#these are some pins I’m doing for me and my youngest cousin

[carly404error]

Get microwaved idiots.

[abyssmalice]

Profile - re. mobile / the 11th ;

Name: “Tartaglia”

Real Name: Tonia Agafonova

Age: 14 (15-16)

Species: Human / Iriminsul-Human Hybrid

Vision: None / Cryo / Dendro / ??????? 

Delusion: Electro

Weapon: Polearm

Constellation: Dormitator (The Somnolent)

Affiliation: The Fatui / The Irminsul

Titles: The 11th Fatui Harbinger / The Noble Daughter / Listener of the Leylines

FC: Anissa de Lagrange (temp.), Aisha de Elmir (temp.) 

Appearance

A young girl with plain looks. Dull blue eyes complement dull brown hair that tends to be tied into twin braids, while her face is adorned with a prominent splash of dark freckles.

Her typical wardrobe features a white dress with a vested corset matching in color with her dark boots. This tends to be accompanied with a capelet dyed and branded in the blue-gold colors of the Fatui. Accessory-wise, she is hardly to never seen without a pair of dark gloves, a red mask on her head, and a (fake) Cryo Vision pinned to her clothes.

When utilizing her Delusion for a long period of time, her hair will become undone and turn white.

Personality

If you were to take a volatile fourteen year old girl on a years-long road trip without asking her whether she even wants to be on this trip - that would be Tartaglia.

A young girl by every means of the word, who just wants what most teenagers would want in this period of their life - love and freedom and a contentedness that is normally hard to put in words, but Tartaglia knows what it looks like and it is not the stifling chains of the Tsaritsa’s command nor the grand responsibilities of being a Harbinger.

Really. She just wants to go home, care for her loved ones, and be happy living an utterly peaceful, simple life. None of this god-killing, scheme-pulling nonsense!

—Well, not that taking down Celestia is a bad thing - just not at the expense of herself and her time!

Regardless, no one really agrees with her thoughts, even if some do nod sympathetically to her rants. And only just nod. If that’s how it is, then fine - she’ll just make such a nuisance of things that they will have to do more than just smile and frown and nod and say pitiful and indifferent things to her.

(And if the whining and the yelling is just a defensive coping mechanism for how she really feels, deep down? Well, that’s just going to have remain an eternal secret between her and Ajax.)

Profile

“Huh? You wanna know more about Tartaglia? What would I know that you don’t? No, seriously - tell me, what do you know about her, because I’m pretty sure I’d give the same answer if anyone asked.

”…haaah? Battle-hungry? Fearsome? A young man? Did you hit your head on the stairs this morning? For starters, Tartaglia’s a young girl, sheesh!

“Fine, seeing as you seem to have legit lost your marbles right now - Tartaglia is the 11th Fatui Harbinger, the most recent and most youngest of them to date. Honestly, no one knows where she came from, she just popped out of nowhere and was appointed by Her Imperial Majesty with the title and everything it entails. Whoever knows the truth won’t fess a thing, and anyway, who would question the Tsaritsa’s decisions?

“Okay, okay, fine, a lot of us question it, but again, who would question their Archon about this? No one, right? Yeah, I thought so. That being said, doesn’t stop the whispers and the rumors that go around the place every so often. Some people say she must be the Tsaritsa’s secret daughter or something, for a mere child to be given the position of a Harbinger - but there’s plenty of people who think that’s the stupidest theory on Teyvat, considering Tartaglia looks nothing like Her Majesty. Hells, I’d say she looks more like my aunt’s cousin’s brother’s sister-in-law’s niece from Morepesok or somewhere just as backwater.

“—Kinda infuriates me, to be frank. I mean, if it weren’t for her title, she would probably just be some random kid. But because she has rank and authority second only to Her Imperial Majesty, we have to listen to her and bow to her every whim. To a kid! Don’t be fooled by her face - she’s a brat and a troublemaker and her title is probably the only reason she hasn’t been executed for mutiny yet.

”…You think I’m being too harsh on her? Because she’s just a kid? Oh sheeeeesh.

“Look, you’re new, so it’s only natural you would think that. But I know you’re not that new either - you must have heard those rumors that Tartaglia regularly tries to commit regicide, right? You haven’t? Well now you do!

“And by the way, they’re a bit exaggerated, that’s true, but fundamentally, no. The 11th Fatui Harbinger is a moody child who likes to cause chaos when no one expects it, who makes everyone question why Her Majesty would keep someone so unfaithful by her side, and honestly, if some people didn’t say she was good with her Vision, I would be questioning that too. She has a hellish habit for picking fights, but most of her fights just sound like childish tantrums from what I’ve heard.

“I think we’d all think differently about her if she were, how did you describe her at first? Some bloodthirsty war hound? Then again, no one can be a Harbinger without having some form of merit or power to their name… and if she can use a Vision blessed with the power of our own Archon, then, I guess… Ah, whatever.

“Point is, ultimately, just keep your head down and do your work. And try your damn best to stay out of her way. You really don’t want that girl’s attention on you, seriously.”

[swagcoolcat]

Hey, friends! I made a post saying I was considering making a bmc fan-kid post, because I have three different sets with my close friend, Moth! (They’re not on tumblr, unfortunately, or I’d tag them). For the sake of simplicity, I made them all on the same picrew to see them in the same style. (Picrew will be linked at the end of the post).

(This spans across five and a half years, so half of these kids are boyf riends kids and half are pins and patches kids)

Fan Kids below the cut!

EDIT TO ADD FOR PEOPLE THAT GO PAST THE CUT: Let me know if I’ve made any mistakes in any of the Alt Text! I’m trying to improve at it so I can start adding Alt Text to my art! Thank you!

**PICREWS WILL DEPICT THE KIDS AS PRETEENS/TEENS, MEANING YOUNGER KIDS WILL BE OLDER IN THE PICREWS THAN THEY ARE IN CANON**

The Mell-Heere Kids (TW for brief mentions of physical abuse in Ruby’s section):

Marcus Daniel Mell-Heere: Marcus doesn’t have much information about him regarding his upbringing before he came to be adopted by Michael and Jeremy. What feels correct to me though, is that Marcus’s parents passed away around the time he turned 5, close to a year before he meets Michael and Jeremy, which also explains why he starts kindergarten at 6 instead of 5- because due to the trauma and grief of losing his parents, he’s not ready to start school when it starts a month later. He’s incredibly outgoing and social, and he absolutely loves sugar.

Ruby Maye Mell-Heere: Ruby came from an abusive household before she was adopted by Michael and Jeremy. When we first meet Ruby, she’s shy and reserved. She hardly wants to speak with anyone, and takes some time to trust Michael or Jeremy, or anyone really. She comes out of her shell more the more time she spends with them, and grows an especially close bond with Marcus. She’s fiercely protective of him, and he’s the same way with her. She gains an especially close bond with Jeremy, as he had a similar upbringing to her after his mom left, and finally talking about it and having someone that understands the pain she went through really helps her in healing.

Robin Miracle Mell-Heere: Robin is the youngest member of the Mell-Heere family and their only biological child, born about 8 years after the events of the musical on Halloween. He’s a very happy baby who loves to explore. Robin has some weirdness going on due to the SQUIP. We didn’t end up exploring this too much, but what we did have was that his freckles would glow when his emotions got intense, and this would give Jeremy and people who connected with Jeremy’s SQUIP migraines. Robin also is growing a lot faster than most babies, which we explained as being due to the SQUIP as well (but really it’s because we were 14 and didn’t know how babies worked).

Jeremy’s Cousin (TW for mentions of Death)

Nate/Rain (last name unknown- but likely Heere): For simplicity, I’ll just refer to him as Nate. We changed his name to Rain partway through because we got attached to him more so than we thought and he was named after a real person. At the beginning of his story, Nate has been recently adopted by his older cousin, Jeremy, after his parents passed away in a plane crash. Due to the sudden trauma of losing both of his parents, a once happy Nate was suddenly thrown into a depression. He starts learning how to heal and starts making some friends after Jeremy meets and hires Michael, who specializes in helping kids. We ended his story going on a date with a boy in his class, Aidan/Hudson (same name situation as Nate).

Dillinger-Mell Kids:

Tao Dillinger-Mell: Tao is the oldest of Michael and Jake’s adopted kids at 15 years old. We made him and his sisters less than a week ago, so we don’t have Lore for them yet, we just have their designs, names, and ages. I do however know that Tao plays soccer.

Viviana Dillinger-Mell: Viviana is the second oldest of Michael and Jake’s adopted kids at 10 years old. We don’t really have anything established about her yet.

Sybil Dillinger-Mell: Sybil is the second youngest of Michael and Jake’s adopted kids, at 5 years old. The only one younger is Gaïana, her twin sister. Her left arm ends at the elbow, and that’s where her prosthetic attaches. Aside from that we don’t have any established lore yet.

Gaïana Dillinger-Mell: Gaïana is the youngest of Michael and Jake’s adopted kids at 5 years old. She’s the younger twin sister of Sybil, and she really likes cats. Aside from that, we don’t have any established lore for her yet.

Body type A Picrew

Body type B Picrew

If you have any questions about any of these guys please do ask, I’d love to hear them!

[harrysweasleys]

yellow sundress // f.w

summary: fred spots you at bill and fleur’s wedding and can’t keep you off his mind.

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

a/n: let’s all pretend there’s no war and the wedding doesn’t end horribly, shall we? (for my own sanity, of course) :) xx enjoy!

—

Fred was happy for his brother, really. Bill was always the most mature of the Weasley clan — well, according to Molly, anyways. Always boasting about how Bill had his life in order and how he’d go on to do great things. So, although Fred grew up feeling slightly envious of his big brother, today he was happy. Happy for him and happy that there was finally something for the family to celebrate.

He had found himself rather excited the morning of the wedding. Him and George had spent the night at the burrow — Molly’s orders — so they could prepare and set up the tent bright and early. Arrangements for the wedding had been made very last minute indeed, so the panic and rush was still happening hours before the happy couple were to say ‘I do.’

The early morning grass was still wet with dew drops, shimmering like little diamonds under the hazy sunshine. The field was quiet except for the occasional caw of a bird or the screech of an insect. 

Though sunny, it wasn’t overly warm. Fred found it just comfortable to wear a long sleeved shirt under his waistcoat, preventing goosebumps from rising on his skin every time the morning breeze rolled around. There wasn’t much heavy lifting to be done, thanks to magic, so Fred found himself sitting back with his brothers, only ever occasionally giving a lazy flick of his wand to pitch in.

“So, no date?” Ron walked up to Fred, crossing his arms across his chest and giving his brother a small smirk as they finished pinning the tent into the ground.

Fred scoffed, “Coming from you?”

Ron rolled his eyes, “You’re older than me, you need to get a move on. Maybe you’re next,” he joked, motioning his hands to the wedding preparations.

Fred fought the urge to smack him across the back of the head, “You hilarious little git.”

Ron’s laughter echoed in Fred’s ears, a taunting reminder that he indeed did not have someone in his life. Someone that he could have on his arm right now, someone that he could end up dancing the night away with. Although Fred teased Ron about his bad luck with women, he knew his little brother fancied Hermione, and she felt the same way back. It was only a matter of time before the two ran off into the sunset together, really.

Fred scoffed at the thought of his youngest brother getting married before him.

The tent was up and ready in no time, a few of the distant Weasley cousins and some old school friends of Bill’s already underneath it, setting up tables and chairs so that there was room for people to sit. 

Molly called his name from inside the house, her head sticking out of the kitchen window and her arms waving wildly; a clear sign to Fred that he should rush over.

“What is it?” he asked as he entered through the doorway, ducking his head to avoid hitting one of the wooden beams hanging low by the kitchen entrance. A beam that he had whacked his heads so many times on when he was growing up that he was surprised his Boggart didn’t turn into it when he was still in school.

“Carry these out!” Molly huffed, shoving multiple large trays of goods into his arms, her hair sticking out all over the place and her apron stained with icing and different kinds of sauces.

Fred agreed, walking ever so slowly out of the house and placing the heavy, unbalanced trays on the closest table he could find, not wishing to spill anything and unleash his mother’s wrath so early in the day. He let out a long sigh as he looked around at the ongoing preparations, the sun now higher in the sky and making it easier to do things under the bright light.

Too occupied with watching over everything, he hadn’t noticed a body approach him and stand by his side.

“Fred Weasley, as I live and breathe,” a soft voice caught Fred out of his daze, blinking his eyes to refocus as he looked down to face the person who had nearly startled him. 

You were standing there, hair tied back loosely and a bright smile on your face. You were wearing a light yellow sundress, a cardigan sitting on your shoulders as you held onto a small clutch purse. Though Fred didn’t know his perfumes, he could smell a sweet mixture of honey and rose coming from your direction. A smell that Fred, up until this point, never considered to be beautiful. But as he looked down at you, your expectant eyes awaiting an answer, Fred found that everything about you was beautiful. 

“Do we know each other?” Fred asked lamely, internally rolling his eyes at himself. He had a feeling that if he had seen you before, he wouldn’t have forgotten. 

Your smile changed from soft to amused, “I see I didn’t make a lasting impression,” Fred felt his own lips turn downwards into a frown as you let out a small giggle, “We went to Hogwarts together.”

He scanned you up and down trying to find anything that could spark recognition, but he failed, “Were we in the same year?”

You shook your head, “I was below you. The year below you, I mean. Not — I — you know what I meant. I’m Y/N.”

Fred felt a smile take over his face as you looked down to the ground, “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

“Technically, we’ve met before,” you pointed out, a sly grin on your lips, “I was also there when the goblet of fire ejected you as an old man. Classic, really.”

Rubbing the back of his neck and laughing sheepishly, Fred cursed his younger self for acting like such a fool, “Not one of my brightest moments, I must admit.”

You let out a bubbly laugh and Fred swore he lost his breath.

“I found it amusing. Never dull, you two.”

