich one, but every time we visit my family, I get reminded that I am part of a noble family. Me and my mum just never lived that lavish lifestyle.

Like, right now Rosemary’s staring out of the window and she’s counting all the people walking around. She’s not used to seeing so many people pass the house. There are too many to count.

Despite our noble status and our fancy house, we are allowed to go batshit here. No suits. No staff. No dreary classical music playing all the time. (I don’t hate classical music, but it doesn’t really do much for the vibes). We didn’t even have an Easter Egg hunt yesterday, even though they have the land to do so. The Salisbury house is still in the middle of a capital city!

Well, at least the food’s always great at the Grimms.

I am wearing trackies and no one minds! We’re not expecting any other guests, since Beth is an only child and her parents have also died as well, so it’s just the seven of us.

“Come on, Rosemary,” I say and I hold out my hand. “Who’s going to help me cook? Not nonna Lucy, right?”

Rosemary reluctantly moves away from the glass, but she does take my hand. She can’t allow my mum to go to the kitchen before her.

She basically drags me downstairs. I’m happy that I’m pretty strong, because Rosemary’s vampirism is kicking in slowly. Thanks to Emma’s books on vampire parenting, we know what to expect when it comes to her abilities. Stuff like strength and sight and smell kick in first, even before the fangs grow out, and it’s noticeable with Rosemary. I really have to use all my strength to prevent her from being dragged on the floor.

It’s a mess downstairs, just how I like it. My grandma did prefer to keep the place cleaned up, but my uncle’s more relaxed. I like both versions of the house, but my uncle and Beth’s version feels more home-y. You can see that someone’s living here, which is a big departure from the clean and proper mansion in Hampshire or how my grandma used to live here. (To be fair, my grandma’s house still felt home-y despite the sterile interior, since she did have trinkets everywhere and it always smelled like her cooking.) (Oh my God, I miss her.)

“Nonna Lucy, no! La cucina è vietata!” Rosemary yells quickly when she sees my mum moving towards the kitchen. I know she does it to play with Rosemary.

“Come, Rosemary, run!” I scoop her up and together we rush to the kitchen. Rosemary’s delighted laughter soothes my ears.

We pass Baz and my uncle, who are now looking at photos of my granddad’s car, and Beth and Anna, who are painting eggs. Sometimes it’s weird to think that I have this family now, even though I’ve known of my extended family for almost two decades. But it just hits me every now and then. I went from being alone with my mum, to having my mum, my husband, my daughter, my deceased grandma, my uncle, my aunt-in-law (is that a term?) and my cousin. I even have in-laws! Sure, the Grimm-Pitches have nothing on the Salisburys, but I still care for them.

Rosemary chases my mum out of the kitchen and I laugh. I pull the sword out of the kitchen counter, since my mum left it there for me, and I quickly ask my mum to spell Rosemary put before she leaves.

I give Rosemary some eggs to crack, since she insists on helping. Of course, it doesn’t go well, which frustrates her, but I help her with the other eggs. I can hear cheery music. Anna must’ve put it on. I hear laughter and talking and pure happiness. I love this family. I love my family.

--

Someone’s shaking me. I groan. I am a deep sleeper, so whoever is trying to wake me must be using full force. It’s probably Baz being a fucking twat again.

I turn on my stomach and I bury my face in my pillow, hoping that he gets the message. Easter Monday was long and I’m tired, damnit.

“Papà?”

That snaps me awake. Sorta. I hoist myself up and I see that it’s Rosemary who’s standing next to my bed, shaking me.

“Rosemary?” I blink away the sleep and I reach for the lamp on the bedside table. The light is blinding and next to me, Baz also rolls around and lets out an annoyed grunt.

Now that the light is on, I can see Rosemary’s face and I feel my heart drop when I see tear tracks on her face.

“Papà?” she says again. I lift up the blanket so that she knows she can crawl in.

“What is it, my rosebud girl?” I say without thinking, because I am still half-asleep. Now that I’ve said it though, I realise that I’ve used the same term of endearment that my mum sometimes uses for me.

Rosemary climbs on the bed and when she lies down next to me, I put the blanket on her.

“Nightmare,” she says silently, careful not to wake Baz.

“Oh, sweetie, what was it about?”

This isn’t the first nightmare. One time she dreamt that she got turned into an orange and that everyone tried to peel her. It was very weird and I had to stop using oranges in dishes for a long time. I sometimes wish that dreams were magickal, because then I could ask Baz to spell them away.

But this isn’t a silly dream about an orange.

“My real mummy and daddy,” Rosemary cries out.

Baz and I prefer the term ‘biological’, since we are Rosemary’s real parents, but she’s only four years old so we don’t care. She’s never dreamt about her biological parents before, though, so I cup her face and lightly wipe away her tears.

“Do you want to tell me what you dreamt?”

Rosemary shakes her tiny head. “I don’t remember.”

I let out a relieved breath. Maybe that’s a good thing. I still don’t want her to be reminded of what happened that day in Udine.

“But it felt scary, yeah?”

Rosemary nods.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Rosemary.”

Rosemary sniffs her nose and I am about to turn off the light when I feel Baz moving around.

“What’s happening?” he sounds groggy. He props himself up on one elbow and he’s squinting his eyes at the light source.

“I had a nightmare, babbo, sorry for waking you,” Rosemary says.

“Oh little puff, come here,” Baz says sweetly. Rosemary untangles herself from my embrace and she climbs over me. She’s now lying between me and Baz, so I turn to face her.

“Sorry,” Rosemary says again. She must’ve gotten the overly apologetic behaviour from me.

“Don’t be,” Baz still sounds a bit sleepy, but I know that he’s fully awake now. His body just needs some time.

“It was about Rosemary’s bio parents,” I tell him.

“Sorry,” Rosemary says again, and the worst part is that she sounds genuinely sorry. She never has to feel sorry about waking us when she needs us. I tell her that.

“Rosemary, it’s fine. Your papà and I have nightmares about our family too,” Baz says.

“Really?”

Baz nods against her. “You know that grandma Daphne isn’t my first mum.”

“Because grandma Natasha is dead?”

“Exactly. And sometimes I dream sad things about grandma Natasha too.”

Rosemary doesn’t know that Natasha got murdered. She also doesn’t know that Baz witnessed it. She’s too young to learn that, but she does understand what a stepmother is.

In the same vein, she also knows that my dad is dead, but she doesn’t know how or why. As predicted, she asked about my dad one day. Me and my mum had troubles answering it, but Baz just calmly explained that my dad has been dead for a long time and that we don’t like to talk about him. It was enough for her.

One day we’ll tell her everything. Today is not the day.

That’s why I say something vaguely. “Yes, Rosemary, I have nightmares about my dad’s death too.”

“When parents die unexpectedly, it can be very, very sad and difficult,” Baz says, “It’s totally okay that you sometimes have nightmares about it, even when they’re very vague.”

“And we will always be here for you, Rosemary.”

Baz wraps his arms around her. I follow suit. I ask Rosemary is it isn’t too warm, but she seems to really like it.

“Thank you,” she says softly and I think she’s slowly falling asleep again, now that she feels safe.

“Baz, turn off the light,” I say. I don’t want to move and he knows a wandless and non-verbal spell that turns the light on an off.

At an instant, the room becomes dark again and the three of us fall asleep, cocooned under my uncle’s fancy duvet.

–

End notes: Don’t mind me. I am once again emotional about the boys and Rosemary having a big, loving family. Flowered suits? Flowered suits! I posted the suits that they’re wearing here. And this chapter is called ‘Family’ in my document, but fun fact, originally it was going to be about something completely different, namely death. But after writing around 700 words, I realised I didn’t want it to be about death, so I did a full 180, deleted everything, and started over with a more wholesome chapter. Well, I didn’t fully delete it. You can read the draft of ‘Death’ here.

And finally, the I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it spell is a reference to my beloved Restoration Ecology by aralias. Technically speaking, the spell shouldn’t work in this universe (read Restoration Ecology for find out why, really, do it), but Restoration Ecology is my beloved so I wanted to put a little easter egg.

[tinawritesstuff]

You’re home

Pairing: Henry Cavill/ First Person Reader

Wordcount: 1.4K

Warnings: kinda angsty if you squint a little? It’s mostly tooth-rotting fluff lol

A/N: a little something I’ve been meaning to write for a while now. Hope you guys enjoy it! 

The weather outside is freezing, the trees and the garden are painted in a thick layer of white thanks to the constant snowing. I swear I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The smell of coffee fills my nostrils, making me take a deep breath and inhale the addicting and intoxicating scent. There are only a few things that relax me and take me to my safe space: coffee, a book, winter and Henry.

Oh, Henry.

He’s been away for two months now, very busy doing reshoots for the second season of Witcher, and to say I miss him wouldn’t do justice to what I’ve been feeling. But I guess no one can really blame me, right? Because we spent six wonderful months together because of lockdown, so having to go back to not having him around every day has had me on edge since he left.

I look outside the window, watching the snow fall while sipping from my mug. The day is grey and I can’t help but feel like it matches my mood.

Have you ever felt like you have too many emotions inside and just need to let it go? Well, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling lately, specially since Henry got called to work again.

I know it’s not healthy to emotionally depend on someone else, because most of the time I find myself yearning his presence and just needing him with me. And it’s not fair to either of us.

I hear my phone ringing, and to say I run to see who’s calling would be an understatement. When I reach it, I see that the ID is my mom, to which I let out a groan of frustration. I was hoping it to be Henry.

“Hey, ma”

“Hello, dear. How are you today?”

“I don’t really know, to be honest” I shake my head, with a horrible feeling settling in my throat “I- I feel like I have a thousand of emotions stuck in my chest, and I can’t pinpoint exactly what I’m feeling”

“Oh, honey” she sighs “Why do you think that might be?”

“To be honest, it started when Henry left. And I can’t help but feel stupid, because we’ve been apart for longer periods of time before, and I’ve never complained about it. It never hurt like it does now”

“Darling, things like this are never stupid. Have you talked to him about it?”

“I haven’t really had the chance to. He’s been so busy and I honestly don’t want to bother him with this nonsense.”

“Listen to me, if that man loves you, and I’m certain he does, he will make the time to hear about your feelings and won’t think they’re nonsense, at all” she says in a stern voice and it makes my heart sink.

Because she’s probably right, and I should tell him about it. Otherwise, I’m sure I’ll be bottling up all that’s bothering and one day everything will explode. And it won’t be nice.

After some more catching up, she hangs up and I go back to…, well, look out the window. What I wasn’t expecting was to see Henry’s car pulling over on the entryway and parking there.

I hear the door opening, and Kal’s claws scratching the wooden floor as he makes his way inside the house. Next thing I know, I’m being thrown to the ground by the big, fluffy pig that attacks me with kisses.

I laugh while scratching his ears, and I hear the male deep laugh coming our way.

“Kal, hey, down boy. Let momma breath, c’mon”

“Oh no, please! I’ve missed him so much, let him stay like this for a little longer. I don’t mind” I say smiling up at him from the ground.

It’s unbelievable how much my mood changed the moment I saw his car pulling over. Which reminds me:

“What are you guys doing here?! I thought you wouldn’t be here until the holidays”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, my lovely, but England has gone back to lockdown. Starts tomorrow morning. So, we’ll only be working on the studio scenes.”

He helps me stand up and brings me close to his body in a bear hug. Oh, how I’ve missed him. His warm, his scent, his hugs, all of him.

I feel the tears pooling my eyes, because the mix of feelings is overwhelming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Before I realize it, I’ve become a sobbing mess crying on his chest.

“Oh, no, no, no. Little love, what’s wrong? Why are you crying like this?” he asks with concern filling his tone.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I-I j-just mis-ssed you a lot” I say the best I can between sobs.

“Okay, come here”

He picks me up, bridal style, carries me to the living room and sits down on the couch with me on his lap. I let out all the pent-up frustrations, all the dark emotions I’ve been feeling the last two months, and in the meantime, he just caresses my hair, soothing me and whispering sweet nothings in my ear to calm me down. After some time, the tears stop running and the sobs become little exhales of air, trying to regain calm and control of my breathing.

“Atta girl, you let it all out. Don’t think there’s anything else in you to cry about, eh?” he jokes and I let out a teary giggle. “Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know what’s wrong to begin with. All I know is that these last two months without you have been a hell to live. I’ve been feeling so lonely. And I’m not saying it’s your fault, not at all, because it’s your job and you love it and I shouldn’t be feeling like this and I shouldn’t be selfish; but truth is that I miss you every time you’re gone, and this one has taken a toll on me.”

“Oh, nugget” he sighs and pulls me closer to his body “I’m sorry to hear that, but there’s nothing selfish about you missing me and needing me here. In fact, I’ve been feeling the same way since I left” he shrugs and kisses my hair “I want you to tell me when these things bother you, especially when I’m away, because loneliness can get tricky and I don’t want you to feel that way. Okay?”

I nod my head and snuggle closer to his body, feeling his strong and big arms engulfing me in a tight hug. We stay like that for some time, quietly cuddling while watching the snow falling through the big window behind the T.V., until he breaks the silence.

“Where’s the Christmas’ tree?” he asks glancing around

“Oh, yeah” I let out a little embarrassed laugh “I haven’t put up any of the Christmas’ decorations, including the tree, because I didn’t want to do it alone. I was going to wait for you to come home”

“I was supposed to come home on December 23rd! You were planning to put the decorations up two days before Christmas?!” he exclaims funnily and I laugh at his mannerisms and efforts to lift up my mood.

Have I said how much I missed him? I think I have.

“Well, yeah. I told you it was bad” I shrug and he grabs my face to leave a little peck on my forehead

“We can do it any time you feel like it, my love” he whispers and caresses my cheek with one of his hands “I don’t think I’ve greeted you properly, lovely. What do you say?”

I shake my head, and that’s all the answer he needs. Henry leans down and kisses me fully in the mouth, taking every ounce of air I have in my lungs. The kiss is soft, but deep. There’s no rush, we have all the time in the world. At least until he has to leave again.

I grab a handful of his curls to deepen the kiss even more, to show him how much I yearn for him, how much I’ve missed his touch and the feeling of him against me.

When we are in need of air, we break the kiss and smile like fools to one another. There’s no need to say anything. He’s here, he’s home with me.

“What do you say we put the Christmas tree up, right now and when we’re done, we watch some Christmas special?” I ask while stroking his cheek, softly, making him lean into my touch.

“I’d love to.”

General taglist: @milkathedudz  @little-baby-vixen

Henry Cavill taglist:  @tillthelandslide @cavill-sass​ @al-wiisa​ @kmuir1​ @hoeforhenry​

[aethersea]

you know what, I never do these things, but actually I’ve decided I would like to get to know people better! I would like to partake of the mortifying ordeal! I would like to talk about myself for a bit!

ok for the next...let’s say five days I will answer any of these things that people tag me in, or any random personal questions you plop in my ask box. I don’t have an ask meme on hand but just....pick one you’ve seen recently, or make up questions of your own, and I’ll answer. (the answer might be ‘nope that’s private’ but I will answer.) (@ the anon who asked for book recs - I see you, I’ve been thinking of books all day, I’m going to give you SUCH a long answer, I hope you don’t regret your choices bc it WILL be full of gushing)

alright, let’s go!