A sense of pride buzzed in Fred’s chest, glad that he could make some amusing memories for you. Glad that you even remembered him. How Fred never noticed you while at school, he’ll never be able to answer.

“Well,” you adjusted your cardigan around yourself and gave him a little wave, “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to go help Fleur.”

Before he could bid you bye, you scurried off into the house. He heard you and Molly greet each other before the sound of your footsteps rushing up the stairs echoed throughout the house and through the open window.

A grin was still on Fred’s face long after you were gone. What it was about you, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t remember ever being so intrigued by a person before after such a short encounter. You had completely captivated him in the two minute conversation that was shared. Fred, who had made it this long without being in a serious relationship or committing to anyone, suddenly had an overwhelming urge to get to know you better.

—

Silent conversations bled throughout the seated crowd, everyone chatting quietly with the people around them as they awaited the ceremony to begin. Half of the people were familiar, but the other half were Fleur’s invites. People that none of the Weasley family had ever met — people who, as they scanned their surroundings, clearly still weren’t overly fond about having a wedding outside an old house in the middle of a field.

Old school friends gathered left and right, greeting each other and reminiscing about fond memories. Memories that, in this moment, felt so distant and gone. As if school was ages ago instead of only a year and a bit. A lot had changed over the course of twelve months

Without really knowing he was doing it, Fred’s bored eyes scanned the crowd, looking out for the familiar yellow dress. He had already greeted everyone that figured there was no point in getting up to talk if the ceremony was minutes away from starting.

“Looking for someone?” George poked him on the shoulder, a crooked smirk on his face. He couldn’t give a proper one — the bandage wrapped tightly around his head prevented him from doing so.

“Do you remember an Y/N when we were at Hogwarts?” Fred asked, eyes turning to his twin.

George nodded, “Yeah. Wasn’t she friends with Ginny and Luna?”

“Blimey, I need a better memory,” Fred frowned. He had never raked through his brain more than in the last hour, trying to find any sort of scrap, but had very little success.

“Why?” George wiggled his eyebrows, “Someone looking for her?”

Fred rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, not answering his brother. Not that he had the chance, really, as the scent of honey and rose filled his senses once again, your bright yellow dress catching his attention from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t even noticed the empty chair next to him, but as you took your seat there, he was thankful that it had been empty.

“Oh, hey,” you smiled, removing your cardigan and placing it on the back of your chair, “Were you saving this seat? Sorry, there’s nowhere else.”

“No,” Fred muttered quickly, “You can sit here.”

George let out a low chuckle and Fred imagined himself turning around and whacking him across the head. But, fortunately for George, the very image stayed in his mind.

The ceremony began shortly after, but Fred couldn’t focus much. Only when you nudged him in the side and told him to stand for Fleur’s entrance did he notice how zoned out he really was.

His cheeks and ears felt warm but he was lucky you didn’t notice, a wide grin on your face and your eyes slightly watery as you watched Fleur walk down the aisle, an equally happy Bill watching her every movement with such love in his eyes, even Fred couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming emotions.

They said their ‘I do’s’ and the ceremony came to a close an hour later, everyone clapping loudly.

You disappeared into the crowd and Fred made his way to the reception tent, finding his table and sitting with the rest of his siblings. The atmosphere was calm, soothing, and the music gave a pleasant echo of fun. Having not been to many weddings before — or any, really — Fred didn’t know what to expect. He thought it would be loud, chaotic, and people would be toppling over each other on the dance floor.

That, however, was not the case.

As the afternoon turned to early evening, a few couples had come and gone from the dance floor, a few meals had been eaten, and the music playlist continued to produce a good enough array of songs for Fred not to become overly bored. Molly had strongly suggested playing Celestina Warbeck and was still bitter that Fleur rejected her upfront, but she seemed to be enjoying the evening as she moved to the music on the dance floor alongside her husband.

“You gonna ask Hermione to dance?” George nudged Ron in the side, Fred chuckling at his younger brother’s clear discomfort.

Ron’s cheeks flared pink, “Blood hell, no. She’s with Krum.”

The three of them looked over to the centre of the tent where, in fact, Hermione was laughing and dancing with the Bulgarian seeker. The one that Fred had listened to Ron whine about for hours on end in his sixth year.

“Come on, Ronniekins. You could out dance him,” Fred smirked, teasing him.

Giving him the best glare he could muster, Ron grumbled, “Hope she steps on his big feet.”

Fred let out a small laugh and turned back to face the dance floor, his eyes immediately finding you. He tried telling himself it was due to your dress, but that was only because he didn’t want to admit how beautiful he found you. How he currently wanted nothing more than to rush over there and ask you to dance.

Odd, Fred thought, I’ve never wanted to dance with anyone.

“What about you Freddie?” Ron turned the attention away from him, “I see you eyeing her. Just go ask her to dance or I’ll go do it for you and I reckon I’d make it way more bloody awkward.”

Trying his best to act nonchalant, Fred grumbled, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” George’s eyes sparkled with mischief and as much as Fred usually liked that, he didn’t like it so much right now, “Then you wont mind if I go talk to her—”

“Sit down, you git,” he snapped quietly, eyes darting away from where you were standing and chatting with Luna before he glared daggers at his two sniggering brothers, “Both of you need to shut it.”

“Just go,” George said, taking a sip of firewhisky, “Someone’ll snatch your spot.”

Fred took a deep breath and stood up, wishing to get away from his idiotic family. His heart was racing against his rib cage, uneasiness and nerves spreading throughout his entire body as he slowly walked towards the floor. He stopped to look at anything and everything along the way, stalling the interaction as much as possible. Asking Angelina to the ball had been casual — he never really fancied her the way one should fancy a date. It was more of a friendly thing. But as he looked over at you, your contagious laughter reaching his ears and your cheeks slightly pink, he realized that this was so very different. So very nauseating.

“Fred,” you smiled up at him, catching Fred off guard. He hadn’t even noticed that he walked up to you, but as he heard George muttering behind him, he realized his twin probably gave him a good shove in your general direction.

“Hi,” he smiled down at you, “Hello, Luna.” He greeted your friend, who gave him a dreamy wave before stalking off through the crowd with a smile on her face.

“She’s had a lot of gigglewater,” you informed him, “Told me about seven times that she thought I looked like Pygmy puff.”

Fred found himself laughing, “I don’t think you look like one. I don’t remember Pygmy puffs being so stunning — and I’d know, Ginny had one of those little rats.”

Your eyes widened and your smiled faltered just a tad, “You think I’m stunning?”

“Yeah,” Fred suppressed his nerves the best that he could, “I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to dance.”

He saw you take a deep breath, placing your glass down on the nearest table before holding out your hand, “I’d love to.”

Your hand was warm as it laced in with his, a sudden wave of confidence flowing over him at the contact.

He led you out to the dance floor, your body close to his as you linked your arms behind his neck, his hands holding your waist. He felt his breath stutter as your fingers grazed the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile.

“Do you know how to dance?” you asked, looking down at your feet as you actively avoided stepping on his feet, the two of you slowly beginning to sway to the music.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Winging it.”

You chuckled, tossing a loose strand of hair out of your face before gazing back up at him, “Apologies in advance if I step on your feet—”

Right as you said that, Fred felt the tip of your shoe dig into the top of his foot. Your eyes shot wide open and you stepped back, tensing up.

“I am so sorry!”

Fred removed a hand from your waist and pressed it over his heart, “You wounded me, woman.”

Guilt left your face and you broke into another fit of giggles, stepping close to him once again, your hands finding their spot at the back of his neck as you muttered another apology. Fred couldn’t remember ever dancing like this with anyone before. Though you two were currently only friends — if even that — he felt like your movements were intimate, close, and he wanted to continue dancing with you until the sun was gone and rising back up again.

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, resting your head against his chest. He was tall enough that you could do so without leaning over. Fred hoped to Godric that you couldn’t hear how violently his heart was beating.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckled, the vibrations causing you to pull away and smile up at him.

He stared down into your eyes, his own face falling into a serious trance. As cliche as it was, he felt as if the two of you were alone. That the wedding had died down and the dance floor was meant for you and you alone. That no one could ruin this little moment. He could smell your intoxicating perfume and it was rendering his mind slightly blank.

Fred Weasley didn’t fall for anyone in one day. Especially someone that he had never met before. But here he was, the only thing on his mind being that he wanted to dance the night and morning away with you. That he wanted to take you to dinner. To bring you to the shop.

“Something on your mind?” you asked, a tone of inquisition in your voice as you peered up at him.

“You,” he replied, stopping in his step completely when he heard himself, “I — that came off awfully weird.”

“It came off awfully sweet,” you stopped dancing with him, smiling brightly, “For someone who doesn’t remember me, you sure seem to be warming up rather quickly. I’m not complaining, though.”

Fred had never been happier for his boldness than in this exact moment.

“Coffee?” you asked, beginning to move to the music once more, Fred following in your step. He found himself stumbling over his feet just a bit, but he played it off well enough that he was certain you hadn’t even noticed.

“I like coffee but it’s a little late now,” he smirked to himself, knowing what you meant but deciding to tease you just a tad.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, “Oi, you know what I meant.”

He chuckled, cheeks hurting from how much smiling he had done this evening, “Of course I do. But here, let me ask. Y/N, would you accompany me to dinner and coffee tomorrow night?”

You pretended to ponder, the tips of your ears slightly redder than they were a few seconds ago, “I would need to check my schedule but I believe I’m free.”

“Good,” Fred grinned, heart doing a summersault in his chest as you beamed up at him, your body pressed against his as the two of you continued to get lost in each other.

Luckily for Fred, you were too busy focused on him to notice Ron and George shooting thumbs up your way, their knowing grins taunting Fred from across the dance floor. But, as Fred looked down at you, he thought he didn’t really care.

After all, Fred Weasley has a date.

—

taglist

@grierpilots

@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

@msmimimerton

@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

@thoseofgreatambition

@theweasleysredhair

@haphazardhufflepuff

@almostweepingbanana

@ickle-ronniekins

@iprobablyshipit91

@wand3ringr0s3

@susceptible-but-siriusexual

@starlightweasley

@mytreec

@thisismysketchbook​

(message me to be added!)

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Y/n would call Vampirerry and do this with her little cousins sksnnajaja

She’s visiting home and her little cousins have been bugging her all day about him.

“Can we meet your boyfriend?”

“Can you call him?”

“What’s he like?”

“Does he have an accent?”

“Is he tall?”

“Does he like tea?”

“Has he met the Queen?”

And finally Y/N just caves. “Fine, fine! I’ll call him so you can meet. This is gonna overflow his ego, for Christ’s sake.”

They all line up on the bed while she sits on the beanbag chair in her childhood bedroom, staring down at the ringing FaceTime screen while all her relatives shift around the mattress excitedly, whispering and giggling.

When Harry finally picks up the phone, he’s sitting on his couch shirtless, eating a chicken wrap while watching a paranormal documentary, half his curls pinned up with one of the hair clips she often leaves at his place by accident. His cheeks are puffed out since he’d just taken a bite of his food, and he has a few crumbs littering his lips, which dust off when they twitch into a small, affectionate smile. He talks through a full mouth, crinkling his nose up in a comical greeting. “Hi, baby.”

The youngest of her cousins can’t cap the sudden squeal that escapes her, which throws the rest of the group into a chorus of similar reactions full of explosive sounds of giddiness.

Harry stops mid-chew, eyebrows inching upwards in mild surprise as the shrieks of glee crackle through his speaker. He swallows thickly, blinking at her curiously as he clears his throat. “D’you have company or...?”

Y/N glances over her device at the small crowd of children surrounding her, who range from ages five to fifteen, all of them gawking at her expectantly. “Yeah, uh...my cousins. They wanted to meet you.”

The vampire’s eyebrows kink higher, an amused expression washing across his handsome features, paired with an undercurrent of flattery. “Oh, really? Is that so?”

“Yes!” Another young child pipes up, sending the rest into a fresh fit of agreements.

“Well, there’s your answer.” Y/N deadpans, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling at how riled up they are. “They’ve been ribbing me about it all day. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late. I’m Smalltown’s newest upcoming celebrity.”

All the kids laugh fully now, and Y/N can see it on his face how much her boyfriend’s enjoying all the attention. She waves her hand dismissively at her family, silently urging them to calm down so she can speak. “Stop encouraging him!”

“Please don’t.” Harry’s voice filters through the phone, along with a dramatic fake sniffle, his tone taking on a sappy tremble. “Y/N bullies me constantly, I need a bit of validation anywhere I can get it.”

His theatrics only garner more of an uproar from everyone.

“Let’s just get it over with so I can have some peace again.” She grumbles pettily, scowling at him through the camera.

“Oh, stop pouting; you’ll get wrinkles. And she doesn’t need any more of those, does she, guys?”

More laughter, and Y/N thinks she might just hang up the phone out of spite. “Fuck off.”

“Oi! No cursing in front of the little ones! And everyone saw that, right? Nothing but a bully.”

“I’m gonna cut off the call.” She warns darkly, which results in all the kids screaming out in protest.

“Alight, alright. Just let me go fetch a shirt first, my boobs are out.”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Simple Man

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3351

Summary: It was never what he thought he would have. But now Dean doesn’t want to let go. 

Notes: I was going to wait and make this a Thanksgiving special, but I thought today would be more fitting. I can’t believe Supernatural ends tonight! This show has been a part of my life for a while now and it will forever stay in my heart.  I had a really really good time writing this one. It might be one of my favorites I’ve written for Dean, if not my top pick. I hope you guys enjoy it and look forward to seeing more. Carry on. 

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

(P.S. thank you to my beta reader @suckmysupernatural​. Love you!)

-

Oh, take your time, don’t live to fast

Troubles will come and they will pass 

He had slept through an alarm he didn’t remember setting. It wasn’t until he heard the creaking of the door that he stirred, reaching under his pillow for his knife. But it wasn’t there. Dean panicked as footsteps crept towards him. They were nothing more than a small pitter-patter on the wood floor, but he still prepared himself for the attack. The small creature leapt on top of him and he rolled over so he was pinning it beneath him. It giggled. It giggled?

“Daddy, Mom said she needs you in the kitchen.” 

Dean leaned over to the night stand and turned on the lamp. A little green eyed girl squirmed out from underneath him and skipped out of the room. 

“The hell…” Dean muttered. He opened the dresser and sure enough, his clothes sat in the drawers. He put on a T-shirt and slowly walked out of the room. The smell of bacon and coffee coaxed him to the kitchen. He couldn’t believe what he saw. 

You were standing over the stove, trying to save the bacon from burning. Dean was just frozen in the doorway. Finally spotting him, you made your way over to him, which was difficult with the little boy clinging to your leg. 

“Thank God you’re up. I need you to finish making breakfast.” You lifted the boy into your arms. “Eric’s got a fever and Ellie is going to wake up any second needing to be fed.” You gently laid a hand on Eric’s forehead. “I’ll call the doctor as soon as I get him to lay down. But you know how impossible that is.” 

“But I’m not tired.” Eric whined. 

“I know, sweetie, but you don’t want to get sicker, do you?” He pouted his lip and shook his head. “Alright, so I need you to go back to bed.” You looked back at Dean. “Can you just finish the bacon? I’ll be back to make their toast.” 

Before Dean could speak, you rushed up the stairs. As if on queue, a baby started to cry from somewhere upstairs. Dean just stood in shock. What the hell was going on?

As if by second nature, he walked around the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to let the bacon drain off the grease. It felt almost natural. He somehow knew where everything was, even though he had never been here. Or had he? His brain was fuzzy with thoughts he couldn't remember. He saw images flash in his mind. Sam graduating from Stanford. His parents celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. You… in a wedding dress. 

“Johanna Charlotte Winchester you better be ready for school or your dad’s going to come and get you!” You yelled, coming back into the kitchen, this time a wailing baby in your arms. It wasn’t until now that Dean noticed you were wearing a sheriff’s uniform. You snatched up a piece of bacon and popped it in your mouth. “Thank you.”

You bounced the baby in your arms, trying to calm her down, but she wasn’t having it. The green eyed little girl from early came bounding into the room with her backpack over one shoulder. Ellie continued to bawl. 

“Can you hold her? She always stops crying when you hold her.” You handed the squirming child to him and he tried not to panic. You noticed your husband’s awkwardness. “Rough morning?” You snickered. “Here, I’ll make you some coffee.” 

As the child in his arms slowly stopped her crying, more memories flooded Dean’s head. You telling him you were pregnant for the first time. Going to the emergency room for the birth of his son. Watching Johanna hold her new baby sister. They all felt like dreams, but then how was this all real? 

“I’m feeling a little... off this morning.” He admitted, watching you carefully as if he were waiting for horns to sprout from your forehead. Your face fell. 

“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re sick too.” You put your hand on his forehead. “You’re picking everyone up from the airport today.” 

“Everyone?” Dean’s brows furrowed curiously. 

“I would go get them, but I’m at the station until five.” You sighed, moving your hand down to caress his cheek. “Besides, you’ve been dying to see your brother since the Fourth of July.” 

“Uncle Sam!” Jo exclaimed excitedly. 

“Sammy’s coming?” Dean asked. Finally, something familiar. Your face contorted with confusion. 

“Of course he’s coming. Jessica and the kids are too. They always help prepare for tomorrow and since your parents will still be out on their cruise, we’ll need all the help we can get.” 

“Tomorrow...” He spotted the calendar on the wall, but you answered first. 

“Thanksgiving.” You stated. Your confusion changed to concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to stay home?” Jo raised her hand. 

“Can I stay home too?” 

“Sweetheart, it’s just one more half-day of school before break and then you’ll get to play with your cousins for the rest of the week.” Seeing you start to get stressed, Dean put a hand on your shoulder. 

“You go to work. I’m fine.” He assured you. “I’ll hold down the fort and I’ll pick up Sam at- what time again?”

“3:00.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I know you worked extra last week so you could have the garage closed for Thanksgiving, but I think the fumes might have gone to your head.” You grabbed the keys off the counter. “Oh, and I’ll be taking Baby to work since you’ll need the van to fit everyone.” His look of displeasure made you laugh. “I know, I know, but you’ll have to suck it up for today unless you think the four-year-old can babysit.” 

You kiss Ellie on the forehead before giving Dean a quick, but passionate kiss on the lips. You held out your hand for your daughter to take. 

“Alright, partner, let’s go.” 

The two of you leave and Dean looks down at the baby in his arms. Was this really happening? 

-

Boy don’t you worry, you’ll find yourself

Follow your heart and nothing else

If he was trapped by a djinn, he would have remembered fighting it. This was something else. The more time he spent in the house, the more this world felt real and his hunting life felt like dreams. Maybe… maybe this was real. 

He remembered everything now. He had met you in a bar on New Years Eve. You hit it off talking about cars and classic rock. He proposed about two years later outside that same bar during the first snow of the season. You always said the first snow was the best one. You got married and a couple months later found out you were pregnant with Jo. Johanna Charlotte Winchester was born on April 3, 2007. She was seven. Three years later, Eric Samuel was born on November 29th. He was four. Lastly, Ellen Sandra was born six months ago tomorrow on May 27, 2014. 

Sammy had a family of his own. He married Jessica right out of law school and the two had two boys; Josh, 8, and Michael, 6. Their families stayed close, even though Sam was in California and Dean in Kansas. They were happy. 

If this wasn’t real, how could he remember all that? 

3:00 rolled around and Eric’s fever had gone down. He called you to make sure it would be okay to take him along to the airport. You told him that as long as he was feeling okay, it should be fine. The doctor said it sounded like the heat in his room was too high. Dean buckled Eric into his carseat and Ellie in her carrier. While Johanna almost looked like a mini-girl version of him, Eric looked like you. His eyes were yours, along with his hair color and his nose. Ellie looked like a fair mix of both. 

Jessica was the first one to greet him since Sam was busy carrying the boys’ bags. He hugged her tight and couldn’t stop beaming. 

“It’s so good to see you guys.” He smiled and she gave him a sunny grin in return. 

“I know Sam’s been eager to see you and the family for a long time. Of course, I’m only here for the food.” She teased and he pulled her into another hug. 

“I can’t believe this.” Dean sighed happily. Sam and Jessica. Him and you. One big happy family. 

“Do I get a hug, or are just going to hog my wife?” Sam snarked, setting down the bags as Dean nearly tackled him. Sam laughed, struggling to breathe in his brother’s crushing hug. “I missed you too, Dean.” 

“Uncle Sam!” Eric cheered, clinging to Sam’s leg. 

“Hey buddy.” Sam smiled, lifting his nephew into his arms. Jessica peaked into the baby carrier Dean had set on the bench. 

“Look at how big she’s gotten.” She awed. Ellie was asleep, so she spoke quietly. Jess frowned, finally noticing the two brown haired boys fighting over one of their comics. “Josh, stop pushing your brother.” She scolded. 

“He took my comic!” The older of the two retorted. Jessica just gave him a stern look and he surrendered. 

“Michael, give it back when you’re done reading.” Sam ruffled his youngest son’s hair. Dean knelt down. 

“So are you two tough guys too cool to give your uncle a hug, or what?” He pulled his nephews into a warm embrace. “Are you both taller? You’re taller than the last time I saw you.” Dean pat Josh on the back. “You’re gonna be taller than your dad before you know it.” 

“You know, you’d see them more if you flew out to California.” Jessica noted. Dean’s eyes widened. She laughed. “I know, I know, you have a thing about flying.” 

“I want to go to California!” Eric exclaimed.

“One of these days, we can go on a roadtrip in Baby to Uncle Sam and Aunt Jessica’s, how does that sound?” Dean promised. Eric nodded, excitedly wriggling in Sam’s arms. 

Everyone loaded up into the van, Sam sliding into the passenger seat. Dean had to laugh. This was just so crazy. Here they were, driving in a van packed full of children. Their children. He thought of all of the times Sam sat beside him in the impala, the two weary from a hunt. It felt like a different lifetime. Like a different world. It felt less real. 

-

You’ll find a woman and you’ll find love

And don’t forget son, there is someone up above

Four children ran around the backyard, jumping in leaf piles and chasing each other with sticks. Jo seemed to rule the yard, keeping her older cousin at bay with her stubborn persistence. Dean smiled proudly. 

“She’s quite the pistol.” Jessica noted with a laugh, jutting her head towards Johanna. She was sitting beside you, bouncing her baby niece in her arms. 

“I wonder where she gets that from.” You gave your husband a smirk. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered. The tone in his voice made you glance up at him. He was watching you with intensity in his eyes. So much love and yet… there was pain there. 

“I love you too.” You laced your fingers with his, your concern evident in your voice. “Dean, are you okay? You’ve been acting a little weird all day.” You spoke quietly so you wouldn’t worry your brother-in-law. Your husband gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m fine, really. I’m just…”  Dean felt an overwhelming wave of emotion and choked back tears. “Really happy.” He lifted your chin up, bringing your lips to his. Everything was perfect, right down to the way your lips fit perfectly against his. He knew, without a doubt, that this was real. 

Soon it was time to put the kids to bed. Sam’s boys slept on the pull-out couch in the basement. Eric was exhausted from a day of excitement, as well as his baby sister. Dean was charged with the task of putting a rambunctious Johanna to bed. 

“I want to stay up and drink beer like a big kid.” She pouted, making the adults in the room chuckle. Dean crouched down and picked her up. 

“Alright, here’s the deal. I promise that when you’re a big kid like me and your mom, then you can stay up and have a drink with us. But until then, you’re gonna be my little deputy right?” He tapped the golden plastic badge that she never took off. Jo grinned from ear to ear and nodded. Humming a Bob Segar tune, he took her upstairs to her room and tucked her into bed. 

When he came back down stairs, his brother and the two women were smirking at him. 

“What?” You and Jessica exchanged a look and burst out laughing. “Come on, what?”

“That girl has you wrapped around her finger, Dean.” Jessica snickered. You took a sip of your beer. 

“Oh, he’s like that with Ellie, too. He dotes on them like you wouldn’t believe. One little pout from Johanna and he melts.” You couldn’t help but beam at your husband. You loved the way he was with the kids. 

“I got her in bed, didn’t I?” Dean huffed, taking his seat beside you and resting a hand on your knee. Sam shook his head. 

“It’s all in the looks, brother. You may think you’ve one this round, but I saw the look in Jo’s eyes.” Sam gave his brother a sure nod. “She knows where she stands.” 

“At least I’ve got Eric,” You sighed teasingly. “He’s a mama's boy, through and through.” 

You curled up beside Dean, comfortable in his warmth. He kissed the top of your head.

The hours passed with plenty of laughter and love. Soon, it was getting close to 11:00 and you wanted to get plenty of rest for the busy day tomorrow. Everyone would be helping prepare the massive Thanksgiving meal that the Winchesters made every year. Sam and Jessica said goodnight and headed to the guest room while you and Dean made your way upstairs. 

You reached your rooms and Dean’s hands found your waist, his lips trailing up your shoulder to your neck. You leaned back into his embrace, bringing your hand up to tangle your fingers in his golden-brown hair. His hands started to wander and you sighed mournfully. 

“Baby, we both have to be up in the morning.” You groaned, breaking away from him. When you turned around, he was pouting, his green eyes big and sad. So that’s where Johanna got it. He was just so impossible to resist, but if you didn’t go to bed now, you’d be exhausted before dinner even started. You draped your arms around his neck. “I’ll tell you what; how about we get a good night’s sleep tonight…” you pulled him close and whispered into his ear, “and I’ll give you something to be really thankful for tomorrow.” 

Dean’s eyes widened and his smirk spread into a smile. 

“Mrs. Winchester, we have a deal.” He loved the way that sounded coming from his lips. Mrs. Winchester. 

You gave him a long and passionate goodnight kiss before changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed. 

It must have been around 12:30 when the baby started crying. The baby monitor was on your nightstand, so you were awakened by the sound first. Dean moved to get up, but you stopped him. 

“I’ll get her.” You sleepily shuffled out of the bedroom. Reaching the hall, you muttered something that your half-asleep husband only half comprehended. Something about the electricity acting up again. 

The crying continued and you didn’t return. Dean yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes and got out of bed. He slowly made his way down the hallway to the nursery. The door was ajar and the lamp had been turned on. You must have gone downstairs to get her a bottle. 

Dean picked up his crying daughter, rocking her soothingly in his arms. She wailed and wailed until she heard his voice. 

“Alright, sweetheart. It’s alright. Daddy’s got you.” He hushed. After a moment of rocking and soft whispers, Ellie started to settle down. As soon as her cries reduced to the occasional sniff, Dean set her back in her cradle. “That’s it. You’re going to be just fine. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.” 

Smiling down at his beautiful baby girl, Dean felt something on the back of his neck. When he touched it, his hand came away red. He froze, and as if his body went into auto pilot, he turned around. At first he couldn’t scream. He just stared. 

Your mouth gaped at him, your eyes filled with terror and pain as the blood spread out from your stomach. Ellie started to cry again. 

“No!” Dean screamed. That’s when the fire started. 

And that’s when he woke up.

-

And be a simple kind of man

Oh, be something you love and understand

Dean sat straight up, sweat soaking through his t-shirt, his scream still on his lips. The cool air of the bunker made him shiver. He couldn’t breathe. He heaved and coughed as if the smoke really filled his lungs. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump out of the bed and flatten himself against the wall, holding out his fists to fight. 

“Dean?” You rose slowly, walking towards him cautiously. “It’s okay. It was just a dream. You’re okay.” 

He just stared at you, taking in every feature. You watched his eyes fill with tears and his chin tremble as he tried to speak. Nothing came out, just a strangled sounding cry. Dean fell to his knees and you rushed to hold him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a nightmare. 