🌻 Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @booksandchainmail​

Last Song: I’m currently listening to “Falcon in the Dive” from the Scarlet Pimpernel musical on loop. I watched one or two Scarlet Pimpernel movies when I was just barely too young to fully get what was going on, and the story’s held an odd but deep-seated place in my heart ever since. A few years ago I found out there’s a musical and most of the songs are pretty stellar (go listen to “Madame Guillotine” if you like big ensemble broadway numbers, it’s a banger, the bit where he cries out for God has been running through my mind on and off for a few days now haha not like that’s topical or anything), so every once in a while I spend a few days listening to them a lot.

Sometime last year I read the actual book, and got super into the whole concept of the Scarlet Pimpernel for a while. I plotted out Pimpernel aus for several fandoms, I read the entire wikipedia article, and I went looking for bootlegs of the musical. I didn’t find one, but I did find a full radioplay-style recording of the script, complete with full musical numbers, and listened to it like a podcast.

Reader, I was so disappointed. The play adds some scenes, bc a lot of the dramatic tension of the novel comes from internal conflict and that doesn’t stage super well, and the very first scene of this play – a play written in the NINETIES – features our dashing hero rescuing some aristocrats from a French prison, and then saying to the person in the next cell, who begs for rescue but is not an aristocrat, “We have enough of your kind in England.”

Enough! of your KIND! What in the merry frickety HECK my dudes!! The book has some rather unfortunate™ takes but it is from 1905, it’s regrettable but sadly to be expected. This play is from 1997. It has NO excuse. This scene wasn’t even in the book! What! the heck!

I was so disheartened that I lost my excitement for the play, and a couple songs later I stopped listening. It occurred to me just a few days ago that you could actually stage that ironically, with the person in the cell giving the audience a “can you believe this” look, and then the rest of the play could feature assorted non-aristocratic ensemble members constantly looking at the audience like they’re on The Office. And hey, maybe that’s what they did, or something similar – maybe that was never meant to be taken as a cleanly heroic stance, and the play deals with it in a complex way. It’s possible. I wouldn’t know. Kinda doubt it though, based on song lyrics.

Favorite Color: red, probably

Last Movie: I watched that new lesbian christmas movie with my family for christmas, the one with kirsten stewart and the guy from schitt’s creek. it’s very sweet and good and kinda sad, and I really enjoyed it. it also incidentally has the best gay best friend trope in probably anything ever, bc it’s not a trope (I didn’t realize until several hours after watching that it technically fits), it’s just a guy who is the protagonist’s best friend, and they’re just all gay, and then when he Gives Relationship Advice as a gay best friend always does, it’s advice about how to deal with your partner’s hangups around coming out.

actually every part of the gay best friend trope becomes better when they’re just best friends who are both gay. the big dramatic gestures (in this case, driving some ungodly distance in the snow on no notice) go from “haha how kooky” to “queer man will do anything he needs to to rescue his queer friend from an isolating & potentially triggering situation”. the relationship advice isn’t “honey you deserve some self-respect, treat yourself”, it’s a deeply sincere reminder of the vulnerability that is shared across almost everyone’s queer experience, and look I could ramble about this for a long time before reaching a coherent point but I’m INTO IT, okay? I’m into it.

Last Show: you want me to remember what show I last finished???? impossible, cannot be done, it was a long time ago and the adhd has eaten everything that happened before last week. here, instead I’ll tell you about another movie I watched, late at night with my mom in cozy companionship just a couple days ago. it’s called Quigley Down Under and it’s about a cowboy who goes to Australia and kills a bunch of racists, 10/10 would watch again. it’s from 1990 but it feels much older, with the music choices and the cinematography of a 70s Western. the cowboy is great, honorable and fearless and kind, but the breakaway star of this movie for me is the woman who attaches herself to his side and refuses to leave. her name is Cora, and she’s crazy, in the sense that she’s not altogether tethered to reality, but this never for a second diminishes her agency. she’s fierce and clever and compassionate, and she basically never does anything she doesn’t want to in the whole movie. her arc is about overcoming trauma by taking charge of her own fear and facing it head-on, she is never belittled or dismissed by the narrative or the protagonist, and look she’s just so cool. I love her. she’s so vibrantly alive. her story could probably have been handled with a bit more nuance, but honestly for the 90s it’s pretty great. I’m no expert, but I found nothing objectionable in it, just a bit of heavy-handedness.

anyway the theme of the movie is that racism is evil and racists deserve to be shot, and this too could have been handled better (not a single aboriginal character speaks a single line of english in this movie), but it follows through on that message in every way, while still being a fun kinda campy cowboy movie. overall a very good time.

Currently Watching: started showing my sister Hilda the other day, and she’s liking it! I love that show, it’s so incredibly cute. can’t wait to see season 2

Currently Reading: lmao I wish. lately the brain has firmly rejected all attempts to read anything of any length. currently pending, bc I was halfway through them when my brain stalled out, are tano’s fic What Does Kill You Can Make You Stronger, Too, a Toby Daye book - I think it was The Brightest Fell, I got like half a chapter in and haven’t picked it up in over a month, the Locked Tomb series, and probably a few other things too. ooh! also a book called Making Sex by thomas laqueur, which is my fancy academic reading that I’ve been doing in short bursts for the past year or two when I feel fancy and academic. it’s about the development of the concept of biological sex and of gender in Western society, and it’s fascinating. has among other things introduced me to the idea that until quite recently, fathers were a matter of faith. the mother? yeah, you can watch the baby pop out, we all know who the mother is. but the father? how can you know? how can you really know? we have paternity tests these days, but for all of human history up until now, we've just had to take fatherhood on faith. (not to mention we didn’t even know what fathers were contributing to the production of a fetus. clearly it was something, since you can’t get pregnant without a penis getting involved, but we have literally not known what until the past few decades. and that is wild. it has colored ALL of human history, all of our conceptions of society and family and kinship and gender, all of it, and it hadn’t even occurred to me until it was spelled out for me in this book, and it’s just......wow.

Salty, sweet or savory: for christmas my sister and I made seven different types of cookie, most of them involving chocolate somehow.

Craving: no bc I ate so many cookies. unless sleep counts. or maybe pringles, it’s been many moons since last I had a potato chip and I miss them.

Coffee or Tea: no thank you

Tagging: @coloursisee, @krchy-tuna, @sam-j-squirrel, @xzienne, @mirandatam, @viciousmaukeries, @sepulchritude, @elidyce, and @navigatorsnorth bc it’s been a while since we’ve talked, and I’m super hyped that you’re married now. v happy for you!

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 21

Series Masterlist

Chapter 21

A/N: Italics are your thoughts

Summary: You and Fred begin your trip in Denmark by spending time with both of your families. You are nervous to see his dad and your grandparents, given that last time you didn’t have good conversations with either.

Warnings: Drinking, swearing, smut, Freddie being a dad

Word Count: 7600

July 7, 2023

“I remember our last flight to Denmark being much more fun” Fred whispers in your ear as you lie in bed. You arrived a few hours ago for a visit and are staying in a hotel. You kept your first day pretty relaxed as you all tried to adjust to the jetlag.

“Well I don’t think our in-flight entertainment from 2 years ago would be suitable with him around” you say looking to Oliver who is sleeping.

“That’s fair” Fred laughs. “He wasn’t that difficult to fly with last year”

“Well babies typically fly better because you can feed them and they fall asleep and don’t notice the pressure changes. Unfortunately he is old enough to feel it, making our flight very interesting.”

“And you didn’t want to fly private” Fred jokes kissing your head.

“I didn’t think it was necessary…” you trail off. Oliver spent most of the flight crying, you tried soothing him and playing movies, trying to get him to nap but nothing would help. You had almost gotten him to sleep when the plane hit some turbulence waking him up. “But flying commercial would have been brutal; I would have felt so bad for everyone onboard. You were right.”

“What was that?” he asks grinning at you. You know he heard you perfectly.

You smile and turn your head to him “I said you were right.”

Fred pumps his hand in the air “yes” he exclaims quietly to not wake Oliver. You laugh lightly when Fred rolls on top of you and kisses your forehead.

“I like being right” he says smiling at you.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him lightly “keep it up and it won’t happen again.”

Fred laughs and kisses you again. He drops down and places his head on your chest, his hand slides under your shirt, lightly rubbing circles on your skin. Your hand slides up to his hair and you gently begin running your hand through his red hair.

“Ready for our families?” he asks lightly.

You groan in response “I don’t know if I will ever be ready.”

It’s the first time you will be spending with Fred’s family in almost two years. You have talked with his mom a bit, but most of your conversations have been about Oliver. The only time you have talked to Ernst is when Fred is on the phone and you would tell him to say hi for you.

If you weren’t nervous enough for seeing his family, your grandparents are also coming to town. They were going to be in London for part of July and Fred suggested (and coordinated) for them to visit a few days. But they aren’t just spending time with the three of you; they are also meeting Fred’s family and siblings.

“It’s not going to be that bad skat” he says stroking up your side.

“Last time I saw your dad he called me a gold digger” you whisper.

Fred stills on top of you before pushing himself onto his elbows. “My dad wanted to talk to you last year at his birthday, I asked him not too. I didn’t want it to take away from his first birthday for you.”

“Well I’m not overly worried about your family” you explain. “Your mom messaged me on Instagram saying she was excited to see me, something about a girl’s day with your sister” Fred smiles at that before you continue. “Last time I saw my grandparents they basically told me they didn’t approve of how I’m living my life or raising my son.”

“Okay, but that was a year ago. Things have changed since then.”

“But they shouldn’t have to; I shouldn’t have to be with my father’s son to get their approval. Like obviously I am very happy we’re together, but that shouldn’t impact their opinion of me. And they won’t approve of us not being married but living together” you exclaim.

“They should have supported you from the beginning. I’m not going to argue that, and I’m sorry that this has been happening. But maybe they have realized they’re wrong and want to try and repair the relationship. Why else would they agree to see you?”

He moves to lie on his side, and pulls you in tight to his chest. “Because they haven’t had the opportunity to meet him” you say looking to Oliver.

“Or it’s because they love you and miss you” he says kissing your temple. “Try to sleep, everything will be fine. And if it’s not well it’s only a couple days, and I’ll be by your side the entire time.” Fred lightly draws circles on your waist as his breathing slows. You feel him drift to sleep beside you; you lay there staring at the ceiling.

A million thoughts run in your head as your heart races. You focus on Fred’s breathing trying to match his in attempt to calm your heart. You shouldn’t be this worried, you know Fred’s family is happy to see you, and his mom has given you subtle hints that Ernst is excited as well. And you have dealt with your grandparents your entire life; it’s not new to you. Eventually you shut your mind off and drift off.

“Momma” you hear as you feel a little body crawling on the bed. Your eyes flutter open to see your son smiling as he crawls up the bed.

“Up momma” he says jumping on your stomach.

“Umph” you say as air leaves your chest. A wide smile spreads across your face as you pull Oliver in to tickle him. Fred sits in the bed and sets a coffee on the table. “Little man said it’s almost lunchtime so you had to get up.

Your eyes go wide, “lunchtime?” you question. You turn and look at the clock and realize it’s after 11 “wow, I didn’t get a good sleep last night.”

“I know, you woke me up with all your tossing and turning” he says, you look up at him and see the bags under his eyes. Guilt washes over you as you realize he has been up for the past few hours with your son, playing with him and keeping him quiet so you could sleep when he himself didn’t sleep that well.

“I’m sorry babe” you say looking up at him.

“Its fine” he says sighing “but I told you that you don’t need to be stressed. Everything is going to go well, and we will have a few days to relax once this is all over.” Fred kisses your forehead and takes Oliver out of the room so you can get ready.

An hour later you are ready for the day and walk to the living room. You can hear Oliver starting to fuss a little “Ollie bud you ready for lunch?” you ask as you adjust the clasp on your watch. He runs over to you “yeah” he yells.

“Okay, let’s get your shoes on then we can go.” You all head to the door and put your shoes on “let me just grab my hat” Fred says wandering to the bedroom. You hear a knock on the door, and without even looking through the peephole you open it.

“Grandma, Grandpa!” you exclaim staring at the people in front of you. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“Your grandfather told the movers to come on the 10th not the 12th by mistake and we weren’t able to reschedule. Instead of having one day with you, we decided to come a day early and get two days with our great-grandson.” Your grandma bends down to Oliver’s eye level and him being the social butterfly he is immediately says hi to her with a smile.

“You’re moving?” you question.

Your grandma has a conversation with Oliver about the ninja turtle shirt he is wearing while your grandpa answers “yeah, we’ve been finding it hard to do the back and forth between Toronto and England multiple times throughout the year.” “So you’re moving back to Toronto?”

“For now, that house is too big too and we can’t do the grass cutting and snow shovelling. We don’t need the space so we are going to move somewhere smaller with no maintenance” he responds.

A ping of guilt washes over you because they are right. They are around 80 and you can see the frailness in their eyes. The past few years you haven’t had much of relationship with them, but that was your choice. The last time you saw them was last summer, and your visit was cut very short. They had reached out and you had been too bitter to respond, and now almost 2 ½ years had gone by since you had any real contact with them.

You want them in your life; they are the only family you have left and you love them. But you don’t know if you can handle the judgment and ridicule. You feel a lump in your throat but before you can respond Fred rubs up beside you.

You didn’t even hear him walk down the hall and are only snapped from your thoughts when you hear your grandpa speak.

“You must be Frederik” he says. “I’m John and this is Debbie, we’re (Y/N)’s grandparents.” Fred gives you a sideways glance before sticking his hand out to shake his hand. He turns to your grandma who immediately hugs him.

“(Y/N) told me you were a hockey player, but she never said you were this handsome” she says pulling back.

“Grandma!” you exclaim. A blush spreads across both your and Fred’s face.

“There was mix-up with the movers so they decided to come down early to get more than a day with us” you explain.

“Great” Fred says. “We were going to grab lunch and then take this guy to the park; we’d love for you to join us.”

“They just got in Fred, they probably want to unpack and relax -” you start to say.

“Oh nonsense” your Grandma cuts you off “we’d love to come, just don’t want to impose we know its very last minute.”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition, I insist” Fred says to them. With that the 5 of you leave the hotel and walk to a small café and grab lunch.

“He reminds me of you as a baby” your grandma says partway through lunch looking to Oliver who is peacefully sitting in his highchair eating.

“You were always a well behaved baby. When we would take you out to restaurants, neighbouring tables would always give us concerned look, since some babies don’t do well in restaurants. But you would just sit there and colour while waiting, and would eat quietly. Half the time you wouldn’t even know there was a baby with us.”