Dean wrapped his arms around your middle and leaned his head against your stomach as you soothingly ran your fingers through his hair. He didn’t make any sound as he cried, but the tears fell endlessly down his face. He was shaking in your arms. 

“Dean, honey, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” You whispered. This wasn’t the first time that he’d woken suddenly from a dream, but it had never been like this. 

You told him that you were pregnant today. He seemed happy. Shocked, but happy. But now? Whatever was going through his head was breaking him. You sunk down in front of him so you could hold him fully, letting him cry into your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” He finally choked out. “I’m sorry that this is all I can give you. I’m sorry that we don’t have a big house full of kids. That Sam has lost any chance at happiness. That we can never have a normal life.” You pushed back. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sorry that this baby is going to grow up haunted and broken… just like me.” His voice cracked. You put a hand on his cheek. 

“Dean…” You pressed your forehead against his, feeling your own tears start to fall. “This baby is going to be loved and wanted and cherished, just like you.” You kissed him gently, reminding him of your adoration of this hero of a man. 

Dean held you closer, letting your words sink into his heart. He wanted to believe it. He wanted more than anything to believe it. Even in his beautiful dream, you ended up burned and bloody. Even in his dream, he was broken. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He would try like hell to give you a life as close to perfect as he could manage. Maybe that meant hunting together until you went down guns blazing. Maybe that meant settling down, someday, somewhere. He would try. 

Baby be a simple kind of man

Oh, won’t you do this for me, son, if you can

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks​ Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

[earthstellar]

My TFP Humanformers Headcanons: With Pictures This Time

Originally posted here, but that’s all text only.

In my defence, I studied fashion at university level for two years, so this post was inevitable.

Optimus Prime - James Dean Style, aka “Hot Dad” 

Optimus would probably love doing the research to determine human styles and what he likes best. 

I can picture him doing a 1950s inspired look, more Greaser than stuffy suits, but in a more James Dean way and not John Travolta in Grease kind of way if he needed to go undercover as Jack’s dad or something.

He’d be a bit older than James Dean was in the above photo, definitely in his 30s at the youngest. Would still have silver mixed in with his black hair, to replicate the silver details on his helm. He doesn’t smoke, but might chew on a pen cap every now and then without thinking about it. 

Ultra Magnus - Vittorio de Sica - Classic Italian Suit Chic

When doing research into human styles, Optimus showed him a Hermes magazine and some European business style guides from GQ and decided he liked the formal suit look. I imagine he’d have a very Italian look to him, as he might be wearing an Italian or Continental style suit. 

For some reason, Magnus as a 40 or 50 year old stern and stylish Italian guy just works really well. He’d be extremely well dressed, well groomed, would still demand authority, and I imagine him looking like Vittorio de Sica, pictured above. 

He would perhaps use his holoform to accompany Fowler in discussions with some military superiors.

Initially, he wanted to pick a military style uniform for his holoform, and Fowler had to explain to him in detail why that wasn’t an acceptable thing to do. So he went for chic lawyer instead.

Ratchet - Old War Vet + What He Thinks is Nevada Style: George Gabby Hayes

Ratchet would literally just be my dad or any of his old war buddies, possibly with a mobility aid like a cane or walking stick because that seems to be very popular amongst my dad and his friends. (To quote my father: “I can walk with it and I can beat people with it, so it works fine for me, don’t touch me dammit I can get up by myself.”) 

I get the feeling he’d approach designing his holoform from a logical angle, wanting to fit in with the locals to avoid detection. Unfortunately, this meant he found a bunch of old Western movies online when looking up style inspiration, and decided that this was probably the best look to go for since all these movies were filmed in Nevada, so surely this would be familiar to people, right? (Wrong.) 

He’d be tough and wrinkly, but give those precious old man smiles with big twinkling eyes that shine so brightly against his old weathered skin, and that alone would get him get out of trouble with the authorities-- Or helps him get the others out of trouble. He would play the “I’m just an old person, what do you want from me” card and he would succeed. Then he’d turn around and get mad that everyone treats him like he’s old, lmao.

Arcee - Tori Amos: Late 1990s/2000s Casual 

Arcee would go for 20s-30s in terms of age, motorcyclist, we already see this on screen every now and then. I think they would estimate for approximate human age relative to one another’s Cybertronian age, so this works as Arcee seems to be younger than the rest. 

I picture her outside of her motorcycle gear in a very late 90s/early 2000s style look, casual but stylish. It would throw people off because she’s so much mature than what people might assume, which gives her an edge in conversation.

Her cover story could be that she’s Jack’s cousin, or maybe a friend of his mom’s, depending on what the mission/situation is. Could also possibly say that she’s one of Jack’s co-workers if need be. She’d probably redesign her holoform to have red hair just to troll Jack (the classmate he has a crush on is a redhead). 

Bulkhead - Mark Sagato + 1990s Alt Rock Gear 

I can easily picture Bulkhead’s holoform looking similar to Mark Sagato, pictured above, who is a former Sumo wrestler and a film actor. 

He’d be rocking a green cargo jacket layered with a plaid flannel shirt over a plain white tee or a band t-shirt and blue jeans with black steel toe boots, possibly with a workman’s tool belt. His cover story could be that he’s Miko’s uncle visiting from Japan! 

I imagine a very casual 90s alternative rock meets almost-lumberjack look for him, to match Miko a bit. He’d probably have some ribbon wristbands from live shows/gigs up his arm, because Miko would absolutely encourage accessorising.

Wheeljack - Billy Idol + Specifically Grunge Punk 

Wheeljack would be every single old school dude in the grunge punk scene that I’ve ever met. He’d look like an older Billy Idol, but only if you imagine what that would look like, not like, the actually currently old Billy Idol. 

Older guy, skinny but tough, jean jacket covered in patches and buttons and pins, black jeans held together with random string sewn in like embroidery thread, a pair of Converse so old that they might be from the 70s original line. Grey bandana also covered in pins around his head and another around his neck. He would also have ribbon wristbands from shows, courtesy of Miko’s style advice.

Bumblebee - Fred Olande: 1995 Was a Great Year for Skateboarding

Bumblebee would be a young guy, maybe even late teens/early 20s, massively baggy yellow hoodie with a black jean vest over the top like a lot of young guys wore in the 90s back when I wasn’t a dinosaur myself. Jeans that are pale from being worn/washed too many times, threadbare around the knees, wearing some kind of skateboarding shoe. I imagine him wearing a beanie as well. Every pocket is full of graffiti pens for the skatepark and his phone screen is cracked.

Raf would help him with his holoform details, and I can picture him basing his look off of some of Raf’s family photos, so he’d definitely be Mexican/Latinx. His cover story could be that he’s Raf’s cousin visiting from a border town or Mexico, and his excuse for not speaking would simply be that he doesn’t know that much English, so that would work out perfectly.

Smokescreen - 1970s/1980s Sports Gear Forever 

Smokescreen would inevitably try to go for a 1970s/80s movie inspired sporty look, and would probably look to be about in his late teens/early 20s.

Think classic white Nikes, very sporty 80s style with a white and blue puffy jacket (or sweat shirt) and red fabric wristbands. If anyone has a mullet or a feathered hair style, it’s gonna be Smokescreen. His tank top is Adidas, and his sweatpants are also Adidas.

Unfortunately, he then discovers that shorts exist, and cycles between the classic Butterick patterns above, depending on the mission/who he is trying to impress that day. 

(I won’t lie, I did the shorts over sweatpants thing well into the 90s. Yes, I was made fun of.) 

[whimperwoods]

Part 8 of Gozukk and Anna.

In this installment, many names? Family lore abounds. Anna is only mostly the center of attention, which is probably for the best. I am honestly only partially sure this chapter even counts as whump, but I just needed a nice breakfast and some nice new friends and for Anna to get some new Gozukk context before she has to do more scary things like go talk to a doctor.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with all the new names/characters.

tw: slavery (past), tw: past rape/noncon (barely referenced), tw: past abuse,

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Gozukk left a note for the half-elf, pinned to the inside of the tent flap, and let her sleep. He hoped she would wake for breakfast while others were still there for her to meet, but he also knew enough about her wounds, inside and out, to know she needed the sleep if she could get it.

He was talking to Azzor when her head poked tentatively out of the tent flap, glanced uneasily toward him and the others and the fire, and vanished back inside. His heart fell a little, though he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t expected the fear.

Azzor had noticed him watching something, and probably his face falling while he wasn’t thinking about keeping a front up. When he turned his gaze back to his best friend’s face, the general was already rolling his eyes. “Go on, it’s fine. You’ve gotten the key things from my report. I assume you’re staying around camp today?”

Gozukk nodded, looking back over at the tent, and trying to decide how offended he should be that Azzor wasn’t bothering to pretend he couldn’t read him like a book..

“This is that baby hawk all over again,” Azzor said, “Don’t be surprised when you find yourself bleeding even though you’re stronger than her.”

Gozukk’s face slid into a sideways grin. “Which baby hawk?”

“Exactly. It was like you liked having beak-sized gashes all up your arms.”

Something in Azzor’s eyes said he wasn’t upset, just wary, and Goz could live with that. “Anyway,” he answered, “This time, her wings are clipped. You have to acknowledge that’s different.”

“Fear is fear. You can’t expect something that scared and with that many reasons not to trust anther creature to decide you’re the safe thing.”

Gozukk scowled. “She’s not a something. She’s a someone.”

Az sighed. “I know, Gozukk. But elves can be dangerous, too. You know that.”

He did. He did. His face warmed over his cheekbones, and he found he couldn’t meet his best friend’s eyes. “I know, Az. It’s just -”

“You’ve never seen a broken wing you didn’t want to splint.”

Azzor sounded resigned more than he did disappointed, something hiding in his tone that told Gozukk they were still alright. A wave of calm washed through him. It was clear, then. It was clear what he was doing, even if all the rest - wasn’t.

As Gozukk stepped away, toward his tent, Azzor reached out and gripped his forearm. “You know I’m only paranoid because someone has to be, right, Goz?”

Gozukk gripped Azzor’s forearm in return. “And you know it’s why I made you General.”

Azzor squeezed his arm before letting go. “Go on, Mama Bird.”

“Papa Bird.”

“You’re never winning that one.”

Gozukk made a vague, dismissive noise and tried to hold onto the hope of the morning. There was breakfast. People were well-rested. The humans from yesterday were still a problem, but nothing new was looming over today. It was going to be a good day. It was.

Anna was still just inside the tent flap when he opened it, and she immediately flinched away from him, hard, one hand moving instinctively upward as if she might need to protect herself from being hit.

He wanted to reach for her shoulder, but he shouldn’t, and his body stiffened as he resisted the impulse. She took a half-step backward, bobbing her head into a series of quick half-bows. “Oh, umm... I’m sorry Sir - Mr. Gozukk - I’m - I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I knew you were here, just didn’t realize you were still at the door.” He reached forward and brushed her hair behind her ear, never quite touching her head, and was pleased to find the little bobs stopping, even if she didn’t seem much calmer.

He pushed the tent flap open farther and stepped inside, moving around her with a few extra inches space to spare.

As soon as the flap closed, blocking out the morning sun, it was harder to hold onto the hope that today would be better. But then, it didn’t have to be, did it? It just needed to not be worse.

He dropped down into a comfortable squat, rather than making her look up, and her eyebrows raised in surprised as he peered at her face from below.

Her hands fluttered anxiously in front of her. “Oh - I -”

He held his hands out, hoping she’d give him hers and stay standing, rather than collapsing again. It was worth a try, anyway, and if she did fall down to her knees, at least he was already close enough to make eye contact.

“Oh!” she said again, softer this time. She placed her hands tentatively into his, her cheeks brightening into a blush.

Her hands were so small in his, immediately swallowed up even by his loosest, gentlest grasp. The bandages around her palms did a little bit to camouflage the narrow palms, but couldn’t disguise the delicacy of the slender, shaking fingers resting against his palm.

He held her hands as gently as he could manage. “Anna,” he began seriously, “I need you to listen to me, and I need you to tell me the truth. We have time, and there is no rush. Are you ready to meet people, or would you like me to bring breakfast in here?”

Her breathing shallowed, and her eyes started darting around, frightened, but she didn’t have much of anywhere else to look, not with him squatting down to look at her from under her hair, and not when she couldn’t twist away without pulling her hands out of his (admittedly loose) grip.

She blushed harder. “I can do it, Mas-” she flinched, her eyes blinking closed for a second and then meeting his fully as she corrected herself, big and pleading. “Gozukk. I can do it . . . Gozukk.” Her voice trailed away to near silence, and he decided she’d been stressed out enough. He gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze and then stood back up.

“Excellent. We’ll get you some breakfast over by where Djaana’s sitting, so you’ll have a familiar face nearby. I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”

“Th-Thank you . . . Gozukk.”

She still seemed to be struggling with his name, but allowed him to usher her out of the tent, holding the flap open for her.

The adults in the camp made a point of not staring, in spite of the curiosity in their passing glances, but the children gawped openly, and Anna shrank closer to his side, pulling in on herself.

It felt good for her to cringe closer rather than farther away, as much as he didn’t like watching her stay so afraid. Fear is fear, Azzor had said, and backed into a corner, he was right, but Anna was a person and not a bird, and he had to hope for better.

Djaana smiled at both of them as they approached, her youngest, still just a toddler, ducking behind her calves and peering out at Gozukk and the stranger.

“How’s your back feeling this morning?” Djaana asked, her tone casual, as though this were a normal morning chat. “Mukzod is back in camp if you’d like a healer to take a look. You can go with Dumul, when he goes to train.”

Gozukk’s oldest nephew raised a hand, waving in Anna’s direction. “That’s me.”

Anna dropped into a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”

Dumul bowed back without rising from his feet, a deep polite nod. Gozukk’s heart warmed. Dumul and his cousin had both been a handful lately, insisting on taking new responsibilities and getting away from home, both of them only recently grown into their limbs, so that Gozukk still imagined them as lanky adolescents and was surprised when they came into view and weren’t.