You smile lightly “I never knew that.”

“I see a lot of you in him. Not in his physical appearance, he is a spitting image of his father, but in other ways” your grandpa says.

“What was she like as a baby?” Fred asks. “Or even as a kid? I don’t know much about it. She showed me one photo album and told me a few stories but that’s it.”

“Trouble” your grandpa says laughing. “She was an angel in public, but at home she went a mile a minute. Basically ran before she walked, and nothing could stop her.”

“She always wanted to be outside, getting messy. Jumping in mud puddles” you grandma adds.

Fred laughs at that, giving your thigh a light squeeze “sounds like a toddler I know” he smiles.

“Well we have cases of photo albums and home movies that are being shipped back to Canada. Next time you’re in Toronto stop by and we will show you them” your grandma says. “We have a lot of stuff, some blankets, bibs, stuff that was your dads, which you used as a kid too. Your first pair of hockey skates was his first pair.” A smile spreads across your face, you didn’t even know they had this stuff, let alone kept it.

“I will definitely come over to look at all these things, but you have to promise me embarrassing stories too” Fred says half joking.

“Why wait until you come to Toronto, we can tell you some now” your grandma responds.

You groan loudly in displeasure. “I think it’s time to go to the park now” you say trying to change the conversation.

While at the park Fred, John and Oliver play together while you and your grandma sit on a bench watching. “I’m sorry about what I said last time I saw you” she says lightly.

“So am I grandma” you agree.

“No, you reacted how you should have. We shouldn’t have said those things to you. It’s taken us a bit to realize that times have changed, and that not everyone has conventional families. You have done a great job raising that boy; he is happy, well-behaved and loved. That’s all that should matter.”

Tears have begun to well in your eyes; you grab her cool hand and hold it in yours. “I am happy that you and Fred are together and you are all a family now. But if that changes, you will always have my support. I just wish I could have shown you that before.”

You kiss her cheek and rest your head on her shoulder “Thank you, but I hope that never happens” you say.

“Your grandpa and I have talked about moving to Pittsburgh so we can be near you and spend some time with Oliver. We understand that you are staying there with Fred, and we would like make up for lost time and –.” Before she can continue you wrap your arms around her.

The tears have now started to spill down your cheeks. Your grandma looks at you “oh dear, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she says wiping them.

“No no Grandma, these are happy tears. I would love it if you came, and so would Fred and Oliver. I think it would be awesome. Be good for Oliver to have family so close since Fred’s family is in Denmark.”

Your grandma smiles and pulls you in tight for a hug. You eventually wander back to the hotel. As you are in the elevator your grandpa says “maybe we can all grab breakfast tomorrow.” “No” Fred says. “We’re not done seeing you today. Join us with my family tonight.” “Oh Frederik we wouldn’t want to impose” she says.

“You wouldn’t be, they are excited to meet you. I’m sure it would be fine” Fred responds.

“That’s okay dear, we are kind of tired from the flight and chasing this guy around the park” your grandma says looking to Oliver. “We will meet them tomorrow as planned though.”

“Okay grandma, love you” you say walking over and hugging and kissing them both on the cheek before they open the door to their hotel room.

You walk into the room and set Oliver down for a nap. Fred’s large arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you in close “you okay? I saw you crying at the park.”

“Yeah that was just from regret I think. All the things I missed, they missed and Oliver missed because I was stubborn. I just…I’m happy I have the time to repair my relationship and Oliver can get to know them.” You feel Fred’s lift graze your head as his arms stoke up and down your arms.

“They mentioned they might move to Pittsburgh” you say looking up at him.

“Yeah John mentioned that to me at the park, I think it would be great” he responds kissing you lightly.

“Me too” you say with a smile.

That night you head to Fred’s parents’ house. As soon as you open the door you hear laughter and music being played and loud conversations. Fred’s parents invited some of his aunts, uncles and cousins down to see you guys.

“Down mommy” Oliver squeals wanting to get inside and see everyone. You set him down and he immediately takes off running into the party. You and Fred laugh as you make your way into the house.

“Frederik” Charlotte exclaims wrapping him in a big hug.

“Hey mom” he says kissing her cheek. She lets go and wraps her arms around you “where is my grandson?” she asks.

“He took off as soon as we opened the door, was too excited to see everyone” you say smiling.

She immediately hands you each a glass of wine and chats with you as she gets some of the food ready. A few minutes later Oliver comes running into the kitchen “daddy I have a drink?” he asks tugging on Fred’s hand.

Before he has the chance to respond Charlotte scoops his up in a large hug “of course you can” she says walking to the fridge “what do you want?” she asks listing off the choices.

“Can I have juice?” he asks.

“Of course you can. I also made some chocolate chip cookies, you want one?“ she asks and Oliver nods with a big smile on his face.

“Mom” Fred groans.

“Oh hush he can have one before dinner” she says opening the container and handing one to him before he runs off.

“Every time she sees him she spoils him” Fred groans causing you to laugh.

“That’s what grandma’s do” you laugh. “If my mom was here, she would be the worst for it.”

After dinner Fred is pulled into conversations with some of his dad and uncles, as you are in the kitchen with Charlotte, Amalie and a couple of his aunts. You are looking out the window as Oliver plays with Fred’s brothers, it is way past his bedtime but you know he is too excited to sleep right now.

“If you aren’t careful your glass will never empty” Amalie says drawing your attention back to the room. You look at your glass which is now full, Amalie nods towards her mother “she has a reputation for bottomless wine.”

“Not a bad problem to have” you say laughing and taking a sip.

“That is until Oliver wakes up at 7am” Amalie smiles.

“Yeah and Fred has had more than me, one of us should be responsible tonight so we can feed him in the morning.”

“I’m really glad you are with him” Amalie says moving closer to you. “I know we don’t know each other all that well but Fred was unbearable last summer when he came to visit” she says to you.

“Yeah, that was my fault. Wish I could have figured this out sooner” you say lightly.

“Would have been good, but you’re here now. That’s what important” she starts taking a sip of wine. “Two years ago when you were pregnant and visited I knew you would end up together. We both did” she says nodding to her mother. “Fred didn’t see it, or maybe he didn’t want to see it but we could tell. When I watched you two experience his first kick, I knew then. I’m so happy you’re with him and now I have a sister.”

You wrap your arms around her “I’m so happy to have a sister, I was an only child growing up.”

You turn your head and see Fred staring at you smiling as he watches you. Soon you hear Oliver crying which draws both of your attention. Fred walks over to him and picks him up and carries him to the kitchen.

“Somebody thinks they are a big boy and can stay up late. And then he falls and normally would get up and keep running, but because it’s almost an hour and a half past his bedtime it’s the worst thing ever” Fred says of the screaming toddler in his arms. You laugh and kiss your sons cheek which doesn’t help his tantrum “let’s get him home and to bed” Fred says.

Oliver fuses while you say goodbye to everyone, and screams when you attempt to buckle him into the car seat. Before you had even made it down the street Oliver had fallen asleep in his car seat.

“All that fussing and he is asleep in under a minute” Fred laughs.

When you arrive at the hotel you carefully remove Oliver and make your way to your room. You put Oliver to bed and see Fred lying fully clothed in bed. You walk over and pull his shirt over his head when Fred wraps his arms around you pulling you into the bed with him.

You are a tangled mess of limbs when he starts kissing your neck. “Babe” you groan “you’re drunk.”

“So? Hasn’t stopped you before” he jokes. He tries to shuffle his weight to be over you, but instead he trips and falls onto the bed. “You haven’t been this drunk before Freddie. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

You try to move away when Fred places a sloppy kiss on your cheek “take all the advantages you want babe” he growls.

His arms wrap around you and he nips at your ear. You through your head back and laugh as he slides a hand up your shirt.

“Not gonna give up are you?” you joke to him.

“Nope” he says nipping your neck “might as well give in babe.”

You roll to straddle him and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Make you a deal” you whisper against his lips. “I’m going to the bathroom to get ready for bed. If you are still awake and have your pants off when I get back, we can do whatever you want.” You kiss him and he moans into the kiss, you pull away and smirk at him before walking into the bathroom.

When you walk back into the room Fred is asleep his legs hanging off the side of the bed; he has unbuttoned his jeans but never managed to pull them his legs. You laugh at the sight and swing his legs back onto the bed, you attempt to pull his jeans down but Fred mumbles and rolls over.

You give up and crawl into bed beside him pulling the duvet over the both of you. You kiss Fred on the cheek before turning the light off. The next morning, because Oliver stayed up almost 2 hours past his bedtime he slept in until 9. You however had woken up at 8:15, alarmed to see Fred beside you as you assumed Oliver would have woken up by then.

Fred is sprawled out on his stomach, you see a half drank bottle of water on the table beside him. His hair has fallen in front of his eyes, the duvet is hung low on his hips. You see his jeans in a pile on the floor, indicating he woke up at some point in the night. You hear his soft snores, you lean over and place a soft kiss on his temple before crawling out of bed.

You have a shower and order breakfast to the suite when Oliver finally stirs. You quickly walk over and pick him up “hey bud” you whisper “gotta be quiet daddy is sleeping.” You place a kiss on his forehead and get him changed for the day when the food arrives.

You set the food up and put a plate in front of Oliver. You stand up to grab a coffee cup when Fred wraps his arms around you. You can smell the whiskey and wine on him, and feel his warmth from his shirtless body pressed against you “morning” he groans kissing your cheek before sitting down.

You pour him some water and hand him a coffee and breakfast. When you sit beside him you see bags under his eyes, his face is flushed and he is eating slowly indicating his stomach isn’t feeling the best. He pushes his eggs around on his plate, picking at his breakfast.

“Daddy uncle ‘Bastian is so funny” Oliver says. Fred looks up at him and smiles lightly while Oliver rambles on about some of last night’s activities. Oliver finishes his breakfast and Fred helps him down before leaning back in his chair taking a large sip of water.

“I feel fucking terrible” Fred says quietly. You stand up and kiss his cheek before handing him some Tylenol.

“Thanks babe” he replies taking the Tylenol. “How are you doing?” he asks.

You smile and take a sip of coffee “much better than you” you joke and he chuckles.

“No I’m actually doing okay. I stopped before you, and drank a lot less than you. I also had water before bed. Tried to get you to drink some but you passed out with your jeans still on.”

“Yeah I woke up around 4 and drank some but it was too late then” he explains.

“Go have a nap babe, it’ll help you feel better.” Fred stands up and kisses your check before walking to the bedroom and closes the door. You and Oliver play in the living room for a few hours when you hear the shower turn on.

A half hour later Fred walks out and you see some colour has returned to his cheeks. He has on a pair or cargo shorts and a white tee with a black Nike hat “daddy” Oliver squeals running to him.

“Hey big guy” he says throwing Oliver up in the air and tickling him.

“Feeling better?” you ask Fred. He kisses your cheek “yes, the nap helped.” He places a soft kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to Oliver.

“Told my grandparents we’d be leaving in an hour” you say to Fred who is play wrestling with Oliver. You can tell he didn’t really hear you as he pretends to body slam Oliver into the couch “again daddy again!” he squeals. Fred looks up to you and you point to the bedroom, indicating you are going to get ready. He nods before turning his attention back to Oliver.

That afternoon you all arrive at his parents’ house, and are greeted with large hugs. You are so nervous you could almost puke. Fred said not to worry, but you have been so anxious about being around his dad. With everyone over the night before you didn’t have a chance to talk with Ernst much, but tonight it is a much smaller crowd.

Tonight it’s just his parents and your grandparents. His siblings aren’t even home so you know you will likely talk with Ernst at some point. Oliver wanders off to play with some toys Charlotte has set out for him. You are immediately given a glass of wine although you doubt Fred will drink much; your families introduce themselves to each other.

“So you live in England?” Ernst asks to your grandparents.

“We split our time between England and Toronto” your grandpa explains. “I was born in England and have some family here, so we have a flat that we stay in throughout the year. But we recently decided it was too hard splitting our time.”

“So you’re moving back to Toronto?” Charlotte questions.

“For now yes. We are considering moving to Pittsburgh to be closer to (Y/N). Maybe babysit Oliver…” your grandma says.

“Oliver would love that” Fred says.

“I know, spending time with him is the best. We are spending 4 nights with Oliver after you return to England and I am so excited for all that time with him.” Charlotte says.

You shoot Fred a questioning glance “4 nights? Interesting, I didn’t know we were going anywhere without him.”

“I have something planned” he explains shrugging walking over to Oliver to play with him.

“Do I get to know these plans?” you ask.

“Nope” he responds, popping the “p” while grinning before he turns his attention to Oliver.

“A surprise vacation” your grandma says “that will be exciting!”

“Yeah, he has a tendency to plan surprise trips and not tell me” you explain shooting a sideways glance to Fred who is sitting on the floor smiling while pretending not to hear you.

“You’re father used to plan surprise trips for your mother. Sometimes they would be day trips, but he did plan their 10 year anniversary trip without her knowing, even booked time off with her work and everything” your grandpa tells you.

“She loved them, would come back smiling and couldn’t stop talking about them for weeks” your grandma explains. Fred has picked Oliver up and is walking over to you.

“Hopefully this one goes better than the last one” Fred jokes. Everyone sends confused glances towards you both.

“Last one started really well, it was the last couple hours that went horribly” you laugh lightly. “But that won’t happen this time, guaranteed.”

You look at Fred who is now standing beside you; he kisses your forehead “good” he says lightly.

“Dinners ready” Charlotte says. You all sit around the table eating and drinking, your grandparents sharing many embarrassing stories from your childhood. You can tell Fred loves hearing all this content as a smile hasn’t left his face the entire time. You look over to Oliver and notice him beginning to doze off, so you scoop him up and change him into pyjamas before taking him to a room to sleep. When you make your way back to the living room you see people are making their way to the living room.

Ernst walks up to you “(Y/N) can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah of course” you reply as you follow him outside to the patio, butterflies filling your stomach. You sit on one of the patio chairs while Ernst leans against the railing.

“I wanted to apologize to you for what I said when you visited last time”

“You don’t have to apologize you were protecting your son. It’s something I understand now more than ever.”

“Still I shouldn’t have said that to you. I genuinely am sorry. I also wish this apology came much sooner. You have been good for Frederik, I haven’t seen him this happy before.”

“Thank you for the apology. But I understand. It wasn’t an ideal situation how all this transpired. But everything worked out and I wouldn’t change it.” You pause for a second before laughing “Actually I would have met and been in a relationship with him before I got pregnant to make things a million times easier. But everything worked out.”

Ernst laughs a little at your comment. “Yeah it sure did. You and Oliver have changed Fred. I see it. I’m happy you’re in Fred’s life and a part of this family.”

You stand up and walk over to him and give him a hug. You look inside and see Fred staring out at you, watching the exchange.

“I’m also sorry for my comment about your parents. That was completely out of line.”

“Ernst I forgive you, I did a while ago.”

“Still I needed to acknowledge it” he says pulling you in tighter. “I like you (Y/N). You make my son very happy, I wish I could have seen it sooner.”

“It wasn’t an easy path Ernst, all that matters is where we are now” you say smiling at him as you separate.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. And thank you for sending Charlotte the abundance of baby content. Even though we didn’t have the best relationship, you managed to put family first. It really shows the type of person you are and how you were raised” he says.

You can feel a ball forming in your throat, before Ernst continues. “Hopefully Fred locks you down before you wise up and realize you’re too good for him.” This causes you to laugh “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Good, I can’t wait to call you my daughter-in-law. Maybe that’s what he has planned on your trip” he says winking and walking back inside.

You stand outside dumbfounded for a few minutes. Is Fred going to propose? I only recently moved back in and we haven’t had conversations about this. A proposal is normally a surprise, but I should have some inclination that it’s coming at some point. We haven’t even said I love you yet, not that I don’t love him. I do love him, and I think he loves me. But shouldn’t we say it to one another before an engagement? After a few minutes and many deep breaths you finally join everyone else inside. You sit on the couch beside Fred who gives you a concerned glance; he watched the entire exchange with his father and can tell your demeanor has shifted. You shoot him a soft smile, trying to reassure him you are okay but you honestly don’t know if you are.

“Are you okay” your grandma asks. “You are awfully quiet.”

“Yeah I’m just getting kind of tired” you lie, but it is somewhat believable since it’s almost 11:30. Everything since your conversation with Ernst has been a blur; you have barely been engaged in the conversation. You can tell Fred is worried about you, you have felt him constantly staring at you all night.

“Yeah” your grandpa blindly agrees. “If we stay we will open another bottle, and we will hate ourselves on our flight tomorrow for it.”

“We should probably be getting back” Fred says squeezing your thigh as he stands up.

You make your way to the door while Fred carefully collects Oliver without waking him. You hug his parent’s goodbye before heading out the car for the drive home. Fred carries a causal conversation with your grandparents as you stare out the window.

A half an hour later you have returned to your hotel, and Oliver is fast asleep in the other room. Fred has changed and is in bed, his back pressed against the headboard. You move to the bathroom to start your night routine, taking your time. You know Fred is going to want to talk about what happened that night, your conversation with his father.

You however are so anxious you could almost vomit. Things are going good between you, and if you’re being honest with yourself you do see yourself marrying him in the future, you just aren’t ready yet. You take extra-long in the bathroom, hoping Fred has fallen asleep and you can avoid this conversation for now, but when you open the door you see him still awake and the lights on.

You crawl into bed, laying a foot away from him looking at the ceiling. You sit in silence for what feels like an hour but was likely only minute before you head Fred take a deep breath.

“What’s going on (Y/N)?” he quietly asks.

“Nothing” you whisper.

He turns his head to you, but you can’t make eye contact still staring at the light fixture on the ceiling.

“Please don’t lie. I saw you outside with my dad for a bit, and he left you out there. You stayed outside a bit after he came in, did he say something? If he did, please tell me so I can talk to him. It’s not okay…” You can feel your heart rate pick up. You can’t focus on what Fred is saying as he keeps rambling.

“Are you going to propose?” you whisper, unable to speak louder.

“What?” he asks.

“Are you going to propose?” you repeat much louder this time. You turn to look at him. He stares at you for a minute before bursting out laughing.

“Is that why you were acting so weird? What gave you that idea?”

“Your dad” you mumble.

“My dad?” he asks.

“He said how he can’t wait until I’m his daughter-in-law. Then he said maybe you had planned on doing it on the trip in a few days.”

Fred shifts in the bed to lay beside you “Elskede I’m not planning on proposing to you on this trip, I don’t have a ring. I’m glad you and my dad are getting along though, I was really worried about what happened.” You roll to your side to look at him, he pushes your hair behind your ear and kisses you lightly. “It’s good to know where you are on that though, would marrying me be that terrible?”

“No babe. I can see that, the white dress, you and Oliver in matching tuxedos; I’m just not there yet. Like I know it’s been two and a half years since we met, but we weren’t together for that whole time. We just moved in together, and I love living with you, and being a family. I’m just…”

Before you can finish Fred presses his lips to yours briefly before pulling back “I know” he whispers, pulling you in tight to his chest causing a light sigh to leave your lips. He tilts your chin up and looks down at you.

“Don’t worry skat, this trip is just about you and me spending some time together. Thought it would be nice to have a few days together, just you and me before the season starts.” He kisses your forehead before continuing “I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me. How much I appreciate you and everything you do. You deserve a couple days off of mom duty, and my mom is super excited to have a few days with him.” You laugh lightly at that comment before Fred closes the gap, gently pressing his lips to yours. You bring your hand up to his chest as you sink into the kiss.

“You deserve to relax” he mumbles against your lips. “Let me help you relax” he says pushing you onto your back.

You slide one hand up to his hair lightly running your hands through it, and your other slides down his stomach toying with the hem of his shirt. His hand slides down to your hips slipping under your shirt. He begins to lightly draw circles on your bare skin, you moan into the kiss.

Fred pulls away and looks down at you, you stare into his brown eyes seeing love look back at you. He stares at you for a moment, staring down at you, but it feels like he is looking into your soul. You want to tell him, you feel it on the tip of your lips but before you can open your mouth Fred kisses you. There is fire and passion behind this kiss.

His hand reaches up your shirt, palming your breast. He is playing with your nipple, before he squeezes it causing you to jump slightly. He chuckles pulling your shirt over your head, his mouth moves to your neck sucking on your sweet spot. Your head leans back into the pillow as you moan, your fingers sliding further down his back.

“Du er så smuk” he whispers in your ear before he pulls your shirt over your head “så smuk.”

His mouth attaches to your nipple, sucking on it. You bend your leg, he brings his hand to stroke up and down the back of your thigh. He slides his hand up into your pyjama shorts gently touching your folds. He slowly slides two fingers in, your hands have now moved down to cup his ass as he moves his fingers in and out slowly.

You moan his name loudly while his fingers continue to slowly thrust in and out of you. He is swirling his tongue around your nipple. You bring your hands up to his elastic band of his shorts and slide them underneath. You try to slide his boxers down his large thighs but are overcome with pleasure as Fred has increased the speed of his fingers; you can’t get your hands to fully work. He pulls his fingers out of you and helps you pull them off, his cock slapping against his chest as it frees from its restraints. He pushes your shorts down your legs, and throws them to the side.

On his way back to you, he places light kisses on the inside of your thigh as he approaches your core. His hands glide over your body, while he plants light feathery kisses on you. You melt into his touch, your moans filling the room. Your arousal is at a peak, you are practically dripping and can’t contain yourself when you feel Fred place light kisses on your wet pussy before finally licking you.

A deep moan leaves your mouth as he looks up smiling, his eyes now dark with lust. He returns his mouth to your core to lick your folds a few more times. There is something different about tonight, it isn’t rushed. Every movement is lined with passion, it’s soft and sensual.

He is gently placing kisses on your folds, while his hand lightly caresses up your thigh. He turns his head to your thigh and places soft kisses on you.

“Babe” you moan softly as he reattaches his mouth to your clit.

He lightly sucks on it before opening you up and sliding his tongue inside you. He gently pushes his tongue in and out of you, your hands slide to his shoulders while his tongue glides over your wetness.

He pulls back to suck on your clit and brings his fingers up grazing over your folds. He slowly slides a finger in, then two, slowly he slowly starts pumping his fingers in and out, curling inside as his mouth sucks on your clit.

You know that this speed won’t have your orgasm crashing over you any time soon. But tonight is about more than that and you both know it. Fred slips his mouth from you, and begins to make his way up to you, leaving a trail of soft kisses on your stomach, chest and neck.

His fingers continue to slowly pump in you, as you moan. Fred brings his head to yours and kisses you, you taste yourself on him when you feel his fingers slip out and it’s replaced by his tip which is pressed against your entrance.

He brings a hand up to your hair and engages you in a deep kiss before he slowly thrusts into you, bottoming out while keeping his lips on yours. You wrap your legs around his waist as you lift your hips and begin rocking with him. He sets a slow and sweet pace as he thrusts into you, one hand placed on the bed beside your head, the other holding your leg around him.

“Fuck you feel so good” he groans. “You’re so tight” he mumbles biting your neck gently; sending shivers through you.

Your hand is wrapped around his neck, your other on his back tightens, nails digging into his muscles. He keeps his pace slow, but every thrust is deep, pressing into your g-spot. You can feel your high slowly approaching as he keeps pushing into you. He peppers your collarbone and neck with soft kisses.

“Freddie” you moan as his cock pushes deep inside you. He almost pulls out completely before pushing back in fully. His head dips down and he starts sucking on your hard pink nipple, swirling his tongue around it. He can feel your high approaching as he keeps his pace “wait for me baby” he whispers rocking into you.

“Always” you reply.

You take your hand from his back and bring it around to your sensitive bud and begin rolling circles onto it.

“You’re something else babe” he says lightly in your ear before gently biting it.

“Fuck” you mutter, arching your back further to increase the angle he is hitting you. You hear Fred begin to mumble curse words above you as he becomes erratic and sloppy. His hand slides up your thigh to your ass lifting your hips higher, he grips your ass tightly as he continues his deep slow thrusts. Sweat is dripping down his chest, his forehead glistens in the light.

“Babe, I’m gonna…” Fred starts to say. You cut him off by kissing him passionately, you feel yourself be filled with his warmth. The feeling of his warm cum inside you has your high comes crashing over you. An intense explosion erupts within you, as you pulsate around his cock.

He collapses onto you, kissing your cheek as he stills inside you. You both take a minute to regain your breath. After a few minutes he lifts himself on his forearms and looks into your eyes, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He embraces you in his grip, locking you into a fierce kiss. He pulls out, some of his warm cum spills out and down your thigh. He gets up and heads to the bathroom for a few minutes.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of boxers on and a warm wash cloth. He gently cleans you up before pulling one of his t-shirts over your head. Fred crawls into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

Fred lies on his back, you tucked tightly into his arm. You have your hand placed softly on his chest as your hear his heart beat. The beating of his heart is a soothing sound and you begin to doze off when you hear him whisper “jeg elsker dig.”

“What was that babe?” you mumble.

“Mm, oh nothing. Go to sleep babe.”

Next Chapter

[cordoniantrash]

the seas within me

Hello one and all! There’s my day 4 submission for the Choices 12 Days of Fictmas (It’s my 2nd year doing this! Can you believe?!) . Huge thanks to  @leelee10898​ and @emichelle​ for hosting this year and to  @grenadineandsunshine​ for betaing this one (along with all my works here tbh)! 

Title from Notos by The Oh Hellos. Here’s some angst I guess?

Book: Distant Shores

Pairings: Oliver x f!MC

Rating: G

Warning: none

Words: 2770

It was snowing when they arrived. The rising sun at their back had splashed colour on the white piles of freshly fallen snow at their feet while the distant sea breeze froze them in place. Claire felt something tug at her heart. There was something about this place, an almost indescribable tingle, a feeling of a feeling, which reminded her of him. She felt like she could close her eyes and find him there. It was absurd. They haven’t even had the chance to spend a winter together. All her memories of him, of them, are tethered to the waves, the ever present salt in the air and the unrelenting heat of the sun. So why can she almost hear his voice in this cold, snow-covered place?

“Huh. Expected something fancier.”

Claire felt the corners of her lips turn into a frown. It was becoming a steady companion in this hare-brained scheme. Her frown deepened when that indistinct tugging faded at the sound of his voice. It took some effort to unclench her jaw and her fist. To bite back the venom in her retort. It wouldn’t do to annoy him out of helping me. And so, stealing herself, Claire took a deep breath and repeated the mantra that began the moment she agreed to this plan.

Just until I get back.

Just until I find them again.

Find him again.

“What time’s that tour supposed to start again?” she asked instead. Robert, ignoring the too long stretch of silence between them, stepped into her line of sight. Claire carefully wiped her face clean of emotion. Uneasy allies they might be, but she’ll be damned if she let him glimpse a crack, however small. Being betrayed once was enough for her.

If only the compass worked like last time! Suppressing a sigh, she turned back to the estate. She’d been optimistic when they reached out to touch the compass. After all, all it took for her to travel that first time was a simple touch. The devastation when nothing happened nearly sent her to her knees in the middle of the museum.  It was only a slight consolation to find out that Robert had expected the same thing.

A breeze ruffled past them, the air fresh and bitingly cold. Claire rubbed her numb nose, her frown forgotten. At the corner of her eye, she saw Robert trying to hide his shivering. Claire suppressed a smirk.

Silence once again stretched between them. A bus full of students pulled up near their rented car. Claire couldn’t help but smile at the little faces peering from the windows, all of them bundled up despite the light snow. The adults with them did not seem to mind the cold as much. Tightening her hold on her hand warmer, Claire tried not to feel jealous.

Maybe we got used to the Caribbean. Too used. Man, I really want to go back.

“Well,” Robert sighed as a staff member opened the door of the estate. “Here’s to hoping, I guess.”

“D’you think this’ll work?”

Robert glanced at her. Claire took it as her queue to walk.

“His family had the compass before some descendant of his thought it’ll be a good idea to donate it to the museum. If there’s anything that can explain why it’s not working now, it’s probably here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Robert paused, letting the last of the children run past them. “All those records of you as a captain must mean we got back.”

Claire frowned, “And what about you?”

Robert’s profile seemed to blend with the snow clouds ahead.

“That’s what we’re here to figure out, isn’t it?”

**

Vice-Admiral Sir Oliver Francis Cochrane KCB (born c. 1722-24, Durham, England—died unknown) was an English naval officer most known for his short but successful maritime career where he had earned the moniker of “The Pirate Hunter” and his much speculated and scandalous personal life. Decades after his last known sighting, he had become a well-recognized literary romantic icon.

Despite his early moniker of “The Pirate Hunter”, Cochrane had occasionally worked with pirates, particularly with the crews of Captain Edward Mortimer and the much disputed Captain Claire Velis. Whereas association with pirates is enough grounds of treason, Cochrane retained his position and rose through the ranks of the navy for his work in exposing the crimes and treason of other naval officers, most notably, his own father Francis, often with the help of Mortimer, Velis and their pirate crew.

Excerpt from High Seas and Piracy: A History of English Maritime Advances 

**

The compass was silent.

Claire turned it over, as she had done again and again since she entered her hotel room. Robert had mumbled something about rum and a free bar before awkwardly hightailing out of the lobby. Claire felt too rung out to even think of a quip about pirates and alcohol.

The golden finish of the compass seemed to glow in the dark room, mocking her with the faint possibility of a return. Outside, the Christmas decorations glitter amidst the darkness and the sea breeze.

The tour hadn’t gone exactly as planned. For them, at least.