Beside Dumul, Enzah rose to her feet, moving carefully and slowly toward him and Anna to avoid startling the girl, apparently having been briefed on the girl’s terror even though she’d been gone with the scouts yesterday. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, well-carved wooden comb.

“Hey, Anna,” she said gently, “My aunt told me about you. I went with some scouts yesterday to find the campsites the caravan used before, and I thought this might be yours.”

Anna backed up slightly, almost bumping against Gozukk’s side. “Oh! Um, n-no ma’am. I’m - that was - part of the cargo.”

Her face had paled a little, and Gozukk could feel her shaking just inches from him.

“Thank you, Enzah, that was kind,” he said, “Why don’t you keep it as spoils?”

She grinned, something in the expression reminding him painfully of his late brother as she did, but he needed to stay in the here and now.

“I’m not a very good medic yet,” Dumul said, “But if you’d like me to look at your hand before you eat, I can try a small healing spell. Elder Mazogga says I should focus more on slow medicine before I learn the fast way, but a little magic can’t hurt.”

Anna’s hand closed into a fist as she pulled her hand closer to her chest, almost as if on instinct.

Dumul held his hands up, palms toward her, “Or if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. I know Uncle’s had enough battle wounds to dress them well.”

“Better than you,” Djaana commented affectionately, “You should have listened to Mazogga.”

Dumul nodded deeply, conceding the point, but they all knew they couldn’t really regret him choosing to do healer’s training first, before medicine. Enzah stretched, letting her shirt ride up to reveal the messy scar across her stomach where she’d nearly been disemboweled a few months ago, and Gozukk felt a familiar small spike of fear as he thought about the fact that she’d been allowed to go scouting again with the rest of her training cohort, even to a place as safe as an abandoned camp.

Mel had been peering out from behind her mother’s legs with more and more confidence as they all stood still, and finally tugged on Djaana’s hand, “I go Uncle Gokukk?” she asked in a whisper that wasn’t really a whisper.

“Why don’t you go see if Uncle Gozukk wants to see you?” Djaana answered back.

The girl’s eyes brightened and she took off running on her chubby little legs, closing the distance between them so fast Gozukk barely had time to squat down and open his arms to catch her. She shrieked with giggles as he scooped her up and tossed her into the air, only to catch her again and hold her steady this time, plenty aware that baby cuddles didn’t last forever.

Mel buried her face against his shoulder and peered sideways at Anna, who seemed to have calmed down a little, too.

“Anna, this is my niece Mel. Mel, can you say hi to Anna?”

The toddler looked up and waved at the half-elf, but then buried her face back in his shoulder, suddenly shy. He laughed. “Good job, Mel. Do you want to let Anna say hi, too?”

Mel turned her head to the side to look at Anna and the half-elf spoke quickly, still clearly on edge. “Oh! Hi, Mel. I’m - I’m Anna.”

He introduced her to everyone around the circle, explaining that Jak was off with a friend, but she’d seen him yesterday, and his brother-in-law was away on a long hunt, back in a few days.

Finally, he settled her down in a spot by the fire next to Enzah. Usually, he’d have said Dumul was the less intimidating of the two, but he knew Anna was wary of men. It was reassuring when Enz immediately started talking to her in a calmer, softer voice than usual, offering her food and fussing over her a little bit, more like Djaana than like her late father. He smiled softly and relaxed. She’d always been a good girl, and he knew he could trust her to try her best, even if assuaging people’s fears wasn’t exactly her strongest skill.

He moved around the camp, talking briefly with various groups of people, but with half an eye on Anna the whole time, never straying too far to get back to her quickly if he needed to.

By the time Mel was wiggling to be let down and he had to return to his sister, it was clear both that his family was happy to accept Anna, and that it was a little overwhelming for her. She’d eaten, though he couldn’t imagine Enzah hadn’t been a little harsh about forcing the issue if Anna had been as reluctant as yesterday. Her arms were back around her middle, and something in her eyes looked half-dazed, her body hunched small next to his niece’s casual lanky sprawl.

Sending Mel toddling back to her mother, he crouched down beside Anna, whose brown-green eyes met his immediately this time, half desperate. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, a quick gesture of reassurance. “One more stop, and then I think you probably need more rest. Djaana’s not wrong. A visit to the healer or the midwife wouldn’t go amiss, now that you’re settled in a little bit.”

Anna’s eyes teared up and she started shaking again, eliciting a glare from Enzah he could feel burning into the side of his face, as if there were anything he could do about this.

He patted his niece casually on the shoulder as he rose to his feet, then offered a hand to Anna to help her up.

She took it immediately, quick enough this time to surprise him, though not unwelcomely. He guided her to Mukzod’s tent without quite touching her elbow, aware even without making contact that she was trembling again, but this time as she walked close to him, she at least seemed to be staying close, rather than trying to disappear into his side entirely, which seemed like a good sign.

“Before we go in to the tent,” he said gently, “I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. Mukzod heals with help from the gods, and I can promise you he won’t call down any kind of magic to hurt you. But if you’re afraid, you don’t have to be healed at all. I just also want to make sure there’s no kind of tracking magic or curse on you. And if that’s all he does, that’s alright.”

Anna nodded, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes, looking down at the ground instead, and he didn’t know whether to believe her. Either way, it was best to remove the bandage quickly. He nodded back to her and called into the tent for Mukzod’s permission to enter.

[wolf-and-bard]

*Giggles at all of your cute chaos cousins posts* *Imagines Ciri’s royal family meeting her Witcher family* I was just wondering if you might wanna write a little something to satisfy my craving for some everyone lives fluff? ❤️ I’m honestly just imagining sweet sea hound Eist meeting and making friends with the wolf boys XD

My friend ♥️ Do excuse the long wait, my brain was not in the mood for fluff for a bit there. This did turn out rather silly, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway! Maybe don't take it too seriously 😂

Everyone lives family-floof (with some vaguely implied Lambskel), rated T, 3.1k. Enjoy!

„Welcome, welcome,“ the crashing mine-cart voice of Crach en Craite boomed up the gangway which Geralt treaded lightly, Ciri clinging to his backside. The girl had slept through half of their ship’s journey and was still softly snoring. Geralt could feel drool against his neck, but he didn’t mind so much with her. It made him bite down on a smile as he set foot on the wooden planks of the dock.

The air around them was filled with the general clamour of Ard Skellig’s harbour, people that embarked and disembarked from various vessels, traders that carried wares to and fro, merchants that advertised their wares, children that spent their lazy afternoons watching the various ships dock.

Nothing of the wars with Nilfgaard had reached the Skellige Isles, not a single galley of the Black Ones, nor yet a spark of the fires that consumed the Northern Kingdoms. Nothing of the wars had reached their host either. Crach stood as a proud and stout warrior with open arms and a stately set of his shoulders, smiling broadly through his thick beard.

“Well met, Jarl,” Geralt said.

„Geralt of Rivia,“ he hollered and laughed and came up to Geralt to greet him before he noticed Ciri on his back. „By Freya, if it isn’t my dear cousin.“ Ciri perked up at that, and laughed when she saw the low bow Crach was giving her. She tugged on Geralt’s hair and he let her down with a grunt.

“Cousin Crach,” she squealed and barrelled into him under his thunderous laughter.

Geralt crossed his arms and smiled as the two of them hugged out their reunion, Crach bent low to wrap his huge arms around Ciri’s body, still small in spite of all the training she had done under the witchers’ careful instruction. Speaking of which…

“Man, this place stinks,” Lambert complained as he joined Geralt on the dock. His face was slightly pale, had taken on a greenish taint, and he wore a constant scowl. “Please don’t tell me all they have to eat is fish, I’d kill for a roasted chicken leg right now.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you,” Eskel said and he too took up position on Geralt’s side. Vesemir was the last to leave the ship, having chatted with the captain about sightings of rare sea creatures all journey long, and he looked as vivacious and happy as Lambert looked annoyed and sickly. A flush was spread over his cheeks and a bounce suffused his step making him seem younger than the lot of them which was a ridiculous notion. Geralt huffed, and jostled Lambert lightly.

“Fuck off!” the youngest wolf yapped and jostled him right back.

“I brought my family,” Ciri announced when she wound out of Crach’s embrace and her eyes glittered, a sea-weed green under the afternoon sun which hung in a cloudless sky. Her chest swelled in pride as she waved Crach over to introduce them.

“You know Geralt of course,” she said and Crach and Geralt exchanged another nod. Crach winked and Geralt bit down on his laughter. “The greatest witcher to ever walk the Continent!”

“I have a thing or two to say to that,” Vesemir huffed.

“You’re right, the second-greatest witcher to ever walk the Continent. Vesemir taught him,” Ciri explained and Crach saluted Vesemir loosely, then turned to the other two.

“These are my uncles Eskel and Lambert.”

“Not your uncle, kiddo,” Lambert grumbled.

“As you can see, Uncle Lambert is a massive killjoy. But he can be fun if he wants to be, he taught me how to make bombs.”

Geralt waited for the realization to hit Crach, the sudden understanding that having this girl live with four witchers of all people might have been the worst thing to happen to her, and that he should have them all executed for their crimes against the crown. But Crach only chuckled which, if anything, made Lambert even more suspicious. Geralt could see it in his narrowed eyes.

“Uncle Eskel is the best cook ever and he’s so strong. He once carried me and Uncle Lambert to bed when we fell asleep playing Gwent on the battlements. He makes a super strong herbal tea and he knows all about the weirdest kinds of monsters, those even witchers get to fight rarely. But don’t cross him, I hear his Axiis can knock you right out.”

“They can,” Eskel said, a faint blush clinging to his cheeks. “But so can my fists. Thank you for having us, Jarl.”

“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, but I’m sure these men are great people and fine company. Welcome to all of you and my sincerest thanks for taking my cousin in. Her family is ours also and shall be welcomed on Ard Skellig henceforth. Please, dear witchers, follow me, there is much ale to toast with and a few other people that should like to make your acquaintance. Our servants have prepared a royal feast in your honour.”

“Royal feast, who gives a shit. Don’t think we will be wooed by manners and wine,” Lambert muttered and Crach laughed. “We’re only here because the brat was nagging us about it.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Lambert,” Ciri said and batted her lashes at him. “There’ll be beer and cuss words and all the types of fish you can imagine, it’ll be right up your alley.”

“Call me uncle one more time,” Lambert said through his teeth and Eskel drew an arm around his shoulder to pull him close, then whispered something into his ear which Vesemir and Geralt heard, but the others couldn’t. Lambert flushed red, Eskel smirked, and Vesemir scowled at them. Geralt shook his head, biting down on an amused smile.

“We would love to join you in the keep,” he said. Ciri beamed at him, and so did Crach. Lambert was suspiciously quiet all the way up.

---

The moment Crach threw open the grand double doors at the end of the bridge that led into the entrance hall of Ard Skellig’s keep, a blur of reds and browns came shooting from a dark corner and barrelled straight into Ciri, knocking her over. All four witchers fell into various fighting stances immediately, their focus trailed on the heap of limbs on the floor, but as soon as Ciri’s excited giggles echoed through the great space, they relaxed.

“Cerys,” Ciri laughed and they tumbled about on the floor, Ciri and a girl that was no more than a couple years younger than she. She had flaming red hair and wore a version of Crach’s armour, adjusted to fit her still growing body. The girl grappled with Ciri, then tried to pin her down, but Ciri’s training kicked in – Geralt noticed her perfect execution of a manoeuvre that flipped their positions – and she gained the upper hand. Cerys stared up at her, wide-eyed, then burst into laughter that too matched the thunder of her father. It was amazing, coming from such a small person.

“You,” Cerys hissed between hiccups of laughter. “You abandoned me. You promised to be here for my birthday, but you abandoned me for what? This group of stinky old men?” She glared at the witchers, or tried to, but her eyes spelled mirth.

“We’re not adopting another child,” Lambert said and Eskel jostled him. Vesemir and Crach were both smiling into their beards.

“My darling Cerys,” Ciri said and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose. Cerys howled in dismay and wriggled in Ciri’s grip, all in good humour. “How you’ve grown.” With that, Ciri let her go and pulled her cousin up with her. The girls regared each other for a long moment, then fell into a bear hug.

Geralt watched them, arms crossed, and felt his heart warm at the sight. He hadn’t realized prior to this trip, stupidly hadn’t realized, how much family Ciri still had, how many connections to the world. When he’d taken her in, the only thing on his mind had been getting her to safety. He’d thought she had no one left and now here she was, a bright young girl, on her way to become the first ever female witcher, with two families to call her own. There were doubts there too, of course. Should he have brought her here in the first place?

“You did good with her, wolf,” Vesemir said as he came up to Geralt’s side and placed a light hand on his bicep.

“We all did, even Lambert,” Geralt said. “But maybe it’s time to give her back to the world?”

“She would have your cock sizzling over a campfire for that if you even implied it.” Geralt’s eyes widened and he stared at Vesemir. Vesemir had his gaze fixed on the still hugging girls, but his moustache twitched. “She’s one of us now, Geralt.”

Geralt accepted that in silence. Right then, his ears pricked up as he heard two more people approach from a stairway to the right. One of them Geralt recognized instantly in his proud bearing and his weathered face. Eist Tuirseach, former Jarl of Skellige, King of the fallen country of Cintra, always bore himself with pride, nobility and mischief woven about his person like an invisible cloak. Geralt liked the old sea bear, even though he’d only met the man briefly at his and Calanthe’s betrothal. The day Geralt had claimed Ciri as his child surprise. He saw Geralt and nodded slightly, then his eyes fell to Ciri – who had finally let go of Cerys – and they widened, lips parting in a gasp as though, up until now, he hadn’t quite believed she would come.