Not for the first time, doubt crashed and tumbled in her mind. Apparently there was a reason poets after his time found Oliver so fascinating. As someone who knew him, loved him, stayed and fought at his side, whose hands were stained with his blood—

Claire closed the compass with a snap.

Her heart felt heavy, an anchor dragging her down further into despair.

Charlie had made a name for herself, doing what she loves in freedom.

Charlie, who while being wily and nimble, ultimately could not outrun an empire.

Edward, doing more good and ascending into hero hood, depending whose side you ask.

Edward, who despite his strength and loyalty, was betrayed and handed over to the British.

Oliver, the successful navy officer. Loving father of two.

Oliver, who never got to rise to the ranks he deserved, who became a widower, ultimately becoming a figure of tragic romance, his final fate unknown.

All of them were shining brightly.

All of them doused before their time.

If I go back could I change things? Can I lift them up, move them forward? Or will they run aground because of me?

The edges of the compass dug into her hands, forming indents where hands softened by inactivity pressed into the compass’ sides.

Or will I just make things worse?

To return would mean chaos, but to stay where she was supposed to belong felt hollow.

Should she even go? Either way, it will turn her world inside out. She’d cause them all grief one way or another, the family she had in this present and the family she found back in time.

The tour guide’s words echoed in her mind:

“He left England a hero and an eligible bachelor to boot. Almost a decade later he returned a father of two small foreign looking children and claimed himself a widower. His ever loyal crew refused to shed light on what happened during those years at sea.”

Claire blinked. Tasting salt on her lips, she hastily wiped away the tears that splashed onto the compass.

Outside, the fairy lights continued to twinkle. Their rhythmic pulsing at odds with the raging sea within her.

What happened after I left?

**

Oliver Cochrane was a creature of contradiction. Of chaos, one might even say. On one side, he was an exceptional officer, a step away from becoming an Admiral before he mysteriously disappeared. On the other side, he was an excellent example of British hypocrisy.

Throughout his career, Cochrane toed the line between audacity and treason.

He had exposed numerous corrupt navy officials, while he also worked with pirates. What’s more, he had a rather well-known love affair with a pirate captain.

Records at that time proclaimed the affair short-lived, painting Captain Claire Velis in a rather unflattering light but contemporary evidence now opposes that idea and posits that the identity of his deceased wife (whom historians have precious few documents about) was none other than Captain Velis herself. Common consensus among society (and among historians) was that the mysterious mother of Cochrane’s children was the pirate captain herself. Further cementing Cochrane’s strange status in both 18th century Britain and in history.

This personal life aside, his apparent friendships with Captain Edward Mortemer and Captain Charlotte “Charlie” Smith was so prominent that one of the most salient theories to ultimate fate after his disappearance was that he himself became a pirate when he last left England’s shores, a contradiction to one so hailed for his honour and morals.

Excerpt from Cochrane: Behind the Myth

***

“Oh, hello dear.”

Claire turned and almost collided with a smaller figure. The tour guide from yesterday was standing in front of her. A glance at the pin on her blazer identified the older woman as Tina. In smaller letters under the name was the word CURATOR. Claire hastily stepped back.

The curator smiled.

“Aren’t you one of the people on the tour yesterday? The names Tina,” she said as she offered her hand. Claire found herself smiling as they shook hands.

“Uh, Claire Velis. Nice to meet you,” as soon as the words left her mouth, Claire felt herself freeze. Damn it! The hell was I thinking!

Tina’s eyes seemed to sparkle, “Claire Velis, you say? My, what a coincidence!”

Claire blushed.

“My parents were fans,” she mumbled.

“I’ll say!”

“Uh… yeah.”

“You must have loved the mention of your namesake then?”

Claire arranged her face into a smile.

“Right. Yeah. It was very interesting.”

“You know, I’ve always wanted to meet Captain Claire,” at Claire’s wide eyes, Tina let out a tinkling laugh. “Of course, I never thought it’ll be a namesake, but here we are. In fact, you look quite a lot like her drawings.”

Claire swallowed, “Is that so?”

Tina nodded, “Oh, would you like a cuppa? I noticed you were very interested in the tour yesterday. Besides, it’s almost the holidays,” she leaned in, smile growing. “We’ll have some tea and some mince pies as well! What do you say?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t want to impose –“

“Oh, pish posh! It’s no imposition at all, dear.  It isn’t often we get tourists here, you know what I mean? Usually it’s always field trips and the like. Sometimes academics, if we’re lucky. Besides, tea is just the thing when it’s this cold out. ”

Claire followed the curator inside the building, bewilderment and relief making her mind buzz.

As they passed by an open doorway, Claire felt something tug at her.

A familiar tug.

Claire stopped in her tracks.

The room looked similar to the public exhibitions, with glass boxes in pedestals displaying some artefact or another. The feeling, however, was leagues away from the public rooms.

It was tugging me here.

“Oh, what a lucky find!”

Claire jumped. Tina smiled as she leaned toward the doorway.

“It’s a special display, see? We’re going to show it to the public soon.”

“W-what’s in this one?”

Tina glanced at her, eyes twinkling again. “It’s a collection of Oliver Cochrane’s personal effects. Or what’s left of them. Would you like a peak?”

“I—are you sure?”

“Of course, dear,” Tina’s eyes seemed to droop. “Captain Claire may not have had the chance to see it. At least a namesake can. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 Throat suddenly dry, Claire offered a nod.

“Let’s go then!” Tina exclaimed as she entered the room.

Claire stepped forward.

The world seemed to blink.

“Claire? You alright? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse –“

“Wha—no, no, please. It’s fine.”

Tina’s eyebrows furrowed. Claire straightened, pointedly ignoring the twinge in her temples. The headache had taken her by surprise.

So different from the first time I travelled.

“—here, just sit down here for a moment.”

“I’m really fine—“

“Of course,” Tina smoothly interjected. The curator seemed to regain some composure. “But better safe than sorry, yes? I’ll get the nurse, dear. Be back in a jiffy.”

Claire sighed as Tina left the room, exchanging a couple of words with the security guard before waving back at Claire and rounding a corner.

Claire shook her head and looked around the room.

She froze.

There was a necklace inside the display in front of her (not the one she was currently wearing. The one that belonged to her grandmother). No, this necklace was obviously old and weathered besides. The shine of the silver peeking behind dark spots. The label under it calls it a Cochrane family heirloom.

And it was the same exact copy of the one hanging on her neck.

Except she wasn’t wearing this necklace when she travelled for the first time.

Outside, the waves crashed and crested. The snow kept falling.

Going forward will mean turbulent waters and uncertain winds.

But a ship cannot sail in becalmed waters.

Inside her, hope surged.

**

1752

“Will that work?”

“Well, we haven’t been twiddling our thumbs while you were off smooching with high society.”

“Charlie.” One word contained an entire conversation’s worth of chastisement. Charlie shrugged but fell silent.

Edward sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. But it seemed like the compass is lacking a catalyst of some sort.”

“A spark if you will.”

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“No. We’re groping in the dark here. But there has to be something that can work on this side.”

Oliver sighed. “I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

Charlie smiled, “That’s the spirit. We’ll get her back here yet.”

Oliver’s lips curled into a shadow of a smile.

**

The compass was humming.

Claire and Robert stand amidst a partially shattered exhibition room. Security alarms had just started blaring while some artifacts seemed to pulse with light. Beside her, Robert looked tense. But Claire felt calm. There seemed to be some form of energy in the room for the compass to actually come to life.

“Well. Here we are. Just in time for Christmas too.”

“Yeah. Whodathunk?”

“Certainly not me, Velis.” A particularly loud alarm blared. They both winced. “You ready?”

Claire took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

“… do it then.”

There was a flash of white light.

.

.

.

A moment later, the doors burst open. The staff looked around in shock and bewilderment. The room was in chaos, that much was clear.

But there was no one inside.

**

When I was younger, I used to pretend my mother was a mermaid. My older brother had indulged my fantasies and our imaginary mermaid mother would become a fixture in my make believe plays. On the days, months and years that bordered the beginnings of our fleeting visits and even shorter holidays, I, an imaginative child prone to wild fancies, would sometimes believe my own story. 

Before I understood what really was going on, I used to ask Father of her fate. He would humour me, a twinkle in his eye as he told me she was lost at sea, a romantic fate that contrasts with the pitying looks thrown our way when Father wasn’t looking. 

Perhaps it was one of his favourite sayings that stuck this particular fancy within me. After all, he always told Eddie and me that the sea was in our blood. My older brother, ever the man of reason, took that quite literally and followed in our Father’s footsteps, becoming a sailor as soon as he could.  Experiencing adventures that our parents surely had. Whereas I was content enough to experience adventure through the page, whether through my brother’s letters or my own pen. 

But sometimes, when I look out to the sea, I can’t help but wonder if there was any truth to my childhood fancies. But that probably is just sentiment talking. Father had always remarked that my stories should set foot on a stage of some kind, something that Aunt Adelia and Uncle Axton would heartily agree with. 

Over the years, I had often wondered at the irony of a navy officer’s daughter having pirates as aunts and uncles. An unforeseen consequence of being the Pirate Queen’s progeny, I’d imagine. 

Perhaps Mother was a mermaid masquerading as a pirate. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. 

All I know is that being lost at sea, for all its romance, does not quite fit my parent’s fate. 

I hope—no. I know—they must have found each other.

The sea is in our blood, after all. 

- Excerpt from the diary of Marcelline Somerset née Cochrane, Viscountess of Ashbourne

#

A/N: This surprisingly had a lot of number wrangling that didn’t make the text (rip my last braincell - don’t get me started on the research and the excepts). Also had a bit of a crossover with The Unexpected Heiress (haven’t played it yet). Anyways, lemme know what you guys think!

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[fanficshiddles]

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 10

Esme woke up to the light jostling of the car. She sat up straight and wiped her eyes, she wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for. But when she looked out the window it was a beautiful sunny day and they were driving along a motorway.

‘Hey sleepyhead. You doing alright?’ David asked, turning around to look at her.

She just nodded.

‘We’re going to stop soon for some food at services and for a toilet break.’ Ben said, looking in the mirror at her.

‘Where are we?’ She asked quietly, her anxiousness returning about being away from her home.

‘We have just passed through the borders into Scotland. We’re heading further up into the highlands, where we live.’ David smiled.

‘You live in Scotland?’ She screeched, eyes wide in shock. She didn’t think she would be going that far away from East Meadowridge….

David chuckled at her reaction. ‘Yes. It’s a beautiful place, you’ll love it. We are stopping off in Glasgow on the way.’

Esme swallowed hard. The thought of being in a busy city didn’t exactly fill her with much excitement.

It was ten minutes later when they stopped at services. Esme was glad to get out of the car to stretch her legs, even though she had slept most of the way she was still feeling tired from travelling.

And she hadn’t exactly recovered from last night.

There were a lot of people mingling about, her senses were already overflowed with different smells from various other Alphas and omegas, betas too.

Ben and David knew she was feeling worried and a bit scared.

‘Don’t worry, you’re safe with us.’ Ben assured her, slipping his arm around her. ‘If anyone dares try anything, I will give him a wedgie.’

That made her laugh a little, which they were glad to see and hear.

Esme did notice a lot of other omegas with their Alphas. But she noticed she was the only one with more than one, which she knew wasn’t exactly the norm in the first place.

The two Alphas she was with took her into the building, they waited outside the toilets while she went into the ladies. Then they joined the queue at Burger King to get some lunch. They were almost at the front when Tom, Michael and Chris finally joined them, they’d been held up in some traffic.

After ordering, Ben, Chris and Tom took Esme to find a seat outside on a picnic bench while the other two waited inside for the food.

‘How does it feel to be away from Meadowridge?’ Chris asked Esme as he sat next to her.

‘Uhm… I don’t know really. It’s… different so far.’ She said quietly.

Tom reached across the table and put his hand over hers, her skin tingled under his touch. Even if she was feeling a bit on edge with him. ‘We truly want you to enjoy life, we want what is best for you.’ He said softly, stroking her hand.

Esme didn’t think he was lying, why would he? When she thought about it, she couldn’t understand a reason as to why they wouldn’t treat her right. As far as Alphas go, they were all good looking and fun to be around, she had learnt. Maybe she was thinking too much into it all, that they had tricked her into this. But perhaps they genuinely just fell for her and Tom couldn’t contain himself. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there?

‘I know… thank you.’ She said quietly with a smile.

She decided to try and keep an open mind. Despite the nervous butterflies in her stomach.

Michael and David joined them with all the food and they had a bit of a feast. The Alphas all ate like bears, while Esme felt stuffed after one burger and some chips.

‘Lightweight.’ Michael said playfully, grinning at her across the table when she gave up.

‘More for you guys.’ She groaned, rubbing her stomach.

After lunch, Esme felt a little better and more relaxed with the Alpha pack. When they returned to the cars, David offered her the front seat, which she accepted. Chris also joined their car instead.

‘Tom and Michael are heading straight home while we stop off in Glasgow.’ Ben explained as they set off once more.

‘Why are we stopping there?’

‘It’s for you, we are getting you a wardrobe full of new clothes.’ David said, reaching forward to give her shoulder a squeeze.

‘Really?’ She asked, surprised.

‘Of course. We can’t have you just living in that one dress forever.’ Chris chuckled.

‘I uhm… I don’t have any money with me though.’ Esme wasn’t sure how that was going to work from now on. Of course she had a bank account, but she hadn’t taken her card with her. It was still at home. She had never expected to be whisked away like she was.

‘Don’t worry, we’re going to be providing for you from now on. You don’t need to worry about that.’ David assured her.

‘What, so… I won’t be finding work?’ She was slightly panicked as she looked to Ben then over her shoulder at the other two.

‘You will not be. There’s no need. You’re our omega and we will provide for you. Tom will explain everything later once we get home. Don’t fret.’ Chris said calmly.

Esme nodded and sat back round, she kept her eyes on the road ahead of her. It started raining, but didn’t last long at all and then the sun was back out again.

‘Typical Scottish weather.’ Ben chuckled.

‘Does it get as cold as they say it does in winter?’ Esme asked.

‘It can do. We either get really bad winters or quite good ones. There’s never an in-between really. Everything doesn’t just stop when we do get snow though, unlike down in England.’ David said, reaching over to offer Esme a sweet.

‘Thanks.’ She said after picking out a red one. ‘Yeah, everyone used to go nuts when there was even a tiny bit of snow at home. It was unbelievable.’

‘Do you like the snow?’ Chris asked.

‘I do, yeah. I enjoy sledging, we had a really good hill that everyone would flock to.’ She smiled, then felt a little down thinking she wouldn’t ever go there again.

‘Wait till you see the hills around our home. Plenty of them, just waiting for the snow.’ Chris smiled.

Esme tried to think of the positives. She was going to try and think how this was going to be a new chapter of her life. New places, new people, new adventures… With five Alphas who claimed to care for her. She was getting hopeful about her future, and she was going to try and continue with that frame of mind.