“Cirilla,” he said, oh so quietly, but she heard. She’d been wintering with wolves, she heard. And in an instant, she was across the space between them, had hurled herself into his arms. Ciri shrank then, back into the girl Geralt had first picked up in the middle of the war and Eist’s eyes filled with tears as he crouched down to envelop her in his arms which were clad in furs. He buried his face in her hair and both sobbed quietly.

“Who is he?” Eskel asked under his breath.

“Her grandfather,” Geralt replied to put it simple. Titles would mean nothing to Eskel, nor to Lambert. His brothers actually cared as much about politics as Geralt pretended to care about them which was nothing at all.

“I had not known King Eist had survived the war,” Vesemir said to Crach. The two warriors were standing off to the side, heads tucked together while Eskel stood with Geralt and Lambert… Lambert sat cross-legged on the floor, caught in a staring match with little Cerys. In all of that, the broad but hunched figure of what Geralt assumed was Cerys’ brother, got lost somehow. He stood close to Eist, eyes trailed at the ground. Geralt dismissed him as unthreatening and insignificant, and refocused his attention to Eist and Ciri who were still holding onto each other as though the White Frost was about to sweep over the lands and they could only fend it off by hugging. Something barbed lodged in Geralt’s throat at the sight. He swallowed it down. He was not Ciri’s father.

As if she could sense his distress, Ciri detached herself and walked back to the wolves, beckoning Eist to come along.

“You’ve got to meet them all,” she said to the old king. “You can’t imagine what they’re like.”

“I really can’t,” Eist said. There was a healthy flush on his cheeks and he wouldn’t meet Geralt’s eyes. It was a good thing because if he had, they might have just both lost it over Ciri’s antics. It was like she’d de-aged by half a decade, childish excitement replacing the determined wolf she’d become.

“You have met Geralt. And this next to him is Eskel, my favourite uncle,” Ciri expained and Eist and Eskel shook hands.

“Hey, I heard that!” Lambert called and Cerys whooped, having won the staring match upon Lambert’s indignant outcry.

“I thought you weren’t my uncle,” Ciri retorted and they spent a moment sticking their tongues out at each other as Eskel and Eist briefly chatted about the sea journey to which Geralt hummed along. It was a lot, all these people in a room together, and he had expected them to clash, but somehow… it worked out.

At first, they’d all thought it was a terrible idea. They’d gotten word from the Skellige Isles, a coded message that had contained an invitation for the witchers and Ciri – if the rumours of her survival should be true – to sail to Ard Skellig and stay with the an Craites who’d become part of her family by her grandmother’s marriage to Crach’s uncle.

Vesemir had been completely against it, Eskel had refrained from commenting on the matter and simply gotten ready for another year on the Path, Lambert had kept spewing all the reasons why they shouldn’t at anyone who would listen. Geralt… Geralt had wanted to do good by Ciri and he’d known she needed it. To be with normal people, people that knew her in a way the witchers couldn’t. He’d also painfully understood Lambert’s arguments. It was dangerous for anyone involved. But in the end, Ciri had put on all her charms, had gotten out her arsenal of annoyance, and had convinced them to dare. They rarely did that these days, daring. They’d discussed it over the fire one night, and had decided, collectively decided because unfathomably, the girl wanted them all to come, to indulge her. And here they were.

“So,” Vesemir said as he approached Eist, both thumbs hooked into his belt and one eyebrow raised in his best impression of the hard teacher he used to be. Eist did not cower. “You are the reason this girl has been playing all manners of pranks on me.”

“I should hope so. Someone has to be around for her to fill their shoes with muck and put hair dye in their soap and so on. I would be direly disappointed in Cirilla if she hadn’t found someone to pester while he were separated,” Eist said and extended a hand. Vesemir glanced down at it, pretended to ponder, and Geralt and Eskel turned their heads down to hide their smiles. “Call me Eist.”

“Do you know, Eist, that I have woken up with my feet coated in honey and ants only yesterday?”

“That was Lambert’s idea though,” Ciri protested.

“Well, this Lambert must be an absolutely charming young man then,” Eist chuckled and from Lambert’s glare he did not cower either.

“I’m older than you, grandpa, I’ve had enough of this,” Lambert said. “You know what? That bridge looked funny. I think I’ll just go and jump over the railing it and see how many somersaults I can do on the way down. Aiden taught me a new way to get more spinning power.” With that, the youngest wolf got up, gave Cerys a pat on the head and made a run for it.

“LAMBERT, NO,” both Vesemir and Eskel shouted and gave chase, and Crach and Eist bellowed out laughter. Geralt and Ciri rolled their eyes at each other. It was then that Ciri finally noticed her other cousin, and only because Cerys stood by his side now. That close, the similarities were uncanny, brother and sister no doubt. They had the same long nose, the same hands. Hands that had wielded steel before and often. In a way, then, Ciri might fit in better now than she had before. Before Kaer Morhen, before the war. Before her life had fallen to pieces around her.

“Hjalmar,” Ciri said and approached the pair of siblings. Hjalmar shrugged, then walked away without sparing her a glance.

“He’s having a phase,” Cerys huffed. “We’ll hang out after dinner! Now that you’re apparently a fighter, we ought to spar. We can, father, right?” Both girls looked to Crach who seemed a little forlorn all by himself, eyes darting between where the witchers had disappeared to, where Hjalmar had disappeared to, and where Cerys and Ciri made puppy eyes at him.

“Cerys may fight, of course,” Crach said. “But I cannot decide for Cirilla.”

“Cirilla can damn well decide for herself,” Ciri said, fist clenching as if around the grip of an invisible sword. Back in Kaer Morhen, she would be scolded for backing down on a challenge and so she shook Cerys’ hand now before the girl trailed after her brother.

“I should… make sure they don’t set the place on fire. Eist will show you to your rooms once the rest of your family returns,” Crach said with a wave and followed his children with heavy steps, each a sigh against the carpet.

“Right then,” Ciri said and turned to Geralt and Eist, now the only people left in attendance. “What have you been up to, grandpa?”

“Oh, we’ve been spending our days on the terraces, watching for whales and counting seals. Calanthe has been bored out of her mind, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Geralt froze and so did Ciri. They exchanged a long look and Geralt could smell the tears prickle in Ciri’s eyes, but they didn’t manifest. Geralt gave an almost imperceptible nod and Ciri turned back to Eist, drawing a deep breath.

“She’s alive then.”

“She’s alive.”

“I want to see her,” Ciri demanded and held out her hand for Eist to take. To guide her. This was not a reunion Geralt needed to pry into, and so he inclined his head and gestured for them to go on.

“But Ciri,” Eist said and squeezed her hand. His voice had fallen to a quieter key and Geralt cocked his head to listen for his heartbeat. Not faster, slower if anything, but a certain tension was there nonetheless. There was something wrong with Calanthe. Something significant. “She might not be awake. She… rarely is.”

“What happened to her?”

“I think I should see how many somersaults Lambert managed,” Geralt interjected carefully and made to leave, but Ciri grabbed his hand before he could. Their eyes met again and hers were hard around the edges, softened on the inside. I need you, Geralt, the flicker in them said. And Geralt was not her father, not yet, he thought, and he didn’t know if he ever would be, but he would never deny her a request like this. She needed him, Geralt was there.

Eist glanced at where they held hands and his weary expression was washed away by a wistful smile.

“Knowing Calanthe, she should like to explain it to you in due time. You will see that she was wounded in the storm on Cintra and is still in recovery.”

“She’s the Lioness,” Ciri said simply. “She will roar and rise again.”

That she will, Geralt thought. And you right alongside her.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

-----

The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[rachaelswrites]

Rumors

Ransom Drysdale x daughter!reader

Your cousin Jacob starts a rumor about you and teases you about but you’ve had enough

Word Count: 1,596

A/N: this idea popped up in my head while I was in the shower lol. 

Warnings: language, implied student/teacher affair (no one actually did anything), justified fighting, mentions of Nazi child

You and Jacob tolerated each other. He was only a year older than you and you had some classes at school together, not to mention your mutual friends. Of course there was some teasing, but this time Jacob had crossed a line. You were struggling a little in your math class and stayed behind several times to get some help. Jacob -the little twit- thought it would be funny to joke with his friends about what kind of “help” you were getting. Being the assholes they are, they spread the word around that you were sleeping with a teacher to get ahead. You tried to ignore it the best you could but it got so big that the staff heard about it. Of course it was all fake, just Jacob being a dick. 

Things went downhill very quickly. Your math teacher resigned in fear of ruining his reputation. You tried explaining that nothing happened to your principal but she decided she had to talk to your dad.

That’s where you were now. Waiting for Ransom to get to the school. You were always a good kid for the most part. Only getting into small trouble; nothing that ever involved the principle calling. You were seated in one of the chairs in her office when you heard the main doors open. You turned and saw your dad in his usual brown coat talking to the receptionist. She points in your direction and he nods. You quickly turn back around and look at the floor. Not wanting to make eye contact with your dad. When he enters the office, the principal greets him warmly. 

“Thank you for meeting here on such short notice Mr. Drysdale. I wanted to talk to you about an issue involving Y/n.” 

Ransom pulls his sunglasses off and takes the seat next to you and waits for her to continue. 

“It has come to the attention of many students and staff that a rumor of an affair between a faculty member and your daughter. Things have gotten very out of control. So much so that the teacher in question has resigned.” 

Ransom whips his head down to look at you.Your head was down, your eyes tracking the way your feet swing back and forth, trying to hide the tears running down your cheeks. Hearing it out loud makes you sick. You could kill Jacob if you had the chance.

“Y/n,” Ransom says. 

When you don’t react he says it again.

  “Y/n look at me.” 

You follow his instructions this time. 

He turns his body in the chair towards you,“Did you sleep with that teacher?” he questions.

You shook your head. 

Ransom turns to the principle and throws his hands up. “Well she said she didn’t. Problem solved.”

The principal shook her head,“I’m afraid that it’s not that easy Mr. Drysdale.”

“What do you mean? She said she didn’t do it. Get the teacher back and everyone can go on with their lives,” At this point he sounded tired.

“I’m sorry Sir, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. The reputation of the scho-”

“Your reputation is more important than my daughter’s education?” Ransom interrupted. 

You looked at your dad with wide eyes, knowing that whatever happened next wouldn’t be good.

 “I pay too much damn money for this shit. Y/n get your things we’re leaving.”

 You opened your mouth to protest but he held his hand up in your face. You quickly stood up and grabbed your school coat and bag. Ransom followed you to the door. 

He turned and said, “The un-enrollment papers will be turned in tomorrow.” 

Ransom led you out of the school with his hand on your shoulder, and opened the door of the Beamer for you. You got in and put your things in the back. Ransom got into his drivers seat and mumbled something about that school being a waste. Your hands were in your lap and fiddling with your fingers. 

“You know, you’re too good for that school right? I only sent you there because that’s what everyone wanted,” your dad said, trying to make you feel better.

“I know. Probably just trying to get me to be like them.” 

He laughed at the obvious distaste you have for the family. You were the youngest in the family and were often compared to everyone else and ridiculed. Ransom wasn’t stupid. He knew it was happening so he always made excuses to not go to family events for your sake. He always made you his top priority and would do anything to protect you. 

Several weeks later you went back to a new school. This was a public school and you enjoyed it so much more. All the kids were nicer and the classes were easier. And best of all Jacob wasn’t there and you didn’t have to see him. Unless you had a family thing; which thankfully wasn’t too often. Most of the family knew you left the school but not the why. Ransom let you decide if you wanted to go to Harlan’s with him while he was working with him but you declined. He understood. When the family asked why you left, Ransom simply shrugged and told them to ask you yourself. But this time you couldn’t get out of it. It was the annual Christmas get-together. You had to go. No question.

Ransom was waiting for you at the front door. He knew that you were nervous and didn’t plan on spending a lot of time there. Just a quick hello and maybe a drink or two. You made your ways down the staircase and joined your dad at the door. 

He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head, “Say the words and we’ll leave okay?” 

You nodded, too nervous to say anything.

Once at the party, you relaxed a little. Nobody really brought up the school thing. You were very grateful. Ransom stuck by your side the whole time, or you stuck to him. Either way there was no way he was letting you out of his sight;especially with Jacob around. You were upset with him and it was very noticeable. You had a bit of a temper sometimes and Ransom tried to hide it from the family because he was worried he would be blamed. Nobody really believed he was a great dad. No matter how many times you told your grandparents. 

About an hour or two in you had no problems so your dad left you alone for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. You stood off to the side of the party minding your own business. You haven't seen Jacob in a while, however that relief was short lived when you saw him march down the stairs. You tried to go into a different room but he already saw you. 

“Hey Y/n,” he sneered, “How's public school going?” 

The conversation in the room died down a little. Your family was full of eavesdroppers, but at least they tried to be subtle. 

“It’s good,” you responded. You were just trying to get him off you until your dad showed back up,“I met some new friends. They're really nice. A lot nicer than you.”

“Are they now? How are the teachers though? That’s the important question.” he shot back. The anger was bubbling inside of you. You didn’t want to talk about this, you had already put it behind you. But you had to stay calm on the outside.

“They’re good too. Much better than the others.”

“I bet they are. I’m sure you’ve alrea-” 

Before he could finish his sentence, your anger bubbled over and you threw yourself at him and punched him in the nose. He grabbed your shoulders and pinned you to the floor. You managed to wrestle yourself on top of him but he pulled a fistful of your hair. You slapped him across the face and he let go but used his other hand to sock you in the eye; for sure leaving a bruise. Before you could land another hit, you were pulled off by the back of your sweater. Your dad stood in front of you, blocking you from Jacob. He looked pissed.

“In the car. Now,” he said pointing towards the front door. 

You huffed and turned on your heel, walking to the door and slamming it shut. Ransom was giving you time to cool off before he talked to you. He sighed and turned towards his younger cousin; now holding his nose and blubbering to his mom. Walt looked at him and shoved a finger in his face.

“That kid is out of control! She needs to apologize to Jacob right now! She broke his nose!” 