When they arrived in Glasgow, she felt her nerves returning very quickly. The further into the centre they got the worse she felt. It was so busy. Cars and pedestrians everywhere.

‘It’s so busy.’ She said when they stopped at traffic lights. ‘And the buildings are so tall.’ She peeked out and up at the one next to them.

‘Don’t worry, where we live isn’t like this. We live in the countryside, on the cliffside. There’s a village a few miles away. We’ve just come here because it’s the best place to shop for clothes and anything else you shall need.’ Ben assured her, reaching over he gave her knee a squeeze.

They parked up in one of the shopping centres car parks. When they got out, Esme automatically took hold of David’s hand as he was nearest to her. He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re alright, poppet, don’t worry. You’re safe with us.’

Surprisingly, Esme did feel safe with the three Alphas as they walked through the busy shopping centre. They made sure to keep close to her, giving her hand a squeeze whenever she gave off scared or uncertain pheromones.

They managed to distract her when they entered some clothes shops. They told her the sky was the limit, not to worry about price. She was a little unsure at first, only picking out one or two dresses.

But Chris reminded her that she needed a full wardrobe. So she soon ended up with loads of bags full of clothes, that the Alphas all carried for her. The Alphas tempted her mainly towards dresses, especially light and some baggy, flowy kind of ones. But she didn’t think anything of it really.

She got some toiletries that were necessary and then before heading back to the car they got some Krispie Kreme doughnuts.

‘Oh wow. These are amazing!’ Esme said as she quickly devoured one.

‘They don’t have them in East Meadowridge?’ Chris asked, shocked.

‘Nope. Nothing exciting like this there, not really.’ Esme shrugged.

‘You’ve got some jam on your face.’ Chris grinned at her and moved in, wiping said jam from the side of her lips. He then sucked his thumb and winked at her, making her blush.

Esme had kind of enjoyed her little shopping spree in Glasgow, even if they hadn’t left the shopping centre. But at the same time, she was relieved to get back to the safety of the car. She went in the backseat for the last part of the journey, with David. Chris drove, to give Ben a break.

It was a couple of hours away from Glasgow, but Esme enjoyed the drive as the scenery was beautiful. It certainly lived up to the expectations she’d heard about Scotland.

They drove through a small village, that Esme was told is their local. There was a pub, restaurant and a small shop for the basics. It was a nice and quiet village, typical kind of one you’d find on postcards. It was cute.

Chris drove them up a steep road and then off onto a dirt track, up the cliffs. They then came to the driveway and they stopped as they got to the gates. Esme felt her stomach churn again, all she could see was a huge, at least twelve-foot-tall, concrete wall that went as far as the eye could see. The gate opened and Chris drove them through, that’s when her eyes widened when she saw what was to be her new home.

It overlooked the sea, but wasn’t right at the edge of the cliff. Though the sea was viewable, as the large boundary wall was downhill from the house. There was quite a large garden, as well as a small parking gravel area. The house itself looked pretty big, it was very open and bright, with roof to floor glass windows covering most of it.

When they came to a stop and Esme got out of the car, Tom and Michael came out to greet them.

‘Welcome to your new home, love.’ Tom grinned, opening his arms to her.

She felt a bit nervous again upon seeing him for some reason, but she accepted his embrace. She felt slightly better when she took in his scent, it was starting to become a comfort. Her omega knew that was the smell of her Alpha.

‘Did you get everything you needed in Glasgow?’ Tom asked as he leaned back to look at her, cupping the back of her head.

‘I think so… Thank you.’ She smiled.

‘Good, come on in. Let me show you around your new home.’ Tom slipped his hand to her lower back and guided her inside, while the others unpacked the car.

Esme was in shock at how large and amazing the house was. Very modern. But what caught her eye the most was the last room Tom showed her, it was going to be her room. Or more… Their room.

‘The bed is huge!’ She gasped. It was twice the size of a King-sized bed. More than enough room for… six people… she realised.

‘Exactly.’ Tom grinned, leaning down closer to her so she could feel his warm breath against her ear. ‘Plenty of room for all of us.’ He slid his hand up her back, to the back of her neck. He stroked her softly, feeling her tremble under his touch.

‘All… All of us?’ She gulped.

‘Of course. We all sleep here. However, we all have our own private rooms too if we want some alone time. But there will always be at least one of us in here with you, love. There’s a walk-in wardrobe over there, you can unpack your clothes.’ He guided her over to the wardrobe and when he slid the door open, she gasped again.

It was huuuuuge!

‘This side is mine, Michael and Ben’s clothes.’ He pointed to the right. Then he pointed to the left at the end of the wardrobe. ‘Down there is Chris and David’s space, which means you have all this for yourself.’ He said as he motioned to the closest area next to them.

‘Oh wow… Thank you.’

‘There’s one last thing, before I leave you to get unpacked and settled in.’ Tom motioned for her to follow him out into the bedroom.

The other four Alphas had all appeared, Michael and Ben sat on the end of the bed while Chris and David hovered by the dresser. There was a box sitting on said dresser that Tom picked up. He turned around and smiled widely at Esme.

‘This is a gift for you, from us. It’s something that you are to wear at all times, unless otherwise instructed.’ Tom flipped the lid open and held it out towards her.

Esme felt the colour drain from her face as she gazed into the box. She felt slightly light headed when she looked up at Tom in shock. With a shaky hand, she reached into the box and pulled it out.

It was a collar. A leather collar. But it had really soft velvet on the inside for comfort. It was just under an inch deep and it had a small silver O-ring at the front for attaching a lead. Or it could just be there to look pretty.

‘Turn around, love. I’ll put it on.’ Tom spun his finger around as he took the collar from her.

Esme turned, now faced with Michael and Ben on the bed. She smiled nervously at them then directed her gaze down.

She closed her eyes and gasped when she felt Tom’s fingers brush against her, slipping the collar around her neck. The velvet felt nice on her skin, she was glad it wasn’t leather on the inside.

Tom slid the collar through the buckle and tightened it, but not too tight to choke her. He made sure there was still a little wiggle room so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable, since she was going to be wearing it all the time.

‘There we go. How does our girl look then guys?’ Tom smiled proudly and slid his hands down her arms as he turned her around, displaying her for the others.

‘Beautiful.’ ‘Stunning.’ ‘Divine.’ Was purred between the Alphas, all eyeing her up hungrily.

Tom turned her around to face him again, he looked pleased as punch as he looked her up and down. He cupped her cheek and smiled.

‘And you’re all ours.’

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Three

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Mention of past abuse. Angst. Smut if you squint. And some nice fluff at the end.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Harry woke up around nine the next morning. You were spooning him, and he didn’t want to move. If he could stay like this forever, he would. But he knew you had to get up soon. You had to get back to your place for your family to come visit. He heard you snoring. You never snored before, or maybe he just never noticed. Suddenly, you clung to him tighter, pulling him closer to your chest. He heard you make a groaning sound, and tried not to laugh.

“Mm, Harry.” You said in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?

You let go of him and flipped onto your back. He turned over to look at you. Your eyebrows were pinched together and your mouth was parted. You groaned again, causing him to smirk.

You were having a wonderful dream. Harry’s head was between your legs, and he was just going to town on you, making you come over and over, not giving you a second to catch your breath. Just as he was about to make you come again, you felt yourself waking up.

Your eyes burst open and you were breathing heavily. You got startled by Harry looking at you.

“Sorry.” He started laughing. “What, uh, what were ya dreamin’ about?” You hide your hands in your face.

“Ugh, you.”

“And what was I doin’?” He took your hands away so he could look at you.

“Your head was between my legs.” You felt your face heating up.

“Ah, I see.” He moved the blanket out of the way and sat between your legs. “And is that somethin’ you’d like right now?”

“First thing in the morning? Isn’t that gross?”

“S’fine with me.” He shrugs. “Answer my question.”

“Y, yes I would like that.”

That was all he needed, he parted your legs and began to lick you up and down. He started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You lean up on your elbows.

“Nothing, you’re just super wet already. It’s cute. You had a little sex dream about me.”

“Harry, I will leave this bed.”

“Okay, okay.”

He dips his head back down and gets to work. Two orgasms later, and your whole body feels like jello.

“Shower?” He asks, wiping his face.

“Mhm.”

You jerk him off in the shower, letting him come on your chest. You felt like you were back in your normal routine.

“So, how are you feelin’?” He asks, diving into a bowl of oatmeal.

“About what babe?”

“Last night.”

“Oh!” You blush. “Well, I’m a little sore to be honest, but it’s alright. I was expecting it.”

“Was I too rough?”

“No, not at all. It felt incredible. Just a lot of, um, stretching.”

“Right.”

“Something we can definitely do again.” You kiss him on the cheek. “Is there anything, I could be doing for you?” You squeak. He smiles at you.

“Hmmm.” He tries to think of a sarcastic remark but decides against it. “I’m pretty content, actually. Love how deep ya take me down your throat.”

“Okay.” You wash out your bowl. “Just wanted to make sure, because you do so much for me.”

“I told you early on, I get pleasure from giving pleasure.” Your cheeks heat up. “I nearly come just about every time I go down on ya.” He kisses the top of your head. “We better get to your place.”

“Right.” You were flustered now. Even though you had been intimate only a couple hours ago, you wanted him again.

//

Around noon your mom and Nannie show up at your apartment.

“The place looks great, honey!” Your Nannie says hugging you.

“Thanks, see I put your paintings up over there.” You point to the paintings hanging in the living area.

“Harry, come here, come say hi to Nannie.” She says. Your Nannie had a funny habit of referring to herself in the third person. Harry chuckled, and gave her a hug and kiss. He greeted your mom as well.

“Are you kids hungry?” Your mom asks.

“Well, actually, I made that cauliflower you like. I thought we could just eat here.”

“Sounds good to me.” Your mom says.

As you prepare lunch, your mom and Nannie sit with Harry in the living area.

“How much longer are you in town for?” He asks Nannie.

“Only a few more days. It’s too cold for me here.”

“I can imagine. How long have you been in Florida for?”

“Oh god.” She looks to your mom. “Fifteen, sixteen years?”

“Sounds about right mum.”

“We started out as snow birds, only going for about six months. Then we stayed all the time except for summer. We actually had a summer home up in New Hampshire, in the Seabrook area.”

“Oh, I loved going there.” You say walking in with the food. “We would go to the beach for hours, it was so much fun. It was like going to camp, but better.”

“(y/n) got to spend the most time with us there. What grade were you in then?”

“You had the place from when I was in sixth through eighth grade I think.”

“That’s right, and then we started staying in Florida through the summer. We’d come up here to visit a couple weeks here and there. Traveling just got more difficult.” Nannie looks to the collage of pictures you have on the wall, and gets up to look at them. Harry just realized now he had never looked at them himself. “These are nice honey.” You get up to look at them with her.

You had pictures of you and your friends, and some of you with family. There was a picture of your and your grandparents in the center. You were just a little girl, couldn’t have been more than four.

“There’s his baby.” Nannie tears up a little bit, and so do you. “I miss him every day.”

“Me too, Nannie.” You put an arm over her shoulder. Harry really sees how this still affects you.

“Alright, we didn’t come here to be sad.” Your mom says. “Mum, come eat, please. (y/n) made a delicious lunch for us.”

You both come back over to sit down. Harry pats your leg to comfort you when you sit next to him.

“Harry’s invited me to England for Christmas.” They both look at you. Harry starts to feel nervous. “We’re booking our flights tonight.

“Oh, that’s great honey. How long will you be gone for?” Your mom asks.

“I’m not sure.” You look to Harry.

“Um, well, we’ll wanna leave a couple days before Christmas. We’ll be back before New Year’s.”

“You’ll still be around for the Hanukkah party right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Harry, you’ll come to Hanukkah won’t you? We go to my uncle’s house, Nannie’s brother, every year, it’s so much fun.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.” She looks at Nannie. “So, England, that’s great.”

“My mum and sister are there.”

“That’s right.” The room felt awkward for some reason. The food was gone. “Honey, come to the kitchen with me, I’ll help clean up.”

You follow your mother into the kitchen. She turned the sink on, and spoke to you quietly.

“That’s kind of a big trip to take with someone you’ve only known for three months. It’s more serious than a weekend away up north.”

“I know. But he asked me, and I wanted to go. He really wants me to meet his family.” You look over your shoulder to see your Nannie talking with Harry. “We love each other mom.” Your mother sighs at you. “What?”

“It just feels a little fast.”

“I promise you, we’re taking this slow still.”

“Honey, I’m not stupid. You two are practically living together.”

“We are not.”

“Then why are five pairs of his boots in your hall closet?”

“Because he leaves things here. I leave things at his place too. Then we don’t have to pack as much when we stay at each other’s places.”

“How many nights a week is he here?”

“The time is split pretty evenly.” She gives you a look. “I don’t know, a few? And I stay at his place on the weekends. We’re not together every second of the day.”

“No, your jobs get in the way of that.” She says sarcastically.

“Why can’t you be happy for me? I met an amazing guy.”

“I know, and I am happy for you. I happen to like him a lot.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t want you getting caught up in some fairy tale, that’s all.” She sighs. “Look, you’re a big girl, and at the end of the day, it’s not my life, it’s yours. I learned long ago I can’t tell you what to do anymore. I’m just giving my opinion. I’m still your mother, I have the right to ask you what you’re doing.”

“I never said you didn’t, I would just like you to trust my judgement a little.”

“Sorta hard to do that.” She says without looking at you.

“Don’t even go there.” You say lowly.

“I’m sorry honey, it’s just hard to wrap my ahead around it. You really didn’t see any red flags after four dates?”

“Obviously not!” Harry and Nannie look over at the two of you.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I will not keep my voice down. Don’t talk to me like that. You’re acting like I wanted that to happen to me.”

“I’m not acting like anything. Obviously you didn’t want that to happen. I just can’t believe that you let yourself get into a situation like that, and I would hope you would be more cautious.”

“We’ve been together three months! If he was going to assault me it would’ve happened by now!”

“What the hell is going on in here?” Nannie asks walking into the kitchen with Harry. He’s by your side instantly. Your mom turns the sink off.

“Nothing mum, we were just having a discussion.”

“It’s not nothing, look at how upset you’ve made her.” Your face was red, and you were biting your inner cheek so you wouldn’t cry. Harry had a hand on the small of your back to try to calm you. “What did you say to her, answer me.” You and your mother look at each other. “You two have been keeping a secret from me for a while, and I want to know what it is.”

“I don’t think now is the best time for this.” Harry says. You look up at him. He has just entered the belly of the beast.

“Harry, it’s okay.” You sigh. “Nannie, something really bad happened to me over a year and half ago, mom and literally everyone else in my life feel the need to constantly remind me of it.”

“Because you act like nothing happened!”

“I do not! I’ve just learned to cope. I go to therapy. Would you prefer I walked around like a schlub all day? Depressed and angry?”

“Of course I wouldn’t prefer it, but-“

“What happened?” Nannie asks again. “I can take it.”

“I don’t want to tell you. Everyone looks at me differently after I tell them, I don’t want that for you too.” You start crying and rush out to your room, closing the door behind you. You felt like a child in your own home.

“Well that’s just great.” Your mom says.

“How did it even come up?” Harry asks her.

“As her mother, I have the right to be concerned about who she spends her time with. I like you Harry, I do, but you two seem to be spending a lot more time together than I thought. I need to make sure she’s staying safe.”

“She’s very safe with me, I can assure you of that.”

“I simply mentioned that she didn’t have the best judgement of character.”

“You were blaming her?”

Nannie walks down the hall to your room. The two watch her, Harry goes to follow, but your mom grabs him.

“Let her go, she’ll talk with her.”

Nannie taps lightly on your door before entering. You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, with your baby blanket pressed to your stomach. She sits next to you.

“You still have these things?”

“I keep them in a box for when I need them. Think they still smell like your old house.” You give her a half smile.

“Now honey, you have always been able to talk with your Nannie. What can’t you tell me?” She gives your hand a squeeze.

“A year and a half ago I was r…assaulted, at my old apartment.” She cupped a hand over her mouth. “I had been seeing this guy for a few weeks, and well…we were starting to get intimate. I didn’t want to sleep with him, but he had other plans. I didn’t feel safe enough to say no, so I just let him do what he did to me. It was awful.” Tears roll down your cheeks. “I was not in a good state after. My friend Niall basically saved my life. He helped me tell mom about it. He helped me get into therapy. I stopped going for a while but I started up again when Harry and I got together. I thought I had moved on from everything, but we bumped into him one night. I had a lot more to work on than I thought. But, I really do feel better now. I never should’ve stopped going to therapy. And Harry…” You smile and wipe your face. “Harry is so wonderful. He treats me so nicely. We’ve been taking things really slow, in that department.” You gesture to your bed. “But I know on the outside it looks like we’re moving fast. We made things official three weeks in, and we said I love you about a month after that. We stay over at each other’s places all the time too. Now I’m going on this big trip with him.” Nannie takes you in her arms for a long hug, she wipes her eyes after letting you go.

“I am so sorry that happened, and I am so sorry you didn’t think you could talk to me about it. Sometimes your mother is a blithering idiot. She’s my kid, and I love her, but she had no reason to bring this all up today.” She sighs. “And what do you care what other people think of your relationship? Did you know your Papa and I went on one date and we never separated? I know we were older than you and Harry, but still. He had me moved into his apartment only after a couple months, maybe less. We lasted for thirty amazing years, would’ve been longer if he hadn’t gotten ill.”

“You two had the best relationship.”

“It was a good one for sure. What I’m trying to say is, plenty of people told me not do it. They loved him, but he was eighteen years older than me. But, I loved him and he loved me. I didn’t care what anyone had to say because I knew what was best for myself. I can understand your mother wanting you to be cautious, but I don’t think Niall would have set you up with someone who would hurt you.”

“That’s what I said.”

“So? No problem then. You go on your little vacation with your boyfriend. He’s so sweet. We were having a nice conversation before all the ruckus started.” She sighs again. “My precious girl.” She puts a hand to your cheek. “I don’t see you any differently. If anything, I see a strong young woman sitting next to me.”

“I love you Nannie.”

“I love you too my doll.” You hug again. “We better get out there, I think Harry had some words for your mother.”

“Oh Jesus.” You laugh and get up, putting your blankets back in your box under the bed.

You two walk out to see Harry and your mom watching TV, some cooking show. Harry gets up when he sees you’ve calmed down.

“Did she tell you?” Your mom asks.

“Yes.” She swats an arm at your mom. “This was not the time or place for you to jump down her throat, especially not in front of her boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I feel terrible.”

“It’s fine, we’re done with it, okay?”

“She has a good head on her shoulders. She’s your smartest child you know? You should trust her more.” You Nannie winks at you. “You should’ve trusted her immediately bringing this handsome young man home.”

“You should visit more often Nannie.” You say with a giggle.

“The next trip you to take on a plane better be to come see me, understand?”

“Yes.” You and Harry say in unison.

“Good. Alright, well I’m exhausted now, I think we should go.” You bite the inside of your cheek again. This happens every time you say goodbye for a while. You give her hug and kiss. “I love you so much, precious.”

“I love you too, have a safe flight.”

She gives Harry a hug and kiss. You give your mom a hug too, and she gives Harry a hug. You walk them to the door. You stand there after it’s closed, and you lose it. You can’t stifle the sound of your tears, and Harry comes rushing to you. You press your head into his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry your mother upset you like that.” You sniffle.

“That’s not why I’m crying.” You say trying to catch your breath. “I just, I already miss her. I love her so much, and she’s always so far away. And I always have to share my time with her. She’s everything to me. I have these like weird attachment issues with them, her. Her.” Your voice cracks and you cry harder.

He stays there holding you, letting you get out what you need to. He rubs your back and rests his chin on your head.

“Sorry, this must be so weird for you.” You peel yourself from him. He wipes your eyes for you.

“S’not weird, love.” He says in a calming voice. He walks you to the couch so you both can sit. “I think it’s sweet that you have such a special bond with her. And you clearly had a special bond with your grandfather.”

“They just always found a way to make things better. The nights where my parents were having the really bad fights, or when my dad would just go off on us, I used to prey they would just come let us live with them. Or that they were my parents.” You feel like you want to scream. You look over at the picture of your papa. “And he’s gone now!” You look back to Harry. “Do you know how much it kills me that you’ll never get to meet him? He would have loved you! Because I love you!” The tears are pouring out of you again, and Harry takes you back into his arms.

“Grief is a real beast.” You scoff.

“That’s an understatement.” You look over at the clock and roll your eyes. “Jesus, where did the day go? I have so much laundry to do.”

“Let me take care of it for you.”

“Harry, you are not doing my laundry for me.”

“Why not? You do mine all the time. And I’ve seen you do your own, I can handle it. You just sit tight, I’ll throw a load in. Then, I’m gonna make ya a cup of tea, yeah?”

“Alright.”

“Just try to take slow breathes to calm down a bit. She’s in the area til Tuesday, if you want tomorrow after work we can go to your mum’s house so you can have some more time with her.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Maybe I can preoccupy your mum so the two of you can go get dinner together.”

“You would do that for me?” Harry tilts your chin up.

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, love.” He kisses the top of your head, and goes down the hall to start your laundry.

Your Nannie was right, your mother was a blithering idiot. You hit the jackpot with Harry.

[nothinggold13]

Peter As Spring

An Explanation/Defense. 

I’ve noticed that most people, when comparing the Pevensie children to the seasons, think of Lucy as Spring & Peter as Summer. And, with their reasoning, I can easily see how Lucy could be spring. She definitely embodies the youthfulness & hope & light & growth we associate with the season. But I cannot, for the life of me, see how Peter is summer; especially not when that means he is somehow more summery than Lucy is.

I mean, summer is HEAT. It’s sunlight and everything is deeply alive. It’s openness and freedom. And while Peter is kind, and warm, and wise, the qualities that make summer what it is are much more suited to Lucy. In fact, in the books, it is Lucy who - at the name of Aslan - “got the feeling you have when [...] it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.” Lucy is already associated with summer. 

But what makes Peter spring, specifically? [There is a TL;DR at the bottom if you don’t care for my rambling about my points.]

Often the focus is put on the latter half of spring; the part when everything begins blooming & it becomes warm. But where I’m from, spring is a fickle season. Spring is about the melting snow, long before it is about anything growing... and just because everything has become green does not mean it won’t snow again. So in my eyes, spring is not about warmth & blooming so much as it is about becoming warm, and new growth. It’s about the first shoots of hope pushing through the earth, not about a hope that is steady and strong. It is about the fear of cold, but coming up anyways; courage in spite of everything. It’s about letting go of your inhibitions or fear or complacency and letting yourself begin to bloom. Spring means something is beginning.

This is Peter. 

He’s not hot-headed; he doesn’t lose his temper easily. He’s a warm person, sure, but summer isn’t just warmth; it’s heat. While Lucy is ready to fly off the handle often, especially in PC, Peter acts as a peacemaker. A mediator. Someone in between. 

Peter does not believe in Narnia at first, but before he sees it, he becomes open to the idea, due to his conversation with Professor Kirke. While he may not yet believe, he is willing to let some light in.

Peter is known for showing courage even when he is afraid, and making himself do what is needed, even when he doesn’t want to: “[He] did not feel very brave; [...] but that made no difference to what he had to do.” 

And yet, for all his growth in LWW, he still doubts & hesitates in PC. He doesn’t see Aslan when Lucy says he is there, though he still “stares his eyes sore” & hopes she is right. But it’s a fickle hope. He doesn’t hang his decision upon it. 

I want to discuss a headcanon, now, which is that Peter struggles with mild depression, as well as how this further makes me associate Peter with spring. I will share a few quotes from various fanfictions I have written and explain their context here:

“Then when the cold made Peter feel frozen with fear and regret, he'd spend his time at home next to a roaring fire, which promised him that they would have spring again. After all, Peter always felt more like a king during the spring.” This is from the very first Narnia fanfiction I wrote, “Always Winter.” This moment cemented the symbolism in my head. Peter feels more like a king in spring, because that’s when he was crowned. Spring makes him feel light & young again. Spring allows him to breathe.

“It was one of the first flowers of the spring: the spring that conquered always-winter: the spring that conquered death. And in his mind, the primrose was a reminder of Aslan: of his strength, of his impossibility, and yet of his steadfastness. It was He, after all, who conquered winter. It was He who brought spring again.” In this fic, “Poppies & Primroses,” I once again considered Peter & his relationship with spring.

“In the daylight, with his friends and family close, he was happy. In the evening, surrounded by friendly conversation and high spirits, he was happy. In the spring, under beautiful skies and atop fresh grass, he was happy. Peter loved Narnia. He loved his people, and his country, and Aslan, and being a king. He had to be happy. How could he not be happy?” This fic, titled “Happier,” was written entirely about Peter’s depression. Like I said, I believe it’s a mild depression, and it comes and goes. Canonically, Edmund is “graver and quieter” than Peter, so we know Peter is not melancholy 24/7. But there is still a weight under that happiness, which will be read next.

“He blamed a lot of things, like his age, and his worries, and his memories, and battles, and wounds; and in a way he was right. But he didn't know that years of battles and bloodshed left scars he couldn't see. The insignificance came and went, as he gathered with family and friends, and as he prayed, to the point he sometimes wondered if he even felt it at all. But sometimes he still felt like nothing. Sometimes he felt like stone.” This, also from “Happier,” is where I introduced the depression specifically. Sometimes Peter felt heavy, for reasons he didn’t understand. (We don’t know enough about Peter during the Golden Age to say this cannot be true. So while it is definitely a headcanon, and thus not necessarily true to the books, I do believe it makes good sense for his character.)

“When Peter hit the floor of the spare room, he felt the change instantly: a weight gone, a cloud lifted. He assumed it came with his youth that he loved to move again, and that he never seemed to get tired the way he used to. He never felt nothingness again. The battle scars he'd received, and the facial hair he'd grown, had faded away on his journey out the wardrobe, and for quite a while he didn't realize that the illness in his mind had been erased, too.” THIS is where my headcanon differs from many others: yes, Peter struggled with mental illness, but it changed with the rest of him when he came back out of the wardrobe at the end of the Golden Age. (The reasoning for this is worth another post, probably. In essence, I believe Peter was meant to be in England more than Narnia - Magnificent King though he was. Obviously they all were, but Peter especially. Narnia helped him begin to grow, but he needed England more in the long run.) Although, I should mention that with a couple other headcanons I have running through my head now, I do believe it’s possible the depression returned when Peter was in his 20′s or so.

“For a moment, just a moment, Peter did not believe in ending worlds. He believed only that there would be spring again.” From “A Reflection of Closed Doors,” a fic which is very fundamental to my vision of Peter Pevensie. Once again I attribute the quote “we shall have spring again” to Peter. The fic also compares Peter to closed doors; the idea that he is always in between, and never fully where he wants to be. This fits with the idea that spring is the beginning (and yet also the ending), rather than being fully self-sufficient. It’s always either looking ahead or looking back.

“He didn't know whether she pretended, or whether her hope was genuine, but he wanted - needed - to believe it was the latter. [...] Wherever Peter's faith rested, hope had been built shakily on top of it, shifting with the wind, and sometimes blowing away completely.” This comes from “Lessons Never Learned,” which is largely from Peter’s perspective, but is centered around both he and Lucy. I suppose this isn’t necessarily evidence I’ve written of his depression, but it is about his heaviness & fickle hope. 

“When Peter held Rhindon he was reminded of easier days. The sword was lighter than he remembered, but it was perfect for his hands. His childhood came back to him. For the first time in a long time, to be a king was to be a kid again. The magic began anew; a game and an adventure all at once; a renewed belief in heroes.” Also from “Lessons Never Learned,” this goes along with the quote from “Happier” about him finding his light again after leaving Narnia at the end of LWW. Even when he goes back in PC, he is lighter than he used to be, and that’s important. He is able to grow again, now that, so to speak, the snow has melted.

“But kings rarely begin and end with a single conquest; battle follows battle when the world is new and the winter still looms overhead. Over time Peter lost that faith that he would make it home, in fact, he began to expect the opposite. And worse than that, it wasn’t long until he didn’t fear it.” This is from an unpublished fic, which I kind of like, but also worry is too morbid. That being said, it definitely drives home the idea that Peter is depressed. I do not believe he wants to die, by any means. But, at his lowest, he also feels passive about it. Peter fully expects to die in battle, and this thought doesn’t bother him... at least, not much. 

The point of those examples is that I believe Peter is constantly moving in and out of the symbolic “cold” or “winter.” Peter does not always feel warm and alive and joyful and free. He often feels heavy. He also NEEDS hope more than the others do, in his way. He often feels hopeless, but he seeks it desperately.

TL;DR -- Spring represents fickleness, both retreating cold & growing warmth, new bursts of life and hope, becoming rather than being, and beautiful new beginnings. Peter has hope but doubts it, often feels “cold” but moves towards the light, acts with courage even when he does not feel brave, and is always growing in life, hope, faith, joy, bravery, and wisdom. Peter is always finding new beginnings. Peter is spring.

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

Epilogue

chapter 34

chapter index

December 1st, 1864

Dear Inga,

I’ll be mailing this letter when we arrive in Portsmouth tomorrow.  I can’t believe it’s December already. The weather is so mild this far south, though I never would have guessed we’d see any nice weather on this trip, as rough as the waters were in the North Sea.  To think, there was already snow on the ground when we left Arendelle last week! 