Ransom looked to see the others' reactions. They seemed more concerned for the Nazi boy than you. Even Linda and Richard. Ransom rolled his eyes and left the house in a similar manner to you. 

Ransom walked around the front of the car and sat next to you in the driver's seat. He put his seat belt on and turned to you, “Okay Y/n. What the hell was that?” 

You looked up to him, expecting to see anger. But you saw concern written across his face. You shrugged your shoulders.

“I dunno. I guess the Nazi just needed his ass beat.” 

Ransom sighed and turned forward in his seat. He paused for a moment before he burst out laughing. He started the car and drove off. Still laughing. 

Taglist 

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes

[olivia200312]

Teaser!~ Bay! Optimus x Human! Reader

Requested by the lovely @AngelRosePhoenix

Plot: I was thinking of Bayverse AOE that is Cade's 20 yr old cousin which is the same age as Shane. So while they're in the Old Church hiding, Tessa was checking on her phone on YouTube when suddenly she saw Y/N modeling on Victoria's Secret. It was all about her in Victoria's Secret every outfit and catwalk. The music is playing' Roses Imanbek by Saint Jhn". Y/N tries to stop Tessa when the bots were curious too. When she showed it, Bee used a bigger screen and everyone was whistling and making kinky talk to her. She is so flustered while Prime has a horny thing on his mind. So the Prime teased her in a kinky way which others were shocked. Then Cade said, "Yeah, I'd be happy for u that she'll be your girlfriend. She really needs it." Then Tessa complained about Y/N's allowed and not her. But Cade told his daughter that she isn't at Y/N's age. Then Y/N complained and yelled when she heard Optimus say, "Well, I don't mind at all being with her." And he smirked which made her blush furiously and then there goes to the lemon >:D.

This is a lemon! I literally sometimes don't understand some requests that I get that I have to fix it every time so that the readers can understand what's going on. I recommend you all to use Grammarly. It's free and it helps you when you're typing on your computer. I've been using it for months now and it helps a lot when I'm writing chapters or one-shots here. This takes place in the church of Tf4 AOE!

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

Note: the art goes to the owner!

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

Oh man, the day is just crazy! Apparently, Cade brought an old truck to his place together with Lucas. Cade Yeager is a single father of Tessa Yeager. His wife sadly passed away when Tessa was young and since then Cade took care of his daughter. He became overprotective and even made a rule to not bring any boys to the house! He meant it to his daughter of course. There was a woman named Y/N L/N. She's 20 years old. She's a mechanic and helps her cousin, Cade, a lot. Yes, Y/N is 3 years older than Tessa. She loves the girl a lot but she also knows her secret: Tessa has a boyfriend named Shane. He's 20 years old as well. Now, Cade didn't know it at first until... random shit happened. The truck is a Transformer named Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots. He's being hunted by KSI and that's why he's hiding. He got separated from his team and Ratchet got sadly killed... Sam Witwicky, along with his girlfriend, mysteriously disappeared.

The old truck transformed inside Cade's barn and man, he's mad! He obviously had his reasons to be mad. Y/N and Cade manage to calm him down. While they both started to fix him, the Prime fell his optics on the 20-year-old mechanic girl. She's just so beautiful...

Anyway, the story continued and Lucas got killed sadly. Everyone was sad that they lost a friend. The adventure continued and yadda, yadda, yadda. Let's get to the point of view now. The church. (I couldn't find a video where the church part scene played).

Everyone is now at the church, hiding. It was safe at least! Optimus and Cade are chatting while others are doing their stuff. Tessa is on her phone, checking random stuff out. It made Y/N very nervous. She has a secret and she didn't want others to find out. She made a video once where she dressed in every Victoria's Secret outfit. She even catwalked in her video for Primus's sake! She thought that no one would ever find out... She's wrong.

Tessa scrolled through her phone until she came across a video on YouTube made by Y/N. She watched it quietly until she smirked. "Oh, Y/N!~"

Y/N looks at Tessa and she got nervous when she saw the look on Tessa's face. "W-What is it?"

"You never told me how well can you catwalk while being in Victoria's Secret outfits."~

That caught Cade's attention as he stopped talking to Optimus and looks shocked at Y/N. "Y/N, you did what?!"

"I-It's not what it looks like!" She waved her hands in defense.

Tessa then showed it to Bumblebee or just Bee, the youngest one of the group and a scout. He showed it to the big screen, causing Y/N to yell "No!" and hide her face in her hands. She just wanted to disappear...

Other bots whistled while Cade looks shocked. Tessa still smirked. Shane then entered the church. "Hey, what's going- Oh God..." He looks shocked. Optimus Prime, on the other hand, has dirty minds in his processor. It's just that... that Victoria's Secret's outfits and catwalks... He just wants to take her now.

Cade seems to notice it. He got told by Optimus that he has a crush on her. He smirked in secret.

Optimus then decided to shock others and make Y/N more flustered. He watched how Y/N slowly showed her face and then the Prime, literally... teased her in a kinky way! No kidding! He did it! Y/N looks more flustered while others looked shocked.

Cade then looks up at the leader. "You know, I'd be happy for u that she'll be your girlfriend. She really needs it."

Tessa then complained. "Really, daddy? Why is she allowed to have a boyfriend and not me?" She looks also annoyed.

"You're not just at her age, sweetie," Cade answered calmly.

"Cade!" Y/N shouted embarrassed.

What Optimus suddenly said made Y/N faint. "Well, I don't mind at all being with her." She then made eye contact with him and saw him smirking. She then fainted.

At night~

The night arrived and everyone went to sleep. Well, almost everyone. The Autobots made sure to watch over and that the humans are comfortable to sleep. Y/N stayed awake and just couldn't sleep. She's now watching the night sky. There's an abandoned train close by and that's where humans slept. More surprisingly, it had comfortable chairs.

"You need to get some recharge, Y/N," said a familiar deep voice.

Y/N gasps and turned around to see Optimus but around her height. Looks like he made himself small. He then stood right behind her, pressing his tank and chassis area against her back. Y/N shivered from the contact. Let's just say that she's was getting turned on. It's just that it was getting sexual. Optimus then placed his servos on her hips and kissing her neck. "Do you really love me, sweetspark?"

"Y-Yes." She then gasped because of the air when her extremely loose blouse was pulled down, exposing her with Victoria Secret's sexy lace bra and panties. She heard Optimus growl. "You're so sexy that I want to take you."

Then Y/N's eyes were full of lust. She felt so wet that her pussy was throbbing, begging to be taken. She panted as heat builds up, making the Prime smirk. He then turned her around and his optics were full of lust when he saw her front body. He fo course finds her beautiful. He then smashed his dermas against t her soft lips. His servos traveled down right on her ass, squeezing it. Y/N moaned as she jumps and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"My spike wants to be inside of you ever since I discovered your dirty secret," Optimus growled.

"Take me.~"

He walks inside the train, where no one else was there. At least, they'll be 'busy' this night ;). He found a comfortable seat and laid Y/N down, while still kissing her. His glossa was fighting against her tongue while servos were rubbing her entire body, squeezing her breasts and her ass. Y/N moaned loudly and Optimus pulled away, causing them to pant.

"I'm taking you tonight."

Then Y/N decided to TAKE HIM instead of him her. She pinned him down, causing the Prime to look surprised when Y/N made him sit up with her straddling on his lap. He then purred and growled lowly, causing Y/N to smirk and grind on his lap. He placed his servos on her ass and pulled her panties down until they're at the ankles so they're not fully off. He used his digit to rub her clit and pump her, causing the female human to let out moans and arch her back. Optimus smashed his dermas against her lips as his free servo traveled up to her breasts. He simply pulled it up a bit until the breasts are out and squeezed them.

"O-Optimus.~"

Optimus purred as he continued for like thirty seconds before stopping, causing to growl in annoyance but then she smirked as she saw his big hard in the air. She lifted herself up and 'accidentally' slammed right into his spike, causing both the bot and human to moan loudly. Y/N hurtled herself a tiny bit but pleasure quickly took over and started to very sexually grinding, riding and dancing at the same time on Optimus' lap. The Prime watched in awe and grunted. He couldn't help but place his servos o her hips, feeling her moving.

"S-Sweetspark.~"

"You like that, Bossbot?" She's teasing him while still smirking and moving.

Optimus growled but doesn't care right now. His optics were watching Y/N's EVERY move. He felt like in heaven. He just loves the sexy human femme that was sitting on him, doing sexual moves while having sex on his lap.

"A-Ahh! Optimus, y-you're so big, hard, and handsome," Y/N panted while having a lovely and sexy expression on her face.

Optimus felt his spark beating fast while showing exactly the same expression. "You t-take my spike so well, sweetspark. I'd like to have a family with y-you in the future." He also grunted a few times.

Y/N giggles and kisses him with so passion that she and Optimus were both lost in so much love that Y/N didn't notice that Optimus started to thrust up roughly, slamming into her many times like dominant Autobot.

"A-Ah! Oh my G-God!" She panted and moaned while Optimus lowly purred and smirked. "I-I'm cumming!"

"Then cume for me, sweetspark. I'll fill you up so well.~" He whispered lowly into her ear, causing Y/N to squeak and blush bright red.

Optimus then grunted when he slammed one last time and released his transfluid. Y/N screamed so quietly that Optimus found it cute like from Japanese anime. Y/N panted and sighed in bliss. She was then gently lifted up so that Optimus' spike would come out. It was limp. Optimus then laid down with Y/N on top of him. He covered his mate up with a blanket and kissed her forehead. Both of them fell asleep.

[thevividgreenmoss]

My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

[slygirl666]

Call me your love

The beginning

Fred Weasley x Lestrange!reader 

historical au: 1800′s 

warnings: none for this chapter, will eventually be an 18+ story. probably not historically accurate, I kinda don't care 

will most likely be on Wattpad too (might change the name please help me with it)

An eight year old Y/N Lestrange walked with her mother to their carriage. It was a rare time she was allowed out of the manor. They had stopped in a dress shop because Lady Lestrange needed to get Y/N a dress that was appropriate for a funeral.

The Funeral of the Mr. and Mrs. Potter, a well respected wealthy family. Though Y/N didn’t know them she did know that they were dear to cousin Sirius’ heart. So dear that their nine year old boy was left in his care.

Sirius had invited his own family seeing how the potters didn’t have any living.

Y/N sat as still as possible while an older lady took measurements of her and her mother looked at materials.

When Y/N had gotten back into her proper clothes she sat patiently waiting for her mother to finish. She played with the pendant that fell over her dress.

When her mother was finished she walked out to the busy streets of london she felt a hand on her wrist as she was pulled away from her mother.

She was pulled behind a shop where she was met with the dirty face of a young boy slightly older than her whose smile spelled trouble.

“Do you have money, miss?” the boy whispered almost ashamed. His eyes not meeting hers. She took a moment to take in his appearance. His trousers had holes in them, he was barefoot on the dirt street, his bright orange hair had dusty areas in it.

“No I don't,” Y/N almost felt bad for him. She looked for something to give him before reaching for her necklace. “Why do you need the money, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My family has none, miss, see I have six siblings,” his hazel eyes finally met your tears in them with a hint of shame. “We might starve if my brothers and I don’t find away to get money for them.”

So Y/N Lestrange made the decision to unclasp the necklace and put it in his hand, “sell it, it can get you a few galleons.”

“I’ll never forget this, miss I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.

Y/N finally hears the distant yell of her mother, “i have to go.”

She walked off and the little redhead boy knew he would never see her again.

***ten years later***

An eighteen year old Y/N sat in a carriage with her cousin Sirius Black and the boy Harry Potter as the view of the Lestrange manor became smaller with each turn of the wheel.  

Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange had died of an illness that went undetected until it was too late.

Y/N sat silently in the seat of the carriage, her parents weren’t the most loving. She was mostly raised by a nanny, rather than being educated she was encouraged to do more ladylike activities like needle point and music. But they were her parents, her  blood.

Her aunt Andromeda had married poor and was disowned so she could not live with her, her aunt Narcissa’s husband was much too busy a man for another child to be around.

Her cousin Sirius said he had more than enough room for her to stay, with a cousin she didn’t know hours away from her childhood.

Sirius had fallen asleep an hour into the ride, Harry Potter finally spoke. “Miss Lestrange, I know it isn’t much but I do understand. Living with Sirius is an interesting time yes but I do hope we can be friends.”

“That would be nice and given the circumstances of our situation why don’t you call me Y/N” she tried her best to smile.

“Only if you agree to calling me Harry.” he smiled.

The two sat for the other hour of the trip with polite conversation between the two of them.

When the carriage came to a halt the redhead man came down to open the doors, Sirius laughed. “We aren’t normally so formal but we are trying to make a good impression here.”

Sirius waved his hand in the direction of the tall stocky man with his red hair tied lowly behind him. “This is Charlie Weasley, he is our driver, when he is not doing that he can be found in the farm.”

“Goodday, miss Lestrange it is exciting to meet you,” he helped her out by hand.

“That is very kind of you to say.” she smiled as she walked off with her cousin.

Sirius opened the door to Grimwald manner and yelled out, “Ginniveria!”

A thin girl in a simple dress that went to her calf walked in. she looked to be around your age which excited you. “yes Sirius, and you know it's Ginny.”

Y/N was startled at the lack of formality, but eased as Sirius laughed and apologized. “This is Ginny Weasley, she does a lot of the house keeping, she will be showing you around.”

Sirius dismissed himself as Harry said he must be off to study, nodding shyly to Ginny.

“Well miss Lestrange, I can show you around, your room is prepared, but the boys will be bringing your stuff up so we can see the grounds.”

Y/N followed the excited girl as she spewed facts about what was in the house and her family. She learned that all the weasleys but two worked in the house, her mother was the cook, her father repaired around the house with the youngest of her  brothers, two of them worked the stables and Charlie took care of the farm animals.

To Y/N it seemed like a lot of people doing so many things.

When they reached the stables Ginny called out for her brothers, “Fredrick, George!”