I would really like to stay in England long enough to see some of the country, but we’ll be booking passage on the first steamship out.  I suppose I should look on the bright side, that we’ll be settled by the new year.  A friend of Father’s has arranged for us to stay with his family for Christmas, so I don’t need to worry about doing anything for that.  I hope the holiday preparations are going well in Arendelle, though I am very sad to be missing it. 

 With love,

Elizabeth

P.S. I just want to thank you all again for the wonderful party before we left Arendelle.  I’m sure you’ll object again that it was mostly Halima’s work, but it was so nice to see everyone there.

Elizabeth sighed, looking out the porthole of their cabin at the distant lights on the coast of England as they sailed along. Normally, she didn’t mind sailing, but this trip felt so terribly bittersweet.  There were so many possibilities where they were going, and she would see so many things that she had only read about, but she had really started to feel at home during those few brief months she had been in Arendelle.

“We’ll have an early morning,” Lars reminded her as he finished changing, “please come to bed.”

“I haven’t written to your mother yet,” she smiled.  “I thought of some things I forgot to ask her to bring with her from Corona.”

“She’ll be in Arendelle for another month; you can write from the inn tomorrow.”

“I am feeling rather tired,” Elizabeth admitted, turning down the lamp as she walked to the bed.

***

Lars dressed and quietly left the bedroom. A cold sleet was coming down outside, but the kitchen was warm.  It had been fairly mild when they first arrived in Boston more than a month before, and Elizabeth had been convinced there wouldn't be a real winter, but they had a thick layer of snow for Christmas, and the temperature had been below freezing nearly every morning for several weeks.  

Susan, the girl they had hired to help around the house, had already arrived, and she had even prepared some coffee for Lars to drink before he left for the stable. It wasn’t that long of a ride to the office they had rented, but the sleet made every minute feel like an hour.  There was almost no work so far, but the assistant keeping up the office in Washington had started forwarding all of the mail, which mostly consisted of a handful of applications for Arendelle travel visas.  The previous evening’s mail had been brought in, and there were a few official notices, plus the bundle that had been forwarded, and finally he noticed a letter personally addressed to himself, and opened it.

January 7th, 1865

Dear Lars,

Inga told me that Elizabeth has been writing, and I realized that you’re only getting official correspondence from us right now, so I thought I’d fix that.  I can’t say I’m as good at writing personal letters as my sister, but I hope you don’t mind getting another letter.  I won’t bore you with official updates and announcements, since I know we send them to everyone.  

There was a lot of snow last night, and everyone was outside enjoying it all morning, then we all packed into Hudson’s to warm up, then back out.  Do you get snow there? I know it’s much further south where you are.  If you’re not too busy, write back, because I’m curious what they actually have you doing there.  

The week after Christmas was quiet, with no business and just the family at the castle.  Things are picking up again this week, but Father is going to be taking me, Anton, and Peder up to the mountains for the first ice harvest in another week.  We’ll only be staying a week or two up there, and then the rest of the winter I’ll have to spend most of my time with the tutors if I want to be allowed to do the naval training trip in the spring.

Stay well!

Frederick

Lars placed the letter in his bag. Elizabeth would like to read it, and Frederick hadn’t included anything that he would mind being shared, and he’d write back after dinner and send it out in the morning’s mail.

***

Elizabeth looked up.  “A valentine? Lars, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

“There was a shop full of them, I couldn’t help it,” he laughed, sitting down next to her on the sofa.

“But,” she sighed, “I have nothing for you.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, kissing her forehead.

“What do you mean?” she asked blankly, then looked up at him and got his meaning.  “Oh!” she giggled, lightly punching him.

***

Elizabeth looked up from the letter she was reading out loud, and sighed.  “This is dated two weeks ago, so Inga must already be up North.  She promises she’ll write to me when she gets back to Arendelle next month, but she didn’t say whether she’ll get any letters up there.”

Lars nodded. “It won’t hurt to write, if you want to. Is it any different from writing to your father while he’s at sea?”

“That’s true,” she smiled, looking out the bedroom window.  She set the letter on the nightstand and started fastening the front of her corset as Lars began to help with the back.  Today was the first day of spring.  It was still chilly, and the locals said it was likely to stay so through most of April, but at least the sun was up early. Elizabeth had again started waking up at the same time as he woke up, so he no longer had to leave the house while she was still asleep.

“I got a telegraph from Mother,” Lars said as he gingerly laced the back of her corset, “and she’s on a steamship arriving next week.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” Elizabeth smiled, “she’ll be here for your birthday, too!”

“Yes,” Lars replied quietly, gently tying a bow at the bottom.

“Are you sure you can’t get it a little tighter?” she pouted.

“Absolutely not,” he chided her, holding her shoulders and kissing her cheek. “It’s not going to fall off, and…”

“I know, I know,” she sighed.

***

April 25th, 1865

Dear Inga, 

How are you doing? I feel very restless right now, and I hope you don’t mind that I don’t want to talk about anything serious, because around here they’re only talking about the President’s funeral and all that horrible business.  

On that note, Lars has carried the letters from your family on his trip to the capital.  He’s missing his own birthday, though of course it’s perfectly understandable.  It’s only me and his mother right now, though Susan still comes in during the day to help out.  Lars should be back in a day or two, and we’ll celebrate then, but I do feel bad, since he’s twenty-one now.   This evening I made his mother tell me stories about him as a child, and it sounded delightful. I tried to ask about the day he was born, but she said she was too tired and that I should be getting more sleep. Obviously, I didn’t mean about Lars in particular, just in general. I’ll need to know what it’s like eventually, right? She knows this, and I suppose she doesn’t want to scare me with details right now. I’m sorry I’m being so vague.  But, she’s certainly right that I should get some sleep while I can.  I hope everything is well with everyone there. 

With Love,

Elizabeth

***

“Elizabeth, have we met a Mr. Curtis?” Lars asked, looking at the envelope that had come in the mail.

“No, you haven’t met him,” Elizabeth said casually, looking up from the sofa.  “I haven’t met him, either, exactly, but I wrote to him while you were gone last month.  He’s a ship builder, and you were talking about contracting with ship builders here.”

“Oh,” Lars hesitated, “I did say I would do that, didn’t I?”

“Do you mind that I did? I’m sorry I forgot to tell you, but so much was going on.”

“Not at all,” he said as he opened the envelope, “and it looks like he wants to have us over.  You’ll need to come with me, of course, to keep me from looking like an idiot.”

Elizabeth smiled, looking out the window. “Oh, good, your mother is home from visiting Mrs. Wirth.”

0o0o0

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Lars asked as they came to the large lawn of Mr. Curtis’s house.  “It’s rather hot today, and I really don’t want you-”

“Your mother is here, and there are plenty of seats in the shade.  It’s not like I’m going to be on a train for twenty hours like you’ve been doing lately.”

“True,” he replied, “and I promise I won’t be away from you this summer.  At any rate, please don’t feel the need to act as a hostess today. That’s for Mrs. Curtis to take care of.  We’ve given them a contract for a new ship, and they’re throwing a party in honor of the Queen’s birthday.”

“So that’s already been approved? The contract?” 

“It’s in transit.  The sooner Mr. Curtis gets started, the sooner Arendelle can have the ship.  We’ll worry about the details later.”

***

July 20th, 1865

Dear Inga,

We received the invitation to your birthday party next month. It sounds like a wonderful day you have planned.  Obviously, we can’t be there, but hopefully we’ll be able to send you good news before then.  As always, I look forward to your letters.

I wish I could travel back there for the summer. The weather last summer was so pleasant, but it has been so unbearably hot and humid here.  Our neighbors all seem to be traveling to the shore or the mountains, but Lars is worried about being too far away from a doctor right now, and he assures me it’s worse in the city at his office, so in the meantime I’ve spent most my time in recent weeks in the shade in our yard.

With Love,

Elizabeth

***

The baby was cooing softly in Elizabeth’s arms when Margit Nilsen quietly entered the bedroom.  The afternoon sunlight was peaking through the curtains, keeping the room from being completely dark.

“I have so many letters to write,” Elizabeth fretted from the bed, “as soon as the baby’s asleep, I want to get up.”

“You still need your rest,” her mother-in-law scolded her.  “Lars will write to everyone, don’t worry.  Nobody expects you to be writing letters yourself so soon.”

“It’s been three weeks,” Elizabeth sighed.  

Soon, the baby was asleep, and her mother-in-law gently picked him up and set him in the cradle in the corner.  “There, dear, now you should rest, too.”

“I’m going to get up in just a minute,” Elizabeth protested, closing her eyes for just a moment before falling into a deep sleep.

Margit quietly closed the door and sat down next to Lars at the table.

“You’re going to tell me I should sleep, too, aren’t you?” Lars sighed.

“If you’re tired, you should,” she told him, “but, no, that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

He looked up.  

“You still haven’t told her about Anna, have you?”

***

“We missed your birthday, but we can have a party on your anniversary!” Lars’s mother announced as he returned home from his office.  Elizabeth had dressed up and tried something new with her hair, which Lars thought looked rather nice on her, and the baby was asleep in the cradle. 

“I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten when you left this morning,” Elizabeth smiled.

“I...  I’m going to pretend that I remembered what day it was today,” Lars laughed, coming over to sit next to her.

His mother went into the kitchen to check on how dinner was coming along, leaving the two of them alone.  

“I didn’t get you anything,” Lars confessed, “I really wasn’t kidding that I forgot what day it was. I’m sorry.”

“You have a lot going on now,” Elizabeth reassured him, touching his cheek. “Remember, you can tell me anything.”

***

October 2nd, 1865

Dear Lars,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but Inga has been telling me that you’re all doing well. I know you’re probably tired, Mother and Father always are with a new baby. Everything is fine here, basically.  We’re supposed to be getting another visit from a certain person from Corona in a few days, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you that.  It’s not an official visit.  

Anyhow, I said I wouldn’t bore you with official announcements, but you probably saw that they’ll be sending me to the naval academy in Corona at some point, but nobody can agree when.  Our Admiral says he would be perfectly happy to set up an academy here, but obviously that would take a while, and there are only a few of us right now.

I’ll stop here because I’m sure you’re quite busy.

Stay well!

Frederick

***

Elizabeth sat with the baby in the chair by the front window watching the first snow of the season, thinking about how it was almost December again, and they had left Arendelle a year before. The baby was fast asleep, but she was comfortable and he was warm, and she felt no need to move.

Her mother-in-law brought her a cup of tea, then poured one for Lars, sitting down next to him at the table. They could hear Susan in the kitchen preparing something for dinner.  Lars sat reading the evening paper, and finishing the front page, did his best not to make noise turning to the second page, since the baby would nearly always wake up if the paper rustled.  He started to take a sip from his cup while he was reading, but set it back down abruptly and stared at the page, whispering something to his mother, who looked surprised.

"What is it, Lars?" Elizabeth asked, briefly glancing over, then returning her attention to the snow and the sleeping baby. Lars handed the folded newspaper to his mother, who brought it over to her.

Elizabeth took the paper, and skimmed over a few headlines about nothing astounding, then gasped, stopping herself before the baby stirred.

“Inga said there might be news soon, but nothing about marriage- did you know anything?”

"I thought I might hear something about their officially courting, certainly, or maybe even an engagement,” he muttered. “I suppose I’ll see tomorrow if any messages arrived since I left this afternoon, but they completely ignored any suggestions about getting a telegraph set up.  I dropped the topic this summer since it just sounded like I wanted faster congratulations about the baby.” 

Elizabeth stood up, handing the baby to her mother-in-law.  “I need to write to her!”

***

Lars sat down at his desk, opening the diary to December 15th.  He realized that it had now been one year since they’d arrived here.  He was growing to like this office, but there was increasing pressure to move everything back to the capital now that things were settling down.  He would need to consider that carefully: he could always spend time on the train, traveling back and forth, or they could all move South, and spend less time apart.  But then he remembered the constant threat of malaria, and what if there was another outbreak of Yellow Fever? That wouldn’t do at all.  

He heard someone ring the bell at the front door, and he got up to answer it himself.  With all the uncertainty about whether this office would be permanent, he had never hired an assistant, but there were so few interruptions that it really didn’t matter.

Opening the door, he saw a young man in a heavy winter coat, thick hat, gloves and scarf, even though the weather had gotten mild again for the last week or two.  

“Hello, I’m looking for the Ambassador.” The young man spoke through his scarf, looking directly at Lars with dark brown eyes that almost matched the bridge of his nose.  

“I’m the Ambassador,” Lars informed him.

“Oh! I’m sorry…  am I supposed to call you Your Excellency? I think that's what I read.”

“Just call me Mr. Nilsen,” Lars laughed, remembering how fastidious he had been with titles not that long ago. “Come inside.  You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” he said, coming inside.  He rubbed his chapped hands after he’d stuffed his gloves in his coat pockets, “in fact, I only got off the train two days ago. First thing I bought was this coat.  I’m not used to cold weather.”

“Where are you from?”

“Louisiana,” he explained, finally taking his scarf off, “and now you’re probably going to laugh at me for wanting to visit Arendelle if I can’t handle the cold.” 

“It’s quite pleasant there in the summer,” Lars offered, “but you do have me curious.”

“Well, I’ve always heard stories about it, and I started saving up my money while New Orleans was occupied, doing any odd jobs that I could. And now, I’m ready for an adventure, just for myself.  A few of my cousins went out west this summer, but I wanted something different.”

“I hadn’t realized the stories of Arendelle were that widely known,” Lars admitted, “but I’d be happy to get you set up with a travel visa, and answer any questions you have.”  He motioned for the man to sit down next to his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Nilsen,” he said, taking a seat, still wearing his coat and hat.  “I found a few books at the library yesterday, but I’m sure they don’t tell the whole story. The books certainly told a different story than the ones I heard from the master’s family.”

“Oh?” Lars said, retrieving the papers from his desk.  The man seemed amiable enough, and Lars was interested in hearing some more about his interest in Arendelle.  He hadn’t even mentioned the fjords.  The handful of people he’d seen so far coming in person for visas had talked about nothing else. Besides, Lars didn’t get much conversation when he was at work these days.  “Were they…were they from Arendelle?”  

“Oh, no,” he laughed, “in fact, I didn’t really hear any nice things about Arendelle from them, but that makes me all the more curious to see the place for myself.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” Lars said, half listening as he started to organize the paperwork for a travel visa.  He glanced at the first space on the form. “I’m sorry, I realize I never asked you your name.”

“Right, you’ll need that,” he smiled, “John Westergard.”

Lars felt his stomach drop.  It could be chance.  It could be anyone. He needed to keep calm.

“Westergard?” Lars tried not to be obvious as he looked the other man up and down.  There was no resemblance, not even some quirk of his nose or the shape of his earlobe, to any member of the royal family of the Southern Isles. But the name, still, the name must have an explanation. “That’s an unusual name…”

“I’ve been thinking about changing it. It’s not really my name, you know how it is.”