That's when all of a sudden a young man with bright red hair appeared behind them spooking his sister and Y/N in the process. Ginny hit him with her arm, “fredric you absolute pr-”

“No no sister,” he tisked at her, “we have to make a good first impression don't we?”

He gave her a wink she scoffed, “cause you're doing so well aren't you?”

“Feisty, ain't she?” she took her hand bringing it to his lips eyes locking with hers. “Frederick weasley Miss Lestrange, Happy to meet you.”

“Well Frederick. I do enjoy horses and think you will be seeing me quite a bit.”

“I'll look forward to it,” something in his hazel eyes was awfully familiar though she couldn’t quitte place why.  Ginny grabbed her wrist pulling her back to the house.

Ginny led Y/N to her room, multiple trunks containing her entire life were there. “Could you help me unpack?”

“Yes miss,” she smiled, opening one of them expertly making her way around the room. “You know other than my mother who hardly counts, I’m never around other girls. I do hope we can be friends.”

The thought of making friends with a girl who worked for her would have scandalized Y/N’s mother. But she had never had any friends her own age other than her cousin, “I think I’d like that, call me Y/N please.”

Ginny smiled and continued helping her unpack, Y/N looked around the room, some one had put flowers on the dresser that she recognized from the field outside. Y/N smiled knowing Ginny placed them there.

“I should go help Mum set up for supper, I’ll come get you beforehand.” Ginny walked out closing the door, it was funny she had only just arrived today and they treated her so warmly.

Y/N moved to the chest that she knew carried her more casual dresses moving to take off her heavily layered dress.

That in itself took a good amount of time, after redressing she moved to the vanity beginning to take out the intricate pins and overly done curls, running a brush through them. Struggling to put it up.

With a knock at the door Ginny entered the room. “Do you want some help?”

Y/N nodded letting Ginny take the brush before putting delicate braids on either side of her hair tying it back with a grey ribbon.

They walked together to the dining room. Y/N was surprised to see the large family of redheads also sitting at the large dining table. She knew her parents would hate it, she smiled to herself. Her cousin was so kind to the people who work for them she almost wondered why.

But she sat happily joining them for supper.

* * *

Waking up in a room that wasn’t her own was a strange feeling, Ginny opened the room's curtains before getting a simple shirt and long skirt for her to wear.

“You’ll be joining Harry in his studies today,” she made the bed as Y/N got out of it. “Your afternoon is free.”

“But i-”

“Hurry now, breakfast will be finished in a minute.” Ginny helped her get into her skirts, getting as Y/N buttoned up her shirt to the neck. Putting her hair back into a subtle half up style.

The two girls went down the stairs chatting. Like the night before the Weasley family was at the breakfast table.

Harry and the youngest Weasley boy were having a conversation, the twins, Frederick and George, recalled laughing at the expense of Charlie Who seemed annoyed. While Molly, Sirius and Aurther had a quiet conversation. Ginny sat next to one of the twins leaving an open space on the edge of the table. Y/N sat eating her breakfast quietly just observing the odd way everyone interacted.

“Miss Lestrange, how did you settle in on your first night?” one of the twins turned his attention to her. Taking a sip of her tea noticing the sudden silence.

“My first night was well,” she smiled at him sweatley. “You all have been very inviting, I’m grateful for that.”

“And your room?” Sirius smiled at her.

“It’s lovely, Ginny has lovely taste.” she laughed, winking at the redhead girl.

There was a knock at the door. Ginny excused herself to answer the door.  Behind ginny a tall man with dusty hair and a scared face walked in.

The adults greeted him with a warm ‘remus’ but the weasley kids and Harry called out ‘mr.Lupin.’

He smiled at everyone greeting them by name, “you must be miss Lestrange, i'm the tutor you will be working with.”

You hesitated before thinking better of telling everyone one about your education status.

When the Weasleys began to excuse themselves you spoke up, “cousin, may I have a word?”

“Of course Y/N what seems to be the problem,” sirius looked concerned as he set his tea down.

“Well, you see my mother was a bit old fashioned when it came to where a woman should stand in society,” you started as Sirius nodded. “They did not let my nanny educate me past basic reading, enough to write a simple letter even. I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to keep up with Harry.”

“Yes, I can see where that is a genuine concern,” he smiled warmly. “If you would like I could look to find you a different tutor willing to work at your speed. I would use Remus but Harry's studies take a lot of his time and he has other students.”

“That would be wonderful, cousin sirius,” you smiled sweetly to him.

“Y/N, given the fact we are family you could call me just Sirius.” you felt a wave of relief wash through you.

That's when Ginny ran back into the dining room, “Mum needs me to pick up more fruits from the store. May Charlie and I go?”

“Of course Ginny, Y/N why don’t you go see the town with Ginny,” you looked taken aback. To go into town unsupervised. “Charlie will be with the two of you.”

“We can go to mrs.Kranes,” Ginny turned her attention to Sirius. “Y/N doesn't really have any simple dresses.”

“That's great Ginny,” You watched as Sirius pulled out a key and unlocked a box. He pulled out a coin pouch handing it to you. “Enough for two dresses for you, and one for Ginny if she would like something.”

Ginny grabbed your hand pulling you outside to the farm, “Charles!”

The closer we got to the more we could hear the Squeal and heavy breathing of a pig, “what’s wrong Gin?”

“We have to go get things for mum from the town.” her voice flattered seeing charlie hold a small piglet. “Ask Fred, He shouldn’t be too busy and he knows how the carriage works.”

“All right charlie, tell us when the litter is born.” Ginny turned to the door leading you to the stables.

“Freddie!” you took note that Ginny really liked yelling when she called for her brothers. “Charlie said you were the driver while May was having her baby’s.”

Both twins walked out of stalls across from each other. “Okay, where are we going?”

“Nice try George,” Ginny smiled to the one on the right. “Fred get ready we'll be ready in an hour.”

Ginny once again pulled you back to the manor.

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia --  ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace. 

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.” 

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

[nabrizoya]

A month and half ago, I remember being unable to sleep, wondering about how to write for prompts if I did start accepting them. This was an idea I had come up then, something heartwarming and satisfying. Also, @princesslucretia remember I told you about how I’d already written something akin to your ideas? 

Ballroom Introductions. 

It was in the ballroom perhaps, Lucie thought now, lost in the progress that every month endured, of all the days that had slowly gone by in the year. Could she particularly pinpoint?

She sat with little Alexander, keeping him company at the farthest corner of the room. Lucie had danced quite a bit with Matthew and a few other gentlemen who had asked; except one, though she chided herself for even thinking about it. The evening was satisfactory—all happy faces everywhere, though if she looked deeper, she would be able make out the lines of loss and mourning under them. A lifetime too was short to grieve for all those everybody had lost in the Shadow War. 

Lucie engaged Alex in a gripping story, encapsulating wonder, terror and excitement in an impulsive story she had conjured out of thin air. Alex was amused, especially at the involvement of the soft circus ball, his new and most treasured toy. She personified the ball’s abilities, describing its magical properties and how it went on to become a hero when a pirate ship had begun to attack its island of toys. Her heart swelled with joy when he laughed at the bits she narrated with mirth. 

At one point, Alex just stared at her in wonder and confusion until she realised he had been staring at a point behind her. Perplexed, she turned to face her intruder, her heart stopping for a moment at the piercing green gaze. She regained her composure and smiled. “Hello, Jesse.”

She looked back at Alexander who was now eyeing Jesse skeptically. She waved in his face, just as Jesse bent down on his knee next to her, facing his cousin. Alex’s gaze trailed from him to her, his hands outstretched towards her. She pulled him into her lap and introduced him to Jesse. 

“Jesse?”

She ruffled his soft hair, hair akin to his cousin’s. “Yes, Alexander. Will you introduce yourself to your cousin?”

Alex remained silent. She watched him frown, still gaping at Jesse. Jesse met her eyes, all fear and apprehension. She noticed how his hair was longer now, completely covering his ears unlike before. His face wasn’t as pale but there were still shadows under his eyes, combed with his want to be introduced to his youngest cousin yet unsure of how. 

“Cousin?” Alex said finally. She gave Jesse a reassuring smile and bent to her side to face Alexander. 

“Correct. Thomas? Thomas is your cousin. Eugenia? Barbara-” her throat ached, “just how they are your cousins, Jesse too is one, Alex.”

“Tom,” he said sullenly, his face sour. She recalled Thomas taking his licorice away stating it had been his fifth for the day. Lucie nodded. 

“Tom, Euvy and Babbara,” he narrated. Lucie hugged him tighter. Looking at Jesse, she added, “Jesse.”

Jesse glanced at her, momentarily fazed. He smiled then, confidence in his posture and he gestured his gloved hand forth. “Jesse Blackthorn, sir,” he said, and took off his beret, bowing in a flourish. “Pleased to meet you.”

Lucie found herself smiling at that. Alexander gaped at him and looked at her, confused. “Go on, Alex. He’s very glad to have met you finally!”

“Not Pirate?”

She laughed. “No, you silly. Definitely not. Go on, now. It is impolite to keep a gentleman waiting.”

It was with some hesitation that Alex put his hand forth. “Alexandwer,” he said solemnly. Jesse took it confidently and shook his cousin’s small yet firm hand, contained ecstasy breaking out on his face. Alex hopped off Lucie’s lap, disconcerting Lucie momentarily from thinking how well Jesse had managed his introductions. People from the Enclave and around the world had flocked the London Institute to celebrate the victory in the Shadow War. They had all looked at him warily yet he was so confident and firm when he spoke, the air of surety in his walk and posture. He looked dapper in his new clothes, a wonderful frock coat adorning over his white shirt and a regal earthen waistcoat. It was subtle and simple, yet Jesse looked breathtaking. 

“Alex-” but Alexander was standing well on his feet, his posture mirroring his cousin’s. He titled his chin higher, much to both of their amusement. In that moment she could see how much the two of them resembled one another. They had the same stance as that of Gabriel, though the eyes gave their secrets away. “Alexandwer Lightwood,” he announced and mimicked Jesse’s bow. Lucie gave a startled laugh at that but Jesse only smiled wider. She felt her heart flutter at his radiant smile that seemed to light up an already bright room. Alex turned to face her, his cheeks now bright red and rushed into the crowd. 

Alarmed, Jesse got up to follow him but Lucie stopped him, standing up too. “He’s shy,” she said. “New introductions do tire him but you shouldn’t be worried.” At his look of confusion, she elaborated. “You seem to have made a fascinating first impression on him, Mr. Blackthorn,” she said, blushing at the awkwardness of addressing him differently. 

“I should hope so,” he gazed after Alexander, who was now tugging at the tail of his father’s coat. Gabriel picked him up with the ease of a father, his gaze confused until he retracted his son’s tracks and saw Jesse and Lucie. He smiled at them and turned away. 

“You have. I promise.”

They gazed collectively at the faces in the ballroom. The night was coming to a close yet nobody made any sign of farewell. When she finally looked at Jesse, she found him already looking at her. “I, uh, I’ve been looking for you.”

Lucie felt her stomach drop. “What for? I’ve been here this whole time.”

Jesse continued to stare at her, his lips pursed. He finally said, this time looking away, his cheeks red. “I wondered if you could do me the honour of this dance, Miss Herondale.” He met her gaze, sharp yet uncertain. Lucie could see the tension in his shoulders, the way the vein throbbed against his throat in apprehension. 

She blushed this time, though she didn’t look away. “You’re nervous,” she pointed, reverting to their constant innocuous bickering ways. Jesse’s shoulders slumped in relief at that, a smile overpowering his face. 

“Of course I am!” He gestured around the room, at the faces covering up the traces of pain, sheathed under the dimness of the light. “It is exhausting, akin to your observation about Alexander earlier, to make introductions.”

“Not to forget that you are quite literally a revived corpse.”

“My sources tell me you are not going to stop throwing that in my face until I die again,” he commented dryly. “Not that I mind, but I think repetitive gets bland.” 

Lucie laughed at that. “Well, I can assure you that you shall not be hearing the end of it, certainly. Though I believe there are more pressing matters to attend at the moment.”

“Such as?”

She put her hand forth, the way gentlemen did when they asked their partners or any agreeable stranger for a dance. “May I have this dance, Jesse Blackthorn? Former dead-ee, Current living person?”

Jesse’s laughter, lively and rich, was a sound unlike any melody in the room. She puffed out her cheeks in an attempt to conceal her smile until Jesse put his hand in hers. “I believe in no form of formality, you see,” she added as they made their way over to the dance floor. Lucie noticed how their hands shifted- it would seem as though Jesse had been the one to outstretch his hand to ask her out, and Lucie pondered briefly about that. It felt intimate in every slight bit.

“Though perhaps it is better you say that you assume that no bureaucratic formality remains between us, given that society works on norms,” he said, turning her around. “And I know you would disagree with me here.” 

“Perhaps I’ll let you have the agency this time of being right; I do think so.”

Jesse almost did a double take. “You do?” 

“Oh yes, I’m surprised too,” she laughed at Jesse’s wariness. “Who knows, you could possibly be my voice of reason sometimes.”

“I’m humbled, Miss Herondale. The utmost honour,” he bowed with a smile. 

“Let me do you another honour, if that be the case,” she grinned, mirroring his. “If we still- no, if you still put up with the formalities.”

Lucie was right, Jesse thought; the air of formality between them as though they were strangers was not a particularly welcoming idea. They knew each other a little too well, he assumed. One could not pin it on an exact moment, but it felt like a lot to reverse or start from scratch. It was lost in the progress that every month endured, of all the days that had slowly gone by in the year of spending time with each other. He didn’t mind, though quickly added, knowing what she had meant. “Don’t step on my toes,” he warned.

"And here I thought I could be discreet,” she grumbled good-naturedly, leaving them to each other’s silent laughter. The world faded to the shadows around them. For once, Lucie didn’t mind the darkness, if it brought light with it. And from enough stories she’s read, she knew it did.